> The Catch
>  by kudzuhaiku
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	In the entirety of his whole life, Rye Mash had never felt more fear than he did in the current moment. There had been many moments of fear. He had been taken from his home on the Shetland Isles as a very small colt during one of the many sweeps and taken to the mainland. He had endured the mainland orphanarium.

He and his master had been captured by sky pirates, led by none other than the infamous Captain Spyglass. Now, he was stuffed into a barrel and left in total darkness. He had heard some of the commotion all around him. He had his magic, but he was far too afraid to use it after the warning that he would be killed if he did. So he obediently remained stuffed inside the barrel trembling with fear and not knowing what to do. 

He cried out in fear as the barrel was turned on its side and rolled. As he tumbled around inside he collected every bit of will that he had and tried not to piss himself in fear. The barrel seemed to roll forever. It thudded as it bounced over wooden planks. 

Finally, the barrel stopped and the cover was pried off. Rye Mash was forcibly pulled out of the barrel and was left sprawled out on the deck, his eyes stinging from the sudden light. He was dizzy, disoriented, and could not see. 

“Was it truly necessary to roll the poor colt in the barrel?” a voice said. 

“Sorry boss,” a voice replied. “You said bring the barrel over.” 

A figure stood over Rye Mash and he looked up. He had trouble focusing his eyes and seeing who he was looking at. The figure’s breath smelled like pickle brine and cheap booze, a smell that reminded Rye Mash of home. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” Rye Mash begged. 

“I understand that you are property,” the voice said. 

“I am not property!” Rye Mash protested. “I am an indentured servant. There is a difference. I’ll be free one day once I pay off my debts,” he said angrily. Rye Mash’s vision settled a bit and he saw that he was speaking to a pegasus. “You are Captain Spyglass,” he accused. 

“None other,” the pegasus replied. “And do tell. How did you become an indentured servant to this annoying fellow that we have been giving a good thrashing to?” 

“I am from the Shetland Isles. I was taken in the sweeps. I was placed in an orphanarium in Fillydelphia. An agent of House Avarice came looking for useful unicorns. I was selected and given a great honour. I was sent to school to learn how to read and write. I was taught social graces and etiquette. I was taught magic as well. Now I am paying off the debt for my education and as soon as my education is paid off, I will be a free pony,” Rye Mash explained. 

“Ah, I see,” Captain Spyglass responded. “So, do you know how much you owe? How much are they paying you? What service do you provide for your master?”

“I am his servant. For a time I served as his whipping colt when I was younger. I have never asked how much I am earning. Doing so would be quite rude and a breach of social etiquette. I am to place faith in the kindness of my benefactor and trust that such a good and noble pony is doing the right thing,” Rye Mash answered. 

“Then you are a fool. How would you like to be a free fool?” Captain Spyglass inquired. 

“Free?” Rye Mash asked in a trembling voice. “But my debts… it would reflect poorly on me if I did not pay my debts. How could I maintain any credibility if I didn’t pay my debts?” Rye struggled up to his hooves and wobbled unsteadily. 

The pegasus sighed as several crew members chuckled raucously. “Look here. I free slaves. That is what I do. And you are a slave. You will never earn enough to be a free pony. You are bound. You might not see your chains, but you have them,” Captain Spyglass replied. “Would somepony be so kind and encourage our guest Lace Collar to tell the truth to this poor deluded colt?” the pegasus asked. 

Rye Mash turned to look at Lace Collar as was horrified by what he saw. The stallion was a bloodied and battered heap on the deck. He wanted to go and comfort his fallen master, but he was too scared to move. Rye Mash wondered if this could end up being his fate as well. As he watched, a big scruffy looking earth pony kicked Lace Collar in the side of his head. 

The battered unicorn tried to crawl away from his attacker but was kicked again. Rye Mash felt his guts churning from fear. A pegasus drove his hoof into Lace Collar’s side and there was the crack of bone as several ribs gave way. 

“Enough,” Lace Collar gasped. “It’s true,” he wheezed. Blood splattered from his lips as he spoke. “You were never going to be a free pony,” Lace Collar admitted. 

“And there we go. Finally, some honesty from the professional liars of House Avarice,” Captain Spyglass said. “And so I will ask you again. Would you like to be a free pony?” the pegasus asked. “I am in need of a well educated pony such as yourself as my cabin colt. I assume you can work numbers? Read and write?” 

“I can do all of those things and more,” Rye Mash replied. “Forgive me for asking, but how do I know that I will not be your slave?”

“Clever colt,” Captain Spyglass said with a chuckle. “I pay my crew. In hard coin. You will get a bunk and you will be fed. And you will not be charged for said bunk and food,” the pegasus explained. 

“What is the catch?” Rye Mash asked. 

“The catch?” Captain Spyglass said in return. 

“Why free me? Take me on? Why me and not somepony else more suited for… your criminal endeavours?” Rye Mash asked. 

“Oh ho ho ho,” the pegasus laughed in reply. “I am not a criminal. Nor am I a pirate. I am a just and virtuous pony. Just as you were not a slave,” he added. 

Rye Mash scowled and flogged his brain, trying to collect his wits. 

“There is nopony on this ship that is a pirate,” a voice said.

“And you’d get a good thumping if you said otherwise,” another voice added. 

“But I have heard of you. I know who you are. Everypony knows who you are. You are the the infamous Captain Spyglass. The terror of the skies. The infamous sky pirate,” Rye Mash said. 

“And who says this?” Captain Spyglass asked. 

“The newspapers. The Canterlot nobles. Everypony who is anypony,” Rye Mash exclaimed. 

“Well of course they would say that,” Spyglass replied. 

“I don’t understand,” Rye said in a confused and trembling voice. He cast a worried glance at Lace Collar who was bleeding all over the deck. “You commit crimes… how can you not be criminals?” 

“I free slaves,” Spyglass corrected. “I seize vessels full of the most valuable treasure of all. Most of these vessels are owned by House Avarice of course and I understand they are a bit miffed that I am interfering with their flesh trade. I roam the skies and I prey upon their airships and their sea going vessels. I find the ones carrying say, a cargo hold full of zebras that are being sent to Minos to be sold in the minotaur slave markets. Or worse, to be sold to the griffons as either slaves or food. This despicable wretch on the deck was being sent to broker a deal with a foreign agent. Anyway, I seize their vessels and I free those they have taken. I loot the ships of course. Most of the loot goes to the slaves to allow them to get a fresh start in life. We keep a little for ourselves. We need to eat and keep well supplied,” the pegasus explained. 

Rye Mash tried to come up with something to say but failed. He looked at Lace Collar and felt a confusing jumble of emotions as he stared at his master. 

“What is a whipping colt?” a crewmember asked. 

Spyglass sighed. “Among the nobles, they don’t whip their own foals. They get a whipping colt. And when the wee little lord is a bad little foal, they whip the whipping colt and make the bad little lord watch. Isn’t that right Rye Mash?” Spyglass said. 

Rye nodded, still unable to say anything. 

“If you do not wish to join us, we will drop you off in a port city friendly to our cause. We will give you some of your former master’s possessions so you will be able to make your way in the world. Either way, you are a free pony from here on out. But if I may be honest, I would like to take you on as a crew member,” Spyglass stated.

“What is to be done with him?” Rye asked, finally finding his voice. His words were squeaky and scratchy and he felt humiliated as his voice cracked, surrounded as he was by such a gruff crowd. 

“He is a fop and a dandy. And he peddles flesh. I could deal with any two out of those three things, but alas, he is guilty of all three. I cannot stand ponies that wear clothing. It is most unnatural,” Spyglass replied. “We were never meant to wear clothing like the minotaurs.” 

“To Tartarus with the lot of you… even you Rye,” Lace Collar spat. 

“And he is rude. Ugh, somepony throw him overboard,” Spyglass commanded. 

Rye gasped as a pegasus took wing and snatched up Lace Collar. The unicorn screamed, a ragged cry of fear and panic as he was lifted. And then without further ado, he was thrown over the rail. 

Rye Mash could hear his master screaming for quite some time afterward. He gulped and looked around him. After the screaming finally faded away, he gathered up the courage to speak. “You would really let me go?” he asked. 

“I do not tolerate slavery. And I really am sorry that my crew rolled you in the barrel. You were placed in there for your own safety. Sometimes, some of my crew are not the brightest ponies in the herd,” Spyglass replied. 

“But I was threatened with death and all manner of torture,” Rye retorted. 

“Well, you are a unicorn. We didn’t want you hurting us and I didn’t want my crew hurting you in return. We had to subdue you and find out who you were. I hope there are no hard feelings. I really am sorry and I apologise on behalf of my crew. I need a few sharper minds to help run the show and I could really use a unicorn,” Spyglass said in a well cultured voice that dripped with raw charisma. 

“I am not much of a unicorn,” Rye said. “I am fit to be a servant and little else,” he said. 

“They would tell you that,” a voice said. A female voice. 

Rye turned his head. A mare approached and the crew made room for her as she passed through the crowd. She was a unicorn. One eye blinked and then the other did a moment later. She twitched and jerked as she walked. She froze for a moment, craned her head, and then seemed to stare at something that wasn’t there. She then turned her gaze back upon Rye. 

“Let me guess… you are a type one or a type two. And you spent your entire time in school being told how worthless you were and how lucky you were that you have even a little bit of magic,” the mare said in a wavering and somewhat manic voice. 

Rye nodded and his words died in his throat once again. 

“This is Cerise Velvet. Formerly of the House Evening Star. Now my first mate. She had a bit of a falling out with her family when she found out how they made their money,” Spyglass said as he introduced the mare. “Everypony calls her Bloody Velvet. I wouldn’t cross her if I was you,” the pegasus warned. 

The unicorn mare smiled a lopsided smile. “He is far too young and innocent to cross me. Aren’t you?” she asked of Rye Mash. 

He nodded and backed away from her. Something about her was terrifying. “You… you are a type three, aren’t you?” Rye asked in a worried tone. “And you have the shivers.” 

Bloody Velvet nodded. “I am. And I do,” she replied. She jerked again, her leg kicking the deck and her hoof made a solid thump. 

Rye felt a twinge of pity. The shivers was a common affliction among the Canterlot nobles. Unicorns with too much power and not enough control. Usually they were kept away from the public, hidden away in a quiet place so nothing would spook them and invite potential catastrophe. And yet here one was serving on a ship full of ruffians and ne’er do wells. Rye was no longer certain they were pirates. The unicorn colt realised that he could not return to Canterlot. He couldn’t believe that he was contemplating joining this crew, not after what had just happened to Lace Collar. But he didn’t know where else to go or what to do. 

“I accept your offer of employment,” Rye said in a quavering voice. 

“Fantastic!” Spyglass exclaimed. “Velvet, could you be a dear and show this young colt to his quarters? Place him in the old quartermaster’s nook. You two can talk about unicorn stuff… get acquainted. Give him some time to calm down and collect his thoughts. I am sure that today has been most trying.” 

“Wait, I must ask, what happened to the crew of the ship that Lace Collar and I were traveling on?” Rye questioned. 

“They are below decks in the brig. They are being treated well. I plan to release them once we reach land. A few resisted and were subdued. One was killed because he would not submit. We don’t like killing but sometimes it must be done,” Spyglass replied. 

A strange sense of confusion settled over Rye Mash after hearing the captain’s words. The newspapers always had stories of how Spyglass never took prisoners and never left anypony alive. He had always trusted the newspapers as a source of truth. Lace Collar and his family owned several newspapers in a few different cities. They were considered a bastion of integrity and truth. Rye said nothing, but intended to ask the captain a few questions in private when he got the chance. 

“Follow me,” Bloody Velvet commanded, her voice cutting through Rye’s confusion. 

The young colt did as he was bid. He walked behind her and looked around him at the crew who were already starting to disperse to do their work. His eyes met several of those around him. He saw smiling friendly faces. Hopeful faces. 

He did not see the faces of pirates. 
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye found that his quarters were distressingly small. He had seen closets larger than the tiny room that was meant to be his. He supposed it was better than sleeping in a common room like most of the crew. There was a hammock and there was a tiny narrow desk that folded into the wall. 

“How is Canterlot?” 

Rye turned to look at Bloody Velvet. Her pelt was a fiery orange and her mane and tail were a bright bloody red. She was twitching and the corner of her mouth kept jerking into a lopsided smile. She was distractingly beautiful. 

“Canterlot is probably much the same as it was when you left,” Rye replied. “It is the eternal city. Nothing ever seems to change there,” he said. 

Bloody Velvet’s back arched for a moment and a leg kicked outwards. “I have things to do. I expect that the captain will be by to speak with you at some point. Settle in and get some rest. The captain is a very productive pony. He expects all of us to work tirelessly at our jobs. He had to throw the last cabin colt overboard,” she said as she turned to leave. 

“WHAT?” Rye shouted.

Bloody Velvet turned back around and one eye fluttered as she glanced at Rye Mash. “The last cabin colt was thrown overboard. He was lazy, he was sloppy, and he tried to betray the captain in the middle of combat. Tried to shoot the captain in the back. Stupid colt,” Bloody Velvet said. 

“Oh… oh my,” Rye gasped. “I would never do anything like that,” he said. 

“No. You wouldn’t. You’re fragile and prissy. You’d be too scared to ever pull a stupid stunt like that,” Bloody Velvet agreed. 

Hot shame flooded through Rye’s face. “I am not prissy,” he spat. “I’m cultured!” 

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard this all before,” the mare said as she turned to leave. “There is a woollen blanket in the cabinet under the desk. It gets cold at night up here at the higher altitudes.” She turned to look over her shoulder and gave Rye a final glance. “You seem nice. Life up here tends to make ponies not nice. Try to stay nice, okay?” she said as she departed. 

Rye stood alone in his quarters. It was narrow and long. He pulled the door shut and sat down near the desk, settling onto the wood floor. The ponies around him may or not be pirates, but they seemed quite comfortable with casual acts of killing. He shuddered, a cold tingling sensation running up and down his spine. His master Lace Collar was gone. And he was free. He didn’t know how to feel about his freedom. If he ever returned to Canterlot, there would be Tartarus to pay. 

Rye supposed that if things didn’t work out here that he could try to return home to the isles. He wondered if he had any family there. He could only barely remember that he had family. All he had was hazy memories. 

There was a faint rapping at the door. Rye turned to look and then opened the narrow plank door with his magic. There was a crew member standing there. 

“A few things for you sir, some of the baubles that were taken from the fop,” the crewmember said. 

“Thank you,” Rye said graciously, taking the bag in his magic. When the crewmember turned to go, Rye shut the door. 

He unfolded the desk from the wall and set the bag down. He opened it up and began to pull out its contents. There was a small tobacco snuff box made from silver and ivory. Rye shivered. Making something from another animal’s teeth. It was something that Lace Collar shouldn’t have… and made Rye quite puzzled. Lace Collar hated tobacco use. He called it vile and boorish. 

He pushed the snuff box aside for a moment and continued to plunder the bag. There was a bottle of cologne, a bar of sealing wax, and a small silver sealing wand with the symbol of House Avarice, which was a set of scales. There was a small bag filled with coins of all kinds. Equestrian bits, griffon dollars, and the small horn shaped bits of precious metal that the minotaurs used. 

There was nothing particularly special in the bag. 

Rye finally opened the snuff tin, his nose crinkling in disgust. The smell of the snuff was nauseating. There was also a bit of bone white parchment sticking out. Rye carefully pinched it in his magic and pulled it free from the snuff. It was a tightly rolled strip of parchment. 

He unrolled the parchment and looked at it. It was covered in letters. It was all garble though. There were no words, only a jumble of letters. Rye thoughtfully considered the letters as he stared at them. 

“Hello, I’ve found a code,” he mumbled to himself. 

This was perhaps a chance to get on the captain's good side. Telling the captain that he had found a coded message and presenting it to him would surely be seen as a sign of loyalty. And Rye wanted to make sure that the captain knew that he was loyal. The last thing Rye wanted was to suddenly find himself tossed over the rail. He wasn’t sure where they were, but they were over the ocean.  And it would be a long way down. 

It had been a long day. He thought about the capture. Clouds had enveloped the airship he had been on. And then from out of the clouds came harpoons that punctured the gasbag. Hooks had been thrown over. The ship began sinking slowly, losing precious cloudstuff out of the tears in the gasbag. There was some fighting on the decks. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The deck had been set on fire and most of the crew were more than willing to be captured to escape the burning and sinking vessel. 

And Rye had found himself taken and stuffed into a barrel. 

It could have been worse. At least he was still alive. And free. In a sense. A quiet sense of doubt slipped into his mind. He was free to do as he was told and he was free to go over the rail. He heaved a sigh of resignation and decided to make the most of his situation. 

He eyed the hammock. He had never slept in one before. A nap sounded rather nice right about now. He moved toward the hammock and raised a hoof. He gave a tug at at the netting and tried to ease himself in. He immediately found himself dumped on the floor. He gasped and struggled to draw breath, the fall having knocked the wind out of him. 

“Damn,” he muttered, a rare vulgarity slipping from his lips. Usually, he was far more genteel and polite. 

He tried the hammock again, this time hooking both front hooves onto the edge of the hammock and trying to boost himself into the netting slung between two walls. The hammock flipped and twisted. Once again, Rye found himself kissing the floorboards. 

“Oh son of a…” he hissed. 

He angrily swiped at the hammock and then tried to leap into the now hated object. He was almost in when at the last moment he felt the now familiar feeling of twisting in the air. A moment later he found himself on the floor. 

“YOU DIRTY LITTLE TEAT BITER!” he snarled. He felt a hot flash of embarrassment flood his cheeks. He didn’t know where those words came from. In his entire life he had never said anything quite like that. As far as angry profanities went, it was rather tame, but to Rye’s ears it sounded positively awful. 

The unicorn glared at the hammock, his now most hated enemy. Of all of the horrible things the hammock had done, the worst offense committed was causing Rye to lose his composure and the unicorn truly resented the inanimate object for doing so. 

Using his magic, he pulled the hammock open wide, made it stiff, and then he sort of rolled into it. He sprawled out and ceased the flow of magic. The hammock swung slightly and Rye found that he was quite comfortable. He took pleasure in his victory over the now hated hammock. 

His feeling of victorious triumph was short lived however. It wasn’t long before he slipped into an exhausted slumber. 



 

He awoke to the sounds of knocking. He struggled to get out of the hammock and found that he could not escape. He wiggled and twisted. His hated enemy had one last trick it seemed. Resentment boiled his unicorn blood. 

“Do come in. Forgive me, I am having some trouble with this damnable hammock,” Rye said to whomever was at the door. 

The door opened. “They are troublesome things,” Captain Spyglass said as he entered the small room. “Are you settling in? Other than the hammock, are you content?” 

“I think so,” Rye said in reply. “Having some trouble with the idea of such casual murder though,” he added. Rye looked at the captain as he remained slung in the hammock. 

“Ah, that. Well, I do believe in time as you learn more of what goes on that your feelings will change. We are not in Equestria. Things are different out here. Princess Celestia’s rule does not extend to the skies and the seas. The Sea of Grass, the homeland of the zebras, they have no means of influencing what goes on out here. The griffons… ah, the griffons. Most of the actual pirates you encounter will be griffons. The griffons are also slavers. You have to be careful with the griffons though,” Spyglass said as he sat down upon the floor and watched Rye who was squirming in his hammock. 

“Be careful?” Rye asked. 

“There are two sorts of griffons,” Spyglass replied. “Good ones and bad ones. The good ones are trying to escape Griffonholm. They flee their homeland, disgusted at what is going on there. They are trying to get to places like Equestria. Princess Celestia has been most gracious and takes in the refugees,” Spyglass explained.

“And the bad ones?” Rye asked. 

“The bad ones would eat you. They don’t care that you could talk. They would see you as nothing more than a slave at best or food at worst. They are horrible rapacious brutes that cannot be reasoned with. They believe that all other races are beneath them. Well, most of them. Some of them can be reasoned with to a small degree I suppose. I know that House Avarice trades slaves to them. If we ever get boarded by hostile griffons, start killing and hold nothing back. If you get captured, you will not like what happens afterward,” Spyglass said. 

Rye felt a cold shiver travel through his body. “I’ve never learned combat magic,” he admitted. 

“No, of course not. They wouldn’t teach a slave combat magic, the means to free himself,” Spyglass replied. The pegasus shook his head and looked disgusted. 

Rye felt hot anger course through him. He hated being called a slave. He hated it even more now that he knew that it was true. 

“I am going to have Bloody Velvet give you a pair of pistols and teach you how to use them. Your magic should allow you to hold it and fire it. Griffons and minotaurs invented guns to counter magic. I am trusting you with these firearms. Should we get in a pinch, I hope that you will have my back and not try to shoot me in the back,” Spyglass stated. “And Bloody Velvet will also start teaching you some combat magic. She’s more of a defensive sort, but she has some doozers as far as spells go. She’s the reason we are still airborne. She has the most marvelous shield spell. She can create an impenetrable bubble around the ship. It blocks cannon fire, harpoons, other spells, she really is an amazing wizard. You would do well to learn from her,” the pegasus said. 

Rye nodded and then remembered the scrap of parchment. “Oh, sir, I meant to tell you. I found a strip of parchment in Lace Collar’s snuffbox-” 

“Is it covered in what appears to be code?” Spyglass interrupted. 

“Yes sir, it is. I meant to tell you. You came in and we got to talking. I should have told you right away,” Rye said apologetically. 

Spyglass smiled. “I appreciate your loyalty. I am starting to like you Rye Mash,” the pegasus said. “I have other such scraps of paper. I have no idea what they mean yet, but I am dying to know what they say.” 

“If I could study them I might be able to puzzle them out. Lace Collar had me break a few ciphers for him,” Rye replied. 

“Oh really,” Spyglass said charmingly. 

“I just need a lot of words to look at. A pattern forms. Like the word ‘the’ for example. It connects other words together. You just start looking for the letter groupings of what might be the word ‘the’ and you figure out what those three letters are. And then you look for other common letter groupings like the word ‘are’ and whatnot. ‘The’ and ‘are’ both share a letter and it becomes pretty easy to guess what is what,” Rye explained. 

“Fascinating. I will tell you what. You crack that code and you will not be my cabin colt any longer. I will promote you to my intelligence officer. Or something like that. I’ve never had one before. But you would be the first. And I will double… no, triple your pay,” Spyglass offered. 

“You have a deal sir,” Rye answered. 

“Delightful!” Spyglass exclaimed. 
	
	
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye Mash walked slowly around the deck of the ship, watching the sun set off on the distant horizon. The sunset was never more beautiful than it was right now. The clouds were purple, orange, and red. The first stars of the evening were already shining on the other horizon. Somehow, the notion of being truly free made the sunset all the more beautiful even though he could not say why exactly. 

Other members of the crew also seemed to be taking a moment to enjoy the setting sun. 

“Yer the new cabin colt,” a voice in a clipped accent said. 

Rye turned to face the pony speaking to him. He saw a pegasus. A scrawny looking pegasus. 

“Name’s Skeeter. My mother named me Mosquito. This is my first tour. I left home looking to find my way in the world. Captain Spyglass offered twice the wages of everypony else,” the pegasus said, introducing himself and offering a bit of history. 

“My name is Rye Mash. I’m named after a type of whiskey. I was captured today and joined the crew,” Rye said. “Hey, do you know where we are going?” Rye asked. 

“Trottingham,” Skeeter answered. 

“So the Shire Isles,” Rye said as he turned his gaze out towards the colourful horizon. 

“Yep, the Old World. Captain Spyglass wasn’t lying when he promised me that I would be able to see the world if I toured with him. I’m just a poor pegasus from Cloudsdale. I never thought I’d have a chance at a good life,” Skeeter said with great enthusiasm. 

“I am from Canterlot. Well, sort of. I was originally from the Shetland Isles. And then I spent time in Fillydelphia. And then Canterlot,” Rye explained in reply. 

“Yer a Shetlander,” Skeeter said slowly. “I’ve met a few of your kind. Always glad to meet your kind. Shetlanders tend to be some of the nicest ponies I’ve ever met,” Skeeter said. “Shame about what goes on there though,” he added in a low voice. 

Rye nodded and  turned his gaze back to Skeeter. “So what is it that you do?” Rye asked. 

“Me? I gather clouds and help to compress them into the gasbag. I also fetch clouds and stuff them into the condenser so we can have water for both drinking and powering the steam engines. I also move cargo, well, the stuff I can lift, and will do most anything I am asked,” Skeeter replied. 

“You mean to tell me that there are clouds in there?” Rye asked as he looked up at the gasbag. 

“Super compressed clouds. And a bit of unicorn magic. We pegasi can build cities out of clouds. Hanging an airship from a compressed cloudbank is easy. We do have to get unicorns to enchant the ship though so it is super light,” Skeeter explained as he answered Rye’s question. 

During his entire time aboard an airship he had never bothered to ask how they stayed aloft. Rye felt a little stupid. He continued to stare upwards at the gasbag in disbelief. It was nothing more than clouds. The only thing keeping the ship aloft was clouds. A few bits of fluff were all that kept him and everypony else from plunging to their death. 

“I have to go, stuff to do, but I hope we will talk again,” Skeeter said. 

“It was pleasant meeting you,” Rye said as Skeeter departed. He heard a growl coming from his stomach and wondered where he could get a bite to eat. 



 

Officer’s mess was separate from the crewmember’s mess Rye discovered, and as cabin boy he had the privilege of eating in the tiny officer’s mess. Everything onboard this ship seemed tiny and cramped. Officer’s mess was a round table secured to the wooden floor. No chairs. There was a tiny window to the kitchen that food was passed though. 

Dinner was a chunk of black bread, a bowl of thick root vegetable stew, two apples, and the option of a few pickled eggs, which Rye gladly took. It was much better food than he was used to eating. Back home, the servants were fed leftovers boiled into a runny gruel. Abroad with Lace Collar, Rye ate whatever the deckhands were eating, which wasn’t much. The food was delightful. The cook made it known that the officers and the deckhands ate the same food, just in different places. Deckhands ate on deck or below decks. 

Rye ate alone and pondered his situation. He realised that he was finally in a position to do something with his life. He wasn’t just planning the future as he had done when he was Lace Collar’s servant, hoping for the day when he had his freedom and his debt was paid off. His future actually was his own now. He had a chance to make some money if he could crack the code on the parchment strips. The notion of his future was almost overwhelming. It was no longer a distant dream, something to daydream about. It was here, it was now, and he had a good opportunity to make something of himself. 

He chewed thoughtfully on his chunk of black bread. It was oily and smelled a bit weird. He couldn’t remember the name of the oil used to preserve the bread and keep the mould away. It smelled faintly of pine. 

The door opened and Bloody Velvet entered. She sat down at the table and twitched a bit. “I was hoping to find you here. I understand that I am to give you firearms training. We will begin tomorrow. I have a brace of pistols taken from a griffon. Nice weapons. Large bore. There is also a shotgun. I shall have to teach you about the rules of combat aboard an airship, like never fire upwards,” she said, the corner of her mouth ticking as she spoke. 

Rye nodded but said nothing because his mouth was full. 

Bloody Velvet turned her head and stared into the corner. She cringed and shuddered. 

Rye swallowed and found his courage. It was probably a foolhardy thing that he was about to do, but he figured that there was no harm in asking. “What do you see?” he asked. 

“Bah, if I told you, you would only think I was crazy like everypony else,” Bloody Velvet replied. 

“Try me,” Rye said. He then slurped up a pickled egg. 

Bloody Velvet sighed and slumped. “I don’t like talking about it. I know how crazy it makes me sound,” she said in a low voice. One ear took on a metronome like twitch. 

“I once saw a ghost. Nopony believes me. Everypony laughed and thought I was barmy,” Rye said. 

Bloody Velvet smiled a lopsided smile. “I believe you,” she said. The mare sighed. “Princess Celestia sees all,” she began. “I know it sounds paranoid, but I swear it is true. She latches on to certain ponies that she finds interesting. She has a realm… some place on the astral plane I think. A grey place. It is full of big moving pictures… like paintings that move. And she watches certain ponies that interest her. And I can see her divination magic,” Bloody Velvet stated. 

Rye chewed a bit of black bread, swallowed, and nodded. “I believe you,” he said sincerely. 

“Wait, are you actually being honest?” Bloody Velvet asked. 

Rye nodded and took another bite. 

“She knows I can see her globes of divination magic. She keeps trying to hide them. She’s been watching me for a long time. I used to be one of her students. One day I was drifting through the astral realms and I accidentally found my way into her own private pocket plane. I saw her. She didn’t know that I could see her. At least not then. I am certain that she has since overheard me talking about it to a number of ponies including yourself,” the mare stated. 

“She wouldn’t be a princess for as long as she has been if she didn’t have a means to spy on ponies,” Rye reasoned. “It seems plausible that she uses her alicorn magic to keep an eye on threats,” he added. 

“You really do believe me,” Bloody Velvet said in a stunned voice. 

Rye stuck his muzzle into his wooden soup bowl and sucked in a mouthful of soup. It was cooled off enough to eat. He lifted his head and studied Bloody Velvet thoughtfully. He suspected that she was watching him carefully, looking for the slightest sign that he was patronising her. Rye was a clever unicorn, or so he thought. 

“It is nice to have another unicorn to talk to. All these brutes and numbskulls grow tiresome. Sure, some of them are good conversationalists, but I can’t talk to them about magic,” Bloody Velvet said wistfully. 

“Does it ever bother you being a mare on a ship full of stallions?” blurted out Rye rather suddenly. 

Bloody Velvet stared at Rye Mash and blinked a few times, her blinking still out of synch. The corner of her mouth twitched and pulled, sometimes up, sometimes down, and other than the uncontrollable tics, her expression remained blank. 

“I only ask because I worry. I mean, call me old fashioned, but I actually worry about the fairer sex. I uh, oh my that look you are giving me… I uh always try to make sure to let the new servant girls know that they should never allow themselves to be alone in a room with several males because… uh… oh…” Rye’s words faded into a worried silence. 

“For a moment I thought you were implying something about me and my position on this ship. And then I realised that you were showing genuine concern for my well being. I had almost forgotten what that is like,” Bloody Velvet said carefully, trying to ease her piercing glare. “I might be the only mare on this ship, but Spyglass has made it very clear that I am not here for the crew’s enjoyment and that I am not to be harassed. I’ve only had to kill one pony to make that point clear,” she continued.

“Did you throw him over the rail?” Rye said, his voice becoming a terrified squeak at the end. 

“No,” Bloody Velvet replied. “I tore his potato sack off using my magic. He bled to death while I lectured him.” 

Rye gulped. His mouth was empty and he was glad. It was suddenly too dry to ever hope to swallow anything like food. He cleared his throat several times. “And this is why I make it a point to respect mares,” he murmured in a strained voice. 

“I like you,” Bloody Velvet announced. “I think we will get along quite well.” 

“I hope so,” said Rye in a high pitched reply. “I like my potato sack. I will be on my best behaviour. If I ever offend you by accident, please give me a chance to atone for my mistake,” he begged. 

Bloody Velvet smiled warmly and seemed to relax somewhat, her twitching becoming noticeably calmer. “You really are a nice pony. Now I am worried about you. Seriously, life up here has a way of changing you. It is every pony for themselves. Many of our situations are kill or be killed sort of affairs. Spyglass is a good sort and he does good things, but make no mistake. He is a killer. His business is doing bad things to the deserving,” Bloody Velvet said in a low emotionless voice. 

The pair of ponies continued to study one another. Bloody Velvet watched as Rye Mash continued to eat. She felt a pang of regret over leaving home. “You remind me of my husband,” she said, emotion now evident in her voice. 

“You are married?” Rye asked. 

“I am. Or was. I married young. Arranged marriage. I had two foals. Twins. For which I am thankful for the both of them, because I would never allow him to touch me ever again. Feeling him touching me made my skin crawl. He was slimy and repugnant. I wasn’t always like this you know,” Bloody Velvet said in regretful tones. “I didn’t always have the shivers.” 

“I remind you of your husband? I hope that isn’t a mark against me,” Rye said in a worried voice. 

“Oh, he was a boisterous eater. Sort of like you. You have manners, but it is clear to anypony watching that you want to wolf it down. He didn’t care who was watching. He was a horrible pig of a pony,” the mare stated in disgusted tones. “Don’t worry, I like you. Just the way you are made me think of him. Don’t worry, I will not hold it against you,” she promised. 

“So you left home and made a life for yourself here… what happened?” Rye asked. 

“I’ll tell you at some other time,” Bloody Velvet replied. “Suffice it to say, I found out certain truths that I was unhappy with. I was unhappy at home. So I left,” she finished. 

“I look forward to knowing more,” Rye said after swallowing a bite of apple. 

“Tomorrow I want you up by dawn. Rear of the ship. I’ll be teaching you how to shoot. I hope you are not easily spooked. Some ponies are,” Bloody Velvet said. “I must be going. I have certain duties to attend to,” she continued with a quivering smile. “And when I have some free time, we will be going over some basic combat spells,” she said as she rose and headed for the door. 

“I shall do my best to not disappoint you,” Rye said as the mare pushed through the door. 

“You have already exceeded my expectations,” Bloody Velvet replied as she disappeared from view. 
	
	
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The dawn was cold and grey. Rye Mash stared out over the rear of the ship. He had awoken quite early, freezing cold and able to see his breath. He had covered himself with the blanket during the night, but had neglected to wrap it around himself, not thinking that he was exposed from below because of the now hated hammock. He was sore all over from shivering and stiff from the cold. 

His balls felt like raisins, not that he would ever admit such an uncouth thing out loud where other ponies might hear. It was so cold that they had retreated to warmer places and Rye was thankful that his tail covered up his embarrassment. 

He stomped his hooves as his teeth chattered. His nostrils stung and he could feel what felt like pinpricks on his ears. Crewmembers bustled around him, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Most of them were pegasi, and he supposed that pegasi had some sort of natural cold resistance, living up in the clouds as most of them did. 

“You’ll get used to it.” 

Rye felt relief when he heard Bloody Velvet’s voice. He had been here early and was waiting on her, which he hoped was a good sign. She came into view a moment later, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Her breath was visible and steam wafted from off of her back. She was carrying a small wooden trunk in her magic. 

“Everything in this wooden trunk is for you. Everything you need. Two pistols, a shotgun, and various supplies. Top of the line stuff. The very latest in muzzleloading technology,” she announced. “The griffon we took them from was a noble. He had good gear. Didn’t help him as he died screaming.” 

Rye stared at the mare and stood there with his teeth chattering. 

“I like pistols. While I use magic, I find that a couple of guns are really handy in combat. Allows me to conserve energy. Mine are currently in my quarters, but I can call them to me at a moment’s notice. You are probably not as magically gifted, so use the body harness in the trunk. It can be adjusted to fit you. It has holsters for the pistols and a sheath for the shotgun. I must warn you though, it is made from leather,” Bloody Velvet said in a loud clear voice that echoed weirdly through the clouds all around them. 

“Leather?” said Rye in disgust. 

“I know, it is awful, but I assure you, you will need it. The harness will hold your whole kit. The pepper shaker full of black powder, a tin full of wadding, one pouch full of lead balls for the pistols and one pouch full of nails for the shotgun,” the unicorn mare explained. 

“Nails?” Rye inquired, his eyes going wide. 

“I like nails. There are also little lead pellets you can make, there is a press for them inside of the trunk, but they are a pain to produce. I prefer nails for that ‘I am going to mess up your pretty face’ effect that nails have,” she said. She paused for a moment. “Well, all shotguns will mess up a pretty face, but nails send a message to your enemies. Psychological factors and all that,” Bloody Velvet said. 

The unicorn colt was absolutely horrified. 

“It isn’t enough just to shoot somebody. Where you shoot them is important. And what you shoot them with,” Bloody Velvet explained to the stunned colt standing before her. She raised her eyebrow. “Is this sinking in?” she inquired. 

Rye nodded. 

“Very good. I am going to show you how to load a pistol. And then you are going to load the other pistol after I show you. If you don’t get it right, don’t worry. We will go over this again and again until you get it right. And you want to get it right. Because if you get it wrong, the gun could explode. And that would be bad for you,” Bloody Velvet warned. 

Rye’s eyes went even wider at the mare’s words and he resolved to pay attention. The last thing he wanted was his gun exploding anywhere near him. Especially a gun full of nails. His imagination became a bit overactive and he shuddered in disgust. He tried to push the horrible thoughts out of his mind. 

He watched the unicorn mare as she opened the trunk and pulled out one of pistols. It was large. Much larger than Rye expected. Not so much a pistol as a small cannon, or so he thought. The hole in the barrel was larger than a grape. She lifted it in her magic and held it before his eyes. He peered down at it. The grips were made of rosewood and the metal parts were shiny and looked like silver. 

“Pay attention. Always make sure the gun is unloaded before you begin and that it is half cocked. Like so,” Bloody Velvet said. She pulled back the hammer until it made a click. “And this is the ramrod,” she said, pulling a long thin metal rod out from under the barrel of the pistol. “You will note that it has a mark right here,” she said, highlighting the notch with her magic. “When you insert it into the muzzle, if the end of the muzzle lines up with the notch, the gun is unloaded. If this line extends past the end of the muzzle, the gun is loaded. Got that?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Rye said. “I want to make sure the notch lines up,” he repeated. 

“Good colt,” Velvet praised. 

“What are those other marks for?” he asked. 

“Ah, clever colt,” Velvet said in her loud clear voice. “This one tells you if the gun has a powder load, and this mark here lets you know about the wadded ball positions. This way you will always know the situation at the bottom of the barrel. Like if somebody loads your guns for you, or starts to do so and goes off because of a distraction,” Velvet explained. 

“So never let somepony else load my guns for me and always, always check my marks just in case I get distracted or something,” Rye noted. 

Velvet nodded. “You are entirely too clever,” she said warmly. 

Rye smiled and felt a little bit warmer. Velvet was too hard of a pony to give out false praise and he felt rather good that he had impressed her. 

“Always check the lock and trigger alignment. Sometimes they need adjusting. I will show you the finer points of this later in a very well lit environment. We will have to disassemble the pistol a bit to do this properly,” Velvet said, showing him the mechanisms. “Also, check your cap seat. You need this right here to fire the gun. It wears down over time and will need to be replaced. I will show you how to do that later. With me so far?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Rye answered. 

“Okay, here we go. First off, lubricate your barrel. This little vial here can be daubed onto a bit of wadding and then the barrel is swabbed. Not too much or you will gum up the ignition source,” Velvet warned. She demonstrated, holding the pistol pointing straight up and swabbing the barrel with a single sheet of wadding. 

Rye watched her carefully and committed the process to memory. He felt that his meticulous nature would be useful here. 

“And then you take your pepper shaker, pop off this bit here, and then you carefully pour the powder into this little measurer. Once you do that, you pour the powder down the barrel of the pistol,” Velvet instructed. “Give it a few taps to settle the powder. Real easy to do with magic. Tap tap!” she chirped in a cheerful voice. 

“Got it,” Rye acknowledged. 

“Now comes the shot. You grab a bullet, drop it in, and then you use this rod to tamp it down. Gently. The lead is soft. You don’t want to deform the bullet and have it lodged inside of your barrel, trust me,” she said as she shook her head. “Seen it happen. Messy. Blew off a griffon’s claw. Somebody was careless. Don’t let it happen to you.” 

Rye nodded. 

“This mark will let you know that the bullet is seated,” Velvet explained as she showed him what to look for. “Never stab violently, but short gentle prodding, just like making love to a mare. A firm thrust followed by holding it in place to seat your load.” 

Rye’s blood was suddenly far too warm inside of his body and the cold air ceased to bother him at all. He felt overheated and began to sweat. 

“Oh… oh my. You’re an innocent little colt, aren’t you?” she asked. “No, don’t bother saying anything that might embarrass us both,” Velvet suggested. The corner of her mouth began to twitch slightly. 

Rye could not tell if it was from repressed laughter or a nervous tic. Her symptoms didn’t seem as bad this morning. He became painfully aware of the fact that his balls had thawed out and he could feel the cold on his now overheated thin and wrinkled skin back there. 

Bloody Velvet giggled and then continued. “Gentle prodding. Gentle. Now add a bit of wadding to secure your shot in the barrel. Tamp that down. Again, do so gently. Never slam your ramrod down. Now, the gun is loaded,” Bloody Velvet announced. 

Rye looked at the pistol and then at Velvet, his cheeks still on fire. 

“Now, we seat a cap right here. Griffons need a priming tool, but we can just use magic to seat the cap on the nipple. Secure the safety, and pull the hammer back to full cock. You are done, the gun is loaded, You are free to secure the pistol back into its holster until you need it. Just pull it out, flip the safety, point, aim, and shoot,” Velvet said. 

“I think I got it,” Rye said. 

“Don’t tell me, show me,” Velvet said, looking down at the other gun secured in the trunk. “Think you can do everything I just showed you?” she asked. 

Rye nodded but said nothing. He concentrated and lifted the gun in his magic. He closed his eyes and thought about everything Bloody Velvet had shown him. He pulled the hammer out to half lock. He then opened his eyes and inserted the rod down into the barrel of the gun to check which mark he aligned with. The pistol was empty. He took a single sheet of wadding, daubed it with the oil vial, and then slid it down the barrel. He carefully lifted the pepper shaker and measured out a bit of powder. He then poured it down the barrel. He tapped the pistol three times using his magic. He lifted a ball and inserted it into the end of the barrel, took the rod, and then carefully and gently tamped it down, feeling his cheeks ignite once again as he did so. He pressed down firmly but gently and he felt the ball and powder compress as he did so. He pulled the rod out and then stuffed some wadding down the barrel. He secured a cap over the nipple, feeling a wave of heat wash over him as he completed this step, he then engaged the safety, and then he pulled the hammer back to full cock. 

“Well done. Not one single mistake. I am honestly impressed,” Velvet said. “Now we can fire them. After that, we reload them. And fire them again. And once I am sure you have the whole process down, we will begin with the shotgun. Do not expect breakfast. I want to see you hungry and suffering while we do this so I know you can do it under a stressful situation,” Bloody Velvet stated in a harsh voice. 

“I understand ma’am,” Rye replied. 

Bloody Velvet’s horn flashed and off of the rear of the ship, a small bullseye target presented itself. “I want you to shoot that. Don’t worry if you can’t hit it the first few times,” she commanded. “You have two shots before you have to reload, make them count. Now to shoot, lift the gun in your magic, hold it in front of your face, and try to look down the barrel. You will see some notches. Line them up. You want the notches lined up over the target. When you think you got it, pull the trigger back with your magic. Good luck.” 

Rye carefully lifted the gun up to eye level, peered down the sights, carefully lined up the notches, understanding what he needed to do now that he saw what Bloody Velvet was talking about, and carefully took aim. 

He pulled the trigger. There was a flash and a roar followed by the smell of rotten eggs. The target flashed red and disappeared. 

Bloody Velvet stood there, one eye wide, the other eye narrowed and her eyelid twitching slightly. The ear over her twitching eye flicked a few times. “Bloody balls,” the mare swore. 

“I thought it was okay to miss,” Rye cried out in alarm. 

“You didn’t miss,” Velvet snapped. “You hit it. Dead on.” The mare turned to look at Rye and studied him carefully. “Well no bloody wonder. Look at you now. Something is different.” 

Rye stared at the mare. “Did I blow off my eyebrows?” he asked. “I blew off my eyebrows and now I look like an inept cretin don’t I?” 

Velvet laughed riotously in reply. “No, but you should have a look at your own arse,” she suggested. She laughed some more. “Spyglass is going to piss himself when he finds out about this.” 

Rye jerked his head around, trying to see what was so funny. He couldn’t see anything out of place. 

Bloody Velvet moved to his side and whacked him solidly on his backside. 

“Ow!” he cried, staring at where she had struck him. He gasped. “I have a mark now,” he said in a low voice. 

“That you do,” Velvet agreed. 

There was a pair of crossed pistols now upon his backside, smaller versions of the pistols that Velvet had given him. He blinked a few times, trying to take in what he was looking at. 

“A pony with a firearms talent. First time I’ve ever seen that,” Bloody Velvet said. “Well, you just increased your value a great deal Rye Mash. When Spyglass hears about this he is going to be very pleased that he convinced you to be in his employ.” 

“I have a mark,” Rye said again. He continued to stare at his own backside. “I have a meaning for my life. A purpose. I have a reason to exist,” he said in an excited tone. 

“Yeah you do,” Velvet replied. “Too bad when other folk meet you, the purpose for their own life is going to end.” 

Rye felt a cold chill at Bloody Velvet’s words and the implications of what she said. 

“Oh, don’t look so glum. We all have to serve a purpose. Your purpose is to put an end to those awful sorts that rob other beings of their potential. That’s what slavery is you know. Theft of life. A robbery of purpose. With a mark like that, you are going to go places Rye. Now come on. I want to you keep shooting and reloading until I feel that you are comfortable with the process. And congratulations on your mark,” Velvet said in cheerful tones.

Rye managed to give Velvet a halfhearted smile, the joy of having his mark now faded, the sobering knowledge of what his mark represented settling into his mind. 
	
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye frowned as he stared down at the miscellaneous scraps of paper before him. There were dozens and dozens of them. The captain was trusting him with them, and that made Rye feel pretty good about himself. These scraps of paper were valuable. Irreplaceable. They told a story. They explained something. And he was determined to find out what that something was. 

The past several days had been filled with lessons of all kinds. Some shooting, which had ceased because Bloody Velvet didn’t want him to burn through his supplies, a few lessons in practical combat magic, some time spent learning what was expected from him as a cabin colt, and a full tour of the ship. He was expected to know every inch of it. The Whalefish was a large vessel with a crew of over fifty. It was powered by steam. It had once burned coal but had since been upgraded with arcano-tech boilers so it was harder to track in cloud cover. 

He had copied the scraps over to several sheets of paper and had begun to circle words that kept reappearing over and over, hoping to spot patterns. The code was devious. There were no easy three letter words to spot, and that concerned him. He had however discovered many instances of a six letter word that kept reappearing and he suspected that three letter words might be represented by six letters, two letters for each actual letter in the word to throw off the codebreakers. There were variations to be found in the six letter word that kept reappearing, but it was close enough that it made Rye suspicious. 

There was a knock and then the door was thrown open. “On deck now, we’re hunting a ship,” Spyglass said, sticking his head in the door. 

Rye carefully tucked his papers away and folded the desk. He was already armed. At Bloody Velvet’s advice, he slept with his harness on and his pistols secured on his body. His shotgun was tucked away in a sheath that ran the length of his body. 

He emerged upon deck a few moments later and saw the crew looking grim. Bloody Velvet was concentrating and her horn glowed with eye burning intensity. Rye took his place at the captain's side and looked down to eye his kit, hoping that he had properly tucked away his gear. 

“Stay silent,” Spyglass whispered. “Velvet has made us invisible, which is quite a feat for a unicorn. We’re moving in to board the ship. Looks to be of griffon make. Probably a slave ship,” the captain said, giving Rye the rundown on the situation. 

Rye could feel the tension in the air and in his muscles. He pulled out one of his pistols, glanced it at, looking it over nervously. He slid it back into its holster and then pulled the second, also giving it a once over. He could fire and reload three times in one minute, which Bloody Velvet had been mildly impressed with. A crack gunslinger could load and fire five times in a minute, which left Rye something to work for. He hoped that he could perform under pressure. His tongue felt dry and it clung to the roof of his mouth.

The clouds parted and he saw the griffon ship. It was a bit larger than The Whalefish but did not look to be as well armed. He spied cannons peeking out the sides. Small guns. And they seemed to be completely oblivious about the ship creeping up on them. 

“Steady,” Spyglass said, eyeing his nervous crew. 

A terrible stench was in the air. Rye’s nose crinkled. It smelled of piss and crap, and even worse. The unicorn gagged and felt sick. He looked at Spyglass and the pegasus was holding an orange spiked with cloves up to his nose with one wing. 

The harpoon guns were ready, and the cables were carefully greased in their spools. 

“Remember, do not damage the gasbag. We have prisoners still below. If there are slaves, we have no room to keep them, so we will need to tow the ship,” Spyglass commanded. 

Rye could hear gagging as the stench settled over the rest of the crew. He could hear muttering and the words “slave stench” were being said over and over in a low murmur from the crowd. 

“I am going to carry you over and drop you on deck,” Spyglass warned as he looked sternly at Rye Mash. “I expect for you to prove yourself today,” he said. 

“Of course sir,” Rye replied nervously. 

They were right up along side of the other ship now, just a few yards away. Rye felt a twinge of panic, worried that the ships might collide. Tension roiled through his guts and Rye feared that he was going to piss himself and make himself look like a coward. 

“Break cover!” Spyglass shouted. “Board!” he commanded. 

There was a thunderous roar as the harpoon guns were fired, securing the ships together. Pegasi took to the air and swarmed the other ship. Cannons were not used out of fear of harming what was bound to be in the ship’s hold. Amid all the chaos, Rye felt himself being lifted by Spyglass. 

As they crossed between ships and Rye realised that he was thousands of feet up in the air, he pissed himself. He could feel the hot liquid running down his back legs and it mirrored the hot shame coursing through his body. 

He found himself dropped on deck next to a very confused griffon who stared at him hatefully. He saw a pistol being pulled from a sash the griffon wore. Rye cleared leather faster, aimed, and shot. It was practically point blank range. 

The griffon’s head vanished quite suddenly and Rye felt something hot and wet cover his face. He didn’t have time to register what it was, he was already loading the pistol even as he was pulling out the second one. There were screams all around him. Pegasi and griffons were locked in battle, ancient enemies filled with ancient hatred. Griffons considered pegasi foals quite a delicacy, or so Rye had been told by a pegasus crewmember one night on deck. 

Rye forced his legs to move and he plowed into the fray. He shot a griffon in the back and watched as it fell. His ears rang. He heard the clang of steel. There was so much screaming. Some sort of hot liquid splashed upon his side. He reloaded as he moved. 

He heard a familiar voice and turned his head. Skeeter was pinned beneath a griffon and the pegasus was trying to fend off slashing blows from the griffon’s claws with his front hooves. Skeeter’s face was bloody and one cheek was torn open. 

Rye raised his pistol, aimed for the griffon’s eye, and fired. 

The bullet struck the griffon in the beak, tearing away the beak and ripping most of his face off, causing the griffon to gurgle and struggle to draw breath. Skeeter shoved the griffon away and looked at Rye. Skeeter was on his feet in a second and was at Rye’s side. 

The griffon, now missing his beak, died slowly from blood loss and choking. 

Rye was already reloading. Skeeter was at his side now, and the two ponies watched one another’s backs as they began to move through the fray. The battle on the deck was already ending, over almost as quickly as it had begun. Rye slipped in a puddle of blood and nearly lost his footing. Skeeter steadied him with a wing and Rye smiled at his friend. Poor Skeeter was in no condition to smile. The pegasus’ cheek was torn open and his molars were visible. 

Rye looked around for something to shoot. There was nothing. The deck was secured. A few griffons were being executed by Spyglass after trying to surrender. Rye watched in shocked horror as their heads were crushed beneath Spyglass’ hoof one by one. 

“We still have to secure the rest of the ship. The captain will have likely fortified himself down below,” Bloody Velvet snarled. Two guns floated near her head as she spoke. Both were still smoking, but looked loaded and ready to go. 

“You going to be alright?” Rye asked the pegasus at his side. 

Skeeter nodded but made no effort to speak. Blood trickled down the side of his face. 

“I can probably stitch that up if you will let me,” Rye offered. “I learned how to sew so I could make repairs to my master’s clothing,” he explained. Rye spat. The word “master” left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Skeeter looked afraid but nodded. 

“Rye, I need you. Your work isn’t done. You are coming with Bloody Velvet and I below decks. We need to root out the captain and kill that buggering son of a bitch,” Spyglass said. 

“Aye aye,” Rye said. 

The captain raised an eyebrow and stared at the colt. “Aye aye? Really? Have you heard even one of my crewmembers say that even once?” Spyglass asked. 

The colt shook his head “no” sheepishly but said nothing. 

Spyglass looked at the pegasus beside Rye and scowled. “That looks bad. Somepony get some cloth and apply pressure. We need to get the bleeding to stop,” the captain ordered. 

“I can probably stitch it up later,” Rye offered. 

“You think you can do that?” Spyglass asked. 

“I can sew, how hard can it be?” Rye answered. 

“Somebody see that the pegasus is looked after. Gather the wounded together and make sure they are cared for and given the respect they deserved. Young Mister Rye Mash will be sewing them all up later,” Spyglass announced. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Bloody Velvet barked. She was twitching alarmingly. “I’m getting a headache. I need rest. All of this magic use is wearing me down,” she grumbled. She was having trouble walking on her jerky legs. 

Spyglass kicked open the door and carefully peered inside, hoping that nobody would blow his head off when he did. It was dark. The lamps had been extinguished. 

“Take point Velvet,” Spyglass ordered. 

“No, sir, she’s not well, let me take point,” Rye offered. He cast one final glance at his friend Skeeter and then peered into the darkness. He lit his horn and tried to look resolute. 

Spyglass looked at Rye thoughtfully and then turned to Velvet. Velvet gave a nod to the captain and the corner of her mouth tugged upwards, causing her face to contort. 

“Very well. Rye, would you please lead the way,” Spyglass commanded. 

Rye pulled out his shotgun and slipped through the door. There was a narrow hallway with a door on each side and then some stairs leading down. He peered around him carefully, remembering a story about booby traps. He had no intention of being a booby. He saw no wires, no string, nothing like what he had heard in the story from the three legged pegasus. He touched the floor with his magic and pressed downwards. Perhaps he was being too paranoid. 

“You can never be too paranoid,” Bloody Velvet announced. 

Rye wanted to look at her and ask her how she knew what he was thinking, but getting distracted now was a bad idea. He made a mental note to ask her later. 

“Better you don’t ask me about it at all,” Bloody Velvet suggested. 

Rye bit down on his lip in frustration and pressed onwards, moving forward slowly and cautiously. Bloody Velvet was right behind him and Captain Spyglass brought up the rear. He checked the stairs before stepping, looking for holes in the walls, tell tale signs of some kind of booby trap. There were none. He took the stairs slowly, cautiously advancing. Finally, at the bottom, he saw a four way crossing. Behind him was the stairs, to his left was a hallway, ahead of him was a long hallway ending in an ornate door, and on his right was short hallway and more stairs. 

A door opened on the left and a griffon stepped out, holding a pistol in his claws. Without even thinking Rye pointed the shotgun he was holding in his magic and fired. The sound was deafening in the narrow confines. The blast blew off one of the griffon’s forelegs and left him with a face full of nails. 

Bloody Velvet strangled the griffon with her magic and finished him off. 

“The captain will likely be behind that door. Barricaded no doubt. And probably very well armed,” Spyglass said as he stepped into the right hallway and took cover behind a corner. Rye joined him and Bloody Velvet went left, stepping over the remains of the griffon. 

“I’ve never been so afraid in my whole life,” Rye muttered. “Even when you captured me and I was stuffed into a barrel.” 

“Hold steady Rye,” Spyglass said in a calm whisper. 

“I’m okay, just saying that I am scared out of my mind,” Rye explained. 

Spyglass nodded. “When this is all over it will probably settle in on you what you’ve done. Keep your nerve,” the pegasus said. “My lovely Velvet, would you so kindly open the door?” Spyglass requested. 

The door was ripped from its hinges and a thunderous blast filled the hallway. Rye looked around at all of the new holes in the walls. There were lead pellets everywhere. He gulped and was glad he had taken cover around the corner. 

“He’ll have a second gun and maybe a few more. Don’t ever rush a cornered captain,” Spyglass instructed. “Just sit tight and give me time to think.” 

Rye fiddled with his gear and began to reload his own shotgun. When he was finished, he looked at the tin of wadding and had an idea. He kept his kit clean and orderly, and had polished the metal box to an almost mirror finish. Holding it in his magic, he levitated it out past the corner and used it to peer into the captain’s quarters. He saw no sign of the captain, who was probably behind cover. He peered over at Velvet who was shaking quite badly. Her guns were still steady in her magic though. 

“I have an idea,” Rye said in a very low whisper. He pulled out his pistols and held them at ready with his magic. “I need you to toss that body into the hallway,” Rye instructed. 

Velvet shrugged, not understanding what Rye was about to do, but complied. She hoisted up the body in her magic and tossed it into the hallway. It bounced off the wall with a loud thump. 

Looking into his mirrored metal box, Rye saw a flash of white pop up. Both pistols swiveled into position and fired. Rye had used the reflection to aim. There were three gunshots. Two from Rye and one from the trapped griffon. 

There was a loud scream from the captain’s quarters. Unbeknownst to Rye, he had missed with one shot, but the other had scored a hit, the lead ball lodging into griffon’s front left shoulder. 

“You miserable bastard!” the griffon screamed. “You shot me… I am going to eat your damn eyes and kill you!” 

“You are so very lucky that you have witnesses to confirm that you made that shot,” Spyglass said. “Remind me to buy you a drink sometime. Meanwhile, we wait for him to bleed a bit,” the pegasus said as he settled himself against the wall and made himself comfortable. 

“Oh by the old gods it hurts,” the griffon moaned. “You bastard!” he swore. 

“He’s a whiner,” Velvet hissed in the dim hallway. “I hate the ones that whine as they die. Big tough slaver dies whining!” she shouted. 

“Shut your cock sucking hole!” the griffon snarled. 

“I am going to kill him,” Rye announced. “That sort of language is intolerable,” he spat. “To speak to a lady in such a fashion… unthinkable!” 

“You’ve upset my cabin colt,” Spyglass shouted. “Now he is insufferably chivalrous,” the captain complained as he rolled his eyes. 

Rye glared at his captain, one eyebrow raised. His reloaded guns hovered in the air before him. 

“Don’t look at me like that Rye, if you heard Bloody Velvet go off on one of her sweary streaks your ears would burn off,” Spyglass insisted. 

Rye continued to eye his floating tin, trying to see into the captain’s quarters. “She is still a lady,” Rye muttered in protest. 

“Ugh, I hate waiting on dying griffons. This is more unpleasant than the stinky green dribble from an infected dick,” Velvet spat. 

Rye blinked a few times, unable to take in what he had just heard. 

“I’m not dying,” the griffon cried out in protest. 

Rye moved his shotgun along the floor, trying to maneuver it down the hall. He watched the reflection in the polished tin carefully. There was no sign of the griffon. The shotgun was a mere inch off of the floor and creeping down the hallway. Rye was struggling to hold it up at this distance and the further it got the heavier it felt. The griffon, when he had been visible, had looked like he had popped out from the right and Rye turned his shotgun towards the right side of the door, intending to levitate it in and fire once it cleared the door. He hoped for a lucky shot. Reaching the doorway, Rye hurried the gun forward, turned it a bit more to the right, and fired. 

“AAAAAaaaargh you motherplucker!” the griffon cried in a high pitched voice.  

Rye smirked as he pulled his shotgun back to him. He could hear the griffon gagging in pain. 

“You bastard son of a bastard!” the griffon cursed in a screechy voice. 

“I think you did it,” Spyglass said as he looked at Rye. “Velvet, you okay?” 

“My magic is about gone and I don’t feel well,” she admitted. “Heaving that body took more out of me than I thought it would. Holding the invisibility spell was taxing. I am having an off day.” 

“Just hold on Velvet. We’re about done here I think. Once this bugger dies, I think Rye and I can finish clearing below decks. I doubt there is anybody else left down here,” Spyglass said reassuringly. 

There was a gurgling sound from the captain’s cabin followed by silence. 

“See anything?” Spyglass asked. 

“Just a large puddle of blood in the doorway,” Rye answered. “And it grows ever larger.” 

“I’ll go check,” Spyglass said. The pegasus was on his hooves in a second, carefully peered around the corner, and then slowly walked down the hall squeezed against the wall, trying to make himself less a target. He reached the room and carefully peered around the door frame. 

“Oh… oh my… oh that looks unpleasant,” Spyglass said. The pegasus, a hardened captain with many years of experience, gagged and turned away from what he saw. 

“What happened?” Bloody Velvet asked. 

“The griffon was shot in the groin. There are nails everywhere,” Spyglass replied. “Oh I can’t look at that, that’s ugly,” the pegasus said as he wiped his face with his wing. 

Rye felt a little queasy but also immensely proud of himself. 

“Oh what a mess. I need fresh air. Just when I thought I’d seen it all,” Spyglass muttered. “Velvet, let’s get you secured. I need some air. And a drink. Or three. Rye Mash… I don’t know what to say to you. I feel wrong praising you for what you have done. Ugh.” 

“Can I keep his guns?” Rye asked. 

The pegasus raised his head and peered down the hallway at Rye Mash, who was now visible, having stepped out from around the corner. The captain raised his eyebrow. “Most ponies in your situation would be inquiring about a share of the captains coin collection or his finery. You ask for his irons,” Spyglass stated.

Velvet stood on wobbling legs. “You can never be too good looking, too rich, or too well armed,” she said in a trembling voice. “And out of those three, I respect a pony who desires the last.” 

“Secure his firearms Mister Mash. If that is all you ask for, then I am happy to oblige you. Velvet, allow me to get you above decks. You do not look well my dear,” Spyglass said. “You did well Rye, I am impressed. I have an eye for talent and I knew when I saw you that you had a fierce spark of destiny about you,” Spyglass said to Rye as they stood together in the hall. 

Rye gave a nod and a grin to his captain. 

“I am going to get her comfortable. I will return as soon as I am able. Do not go exploring below the decks just yet. Secure the captain’s quarters. Once I have returned, you and I will finish poking our snoots around down here and we will secure the slave hold. Brace yourself, it is bound to be unpleasant,” Spyglass said. 

Rye nodded. “Yes sir. I will secure the captain’s quarters and stay put sir,” he acknowledged. 
	
	
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The griffon captain was quite a mess. Rye swallowed hard and tried not to think about what he had done. He immediately began to justify his actions, reminding himself mentally that the griffon was a slaver. The unicorn was a mess of nerves after combat. He jittered and shook as he stood in place, looking down at the corpse. He made himself look, as much as he didn’t want to. He had taken several lives today, and it was sinking into his mind that he had crossed a threshold. He had crossed some barrier and now there was no returning to how life was, back when he was innocent of things like killing. 

There were several guns. Two ornate pistols in a matched brace, both were a smaller bore than his current brace of pistols but Rye was confident that they would do well in a fight. They had longer barrels. There was a small strange looking pistol with four barrels and four triggers. The barrels weren’t very long and Rye doubted that it would be very accurate, but in close quarters, it held four shots and Rye guessed that all four triggers could be pulled at once. He liked it a great deal. It was practical and it gave him ideas as he studied the strange firearm. 

The last gun he collected was another shotgun. This one had a much shorter barrel than his own, and he remembered Bloody Velvet telling him about scatterguns when she had shown him how to load and fire his shotgun. Even though he was standing in the middle of a grim and bloody mess, Rye smiled when he claimed the scattergun. The barrel was short and cavernous, a gaping opening that would spit fire and shrapnel at whatever he didn’t like. 

“You should never talk to a lady the way you did,” Rye spat, scolding the dead griffon. 

Rye began to search the captain’s cabin carefully, looking around for anything that might be of use. There were lots of griffon stuff scattered about, things that required finger talons to be put to proper use, but Rye had a bit of magic to make up for not having opposable digits. He found a corkscrew and smiled, those were always useful. He plundered a cabinet full of firearms supplies. Always very very useful. He found ledgers and set those aside, certain that Captain Spyglass would want those. There was a pouch full of assorted coins made out of precious metals. He tossed those aside into a pile with the ledgers. 

He found a small silver flask which was sadly empty. In a small wooden box he found several bottles of liquor, which made him smile. The box sat upon a small wooden desk. Rye made himself focus once he began to ransack the desk. Lace Collar’s desk back home had several hidden compartments… hidden places under drawers and false bottoms and all manner of nooks to hide stuff. 

Rye began to check under each drawer, pulling them free of their resting places and checking the bottom. He checked the back area where the drawers slid into. The bottom drawer did not slide out, something held it in place. Rye smiled. He rapped his hoof on the drawer and heard a hollow sound coming from the bottom. He felt around with his magic and found a small latch, something that would have to be snagged with a claw… or by clever unicorn magic. The false bottom opened and there were a pile of papers and another ledger inside of it. 

Rye frowned when he saw the royal seal of House Avarice. There were several bills of sale for things like tea and other sundries. He saw mention of a spice plantation. His frown turned into a scowl. There was a commission to gather “labourers” for the plantation and the promise of payment upon delivery. 

The angry unicorn looked back at the dead griffon and snarled. Rye was tempted to shoot him again just to make himself feel better. What little regret he had over killing was fading away rapidly. 

Much to his dismay, he found no coded messages. He wasn’t sure why he had been hopeful for finding one, but he was disappointed that he had found none. He gathered up everything important and continued to search the cabin. 



 

The captain was impressed upon his return and now stood looking over various papers that Rye held for him. Rye had done well in giving the cabin a once over and had even found a secret stash. After a few quick peeks, everything was stuffed into a saddlebag and collected. 

The pair exited the room, walked down the hallway, and took the stairs down. They stood on a landing, cautiously looking around them. There were no signs of other griffons. The stench was strongest here. Rye stood on the landing as the captain went forward to examine a door. It was large and heavy, solidly built, and locked with a padlock. 

“Did you find a key?” Spyglass asked. 

Rye shook his head and cringed when the captain let go with a frightful string of expletives. Spyglass continued to curse for quite some time. 

“Captain, allow me,” Rye said. 

“Unicorn magic?” Spyglass inquired. 

“Maybe a little,” Rye answered. He pulled out his peppershaker, opened it, and measured out a bit of black powder. He poured it into the keyhole of the lock. “I’d stand back sir,” Rye warned, stepping back a good bit himself. 

Spyglass moved swiftly and was instantly halfway up the stairs. 

Rye, standing what he hoped was a safe distance away, touched the black powder with his mind, using a spell that he used to light candles. There was an explosive “BANG!” that made his ears ring and then there was piecing pain in one of his ears. He felt something wet and sticky running down the side of his face. 

Spyglass approached, looking concerned. “You have a hole in your ear,” he commented. 

Rye gritted his teeth together and did his best to ignore the pain. 

“This is why I went halfway up the stairs. Above the angle of travel for any projectiles. I hope you learned something,” Spyglass said patiently. 

Rye nodded. 

“The lock is gone. Good work,” Spyglass stated.

The pegasus moved towards the door and pushed it open. 

What was on the other side changed Rye Mash’s life forever. 



 

The stench was horrific. There were roughly two dozen or so zebras and a few ponies still alive, chained into cubbies. Some of them had died. Urine and feces covered everything. The survivors looked at the two ponies in the door hopefully, and there were pleading cries but no words. 

“We are not here to become your new masters,” Spyglass announced. “Please, I know you are suffering, but please be patient. Give us time to work and we will free you. I ask that you try not to cry or scream or plead and beg to be released, as you will all be released in time. We will work down the rows. Once you are freed, you will be taken above decks, carried if need be, you will be bathed, and then we will feed you. Again, I ask you to be patient. I know all of you have suffered greatly. We cannot free all of you all at once,” he explained. 

A few heads nodded, but most just lay still and continued to stare. 

Rye felt numbed. Any remaining regret he felt for killing today faded completely. He was completely overcome by the situation. 

“Mister Mash, I must ask of you to stay here and keep these poor souls company while I go and fetch some help. Try to remain strong. Be an inspiration for them. They need strong shoulders right now,” Spyglass said in a commanding voice that cut through Rye’s mental fog. 

Rye nodded in reply. 

“Water,” one of the zebras croaked. 

“Will be coming soon enough,” Spyglass promised as he backed out of the door and retreated up the stairs to get assistance. 

Rye stared at the zebras and the ponies all around him, and realised he was being stared at in return. They watched him, waiting, looking at him hopefully. Rye realised he was covered in blood and there was a fresh hole in his ear. He was bristling with guns. He wondered what he must look like to them. He smiled, thinking that a friendly smiling face might be just what they needed right now, and a young filly smiled back at him. Rye felt a little bit better after seeing the filly smile. 

“We want to go home,” a zebra cried out in a raspy dry voice. 

Rye said nothing and made no promises. He stood there, his smile now a strained one. He couldn’t understand how any this could be done to a sapient being. A painful memory bubbled in his brain, a memory of the sweeps and being taken from home with all of the others. 

At least they had not been packed into a ship like this. 

“I will let you have your way with me if you will just let me out, I promise I won’t fight back, I remember my lessons… I would never fight back,” a zebra filly offered in a raspy scratchy voice. 

“Sorry ma’am, I uh, I know that this is hard, but please wait. You will be let out. And you don’t need to offer your body in return,” Rye replied. 

“But I am a good slave, I know what is wanted from me,” she answered. 

Rye’s smile faded and the unicorn slumped. “Nopony is going to hurt you or do anything with you. I promise,” Rye said. He realised after he spoke that he was placing a lot of faith in Spyglass’ crew. He hoped that he would not be made a liar. “None of you are slaves any longer, my name is Rye Mash, and I give you my word and I swear on my good name that you are free,” he said in a loud clear voice. 

Spyglass returned and stepped through the door. With him were quite a few pegasi. 

“Rye, I will need your help releasing these poor souls. Afterwards, I want you to try and stitch some of my crew back together if you can. You’ve done well today, but the day is far from over,” Spyglass instructed. 

Rye nodded in acknowledgement and turned to begin his task. 



 

Rye slumped in exhaustion. He had been going non stop for hours. Releasing the slaves. Stitching up crew members. The learning curve was much higher than he expected, but his work had improved considerably after the first few attempts. His ear stung and he could feel the light breeze blowing through the hole. 

The slave ship was being towed, connected to the other vessel by strong chains. The slaves were on deck, many of them looking dazed. Most of them were silent. A few talked in low voices to one another. 

Beside him, Skeeter lay on the wooden deck. Rye felt that he had done a good job in stitching Skeeter’s face back together. Rye had shared in his friend’s agony, he had seen the look of fear and panic in the pegasus’ eyes as he worked. 

Rye’s coat was still damp. Pegasi had collected clouds and had used them as a shower. It had taken quite a bit of effort to get all of the blood out of Rye’s pelt. And it had taken even more effort to scrub the filth from the slaves. Many had helped, scrubbing with a hoof and trying to work the encrusted filth free. The deck had been sluiced afterwards. 

Rye heard the flutter of wings and the thump of hooves beside him. He was too tired to turn his head, but he knew that it was the captain. He prepared himself to rise. 

“Stay put,” Spyglass said as he approached. “You look bloody awful,” the captain muttered. “There has been a change in plans. We are still going to Trottingham, but we are going to take a bit of a detour to the Sea of Grass and take these zebra folk back home. The ponies captured were travelers from a few different countries. We’re still trying to figure out what to do for them,” Spyglass explained.

“I’d like to see the Sea of Grass,” Rye said weakly. 

“You did very well today, I am impressed. You went well above and beyond the call of duty. I need more unicorns,” Spyglass stated. “Magic is useful. Most unicorns would never choose this life though,” he commented. 

“I’m glad I did,” Rye said in reply. His voice sounded weary. 

“Skeeter, you also did well today. You lived. And that’s saying something. From now on, in future engagements, now that you have proven yourself, you are to be Mister Mash’s bodyguard. You will be responsible for his transport, getting him from one ship to another when we board. You are to remain at his side. You keep him alive, and he will keep you alive. Do you understand your new duties?” Spyglass said to the pegasus colt. 

Skeeter nodded but said nothing. He raised one wing weakly in salute. 

“Also, you will be joining Mister Mash when he eats. Consider yourself privileged. I want you two to trust one another. When you go on shore leave, I want you two to stick together. Have I made intentions clear?” the captain asked. 

Skeeter nodded again and Rye also gave a nod. 

“Good, because I will not always be able to foalsit my cabin colt and I need to know that he is looked after,” Spyglass said as he sat down. He turned his gaze towards the freed slaves. “Look at them. Poor wretches. They’re free. Do you hear them celebrating? Do you hear them laughing? They’re broken. And they’re going to be that way for a long time,” the pegasus mused. 

“Does Skeeter get a pay raise for looking after me?” Rye asked. 

Spyglass whipped his head around and glared at the unicorn, raising his eyebrow. His wings flared outwards a bit. His nostrils flared and his ears perked forwards. 

“It is a concern,” Rye explained. “I was in a gun battle today. I went into some very dangerous situations. Skeeter doesn’t have a means to handle firearms. All he has are his hooves. If he is intended to take a bullet for me, I think it is fair to pay him a bit more for due to that expectation.” 

Spyglass’ expression softened. “I will see that he gets a few extra coins for his service,” Spyglass muttered. “And you are well on your way of becoming quite the mercenary Rye Mash,” he added. His face broke into a grin. “And I suspect that Skeeter will be all the more loyal to you after what you said.” 

“Is Velvet okay?” Rye asked, changing the subject. 

“She will be. She had an off day. Some days, she can cast spells almost endlessly and remain strong all day long. Other days, well, other days are more like today,” Spyglass replied. “Which is why I needed you. Magic makes things so much easier.” 
	
	
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	As they made their way towards the Sea of Grass, several more zebras and a pony died. It bothered Rye Mash a great deal. They had been rescued. They had been fed. They had been looked after. And they had still died. The past few days were stressful on the young unicorn. 

He was rapidly coming to terms with being a killer. His feelings fluctuated, at times feeling a twinge of pain over what he had done, and at other times, he seethed with silent rage as he watched the slaves continue to suffer, even after their captors were gone. 

Male griffons had barbed penises, as was common to most feline species, and they left behind terrible wounds upon their rape victims. Many of the slaves, both male and female, suffered from these horrific wounds. It was an all to easy way to break their spirits. 

The griffon ship was being towed behind them, and the crew had gone over it from top to bottom several times. Several hidden compartments had been found. A cache of gold and silver bars had been discovered in a hidden cubby. 

The ship had also become a morgue, with several zebra bodies stored on board. The survivors wanted their fallen kin brought home. 

The unicorn felt a great deal of excitement knowing that he would soon see the Sea of Grass. 



 

“Well be in the city of Tradewinds soon.” 

Rye Mash turned to look at Bloody Velvet. She didn’t look well. One leg trembled non stop, forcing her to stand on three legs because she could not place any weight on the trembling leg. 

“Tradewinds is a nice little port city. Full of zebras and ponies. Quite a few unicorns there and there is a school for magic. Ships stop there to take on fresh water and supplies, and one of the major roads across the Sea of Grass begins in Tradewinds. Hopefully, the zebras we drop off there will make it home. We’ve also decided to drop off the imprisoned crew there. We’ll no longer be taking them with us when we go to Trottingham,” Velvet said, the corner of her mouth jerking as she spoke. 

“Sounds like a nice place,” Rye commented. 

“I’ll be getting you a spellbook,” Velvet announced. “Free of charge. Consider it a gift, for defending my honour and preserving my dignity as a lady,” she explained. 

Rye blushed. “I was just doing the right thing,” he muttered. 

“Which is why I am doing this to say thank you. I have lived among scoundrels for too long, it was nice to see some gentility again,” Velvet stated in a soft voice. “So, dealing with the boredom?” 

“I suppose,” Rye replied. “One day I was fighting for my life, and then things far less exciting happened.” 

Velvet laughed. 

“One of the freed slaves asked for me to marry her…” Rye admitted in a low voice. “I felt bad for her. She’s worried that she will be taken as a slave again. Little earth pony lass. Not much she can do to defend herself I suppose. She cried her eyes out when I told her no.” 

“It happens all of the time,” Velvet said. “They get taken as slaves, they get beaten a few times or worse, and then they want to marry the first decent stallion they meet after rescue. The crewmembers get proposals all of the time. Some of them even accept and settle down with a nice mare that spends the rest of her life showing them her gratitude. I suppose it is a happy ending. Of sorts anyway. Marriage is an awful institution.” 

Rye pondered Velvet’s words and could not come up with any sort of reply. He fell silent and stared out over the rail. The whole conversation made him feel uncomfortable, but he could not say why. 

“So how did you know what I was thinking?” Rye asked, finally getting up the courage to do so and hoping to change the subject. 

Velvet sighed. “Come on, don’t make me explain it,’ she groaned in annoyance. 

“I am actually ignorant about the subject, I’d like to know,” Rye replied. 

Velvet gave Rye a sour look. “You might have noticed my mark… A big black starburst surrounded by a few smaller silver stars. I have no idea what it means, but it showed up after I learned that I could occasionally peek into other ponies minds. I can also traverse the astral plane. This is how I accidentally discovered Celestia’s personal pocket plane,” Velvet explained. “More of curse than anything. Sometimes I see the worst things. Like the thoughts of certain stallions and the things they want to do to me.” 

Rye bit his lip. 

“Look, I know that you find me attractive. I know that you find me very very attractive. But I also know that you do everything you can to think of me in a respectful manner,” Velvet said, now staring out into the distance herself, unable to look at Rye directly. “Very difficult to be friends with anypony that tries to say one thing but thinks another. I don’t want to tell you more about me and how I work because it will only complicate things between us and we need to have a professional working relationship.” 

Rye heard hoofsteps behind him, turned, and saw Skeeter. His face was still swollen and the area around the stitches looked puffy and tight. His mouth was far too swollen to try and talk. 

“Skeeter, you feeling alright?” Rye asked. 

The pegasus nodded slowly. 

“Able to eat? Get some soup down?” Rye inquired. 

Skeeter shrugged. 

“You need to eat if you want to heal,” Rye said in a worried voice. 

“Really good of you to stitch him up like that,” Velvet remarked. “Going to leave one remarkable scar, but will still be better than leaving the wound as it was,” she added.

“Have you tried turning your head off to one side to keep your soup away from your stitched cheek?” Rye asked. 

Skeeter’s eyes widened and he shook his head no. 

“Skeeter, I worry about you sometimes,” Rye muttered. 

“Pegasi. Part bird, part pony, head full of clouds,” Velvet quipped. 

Skeeter looked at the unicorn and blinked. 

Velvet’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together in a tight line. She said nothing, but Rye assumed that she was aware of something Skeeter was thinking. 

“Look, I don’t want my two friends fighting,” Rye insisted as he stepped in between the two of them. He gave Velvet a pleading look. “And you shouldn’t make fun of pegasi or earth ponies… you wouldn’t want them making fun of you as a unicorn, seeing as how you have the shivers and all.” 

Velvet relaxed her stance and Rye took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a gasp. 

“I remember my mama,” Rye said in a low voice. “But only just barely. She was a pegasus. I remember her covering me with her wing and I felt so safe. I remember when I was taken… she put up a fight. She didn’t want her foal taken. They… she…” the colt fell silent. 

“I’m sorry,” Velvet said. “The sweeps are ugly business. And I suppose I shouldn’t make fun of pegasi.” 

Skeeter nodded, touched his friend with a wing, and Rye found himself feeling a bit better. 

“Would you like to go home Rye? Occasionally, we stop by the Shetlands,” Velvet offered. 

“I don’t know. Part of me does. I’d love to go home. The other part of me never wants to plant my hooves there ever again,” Rye confessed. 

“If you don’t know what to do, make this ship your home. I have, and I think I am better for it,” Velvet suggested. 



 

Tradewinds rose up in the distance as they drifted downwards. They had made good time, a strong tailwind behind them, and the crew was excited. It looked as though much of Tradewinds was made of shaped stone, which was the favoured method of unicorn construction. There were several towers that loomed over the city. There was a harbour for ships and Rye could see several airships moored to a squat tower. 

There was a lighthouse that stood at the entrance to the harbour, but it wasn’t any old lighthouse. It was giant stone unicorn and a faint light could be seen shining from its horn. At night, it was probably an impressive sight. 

This was a city of equines, and it had endured for countless centuries, even with griffon and the occasional minotaur aggression. Velvet called it “the gateway to Equestria” because a lot of refugees from the Sea of Grass secured passage here and traveled to the new land. Trade ships also headed north, to griffon territories, south to the minotaurs, and further east into the Sea of Grass, past the sea of grass was the Forevergreen Jungles. 

As Rye watched the city loom closer, he was jostled by another pony. He turned to say something, to offer a polite exchange, and saw the largest pony he had ever seen, other than Princess Celestia. 

“Sorry bout that, I didn’t see you down there,” the giant said sheepishly. 

“It is okay… you are a big pony,” Rye commented, looking upwards. 

The stallion was large, had a red coloured pelt, and was made from muscle. His mark was a basket of apples and his mane was the colour of autumn wheat. His hooves had to be as large as Rye’s head. 

“My name is Crab. Crab Apple,” the stallion offered. 

“Pleased to meet you, I am Rye Mash,” Rye replied politely. Manners were important in a world full of large things that could crush you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before on deck.” 

Crab grinned sheepishly. “I stay below decks to avoid trouble. I’m signed on as crew, but I don’t fight. Fighting is wrong. I’m a porter. When we dock, I’ll be loaded down with cargo and I will move some stuff off of the ship and then move stuff onto the ship, and then I’ll stay aboard the ship because I don’t want to waste my money,” Crab explained. 

“Saving up for something?” Rye inquired. 

“Back home in Equestria, my family just settled in a new town called Ponyville. I took on a job to get us some money. We’re poor, but we’re honest. And I wanted to make sure that we would never have to worry about money again so we could focus on farming,” Crab answered. 

“Farming is a good honest life,” Rye said appreciatively. “We all need to eat,” he added as he looked upwards. Crab was smiling down at him and Rye hoped that he had made a new friend. 

“Ah, Mister Mash, I see you have met our gentle giant Crab. I should have known that you two would get along with one another,” Spyglass said as he approached the pair. 

“Sir,” Crab said to his captain with a bow of his head. 

“We’ll be docking soonish. A few words of warning if I may. Don’t pick fights, not that you would. The school here sends out its students to police the town. Ponies and other beings trade here because it is safe to do so. If you disrupt the peace, bad things will happen. That said, keep your firearms and your wits about you. There are others foolish enough and desperate enough to try things like robbery, and you will need to deal with them until the local constables arrive. Oh, and you will want this,” Spyglass said as he tossed a small sack at Rye with his wing. 

Rye caught the sack with his magic and hefted it. It clanked and felt heavy. He secured it in a pouch that hung from his harness. 

“A bit of a bonus in there for good work and stepping in as the ship’s medic. All pay is based on merit. If you want more, do more. Unlike other captains, I actually pay my crew when they do things outside of their normal scope of duties. Isn’t that right Mister Apple?” Spyglass stated. 

“Yes sir,” Crab replied. “I get paid very well for being one of the guards who keeps an eye on the ship when we are in port,” the stallion said with a smile. 

“Be careful Rye. Keep Skeeter close. Speaking of which, where is he?” Spyglass asked as he looked around. 

“I don’t think he’s well sir. He was hot and his face is swollen. Last I saw him, he was in his hammock. He just wanted to sleep sir,” Rye answered. 

Spyglass looked concerned. “Mister Mash, Crab, I must ask that both of you come with me. I might need you,” Spyglass ordered. 

The captain turned and went off towards the door that led below decks, and both Crab and Rye followed after him. 



 

The sleeping quarter that Rye moved through held sixteen ponies, eight on each side of a divider, and Skeeter’s bunk was in the rear corner. Spyglass moved to the pegasus’ hammock and prodded the sleeper gently.

“Skeeter?” Spyglass asked. 

The pegasus opened his eyes. They were glassy. Spyglass peered at the younger pegasus. “You don’t look well. Forgive me,” Spyglass asked. With a quick sudden movement, he placed a hoof against Skeeter’s sundered cheek and applied pressure, which made Skeeter scream bloody murder. 

As the captain pulled his hoof away, a dribble of pus oozed from the wound. It had a greenish yellow tint. “Oh bugger,” the captain hissed. He leaned in and sniffed. His face contorted in disgust and he touched the whimpering pegasus with one wing gently. 

“New plan. Once we dock, Crab, I am going to need you to carry our friend here to a healer. I know of one. Not too far from the docks. You can return to the ship and perform your duties as a porter afterwards. Rye, you are to stay with Skeeter. I will go with you and pay for the healer, but I cannot stay. There are matters here that I must attend. A captain is only as good as his crew, and one of mine is sick. 

“I didn’t know it was this bad sir,” Rye said guiltily. “I helped him eat just this morning. He didn’t have much of an appetite. He just wanted to lay down and get some sleep. I thought the rest would do him good.” 

“Rye, you didn’t know… calm yourself. I do not blame you. Rot happens,” Spyglass said in a low voice full of concern. “Come on, let’s get him secured over Crab’s back.” 

Rye looked at the hammocks all around him and then looked up at Crab, who had to duck his head in the tight quarters. “Forgive me for asking, but how do you sleep in a hammock?” Rye inquired as he moved to help Spyglass move Skeeter. 

“I don’t,” Crab replied. “I sleep on a cargo net.” 
	
	
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The city of Tradewinds was somehow even more impressive than Canterlot. The towers of Canterlot were tall and straight. Tradewinds was bulbous. Round protrusions extended from the stone towers, individual little homes that all shared a tower to conserve space, Spyglass had explained as they walked. There were open air markets and all manner of beings could be seen. Ponies of all tribes, griffons, minotaurs, zebras, Rye saw a strange snake like creature with an odd head that Spyglass called a “naga” and so many others. 

There was entirely too much to take in and Rye felt overwhelmed. 

Crab didn’t seem to be doing much better. 

“I don’t like big cities… they spook me,” Crab admitted as he skittishly drew closer to Rye. 

“Just stay close Crab, I’ll keep you safe,” Rye said reassuringly. He noticed that Spyglass was looking at him as he spoke but he said nothing else. 

The group moved quickly through the streets, the crowds parting to make way for the massive earth pony. Crab had no idea that most of the residents were afraid of him, he was far too afraid of them to notice. More than anything, Crab wanted to bolt back to the ship where it was quiet and he could hear his own thoughts. 

“We’re almost there,” Spyglass said as he turned a corner and let the group down a dead end street. At the end of the street was a large squarish stone building that reeked strange smells. 

Spyglass pushed the door open and beckoned the others inside. 



 

“We can fix this,” a zebra said in a soft voice with a funny accent. 

“Who did the stitching? This is rather good work,” an earth pony commented. 

“Don’t be afraid, we will dull your pain,” a unicorn said soothingly to Skeeter, who was laying on a wooden table. 

“Rye here did the stitching,” Spyglass bragged in a prideful voice. 

“How long have you been doing this?” the earth pony inquired. 

“I, uh, well ma’am, I sort of learned to do it as I went that day,” Rye replied. 

The earth pony pursed her lips together and looked at the unicorn and then the zebra. The zebra gave a faint nod and the unicorn looked at Rye. 

“Would you like a job here? With us? We could make it worth your while… we will pay you… and we have other ways to compensate a handsome colt like you,” the earth pony purred as she advanced on Rye. 

Rye backed away from the forward earth pony until his backside hit the wall, the earth pony matching his every step and staying in his face. She brazenly kissed the unicorn colt on the cheek and Rye began to stammer wordlessly. 

“Rye, I do believe the lady made you a proposition,” Spyglass said in a flat neutral voice. 

“Uh, I am flattered, but my services are currently secured ma’am,” Rye squeaked. 

“Oh, that’s a real shame… we needed somepony who could stitch… and you could provide unicorn seed for our studies,” the earth pony said sadly. 

Rye turned a bright crimson and he thought he was going to swallow his tongue. Just when he thought it was safe to breathe again, the earth pony kissed his cheek once more. 

“Our offer remains open should you change your mind… or maybe we could just secure some of your seed?” the earth pony said in a searing hot whisper. 

“Oooh my miss… you are very straight forward,” Rye observed nervously. 

“I am an earth pony… I have no use for subtlety,” she replied in a breathy whisper on Rye’s cheek. “Just… hard plowing of my fertile field. I have a stone in the furrow that needs to be worked loose.” 

“I would be most grateful if you ignored me and looked after my friend. I am very worried about Skeeter,” Rye murmured nervously.  

The earth pony backed away and her demeanour changed. “This one is a tough nut to crack Spyglass. Where did you find him? I’m sorry, I gave it everything I had,” she said as she turned away in frustration and took her place beside the others around the table. 

“You… you…” Rye stammered as he pointed a hoof at Spyglass. “You were testing me!” 

“Well, my last cabin colt took them up on their offer, as did the one before, and several other potential hopefuls that I have added to my crew, hoping to add them in my inner circle,” Spyglass said with a shrug. “Some turned out okay, but most have had to go overboard,” the pegasus muttered. 

“Is Skeeter going to be okay?” Rye asked as he shuddered and shook himself, trying to ease his frustrated feelings. 

“He’ll be fine,” the unicorn said. “We need to drain his face though. He’s going under from the sleeping potion as we speak,” she reported. 

“You’re not into other colts are you? I mean, it is fine if you are, I am a very open minded pegasus and I am well ahead of how most others feel about this issue,” Spyglass inquired. “I believe in social progress!” 

“What? Wait… I… no! Look, Lace Collar kept making passes at me and I kept turning him away… I was always worried he was going to force me,” Rye said. He froze moments after the last words left his mouth when he realised what he had blurted out. 

“Rye, you have nothing to fear, those words will not leave this room. Will they Crab?” 

The big earth pony looked down at his captain. “My lips are sealed as always sir,” Crab responded. 

With a sigh of relief, Rye Mash settled into silence. He crossed the room, avoiding the brazen earth pony in the middle, and settled himself on a cushioned chair. The two ponies and the zebra were busy working their craft and there was a strange bitter smelling purple powder that wafted through the air above Skeeter. 

“These really are remarkable stitches,” the unicorn praised. “Spyglass, I hope you have done the honourable thing and paid the poor colt a few extra coins.” 

“Young Mister Mash is just as good at creating wounds as he is stitching them up. I paid him quite well, didn’t I Rye?” Spyglass answered reassuringly. 

“I have a very fat coin purse,” Rye agreed. 

“Don’t spend your coins securing comfort in the ale halls. There is an annoying case of the drip going around. You wouldn’t want to catch that,” the zebra warned. 

“The drip?” Rye asked. “Securing comfort?” 

“Securing the services of a common prostitute… and the drip is probably one of the many diseases you can catch around here,” Spyglass said in disgust. 

“My offer still stands. I am clean and willing,” the earth pony offered. 

“Oh no, for all I know, this is just part of the test, you just scratch your own itch,” Rye retorted. 

“Damnit,” the earth pony swore. “I was in the mood for a little hunt the radish,” she muttered. 

“I… uh, intriguing as it might be, I don’t even want to know what that means,” Rye said as he settled himself into the chair and made himself comfortable. 

“It means,” the zebra began helpfully. 

“That you shove your snoot into her fertile earth and root around until you find her radish,” the unicorn finished. 

“UGH I SAID I DIDN’T WANT TO KNOW!” Rye shouted as Spyglass began to guffaw. 

“I helped a filly find her radish,” Crab said shyly but with a hint of pride. 

“Oh?” Spyglass asked. “Who was the lucky filly?” 

“My cousin,” Crab said bashfully. 

“Egads,” Spyglass said dryly. He shuddered and flapped his wings as he stomped his hooves a few times. 

Crab seemed utterly oblivious to his captain’s discomfort and stood there smiling, his eyes closed, obviously enjoying a pleasant memory. “I’m gonna go home and marry her I think,” the stallion said dreamily. 

The unicorn stepped away from the table, went to a bookshelf, pulled down a book with wooden covers, and presented it to Rye. “Read this as you wait. Look at the diagrams. It will help you,” she said pleasantly before leaving Rye with the book and returning to the table to continue her work. 

The zebra was mashing something in a stone mortar with a hoof stained a brownish green and humming to herself as she worked. Whatever it was she was mashing smelled spicy and exotic. The earth pony was busy chewing on something and then spitting small pieces into the zebra’s mortar. 

“Earth pony saliva has been shown to have many useful properties,” the zebra said in conversational tones as she worked. “And pegasus spit is good for waterproofing,” she added. 

“What does unicorn spit do?” Rye asked. 

The zebra shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve studied it, but I haven’t yet discovered any results,” she admitted. 

“And unicorn seed?” Rye asked hesitantly. 

“Oh, I’ve found a use for that,” the zebra said cheerfully.

“I am not sure I want to know,” Rye said. 

“Spunk from different stallions have different sorts of properties,” the zebra explained, ignoring Rye’s concerns. “Earth pony seed can cause mares to go into season and become fertile with repeated rutting. Pegasi seed is very strange. I haven’t found a good use for it, but it does not freeze. I might mix it into a potion to see it will help the drinker resist cold magic,” the zebra said. 

“Potions?” Rye asked. 

“We sell them to the students and the locals all the time. We never tell them what goes into them. What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” the unicorn said sweetly. 

“Ugh,” gagged Rye. “So, uh, what about unicorn spunk?” he asked timidly. 

“Oh, it has strong aphrodisiac properties and we can brew a potion from it that, well, while it isn’t a love potion, it does have a way of relaxing the standards of any mare or stallion that drinks it and makes them very very excited and ready to go,” the earth pony said. 

“And you know this how?” Rye asked. 

“Oh, we get to experiment on students that do poorly, we also use mice, rats, and a number of other animals,” the unicorn said. 

“You know, somehow, I never did learn your names,” Rye said. 

“Oh, we do not usually give out our names,” the trio said as one. 

Rye felt a little creeped out by the reply, with all of them speaking at once. “I insist,” he said nervously. “Especially after the earth pony tried to seduce me.” 

“To know our names is to know suffering,” the three of them said in unison. 

“Crab, step outside if you will. Just outside the door and wait with me if you will,” Spyglass commanded. 

The big earth pony didn’t have to be told twice. He stepped outside the door and Spyglass followed with him.  The door closed behind them. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” they all asked in unison. 

Rye was scared now, but he felt that he had to know. Perhaps this was another test and Spyglass was still having a go at him. He swallowed, licked his lips nervously, and took a deep breath. “I would like to know your names ladies,” he said as calmly as possible. 

There were three sad sounding sighs from the mares. 

“I am Clotho,” the earth pony said. 

“I am Lachesis,” the zebra said. 

“And I am Atropos,” the unicorn announced. “But there are those who call me “Morta” instead,” she added cryptically. 

Clotho cleared her throat. “Tradewinds is a very peculiar place Mister Mash. This place has many travelers and traders of every sort pass through this city. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told just what sort of folk travel through here and do business here,” the earth pony said softly. 

“We already knew that you would pass your test,” Lachesis said. 

“And we knew that you would insist on knowing our names,” Atropos said. 

“You were born to suffer,” Clotho said sadly. 

“I refuse to believe that,” Rye said defiantly. 

The three mares all laughed. “You will be defiant until the very end,” the three said together. 

“Keep the book, you will need it after the choice that you have made,” Atropos said. 

“We knew you would, but we still hoped that you wouldn’t. Occasionally, there are those who steer their fate away for whatever reason. But you have embraced yours. Your mark suits you, death dealer,” Lachesis said in a sad voice. 

“Death dealer?” Rye asked nervously. 

“What else can come from a mark such as that? You are no agent of harmony. You are one of mine,” Atropos said in a chilling voice. 

“I don’t understand,” Rye said. “Is this a joke? Is Spyglass testing me?” he asked.

“This is no joke, but you are being tested,” Lachesis replied. 

“By who?” Rye asked. 

“By the Fates,” the three mares said together with a mad cackle. 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye Mash roamed the streets of Tradewinds, feeling confused and alone. Skeeter had returned to the ship with Crab and was no doubt safely secured away in his hammock. He looked much better. Spyglass had apparently vanished after stepping out of the door, leaving Crab all by himself to wait. 

He roamed the markets, thinking as he trotted, and mindful of any threats around him. He was well armed. Multiple pistols and two shotguns. He was aware of the stares of other equines as he moved through the crowd. He heard murmurs about his mark from various passersby. 

He smelled strange smells, saw strange ponies, and took in all of the differences all around him. He passed a stall where a zebra was selling what appeared to be roasted beetle grubs on a stick. Rye shied away from the stall but still relished the experience of seeing something new. He passed another stall where a zebra was pan roasting crickets over a fire. 

As he passed a narrow alleyway, a zebra mare lifted her tail as he passed by. He kept going, but had trouble tearing his eyes away. 

Smaller airships hovered over the street, tethered to towers and buildings, and it looked as though some where used as living spaces. Others were basically rowboats with gasbags and were used to carry passengers above the busy streets, away from the filth and the crowds. 

“You there!” 

Rye halted as a unicorn approached him. 

“Mercenary?” the unicorn asked. 

“Something like that. I am not offering my services. I am currently engaged,” Rye replied. 

“I need work,” the unicorn said. 

Rye smiled. Spyglass was looking for unicorns. “What made you think I was a mercenary?” Rye inquired politely. 

The unicorn shrugged and pointed at Rye’s mark. 

“Oh, well, I see. I guess maybe it is rather obvious,” Rye said. “You don’t mind serving on an airship?” he asked. 

The unicorn looked thoughtful for a moment and his muzzle scrunched. Finally, he shook his head no. “Would give me a chance to study,” the unicorn muttered. 

“What do you study?” Rye questioned. 

“Everything,” the unicorn replied. 

“Mind if I get your name? So that way, when I introduce you to Spyglass, I will have a name to give him?” Rye asked. 

“Starjammer,” the unicorn said absentmindedly. 

“Starjammer?” Rye said.

Starjammer nodded but said nothing. 

“You don’t say much, do you?” Rye asked. 

Starjammer shook his head no but said nothing in reply. 

“So where are you from?” Rye inquired politely. 

“Canterlot,” Starjammer answered. 

“I’m from there are well… do you have a house?” Rye asked. 

“Avarice,” Starjammer mumbled. 

Rye jerked his head back. “Oh,” he gasped. “That might be an issue.” 

“No issue,” Starjammer said. 

“It might be… House Avarice is sort of Spyglass’ sworn enemies I think,” Rye explained. 

“I’m a fugitive,” Starjammer said in mild annoyance. 

“A fugitive?” Rye asked. 

“Yes,” Starjammer replied. 

“What did you do?” Rye inquired curiously. 

“Patricide. Matricide. Fratricide,” Starjammer said casually. “In that order,” he added in what seemed like a loquacious burst of verbosity. 

“Oh… oh I see,” Rye gasped. “Might I ask why?” 

“Sure,” Starjammer answered. 

“Why?” Rye asked. 

“I felt like it,” Starjammer said. 

“I see,” Rye said. “So, uh, any reason why you felt like it?” 

“Slavery rubs me wrong,” Starjammer groused. 

“Uh, well then. I think Spyglass will be happy to meet you. I’ll, uh, save you the trouble of having to talk to him and I will just tell him all of this if that is alright with you,” Rye offered. 

Starjammer nodded with said nothing in reply. 

“So, do you have any gear that needs to be gathered or luggage?” Rye inquired. 

The other unicorn shook his head no. 

“I am going to continue to explore the city for a bit. I’ll be heading back eventually. Don’t mind a bit of poking around do you?” Rye asked. 

Starjammer shrugged noncommittally and said nothing. 

“Know where a gunsmith is?” Rye asked. 

Starjammer actually smiled for a moment as he nodded his head yes.



 

Rye stared at the guns on display. The shop was long and narrow, and various racks lined the walls. It stunk of black powder and gun oil. And Rye fell in love over and over with everything he saw. Pistols of all shapes and sizes. Rifles. Shotguns. There were crossbows too, but Rye had no interest in those. 

“A pony with a gun talent.” 

Rye turned and looked at the griffon speaking to him. 

“My name is Augustus,” the griffon said. “And you… you are going to be a good customer,” the griffon stated in a pleased sounding voice. 

“Nice shop,” Rye said politely. 

“Thanks,” Augustus replied. “You are well kitted out. I see some fine pistols.” 

Giving a nod in reply, Rye Mash continued to look at the various guns in the rack. He saw quite a number of double barreled pistols, but nothing quite like his four barreled pistol. 

“You know, I sell more than just guns in here,” Augustus announced. 

“Oh?” Rye inquired hopefully. 

The griffon reached down below a counter and pulled up a large book. “Gunsmithing. How to make guns. How to modify guns. Practical gun designs,” Augustus said as he set the book down on the counter. 

“How much?” Rye asked. “I have some different coins that I could pay you.” 

“I’ll grab a scale. Four measures worth of silver or one small measure worth of gold. Which is a steal really, I am practically giving this book away. I am hoping that you will be generous in return…” Augustus answered. 

“What do you want?” Rye questioned. 

“When you make something, I’d like a chance to study it,” the griffon said boldly. 

“I am not sure how I feel about that,” Rye said. 

“I’ll give you the book for free. With a mark like that, I know you’ll be coming up with something worthwhile,” Augustus stated. 

“That’s tempting,” Rye admitted. 

“Good trade,” Starjammer said. “Ideas. Worth more than gold.” 

Rye blinked at the unicorn’s outburst of words. 

“We’re trading ideas. I wrote this book. I’m giving you ideas. I am asking for a few in return,” Augustus said.

“Deal,” Rye answered. “Now, about that long barreled pistol with the telescope looking thing mounted on it, can you explain to me what that is?” 



 

The pair emerged from the shop a short time later and Rye had a new pistol tucked into his harness. Blackened ebony wood, blued metal barrel, and a brass scope. The pistol had a different barrel than the others Rye had, it had metal grooves that the griffon called “rifling” which would make the fired shot far more accurate. It also used a different bullet than the standard lead ball, this bullet was flat on one side and elongated a bit, making it look like an egg with a flat spot. 

The book was tucked away safely in a saddlebag. 

“Why guns?” Starjammer asked. 

“I don’t have a lot of magic,” Rye replied. “With a gun, I am a free pony. What I say matters. I am no longer a slave or a subject,” he explained. 

“Type two?” Starjammer inquired. 

Rye nodded. “Yes,” he stated. “You?”

“Three,” Starjammer replied. 

Both ponies ears perked as they heard a shriek in the distance, down in an dirty looking alleyway between two buildings. Rye began to move forward, and then felt a magical tug on him. 

“Better not,” Starjammer advised. 

“But somepony is being hurt,” Rye said frantically.

“Maybe,” Starjammer said. “Or trap.” 

“I’m going,” Rye said as pulled out a pistol. He couldn’t help but notice that Starjammer was rolling his eyes. Rye stomped forward and pulled out a second pistol, the matched brace that Velvet had given him. He turned around the corner of the alleyway, not sure what to expect. 

He heard Starjammer behind him as he charged down the shadowy alleyway, pistols drawn. There was another scream from up ahead a panicked shrill scream that made something deep within Rye come to life. 

It made him murderous. 

He lept over trash and filth, old fish bones, and broken shards of pottery. As he continued, approaching yet another corner where there was an alleyway intersecting an alleyway behind the buildings, he heard a wet meaty sounding thud. 

He came around the corner just in time to watch a griffon swinging a small filly around by her hind leg and her head approached the bricks with alarming speed. 

Inches before colliding with the wall again, the filly froze in midair. The griffon looked very startled. It was the last look he made as Rye Mash pulled both triggers simultaneously. Both shots connected and the griffon’s suddenly headless body was hurled backwards by the impact. 

“Nice shot,” Starjammer said succinctly. 

The filly remained in mid air and Starjammer pulled the filly to him. She was dazed and unresponsive. The unicorn began to look her over. She was a little unicorn. 

Rye took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He began to reload his pistols, and as he was doing so, there was several loud pops all around him as several more unicorns winked into existence. 

“We heard gunfire,” one of the unicorns announced. 

“Don’t move or face obliteration,” another unicorn warned. 

“That filly was just screaming and nopony helped her,” Rye said coldly, wondering how fast he could clear leather. 

“Fillies scream all the time. Gunfire is a bit more important,” one of the unicorns replied. 

“That griffon was swinging her into the wall,” Rye said, both guns now loaded. 

“Probably wanted her horn and magical organs,” one of the unicorns muttered. 

“Sick bastard,” another agreed. 

“There is a thriving black market trade,” yet another explained. 

“So am I in trouble?” Rye asked. He counted six unicorns. He cast a glance at Starjammer. 

“Everything seems pretty cut and dry here. Dead griffon, some worthless orphan, two do-gooders. I’m going to leave this be. Reporting this would be too much paperwork,” a unicorn said in annoyance. 

“I saw nothing,” another agreed. 

“Please sir, no more accidental discharges within the city. Accidents happen, but be more careful in the future,” a unicorn warned. 

“Wait, what of the orphan?” Rye asked. 

“Leave her,” the unicorn suggested before winking away. 

The others also winked away, until they were all gone, leaving Rye and Starjammer alone in the alley. The pair looked at one another and Rye kept his guns out and at the ready. He didn’t feel comfortable in the alley. 

“What do we do?” Rye asked of his companion. 

Starjammer shrugged and began to walk away with the filly held in his magic. 

“Yeah, right, getting out of the alley is probably wise,” Rye said. “Wait, I actually know a few healers.” 



 

“Been busy,” Clotho muttered. 

“We can help the foal,” Atropos offered. “Not her time anyway,” she grumbled. 

“Interesting companion,” Lachesis muttered, looking at Starjammer as she spoke. 

“Funny that both of you should meet,” Clotho said as she gently prodded the foal. 

“Little one? Can you hear me? Atropos inquired. 

The foal squirmed but seemed unconscious. 

“Missing an eye already, how sad,” Lachesis said. 

“We can’t heal that,” Clotho stated. 

The zebra, the earth pony, and the unicorn went to work, each one doing their part. The unicorn stitched carefully, sewing back a flap of scalp that had split open. The others were mashing up something in a mortar together. The foal made a couple of muffled cries even though she appeared to be unconscious. 

“What is this going to cost me?” Rye asked. 

“One day we will call in your debt,” Atropos answered.

“Some sick bastard was going to cut off her horn and sell it. Her magical bits too. Please tell me that you fine ladies would never engage in such a trade,” Rye said, seeking reassurance. 

“We take only what is offered freely,” Clotho stated. 

“I don’t know what to do with the filly,” Rye said to the three mares. “She’s an orphan. I’d feel bad just dumping her back out on the street after all of this,” he stated. 

“Why? She’s an orphan. And there are hundreds just like her on the streets outside. Why bother saving just one?” Lachesis inquired as she smashed something with her hoof. 

“That’s a good question, I don’t have an answer,” Rye answered. 

“She’s mine,” Starjammer announced. 

“What?” Rye asked. 

“Apprentice,” Starjammer muttered. 

“I don’t know how Spyglass might feel about that,” Rye stated. 

“She will make you a fine apprentice,” Atropos announced. 

“In a little while, she should wake up. Meanwhile, who wants tea?” Clotho inquired. 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Moving through the crowds with caution, Rye Mash was in the process of returning to where The Whalefish was moored. Behind him was Starjammer, who was carrying the unicorn filly in his magic. Rye was slightly worried about bringing a filly on board a ship full of lonesome crewmembers. Bloody Velvet managed just fine, but Bloody Velvet was Bloody Velvet. 

Behind him, he heard a soft cry. He stopped, turned, and found himself snoot to snoot with the filly, who was still floating. She opened her remaining eye groggily and looked at Rye Mash. The pair studied one another for a moment. 

“Don’t scream or shout,” Rye said in a gentle voice. “Neither one of us want to harm you. We saved you. Do you have a name?” 

Squirming midair, the filly rubbed her head with her front hooves. Rye quickly pulled her hooves away from her bandages and stitches, using a little tweak of magic. The filly was a dirty disheveled grey colour with a pink mane. 

“Can you hear me?” Rye asked, now concerned. 

“My name is Woe Betide,” the filly squeaked, still holding her head. 

Blinking, Rye had trouble believing that anypony could be named ‘Woe Betide’ and he studied the filly carefully. He reached out and gently patted her on the shoulder. “Who named you Woe Betide?” he inquired.

“I was stealing from a shopkeeper. He named me. He said ‘Woe Betide you, you little thief’ as I was running away,” the filly explained. 

A wry smile crossed over Rye Mash’s face, and he looked over at Starjammer, who was also grinning broadly. “I see,” Rye Mash remarked. “What a fitting name.” 

“I have to steal stuff if I want to eat,” Woe Betide confessed. “Everything hurts,” she whimpered. 

“I know, I’m sorry… we saved you. Starjammer here wants to take you on as his apprentice. We were going to get you away from this horrible place,” Rye Mash said, trying to fill the filly in on what they were doing. 

“If you feed me I will do anything you ask,” Woe Betide offered. “You can even stick your pecker in my backside… just don’t tear me open too much or hurt me... you seem nice.” 

“WOAH slow down, now I ain’t about to do that,” Rye said as he backed away from Woe Betide and then raised a hoof. “Do you do that often?” 

“Well, no, I’ve never done it at all, but you’ve been so nice and I’m guessing you were the one who patched me up and you haven’t tried to cut off my horn or rape me, so I thought I’d offer it up willingly before it was taken violently. I know what stallions want… and I am really hungry, and you don’t seem like the type who would hurt me too much, and it is bound to happen eventually-” 

“No, no, no… just no,” Rye stammered, closing his eyes. 

“Does this mean I have to go hungry?” Woe questioned, giving Rye a pleading look. 

“Food,” Starjammer grunted. 

“Yes, we find a cafe or something before we head back to the ship and I will buy you some lunch and not bugger your backside in exchange,” Rye said, shaking his head in disgust. He gave Starjammer a pointed stare and felt relieved when he saw Starjammer’s muzzle crinkle in horror. At least he didn’t have to worry about the wizard doing anything untoward with the filly. “And if anypony else tries to bugger your backside, you let me know so I can kill them.” 

“You’re awfully nice,” Woe Betide remarked. “See, I knew it was safe to offer up my fillyhood to you.” 

Cringing, Rye shook his head. “Stop saying that!” 

“Sorry,” Woe offered. “I think I can walk,” she announced. 

Lowering the filly to the ground, Starjammer relaxed his will and let the filly go from his magical grasp. He reached out, tried to wipe some grime from her, and only managed to smear the greasy smudge even more across her pelt. 

“You need a bath,” Rye announced as he watched Starjammer work. 

“Aw, mister, don’t be mean,” Woe Betide whined. “You started off so nice.” 



 

Rye took a careful sip from his teacup and watched Woe Betide gobble her food. She made no effort to use silverware, she had no table manners, and other ponies and zebras stared from their tables. Right next to Rye’s saucer was a loaded pistol sitting on the table, a silent warning that Rye was not in the mood to be messed with. 

With his face hidden behind a book, Starjammer was also enjoying a cup of tea. 

“This is pleasant,” Rye said, realising that he wasn’t going to get much conversation from Starjammer and Woe Betide was too busy eating to say much. 

The filly had finished off the vegetables and was now chowing down on the rice and sauce that had been beneath the veggies. She slurped and licked her plate, barely chewed her food, and her whole face was covered in bits of vegetable and rice. 

Taking a bite of pie, Rye chewed thoughtfully as he watched Woe Betide. He swallowed, turned to meet the gaze of a unicorn mare clearing her throat repeatedly, narrowed his eyes at her, waited for her to fall silent, and then he went back to watching Woe Betide. He lifted his teacup and took a sip, washing down the remaining bits of pie lurking in his mouth. The pie was strange. It was filled with some kind of orange potato and it was sweet. Rye found he rather liked it. He sighed contentedly. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

Turning, Rye saw Spyglass. He lifted his teacup in salute and with a gesture of his hoof, invited his captain to sit down. Bringing the teacup to his lips, he took a sip. Rye watched Spyglass’ eyes drop down to the pistol sitting on the table and then dart back up, and Rye could feel the pegasus’ eyes peering into his own. 

At this moment, Woe Betide belched, slapping herself on her barrel. 

Raising an eyebrow, Spyglass looked at Woe Betide. “I see you’ve found a beautiful little damsel. Might I inquire what you are doing with her young Mister Mash?”

“Nothing untoward,” replied Rye, nearly dropping his teacup. 

“I offered to let him diddle my bottom and he told me no,” Woe Betide chirped. 

“I suspect there is a story here,” Spyglass stated, looking around the table. 

“Yeah but at no point in the story is there any part about rutting little fillies,” Rye Mash blurted out, setting his teacup down before he dropped it. 

“Mister Mash, please, relax. I trust you completely after our meeting with our mutual friends who shall remain nameless. Bloody Velvet tells me you are quite harmless,” Captain Spyglass said soothingly. 

“I met Starjammer here when I was prowling the city. He is willing to come on board as crew. He’s a wizard, a powerful one. He doesn’t say much so don’t bother asking him anything. We were looking around the city, I bought a new gun, has something called a ‘scope’ on it and it uses a different type of bullet, it is quite accurate… anyhow, we found Woe Betide being attacked by a griffon who was going to kill her and chop her up for her magical bits. We took her to our mutual friends who patched her up and now I owe them a favour. Starjammer wants to keep her as his apprentice,” Rye Mash summarised. 

“Hmm, I don’t know about having a filly on board,” Spyglass said in a low voice. “I suppose that she can stay with Bloody Velvet in her cabin. I am willing to take on Starjammer… you like him and that’s enough for me.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Rye Mash said, lifting his teacup and finishing it off in one single gulp. He looked around the table at the different ponies. 

“Woe Betide?” Spyglass inquired, looking at the filly. 

“Yeah?” Woe Betide replied, looking up at the pegasus. 

“What a curious name… you are cute as a button. I do believe that Bloody Velvet is going to like you,” Spyglass stated. “Can you do magic?” 

“I can pick locks,” Woe Betide replied in a conspiratorial whisper. 

“Fascinating,” Spyglass responded, now looking interested. He leaned close to the filly, his eyes narrowing as he did so, and his ears perked forward. “I bet you are a little sneak thief.” 

Shrugging, Woe Betide looked down at her food. “I’ve lived this long,” she muttered just before jamming her muzzle back down into the remains of her rice. 

“How would you like to be paid hard coin to be a little sneak thief?” Spyglass inquired. 

The unicorn filly froze mid bite. Her ears twitched and then she slowly lifted her head. She turned her head and faced the pegasus, her surviving eye narrowing. “I’m not that good just yet.” 

“But you will get better. And I will pay you to get better. I will even procure locks for you to practice upon so you can refine your technique if that is what it will take,” Spyglass offered in a smooth cajoling voice. 

“Good work if you can get it,” Starjammer said in an excessively verbose burst. 

Woe Betide looked over at Starjammer, who had set his book down. “You want me as your apprentice, even though you don’t know if I can do magic or not,” she said to Starjammer. She turned back to Spyglass and peered at him. “And you want me as a sneak thief. I can get food, money, and not have to have my backside buggered… am I dreaming? My head hurts, I must have hit it pretty hard.” 

“If any of my crew touch your backside, I will have them thrown overboard. Or let Rye kill them, should he be agreeable about doing so. I’m sure for a few extra coins, he most certainly would,” Spyglass said with a faint chuckle in his voice. 

The filly looked very confused and her gaze fell down upon her plate once again. She took a bite of rice, chewed thoughtfully, and then with an amazingly swift motion, she snatched Rye Mash’s half eaten slice of pie, gobbling it down before Rye could even protest. 

“You stole my pie,” Rye Mash protested. 

“Thief,” Woe Betide said after swallowing a few times.

“Eh, you were hungry. I’m not mad,” Rye muttered. 

“We should be getting back to the ship. I want to be going soon. Time is money. And little Woe Betide could use a bath,” Spyglass announced. 

“Aw shite,” Woe Betide swore, sulking in her seat. She resumed eating her rice while simultaneously pouting.  

“Oh, that reminds me, Starjammer is from House Avarice. I think he could be useful to us. He is a wanted criminal though… wanted for, uh, let’s see, patricide, matricide, and fratricide… in that order. He hates slavery,” Rye Mash mentioned, sounding slightly nervous. 

“Then we definitely need to leave the city at once,” Spyglass announced. “He’s the one they’ve been looking for and trying to poke around on the moored ships trying to find.” 

“I did bad things,” Starjammer admitted, not elaborating. 

“You must have,” Spyglass said. “There are actually Solar Guard in the city. We need to leave at once, and slip out before they come for another look.” 



 

The narrow corridor was empty save for Starjammer who stood beside Rye Mash. The pair of unicorns stood in front of Rye Mash’s door, and Rye Mash looked down the narrow hall to the next door over. 

“You have a tiny little cabin next to mine. We can be neighbors,” Rye Mash announced. “Look, I am actually rather tired after everything that happened. I’m going to go to sleep. I’m really happy I met you Starjammer.” 

Starjammer took a step closer to Rye Mash and looked his fellow unicorn in the eye. “Today was nice. I like adventure. And I like you,” Starjammer whispered. 

With a suddenness that Rye Mash did not expect, he felt two lips pressing into his own. He resisted for a moment, trying to pull away, but then found he didn’t want to pull away. Starjammer smelled spicy and different, and the other stallion's scent lingered cloyingly in Rye Mash’s nostrils as the kiss continued. He felt a foreleg snake around his neck and squeeze him. Searing heat crawled along his neck, up the back of his head, and his ears felt as though they would combust at any moment. He felt his lips open, and for a moment, a strange tongue licked him, probing around between his upper lip and his teeth, causing Rye Mash to shudder. 

And then, the kiss was over and he found himself staring breathlessly at Starjammer. 

“You kissed me,” Rye whispered. 

Nodding, Starjammer agreed silently. 

“But I like mares,” Rye retorted. 

Shrugging, Starjammer disagreed just a little bit, silently. 

“You… you… is this why you fled Canterlot?” Rye inquired. 

Sighing, Starjammer looked thoughtful. He licked his lips nervously. “They… well… my parents, they were going to have my mind fixed so I wouldn’t like stallions and mares, but just mares. There was an arranged wedding. Things were already strained between my parents, my siblings, and myself. I found out about the family business. When my father tried to have me collected by the doctors so I could be fixed, I killed them all. You have been the most wonderful companion… you… I found you very attractive and I am grateful to be alive and in the company of a most handsome rogue such as yourself.” 

Stunned, Rye Mash couldn’t believe all of the words he had just heard spilling out of his companion. And the words themselves disturbed him. He squirmed and looked Starjammer in the eye. “How did you know?” 

“About you?” Starjammer questioned in reply. 

“Yes, I mean, that I wouldn’t kill you or something,” Rye murmured in a low voice. 

“I didn’t know. I just hoped. But now, I do know,” Starjammer answered with a wink. He turned tail and headed off for his cabin, slapping Rye Mash across the cheek with his tail. 

“I feel very confused,” Rye Mash muttered as he watched Starjammer disappear. 
	
> Chapter 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The night was purple and the clouds were silver. The Whalefish drifted through clouds and fog, moving through the endless sea of sky. Tradewinds was behind them and Rye Mash had no idea what was ahead of them. Their end destination was Trottingham but Rye knew that anything could happen between here and there. 

Rye Mash came to the conclusion that he knew very little. 

He didn’t know how to act but he had been managing so far. Rye had been valued as a servant for his quick wit and his ability to adapt to almost any situation. His knack for rapid adjustment was still serving him well. The present situation was bearable; all Rye needed to do was just be himself. 

Only Rye Mash wasn’t sure he knew who he was anymore. 

The future was uncertain now in so many ways. The confusing kiss with Starjammer was proof of that. It lingered on his mind as he stood on the rear deck staring off into the grey expanse of clouds. 

“Well, you certainly have made my life interesting.” 

The sound of Bloody Velvet’s voice startled Rye and he felt his whole body tense. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. At least Bloody Velvet was smiling. 

“I got her bathed and the dirty little foul mouthed filly is finally asleep. She’s smart… I like her… and I can’t believe that Spyglass allowed her on the ship.” 

The clouds opened up just long enough for a few stars to wink through and then they were gone once more. Rye sighed, not sure if he liked being stuck in the clouds. He turned to look at Velvet and saw her trembling. 

“Our dirty little grey filly is actually white. Oh don’t look so surprised… anyhow, Starjammer better share. I wouldn’t mind having an apprentice either,” Velvet said. 

At the mention of Starjammer’s name, Rye felt his cheeks warm. It was time to change the subject. “How is Skeeter? I checked on him earlier but he was still asleep.” 

“Still asleep,” Velvet replied. 

Rye wasn’t sure what he expected, but he felt disappointed. 

“So you’ve seen Tradewinds and from what I understand, you had a bit of an adventure,” Velvet said as she sat down upon the deck. She looked over at Rye Mash and watched his straw coloured mane blowing in the gusting wind. The deck lights flickered and threw shadows over Rye’s grey-brown pelt. “You know, I can see why Starjammer finds you handsome.” 

Cringing, Rye turned away from Velvet. “He told you…” 

Velvet chuckled. “He didn’t tell me. I just know. Remember, there is no keeping secrets from me. Don’t worry, I have no plans to tease you. He also finds me attractive… and truth be told, there is something about him that I like.” 

For a moment, Rye wanted to throw himself over the deck rail. 

“I’m betting that the kiss was confusing,” Velvet said. 

Rye could not help but notice that Velvet was speaking to him as though she was his mother. It made his cheeks burn even hotter. He wanted to be anywhere but here. 

“Look, Rye, you feel confused and a bit disgusted because of Lace Collar and his propositions. Starjammer is a much better pony—” 

Unable to hold back, Rye Mash blurted out, “This isn’t fair, you being in my head like this!” 

Bloody Velvet, all too aware of what Rye was feeling, felt a pang of guilt for intruding into his private feelings. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should go.” 

As Bloody Velvet took to her hooves, Rye let out an anxious gasp. “No, you don’t have to go… all of is very confusing for me. Which is why I was out here. I can’t sleep.” He watched as Bloody Velvet sat back down and he was certain that he could feel her piercing stare boring into his soul. “Yes, Lace Collar said things to me. Yes, it made me feel dirty and ashamed. No, I did not find him attractive. But…” 

“But you do find Starjammer a little attractive?” Velvet finished. 

“I don’t know… maybe?” Rye hoped that he was being honest with his answer. 

Velvet nodded. 

“Well, this is awkward.”

Once more, Velvet nodded. “This has been a hard day for you. You got a very confusing kiss…” Velvet paused and had to wait for a bad spasm to pass before she could continue. “And you had a filly invite you to diddle her backside.” 

Rye began to stammer, unable to form words, stuttering and spluttering, he failed to make any coherent response.  

“Woe Betide tells me that you were the very model of a gentlepony and that you even shared your pie with her. It makes me sad that I know that there are many stallions that would actually do that to a foal.” 

Still unable to speak, Rye Mash pressed his lips together into a straight line. 

“You have my trust Rye Mash… you have proven yourself to be a good pony. I am sorry for prying into your personal thoughts. It has been a long time since I’ve met a pony that I would rather have as a friend than an amiable acquaintance or accomplice.” 

“I just hope that I don’t let you down…” 



 

The Whalefish headed north and the crew remained wary. North was the Hinterlands and beyond that, Griffonholm. Dangerous territory for any ship to travel through, the risk was much higher for a ship crewed by equines. 

The crew was watchful and a patrol of pegasi flew alongside the ship. 

On the rear deck, the very place where Rye had learned to shoot, Woe Betide was getting her first lessons from Velvet and Starjammer. Rye was paying attention as well, knowing that there was a lot he could be and should be learning. As he listened, he broke down his new gun over and over, getting to know it well, gaining a feel for every inch of it. It was long, it was heavy, and Rye worried that the scope might be a bit too fragile. 

“Where are we going?” Woe Betide asked. 

Velvet sighed. “Trottingham.” 

“Why?” 

“Business.” 

“I don’t have business in Trottingham.” 

When Rye chortled, Velvet shot him a dirty look. 

“My horn hurts. I’d rather just watch the clouds as we go by,” Woe Betide said. 

“Come on now, this is rather simple. Just a bit of the basics. You have talent. You have skill. Wouldn’t it be nice to develop that?” Velvet asked. 

“I dunno… how come there is no clouds of black smoke coming out of the boat?” 

Rye heard another exasperated sigh from Velvet. 

“The boilers were upgraded to arcano-tech. Clouds of black smoke have a way of revealing your position,” Velvet said as she tried to give the curious and annoying filly a reason. “Now pay attention. You can pop locks which shows you have a fine degree of magical manipulation. That shows promise.” 

“Can I learn to use a pistol?” Woe Betide asked. 

Starjammer’s eyes narrowed and the unicorn stallion immediately turned to look at Rye. As he was doing this, Bloody Velvet also turned to look at Rye. At the same time, both smiled matching devious grins. 

Rye thought it was a little bit creepy. He began to understand that Bloody Velvet and Starjammer were two very different unicorns than he was. What he was seeing was manipulative and devious. Rye prefered the direct approach. For one very brief moment, he wondered if they were devious because they were nobles or just because they were clever. 

Still smiling a devious smile, Bloody Velvet leaned down and looked Woe Betide in the eye. “Using a pistol takes some magical skill. Rye Mash has to use his telekinesis to handle the gun. It takes fine manipulation to load his guns, clean them, and keep them in good repair.”

“Hmm…” Woe Betide paused and look thoughtful. “I suppose I can learn stuff so I could do that. So what do I do?” 

“To start off with, go over there and watch how Rye Mash disassembles and then reassembles his gun. He’s been doing it compulsively for at least three quarters of an hour now,” Bloody Velvet said as she gave Woe Betide a gentle nudge to get her moving. 

The filly moved with a slow gait; she almost seemed shy as she approached Rye Mash. She sat down in front of him and watched as the gun was reassembled, held aloft in Rye Mash’s telekinesis. 

“Rye Mash doesn’t have a lot of magic. But as you can see, when he is working with a gun, his talent manifests itself. If one observes him at work, you can see that he is exhibiting fine control. This is probably due to his talent manifesting and giving him a little extra magic. Magic is a funny thing. Every day we learn a little more about magic through observation, but we will never know everything. The study of magic is the study of the unknown and making it knowable,” Velvet said in a clear patient voice. 

Rye Mash lifted up a small canister of gun grease, a salve that protected the wood on his guns. “Here, unscrew this lid.”

Taking the canister into her own magic, Woe held it up and looked at it with her remaining eye, which she had trouble keeping open due to all of the swelling. She had done this before. Reaching out with her mind, she turned the canister in one direction and the lid in another. There was a little squeal of metal from the cannister as it opened. There was a faint whiff of something almost like oranges, something she had never eaten but had smelled many times in the markets of Tradewinds. 

“Now put the lid back on,” Rye instructed. 

Woe Betide twisted the cannister back around and there was another faint squeak. 

“And that right there is the proof that you are at least a type two,” Bloody Velvet said. “You can move two different things in two different directions. I strongly suspect that you are a type three though, which is why I am eager to have you learn some magic.” 

Woe Betide twisted off the lid once more and then screwed it back on. “Magic is nice, but guns are neat.” 

Starjammer rolled his eyes but said nothing in reply. 

“Guns are neat and I use them occasionally. But bullets are no match for strong magic,” Bloody Velvet said in a soft patient voice. 

“Can you stop bullets?” Woe Betide asked. 

Bloody Velvet nodded. “Most of the time. Also, I can make my enemies not want to shoot me. With magic I can cloud their minds, put them to sleep, and sometimes even make them like me.” 

Woe Betide turned to look at Velvet. “Could I do that?” 

Velvet shrugged. “Maybe.” 

The little filly looked thoughtful as she screwed and unscrewed the cap on the cannister over and over. “So what do I do with this magic?” 

Velvet dropped her head down to be eye level with Woe Betide. “You use it to make a life for yourself. You use it so you can be free. So you don’t wind up as food or ingredients. With magic, you’d have work, and with work, you’ll have coin. With coin, you’ll have freedom. Or do you want to be a worthless sneak thief for the rest of your life?” 

The filly closed her eye. “I hadn’t thought about it… I’ve just tried to live long enough to see the next day. I steal what I have to and do what I need to do. It was either steal or sell my body and I chose stealing even though I know what they do to ponies that steal in Tradewinds.” 

“They brand you. And once you have that brand, you’re forced to remain a thief because nopony would ever employ you and you become stuck. Eventually, you go to prison and stay there, get killed, or you turn to prostitution.” 

Bloody Velvet’s words were cold and said without emotion or feeling. 

“Yeah,” Woe Betide said. The filly opened her eye and sighed. “I never thought about my future much. Wasn’t much to think about.” 

“You speak well enough. You seem smart. It is time for you to work towards the future you deserve.” Bloody Velvet’s eye began to blink in an erratic manner and the mare pulled her head back away from Woe Betide. 

“You okay?” Woe asked. 

“She has the Shivers,” Rye replied. “Just give her a moment.” 

“I’ll be fine, just leave me be…” 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The Whalefish drifted north with an almost painful slowness. They were near the Hinterlands now, and would soon be near griffon territories. The idea of being anywhere near the griffon homeland filled Rye Mash with dread. He was not looking forward to this leg of the trip… 

Except that he was. 

There was a part of him that wanted confrontation. He wanted to go into a fight with his guns blazing. He wanted to see how his new pistol would perform. He wanted to test his mettle and see how he did in another fight. He had ideas, good ideas, and he needed bodies in front of his guns to test these ideas. The only way to get better at gunfighting was to get into gunfights. 

It was troubling when your cutie mark indicated a future of extreme violence. 



 

Sensing trouble, Rye Mash stared at Bloody Velvet, who stood with her head held high in the wind, and looked as if she almost could see or hear something off in the distance. Captain Spyglass paced around the deck, looking nervous. Starjammer, being a calm and collected sort, was busy writing something in a thick tome while Woe Betide, sitting beside him, ate an apple. 

“Tell me Bloody Velvet, are we in for some excitement?” Captain Spyglass asked. 

“Four unicorns… strong magic. Very strong magic. But no feeling of skill or ability.” Bloody Velvet closed her eyes and stood still, a look of concentration upon her face. “How very odd. Only four unicorns. I sense no other minds. No pegasi. No earth ponies. Just four unicorns on an airship.” 

“Based upon your description, I’m thinking we have some Equestrian nobles. Maybe House Avarice themselves. But why would four of them be here, near the Hinterlands, with no crew? How are they sailing their ship?” Spyglass looked troubled and he turned to look at Rye Mash. 

“There is one way to find out,” Bloody Velvet said in a low voice, the corner of her mouth quivering up and down as the side of her face spasmed. “Captain, shall I give the order?” 

The pegasus nodded, a faint smile upon his face. 

“Come up hard and fast! Bring all guns to bear! I want this as bloodless as possible! We’ll scare them into surrender! Prepare a boarding party! Full power forward!” 

All around the deck, the crew burst into action and there was a lurch as The Whalefish sped forwards. The engines hummed and the airscrews that pushed the ship forwards turned fast enough to produce a faint buzzing scream. 

Rye Mash smiled. At least the boredom had ended and the day was now exciting. 

“Odd magical signatures! Electrical! Be warned!” Bloody Velvet’s warning was loud enough to be heard over the whole of the deck. Pegasi were lining up and making ready to board. The wind picked up as they gained speed. 

Starjammer looked up from his book for a moment, frowned, and then resumed his writing, looking very annoyed and put out. He shook his head and snorted. 

“Is there gonna be a fight?” Woe Betide’s eyes were wide and full of excitement. 

“Stay with Starjammer!” Bloody Velvet barked in reply. 

In the distance, a speck appeared, and it was growing larger as The Whalefish closed the gap. The forward guns were being readied. The tension in the air grew, it was a wonderful, dreadful feeling, and Rye Mash quite liked it. In moments, the strange ship was quite visible. It appeared to be about twenty five feet in length and had a smallish egg shaped gasbag with odd protrusions sticking out of the top. 

A single warning shot was fired as The Whalefish drew near. Nothing happened. The ship in the distance did not respond. And then, without warning, something did happen, as was the case in these sorts of encounters. A stream of lightning arced near the The Whalefish’s bow. 

“Pull back!” Spyglass commanded. 

The whole ship lurched and shuddered as it veered away from the strange craft. The Whalefish banked and blazed away, preserving the distance between itself and the strange vessel that seemed to be armed with cannons that shot lightning. 

“We have an advantage… the lightning will only shoot so far… fire one shot through their gasbag with one of our long guns!” Bloody Velvet commanded as she brought a shimmering shield up around herself. 

Meanwhile, Rye Mash was looking through the scope on his fancy new pistol. “There are four unicorns on deck. They'e smiling and laughing. I can see them! They’re laughing at us!” 

“I can’t stand smarmy bastards.” Spyglass’s wings fluttered at his sides. He squinted at the ship in the distance, scowling, and his furious expression became gleeful when the long gun fired. 

The cannonball went hurtling off, trailing smoke and fire, it flew threw the air in a graceful arc, heading right for the strange vessel’s gasbag. It stopped just short of its target and a shimmering golden shield flickered around the strange craft. 

“What in the name of Nightmare Moon’s stars?” Bloody Velvet shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. That is not a unicorn making that shield, be careful!” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to assess the situation. “If we want to hit harder and try to wear their shield down, we’ll have to get closer. If we get closer, we’ll be zapped by those lightning guns. Keep lobbing volleys of cannonfire and let’s see if we can wear them down from here.” 

With a snort of annoyance, Starjammer slammed his book shut and then it winked away in a flash of light. He stood up and trotted to the deck. He watched as the long guns were fired and several more cannonballs bounced into the strange vessel’s shields. 

“Stop.” Starjammer looked at Bloody Velvet. 

Bloody Velvet looked puzzled for a moment as she stared at Starjammer. And then, her face brightened into a wide grin. “Ceasefire!” 

After one final volley, the guns silenced their thunder. 

“Starjammer has a plan. Rye, we need you to draw a bead on one of the unicorns with your fancy new pistol. I hope your aim is true. I am going to shield our ship from the lightning guns as we rush them and Starjammer is going to pierce their shield. When we’re close and you see the shield flicker out, take your shot! Then we’re going to steam away and see what happens next.” 

“Sounds like a good plan! Let’s move!” Spyglass commanded. 

The Whalefish banked and angled towards the enemy vessel. Lightning streamed from little silver antennae mounted on the vessel. It crackled all around The Whalefish and caused Bloody Velvet’s shield to fizzle and crackle. 

They were close now, so very close, they were heading right for the small strange vessel and the enemy ship was now turning to avoid being hit broadside. As the vessel turned, The Whalefish came up alongside the craft, there was less than a hundred feet between them, and lightning surged from the wiggling silver antennae. 

Whatever was powering the lightning guns seemed to be wearing out already. Starjammer cast a spell, it flew towards the enemy ship and their shield came into view. It rippled, there was a loud buzzing sound, and then, the shield dropped, showering magical sparks down into the clouds below. 

Rye Mash fired his long rifled barrel pistol with the scope. One of the unicorns suffered from an explosive headache as everything from the neck up burst into a fine red mist. The other three looked quite startled and all of them bolted from the deck, running for the door that led belowdecks. 

The Whalefish angled away and began to put distance between the two crafts. Rye Mash began to reload his pistol. Bloody Velvet’s shield held against the lightning, but showed signs of failing. 

As The Whalefish pulled away, the lightning guns ceased to fire, shooting sparks and feeble arcs of electricity, but not the concentrated streams of electric death. It seemed as though the ship was running low on power. 

“Get a boarding party! I do not want this vessel damaged… whatever this is, it is important!” Spyglass unfurled his wings and took to the air. A group of pegasi took wing with him. 

A moment later, Rye Mash felt himself being snatched up and carried into the air. 

Now airborne, he could see the enemy vessel and he could see the scales that were the symbol of House Avarice. The flag fluttered beneath the gasbag and hung above the deck. There were no shields, no electricity left in the strange new guns, the ship was helpless. 

When Rye Mash’s hooves touched the deck, he drew his main pair of pistols. He took aim when he saw the door open, but did not fire. A lone stallion came out, his eyes wide with terror. Rye Mash approached and Spyglass drew near as well. 

“I surrender!” the stallion said. “My fellows are dying if not dead… they are drinking poison!” 

“So you are a coward.” Spyglass snorted in disgust. “Tell me, coward, what is your name?” 

The stallion dropped his head and looked fearful as he was surrounded. “My name is Buckminster Belvedere Bitters, Destrier of House Bitters, Scion of the Plat—”

“Oh that’s enough of that, I asked for your name, coward,” Spyglass spat. “Tell me, what are you doing here?” 

The very nervous Buckminster Belvedere Bitters rubbed one foreleg against the other and looked all around him, his eyes wide with terror as he saw all the pegasi closing him in. He drew in one frightened shuddering breath, held it for a moment, and then looked at Spyglass. 

“Last chance. Tell me or we shall test your unicorn superiority by throwing you over the rail. If you can command gravity to let you live, that will be quite a feat.” Spyglass’s lip curled back from his teeth in a sneer. 

“I was sent here to negotiate with an outpost in the Hinterlands. We have contacts there. There have been too many foals born on the Shetlands and there are far too many to take in on the mainland, so we were looking to sell the surplus mud pony foals to the minotaurs and the diamond dogs.” The unicorn let out a frightened whimper and his ears drooped down to the sides of his face. 

“And what of this ship?” Bloody Velvet asked as she stepped forwards. 

Rye Mash smiled and hoped that the stallion would try lying to Bloody Velvet. 

“This ship is The Apogee. It is an experimental vessel constructed in the House Bitters shipyards. It has high levels of automation, experimental weaponry, and we, uh, borrowed it for our trip.” 

“House Bitters. One of the top houses within Avarice. You Bitters ponies have some of the purest and most undiluted bloodlines in all of Canterlot. Took a lot of incest to stay that way, didn’t it?” Bloody Velvet let out a scathing chuckle. “House Bitters… the House of Madponies.” 

Buckminster cringed away from Bloody Velvet and kept his head low. “I just want to live. Please, I have foals at home and a thriving business and I just—” 

“Cease talking this instant or I shall have Mister Mash shoot you in the leg!” Spyglass commanded. “Tell me, do you have records of your contacts? Information about them?” 

“Yes sir, in my quarters I have detailed communications with our contacts and I have kept all of our correspondence. I have ledgers containing our products and detailed information about our drop and collection points.” 

Spyglass’ eyes narrowed and he looked at the captive unicorn. “Ponies are not products. Flesh is not a commodity.” The pegasus shook his head. “So you have detailed information that I would be interested in, and it is just below, in your quarters?” 

“Yes sir… I have surrendered… I have cooperated. I am giving you everything you want. Please, let me live,” Buckminster said, begging for his life. 

“You have peddled flesh. Worse, you are peddling foal flesh. You disgust me. Mister Mash, please shoot him, the very fact that he continues to breathe infuriates and disgusts me.” Spyglass stepped away from the unicorn and shielded his face with his wing. A second later, there was a loud thunderous crack and Spyglass felt something splattering against his feathers. He shook his wing, trying to get the bits of bone and bloodied meat off. 

The unicorn lay on the deck, his four legs kicking and twitching, and most of his head was now gone. Rye Mash stood nearby, smoke trailing up from the barrel of his pistol.

“I loathe flesh peddlers. But foal flesh, that is unforgivable. Somebody, please, dispose of this trash, the smell is most disagreeable and offensive to my nose.” Spyglass stepped away, looking disgusted, and his eyes narrowed. “Too much powder, Mister Mash. What a mess. I need to go find a cloud to roll in. I am covered in noble unicorn paste. Vile!” 

“Come on Rye, let’s go have a look belowdecks and see what we can find.” Bloody Velvet gestured at the door and chuckled at Spyglass’ predicament. 

Reloading, Rye Mash moved to follow Bloody Velvet. 
	
> Chapter 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The Apogee was overwhelming. As Rye moved belowdecks, each new room was more impressive than the last. The ship seemed to be a marvel of the age. There was a small galley to fix meals. The engine room seemed to be little more than a closet. There were several small but well appointed cabins. The ship was small, without feeling small, and that was quite a feat. 

Grinning, Rye Mash stepped into the room where Bloody Velvet was having a look around. 

Seeing Rye Mash, Velvet said, “Well, aren’t you a fancy fellow… feeling good about yourself?” 

There was sarcasm in her voice. Rye felt confusion well up in his mind and he looked at Bloody Velvet as she twitched. “What?” 

“You just killed somepony without a moment’s hesitation at a spoken command.” Velvet gave Rye a blank stare. 

“I was given an order—” 

“What if you were given a bad order?” Velvet asked. 

“But this was a good order—” 

“Maybe, this time, but you didn’t even think! You pulled the trigger and you turned Mister Bitter’s skull into meaty marmalade! You didn’t even hesitate when Spyglass gave you the order to kill him!” 

“I thought I was supposed to follow orders… I’m confused.” 

“Yes, you should follow orders. And in a crisis, you should obey them without hesitating so that we might all live…” Velvet raised her foreleg and rubbed the side of her head with her fetlock. “Look, Rye, it bothers me how eager you were. I get that you want to impress Captain Spyglass. I get that you are enamoured with the image of a sky pirate. I get that this is romantic and empowering for you… but I don’t want to see you lose the best parts of yourself, the parts of you that have the most potential… you’re too nice of a pony to become a cold blooded killer.” 

“I’m sorry, Velvet… I… I’m very confused right now and I don’t know what to say.”

“Just… try not to be mindless,” Velvet said in a soft voice. “I’ve let you into my heart. You’re my friend. I don’t want to harden my heart to you as I have had to do with the others.” 

“I think I understand.” Rye Mash hung his head and allowed his ears to droop in submission. “I’ll be more careful.” 

“Captain Spyglass is a good pony, but he has his faults. He makes mistakes. What if he told you to kill somepony that didn’t deserve it?” Velvet asked in a low voice as she looked at Rye Mash and felt bad because of how pathetic he looked. “You cleared leather at the mere sound of his voice.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Okay. Fine. Now stop being sorry and make yourself useful. We need to begin sorting through all of this and going over every inch of this ship.” Bloody Velvet heaved a sigh and blew her mane out of her eyes. 



 

Focused upon his task, Rye Mash turned the page of the business ledger. House Avarice, through House Bitters, owned a mining company called ‘The Golden Cornucopia’ and through this company, several other small companies were managed. There were ties to several other companies in Fancy, in Germaney, in Minos, and even in Griffonholm. Through one of the puppet companies, Avarice was selling coal to Griffonholm, which was illegal because of the embargo against the griffons. 

An embargo created by House Avarice. 

Rye Mash understood what was going on at once. With the trade embargo, they were the only Equestrian company capable of selling coal to the griffons and they have removed all sources of competition. House Avarice was now free to sell Equestrian coal and charge as much for it as they wanted. 

And with the coal came assets. Labour assets. Along with the coal, labour was being sold in the form of what Rye Mash knew were slaves. And this was just one ledger. Frowning, he closed the book, set the book down upon a small desk, and continued to look around the cabin. What he hoped to find was more code, or a means to crack the cipher. 

“Mister Mash?” 

Looking up, Rye glanced at Captain Spyglass. 

“We’re towing The Apogee for now… we are too close to hostile territory and we need to be moving… but once we know more about it, The Apogee that is, I plan to form a little fleet. I have given command of The Apogee to Bloody Velvet. You will move your quarters to this vessel and Skeeter will be moving here with you, to help you get from ship to ship. I want you to go over everything that can be found on this ship and I want you to give me detailed summaries of everything that you find. Even the most mundane of information can be useful.” 

“Sir, yes sir,” Rye Mash replied. 

“I am trusting you to be thorough. Do not let me down, Mister Mash.” Spyglass smiled and backed out of the door. 

Rye realised that he had a lot of reading ahead of him. 



 

The strange protrusions on top of the gasbag were cloud scoops. Cerise Velvet’s eyes narrowed as she peered at the manual for the ship that she had found in the control cabin. Pegasi were no longer needed to gather clouds and stuff them into the gasbag. One needed to fly through a cloud bank to gather cloudstuff for a refill. 

The Apogee was the bleeding edge of airship technology. It had shield generators. Lightning guns. A semi-automated piloting system that would allow the ship to fly in a straight line if left unattended would make corrections for minor winds. 

It even had a heater, of sorts, the heat generated by the electrical generation system and the lead acid batteries could be ducted into the cabins to provide some minor protection against the chill. The engine was a closed loop steam turbine that turned four airscrews. 

The ship was meant to be advertised as being unassailable by sky pirates. Cerise Velvet laughed. It had been tricky, but they had taken over the ship. Mid laugh, she stopped. Most sky pirates didn’t have powerful unicorns. Against griffons, against minotaurs, against diamond dogs, this ship would be almost unreachable for those that had no means to pierce the shields. Against sustained bombardment from enemy cannons that could wear down the shields, The Apogee boasted a countermeasure in the form of an unbelievable top of speed of sixty knots, which if true, would allow it to outrun anything else in the sky. 

The Apogee was not intended for heavy combat, but it could function as a warship. The manual said its designation was as a corvette. It was promised to be small, light, and maneuverable, relying on agility rather than brute force. 

It was with a slow feeling of creeping dread that Cerise realised that this ship was meant to be a display model and that House Bitters intended to sell it to the enemies of Equestria. The Apogee was unique, as it was a demonstration model, the actual production model promised smaller cabins, more efficient use of space, and could be built to specifications of the buyer. The manual slipped from her telekinesis and she looked around the cabin she was sitting in. A griffon fleet with corvettes like the The Apogee would be formidable, a terrible foe to face in open warfare in the sky. Backed with battleships, heavy cruisers, and dreadnaughts, the griffons could become an unstoppable rampaging menace to their neighbors and perhaps even against Equestria. 

The thought was sobering. 



 

“You comfortable, Skeeter?” Rye asked as he helped his friend get comfortable in his bunk. “You look a little better… and you don’t feel so warm.” 

Skeeter gave a weak nod. 

“We’re going to share this cabin and you’re going to get the top bunk and you’re going to get better… I’m glad you are feeling better. Want anything to eat?” 

The pegasus looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.

“You have an appetite again… wonderful. Let me go look around and see what might be in the galley. I am actually a fair cook, or so Lace Collar said. Cooking was one of my many duties. Lace Collar was dreadfully afraid of being poisoned so he made me cook for him,” Rye Mash said in a low voice. “I was never allowed to eat the food I prepared for Lace Collar. It was always gruel for me.” 

“Mmm umm hmm,” Skeeter murmured. 

“Okay, hold on, let me go fix you something to eat,” Rye replied. 



 

The small pantry seemed well stocked. There were all manner of glass jars filled with foodstuffs. There were bins filled with dry goods, staples of the Equestrian diet. The four unicorns were prepared to be away from home for quite some time, it appeared. 

There was a bin filled with root vegetables and an icebox that was frigid but had no ice. Rye Mash had no idea how it worked, but he was impressed. Inside the icebox were cheeses, eggs, and square glass jugs of juice all pressed together to conserve space. 

Stuck to the inside of the door, Rye Mash found the most useless recipe ever, but he could not help but to study it out of curiousity. It seemed very much out of place upon this ship, but perhaps there was some mysterious reason why it was here. 

“Nine pounds of salt, twelve pounds of pepper,” Rye Mash read to himself, his brows furrowing. “Thirty five pounds of flour, thirty four pounds of vegetable shortening, one hundred gallons of vegetable stock, one hundred and twenty pounds of peas, three hundred pounds of tomatoes, diced, two hundred and fifty pounds of onions, minced, one hundred and seventy five pounds of carrots, sliced, seven hundred pounds of potatoes, cubed, one hundred and sixty pounds of celery, sliced thin, an additional twenty five pounds of flour to make gravy, and seven gallons of water.” 

Rye Mash read through the cooking instructions and then said, “Serves two thousand ponies.” He could not help but feel curious as to why this recipe was stuck to the inside of the icebox door. This much food was mind boggling. 

Rye lifted several jars of tomato paste from the pantry, cracked open the lids, poured them into a large stock pot, dropped in several vegetable bouillon cubes, and then added water. In another pot, he set some water on the stove to boil and pulled out a sizable portion of egg noodles from a bin. He pulled a brick of cheese from the fridge, a soft smelly cheese, and began to crumble it up. 

“We have a cook… wonderful,” Bloody Velvet said as she entered the galley. “I will see that your wages are corrected and that you are compensated.” 

“But I was just—” 

“But you were just fixing me a bite to eat? How sweet!” 

“No, I was just going to fix Skeeter—” 

“And the rest of the crew aboard The Apogee a nice meal? You really are the nicest pony, you know that, Rye Mash?” Bloody Velvet batted her eyelashes at Rye and gave him a sweet smile. 

Defeated, Rye Mash began to add more ingredients to what he already had out on the stove and on the counter. “It wasn't anything fancy… tomato soup with egg noodles and some of this crumbled cheese. Skeeter can’t eat anything solid at the moment.” 

“Hmm.” Bloody Velvet pushed her way into the galley and began to pull stuff out of the pantry herself. 

“What are you planning?” Rye asked as Bloody Velvet began to pull stuff out. 

“Some sort of fritters, savoury. Might be nice to dip in soup. Ah, here we go, a jar of preserved white and yellow corn!” Bloody Velvet lifted up her prize and grinned. 

“I didn’t know you can cook,” Rye Mash said. 

“Because I’m a noble… I know… and no, I can’t cook. Not really. I just learned a few things here and there. In my old life, I had servants that took care of everything I needed. I hated it. But you are never too old to start learning a new way.” Bloody Velvet began to set out her ingredients upon the counter. “Come on Rye, this will be fun. Let’s make a mess and we can get Starjammer to clean it up. We’ll make him the head dishwasher.” 

“What am I?” Rye asked. 

“Why, the head cook. I meant what I said, I will see that your pay is adjusted. Somepony has to cook on this vessel and we’ll die if I do it,” Bloody Velvet replied. “Besides, I am now the captain of this ship.” 

“Oui, mon capitaine,” Rye said, raising his hoof in salute. 
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The guts of The Apogee’s control system lay strewn about the navigation cabin. Several crystals had been pulled out, crystalline fibre was stretched across the floor, and in the middle of the mess, Starjammer worked in utter and complete silence. 

“What’s he doing? Rye asked, leaning over and whispering into Bloody Velvet’s ear. 

“Making a much needed improvement,” Bloody Velvet replied. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“The ship flies in a straight line if left unattended. That’s bad for us. There aren’t enough ponies on board this ship to pilot craft at all hours. If we follow The Whalefish and that ship changes course, we’ll be separated. So, Starjammer is rigging the controls to follow a beacon he constructed aboard The Whalefish.” 

“Oh.” 

Sticking out her hoof, Bloody Velvet gave Rye a playful shove. “Your breath stinks like garlic and bad cheese. Begone, foul smelling pony of lowly peasant birth.” 

“Hey!” Rye cried in a voice of mock indignation. 

“What do all of the crystals do?” Woe Betide asked as she began to giggle from Bloody Velvet’s remark to Rye Mash. 

“Store spells, Woe. And hold energy collected from ley lines,” Bloody Velvet replied. 

“So the spells act like a command… hmm… nope, I don’t understand.” Woe flopped over onto the floor and kicked out her legs. “Boring.” 

“Woe, why don’t you go and help Rye look for secret compartments on this ship?” Bloody Velvet reached out and prodded the unicorn filly with her hoof. 

“Okay!” Woe sprang up, bounced, bounced again, and then looked at Rye, watching him sigh. “Come on Rye, we have orders! Let’s go!” 



 

Rye tapped on the back of a closet wall, trying to hear if it was hollow. They were still finding hidden nooks in this ship, though all of them were not really hidden, just out of the way places to hide stuff, and all of it had been empty. 

The idea of a hidden compartment persisted though, even Spyglass was certain that something was hidden aboard The Apogee. 

“Rye?” 

“Yes Woe?” 

“Have you ever noticed that the space beneath the stairs is closed off?” 

Rye Mash lifted his head. 

“Aboard The Whalefish, the space under all the different stairs is open and it is used for storage. Stuff can be secured there. But here, under the stairs is all walled in.” 

Rye Mash stepped out of the closet, turned tail, and left the water treatment room he had been searching. As he exited, he snatched up a pry bar that he had been bringing room to room with him, in case he found something promising. He looked at Woe Betide, who was poking at the boards with her hoof. 

The space under the stairs was closed off, forming a triangle. The stairs were a little less than a yard wide, and the space beneath them extended from the wall that the stairs were anchored to. Rye walked to the stairs themselves, peered down, trying to see between the risers. Aboard The Whalefish, you could see through the spaces between the stairs. 

These stairs were sealed off. 

This was just bad ship design to create an unreachable, unusable empty space that was sealed off. Or not… it was a good place to hide something. Rye Mash began to look around for the best place to start peeling the enclosed space open. 

Rye chose the corner, where the wooden planks were held together with pegs. He sunk the tip of the pry bar in between the planks, doubled down with his telekinesis, stabbed inwards a bit more, and then heaved. There was a creak as the wooden panel popped free from the pegs. He gave another shove, and soon the entire wooden plank fell away and clattered to the floor. 

Lighting his horn, Rye Mash looked inside. 

The light of his horn showed a shapeless mass of grey canvas inside of the small triangle shaped area beneath the stairs. Rye Mash felt his his heart begin thumping inside of his chest as he looked down at Woe and smiled. 

“Velvet! We found something!” Woe Betide cried. 



 

Several more planks fell to the floor as Rye Mash pried the wall away. Inside the compartment, there was a large grey canvas draped over a pile of stuff. A wooden trunk was also visible. A collection of wooden scroll casings could be seen sticking up out of a crate. 

“Oh stars… this looks interesting,” Bloody Velvet gasped. 

After pulling away one more plank, Rye Mash tugged at the heavy grey canvas. As it slid away, it revealed the almost glowing glimmer of gold beneath it. Gold bars were stacked atop one another and upon seeing it, Starjammer let out a long whistle of surprise. 

“That’s thirty six gold bars. Each bar is four hundred and forty four ounces of gold if they are following the Avarice standard. We’re looking at, uh, um… uh…” Velvet fell silent as she tried to to do the math inside of her head. 

“Nine hundred, ninety nine pounds,” Starjammer finished. 

“I don’t even comprehend how much that is worth,” Rye said in a low whisper as he backed away from the pile of gold bricks. “I’m having some trouble taking this in.”

Using her magic, Bloody Velvet flipped open a small wooden chest and saw it was full of gold coins. The mare lifted her head and whinnied. 

“Trouble,” Starjammer said in a low worried voice. He stared at Bloody Velvet. 

Bloody Velvet stared back at Starjammer for a moment and then looked at Rye Mash. “Rye… tell me, what do you see when you look at those coins?” 

Rye Mash shrugged. “More money than I’ve ever seen in my whole life.” 

“No, Rye… keep looking… tell me, what do you see?” Velvet asked. 

Rye stuck his head down and studied the shining gold coins. They were beautiful and perfect in every way. They were Equestrian bits. “I don’t know what you want me to see.” 

“These coins are freshly minted or have never seen circulation. There are no teeth marks, the edges haven’t been shaved off, they’re all clean, no smudges, no filth, no coal dust down in the nooks and crevices, these coins came from a treasury.” Bloody Velvet gave Rye a nudge. “Each one of those is a one hundred gold bit coin.” 

“So… these coins have never been touched by commoners?” Rye asked. 

“Can I have one?” Woe Betide asked in an excited squeak. 

“No,” Bloody Velvet said. “Something like that would get you in trouble, and then Rye would have to start killing a whole bunch of fools to keep you safe. And he’s the sort that would do it, too. That much gunfire would give me a headache.” 

Pouting, and giving Velvet a sullen glare, Woe Betide mumbled, “Shite.” 

“I wonder what is in the scroll tubes… the large wooden trunk might have anything… so what do you think all of this is for?” Rye Mash asked as he glanced over at Velvet. 

“I don’t know. It seems House Avarice was off doing business though. This, along with that stew recipe you found, this has me very upset,” Bloody Velvet replied. 

Rye shook his head. “The stew recipe has left me puzzled for a couple of days now, I’ll admit. It just seems so out of place. I mean, no one on this ship had any use for it. It had no place being here.” 

“So we have a stew recipe to feed thousands and enough gold here to buy Saddle Arabia. We have a real advanced prototype ship that’s probably still loaded down with more secret compartments and who knows what else is tucked away.” Bloody Velvet frowned took a step back, and sat down, the spasms in her hind legs becoming too much for her to bear. “In the past, House Avarice has pushed two opposing sides to war and then made a mountain of gold off of exploiting both sides.” 

Starjammer nodded but said nothing. He sat down beside Velvet and then pulled Rye Mash down beside him. 

“What will one thousand pounds of gold buy you?” Rye Mash asked. 

Bloody Velvet shrugged. “Anything you want. Right now, Starjammer is thinking that he’d spend one thousand pounds of gold to get you under the covers for a snuggle.” 

Choking, Rye Mash darted away from Starjammer, coughing, and he felt his cheeks blazing with an internal fire. He turned and looked at Starjammer and the unicorn gave a nod, followed by a saucy, lewd, lascivious wink. 

“Rye, calm down. It’s just a snuggle. There is nothing wrong with two grown stallions snuggling,” Bloody Velvet said in a teasing voice. 

Overcome with the giggles, Woe Betide lifted up her hoof, pointed, and then fell over, her giggles becoming guffaws. 

“Really, Rye… deep breaths… you would be the snuggler and Starjammer would be the snugglee. When Starjammer is with a mare, he’s all stallion, but when he’s with a stallion, he’s all mare, if that makes it any easier on you.” Bloody Velvet’s face contorted and spasmed as she started to laugh. 

Beside her, Starjammer scowled and then prodded Bloody Velvet with his hoof. 

“I need me some fresh air!” Rye Mash bolted away, running and leaping up the stairs. 



 

The cold wind felt good as it blew through Rye Mash’s pelt. He shivered, glad to feel the cold, and he could see The Whalefish ahead of them. He stood on the small deck of the The Apogee and tried to sort out his thoughts. 

Feeling confused and out of sorts, Rye Mash didn’t know what to think. He had felt nothing but confusion since that kiss with Starjammer, and then this had happened, bringing up everything that had settled down somewhat in his memory. 

But now, all those feelings were fresh once more. 

He watched as a group of pegasi pushed a bank of clouds towards The Whalefish so that the gasbag could be refilled. He tried to distract himself by looking at anything that might take his mind off of the current problem that was stuck inside of his brain. 

Starjammer was handsome. More and more, Rye was noticing that Starjammer was somewhat effeminate in his mannerisms. He had noticed it while watching the stallion eat, or drink his tea, or the way he read his book, or the way he moved. 

Rye Mash closed his eyes and admitted that he had been watching the way that Starjammer moved. Starjammer’s hips swayed more like a mare’s hips when he walked. His tail bobbed and flicked in a most inviting way. Starjammer wore his mane and tail a little longer than most stallions. 

Starjammer was, in fact, quite pleasing to look at, and it was a pleasure to watch the way that Starjammer moved. The stallion was graceful, sleek, and meticulous with his appearance. There was something about the pouty expressions that Starjammer made, the way his lips protruded and the way his eyes narrowed. The way his mane spilled down over his face, covering his eyes. The way that Starjammer blew his mane out of his face, snorting in frustration when it would not stay back. 

Rye Mash opened his eyes and gave himself a good shake and he felt his balls slap up against his inner thigh. The cold blew over all of the right places, cooling him off and making him feel better. 

“He’s pretty. There, I said it. He’s pretty in the same way mares are pretty and it shouldn’t matter that he’s a stallion.” 

But it did matter. Rye Mash sighed, allowed his ears to go limp, and then enjoyed the feeling of them flapping in the breeze. Rye Mash couldn’t figure out why it mattered. Feeling confused, he tried to clear his head once more so that he could think better, but his mind continued to race as fast as his heart. 

“Why do these things have to matter?” Rye Mash asked himself, glad to hear his own voice outside of his mind, away from the confusion. “Why does who you find pretty have to be so complicated? Why does a set of balls have to make things so difficult? Why am I so squeamish about all of this?” 

Nopony answered and Rye Mash was left alone with his thoughts. 
	
> Chapter 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Captain Spyglass paced back and forth, looking at the troubling sight that was the gold pile. It made his blood run cold and he felt tingles running up and down his spine with each glance. The gold, the scrolls, and everything else that had been found in the hidden cache. Over the past two days, the worry in his mind had grown, ever since this cache had first been found. 

“The scrolls might be enough print for us to break down the cipher and figure out what we are looking at,” Bloody Velvet said as Spyglass continued to pace. “Rye Mash just needs time, so he says. He’s smart and he’s clever. I think he can do it.” 

“I think I’ve already done it,” Rye said in a low voice. “I haven’t confirmed it and read everything just yet, but I think that it is a ladder cipher. I finally had enough words to work with. I need time to translate it.” 

“Ladder cipher?” Spyglass asked. “This is wonderful news… do you think you’ve cracked it? What is a ladder cipher? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“A ladder cipher is a complex cipher that displaces letters and requires some guesswork. If you have a five letter word, like say, the word ‘cheek,’ the first letter might be five letter up or five letters down in the alphabet. The second letter will also be either five letters up or five letters down in the alphabet. If you have two of the same letters in the middle of the word, one will be up, the other down, making it harder to form a pattern and guess. To read this, I’m gonna have to go through and arrange each word letter by letter, trying out the different words they form until I get a working sentence,” Rye Mash replied. 

“So… each letter is treated like a rung on a ladder, and the word itself is the key to tell you how many rungs to move either up or down?” Bloody Velvet asked, her muzzle scrunching up in concentration and her ear twitching from a petite spasm. 

Rye Mash nodded. “I think. I think that is what we are dealing with. I need time, but I have a suspicion.” 

“You have all the time you need, Mister Mash. Have any more caches been found yet?” Spyglass gave the crew of The Apogee a hopeful look. 

“Just this one, two days ago,” Bloody Velvet replied. “We’re still looking.” 

Sitting down upon the floor, Captain Spyglass turned to look at the pile of gold once more. This much gold was dangerous. This much gold could inspire a fair bit of greed. Make a pony desperate. This much gold, if word leaked out about it, could cause all manner of trouble to come looking for them. He turned and looked at Bloody Velvet. 

“I’m tempted to dump it over the side and let it fall into ocean,” Captain Spyglass said, admitting what he had been thinking. “That much gold can make a pony mad. Do bad things to their mind.” 

“Sir, that would be a bad idea,” Bloody Velvet replied, shaking her head. “This could be useful to our cause. This could help us fight.”

“Velvet, I look at that gold and I can’t help myself. I think that I could get out of this life. Set up my own kingdom somewhere, perhaps on some island. I must confess, I am tempted.” Captain Spyglass turned his head to look at the gold once more. 

“Being tempted is fine, act on it, and I’ll kill you.” Bloody Velvet’s words were cold, emotionless, and spoken in a flat monotone. 

“And you’d be right to do so… funny… gold has a magic all its own. Dragons kill for it. Wars are fought for it. Kings can never get enough of it. Brothers betray brothers for it. It would be better for us all if it was dumped over the side.” Spyglass shook his head and an expression of regret settled over his face. 

“I am inclined to agree with Captain Spyglass. I don’t like how all that gold makes me feel,” Rye Mash said in a low whisper. “And I don’t like how Starjammer can look at it and be disgusted. It makes me angry at him for some reason, and I don’t like it.” 

Starjammer’s ears perked up and he turned to look over at Rye Mash. He snorted, shook his head, his tail twitched, and then, without warning, he pressed his muzzle against Rye Mash’s and surprised the other stallion with an open mouthed kiss, slipping his tongue between Rye Mash’s unsuspecting lips and tickling the roof of Rye Mash’s mouth. 

His eyes wide, Rye Mash pulled away, licking his lips, and staring at Starjammer. 

“I must return to The Whalefish.” Captain Spyglass heaved a sigh. “Starjammer, please be gentle with my cabin colt. I do need him in one piece when we arrive in Trottingham.” 



 

Woe Betide let out a faint squeak and continued concentrating, holding up a book over head. Failure to keep holding the book up over her head would cause the book to come crashing down upon her head. She felt a bead of sweat form under her mane on the back of her neck, along her crest. It tickled as it trickled down. 

Letting out a cry, her concentration broke. She winced, waiting for the thump on her skull, but it never came. She opened one eye and looked around. She saw Starjammer and there was a kind, patient expression upon his face. His horn was ignited. She saw the book levitated away and set back upon the bookshelf. 

“Am I getting better?” Woe asked. 

Nodding, Starjammer’s head bobbed in an agreeable way. 

“You never say much,” Woe said. 

Starjammer’s head bobs ceased and his head turned from side to side. 

“Can you tell me why?” Woe asked. “Please?” 

The stallion nibbled upon his own lip, put on the spot by the curious filly. His eyes darted around, as if hoping to spot some way out of this predicament so he could keep his silence. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and then said in a soft voice, “Better to do than say.” 

“I don’t understand. Explain.” 

Starjammer slumped over and let out an exasperated sigh as a pained expression crept over his face. “Actions.” He paused for a moment and looked Woe in the eye. “Not lip flapping.” 

“Is this why you keep sneaking up on Rye and kissing him? You’re showing him, rather than telling him?” Woe asked. 

A wide toothy grin spread over Starjammer’s face and his head gave an enthusiastic bob in reply to the curious filly that had asked just the right question. His eyes twinkled with merriment. 

“Is it weird to kiss another stallion?” Woe looked up at Starjammer and blinked. 

Shrugging, Starjammer waved a hoof around. 

“Is one set of lips the same as any other?” Woe Betide, overcome with curiousity, wished that Starjammer would just say something. Anything. 

Staring up at the ceiling and refusing to look Woe Betide in the eye, Starjammer nodded. 

“Have you kissed Bloody Velvet yet?” Woe Betide asked in the most innocent voice she could muster. 

The stallion, staring at the ceiling, began humming. 

“I think it’s neat that you’re kinda girly.” Woe Betide gave up all pretense of being innocent and went right for the throat. “Maybe some perfume would get Rye’s attention. He sniffs things a lot. I noticed it when I was helping in the kitchen.” 

Starjammer’s head snapped downwards with alacrity and his eyes almost bored a hole through Woe Betide. One eyebrow began a slow, almost glacial pace as it crept up his forehead. His nostrils flared. 

“Bloody Velvet says I need to act more girly and stop saying words like bugger so much.” Woe Betide’s shoulders rose and fell as the filly sighed. “I don’t know anything about being girly and I always feel funny when she lectures me about trying to be a proper lady.” Woe looked over at her teacher. “Maybe we should take lessons together.” 

Considering the foal’s words, Starjammer reached up and began to rub his chin with his hoof. He nodded and looked Woe in the eye. 



 

A headache was forming and Rye Mash closed his eyes for a moment to rest them. He had uncovered one message so far that disturbed him a great deal. A short, brief message that had burned into his brain. 

Kr ku xeqa irb qeb Prk vq vhw dkg ijqaw omvi vcfds. 

The implication of the words were terrifying. It had taken him a while to solve the ladder cipher, including a loop that went from beginning back around to the end, but the meaning of the words were clear. And chilling. He wondered what House Avarice was planning. 

Other messages talked of putting an end to Princess Celestia and driving her out of Equestria somehow, while others talked about unicorns seizing control of the sun once more, and by doing so, seizing control of the world. Whoever controlled the sun controlled all life on the whole world by extension. 

House Avarice it was said, came from Princess Platinum and the unicorns that had once controlled the sun. The only thing that kept them from ruling the world was the fact that they were a noble house, and not the royal family of Equestria. Princess Celestia was the sole monarch of Equestria, although there was a lot of talk that she was little more than a puppet now, a figurehead. 

And given the nature of the cipher, Princess Celestia’s future seemed grim. 



 

“Skeeter, what are you doing up and about… are you feeling better?” Bloody Velvet asked in a low voice as she looked the pegasus over. He wobbled a bit but seemed to be moving around okay. 

The pegasus shrugged, paused, and nodded. He made his way to a comfortable chair and sat down. His face was still swollen and Skeeter made no effort to speak. Skeeter’s distinctive cerulean blue pelt was glossy and still somewhat damp after coming out of the shower, his dark blue mane was ever darker from being wet. 

“Something ever messes up your face again and I hope Rye shoots them,” Bloody Velvet said as she got up into Skeeter’s face and began looking him over. “It’s healing well. Swelling seems to have gone away. Does it feel hot?” 

Skeeter shook his head, causing his mane to tumble down into his eyes. 

In a moment of unexpected tenderness, Cerise Velvet kissed Skeeter on his other unwounded cheek and then she stepped away. “Brave little pegasus. You’ve earned that scar. Don’t you ever be ashamed of it, do you understand me?” 

More of Skeeter’s mane tumbled into his face as he nodded. Reaching up with his left foreleg, he pushed it back. 

When Rye Mash stumbled into the common room, Bloody Velvet could see by looking at him that there was something wrong, and not from peeking into his mind. His eyes were red, bloodshot, his ears were limp, and he looked just awful. She felt his headache for a moment and then backed out of his consciousness. Rye’s straw coloured mane looked limp, stringy, and unkept, which was worrisome. Rye was prissy and not one to let his appearance go. He kept his mane combed and neat looking. 

Lifting her hoof, Bloody Velvet pointed at a chair. “You,” she said to Rye Mash. “You sit down. You look like you could use a drink.” 

Not replying, Rye Mash went over to the chair that Velvet had pointed at and fell in with a grunt. His head fell down upon the overstuffed arm of the chair and he lay there, limp and unmoving. 

Bloody Velvet opened a cabinet, pulled out a decanter of whiskey, a glass, and she poured Rye a drink. She levitated the glass over to him and watched as he took it in his own telekinesis. She saw him sip it and then grimace as the fierce whiskey burned his throat. 

“The whole world is going to burn,” Rye Mash said in a low, raspy voice that had been burned by whiskey. 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Trottingham awaited. The sky was grey with clouds, fog, and soot. Burning coal poured black smoke out of almost every chimney and black ash fell down like snowflakes. The Apogee drifted beside The Whalefish and both vessels were becoming soiled from the filthy air. 

Rye Mash felt a tingle of excitement. This was a new city for him. A grand place, a fantastic place, a place storied in song and fireside tales all over the civilised world. This was one of the world’s largest cities. It sprawled in all directions, endless rowhouses, narrow streets, plain looking squares and rectangles for buildings. 

“Rye?” Bloody Velvet called out Rye’s name, trying to get his attention after she had poked him and there was no response. “Rye, are you there?” 

“Sorry.” Rye turned to look at Velvet. 

“You’ll have some time to explore but I doubt we’ll stay here for long. We’re here to see the Broker and take care of some other business. Captain Spyglass is going to need you to be your most charming when we visit the broker. I’m not allowed to go because of being a telepath. Makes him nervous. So you are going to guard Captain Spyglass. Everything should be fine. Just be polite.” 

“Okay.” Rye Mash returned to looking at Trottingham. 

“This place is a horrible cesspit. Rye, be careful. They have some bad attitudes about unicorns here in Trottingham. Be careful what you say, be careful with your magic, just… be careful,” Bloody Velvet said. 

“Starjammer refuses to come out,” Woe Betide said as she trotted up next to Velvet. 

“Starjammer is far too in love with his own snowy white pelt and that silvery blonde mane and tale of his… I have never, in all my life, seen a pony quite so vain.” Bloody Velvet shook her head as one of her hind legs quivered. “He’s allowed to get away with it though, cause he’s handsome. Right, Rye?” 

Saying nothing, Rye stared ahead at the filthy city. It started to drizzle and murky rain oozed down from the dull grey clouds. Everything looked the same; endless boxes of rowhouses stretched out as far as the eye could see. There were big brick factories near the coast. The seawater was a disgusting brown sludge with shimmering oily rainbows upon its greasy surface. 

“What’s that smell?” Woe Betide asked. 

“Trottingham,” Velvet replied, shaking her head. “The city sits at sea level, more or less. When the tide comes in, it pushes all the sewage back through the sewers. As a result, the streets are quite literally full of—” 

“Shite?” Woe Betide finished. 

“Yes, Woe, you, uh, said it quite well. I was going to be a bit more polite about it.” Velvet glanced down at the foal. “You’re staying on this ship and you are not to leave.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to go down there… there are all kinds of ponies that would probably love to bugger my backside or do all kinds of just awful things to me.” Woe Betide shuddered. “I like it here. It is warm, dry, there is food, and all of you are nice to me.” 

“And your backside remains undiddled,” Rye said. 

“Rye, do not let anything happen to Captain Spyglass. I mean it. You don’t understand how important our work is. He is vital to our cause. I know I tell you not to be blood thirsty and not to recklessly shoot other ponies or griffons, but if something does go wrong for whatever reason, you don’t hold back, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Bloody, I understand you…” 



 

The streets were in fact, full of dung. Filthy congealed muck oozed over the cobblestones. Rye Mash and Captain Spyglass rode together in a hansom cab that was driven by a small griffon. Rye Mash, wrapped up in his cloak, was armed to the teeth and very, very alert. Spyglass, also wearing a heavy cloak, was watchful as well. 

“Watch those foals,” Captain Spyglass said in a low voice. 

“Foals, sir?” Rye Mash eyed the foals following after the hansom cab. 

“Mister Mash, if those foals stop the cab, I do believe we will be robbed. If one of them approaches to beg for coins, give them a good scare and stick him in the snoot with your pistol. That should send a clear message. I hope.” Spyglass was nervous and his eyes darted back and forth as he tried to take in everything around him. 

Rye loosened one of his pistols from the holster and waited. One of the foals was trotting alongside the cab now, looking up with a hopeful grin. Rye noticed that several pegasi were sitting up on top of the roofs of the rowhouses, looking down. This was all very interesting. 

When the foal jumped up onto the step, Rye Mash drew his pistol and placed the end of the barrel just below the colt’s eye. The colt froze, shrieked in fear, pissed himself, and then jumped down. The other colts took off running and the pegasi up on the rooftops flew off. 

Rye Mash sheathed his pistol and resumed his watch. 



 

The Broker, as he was known, was a scrawny unicorn with glasses and only three legs. His eyeglasses were thick and made his eyes look tiny. He had several pegasi with him and a few unicorns. 

The meeting took place in a shabby, run down rowhouse with ratty furniture. Rye Mash stood close to Captain Spyglass, who had sat down in a chair that was covered with a tattered blanket. The living room was small, almost cramped, the Broker’s bodyguard’s had trouble all fitting into the small room together. 

“I apologise for these conditions,” the Broker said in a reedy voice. “But I am a wanted pony. House Avarice has placed a high price on my head, as have the griffons, a number of diamond dogs, and the king and queen of the Shire Isles.” 

“It is understandable,” Captain Spyglass replied. “Not only do I have your package, but I have a great deal of information and my cabin colt has cracked the ciphers we have been finding.” 

“I am interested.” The Broker sat up straight in his chair. “How much for your cabin colt, might I ask? Intelligence is a rare and precious commodity, more precious than gold or gems.” 

“Flatterer.” Captain Spyglass’ eyebrow raised. “He is not for sale. He has proven himself quite capable so far. I am sorry, but I am certain you will understand. Not only is he smart, but he’s damn good at shooting things I don’t like… how does one put a price on that?” 

One of the pegasi began to snicker. 

The Broker shrugged and then continued with his business. “House Avarice has put out quite a price upon one of their own sons, a stallion by the name of Starjammer. It seems as though there were some killings. Starjammer also is reputed to know a number of interesting facts about House Avarice, seeing as how he is one of the high ranking members. Rumour has it, he has been travelling by airship. If you were to run into him, you would do well to hire him on as a crewmember, if you can. He’s on the run from ponies who are very, very serious about killing him.” 

Spyglass nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The pegasus settled back into his chair. “We captured a prototype ship called The Apogee. On the ship were quite a number of interesting things, but most of it was encrypted correspondence. We’re still sorting through the information, but in my saddlebags I’ve brought copies of the things we’ve decoded so far and a number of business ledgers.” 

“Good.” 

Rye noted that this Broker fellow, whomever he was, seemed pleased. He looked around the room, noting that none of the Broker’s bodyguards were hostile. In fact, all of them seemed quite like pleasant fellows. Rye began to suspect that he and Spyglass were in no danger from the Broker and his guards, but rather, those hunting the Broker. 

“I get the feeling that this is going to be a profitable exchange.” The Broker smiled. “I would love to stay and chat, but right now, a number of agents are no doubt destroying the place where they thought this meeting was taking place. I took a great risk in coming here to this location, and I’d rather not stay. I must bid thee adieu.” The Broker pointed down at a oilcloth canvas courier bag sitting beside his chair. 

Captain Spyglass took off his saddlebags and set them down upon the ground. The two ponies looked at one another for a while, then nodded. As the exchange was being made, a burly pegasus peered out of the dingy glass of the front window. 

“My cabin colt has left instructions on how to read the ciphers. Some of the material I have left for you has not yet been translated. When next we meet, I would like to know what it says, if possible,” Captain Spyglass said. 

“Understood. It has been a pleasure seeing you, as always,” the Broker replied. 

With the bags exchanged, the meeting was over. The Broker stood up on his three legs, his movements stiff and clumsy. He looked at Rye Mash, peering at him through the thick lenses of his glasses. The frail unicorn smiled. 

“You play a dangerous game, cabin colt. Good luck… some of us keep playing for the love of the game… just remember, there are no rules other than to survive…” 



 

A different hansom cab, this time the pony pulling the cab was also the driver. Rye Mash sat wrapped up in his cloak, worried about keeping his guns dry. This cab had horrible suspension and he could feel every cobblestone they passed over. Rye Mash kept his eyes open for trouble, keeping watch for any orphans. 

“Mister Mash, I do not know if you understand how much trust I have shown you this day, but you should know, you are trusted,” Spyglass said as the hansom cab rocked back and forth. 

“I get the feeling that we are more than privateers.” Rye Mash gave Captain Spyglass a teasing smile. “So just who is this Broker fellow?” 

“No one knows who he is exactly. His name remains unknown. But he is an ally. We meet once in a while to exchange information.” Captain Spyglass scowled as the rain continued to come down in a steady, filthy torrent. “I don’t know how he has managed to live for so long. Everypony wants him dead. He continues to live, much to the dismay of many.” 

“So I am guessing that the information that you gave to him, he passes it along to others like us… fighting whatever it is that we are fighting. And the information you got from him is information that ponies like us have given to him,” Rye Mash said. 

“Yes, Mister Mash, and you are quite clever in your deductions,” Spyglass replied. 

Deep wrinkles appeared in Rye Mash’s muzzle as his brain worked overtime. “So there is a whole bunch of ponies like us, fighting a good fight, trying to do the right thing. But I guess we don’t have a leader and we don’t really know about each other so that way if some of us get captured, we don’t have much to say.” 

“Correct, Mister Mash.” 

“When you said that not many unicorns would choose this life, you weren’t just talking about serving aboard an airship, were you?” Rye Mash asked after having a flash of insight. 

“We are working to tear away the excessive privileges of unicorns in Equestria… and many other places in the world. I fear that would make you quite unpopular, Mister Mash.” Spyglass turned and looked at his cabin colt for a moment. “You really are quite remarkable.” 

“Why?” Rye asked. 

“Why what?” 

“Why are we doing this?” 

“Because, Mister Mash, all it takes for evil to be triumphant is for good ponies to sit back and do nothing. I make no claim to excessive goodness, but I sleep well enough at night.” 

“I see, Captain Spyglass.” 

“Once we have returned to the ships, feel free to take a little shore leave. I know that some of the others have. Watch out though, this is a rough city for sailors.” Spyglass resumed his vigil and kept his eyes upon the world around him, alert for danger. 
	
	
> Chapter 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Trottingham was a disgusting city; Rye liked it for what it was. While it might have been fun having a companion to explore with, Rye could live with seeing the city alone. Skeeter was still healing and didn’t want to get filthy water into the cut on his face. Starjammer didn’t want his pelt soiled and was probably hiding for other reasons as well. Bloody Velvet was with Spyglass procuring supplies and provisions. 

All of which meant that Rye Mash was alone while exploring the wonder of industrialisation that was Trottingham. The rain had let up but the clouds had not cleared. Rye wasn’t sure that the clouds could clear, the sooty black cloud over the city seemed to be a permanent fixture, blotting out the sun and leaving the city in a smoggy, blighted state. 

In front of one of the factories was a showroom that had a sign that stated “Come and see the self pulling carriage.” That intrigued Rye, but the showroom wasn’t open and would not be open until tomorrow, which was disappointing. Another sign on the factory said “The future is steam—full steam ahead towards tomorrow!” 

Steam did seem to be the future, but not the dirty coal powered steam of Trottingham. Rye Mash had already seen steam powered boilers that ran on various means of arcano-tech, such as The Whalefish and The Apogee. But coal was cheap and you didn’t need armies of unicorns to make things that would boil water. 

Everything was sooty brass and grungy bricks. What windows there were had a slimy black film on them that shimmered, slick with oily rainbows. Rye Mash could see the future in the steam powered city of Trottingham, and the future looked filthy. Each and every puddle in the street was sewage and more oil slick rainbows. It was beautiful and disgusting at the same time. 

“Come and see the fuel of tomorrow… liquid coal! Yes, you heard me, that’s right, liquid coal! A new extraction process from Germaney takes the energy of coal and puts it in concentrated liquid state! One ton of liquid replaces two point five tons of lump coal!” a street hawker yelled from the back of a wagon. “You can burn it in lamps! Power a boiler! Cleaner burning and won’t make your food taste like coal dust!” 

Rye Mash stopped and watched the pony hawking the promise of liquid coal from the back of the wagon as coal dust fell all around him like dirty black snowflakes, covering everything in a fine layer of sooty grime. 

“This secret formula produces no pollution when it burns! No black gunk covering your city!” The hawker held up a glass jar over his head. “See, it is clear as water, one hundred percent clean!” 

If something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Rye Mash suspected that it was water in the jar. Or it could be clean burning liquid coal. Or it could be liquid coal that produced pollution that one did not see. Either way, it sounded too good to be true. Rye got a move on, knowing that he only had so much time before he had to be back aboard The Apogee. 



 

Rye Mash heard music. He stood in what appeared to be some inner city oasis. There were cafes, little art galleries, coffee shops, curio shops, and little stores of all kinds. It reminded him of Canterlot, only a whole lot filthier. There was a doll shop that produced beautiful little pony dolls that had brushable manes made from what the sign claimed was real pony hair. 

Ahead was a large building that had a sign that had nothing but a black kettle upon it. It looked like a tavern. A lot of ponies streamed in and out of it. Rye, curious, thought he would have himself a look. He passed through the busy streets, pushing his way through the crowd, grinning and having a good time. 

The Kettle, as it was known, may have been the most depraved place in all of Trottingham…



 

It was hard to think and even harder to breathe. The air was stifling and smelled like hot, sweaty pony. The sound of hundreds of ponies talking all at once assaulted Rye’s ears. Rye shoved his way through the crowd, trying to get away from the door, his nostrils crinkling from the stench of urine, as well as other horrible smells. 

Mares danced upon a well lit stage, but everything else in The Kettle was dark. The grimy windows were so covered in filth that no sunlight made its way inside. The floor was sticky, covered by something so foul that Rye Mash didn’t want to know what it might have been, but likely a congealed mess of coal soot, sewage, vomit, and who knew what else. 

This was the sort of place that epics were written about. This was the sort of place where world weary adventurers went to have fun. This was the sort of place where adventure happened. Rye Mash had some very romantic notions about the dirty cesspit he found himself inside of. 

Looking around, Rye Mash saw a stallion with his head crammed under another stallion’s stomach. It took him a moment to realise what was going on. He jerked his head away and looked at the bar with hundreds of shiny glass bottles, grateful to be looking at, well, anything else. He took a deep breath and felt a little too warm. 

“Fight starts in half an hour!” a pegasus shouted. “The pegasus known as the Bricklayer will be fighting the giant rat! Place your bets now!” 

Giant rat? Rye Mash had to see that. It would have to be enormous to give a good fight to a pegasus. He pushed his way through the crowd, moving towards the back, where a group of ponies was pushing through a wide double door. 



 

It wasn’t a giant rat. Rye Mash didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a giant rat. It had a long tail, was well muscled, and was almost rodent-like, but it was not a giant rat. He couldn’t see it very well from his vantage point, but getting closer to the cage where the creature was kept was impossible. 

There was a large pit that went down into the floor and a massive dirty, disgusting mirror upon the ceiling where ponies could see the fighting that took place in the pit. Rye Mash thought the setup was rather clever, but he felt bad for anything kept as a slave and forced to fight in a pit. The creature in the cage looked miserable. 

“Somepony help me!” 

The voice was feminine and rather squeaky. It got Rye’s attention and he saw a blue-grey filly approaching. She was small, slight of build, and had a mane so black that it appeared to have blue streaks in it. 

“I’m being forced into a marriage!” the filly said as she pushed her way through the crowd, which seemed to be ignoring her. “Somepony help!” 

Feeling a swell of pride as well as a burst of excitement, Rye Mash pushed his way to her side, shoving his way through the herd of ponies, and bumped up against the filly. “What seems to be the trouble?” 

“I have a debt… and I am going to be forced to marry a big smelly oaf!” The filly looked frightened, panicked even, and gave Rye Mash a pleading look. “Can you help me?” 

Rye Mash looked around and realised that nopony else seemed interested in helping and as he reached this conclusion, he saw a big pegasus push his way into the room, followed by a gang of somewhat smaller pegasi. The crowd parted to get out of their way after they entered. 

“Ah, Mousy… there you are. I told you what would happen if you ran… now I am going to break your leg to teach you a lesson and give you a good dry cornholing, you squeaky little bi—” 

There was an ominous click that silenced the big pegasus. Rye Mash had pulled out the pepperbox, the four barreled pistol and was pointing it at the big pegasus. Rye Mash kept his other guns under his cloak. There was no need to pull out everything he had… yet. 

The pepperbox had four barrels, each of them quite cavernous, large enough to stuff a whole carrot down inside. As far as raw intimidation went, it was a fantastic weapon, and it did its job very well. The big pegasus eyed the gun and there was a glint of fear in his eye, something that Rye Mash took note of. 

“Now, I do believe you were just talking about rape… let’s discuss that,” Rye Mash said, still pointing the pepperbox at the big pegasus. 

“Look, stay out of this, you grubby little twat,” one of the smaller pegasi said as he moved up beside the larger. 

“Manners, good sir,” Rye Mash warned, giving the pepperbox a little wave. “I’ve shot plenty of foul mannered foes for far less.” 

“I don’t think you have the stones,” another pegasus said, moving forward and off to the side. “I think this one is all talk… I say we should take him and sell him to Stubbs… Stubbs will be happy to sell this prissy little shite’s ass around the Barrens.” 

Rye Mash became aware of the fact that he was being flanked. He started backing up, glancing around, and the blue-grey filly moved along with him at his side. “Don’t think I have the stones, eh?” Rye Mash grinned and brought out the scattergun from beneath his cloak, sliding it out from its leather straps. He pointed it at the pegasus attempting to flank him. The short barreled shotgun made a number of pegasi gang gasp. 

“Look, we don’t need this sort of trouble. How’s about I pay you a few golds and you just walk away, how’s that sound?” the big pegasus asked. 

“Yeah, you big lummox, you don’t seem so tough now, here’s a situation where you can’t just have your way or take what you need, you dirty asshole stretching genital wart!” 

“I’m gonna have words with you later, Mousy, I’m gonna enjoy ripping your ass—” 

“Shut up,” Rye Mash commanded, pointing the pepperbox at the big stallion. “Leave. Now. Walk away if you want to live.” 

More ponies began to push their way into the room and the big pegasus grinned. “Ah, here we go. Backup. Now you were saying, you scrawny little shite?” 

Rye Mash swallowed. Things were getting interesting. He pulled out the two pistols that Bloody Velvet gave him, the two long barreled pistols that he had taken from the griffon captain, and the scoped pistol he had purchased in Tradewinds. Feeling a little braver, he pulled out the shotgun. “This should even the odds a little. Who wants to die first?” 

“You can’t shoot all of us,” the big pegasus said in a voice that quavered with fear. “You will be overwhelmed… your guns will be taken. If you walk away now, we can just forget that this even happened. Just walk away.” 

“Aye, he might have more guns under that cloak of his,” a pegasus said, backing away and moving off to one side. “Rush him from all sides. He can’t shoot all of us.” 

“First pony that takes a step towards me dies,” Rye Mash said in a low voice. 

The big pegasus, nervous, blinked a few times and then took a step forwards. And that was when the trouble started. Rye Mash was a pony of his word. The shotgun winked, vanishing for a moment, and then reappeared behind the big pegasus. 

When the trigger was pulled, a load of fire and nails went into the big pegasus’ groin, dropping him to the floor. As this was happening, Rye Mash fired one shot at the cage behind him with one of his pistols, blowing the padlock off of the door. There was a creak from the rusted hinges as the door opened. 

“Oooh… ol’ Oola Roo is about to do some ass kickin’,” the creature said as she climbed out of her cage. She lifted her hands and cracked her knuckles. 

The stunned pegasi stared and nopony moved. Rye Mash stood, two guns still smoking, looking around, waiting for more trouble. Rye Mash began to reload, using his magic to do so. 

“Follow me, we’re going,” Rye Mash said to the filly at his side. “You there, whoever you are, you are free to do as you please.” 

“They’ll just catch me again… I’ve already escaped a few times,” the creature replied. 

“Then come with me,” Rye said as he stepped forwards. 

Snarling, one of the pegasi lunged forwards, angry, hot headed, and he was very, very fast. Rye Mash pulled the trigger and shot the incoming pegasus in the head, dropping him to the floor. Blood began to pool around the body. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Rye Mash said as he made his way to the door. 

“Screw the lot of you, you filthy smegma suckers,” the large bipedal rat-like creature said. She raised her fists in defiance. 

Leading the way, the pegasi now staying back, Rye Mash pushed his way into the next room, which was almost empty now. Only a few brave ponies had stayed behind to watch, to wait, and to see what was going to happen next. 

The bartender, a unicorn, looked at Rye Mash. “I’d run if I was you. No doubt there are quite a number of pissed off unicorns coming right now. You have upset the wrong sorts of ponies. I’d guess you’re a sailor, I’d get back to your ship before the real trouble arrives.” 

“Thank you, good sir,” Rye replied as he moved though the main room, keeping a cautious eye on those around him, all of his pistols and guns still drawn and ready. 

“Drink piss,” the creature said to the bartender as she followed Rye. “I have half a mind to kill ya for what you’ve done to me…” 

Reaching the front door, Rye Mash pushed it open… 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Outside of The Kettle, there was quite a crowd. Rye Mash could see an incoming group, which meant more trouble no doubt. A mob of unicorns and pegasi were coming in, a rather well dressed if somewhat ratty looking gang. 

Fops. Rye Mash hated fops. He thought of Lace Collar. He began to move forward, Mousy and Oola right behind him. Some of the unicorns were getting ready to cast spells and Rye realised he needed to clear out the crowd so he could run. 

He raised one of the large pistols that Bloody Velvet had given him, took aim, and fired. The bullet went wide and caught a unicorn in the neck, tearing open a horrific wound. Garish purple-red blood oozed out in rhythmic spurts as the unicorn fell over and began to kick on the filthy cobblestones. It almost looked as though the unicorn was dancing a jaunty little jig as he gurgled and struggled to breathe. 

The crowd, seeing the violence, screamed and then stampeded. Rye Mash stood, a halo of gunsmoke wafting around him. He saw an opening and took off running with everything he had in him. Behind him, Mousy and Oola followed. As Rye Mash ran, he reloaded. 

“What is the plan?” Mousy asked. 

“We run,” Rye replied. 

“At some point we have to stop running!” 

“We’ve just got to make it to the harbour. There’s a ship and I have friends.” 

Two ponies and whatever Oola was ran down the street. The stampeding mob trampled the incoming gang of fops. Rye Mash had caused pure anarchy on the streets and he was using it to make good his escape.

“More incoming,” Oola shouted as she pointed upwards at a group of incoming pegasi. 

Still running, Rye kept a wary eye upon the flyers overhead. They were heading towards the mob, no doubt to help their fellows. Rye Mash picked up speed, his hooves clattering on the slimy, disgusting cobblestones. 

“So what in the stars are you?” Rye asked. 

“She appears to be a pony, you barrel bunghole buggering dimwit,” Oola replied. 

“No, what are you, you look like a giant rat creature!” 

“Imma kangaroo… and maybe an alcoholic.” Appearing to expend no effort, Oola bounded alongside Rye Mash, leaping and keeping up with the running unicorn. “You ain’t never heard of no kangaroo?” 

“No!” Rye cast a glance at the creature beside him, marvelling at how she moved. 

“Aye, right then… we’re going to be killed by those dainty fart felchers in stovepipe hats and those funny looking vests.” Oola bounced forwards, her long tail rippling to provide balance. “I hates ’em, I do.” 

“That’s two of us, I can’t stand fops,” Rye replied. As he ran, he began to wonder if he would get caught. This was starting to feel a little too easy. He wasn’t about to jinx it by saying anything though. No, he kept his mouth shut and kept running. 

“If by fops, you mean ‘wee dainty asshole stretchers,’ I don’t like fops either! It’s just rude, doing that to a girl! No warning or anything, just going in dry—” 

“This is stuff I don’t need to know!” Rye shouted as he ran. 



 

“I don’t think we’re being followed anymore,” Mousy said as she looked around. She came to a halt as Rye did the same, her sides heaving from her exertion. She looked up at Oola and stared up at the tall creature. “Today might just be your lucky day.” 

The tall kangaroo creature nodded. “Aye, it might.” She leaned on a stone fence and tried to catch her breath. “I don’t want to go back into a cage. How many guns you got under that cloak of yours?” 

“Enough,” Rye replied. 

Oola grinned. “Right then, look at him, he’s a stone cold killer he is, shooting his own kind in the head and the neck—” 

“Those aren’t my kind… I don’t believe in slavery,” Rye said, correcting Oola in a somewhat raspy voice. “We should keep moving. I don’t think we’re done yet. All it takes is one flying pegasus to spot you and we’ll have company again. You sort of stand out, Oola.” 

The kangaroo watched as Rye took a deep breath and then started off once more. She followed, in a sort of half bounce—half walk, her long, thick tail waving. “Eh, I like this one… howsabouts I gives ya a tumble when we get to wherever it is we’re going—” 

“That isn’t necessary—” 

“Is it because I’m a kangaroo?” Oola demanded in an offended tone. 

“No!” Rye said in a sharp retort. “I’m just not that type, that’s all.” 

“Well I didn’t think you’d be the type that’d poke a girl in the mudhole unannounced, but a little of the old in-out-in-out in the old slurp hole never hurt no one—” 

“Ugh!” Rye shook his head. “Look, it isn’t about you… I just—” 

“Yer a virgin?” Oola bounced alongside Rye, looking down at his face, trying to study it, no longer offended but curious. “Oy, he’s a virgin! You ain’t never had no tumble before!” 

Saying nothing, Rye Mash gritted his teeth and tried to endure the moment. He also tried to ignore the giant rat creature hopping along beside him, and he became all too aware of the filly walking along his other side. 

“I’ve never met a colt your age that hasn’t been bred,” Mousy said as they walked. “Is there something wrong with you? Can’t get it up?” 

“Aye, girl, you’ve got some kinda guts in you, asking a straight shooting killer questions like that.” Oola leaned over and gave a wink to Mousy. She ignored the sounds of grinding teeth coming from the colt between them. 

Giving Rye a sidelong glance as they walked, Mousy gave her rescuer a smile. “I never did get your name…” 

“My name is Rye Mash.” 

“Well, Rye Mash, my name is Mousy. Ponies call me that because of my cutie mark… which is a mouse. Funny story…” 

“I’m sure it is,” Rye Mash replied in a rather brusque manner. 

“His pride is hurting.” Oola looked down at the sullen colt. “I mean, you did ask him if he had trouble getting his willy hard.” 

“Well, I was just curious. I’ve kept myself untouched, if it makes you feel better. That’s a hard thing for a filly to do in these parts. I did get a good dry humping once, but he was too drunk to find his way inside.” Mousy’s voice was soft, calm, and rather… mousy. There was a bit of a squeak to it. 

“Aye, you putting on airs, girl?” Oola asked. 

“Nothing of the sort,” Mousy replied. She looked up at the kangaroo as they walked. “I don’t want to raise foals in this wretched place. I hate it here. I hate everything about this city and I’ve been trying to get away for a long time… but I have debts.” 

“Debts?” Rye asked. 

“Never mind, I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Mousy replied. She shook her head. “I can finally start over and be the sort of pony I want to be.” She held her head a little higher and walked with a bit more spring in her step. 



 

Rye Mash heaved a sigh of relief when he saw The Whalefish and The Apogee. The harbour reeked of sewage and filth. There were seafaring vessels here, as well as airships. Rye Mash could see supplies being loaded onto the two ships and he watched as the pegasi worked, lifting the heavy crates. Earth ponies on the deck of The Whalefish worked winches pulled up heavier cargo crates. 

Oola paused, turned around, and looked at the city behind her. “I can’t say I’ll miss this place. I haven’t seen this harbour since I don’t know when. It was the day they brought me here. I was sold the same day.” 

“We might be able to help you get home,” Rye Mash offered. 

“Home? Home is a sump hole filled with all kinds of horror and poisonous creepy crawlies. Naw… I don’t want to go home. I just don’t want to be a slave any longer,” Oola replied. “You’re a good sort, helping a girl out and turning down a tumble.” 

Rye Mash was about to say something, but the flutter of wings distracted him. He turned and saw Captain Spyglass setting down, along with several other pegasi. Rye Mash grinned when he saw the captain’s confused expression as the captain looked at Oola. 

“I made a few friends,” Rye Mash said as he continued to grin at Captain Spyglass. “The tall one is Oola. She’s a kangaroo. And this is—” 

“As I live and breathe, it is the dirty little pilferer that tried to steal from me a few years ago,” Captain Spyglass said as he pushed Rye Mash aside and stepped towards the dark blue-grey filly. “I’d recognise that mouse cutie mark anywhere.” 

Mousy took a step backwards, her eyes wide and fearful. 

“Don’t even try to run,” Spyglass warned. 

“Look, sir, I do apologise, but a filly has to do what a filly has to do—” 

“Hey, don’t hurt her.” Rye Mash tried to insert himself between Captain Spyglass and Mousy. He looked Spyglass in the eye. “I just got done saving her and I had to shoot a few ponies—” 

“Saving her? Do you even know who she is?” Spyglass demanded. 

“Somepony under my protection,” Rye Mash replied, looking his captain in the eye. 

Spyglass burst out laughing, which confused Rye Mash. Standing there, looking bewildered, Rye Mash watched his captain laughing, while also keeping an eye on Mousy. He saw more ponies coming over, including a familiar unicorn. 

“Mousy the padhoof. As one of your almost victims, I found out about you. A no good creeper sneak thief—” 

“So is Woe Betide, and you gave her a job.” Rye gave Spyglass a hard stare as the two stood snoot to snoot. 

The captain’s riotous laughter ceased. A shrewd look crept over his face as he stared his cabin colt in the eye. One eyebrow began to raise in a slow, cautious manner as the captain’s brain processed Rye’s suggestion. 

“A sneaky pony and Woe Betide would be a pretty good combination,” Rye said, trying to sell his captain on the idea. “She can’t stay here. Look, somepony was about to force her into marriage to settle her debts and there was some shooting and I went through a lot of trouble to get her out of trouble.” 

Captain Spyglass’ lips pressed into a straight line as he considered his cabin colt’s words. He glanced over at Mousy, who had her head down and was trying to look as submissive as possible, which Spyglass knew was an act. Mousy was reputed to be a good con artist, a smooth talker, and according to the Broker, she was also said to be honourable. 

“I might be a thief but I am mostly honest. I keep my word, or I try to. I wasn’t trying to con nopony, not this time, I was just looking for a way out,” Mousy said in a meek voice. 

“Stop with the acting and be honest.” Rye turned and looked at Mousy, focusing his hard stare upon her. “What debt did you have that caused all of this?” 

Sighing, Mousy’s head dropped and her ears went flat. 

“Don’t lie to us.” Bloody Velvet, now standing beside Spyglass, afixed a stern glare upon the filly. “Trust me when I say that I’ll know if you are lying. If you do, I’ll just get the truth out of you the hard way.” 

“Look, I try to be honest when I can and I try to keep my word. I might be a thief, but in my business, being honourable does matter. I was offered a lot of money if I would accept a deal without knowing any details about it. At first I said no, but I didn’t have any other jobs lined up and this one was offering a lot of money. And I do mean a lot of money.” 

“Go on, and spare me the honourable thief malarky,” Bloody Velvet demanded. 

“There was a shipment coming in from the Sea of Grass. Pretty standard stuff. I found out we were supposed to steal some cargo. Stuff I’ve been a part of before. We set up a team and it was my job to get aboard the sailing ship, case the ship, get a basic layout, return to the others with a map, and return with the shipping manifest so we’d know exactly which cargo crates were which.” 

“Seems pretty straight forward,” Spyglass said. 

“I thought so to,” Mousy replied. “So I was on the ship, prowling around, doing what I do best, moving from shadow to shadow, I had a good map and I was waiting to steal the shipping manifest. The captain was talking with several crew members and I was in a closet with a bunch of life vests and I hear them talking. Turns out, they're shipping several crates of medicine up from the Sea of Grass, a charitable gesture from the zebras down there to help the orphans and widows of Trottingham with hoof rot. And I realise, I’m about to help steal those crates.” Mousy blew her dark black mane out of her face and then looked at Captain Spyglass. “I broke my word and abandoned my job. A lot of ponies got caught that night, because they tried anyway. I got blamed for it and a few ponies tried to kill me, and a smaller crime family offered to save me but only if I married their idiot son—” 

“I’ll be damned, she’s telling the truth. All of it. No duplicity upon her part.” Bloody Velvet shook her head. “I would have expected a little lying on her part and the whole thing with stealing medicine from orphans seems a little dramatic, but she’s telling the truth.” 

“Yeah, well, the idiot son said he was going to break her leg and give her a good dry cornholing,” Rye said. 

“How rude.” Spyglass shook his head and snorted in disgust. 

“I shot him.” Rye Mash looked at his captain, hoping for approval. 

Spyglass turned and grinned at his cabin colt. “Good lad.” 

“Aye, he shot him alright, he put a shotgun behind the pegasus and unloaded a bunch of nails and fire into the big prick’s no doubt warty asshole,” Oola said. 

“Oh dear… oh… oh my…” Spyglass closed his eyes. 

Other ponies present squirmed in an uncomfortable manner and Oola liked the effect she was having on the crowd. “It was point blank too! Turned his stones into jelly!” 

“Rye Mash, if you keep this up, you are going to get some kind of reputation,” Spyglass said in a low voice. He took a deep breath and then looked at Oola and Mousy. “And how did you come into this… miss?” 

“Call me Oola. I’m a bare knuckle boxer. Rye Mash let me out of my cage.” Oola bent over and gave Spyglass a little bow. “I can be a hard worker and I’m a good fighter. I can make myself useful. And I have these!” Oola waved her hands in front of Spyglass and waggled her fingers. 

“I see. Those are very useful.” Spyglass stared up at the kangaroo. 

“I’m also a fantastically good lay, but your cabin colt turned me down.” 

“Yes, he does that. He’s skittish and I think he might be a bit of a prude.” 

“Hey!” Rye Mash felt flames in his cheeks. He glared at his captain and tried to think of something witty or something clever to say, but his brain gave him nothing to work with. 

Captain Spyglass turned to look at the pegasi around him. “Please, see that Rye Mash and our new crewmembers are taken to The Apogee. We need to be leaving soon, so everypony hurry up and finish.” He then turned to Rye Mash. “Once again, you’ve done well…” 
	
> Chapter 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Space aboard The Apogee was a little tighter. With Skeeter, Starjammer, Woe Betide, Bloody Velvet, and himself, things were already cramped. Now, with Mousy and Oola, things were, well, whatever it was that came after cramped, Rye Mash didn’t know. 

Starjammer and Bloody Velvet were trying to rig up some place for Oola to sleep. Oola, a giant, had some trouble moving around the ship, unable to stand at her full height. She was forced to move around almost on all fours and there were no beds large enough for her. 

Skeeter the pegasus and Mousy the earth pony struck up a conversation, if it could be called that, with Skeeter doing most of the listening and Mousy doing most of the talking. Mousy talked about doing what she was good at, which was being a padhoof. Skeeter listened with wide, curious eyes. 

In the kitchen, Woe Betide followed Rye Mash around, trying to pry the bloody details of his time on shore out of him as he tried to prepare a meal. Rye, tight lipped about the events of the day, put the filly to work instead, ordering her to chop vegetables. Woe Betide did so, but only after much whining and protest. 

In the main room, Oola settled in on top of a few cushions and cuddled up with a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet… 



 

“So does anybody know where we are off to next?” Rye asked between bites of food. 

Bloody Velvet chewed her food as she nodded. After swallowing, she replied, “Sable Blanc. It’s a little town on the coast of Fancy.” 

“Why are we going there? Meeting with smugglers? Battle other pirates?” Excited, Woe Betide bounced up and down in her chair. 

Shaking her head, Bloody Velvet smiled. “None of those things. Captain Spyglass is rather fond of the cheese that they make. I know nothing of cheesemaking, but they use seawater, and somehow the cheese itself comes out a little salty.” 

“But seawater is full of shite and dead bodies,” Woe Betide said, her words causing Oola to laugh.

“Your mouth!” Rye looked at Woe, his gaze stern. “Trottingham’s water certainly was.” 

“Perhaps we can have some shore leave where Rye Mash doesn’t have to kill anypony,” Bloody Velvet said. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Go somewhere and not leave behind a slew of dead bodies?” 

The kangaroo lifted her head. “Sounds boring.” 

A large piece of potato lurked in Rye Mash’s stew. He fished it out with his spoon, stuck it in his mouth, and began chewing. Exploring the city had been fun, but there was a certain thrill about conflict. He stared down into his bowl of vegetables almost as if he expected to find answers there. 

“So this is what you do? You fly around from place to place, killing?” Oola asked. 

“Well, that is what Rye does,” Bloody Velvet replied. The mare gave Oola a trembling, quivering smile. 

“Hey!” 

“The rest of us try to be civil.” Bloody Velvet smiled at Rye. “We try to make a difference. We prey upon the slavers, the pirates, and the scum of the skies. We’re not strong enough to wage war on our enemies in the usual way, so we use hit and run tactics, we hound them, and we pick off lone ships if we find them. We’ve freed hundreds of slaves.” 

“Ooh… well… right… well, I’m all up for that.” Oola looked around the table. “I’m sick of taking it and I’m in the mood to dish it out.” 

“Stories. We all have one.” 

“The quiet one speaks!” Rye Mash looked over at Starjammer. “Plan to grace us with more words?” 

With an almost embarrassed expression, Starjammer lifted his hoof, shook his head, and then returned to eating, ignoring Rye Mash’s laughter. Starjammer’s cheeks took on a faint pink tinge. 

“What have I got myself into?” Mousy asked. 



 

Surrounded by books, ledgers, and coded messages, Rye Mash had lost himself in work. Pieces of paper with letters scribbled in random strings were everywhere. Frowning, the colt then lifted one such sheet of paper, compared it to an entry in a ledger, and then set the paper down, his scowl intensifying. 

Salad Days. Or was it salad days? It was hard to tell. Rye Mash suspected that there was a pony named ‘Salad Days’ that had an affiliation with House Avarice. Or perhaps a place called ‘Salad Days.’ Whomever, or whatever they were, they were getting regular shipments. Not long ago, something very, very valuable had been secured at great cost and then sent to Salad Days. Rye Mash had no clue as to what it was yet, but there was still a lot more to sort out and more code to translate. 

Puzzling out another cipher, Rye Mash had the words ‘peck’ and ‘paw,’ which seemed to be some project that seemed to be associated with Salad Days. House Avarice had spent a great deal of money upon it. 

“Rye?” 

Blinking, his eyes bleary and blurry, Rye Mash looked up from his work. It took him several seconds to focus upon Bloody Velvet, her outline fuzzy. He set down his quill and then began to rub his eyes. 

“Rye, you should take a break. You’ve been at this for far too long.” 

“It’s only been a few hours,” Rye said, shaking his head. 

“Rye, the ship’s clock says it is after midnight. You’ve been at this since after supper. It’s been over eight hours—” 

“No… no, that’s not possible… is it?” 

“Rye, you look like a corpse… and you’ve rubbed ink all over your face.” Bloody Velvet sat down upon the floor, the corner of her mouth spasming. “You need to get some rest—” 

“No… I’m just starting to make connections… I’m just starting to get into the good stuff and things are starting to make sense. Sort of. I can’t quit now.” 

Bloody Velvet shook her head. “Rye, you need to take a break… go to bed.” 

“But I—” 

“But nothing. All of this will still be here when you wake up.” Bloody Velvet’s horn lit up. She cleaned the ink from Rye’s face using a little minor magic and then gave him a stern look. “Go to bed.” 

“I can’t—” 

“Rye, I told you, killing changes you. I tried to tell you. What’s done is done, and what’s dead is dead. There is no way of undoing what you did earlier this day. It’s going to stay in your mind, no matter how much you work on these papers, it isn’t going to settle that nagging little voice in the back of your mind. Now go to bed.” 

Slumping down in defeat, Rye Mash looked at Bloody Velvet, his eyes full of pain. “It’s not fair that you get inside my head like that.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I can’t change what I am… and I guess you can’t change what you’re becoming. I’ll try to be here for you if I can though.” Bloody Velvet shook her head. “I have cleaned the ink off of your face. Now go to bed.” 

“Okay.” 



 

Feeling somewhat amused, Bloody Velvet watched the dark blue-grey earth pony filly. Her night blue mane was whipped around by the wind, but the filly wasn’t paying attention to her mane; no, the entirety of her focus was spent on watching somepony. 

Turning her head, Bloody Velvet looked at Rye Mash for a moment, and then she looked at Mousy once more. Mousy did indeed have a mouse for a cutie mark, a dark mouse with a little pink nose, pink ears, and whiskers. It was an appropriate cutie mark for a sneak thief. 

Ignoring the twitching in her legs, Bloody Velvet tried to enjoy the moment. The sun was shining, the breeze was pleasant, and some filly on the verge of marehood was infatuated with her rescuer. It amused Bloody Velvet a great deal, but there was something to be said about being in distress and having a rescuer show up that coloured your perceptions. 

“Do you like what you see?” Bloody Velvet asked. 

“Huh?” Mousy jumped and she looked around with a guilty expression upon her face. “I don’t know what you mean…” 

“You’ve been staring at him for the past hour while he’s been trying to help Woe learn her letters.” Bloody Velvet looked down at the pair and then back at Mousy. 

“It’s not every day that you see a stallion being so nice to a filly—” 

“A colt. Rye is a colt. And Rye is in that odd place where his body is mature but his mind still needs to grow up a bit… you know, the age where stupidity reigns and a colt does everything he can to impress everypony around him, especially fillies.” 

A sullen frown crept over Mousy’s face. The filly said nothing, but glanced at Bloody Velvet for a full minute before returning her eyes to Rye Mash. Her small frame flexed as she sighed. 

The amusement Bloody Velvet felt turned sour. She was stuck on a ship with not one, but several hot blooded types, two of them being quite young, and there was no offense greater than speaking ill of somepony’s crush. She could feel Mousy’s growing annoyance and anger. Of course, in Mousy’s eyes, her handsome rescuer could do no wrong. Bloody Velvet rolled her eyes. 

“He’s not stupid, he was brilliant! He pulled those guns out and he took control of the situation… they tried to surround him, and Rye warned them in a very polite way that they were about to die. He had spectacular manners… and when the trouble started, he blew the padlock right off of the kangaroo’s cage and she got out and Rye could have killed all of them, but he was so dashing… he only killed a few of them and he was very polite about it and then he made good his escape, taking me and Oola with him.” Staring at Rye, Mousy heaved another sigh, her ribs expanding and then contracting. As she sighed, her eyelashes fluttered like little butterflies in the breeze. 

Oola and I, Bloody Velvet thought to herself, feeling a growing feeling of annoyance. The sense of infatuation was almost nauseating at this point for Bloody Velvet. Mousy knew almost nothing about Rye Mash, other than he had rescued her, that he was kind, and that he was good at getting out of a tight spot. She turned away from the earth pony and looked at The Whalefish, which flew ahead of The Apogee. Bloody Velvet didn’t even know how to begin to explain to Mousy that the filly had competition from another admirer with a strong crush; Starjammer was far more suave and sophisticated, not to mention that Starjammer knew how to play the game better. 

“Velvet?” 

“What?” Bloody Velvet returned her attention to Mousy, expecting more inane drivel. 

“I overheard you and Captain Spyglass talking about piloting this ship when it is chasing the beacon on the other ship. I know that pilots have shifts and somepony will have to look after the wheel if we go flying off to do something… could I learn how to fly?” 

Taken aback, Bloody Velvet was not at all prepared for this question, and all of her sarcasm died in her throat. This was unexpected and Bloody Velvet had to think about how to reply to the earth pony filly. 

“This is a big deal for me… I can start a new life. I don’t have to be the way I was. I was trapped before… but now… now I can do anything. I can be a sneak thief because I want to, not because I have to. And I don’t have to do bad things… at least I hope I don’t. I don’t want to be just a thief. I don’t want that to be the first thing ponies think about when my name is said. I’m also a dancer, but nopony ever thinks of that when I’m mentioned. I’m a passable singer too, but nopony ever thinks of that when they think of me, either.” 

Bloody Velvet’s hard edge softened and she felt herself warming to the filly. “When you come on a ship, and you take to the sky or the sea, you leave your old life behind. That’s why ponies join the crew. Out here, you make a name for yourself and you can be anypony that you want to be. I was a soft spoken noble at one point in my life, a mare named Cerise Velvet. I was genteel. I had the best education. I had everything… but,  I was also walked all over, trampled upon, and treated like dirt. I was only good for bearing foals. But here… in the open skies…” Bloody Velvet looked at the blue skies and the clouds all around her. “Out here in the open skies, I became Bloody Velvet, the terror lurking in the clouds. At home, Cerise Velvet was a quiet mare that could be bullied into submission. But Bloody Velvet has command. She has power. She can pilot a ship, she can fight, she commands respect from the entire crew. Out here, anything is possible.” 

“Anything?” Mousy turned and looked Velvet in the eye. 

“Anything,” Bloody Velvet replied. “Right now, you are an earth pony that is flying, soaring through the domain of the pegasi. You’re already doing the impossible.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Mousy smiled and then turned to look at Rye Mash. “I know what I want.” 

Heaving a sigh of frustration, Bloody Velvet stormed away in a huff, frustrated beyond measure by the infatuated filly. 
	
	
	
> Chapter 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Rye, you look terrible, how about you taking a break for a day or two?” Captain Spyglass, worried for his cabin colt, studied Rye Mash’s red, bleary eyes. 

The Whalefish and The Apogee were making good time on their way to Sable Blanc. The skies were clear, there had been no trouble, it was smooth sailing, which made Spyglass happy. But he feared the boredom was having a terrible effect upon his cabin colt. 

“Salad Days is a major buyer… I don’t know who he is, but he keeps showing up. He was a member of House Avarice I think… I can’t be sure. He was chased out of Equestria and then chased out of the Shire Isles. His current whereabouts are unknown,” Rye mumbled. 

Captain Spyglass pondered Rye’s words. Rye had been combing through the remaining ledgers and bits of communication that had not been given to the Broker. This information that Rye was gleaning was powerful, dangerous, and perhaps even useful. 

“Near as I can tell, Peck and Paw are two of Salad Days’ flunkies and maybe also a project. I think. I don’t know, it’s confusing. I think they might be griffons.” Rye Mash eased his haunches down to the deck and sat down, his mane whipping around his face as he did so. “I have determined one thing though. They are part of the plot to take down Princess Celestia and find some way to remove her from power. Of this, I am certain, call it a gut feeling, even though I don’t have hard evidence just yet.” 

“I’m not sure you can remove an immortal alicorn from power,” Captain Spyglass said. 

“Sure you can. It is said that Princess Celestia had a sister. I don’t know her name, but there was a fight between the sisters or something. Hard to say what happened, it’s all legend now. There is no sister to be found, so that suggests that alicorns can either be killed or somehow locked away.” Rye Mash shook his head. “Lace Collar talked about it a few times.” 

Feeling unsettled, Captain Spyglass didn’t like this line of reasoning. Stories of Princess Celestia’s sister were just stories to him. He had no way of knowing if such a sister existed or what had happened to her. 

“Where are the alicorns anyway? Gone… Princess Celestia had to come from somewhere. She had to be born. So where are her parents? Dead is my guess… I reckon there are ways to kill alicorns or remove them from power. Princess Celestia is the only one that exists. The last one. Somepony would have some serious bragging rights if they could claim that they killed the last alicorn—” 

“Mister Mash, this line of reasoning is terrible.” Captain Spyglass felt a cold chill spike into his spine. “Anyways, Mister Mash, please, you have earned your salt and then some. Please, take a break for a day or two. Get some rest. Spend time with your crew mates. Have some fun. You are beginning to worry me.” 

“Okay, fine,” Rye Mash replied, sounding very much like a scolded foal. 

“If you must read or commit to acts of self improvement, read a cookbook or that book about wound care given to you,” Captain Spyglass suggested. The captain smiled and then glanced around the deck. “Now if you will excuse me, I must go and check on Miss Mousy. I understand that she shows some small potential as a pilot.” 



 

“You know Starjammer, you have the most perfect grey eyes I think I’ve ever seen,” Bloody Velvet said as she peered into said grey eyes. Grey as a winter’s day. Grey as stormclouds. 

Starjammer, grinning, squirmed away from Bloody Velvet and then resumed his walk down the narrow passage, his head held high and his hips rocking back and forth in a very feminine manner. 

Shuddering from her Shivers, Bloody Velvet enjoyed the show. Starjammer was something worth watching. Pristine white pelt, silvery blonde mane and tail… and those perfect grey eyes. There were nobles, and there were nobles. Starjammer had fantastic breeding. There was nothing common about him at all, and just looking at him made Bloody Velvet feel like a giddy little filly on her first day of school. She kept watching, hoping that Starjammer’s flowing tail would swish to one side long enough for her to catch a glimpse of— 

“Whatcha looking at?” 

Startled, Bloody Velvet let out a faint squeak. Turning her head, she looked down at Woe Betide. Bloody Velvet’s mouth went as dry as the desert in the span of a second and she didn’t know how to respond to the filly’s inquiry. Avoiding the issue would only bring more questions. Knowing Woe Betide as well as Bloody Velvet did, she decided to be honest. 

“I was trying to catch a peek at Starjammer’s goodies as he walked away.” 

The filly rolled her eyes and let out a disgusted snort. “Pervert,” she said as she turned to walk away. She tucked her tail between her legs and trotted off, glancing over her shoulder at Bloody Velvet. “Stop looking at me.” 

The absurdity of the situation lingered in the air for a moment and then, surprising herself, Bloody Velvet began to laugh. She threw back her head and guffawed at the series of events and their ever so strange conclusion.



 

“We have a ship,” Bloody Velvet said to Rye in a voice loud enough to be heard over the wind. “Still a good distance away. I’m about to wink over and let Captain Spyglass know. I don’t know what’s on it, but I sense misery even from this distance.” 

“Nuts, here I was, enjoying myself, and these lovely days of not killing something.” Rye Mash’s face twisted into a scowl and his red, bloodshot eyes narrowed. 

“Rye, you look terrible… you really need some sleep,” Bloody Velvet said. 

“I can’t sleep… and you know why.” Rye Mash looked at The Whalefish. “You had better go tell the captain. I’m ready already. I’m bored. Let’s get this over with.” 



 

“Coal steamer by the looks of it, you can see the smokestacks but no smoke. Ship’s not moving.” Spyglass pulled his telescope away from his eye and then slid it back into his broad black sash. 

“Feels like a slaver ship. Lots of misery. All equine though.” Bloody Velvet looked at the pegasus beside her. “Dead in the air. Not moving. I don’t like this.” 

“Might be a trap.” Spyglass gave a wise nod to the unicorn at his side. “She’s not a big ship, maybe a fifty footer. If there are no griffons, minotaurs, or diamond dogs, we might have found ourselves a slave ship run by ponies… and if that is the case… you know what we must do.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Bloody Velvet heaved a weary sigh. “No quarter, no surrender, no prisoners. We have a reputation to maintain.” 

“Get ready for a fight!” Captain Spyglass commanded. 



 

The ship made no effort to protect itself. No cannons were fired. No pegasi swarmed off of the deck. No defensive spells or offensive spells happened. There was nothing, and this worried Rye Mash a great deal. 

Even more worrisome were the foals visible on the deck as they approached. It confused Rye a great deal. If this was a trap, it was an elaborate one. Carried by Spyglass because Skeeter was still unwell, Rye Mash tried not to think about the fact that it was over a thousand feet down to the ocean below. 

When his hooves hit the deck, he was greeted by wide staring eyes. Rye kept his guns away as he tried to figure out what was going on. This was something he wasn’t prepared for. He heard a grunt of confusion from Oola as she was set down beside him. It had taken several pegasi to carry her over. 

“Hello,” one of the foals said in a small voice. A young colt, he stepped forwards and looked up at Captain Spyglass. “Are you here to help us?” 

After taking a moment to gather his wits, Captain Spyglass took a deep breath and then replied with a question. “What happened here?” 

The colt, who looked a little fearful, looked around at his fellow foals. “We were taken from our home. We come from the Shetlands. We were rounded up and taken during the sweeps.” 

“Where are your captors?” Captain Spyglass asked, feeling a cautious sense of optimism that this excursion might end without killing. 

“They all got sick and died,” the colt replied. “A few of us had the pony pox when we were taken. I think they got it.” 

“Hmm.” Spyglass studied the colt.

“Captain?” Rye Mash said in low voice. “I’ve had the pony pox. We Shetlanders get it and we get a little sick, it covers us in little sores and blisters, but it doesn’t kill us very often. Mainlanders though… ponies not from the Shetlands… it’s known to kill. High fever, vomiting, and the explosive splatters.” 

“Oh dear,” Captain Spyglass gasped. “Thank you, Mister Mash. Explosive splatters. Lovely.” The pegasus looked down at the colt. “Is anypony sick now?” 

“Just the captain’s second mate. He’s locked himself into the captain’s quarters. I think he’s dying,” the colt replied. As he spoke, more foals crept forward, giving hopeful looks to Captain Spyglass and his crew. 

“I take it everypony else is dead?” Spyglass looked around the deck at the starving foals. He could see far too many ribs, signs of dehydration, and abuse. He swallowed his rage and kept his calm, cool demeanour. “Mister Mash, since you are likely immune, would you mind paying a visit to the second mate?” 

“I’d love to,” Rye replied. He looked down at the foals. “Can one of you take me to him? I’m a Shetlander… my name is Rye Mash.” 

“Follow me,” a filly said in a raspy, hoarse voice. 



 

The door was locked. This was a bit of a problem and Rye Mash wished that he had thought ahead. He stood there, feeling a little stupid, not quite knowing what to do. He glanced down at the filly and then looked at the door. It was a very sturdy door. Of course it was a sturdy door. You didn’t want slaves getting in and murdering you in your sleep. 

“Move! Outathaway!” 

Rye stepped back, squeezing against the wall as Oola came barreling forward through the narrow hallway. Oola, a kangaroo, was probably immune to pony pox. Rye watched as the kangaroo sized up the door. 

“The captain said you’d be stymied by the door, runt,” Oola said. 

“Rye—” 

“Runt,” Oola said as she reached out and pinched Rye Mash’s cheek, giving it a good tug. “Aye, stand back, I can have this open in a jiffy!” 

Rye moved back and the filly followed. As he watched, Oola leaned back, balanced upon her long tail, and she slammed both of her hind legs into the door. It was ripped from its hinges and fell to the floor with a clatter. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rye Mash said as he stepped through the doorway and over the fallen door. “Stay outside of the door, little filly, we adults are about to do some very bad things. Oola, follow me if you will.” 



 

The room reeked of urine and feces. There was a pony in the bed, a pegasus, and he did nothing but stare at his visitors. Rye Mash crossed the room, his head high, his attitude cocky, and Oola followed along at his side. 

“Well, good day, sir. It seems that you have gone and caught yourself a case of the pony pox. How ya feeling?” Rye asked in a chipper voice. 

The pegasus groaned but did not reply. 

His eyes narrowing, Rye took a step forward. “I’m going to ask you questions. You know how this works. No sense in threatening you. Where to begin… where to begin.” Rye Mash glanced at Oola, saw her nod, and then asked, “Who do you work for?” 

“Piss off,” the pegasus replied. 

“Tsk tsk,” Rye clucked with his tongue. “What a pity. So much for being civil… Oola, make him screech.” 

“Aye, my pleasure,” Oola replied as she stepped forwards. 

Reaching down, the kangaroo grabbed the pegasus by the left front leg. She gave a good yank and then began twisting. Grinning, Oola gave another sharp yank on the twisted limb, and it popped from the socket, causing the pegasus to whimper. She gave another yank, heard a whimper, and then let go.

“That was not a screech,” Rye said in a somewhat annoyed voice. 

“Whataya want me to do about it?” Oola looked down at Rye and shrugged. 

“Who do you work for?” Rye asked in a low, flat monotone. “I am losing my patience. My hired help was told to make you screech, and she failed to do so. Now I am in a sour mood.” 

Reaching back, Oola then dropped a left hook upon the side of the pegasus’ skull. “You got me chewed out by me boss, you toerag!” Oola pulled back her clenched fist and made ready for another strike. 

“Tell me who you work for,” Rye demanded. 

“Yer mother,” the pegasus said in a weak, wavering voice. 

“Oola, here is your chance to redeem yourself. Make him screech.” Rye stepped back, his nostrils crinkling from the stench coming off of the bed. 

“I think I know what’ll make him screech.” Oola grabbed the pegasus by the wing. “That’s just rude, by the way, talking about somebody’s mum.” Oola began twisting the wing, applying more and more pressure. She kept going when she saw the pegasus’ eyes open wide. There was a loud popping sound as the wing was dislocated and Oola smiled when she heard a screech. It wasn’t much of a screech, kind of pathetic, but there was no satisfaction like a job well done. 

“Now, tell me who you work for, or I shall ask Oola to make you sing. In Canterlot, I loved to hear the voices of the castrati singers, until I learned what the word castrati meant.” Rye Mash’s eyes glittered with rage as he thought about all of the foals on the deck and there were plenty more belowdecks, no doubt. This had happened to him, and now, the memory was fresh in his mind. It was like ripping open a scab to let the infection out. It took every ounce of will that Rye possessed to maintain a calm outward appearance. 

“Piss off—” 

“Oola, I cannot abide his enduring attitude of defiance,” Rye said, shaking his head. 

Scowling, Oola reached down, grabbed the pegasus, flipped him over, ignored his struggles, ignored the caked on filth, and snatched the pegasus by his testicles. With a yank, she hoisted the pegasus out of the bed, picking him up by his balls. She then slapped the pegasus in the face as he squirmed and made feeble kicks. The room filled with a high pitched siren wail as the pegasus dangled by his balls. 

“Last time!” Rye shouted. 

“House Evening Star!” the pegasus squeaked in a shrill, high pitched voice. 

“And where were you going?” Rye demanded. 

“Griffonholm!” the pegasus replied. 

“You disgust me!” Snarling, Rye looked up at Oola. “Drop him.” 

“With pleasure.” Oola gave one final fierce squeeze to the testicles she held in her left paw and then let go, dropping the pegasus to the floor. She stepped back, a lewd grin on her face. 

Pulling out a pistol, Rye Mash pressed it against the pegasus’ skull and pulled the trigger, causing the pegasus’ brains to go spurting out of the other side of his head. 

“I need to wash me paws, I do. I feel dirty,” Oola said. 
	
	
	
> Chapter 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye Mash took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to calm him. He looked down at the deck, staring for a moment, and then looked up at Captain Spyglass, his eyes pleading for some kind of reassurance. He drew another shuddering breath, shook his head, and then cleared his throat. 

“Mister Mash, it is not a big loss. I am certain we will find a few helpful bits of documentation. Please, do try to be calm,” Captain Spyglass said to his cabin colt. 

“We have to take them home,” Rye Mash blurted out. 

Captain Spyglass stood still, unmoving, staring at his cabin colt. He sighed, looking thoughtful, and after a long moment, he shook his head. “We can’t do that. The Shetlands are too far away. The resources needed for that length of a trip would be—” 

“We need to take them home!” Rye shouted, his voice cracking as he struggled to contain his emotion. He took a step towards his captain, his eyes narrow, pleading. “They were stolen just like I was stolen.” 

“And if we took them back, they would just be stolen again, Mister Mash. What’s done is done.” Captain Spyglass’ eyes narrowed and his ears splayed out sideways. “Mister Mash, we will help them, I give you my word. In Fancy, there is a sizable population of Clan Pickled. They have wineries and vast tracts of farmland. They are a regional power. I daresay they will be better off in Fancy.” 

“Okay,” Rye Mash replied, relenting. 

Captain Spyglass looked around the deck, hopeful for a better future for the foals that had been recovered, worried about disease, and feeling concerned for his cabin colt, who appeared to be under significant stress. “Mister Mash, I assure you, Fancy will be a very good place for them. I know that this is difficult for you, but I do hope that you will trust me.” 

Rye Mash replied in the form of a sigh. “I do.” 

“Please, go search the cabin for anything useful. Let me know if you find anything,” Captain Spyglass said to Rye Mash. 



 

The corpse was now gone, but the filth remained, the bed a sanitation nightmare. There was only scant documentation to be found. A few bills of sale, a letter, an agreement with the official seal of House Evening Star, and a shipping invoice that made no mention of foals, only resources and ‘foodstuffs’ that were being sold to ‘foreign investors.’ 

Rye Mash worried that he would suffocate upon his rage as he continued to search the cabin. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he worked. He felt hot, as though he had a fever, and he was plagued by nausea. 

There was a crash followed by the splintering of wood as Oola kicked apart a wooden desk. Rye watched as the kangaroo sorted through the wreckage, lifting up the wooden drawers and going over the inside of the desk. 

“Found something,” Oola said as she held up a wooden drawer. 

The sides of the drawer had hidden catch mechanisms to release the drawer from the desk, something that a unicorn might have been able to trigger to pull the drawer out. Hidden on the end of the drawer was a paper envelope secured to the wood, outside of the drawer, the outer part that would have been flush along the inside of the drawer’s housing. 

Rye Mash ripped away the paper. 

It was a tax notification, a document stating that taxes had been paid to House Avarice and with the tax notification was a writ of protection, a piece of paper that promised safe passage if shown to any allies of House Avarice. 

The papers were, by and large, useless. The tax notification was stamped for miscellaneous resources and foreign foodstuffs. There were no names upon the papers. He placed them with the rest of the papers and then looked up at Oola. 

“Thank you,” he said in a raspy voice. 

“You look awful.” Reaching down, Oola grabbed Rye Mash and with no real effort at all, she lifted him up, holding him up at eye level, her hands gripping him just below his forelegs, against his ribs. “You ain’t slept in a while and you look terrible.” 

“I’m angry,” Rye Mash said as he dangled in Oola’s grasp. 

“Fancy a shag to feel better?” Oola asked. 

Rye Mash shook his head. “No thank you, Oola. It’s nothing personal against you, I just don’t think it would make me feel better.” 

“It’d make me feel better,” Oola said, a grin creeping along her features. “If you won’t shag me, you should shag somebody. How about little Miss Mousy? I bet we could get her drunk. Or if you are in the mood for buggery, we could get little Miss Priss into the bed with ya… Starjammer prolly wouldn’t need much in the way of booze to get him agreeable.” 

“Oola, thank you for helping me today… I know it was dirty work but—” 

“Oh, I enjoyed my work. You ever need a hired goon in the future and I’m all yours.” Oola set Rye Mash down upon the floor, patted him on his head, and then leaned back on her long tail. “Think we’re done here?” 

“I think so, Oola,” Rye replied. 



 

Towed behind The Whalefish, the captured vessel soared through the starry sky. The foals, now made as comfortable as possible, most of them were below decks, sleeping away the night. A few were awake though, prowling the deck, older foals who looked after the smaller ones. 

Standing guard on the deck, Rye Mash stood, his cloak wrapped around his body. He stood silent, almost unmoving, remaining upon the captured vessel to look after what he felt was precious cargo. 

Alone with his thoughts, Rye Mash thought about when he had been taken in the sweeps all those years ago. Stolen away from his mother, beaten, humiliated, almost broken, and then all of the years of being told how worthless he was, how easily he could be replaced. How lucky he had been to have been taken, to have been lifted up out of the muck and brought to civilisation. How privileged he was, how blessed he was. 

Perhaps he had been lucky. Rye Mash considered the fate of these foals. They were being shipped to Griffonholm… as food. It was almost unbelieveable. It seemed so far fetched, yet here he was, sitting on a vessel filled with proof. 

Worthless proof that would do nothing. Accomplish nothing. Some ponies were just too powerful. House Avarice followed the golden rule. They had the gold, they made the rules. For a long time, Rye Mash had believed the lie. That he wasn’t a slave, he was a servant, and he was paying a debt for his ‘rescue.’ 

Gritting and grinding his teeth, Rye Mash could scarcely contain his rage. 



 

Sable Blanc was considered one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The beach that stretched along the coast consisted of white sand. Almost every building in Sable Blanc was made out of white adobe. Rolling hills extended away from the coastline, hills covered in vineyards for as far as the eye could see. 

The city by the sea was a mixed community, filled with ponies, zebras, and colony of minotaurs that maintained the fishing fleet. The city had a natural harbour of sorts, a wall of jutting, spiky rocks, some of which were almost a hundred feet tall. On a small island at the mouth of the harbour, there was a fortress with cannons, towers, and a beautiful white lighthouse. 

As the trio of vessels approached Sable Blanc, two swift moving airships rose from the fortress to greet them in the air. Small vessels that bristled with guns. Being a coastal city, Sable Blanc had to protect its interests and its citizens, and no vessels approached without inspection. 



 

“Hello Chapelwood,” Captain Spyglass said to the pegasus landing on the deck. “It has been a while since we met last.” 

“Hello Spyglass, you old pirate,” Chapelwood replied in a voice that had a thick accent. 

“You wound me, old friend.” Spyglass bowed his head and extended his wings, showing that he was unarmed and had no hidden weapons. 

“I see you captured another vessel,” Chapelwood said to Spyglass. 

“Some of yours, actually.” Spyglass waited a second for his words to sink in before he continued. “Clan Pickled. They were being sold as foodstuffs and were on their way to Griffonholm.” 

“Feckin’ buggery.” Seeing Bloody Velvet, Chapelwood scowled. “Forgive me.” 

“Nothing to forgive. I’ve heard worse… living among pirates.” Bloody Velvet smiled at Chapelwood. “How are you Woody? How are the wives?” 

“Bitchy,” Chapelwood replied. “I married one Shetland mare and she’s ruined all the meek little Fancy mares I’ve collected.” 

Standing beside Captain Spyglass, Bloody Velvet began to chuckle. She made a gesture at the captured vessel. “All foals. The entire lot of them. They’ll need homes.” 

“That can be arranged.” Chapelwood looked over at the vessel. “The vineyards will need workers. I hope you brought me some fine Shetland earth ponies. Nothing, and I mean nothing makes the soil around here favourable like Shetland earth pony hooves.” 

“Plenty of earth ponies,” Spyglass replied. The pegasus, looking serious, peered at his friend. “Some of them are a little sick and half starved. They’ll need some care before being shuffled off to work.” 

“You know that they’ll be looked after.” Chapelwood heaved a sigh. “More and more, Fancy is becoming the new homeland of Clan Pickled. Sometimes I wonder if I should take all of my wealth and my influence and clear those isles myself.” 

“Woody, you and I both know that as bad as it is, those isles are home… and nopony wants to be torn from their home,” Spyglass said to his friend. 

“Those isles are spooky, weird, and awful.” Chapelwood shook his head. 

“I have a Shetlander as my cabin colt. I would introduce you, but he is currently asleep after being awake for several days and standing watch over all of the foals last night.” Spyglass grinned. “You know, Rye Mash reminds me of you, just a little bit. Fearless, devoted—” 

“And murderous?” Chapelwood asked. 

“Perhaps. Just a little,” Spyglass replied. He looked at his fellow pegasus, his expression serious. “There is something about that colt. He has potential. He has done nothing but surprise me. He is quick witted, learns fast, thinks on his hooves, I think you will like him.” 

“If I do, I might have to steal him away. I could use more Regulators.” Chapelwood looked at the crew and then brought his gaze back to Spyglass. “The rules state that no pirates are allowed in Sable Blanc.” Chapelwood made a gesture, pointing towards the fortress. “I have over four hundred bodies swinging in the wind, each one of them pirates. Tell me, any pirates in your crew?” 

Spyglass stepped forwards and looked Chapelwood in the eye. “Not a one.” 

“Good. You all are welcome to stay as visitors in Sable Blanc. Your captain shall inform you of the rules. Do not run afoul of the Regulators. All crimes within the city of Sable Blanc are punished in one of three ways; flogging, death, and being flogged to death. We are just about the most peaceful city on the coast and I will not have my beloved peace disturbed.” 

“Make port!” Captain Spyglass commanded. “Ease in! There’ll be tugs to pull us into port. Make ready, and prepare to take on goods!” 

“I am heading back to The Apogee.” Bloody Velvet looked at Spyglass. “I need to make certain that Mousy understands that any acts of theft will get her flogged or hung.” 

“Check on Mister Mash… I am worried,” Spyglass ordered. 

“Yes sir, I will do so, sir,” Bloody Velvet replied. She waved her hoof, then vanished. 

“Woody, I’ve come for your cheeses… don’t make me sack your beautiful city!” 

“You don’t have the balls!” Chapelwood made a dismissive gesture with his wings. 

“Actually, Woody, before we discuss the cheese trade, there is something else I would like to speak with you about in private… think you could arrange for us to have a quiet, secluded place where we could talk about something that is of utmost importance?” 

“It could be arranged.” Chapelwood’s eyes narrowed. “Are you about to ask me to do something illegal?” 

“Woody, you wound me… I thought we were friends…” 
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rye Mash peeled open his bleary, sleep encrusted eyes. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt shriveled. His lips felt as though they were going to crack. He kicked his legs out of his bunk, hit the floor, and wobbled. 

Faint memories of the nightmare that he had been having lingered. The burlap sack going over his head, the confusing darkness, the feeling of being whipped just to keep him afraid, so he would remain docile and submissive. He shook his head and then his whole body. 

He made his way out of his cabin and stumbled off to the bathroom. He shuffled down the hall, stumbled into the wall, groaned, and tried to regain his balance. He watched a door open and then he saw Bloody Velvet step out into the hall. 

“You’re awake.” 

Rye Mash tried to talk, but his words came out as a hoarse croak, so he nodded. 

“You’ve been asleep for almost eighteen hours. It’s going to be dawn soon.” Bloody Velvet clucked her tongue. “You look awful.” 

Blinking, Rye Mash did not respond. He could not even begin to imagine how awful he might look. He looked at Bloody Velvet and saw Woe Betide wiggle between Bloody Velvet’s legs. The foal was looking up at him. 

“You okay, Rye?” Woe Betide looked up at her rescuer, her eyes wide with worry. 

There was no reply. Rye Mash shuffled off, almost tripping over his front hooves, heading for the bathroom. He failed to get the door open, walked into it, and almost fell over. It took several tries to get the door open. Once inside the bathroom, Rye Mash let out a loud, long moan as he began to relieve himself. 

He did not shut the door behind him. 



 

“I am off on an epic quest… a quest to find breakfast. I shall brave the wilds of this strange new land to find food,” Rye Mash said, sounding a bit more like himself. He held his head high. “I shall go into these wilds to find a delicious meal.” He looked over at Bloody Velvet and Woe Betide. Both were rolling their eyes at him. He looked over at Skeeter instead. “Skeeter… my brave and noble pegasus bodyguard, will you join me?” 

Skeeter nodded. “Yeah… I think I’m feeling up to it.” 

“Where is Starjammer?” Rye asked. 

“He’s sleeping. He was up all night drawing pictures of Oola,” Woe replied. 

“Huh.” This was not the reply that Rye Mash expected. 

“I’m coming with you… will you have me for breakfast?” Mousy heard Bloody Velvet snort. It took a moment, but Mousy realised her mistake. “I mean, uh, um, that did not come out as intended.” Mousy’s ears drooped down against her face. 

“Come with us, Miss Mousy.” Rye Mash made a sweeping bow and then winced. His head was still groggy and bowing made his temples throb. “I shall protect you from ruffians.” 

“Rye Mash, a word, if you will.” Bloody Velvet’s eyebrow raised. “The Regulators here do not tolerate any sort of criminal acts. They have three penalties here… flogging, death, and being flogged to death. Keep your guns in their sheaths. This is a peaceful, safe place. Well, as much as any place can be in this day and age.” 

“I will keep that in mind,” Rye Mash replied. He looked at Bloody Velvet, studying her face. She looked worried. “Do you have any plans?” 

“I am going to take Woe to the beach and we’re going to look for seashells later.” Velvet looked at the foal sitting beside her. “Ready for a day of fun?” 

Woe, who started bouncing in place, upon hearing Bloody Velvet’s words, nodded. “I wanna build a sand castle.” 

“Miss Mousy, Skeeter, if you will accompany me.” Rye Made a gesture with his hoof towards the exit. “Breakfast is my treat. I have plenty of coin. Let’s go have a nice time.” 



 

The city was very white and clean looking. The white adobe buildings almost gleamed in the sun. The white sand sparkled. The streets were filled with ponies pulling carts filled with all manner of goods. Some carts headed for the harbour, other carts headed inland, away from the harbour. Bottles of wine, large cheese wheels, wooden crates, alchemical goods, there was a little bit of everything here. 

Standing on the wooden boardwalk, Rye Mash closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking it all in, the wind blowing through his mane and his tail, whipping it out beside him. He cut a dashing figure in the wind. 

“I wonder what passes for breakfast around here,” Mousy asked as the trio walked. 

Skeeter shrugged, using his wings, and kept walking, his eyes wide as he took in everything. Sable Blanc was an amazing city. In the distance, a bell began to ring and Skeeter craned his head to try and see where the ringing was coming from. 

“Skeeter, you going to be able to eat anything solid?” Rye asked. 

The blue pegasus nodded. “I’m feeling better. I just have to eat slowly.” 

“Good to hear.” Rye paused and looked around. “Over there. That looks like a cafe. There are a bunch of ponies sitting around and drinking coffee.” 

“Something smells good,” Mousy said, holding her head high and sniffing. The earth pony was grinning from ear to ear as she took in everything around her. She also had a good chance to work on Rye Mash. The earth pony filly wondered what the sea breeze was doing to her mane. 

Skeeter, who had signed on to see the world, had never seen anything like this. There were hardly any straight lines. Everything was smooth, flowing curves. The adobe buildings had no edges, no sharp angles. The tops of the buildings were graceful, curved domes and sweeping, flowing arches. The windows were all circular or oval. There were no rectangular or square windows to be seen. Even the doors had odd shapes. Keyhole shaped doors. Oval doors. Doors with arched tops. Some places didn’t even have doors; beaded curtains separated the inside from the outside. The whitewashed adobe buildings almost looked like shaped clouds, and something about this appealed to the pegasus. 



 

“What passes for a local breakfast around here?” Mousy asked the waitress. 

The waitress, a unicorn, gave Mousy a smile and replied in a heavy Shetland’s accent, “It’d be easier to show you than tell you. Would ye like the full breakfast, the light breakfast, or the farmer’s breakfast?” 

“I’m starved. I slept for almost a day. I’m assuming the farmer’s breakfast is the one with the most food?” Rye asked, his eyebrow raised at a rakish angle. 

“Aye… yer a Shetlander.” The waitress smiled. “And yer kinda cute too… ye come here to stay?” 

“Ma’am, I just came here for the breakfast.” Rye rested his hooves upon the solid wooden table and looked over at Skeeter. “Care to gamble?” 

The pegasus nodded. “I’ll take the light breakfast.” 

“The farmer’s breakfast for me,” Rye said as he settled into his comfortable chair. 

“Farmer’s breakfast for me as well,” Mousy added. Her ears perked forwards. “And tea. Do you have tea? If not, I can settle for coffee.” 

“We have tea. Would ye like black tea or breakfast tea?” The waitress waited for a reply, her eyes locked on Mousy. 

“Breakfast tea,” Mousy replied. “It comes pre-served, correct? I’m a bit clumsy.” 

“Mousy, I will serve you tea,” Rye offered. “Have no worries.” 

Mousy’s heart began to dance a funky rumba in her barrel and she batted her eyelashes at Rye as a way to say thank you. She watched the waitress jot everything down on a notepad. 

“Two farmers’ spreads, a grazer plate, and enough breakfast tea for three!” the waitress shouted. 

“You have any sort of juice?” Rye asked. 

“Orange juice!” the waitress added. 

“Perfect.” Rye sat back in his chair, feeling rather content. So far, this was the perfect day. He yawned, letting out a faint whine. This is just what he needed. A nice relaxing day. A day without violence. 



 

Seeing the platter set in front of him, Rye’s eyes bulged. He didn’t even recognise most of the food on the platter. There were plenty of melon wedges, but he didn’t recognise all of the different types. There was cantaloupe, Rye recognised that, but there were also green melon wedges, something yellow, and something blue with green seeds. Orange wedges lay in a pile. There were lots of grapes of different colours. Some kind of yellow-orange fruit that looked like a cherry. In the middle of it all there was a bowl of something white and on a separate platter, there was some kind of flat, chewy looking bread, piled high. 

“Bon appétit!” the waitress said as she departed to look after her other customers. 

“I don’t even know what this is,” Skeeter whispered to Rye. “And I don’t care. It looks good.” The pegasus leaned forwards and stuck his muzzle down into the bowl filled with fluffy white stuff. He pulled up a moment later, licking his lips. 

“What is it?” Mousy asked. 

“It’s like the thickest, creamiest whip cream ever,” Skeeter replied. “I think you dip your fruit into it.” The pegasus picked up a piece of melon in his teeth, dipped it into the bowl, covering the piece of melon with whipped cream, and then threw his head back to get the piece of melon into his mouth. He chewed and closed his eyes. The pegasus chewed on his uninjured side, doing so slowly and with great care. 

Rye began serving tea, pouring it into cups that already had milk, and he added a few lumps of some light, toasty brown sugar. He watched as Mousy tore into her food, dipping bits of fruit into her massive bowl of cream and then gobbling them down with gusto. Mousy and Skeeter didn’t have magic to help them eat, to help them stay neat and tidy. Rye didn’t care, either. He was enjoying himself. He took a drink of orange juice; it was thick and pulpy. 

“These slices of fruit are star shaped… how weird,” Mousy said between bites. 

“I have no idea what these pieces of bread are, but they’re good,” Skeeter said as he pulled one off of his side plate. He pinned the bread between his hooves and gingerly tore off a piece, mindful of his healing face. “They’re warm.” 

Rye picked up a piece of the bread, tossed a few chunks of fruit into the middle, and then added a dollop of the thick, heavy whipped cream. He rolled up the whole thing and took a bite as he watched Mousy sample her tea, sticking her puckered lips down into the cup. 

“What are these?” Skeeter asked with his mouth full. “I like these a lot.” 

“Crepes,” the waitress said as she walked by. 

Mousy, holding a spoon in her lips, scooped fruit onto a crepe, then added some whipped cream. She put the spoon down, dropping it from her lips, and it clattered to the table. She had trouble folding it while trying to use her lips, and covered her snoot in heavy cream. No longer caring if she got it perfect, Mousy tore away a big bite, smacked her lips, and began chewing. 

“Oh, I could live like this,” Rye said between bites. He leaned back in his chair and chewed. This was a feast for the senses. Not only was the food delicious, but the smell, the texture, the contrasts of different types of food in his mouth—the closeness of his friends. He glanced over at Mousy. Was she his friend? He supposed that she was. He saw her glance at him and give him a little smirking smile. She had whipped cream on her nose. 

“What are we doing after breakfast?” Skeeter asked. 

“I have no idea,” Rye replied. 

Skeeter swallowed. “We could go to the beach.” 

“Or wesh coulf goshee fee sheeshes,” Mousy suggested with her mouth full. 

“I’ll confess, I’m curious about cheese.” Skeeter looked over at Mousy. She was an enthusiastic eater.

“Might I recommend a climb to the top of the lighthouse?” The waitress smiled as she paused near the table. “Yer in need of more juice. I’ll bring some.” 

“Thank you.” Rye made a mental note to add a good tip. He looked at his companions, Skeeter first, then Mousy, and then said, “Why not do everything we can?” 
	
	
> Chapter 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The view from the lighthouse had been spectacular, well worth the many stairs one had to climb to reach it. Sable Blanc was many things to many ponies, but Rye Mash would remember it for its beauty. Now, having left the lighthouse, Rye followed Mousy, who led the way, the curious earth pony eager to see the sights. Skeeter followed along after Rye, looking a bit pained but sticking it out. 

Sable Blanc was a free city, a freedom kept safe by the well armed and well trained Regulators. As they walked, Rye Mash saw signs informing the public of safe places to take shelter in should there be an attack. Heavily fortified cellars, bunkers, even the lighthouse was fortified and quite solid looking. Some of the houses had rooftop gardens, patches of green that grew fruits and vegetables, while other rooftops had cannons, mortars, and other forms of artillery. 

The companions kept going, moving through the city, until Rye Mash came across something that made him pause. A shop had a peculiar sign over the doorway, a wooden sign with two black pistols crossed that much to Rye’s surprise, looked an awful lot like his cutie mark. Saying nothing, Rye Mash headed for the door, with Skeeter groaning and Miss Mousy looking a bit apprehensive. 



 

Inside the shop there were only a few guns, but what the store lacked in quantity, they made up for with quality. There were very few pistols, much to Rye’s disappointment, but there were many rifles on display. A short minotaur cow was sitting on a stool behind the counter. She wore glasses, the pale gold frames glinting, and Rye could see that she was sizing him up. 

Without warning, Rye Mash became transfixed, almost as if held in place by a spell. He stood before a glass case and inside was a long rifle, it had to be at least two yards in length, and it was scoped, much like his longshot pistol. It was a beautiful weapon with a well polished cherry wood stock that seemed to gleam with its own inner light. The brass scope went almost the full length of the barrel. Seeing it filled Rye with a strange feeling of lust. He wanted to stroke it, he wanted to rub his cheek against it, more than anything else, he wanted the rifle—but he understood that the rifle would be useless to him. Pistols were far better for Rye’s purposes, he knew that, he accepted it without reservation, and he mourned the fact that he would not be walking out of the shop with the rifle. 

Skeeter had gone off to look at leg guns; weapons made for ponies without magic that strapped to the leg and had a long cord held in the mouth to operate the matchlock. Rye didn’t see the practicality in these weapons, sure, a pegasus or an earth pony could fire the gun, but who would reload the weapon for them? It might be possible for them to reload, but how long would it take? It just didn’t seem like a very good idea. Pegasi and earth ponies got the short end of the stick when it came to being able to manipulate objects. 

With a forlorn sigh, Rye tore himself away from the display case with the long rifle. He moved towards the counter, meeting the gaze of the minotaur cow. She was wearing a long dark blue dress that hung loose from her shoulders. She seemed pretty enough, heavyset, stocky, with thick, well muscled arms that were bare, her dress having no sleeves. She was busty, something that Rye found a little strange, having mammaries so high up on the body. Perhaps nature had done that to allow her to balance so she could walk in a bipedal fashion. 

“Hello, Gunslinger,” the minotaur said as Rye Mash approached. “You may call me Miss Tickles. Don’t try anything funny or I will have you ground into sausage. Nothing may be touched or examined unless you show me some coin.” 

“Miss Tickles, I have coin… quite a bit of coin actually,” Rye Mash replied, his eyebrow raising. “Coin I would very much like to spend in your establishment, should I find what I am looking for.” 

“Rye, do you really need more guns?” Mousy asked. 

“One can never be too wealthy, too good looking, or too well armed,” Rye replied. 

Miss Tickles nodded, a grin splitting her face. Rye could see that the minotaur was studying him, her eyes looking him up and down, taking him in, eyeing his gear. He could see intelligence in her eyes. Her hand twitched and her thick, meaty fingers began to drum on the counter. 

“I’m guessing that you do a lot of fighting in cramped quarters… would you say that you are, how shall we say, a boarding specialist?” Miss Tickles’ smile vanished and she became all business. 

Rye narrowed his eyes, cottoning on to what was being said. “Yes… I facilitate boarding operations and clear obstructions. My job requires the use of pistol and shotgun, some of these obstructions are quite stubborn.” 

“I see.” Miss Tickles nodded as she reached up to adjust her eyeglasses. “I cannot help but notice that you have two shotguns. Those are both heavy and they take a while to reload. Would you be interested in having four shotguns that only take up the space of one?” 

“What do you mean?” Rye, his curiousity pricked, stepped closer towards the counter. 

Reaching beneath the counter, Miss Tickles went to pull something out. There was a heavy clunk, a thump of wood on wood, and then a thud of metal on wood. She lifted out what appeared to be a portable cannon and set it down upon the counter. 

Rye whistled, Mousy gasped, and Skeeter sucked in his breath. 

It was a very strange looking gun, with four barrels packed into a massive square lump of metal. The barrel assembly was one solid piece of metal with four holes bored into its length. It wasn’t very long, had a heavy wooden stock suitable for smashing skulls into pulp, it was, overall, a heavy looking and ungainly weapon. Each of the four openings at the end of the square barrel was large enough to fit a tangerine inside. 

“This is a prototype design, a four barreled scattergun. You load up all four barrels—” 

Rye watched as Miss Tickles placed her massive hand on the barrels. 

“—and when you pull the trigger, one barrel fires. Then, the entire barrel assembly rotates, bringing the next barrel into place over the firing mechanism. Pull the trigger and this barrel fires, the barrel assembly rotates, and the next barrel is made ready to fire. With four quick pulls of the trigger, one can clear the deck and facilitate boarding.” 

“I like it.” Rye breathed the words, his eyes wide, and he felt a sharp spike of arousal, much like he had with the long gun. With a four barreled scattergun he could cause a lot of damage. This was a portable deck clearing cannon. Loaded down with nails, silverware, or grape shot, Rye knew that he could end most fights before they started. With that reasoning, Rye figured that he could save lives with this fearsome weapon. 

“It comes with a custom made, artisan tooled leather sheath that is unique to this gun. The barrels are made of the finest steel, the stock is made of bubinga wood from the Sea of Grass, a hard, heavy wood that does a fine job of absorbing recoil. All of the rest of the hardware is brass. The fact that it is heavy is proof of quality.” 

“I have quite a collection of coins—” 

“And two shotguns that you won’t need anymore. I’m certain we can work out payment.” Miss Tickle’s voice was confident, husky, and maybe even a little suggestive. “Pull that gun of yours out of its sheath and let’s have a look at it…” 



 

“That cow was flirting with you,” Mousy said as she walked beside Rye. 

“It was just business,” Rye replied, feeling a bit sweaty, itchy, and uncomfortable. 

“When she kept leaning over the counter, you could see down the front of her dress.” Skeeter’s voice was soft and a bit muffled as he tried to speak without disturbing his wound. 

“Well of course, she was trying to show off her assets.” Mousy seemed irritated, cross, and out of sorts. “She was trying to distract you two thick headed louts and she was doing a fine job.” 

“I was looking at the shotgun—” 

“Yes, I know.” Mousy sounded disheartened and a bit disgusted. She wasn’t certain how she was going to get Rye’s attention now unless she covered herself in a fine dress made out of firearms. She turned to look at Rye and saw his new gun hanging from his right side. It was a massive contraption and it was almost the length of his body. 

“The breeze is nice,” Skeeter said, changing the subject. “Hey, that shop has saltwater taffy… who likes saltwater taffy?” The sky blue pegasus gave his companions a curious look, then an expression of disappointment settled over his face. “I don’t know if I could chew that.” 

Mousy, sounding disappointed, but not about the taffy, suggested, “Let’s just keep looking around.” 



 

The white sand of the beach fascinated Rye, he had never seen anything quite like it. He had seen chalk cliffs, and sand coloured sand, but the white sands of Sable Blanc were as beautiful as they were exotic. The sand was fine and felt smooth when touched, rather than coarse and gritty. 

Bloody Velvet was giving Woe Betide an impromptu magic lesson on the beach and little Woe was using her telekinesis to manipulate sand. The one eyed filly appeared to be having quite a good time. Skeeter had laid down in the warm sand, his head resting on Rye’s folded up cloak. The pegasus was sleeping. Miss Mousy was playing in the surf, darting back and forth as the waves came crashing in and prancing around. 

Rye was reminded of Canterlot. Not the city architecture, but the peaceful quiet. So far, there had been no violence today. No gunshots to be heard. No fights, no nothing. Sable Blanc was peaceful to the point of utter boredom, and Rye found himself enjoying it, sort of. 

“You look a little better, Rye,” Bloody Velvet said as her student shaped the sand she was holding into a sphere that was more egg shaped than spherical. “The anger is a problem, I’ll admit. When I really began to learn what was going on, my anger almost consumed me.” 

Lifting his head, Rye looked Bloody Velvet in the eye. He squinted at her in the bright sunlight, trying to understand her. She was complex, mature, and a pony that he found himself admiring a great deal. “I suppose I have been angry.” 

“Anger isn’t a bad thing,” Velvet took a deep breath, her head tilting to one side, and her ears perked forwards as she continued, “anger is a gift.” 

“How so?” Rye asked. 

“Anger isn’t good or bad. It just is what it is. Anger becomes whatever it is that you want it to be. You can let your anger consume you, burning up your insides, or you can make your anger work for you. Be a motivator. You can use that anger to fuel your passion, making you a better pony. You can let your anger about injustice give you the strength you need to become the sort of pony that fights against those injustices.” Bloody Velvet frowned, blinked, and shook her head. “Or…” 

After waiting for Velvet to finish, Rye realised there was a lesson here. One eyebrow raised and the left corner of his mouth twitched. “Or what?” 

“Or… you get consumed by your anger, you fight, you become murderous and horrible, and, in the end, you will become not a force of righteous anger, but a common killer who masquerades under a so called righteous cause. This is not a good end, Rye. I’m dangerously close to being this myself, as much as it pains me to admit it. There is a reason they call me ‘Bloody Velvet.’ I’ve lost a lot of myself along the way. Maybe too much. I don’t know if I can get it back. I’m trying, having Woe makes it a little easier, but I have let my anger get the better of me.” 

Rye considered Velvet’s words, trying to understand, trying to figure out how this applied to him. There was a fine, fine line it seemed, a narrow path that one had to walk if one chose this lifestyle. A worrisome thought trickled up from the depths of his mind; it had been far too easy to give in to his anger, he had gone from a mild mannered servant to a hot blooded gunslinger in the same amount of time it took to boil water for tea. He had done it because it felt right. He didn’t like slavery, he didn’t like his enforced servitude. He didn’t know how to express himself, or how to give words to his anger. But resorting to violence had been easy, because of his cutie mark, because of his talent, he was good at it. Gifted. He had taken to killing and violence the same way an otter took to swimming. He realised, that was the trouble. It was too easy, and as such, because it was easy, because it took no effort, this was the way he had chosen to express his anger. 

“Choose to do better, Rye… we have a job to do… a terrible job… a job that most ponies wouldn’t understand and most would rather not involve themselves. Don’t let it do to you what it's done to me.” Bloody Velvet turned and watched as all of the sand slipped out of her student’s telekinetic bubble. For a moment, Velvet’s blood ran cold—she could not help but feel that it was a bit too symbolic of sands draining out of an hourglass… she hoped that she was not out of time. 

Nodding, Rye replied, “I’ll try.” 
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“I have sand in strange places!” Rye wiggled around, kicking out his hind legs, trying to free himself of said sand. He flicked his tail, a worried look appearing upon his face, and he gave himself another shake as Bloody Velvet rolled her eyes. 

“You’re funny.” Woe Betide looked up at Rye, an impish look on her face, and a terrible smile spreading over her muzzle. “I think Miss Mousy and Starjammer both like the way you dance.” 

Freezing in place, Rye looked first at Mousy, who was indeed staring, and then at Starjammer. Rye was unable to name the expression upon Starjammer’s face, but it made him feel hot and flustered. Starjammer almost looked sleepy, his eyes were half closed, and he appeared as though he was lost in a dream. 

“Right, that’s enough of that, then.” Rye, gritting his teeth together, tried to ignore the sand lodged in the various cracks, crevices, and tender places on his body. He couldn’t imagine being a mare and having to deal with sand—he had no idea how Velvet and Mousy were dealing with it. 

Skeeter had vanished and the sound of the shower running revealed the pegasus’ location. The Apogee had a nice shower, even if it was a little cramped. Rye decided that when the shower was available, he would hop in there himself. 

“Captain Spyglass wants to talk with all of us,” Oola said from where she reclined upon a small, well cushioned sofa. “This afternoon or this evening when we’ve all settled in. I dunno what’s up, but he seems anxious.” The lounging kangaroo was holding a bottle of wine in her hand and she looked a bit sleepy. “You know, this is so much better than home. Nice weather and everything around me isn’t trying to kill me.” 

“Anxious captains never good,” Bloody Velvet muttered to herself. 



 

There was a soft clink of metal as Rye Mash reassembled the new shotgun. It was a brutal, heavy device, the four barrels had not been rounded off in the slightest, the metal in which they were bored was squared, with hard edges on each corner, edges that would cleave a skull with a hearty smack. The rotating action was smooth, well machined, perfect in every way, but it would need lots of oiling and care on a daily basis to keep it free moving. 

As Rye worked, the seed of an idea was planted in his head. The revolving barrels were a great idea so one could keep firing, but they had a lot of issues; weight being the primary concern. There had to be a way to reduce the weight of the weapon but keep the revolving barrels somehow, or at least the functionality of the revolving barrels. 

An almost blank expression was on Rye Mash’s face as he stared at his new gun. His eyes twitched, a swift movement, and he focused upon the four barreled pepperbox pistol. The price of rapid fire was steep. The pepperbox was also an ungainly weapon, rather heavy all things considered. It too, was suitable for smashing skulls when it ran out of shot and a large knob was built on the grip. 

“Thinking?” 

Starjammer never said much and hearing his soft voice startled Rye. He turned his head and looked at his friend. The intense look of lusty dreaminess was gone, replaced by one of curiousity and concern. 

“Yeah,” Rye replied, glad for a chance to talk, “the guns… I want to make them better somehow. The multiple barrels are good for rapid fire, but they make the guns heavy. I want to make them lighter, but I don’t know how.” 

“Hmm.” Starjammer’s face wrinkled with concentration. 

“This shotgun is a marvel of modern engineering. I have four barrels that can each fire separately or all at once. It is a portable deck clearing cannon… when I look at it, I can see the future… I know it sounds funny, but I swear that it is true.” Rye drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, all too aware that Starjammer was looking at him once again, and then he continued, “He that fires the most shots the fastest is the one that is most likely to win a firefight. I just need to figure out a way for a gun to hold more shots without increasing the weight too much. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t think of a better way than what I am looking at in front of me.” 

Rye looked down at the wooden floorboards. His cleaning kit was spread over the floor, his cloak was wadded up in a pile near the bed, and his different guns were scattered everywhere all around him. Five pistols in total, including his sniper pistol and his pepperbox. His main pistols, the one that Bloody Velvet had given him, he called Right Nut and Left Nut, for those moments when he needed to go ‘balls out.’ All of this firepower. So much weight and preparation required to keep them all ready to fire. 

“You will find a way.”

Lifting his head, Rye looked at Starjammer, surprised to hear so many words from his friend. He felt a little more optimistic about finding a solution. He grinned at his friend and felt his heart pick up the pace a little bit. Starjammer had showered as well and had groomed himself to perfection. Sniffing, Rye smelled lavender and rose oil, a feminine smell, and he knew that Starjammer had pilfered Bloody Velvet’s much treasured soaps. There would be fighting and threats of violence later, which should be amusing to watch. 

“Starjammer… if I am going to change the world, I’m going to need a lot more bullets and a lot more guns… I don’t think this is going to be enough. I don’t think I’m enough… I—” Rye Mash’s voice faltered. “Maybe I’m crazy to even think that the world can be changed.” 

Shivering, Rye Mash felt Starjammer brushing up against him. He could feel hot breath on his neck. Starjammer’s touch was comforting, but something about it also scared Rye, causing his heart to thump within his barrel and he could feel his life’s blood rushing through his neck. He felt Starjammer’s snoot press into him, just below his ear, which caused his whole body to shiver-shudder. There was a soft kiss, the feeling of two lips lingering against the tender skin just below his ear… and then… nothing more. Starjammer pulled away and Rye felt his head being turned by the warm tingle of Starjammer’s magic. He gazed into Starjammer’s stark grey eyes.

“What?” Rye’s lone word came out as he breathed, his barrel rising and falling. 

But Starjammer said nothing else. Rye watched with breathless anticipation as Starjammer rose and left his cabin, leaving behind a perfumed cloud and a feeling of frustration. Was it something profound? Did Starjammer know something that he didn’t? Was Starjammer just messing with him? No answers seemed forthcoming. Letting out a frustrated and flustered whinny, Rye Mash began packing up his guns and cleaning up his mess. 



 

“Velvet is acting funny,” Woe said in a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s not acting like she normally does, she’s distracted and weird.” 

Rye looked into Woe’s single green eye and considered the filly’s words. What was normal for Bloody Velvet? He didn’t know. She was a mysterious sort to begin with, she had the Shivers, and she had some serious mood swings. That said, Woe wasn’t stupid, she was a survivor that knew how to read other ponies, or, as Woe put it, she knew how to find a good mark. She had found Rye after all. 

“Now that I think about it, Starjammer is acting funny too,” Woe added after she turned away from Rye and looked at Starjammer, who was sitting in a chair in the corner with a vacant stare, his nose pointing towards the ceiling. 

Something was up, Rye found himself agreeing with Woe Betide. Perhaps Velvet and Starjammer had said a few words to one another. Maybe this was about pilfered soap. Soap was a rare commodity, precious, hard to find, prized, a treasure to be hoarded. Bloody Velvet had said in no uncertain terms that if Rye stole her soap, she would geld him, and Rye had found his own supply of soap, something plain and unscented that had caused Starjammer to utter one word—plebian. 

“Maybe they quarrelled. Keep an eye on them, I’m going up on deck. There’ll be a meeting with the captain soon and I want some fresh air before we do that.” Rye gave Woe a nudge. “I think you and I might be the only normal unicorns on this ship.” 

Woe giggled and nodded her head. “I’ll keep an eye on them.” 



 

Standing on the deck of The Apogee, Rye Mash watched as supplies were carried over the makeshift wooden bridge that stretched between The Apogee and The Whalefish. The two ships were docked together in the harbour, hovering just above the water, the gasbags seemed to be close enough to almost touch. 

The Apogee was a whole lot smaller than The Whalefish. Having both of them together made this far more noticeable for Rye. Modifications were going to be made to The Apogee to make it a little more comfortable for the number of crew it currently had, but Rye didn’t know what those were. He hadn’t been paying attention. 

Captain Spyglass was flying around overhead, overseeing the transfer of goods and watching everything that was being loaded onto The Whalefish. A whole lot of cheese had been secured and the large wheels were being hauled aboard on the backs of stout earth pony crew members. 

“Oi, there’ll be a fog belowdecks with all this cheese.” 

Oola’s voice and strange accent made Rye smile. He watched as the hefty kangaroo lifted up a crate of goods from an earth pony’s back and then hauled it away, taking it downstairs to be stored in the kitchen. The galley? Rye was still learning about the right terms. 

In the distance, a bell rang out. It kept ringing and Rye began to feel a sense of worry. Flights of pegasi and griffons mercenaries filled the skies, Regulators. It was hard to see overhead because of the gasbags. Taking off at a trot, Rye moved around the deck, trying to get a better view. He couldn’t fly, so he couldn’t see what was going on. 

Looking out towards the ocean, Rye could see the source of the commotion. A gleaming silver airship was steaming into the harbour. The gasbag was long, sleek, and white, while the ship itself suspended beneath was a beautiful vessel made of shiny metal. It bristled with guns and two smaller escort corvettes flew on either side. 

Other vessels were moving to intercept. Rye Mash was worried. Pirates? Invaders? A group of minotaurs with muskets swarmed over the docks, mooing and bellowing. Artillery guns were turning. 

“Oh we are buggered,” Captain Spyglass shouted as he landed on the deck of The Whalefish. The pegasus looked at Rye, who was standing on The Apogee. “Mister Mash, prepare to be boarded.” 



 

White pegasi with gleaming golden armor streamed forth from the enormous airship that had invaded the harbour and a large cloaked figure flew in their midst, the cloak billowing out behind them. Rye stood with his guns ready. He suspected he knew who had just arrived. The Regulators were all standing down now and the airships that had moved to defend the harbour were now giving the three ships that had arrived a wide berth. 

Captain Spyglass stood beside him on the deck of The Apogee and Rye heard his captain let out a fearful whimper when the first of the pegasi landed upon the deck. Rye stood his ground, defiant, a bit angry, and afraid. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why their visitor was here, and why both Starjammer and Bloody Velvet had been acting so strange. 

She had come for them, that was what Rye Mash feared. She herself had come for Starjammer perhaps, because of what he had done, or she had come for Bloody Velvet. She had come to take them away, to take them back to Equestria, to make them answer for what they had done. She had muddled their minds somehow to prevent them from knowing that she was coming. 

She was landing on the deck right now. 

Rye Mash watched as Princess Celestia touched down. She was large, white, her head was covered in a thick hood made of brilliant blue cloth. She folded her wings against her sides and her heavy blue cloak settled about her body, fluttering in the breeze. 

“Surrender your arms,” a pegasus said. 

Rye, blinking, stared at the pegasus guard, his anger making him grow hot. He shook his head, his heart thudding so hard inside of his barrel that it was causing him pain. No, no there was no way that Rye was going to surrender his arms. There was no way that he was going to let his friends be taken. There was no way that he would allow himself to be taken. He was a fugitive too, no doubt. Missing property. He was standing on stolen property. 

“Mister Mash, surrender your arms, if you please,” Captain Spyglass said in a pleading voice. “That is an order, Mister Mash.” 

“No.” Rye Mash’s refusal was spat out at the same time that he drew all of his weapons at once, his telekinesis straining to deal with all of them. He leveled his new shotgun at the group of pegasi guards. “No, I’ll not let her take them or me… I’m never going back. I’d rather die.” 

“Mister Mash, you are going to get all of us killed,” Captain Spyglass said. 

“Listen to your captain,” a pegasus commanded, stepping closer. 

“One more step and I will blow your head off.” Rye pointed the four barreled pepperbox at the nearest pegasus, the one that had issued the command. “Try me… you might kill me, but most of of you are coming with me.” There was an ominous clicking sound as Rye cocked all of his guns at once.

Captain Spyglass gulped and tried not to piss himself in front of the alicorn princess. 

Moving forwards, her guards parting before her, Princess Celestia approached Rye Mash, her thin white muzzle protruding from her hood. She moved with a smooth, easy grace, and as she came forwards, she held her head high. 

“Captain Sparrow, please, stand down. This one will shoot you.” Princess Celestia’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Please, good sir, keep your guns but put them away. You are either very brave or very foolish to be so defiant, I am hoping that you are brave.” The tall white alicorn cleared her throat. “Please, be calm and do not be worried. I have come here looking for help, not to cause you trouble or take your friends from you. Yes, I am fully aware who is belowdecks. I know both of them. I give you my word that I am not here for them.” 

Swallowing, feeling a lump in his throat, Rye Mash looked up at the white alicorn and then at the pegasus who had given him a command. The pegasus was backing away. He looked up again and saw a gentle smile. This was a misunderstanding, it seemed. With the muffled click of metal, Rye Mash uncocked his guns and began holstering them, his eyes never leaving what little he could see of Princess Celestia’s face. 

“My apologies, Ma’am,” Rye Mash said to Princess Celestia. “Perhaps we could discuss what brings you here over tea?” Much to Rye’s surprise, he heard a soft laugh from the much larger alicorn. 

“I did not expect any of this,” Princess Celestia replied, “first to find one with such bravery and then to discover that he is well mannered. I would very much like to discuss this over tea.” 

Rye Mash bowed his head. “Very well then, I apologise for my rather rude welcome, but I did not know your intentions.” 

After clearing her throat, Princess Celestia said, “I am in need of brave, ruthless ponies with stout hearts. I am actually quite reassured by your welcome. I have no doubt that you are just the sort of pony I have been looking for…” 
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 25
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Feeling a powerful feeling of frustration, Rye Mash sat down in a chair opposite from Princess Celestia, who sat on the floor on a nice cushion. Being as tall as she was, she still towered over the table. Nothing he had said had reached her. He had tried warning her about the conspiracies he had uncovered, he had tried to warn her about the plot to remove her from power. He had tried to tell her what he knew—and she had silenced him. Starjammer had fled the room and Bloody Velvet had done the same, leaving just a few seconds after Starjammer had skedaddled away. Captain Spyglass was sitting at the table, looking fearful, saying nothing. 

“Young Mister Mash, there is something you must understand.” As Princess Celestia spoke, she pulled back her hood, which caused the well mannered Rye Mash to gasp. Her face was pinched, her eyes were sunken and bloodshot. She looked tired, as though she had not slept in years. 

“There are always conspiracies. There are always plots. I eat each meal wondering which bite of food has been poisoned and will continue to weaken me.” Princess Celestia drew in a deep breath, her sides expanding. “I am not in a position where I can deal with such trivial issues, there are far more important things I must be looking after. I know it will be difficult for you to understand, but I assure you, there are things that I must deal with that consume all of my energy.” 

“Aye, Ma’am.” Rye peered at the alicorn, wondering what brought her here. He supposed that she would tell him, after all, that was what she was here for. Turning his head, Rye saw Mousy creeping towards the table, her ears were pinned back, her tail drooping, and she kept her head low. 

On the table, the tea was steeping and fragrant, nose tickling steam curled and rose towards the ceiling. There was a soft, faint creak of wood as Mousy pulled out her chair from the table and she sat down, her expression one of near terror as she kept staring at the alicorn before her. 

“As for the matter at hoof, Mister Mash, my student, who is very dear to me, was foalnapped,” Princess Celestia said as her ears drooped. The white alicorn looked troubled and her tired looking bloodshot eyes focused upon Rye Mash. 

“Oh dear,” Rye Mash replied, trying to sound both kind and sympathetic. “Can you tell me more about her? Do you have any leads? And, not to sound rude, what makes you think that we can find her?” 

“Her name is Stella Scintilla. She is a unicorn, a bit younger than you. She has a pale blue pelt and a darker blue mane. Her cutie mark is a shining silver star. She has a powerful astronomy talent and is able to read the stars in a way that few can.” 

Sitting in his chair, looking calm, Rye felt his blood run cold. Some of the ciphers he had puzzled out stated that the stars themselves could be turned against Princess Celestia. He said nothing, either Princess Celestia would shush him for saying something or she would already know. Either way, Rye understood that it was his place to remain silent and follow directions. 

“Stella was stolen by a former student of mine… a unicorn named ‘Inkblot.’ Inkblot is a proud son of House Evening Star and is also an astronomer with powerful magical abilities, in this instance, divination. He will be quite dangerous, I assure you. He turned on me. Currently, Inkblot is in the employ of a pony named Salad Days.” 

Rye tried swallowing the lump he found rising in his throat. He kept his calm as he prepared the tea, pouring a bit of cream into the cups, some sugar, and then, at last, the tea. He felt his heart racing as his mind made the connections. He knew of Salad Days. His brows furrowed. Two astronomers? Divination? He was going to need to ask Bloody Velvet a million questions, he wasn’t sure what divination was or how somepony skilled in divination or astronomy could be dangerous. 

One eyebrow raising, Rye Mash cleared his throat and then addressed Princess Celestia in the most polite voice he could muster, seeing as how he felt as though he was choking. “I understand that when I find Stella that I am to rescue her and bring her back to you, but what would you like for me to do when I encounter Inkblot?” 

“While I very much would like to see my former student have a change of heart and come back into the fold, I very much doubt that such a thing will happen.” A look of terrible sadness came over Princess Celestia’s face. “He was my student and I still love him a great deal. If he is unreasonable, if he does not cooperate, please… please, do make sure that it is quick if you have to put him down.” 

“Why me? Why choose us? Why come out here to this place, find us, and ask us to do this?” Rye Mash asked, his muzzle crinkling in an intense, quizzical expression. 

“Young Mister Mash, I have few allies at home. I fight to keep my throne. Things continue to worsen. For reasons I do not wish to explain, I have been left weakened… while I do not know you as well as I might like, I have been watching you for some time—” 

“Through Bloody Velvet,” Rye said, his manners slipping as he interrupted. 

“Correct.” Princess Celestia’s mouth tightened into a straight line and she looked quite serious. “Cerise Velvet might be troubled, but she is still a good pony. I have seen her heart, it weighs heavily with what she has done and what has been done to her. Had I the means, I would have saved her and others like her, but alas, I cannot. There is too much going on.” The white alicorn lifted up her teacup and drank some with a surprising slurp. 

Rye Mash heard more slurping as Mousy lowered her head and began lapping up her tea out of the teacup he had placed in front of her. Captain Spyglass wasn’t even trying to drink his tea. The pegasus looked scared still, but also thoughtful. 

“We operate on a very thin margin,” Captain Spyglass said to Princess Celestia in a low voice. “We are in a very precarious position, doing what we do. While I would like to help, I am unsure about sailing all over the world in search of a foalnapped student.” 

“Captain Spyglass—” 

“Hush, Mister Mash.” The pegasus had a hard look come over his face. “We try to do what good we can, but I am not going to get my crew killed trying to rescue just one student. That is not a good return for the danger involved. We just rescued a whole bunch of foals… the rewards have to be exceptional when weighed against the risks.” Captain Spyglass looked Princess Celestia in the eye and one hoof began to tap upon the table. “This isn’t about money or trying to get you to pay us more coin. For me, this life was never about the money.” 

“I understand, Captain Spyglass, but your bargaining posture is rather dubious. You see, no matter how noble you might think your actions are, you are a criminal. You have done some very bad things. Questionable things. Things that you must answer for. Should you refuse me, as much as it bothers me to do this, this lovely tea time will end in your arrest. Not your crew, just you. I will then ask Young Mister Mash to help me once more, and if he refuses—” Princess Celestia turned her steely gaze upon Rye Mash and one eyebrow raised. 

“So this tea time ends in a bloodbath and I have to start shooting every pegasus guard that comes down those steps… unless you plan to do us in yourself, which I am sure you could do, but then the entire town of Sable Blanc will know that you murdered us during the false pretenses of a peaceful exchange.” Rye Mash leaned forwards, a hard look in his eye. “And nopony wants that outcome. So it is in everypony’s best interests to play nice with one another, it is in your best interests to continue to be nice to us, and it is in our best interests to do as you ask.” 

“More and more, I am starting to believe that I have, indeed, found the right pony for the job,” Princess Celestia said in a low voice as she looked at Rye Mash through narrowed eyes. 

“Mister Mash, you are supposed to be looking after my interests—” 

“I am, Captain Spyglass, I am keeping you from being arrested and preventing a blood bath from taking place.” Rye Mash, still leaning forwards, turned to look at the pegasus beside him. “I understand your hesitation on this issue, but what choice do we have?” 

Scowling, Spyglass began to tap upon the table with his hoof. “Not much, it seems. And if we part ways, fly off, and not do the job, I am certain there is a contingency in place to deal with us.” 

“She muddled the minds of Bloody Velvet and Starjammer.” Rye Mash focused his gaze upon Princess Celestia. “That in and of itself is quite a threat to our existence, seeing as how much we depend upon Bloody Velvet.” 

“I do not wish to threaten anypony,” Princess Celestia said in apologetic tones. “I just wish to have my student returned to me. It is very, very important.” The alicorn mare let out a sigh and shook her head. “I had so hoped to resolve this without resorting to threats.” 

“Majesty, you have failed.” Spyglass looked at Princess Celestia with his ears pinned back in a submissive posture. “You are an alicorn and a princess… by virtue of your very existence, everything you do is a threat, implied or direct. You didn’t come here and board my vessels with the intent of leaving us be if you didn’t get what you wanted. You came here with a specific directive and you fully intend to have your way, with no care given to what we might want. We have no real say in this matter… we either do as we are bid or this ends badly.” Spyglass’ nostrils flared. “Madam, that is the very definition of tyranny.” 

“Captain Spyglass… this will be very difficult for you to understand, but you are not the only one left with no options or choices here. I too, must obey the whims of circumstance. This is not about you or I, this goes far beyond either of us. What I am doing is preserving our shared future. There are forces at work that you could scarcely imagine. I am fighting to make sure that the sun keeps rising day after day and that life on this planet continues to exist. Whether you realise it or not, you and I are in a shared struggle… I am merely asking that you and I work together for our mutual survival.” 

“So… one of two things are true,” Captain Spyglass said as his ears perked forwards. “I am being given a load of shite to ensure my cooperation or things really are as bad as you say and we’re all about to be neck deep in minotaur shite.” The pegasus cleared his throat. “I would like to believe that you are a good pony, good in the way that matters, and that you are trying to deal fairly with us, as much as an alicorn princess with near infinite cosmic power can deal with a few puny mortals in a fair manner.” 

“Captain?” Rye Mash asked.

Spyglass glanced at his cabin colt and then back at Princess Celestia. “So let us assume that what you are saying is true and that you are not being a manipulative tyrant. What makes you think that we can help you? If we are fighting against a force of evil so great that it threatens you, but not just you, the entirety of life on this planet, what makes you think that we have any chance at all of dealing with it and getting your student back?” 

“That is a very good question.” Rye Mash, after having made his remark, took a long drink of tea and watched as Princess Celestia’s expression became thoughtful. The alicorn did not answer. Her face contorted a few times, her brows furrowed, and she seemed quite perplexed. Rye Mash suffered a stunning realisation. Princess Celestia, the Immortal Alicorn of the Sun, was still a pony. 

“If I may?” Mousy said, her voice squeaky with fear. 

“By all means, say something,” Spyglass said, lifting his head and little higher and sounding a bit bolder after stumping Princess Celestia. 

“It seems to me that Princess Celestia is choosing to ignore little things while focusing on bigger things that threaten our existence. The little trivial things are distractions that she is ignoring.” Mousy cleared her throat, licked her lips, and then her eyes darted around, looking at the different ponies around the table. “We’re little things. We’re teeny tiny things and we are easy to ignore because we don’t seem important. I’m used to being ignored… I’m an earth pony. I’m not important or much of a threat to anypony. I’m so unimportant that I’m almost invisible.” Mousy fell silent, her expression becoming one of pain.

“Miss Mousy, do continue,” Rye Mash said to the earth pony beside him. 

“We won’t be noticed. We’re not important enough to notice. We’ll probably have a good chance at slipping in and getting back Princess Celestia’s student. They’ll be looking out for real threats, or focusing on events, or whatever it is that they do. Just as Princess Celestia doesn’t have the means to examine every little detail of what goes on around her, neither does whomever we are going against.” Mousy ducked her head, her ears splaying out, and gave the ponies around the table a shy smile. 

“That line of logic troubles me, but I can see the sense in it,” Spyglass said, his words full of reluctance. The pegasus sighed and said nothing else. 

“The wisdom of earth ponies never ceases to amaze me.” Princess Celestia, now focused on Mousy, appeared to be studying the earth pony mare. “Now that we have reached an understanding, perhaps we can continue to discuss this issue free of threats and coercion.” 

Spyglass nodded. “I’ll agree to do this, but I have conditions… first and foremost, I must look after my crew and there is something I want from you…” 
	
	
> Chapter 26
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Feeling troubled, Rye Mash reflected upon his meeting with Princess Celestia. There was a lot she wasn’t telling them. Something big was going on, that much was clear, but the details of whatever it was were unclear. Rye suspected that the gold that had been aboard The Apogee had something to do with it, along with the ciphers they had found. He wondered if the Broker knew more. 

Captain Spyglass, being a good captain that cared for his crew, secured pardons for each one of his crewmembers by name, a binding document with legal powers. As for Rye Mash himself, he, along with several others, had privateer contracts—Rye could not see any real difference between pirates and privateers, but Captain Spyglass assured him there was a great deal of difference. 

There was also the matter of the up front payment, aside from all of the pardons, legal documents, and other kind gestures; Princess Celestia had given Rye a sword. The sword, a hanger, looked like a cutlass or a sabre that a griffon, a minotaur, or perhaps a diamond dog might favour. Rye, not magically well off, saw the hanger as a practical gift and was wearing it now as he paced the deck, thinking about everything. The sword had a blazing sun engraved on the pommel and was a beautiful weapon. Rye knew nothing about swords, but he knew it would be useful. Just another tool for the job. It was quiet, something that a gun wasn’t. 

Hearing hoofsteps, he turned and saw Bloody Velvet. She was standing on deck, looking at Princess Celestia’s airship, which was moored nearby. Velvet looked afraid, she was shaking, very much so, and her ears were pinned back against her skull in a fearful, submissive manner. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Rye asked. 

“I think so,” Velvet replied, her voice was difficult to hear over the wind and the sounds of the ships whisper. “She scares me… I wish she would go away. I wish we weren’t helping her… why us, Rye?” 

“We’re able bodied and capable.” Rye moved towards Velvet, feeling bad for her, but not knowing how to comfort her. The source of all of Velvet’s fears was but a short distance away. 

“I can still feel her in my mind… I want my privacy back,” Velvet said to Rye. She turned and looked at her unicorn companion. “Rye, I’m so sorry that I stay stuck inside your head. I wish I could give you the privacy you deserve. Having… her inside of my head always drives that point home and makes me hate the power I have.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Rye, hoping his gesture would not be seen the wrong way, bumped up against Velvet, trying to be friendly. “How is Starjammer?” 

“He has drank himself into a stupour. He’s out cold. She really messed him up.” Bloody Velvet leaned up against Rye, her muscles quivering, her ears twitching, and her eyelids were blinking out of sync. Velvet, not a pony given to many moments of affection, rested her head against Rye’s neck and she felt the pommels of several pistols pressing into her ribs. 

For some reason, it was comforting to be next to Rye. He smelled of oil, of leather, of gunpowder, of steel, and the nose tickling scent of tea. For Velvet, it was nice to drop her guard and allow herself to feel vulnerable for a moment. Rye had proven himself to be trustworthy, he was a gentlepony. Velvet closed her eyes, she trembled, and continued to lean against Rye.

“We’re supposed to meet again with Princess Celestia tomorrow. Captain Spyglass has asked me to be there… I can’t do it, Rye… what do I do?” Velvet opened her eyes and watched a wing of pegasi circle around Princess Celestia’s airship. 

“Just be honest, tell him you can’t, and hope that he understands,” Rye replied. He felt his insides squirming, this might have been the most uncomfortable moment of his life. Velvet, the tough as nails take no shite from nopony hardarse, was acting like a mare. 

Not that mares were weak, Velvet was proof of that, but she was acting weird and Rye could think of no other way of putting it. Too late, he realised that Velvet knew what he was thinking. He tried to empty out his brain and focused on just trying to be a good friend and not thinking about anything at all. 

“Thank you, Rye, for being a good friend. I think I am going to go below decks and lay down for a while. I have a headache coming on.” Velvet wobbled on her legs for a moment as she pulled herself away from Rye and found her balance. 

“I hope you get to feeling better.” Rye watched as Velvet stumbled away, wondering what he was going to do with himself. He felt worried, anxious, and out of sorts. He glanced over at Princess Celestia’s airship, then glanced at the town of Sable Blanc. 

Rye had an idea. Rye, being young and stupid, had the sort of idea that comes with youth. He decided to kick up his heels, he could do with a bit of celebration. He was young, he was free, he had a piece of paper that was supposed to keep him from being hung by his neck until dead. 

Life, it seemed, was good. 



 

Alone, Rye Mash prowled Sable Blanc. No one else was in the mood to do anything. Skeeter wanted nothing more than to lay down and get more sleep. Velvet had a headache. Starjammer had secreted himself away and was no doubt pickled. Even Mousy had refused him, deciding to spend time with Woe Betide. Oola was with the captain, doing whatever it was that kangaroos did when in the company of captains. 

With Princess Celestia in town, the atmosphere of Sable Blanc could only be described as subdued. Extra Regulators patrolled the streets, preventing any and all forms of trouble. Surprising himself, Rye Mash had left his weapons aboard The Apogee, tucked away in his cabin. He was out to have a nice time, not kill someone. Sable Blanc was supposed to be safe, and Rye wanted to have fun, let go, and kick up his heels. 



 

Craning his head, Rye looked up at the sign above him. A light shone upon it, it was large, made of wood, and painted. It showed a pony being romantic with a wheel of cheese. Just looking at it made Rye blush, the sign spared no detail. At the bottom of the sign in bright red letters were the words “Fromage Frottant.” 

Rye had no idea what the words meant, but he guessed that it was something vulgar in Fancy. He stared upwards, open mouthed, his eyes wide. The more he looked at it, the funnier he felt. Something about the painting was erotic, but Rye couldn’t put his hoof on what it was. He hoped that he wasn’t becoming attracted to cheese. 

Pushing open the door, Rye was blasted with a wave of heat and sound. The inside of the public house was sweltering, full of hot bodies all crammed in. The smell of food cooking, sweaty bodies, and beer filled Rye’s nose. On stage, a mare and a stallion were singing a duet in Fancy, and Rye had no idea what was being sung. The mare kept singing the words “amour écolière” while the stallion sang an unknown chorus. 

Rye found himself swept inside. An out of tune piano kept pace with the singers, along with an accordion, a horn, and some sort of stringed instrument that Rye did not recognise. The music seemed strange, exotic, yet also somehow familiar. 

The flow of bodies was like an ocean current—Rye found himself swept along, moving with the current, not trying to fight it. He found himself near an empty table and broke free from the moving, swaying, dancing bodies. The table, small, suitable for one or as a romantic table for two, had no chair, it was just a low table to keep one’s food and drink up off of the floor. 

Sitting alone at his table, Rye looked at the crowd of revelers. Many of the ponies were his age. Young mares, young stallions, he found his eye lingering over both. Some were handsome, some were pretty, both were worth looking at. Rye could not help but feel a little lonesome in this situation. The couples were dancing, necking, swaying and moving with the music in such a way that suggested that there would be other kinds of dancing later. The air was thick with both romance and lust, some couples having both, some couples having one but not the other. 

“What’ll ya be having?” an older looking unicorn stared at Rye, a faint smirk upon her face. 

“To start with, what smells so good… spicy—” 

“Fried potatoes with creamy pepper gravy,” the mare replied before Rye even had a chance to finish. “The house special. What’ll ya be washing it down with?” 

“Wine,” Rye replied, feeling sophisticated and grown up. “I mean, that is the local drink, correct?” He looked at the waitress, hoping he didn’t appear stupid or immature. She was still smirking at him and something about her smirk made him want to squirm. 

“I can bring you a lovely bottle of red or white, your pick.” 

“Red.” Rye licked his lips, the smell was driving him crazy. Not just the smell of food, something else was in the air, something that gave him electric tingles in his nose. His throat felt dry and he felt thirsty in a weird way. 

“We also have some well aged Clan Pickled whiskey… single malt.” The smirking mare gave Rye a wry grin. “With each passing minute we have less and less. Would you care to try some?” 

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Rye replied. 

“Shall I bring you a bottle or a glass?” the serving mare asked. 

“Um, a bottle…” Rye wasn’t certain just how one ordered whiskey. 

“Spicy potatoes with creamy pepper gravy, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of whiskey. Anything else?” The mare’s tail flicked around a bit as she stood waiting, still smirking, her expression one of near laughter. 

“That’ll do, I think, at least for now. I might have more to drink later.” Rye Mash felt a little uncomfortable, but dismissed it. “Thank you, by the way.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

Hearing the mare’s reply, Rye was unable to tell if she was being sarcastic. 



 

The potatoes were fried in such a way that they were crispy, chewy even, on the outside and soft on the inside. They came in a large wooden bowl, smothered in white, creamy gravy that was dusted with pepper. No spoon had been brought to the table, just the blue wooden bowl filled with crispy fried potatoes and gravy. 

The wine was somewhat bitter at first, but with each swallow, the wine grew sweeter. Rye found that he liked it a great deal. The bottle of whiskey sat in the middle of the table, it was a little bit smaller, just a tiny bit shorter than the bottle of wine. As he took a drink from the bottle, the sounds of enthusiastic lovemaking filled his now perking ears. He heard grunting, panting, little whimpers, all of which grew with intensity. Some of the patrons were hooting, some cheering, and still others were stomping their hooves. The sound from the lusty couple was coming from out of a back room, some place out of sight. 

After setting down his wine bottle, Rye buried his muzzle once more into his food and began eating, trying to keep his face from getting too messy. It was difficult to eat with the sounds of two ponies rutting, but Rye supposed that it was part of the local charm. The regulars seemed to be enjoying it a great deal and the two singers, who looked damp and sweaty, were taking a break. 

Enjoying himself a great deal, Rye gobbled down his potatoes. 



 

The wine was so fantastic that Rye ordered another bottle. He could always take the whiskey back to the ship with him. He felt relaxed now, happy, it didn’t bother him in the slightest that two stallions were now going at it with great vigour in the hidden room. Grinning from ear to ear, Rye tipped back his second bottle of wine and took a long drink. He smacked his lips, belched, then licked the wine and flecks of leftover gravy from his lips. He had licked his bowl so clean that the kitchen could have just put it back on the shelf. 

He felt hot, too hot, the room was still sweltering, but for some reason, now, the heat did not bother him. He was sweating, he was soaked, he could feel the sweat running down his body, but for whatever reason, he had stopped caring about being too warm. He felt wonderful. 

The singing duet were crooning to one another, he kept hearing the word “bouc” and “ménage à trois.” He was dead certain that the song was dirty, but he had no idea what was being said. He was a stranger in a strange land that had delicious wine, spicy potatoes, peppery gravy, and smirking waitresses that somehow showed up at the exact moment they were needed. 

After finishing off his wine, Rye Mash came to a worrisome conclusion. His table was a lonesome place. His friends, his companions, those he cared about, were stowed away in their cabins. They were miserable and afraid. He wanted them to be happy, just like he was feeling happy right now. He was so happy that he felt lightheaded. It felt like something fuzzy was in his ears. He could feel the warm rush of blood in his own neck. He felt alive, very much so. He was feeling generous. His friends needed a pick-me-up. 

Almost as if by magic, the smirking waitress was there. Rye blinked a few times, surprised to see her. Unicorns… they had impressive magical powers. Even waitresses! He stared at her for a moment, she had used her magic to make herself a whole lot younger and a whole lot prettier. Wow! She was good looking. She didn’t look much older than he was. Rye licked his lips and wondered for a brief moment if the waitress wanted to disappear into the secret room with him. 

He paused, remembering his friends. As much as he wanted to get to know the waitress a little better, he had his friends to think about. He had a mission. He had to make them feel better. They needed to feel happy just like he did. He grinned at the pretty waitress who was now somehow his own age. 

“Hi.” Rye leaned forward, his barrel pressing against his table. “I has some ship back on my friends.” Rye stopped for a moment and thought about his own words. Something didn’t seem right, but after spending a few seconds thinking about what he had said, everything had seemed okay, he couldn’t find fault with what had been spoken. 

“I bet you do,” the smirking waitress replied. 

“I want to make my friends happy… I need more wine… so I can take it home to them. Maybe a few bottles of whiskey too… I have a lot of friends and there is a big kangaroo.” 

“Sure there is,” the smirking waitress said to Rye. 

“No, really, there is a kangaroo and she’s a boxer. Her name is Oola and she’s vulgar. I like her… anyhow, I need some wine and some whiskey to take home with me.” Rye wished the waitress would stop doing magic—for a moment, he had seen two of her. One good looking young mare was tempting, but seeing two of them was causing Rye a bit of a problem. Two good looking young mares were better than one. She was trying to seduce him with magic and Rye knew that he needed to go. 

“Sure thing, I’ll get you a small cask of wine to take with you and a small cask of whiskey. You have enough coin?” The waitress’ smirk vanished and she gave Rye a hard look. 

It was difficult to do magic, but Rye pulled out his coin purse from a leather pouch attached to his body harness. He opened it and began tossing out bright silver and gold coins. After several thumped down on the table, he saw the waitress nod. 

“That’ll be enough. You just sit tight and I’ll bring you some wine and some whiskey for you to take back to your kangaroo.” The waitress’ smirk returned and she gave Rye a saucy wink. “Try not to get into trouble, hurry back to your ship, and be careful. The Regulators don’t take kindly to drunken troublemakers. Drunks are fine, but if you cause trouble, they’ll flog you while you are hungover.” 

“Oh, that sounds very bad,” Rye replied. “Thank you… I’ll be careful, I promise…” 
		
		
		
		
		
		
		
> Chapter 27
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The first thing that Rye Mash became aware of was the throbbing, pulsating, hammer blows inside of his own head. Each throb caused his whole body to tense, his muscles jerking and twitching as the excruciating pain had its way with him. As his body made feeble twitches and kicks, he became aware of other far more curious sensations, such as the fact that there were other ponies in the bed with him. 

His stomach clenched at this realisation and he fought back a rising swell of nausea that threatened to overcome him. There was a smell in the air, something foul, and it did not help his nausea in the slightest. Parts of him felt dry, but crusty, while other parts of him felt quite slimey. The bed he was lying in was wet and as he squirmed, something squelched. 

Opening his eyes was a terrible mistake and Rye regretted it right away. He squeezed his eyes shut, his eyes trying to make tears but he was far too dehydrated. Rye whimpered as stabbing pains coursed up and down the whole of his body. At this moment, he wanted to die. 

He also wanted to know who was in the bed with him. He tried to recall what had happened last night. He had went out and had a nice dinner after the sun had gone down—he had a vague memory of fried potatoes and gravy. He had a very hazy memory of bringing back some wine and some whiskey, and that was it. There was nothing else, nothing at all, and Rye very much wanted to panic, but the throbbing inside of his head prevented him from doing anything at all. 

Opening one eye, Rye peeped out, angled his head, and looked over to his left, where something heavy and solid was half draped over him and crushing him into the bed. He saw black, a black so black that it looked blue. Rye sighed. That would be Mousy. He could feel her deep, steady breathing, the feeling of her ribs against him, and her warm breath blowing against him. Whimpering, he closed his eye, already not liking this situation. He turned his head and opened his other eye, just enough to have a peek. 

He saw a snow white muzzle sticking up on his right. A few strands of silvery blonde mane were plastered to the white muzzle, which was open and had an orange tongue sticking out. Rye Mash wanted to scream, but his own strong sense of self preservation prevented him from doing so. Such an act would surely cause his head to explode in a most violent fashion. 

He needed to get out of the bed without disturbing his companions somehow. There was a piercing pain in his guts and he knew he needed something to drink. Rye would, without question, shoot a pony for a cold drink right about now. He smacked his lips as he thought about cold, cool, refreshing orange juice and how nice it would be going down his throat, slaking his thirst, making the painful dryness in his mouth go away. 

As he wiggled, he felt Mousy rub up against him. She was straddling his leg, he could feel the moist heat of her feminine places pressing up against his thigh. She was slick, slimey even, and he could feel her sticking to his pelt. He had no idea what sort of disgusting puddle he was laying in, but he had sneaking suspicions as to what it might be. His skin crawled with revulsion. His whole body felt soaked and dried out at the same time. He was sweating, he could feel it, his mane was damp and plastered to his head. 

Much to Rye’s mortification, he realised that Starjammer was also pressed up against him. He could feel something against his side. Rye Mash gritted his teeth. Starjammer felt as though he was about half mast or so, and Rye’s movement had caused parts of Starjammer’s anatomy to come to life. 

“‘Ello, love,” Mousy said, her voice a dry, raspy whisper. 

“What happened?” Rye asked, the sound of his own voice causing his head to ring like a bell. His whole body tensed and he felt his bowels clenching as he almost vomited. 

“You don’t remember?” Mousy’s voice was squeaky and a bit shrill, much to Rye’s dismay. 

“No.” Rye Mash closed his eyes and kept them squeezed shut. Perhaps he was dreaming and when he woke up, this nightmare would be over and everything would be okay again. “No, I don’t remember anything at all.” 

“Hush, sleep now.” Starjammer mumbled out the words and then lapsed back into snoring as he wrapped a foreleg over Rye and Mousy. 

“I need to get up, I’m gonna be sick!” Rye shouted in warning, which caused his head to explode with pain. It also caused both of his companions to wake up and fly out of the bed, giving him plenty of room. 

Rye however, failed to get out of the bed. He fell over the side, stumbled, unable to get to his legs, hit the floor, smashing his snoot into the wood, and then puked as the pain became too much to bear. Seeing stars, Rye continued to barf up his own intestines, at least it sure felt that way, all over the floor as his companions watched in disgust. 



 

Still damp, Rye Mash huddled on a cushion, fighting back waves of nausea. He had showered, which did nothing to make him feel better, but at least he was clean. Bloody Velvet had brought him a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, and a few slices of dry toast on a saucer. 

Mousy, sitting beside Rye, kept squirming, shifting her body around, her tail swishing from side to side. She had showered as well and upon exiting the washroom, had been spritzed with perfume by Bloody Velvet, who was trotting around and snickering. 

Starjammer was sitting on a small sofa, looking very pleased with himself while nursing a cup of tea. He was quiet, smiling, and his eyes were focused upon Rye, who was little more than a miserable lump. 

“My arse is sore,” Mousy muttered. 

Fearful, Rye looked up, worried that he had something to do with that. “Why is your arse sore?” Rye’s words were little more than a whisper, he still didn’t know what had gone on, and something about how Bloody Velvet kept snickering filled him with dread. 

“Where do we even begin?” Mousy blinked a few times, looked at Starjammer, then back at Rye. “Rye Mash, you buggered my arsehole.” 

Shaking, Rye let out a gibbering, wordless whine as Bloody Velvet’s shrill laughter echoed through the room, spilling out of the galley. He closed his eyes and felt like throwing up again. 

“It’s my fault, I told you to do it,” Mousy said. 

“Why?” It was the only word that Rye could muster. It came out as little more than a gasp and Rye felt his stomach lurch. Trembling, he struggled to lift up his glass of orange juice. He needed something to wet his parched throat. 

“Well, it looked like fun… you had just got done buggering Starjammer and he looked like he enjoyed it a great deal.” Mousy paused while Starjammer began laughing, a low, sophisticated sounding chuckle. “We were celebrating.” 

“Celebrating?” Rye almost dropped his orange juice. “Celebrating what? Getting the job? Becoming privateers?” 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Mousy asked. 

“No,” Rye shook his head, “I don’t.” 

“Start from the beginning, Mousy,” Starjammer said to the earth pony, no longer laughing. “He deserves to know everything.” 

Rye swallowed, now fearful. Starjammer no longer laughing made everything worse. Starjammer looked serious, solemn even, and even Bloody Velvet had gone silent. The room was filled with deafening silence. Rye could feel his heart thudding in his chest. 

Mousy took a deep breath, looking at Rye, and a fearful expression crept over her face. “Well Rye, last night, you came back to the ship with gifts, wine and whiskey, which you and Starjammer shared. I had a bit of wine, but not much, just enough to make me giggly, but I wasn’t sloshed, not like you two. Starjammer had already been soused earlier in the day.” 

Rubbing his head, Rye tried to remember. He had a hazy recollection of what Mousy was saying. He did come home with wine and whiskey. 

“It was Oola that got you to dance, she also shared some of the whiskey, but not much. After your dance with her, you danced with me and you danced with Starjammer. Then you danced with both of us. After that, you finished off the whiskey.” Mousy scooted a little closer to Rye. “You told me how pretty I was.” 

Groaning, Rye could not remember anything that Mousy was saying, but he could see that Starjammer was nodding. Bloody Velvet was now sitting on the sofa beside Starjammer, one eyelid was twitching, and her ear jumped up and down with every other twitch of her eyelid. 

“We danced for a while longer, the three of us, and Starjammer said that you and I were a perfect couple… you agreed, Rye.” Mousy took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then said, “You asked me to marry you.” The earth pony mare opened her eyes. 

“What?” Rye gave Mousy a blank stare of horror. 

“I said no,” Mousy replied, shaking her head. “I said it was the liquor talking and you got angry. You said that you were free to do as you pleased, that you were as free as the wind, and that you could do whatever you wanted. You said that you knew what you wanted and you wanted me and you would not take no for an answer. You threatened to shoot the moon out of the sky and to plunge the world into darkness. We all tried to tell you no, but you insisted, then you cried a bit, and you and I cuddled and talked for a while, and finally, it was Bloody Velvet that told me to give you what you wanted if that was what I wanted and we would sort everything out somehow, and so you and I left the ship and found a justice of the peace.” 

“Oh shite and buggery,” Rye whispered, clutching at his stomach. 

“That came later,” Starjammer said to Rye, still looking serious and solemn. 

“When we came back, there was a bit of a celebration and I knew that you and Starjammer had a bit of a thing going on, and I didn’t want any hard feelings, so I suggested that we all go to bed together and you agreed… you thought it was a great idea. You wanted to be impulsive and try new things… went on a bit of rant actually and we had to shut you up.” Reaching up, Mousy brushed her mane out of her face and then looked Rye in the eye. 

“How drunk was I?” Rye asked. 

“Oh, drunk enough to feel free from any and all inhibition. You said that you never felt more free in your whole life and that you were going to stop being a prick. You wanted to have a bit of fun and you wanted to be free,” Bloody Velvet replied. 

“You were laughing and happy, which is why we went along with what you wanted,” Mousy said. The earth pony smiled, a soft gentle smile. “As for the reason why I have a sore arsehole… Starjammer and I took you to bed and you shagged me. It was the first time for both of us. He helped us get the most out of it. But you didn’t bugger me arsehole the first time we did it, that came later.” 

“Later?” Rye shook his head, still remembering nothing. 

“Well, when you were still all wet and slick from having your way with me, you grabbed Starjammer and made him your mare… I watched… and I must confess, I enjoyed myself quite a bit… it was steamy. I didn’t know how I felt about that sort of thing when we started, but watching you two go at it, watching Starjammer get the shudders as you buggered him, I had myself a case of the shivers myself.” 

Rye Mash closed his eyes and tried to not throw up his orange juice all over the floor. 

“I wanted to know what it felt like, Starjammer seemed to be enjoying it, he sounded just like a mare when you pinned him down on his belly and started licking his ear.” Mousy took a deep breath, licked her lips, and watched as Rye Mash opened his eyes. 

“So, I asked you to give me a good buggering, and you did.” Mousy’s tail twitched. “And that is why I have a sore arse and the bed is a sopping mess. You shagged both of us, Rye Mash.” 

For the second time that morning, Rye Mash puked all over the floor. 
	
> Chapter 28
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was difficult pulling one’s self together after everything had been pulled apart. The sounds of Rye Mash’s shallow breathing filled his own ears, echoed in his head, and made him feel dizzy as the sound caused him pain. He still had to meet with Princess Celestia. The day would continue with him or without him. He had duties to attend to, a job to perform. 

Bloody Velvet, when asked why she would let this happen, had informed him that she wasn’t his mother and was in no way responsible for him—a statement which Rye found himself in agreement with. When pressed for information, Bloody Velvet had leveled him, coming into his mind and showing him from a different set of eyes, Velvet’s eyes, and he had seen himself. He had been happy, laughing, jolly, carefree, there could be no doubt that he had wanted it. The alcohol had worn away his inhibitions and had freed him. He had experienced a wonderful time, even if he couldn’t remember it. 

For whatever reason, Mousy was avoiding him, at least it felt that way. She and Bloody Velvet had vanished with one another and Rye had no idea what they were doing, what they might be talking about, or how they might be conspiring against him. 

Starjammer was gone, he had been summoned to see Princess Celestia, Starjammer had refused at first, but Princess Celestia was not one that would be or could be denied. With great reluctance and a fair bit of fear, Starjammer had gone to speak with Princess Celestia, and Rye had been left by himself with nopony to talk to. 

Which was, perhaps for the best. Rye was still trying to get his head together and Starjammer never had very much to say. Rye wasn’t even certain what could be said between them at this point, other than they had shared a visceral experience with one another. 

With slow release, Rye let a sigh escape. There was no point in regretting it, Rye’s reservations and hangups had kept him from getting something he had wanted, of that there could be no doubt. He had wanted it, ever since that first confusing kiss that Starjammer had given him, but Rye was more concerned about being proper. Bloody Velvet had flashed him with her memories of the event… Rye had seen himself as others had seen him, it was a profound, meaningful moment in his life, a life changing moment, and he realised he was grateful for what Velvet had done. 

Grateful or not, he still had no answers about what to do next. A part of his mind suggested that he was getting hung up again, he was getting all uptight, he was focusing too much on how to go about doing this the proper way, the perfect way, with all of the right rules, the right things done, with everything as it should be. 

While thinking about this, Rye had himself something of a revelation—he was a pirate. He paused, his mind correcting him, he was a privateer with a commission from the Crowned Head of Equestria absolving him of his crimes, past, present, and future. Privateers followed the rules because they obeyed the contracts they were given. 

Alone, Rye let out a groan. This is what had made him such a good servant. He held a deep concern for the rules, for order, for doing what was right, he was a slave to order. Last night, he had freed himself from such concerns for a while, had done something random, spontaneous, and unpredictable. Now, he was once again a slave to order, married to a near stranger. Another form of servitude. Or was it? Why did he have to think about it as servitude? 



 

Princess Celestia’s ship was quite a wonder. Rye stood on the deck, his eyes wide and staring. Unicorns and pegasi moved about on the deck, doing whatever it was that they were doing. Rye could smell pine oil soap coming from somewhere, perhaps the deck was being scrubbed. He didn’t know. He could smell bread baking, fragrant steam was rising from a vent, no doubt there was some kitchen down below. This wasn’t a ship so much as it was a flying palace. Curiously enough, Rye Mash saw no earth ponies anywhere. None at all. Pegasi could fly and fight while unicorns could deal with fine detail work. Rye realised that earth ponies would be superfluous on a crew such as this. The unicorns could deal with heavy loads and moving cargo by using their telekinesis. 

It was a profound moment of realisation for Rye. He stared at the visual evidence that earth ponies were unnecessary in this life. Captain Spyglass kept a fair number of earth ponies around, but almost all of them were used for moving goods when they reached port. In the air, earth ponies could not fly, could not wield weapons, (at least in a general sense, they still had their own hooves) and were quite limited as to what they were capable of. 

Now, Rye could see that they were not needed at all, and something about the sights around him made him feel sad. Earth ponies had the short end of the stick in life. No magic, no wings, just garden variety ponies. Rye wondered why Spyglass even had earth ponies in his crew when it seemed that labourers could be found in any port. Thoughtful, Rye realised that Captain Spyglass had to have a reason and it was probably a good one. 

Then, he saw her. The tall figure moving toward him, wearing a bright blue cloak. Her face was obscured under the heavy folds of fabric. He squinted, the sun making him feel nauseous, and he wondered why he was meeting with Princess Celestia in private rather than with Captain Spyglass, as had been planned. 

His head still ached and more than anything, he wanted to crawl back into bed. He lifted his head, trying to stand a little taller, trying to look a little more dignified as Princess Celestia approached. 

“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Princess Celestia said as she approached. 

Rye nodded, but said nothing. 

“Many of my guard celebrate the first issue of their pay by going out, having a nice time, then having too nice a time, and waking up in the morning with wives they had met the night before.” Princess Celestia’s voice was soft, gentle, one of instruction and wisdom. “Walk with me, Mister Mash, getting the blood flowing should help your head.” 

Obedient, Rye fell into step with Princess Celestia as she took off at a trot. He bit down on his lip, not knowing what to say or to do, not knowing why he was here speaking to her without his captain. 

“What do you plan to do, Mister Mash?” Princess Celestia asked. 

“I don’t know,” Rye replied, his voice low. He looked up at the alicorn beside him, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and why she was talking to him about this when there were far more important things to discuss. “You have the wisdom of centuries… do you have any advice?” 

“Very few ponies respect my ‘wisdom of centuries,’ Mister Mash.” 

To Rye Mash’s ears, Princess Celestia’s voice now sounded guarded, low, almost flat, she almost sounded surprised, or perhaps he was hearing things. It took Rye several steps to keep up with just one of Princess Celestia’s steps and he followed her as she walked around the deck, looking up at her, trying to be attentive. 

“Miss Mousy strikes me as being quite perceptive, smart, courageous, and capable.” Princess Celestia paused, taking a deep breath, and then continued, “Tell me, how did the two of you meet?” 

“I sort of rescued her from thugs and ruffians,” Rye replied. 

“Ah, yes… young maids tend to want to marry their rescuers. You have to trust somepony in this life, and who better than the individual that proves themselves trustworthy by saving your life?” The tall white alicorn turned her head and looked down at Rye, her face still hidden under her hood. 

“I don’t get it. We hardly even know one another. We’re strangers.” Rye cleared his throat, aware that Princess Celestia was looking at him, but he felt uncomfortable because he could not look into her eyes. He felt small, feeling more like a colt, and he had a growing sense of insecurity. He was a foal next to this strange creature, this alicorn, this embodiment of the three tribes. 

“Mister Mash, fillies and young mares want the same thing that everypony else wants in life. A sense of security. A feeling of protection. We all desire the same things, sustenance, shelter, and security. Try to see the world through her eyes. She is an earth pony, she is clearly quite clever, she has her mind and little else. She has no wings, so no means to fly away from trouble, and she has no horn, which means no magic to back up her intelligence. To find the sustenance, the shelter, and the security she craves, it means finding a like minded companion that can shore up her shortcomings.” 

Tail swishing, Rye nodded, understanding a bit more. “So a practical arrangement.” He blinked, almost stopping. “What about love?” 

“What does love have to do with anything? Sustenance, shelter, security.” Princess Celestia’s voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “Love is a luxury, something you have if you are lucky, if you are graced, if life sees fit to give you extra. Love is something you figure out if you have after you have your sustenance, shelter, and security sorted out. If you have a good partnership with somepony and both of your mutual needs are being met, one does not sully their practical relationship with love, thus risking their very existence. But, should love happen, if you are lucky to have it blossom, it is pleasant to experience.” 

“So marriage isn’t about love?” Rye asked. 

“Most of the time, no it is not,” Princess Celestia replied. “Love is something that happens in story books… more often than not, love is the undoing of many good relationships. But it is nice when you can find it. Love is a treasured, many splendored thing.” Princess Celestia let out a cough, a wheeze, and then drew in a deep breath. “Many of my guards keep the wives they wake up with. The seasons roll by and the seasons pass. They settle in with their wives, become affectionate with time and familiarity. They have foals, become a family, life goes on. They exist together, either as partners, as friends, or as lovers for those lucky few. The seasons and time have their way with them, as seasons and time have their way with all, and one of them passes. The survivor realises how lucky they were to have a good partner, a good mate, they understand how blessed they were by fate and chance to wake up next to the pony they would spend their lives with after a drunken night of revelry. Such is the way that life works. I have watched this play out for thousands of turns of the seasons now. I can say that by averages, based upon my observations, of the happiest marriages I have seen, the couple started out as strangers, a chance encounter, usually involving alcohol, a simple twist of fate.” 

Rye Mash did not know how to respond to everything Princess Celestia had said. He felt overwhelmed. How could he argue or deny the reasoning of a being that had seen thousands of turns of the seasons, by her own words? 

“Mister Mash, marriage is a lot like claiming land. You do what you must, by hook or by crook, you claim or you seize what you have an interest in, and then after laying a claim to it, or after taking it, you do what you can to make the land yours. You build a homestead. You build walls for defense. The important thing is that you have the land, you figure out what to do with it after you have it. With land comes sustenance, shelter, and security.” 

To Rye’s ears, Princess Celestia sounded like a patient schoolteacher. A somewhat sick, weakened schoolteacher. She did not sound well. To show that he was listening, he acknowledged her words. “I think I have a better understanding now… maybe. I still need time to think and sort everything out.” 

Thoughtful, Rye, who thought himself intelligent, noticed that Princess Celestia kept using three words over and over. Sustenance, shelter, and security. As he trotted beside her, he gave these words some thought and considered how they applied to him. 

When he was a servant, he hardly ever had to worry about where his next meal came from. Sure, most of them were not very good meals, but he had food. He had to have food to function, and Lace Collar had made certain that he was fed. Rye had a roof over his head. He had lived among the very wealthy and the privileged. The roof over his head had been far better than those who lived in shacks. He had lived a sheltered, comfortable enough, well to do existence acting as Lace Collar’s servant. As for security, for most of his existence as a servant, he had been kept safe. Looking back on it all, he understood why he had been such a happy servant, an obedient and well heeled servant that jumped at his master’s every order. 

As a servant, as an indentured servant, he had enjoyed a level of sustenance, shelter, and security not available to the common pony. He now understood why ponies lined up to be servants for the wealthy; butlers, maids, scullery maids, chambermaids, nannies, nursemaids, by giving up some of their freedom and making themselves beholden to wealthy masters, they too, enjoyed a level of sustenance, shelter, and security that would otherwise be outside of their reach. 

Then, it dawned upon him. Mousy was not the sort who would be happy in servitude, at least, that was Rye’s well reasoned guess, so she had turned to less than legal activities as a means to provide for her own needs. 

For Mousy, marriage must have been preferable to outright servitude, a means to an end. As for Rye himself, he had picked up a gun, he had armed himself. He now had the means to provide for his own sustenance, shelter, and security. Rye was never going back to servitude; while there was happiness in having your needs provided for, there could be happiness in slavery, Rye would never go back. Giving up his own personal liberty was not something that Rye had any desire to do. 

“You have become quiet and thoughtful, my little pony,” Princess Celestia said to Rye. 

Hearing Princess Celestia, Rye Mash had started to reply, his mouth opened, but no words came out. He wasn’t feeling very good, he was still hungover, and his mind was racing with all manner of profound thoughts. 

“I wanted to speak with you alone, Mister Mash, because you impressed me. Most ponies would have surrendered their weapons and stood down. You remained defiant. Foolish, perhaps, reckless, perhaps, but you stuck to your guns in the most literal sense. I wanted to get to know you better as a pony. I must confess, I still have some reservations about entrusting the safety and welfare of my student into your care.” 

“I probably didn’t do a very good job of assuring you by going out and doing what I did,” Rye Mash replied, now feeling very self conscious about what he had done. “I am never drinking again, ever.” 

“So many little ponies say that after a night of drinking and waking up with a new wife or husband.” Princess Celestia let out a weak chuckle. “I do believe that the world would end if alcohol ceased to flow.” 

“No, I mean it, I’m never drinking again… I can accept the consequences of waking up married, I’ll live with that and I will make it right, but strong drink opens up too many opportunities for one to lose his liberty.” Rye Mash flogged his brain for a metaphor, some clever means to drive his point home, and he chewed upon his lip as he tried to think. 

“It pleases me to hear you say that.” 

Ears perking, he looked at Princess Celestia, hearing her words. He gave a nod of acknowledgement, was distracted for a moment by the shrieking of seagulls, and then knew what he wanted to say, how he could express himself. “Drinking like that is like giving over my guns… I can no longer be responsible for myself, I cannot defend my own liberties, and surrendering my guns is something that I will never allow myself to do, ever. Imbibing strong drink undermines my self standards.” 

The pair walked in silence, Rye Mash trying to keep up with the much longer stride of the princess beside him. He could hear her laboured breathing, it was clear that she was sick, something was wrong, but she struck him as being far too proud to acknowledge it or let it slow her down. As he walked, he watched a group of unicorns scrubbing the deck along the rails where birds had been sitting. 

The silence became stifling, Rye felt as though he should be saying something, that there should be conversation, that was why he was here after all, he had only been quiet so he could listen to whatever Princess Celestia had to say. But now, the silence had the wrong feel to it, it felt as though something needed to be said, but he didn’t know what. Princess Celestia was trying to learn more about him, what sort of pony he was, she was looking for reassurance that her student could be found and that her student would be safe. 

Rye Mash issued a challenge to his brain—try to find something reassuring to say to the alicorn princess beside him. Something heartfelt, sincere, and meaningful. Whatever she was, an alicorn, a princess, she was also a mare, a pony. She had to have all of the same sorts of fear, worries, and doubt he did. Princess Celestia also needed sustenance, shelter, and security, or so Rye reasoned. 

As he thought about this, Princess Celestia fell to the deck with a thump beside him. Rye cried out, startled, fearful, he stood wide eyed and staring at her fallen form. Blood began to pool around her muzzle, gushing from both nostrils. Not even giving it a second thought, he lifted her head away from the deck, pulling back her hood, trying to keep the blood from staining her white pelt. There were black circles around her eyes, which were closed, and she did not look well. 

Lifting his head at the sound of approaching guards, Rye panicked. “I didn’t do anything!” 

“We know,” a guard replied as he approached, “we were watching. Please, keep holding her head, if you don’t mind.” The guard, a gruff looking pegasus, looked around. “Somepony go get some cloths. We’re going to need a few unicorns to carry her belowdecks!” 

“What is wrong with her?” Rye asked as he continued to cradle Princess Celestia’s head in his telekinesis. His eyes narrowed and his face became pinched with concern, it was strange watching an alicorn bleed, strange and more than a little frightening. She was the Goddess of the Sun, Immortal, Just, and True. Watching blood as it gushed from her nostrils was terrifying. What could do this to her? 

The guard’s expression soured. “She won’t tell us… she is far too proud. But something is working against her.” The guard’s scowl intensified. “Should you find the cause for her malady when you go hunting for her student, I hope that you will put lots of bullets into whomever or whatever is responsible for this.” 

Rye nodded, “Oh, believe me, I shall…” 
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 29
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	There was no feeling worse than being in the dark about something that was going on. Rye Mash hated it, he felt frustrated and angry as he stood upon the deck of The Apogee looking over at Princess Celestia’s ship. Unable to do anything, Rye stomped his hoof and as he did so, he heard the fluttering of wings, the sound of feathers cutting through wind. 

“Mister Mash—” 

Rye did not look at his captain, but remained focused on Princess Celestia’s ship. 

“—I had a pegasus from the guard come over and tell me what happened.” Captain Spyglass folded his wings against his sides and moved beside Rye. “I was told that you acted like a perfect gentlepony, and that you impressed all of those who observed you.” 

“I wasn’t trying to impress anypony,” Rye replied.

Looking solemn, Spyglass cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, you did, and it means a great deal to me. Mister Mash, as ponies of fortune, we have little but our reputation. While I must confess that I was furious with you for not surrendering your guns, it seems that it has worked out for the best. Princess Celestia was impressed by your,” the pegasus’ face contorted as he thought about the right words to say, “display of defiance.” Captain Spyglass relaxed a bit, his ears splaying out sideways from his head. “We’ll be leaving soon, we have kindly been provided with a lead. We’ll be heading to Cheval Rouge, a city to the north of here in Fancy.” 

“Good, I’d like to get started.” Rye’s brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. 

“Mister Mash, this is going to be a bloody business… I’d like to keep as much of my crew out of it as possible—” 

“I understand,” Rye said, cutting in and nodding his head. 

One eye squinting, the other eye wide, Spyglass gave Rye a curious look. He could sense the anger coming from his cabin colt, the frustration, the eagerness. Captain Spyglass came to the unsettling conclusion that Rye Mash wanted the bloody business to start… Rye wanted to be in the middle of it. Rye was one of those sorts of ponies. 

“She is a majestic creature, isn’t she?” Spyglass asked in a low voice. 

“Yes, she is,” Rye replied. 

“I still don’t know how I feel about getting involved in this.” Captain Spyglass’ eyes glanced over at Princess Celestia’s airship. Guards marched on the deck and the sound of ironshod hooves could be heard from where the pegasus stood on The Apogee. 

“It feels like the right thing to do,” Rye said, his voice dropping, almost to a whisper. 

“Speaking of the right thing to do…” Captain Spyglass’ words trailed off as he turned to look at Rye. “Are you going to do right by Miss Mousy?” 

Rye’s ears fell, drooping against his cheeks. He turned to look at his captain. “She caught me fair and square. I allowed myself to be caught. I intend to do what is right.” 

“Good, I would be disappointed with you otherwise.” Captain Spyglass drew in a deep breath, his sides expanding, and his wings flapped once against his sides. “Several of my crew got married during shore leave. They have all asked to be left here. I’ve taken on several new crew members… ah, Sable Blanc. The young and the hopeful come here, both fillies and colts, all of them looking for a ship to enter the harbour. For fillies of the right age, each ship brings a chance to marry, and for colts, a ship is a means of escape, a chance to see the world. Much of my crew once boarded a ship in a harbour just like this one, and now that they have seen the world, they are ready to settle down. A young maid is happy to catch them. Such is the way of life. After settling down, the young couple has a few foals. Time passes. In time, there is a new filly waiting for ships on the horizon, bringing with them a chance for a husband, or a colt watching and waiting for a ship to take him away from this boring place, giving him a chance for adventure on the high sea or in the clouds. But the circle of life begins and ends in little towns like this one.” 

Blinking, Rye took in his captain’s words. 

“Mister Mash, I have lived long enough that I have seen this drama play out an endless number of times now.” Captain Spyglass sighed. “So many ponies walk in and out of my life. Crab Apple is leaving us, Mister Mash. He will be returning home upon one of Princess Celestia’s ships.” 

“Why now, of all times?” Rye asked. 

“He has earned the wealth that he was looking for. With the pardon I secured for him from Princess Celestia, he feels it is time to get away from this life while he still can. I shall miss him a great deal, I liked him.” Captain Spyglass’ mane lifted in the strong breeze and his feathers ruffled. He breathed in the tangy, salty air, his nostrils flaring. 

“Captain Spyglass, if you will excuse me, I am going to go and speak with my wife.” 



 

Belowdecks was a mess. The smell of wood was strong in the air, along with sawdust. It seemed that some carpentry was going on. A few strange unicorns that Rye didn’t know, along with a few minotaurs, were doing some woodworking. Rye could hear the sounds of sawing and of hammering, which filled his head with a throbbing ache. It seemed the cabins were being rebuilt to be more efficient. 

Looking around, he saw no sign of Mousy or Bloody Velvet. Much to his surprise, Starjammer was working with the carpenters, Rye couldn’t believe that Starjammer would sully himself with common labour, yet the quiet stallion of few words was building a door frame. From somewhere out of line of sight, he could hear Oola singing something as she worked, some song about a hammer. 

The sawdust in the air made Rye feel like sneezing. He fled the area, turning tail, heading back up the stairs, and then emerged out upon the deck. No sign of Mousy or Bloody Velvet anywhere. Or Woe Betide, now that he thought about it. 

Frowning, Rye wondered if Bloody Velvet and Mousy were avoiding him. What if Mousy had herself a change of heart? What if she wanted out of this? Or what if Velvet was trying to get Mousy to reconsider? His head still hurt too much to think about this. He needed a quiet place, a dark place, a place with no sun, no sound, a peaceful place to rest his head, but no such place seemed to exist at the moment. 

Somepony was trying to put an end to the Alicorn of the Sun, which would no doubt plunge the world into darkness, his new wife and his friend seemed to be avoiding him, his head hurt, and he had no quiet place to retreat to. This was turning out to be a wretched day. Rye closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together. 

Perhaps he could go into town, find a quiet cafe, and have a nice cup of tea. 



 

Rye Mash gave a bleary stare up at the wooden sign. “Tarte et Café.” Rye had no clue what the words meant, but there was a picture of a pie and a cup on the sign. Lines had been carved into the wood over the pie and the cup, a visual representation of steam rising. 

In front of the cafe, there was a unicorn painting on a battered looking easel, a large mug of some hot, steaming beverage beside him, along with a baguette, a wedge of cheese, and a bottle of wine, still corked. The unicorn was painting a bowl of fruit, an act which baffled Rye Mash. Why would anypony paint a bowl of fruit? He did not understand art sometimes. 

He pushed open the door and was hit by a rush of cool air. Inside the cafe, it was cool, delightfully so, it was dim, the air was fragrant with the smell of baked goods, tea, and coffee. 

“Welcome to Monsieur Cake’s bakery, sailor,” an older mare behind the counter said. “I am Mademoiselle Petits Pains, but most of our customers call me Madam Buns, or just Buns.” The older mare smiled and gestured at the empty cafe. “Sit anywhere you like. You came in during an off hour. Most are busy working… we get most of our business during the lunch hour or during the evening, when a pony wishes to unwind.” 

The cafe’s interior was almost all stone. Stone floor, stone walls, stone counters, all of it cool and inviting. The tables appeared to be old barrels cut in half and set upon the floor. There were no chairs, just worn out looking pillows and cushions left scattered around the half barrel tables. The interior was dim, almost dark, and there was a peculiar stench in the air that made the back of the Rye’s throat tickle. He stood, sniffing, trying to figure out what the horrible smell was. It was like rancid milk left in the sun, but worse, far, far worse. 

“Smells marvellous, doesn’t it?” the old mare asked. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and then opened her eyes as her smile widened. “We make monster cheese… there is a batch aging in the cellar… we take the finest goats, scare them with the finest monsters, and it produces a most merveilleux fromage.” 

“Oh.” Rye stared at the mare, wondering if she was pulling his leg. 

“My granpapa has experimented with using a cockatrice to stare at the cheese… it makes the cheese very hard, gives it a rock solid rind, but it also gives the cheese a most unusual but pleasant flavour. It is rather nutty,” the chatty old mare said to Rye as the colt sat down upon a faded purple pillow with tassels on each of the four corners. 

“I’d like a cup of tea, please. And maybe something to eat… I’m suffering from a hangover… I don’t know what sounds good to eat right now.” Rye leaned against the half barrel table, his head aching, and his stomach turning from the stench creeping up out from the cellar. 

“Oui, Monsieur, I have what you need,” the mare replied, her smile vanishing as a look of genuine concern took over her features. Hooves clicking, the mare darted through a doorway and vanished, leaving Rye all alone. 

Sighing, Rye decided that he liked the older unicorn mare. He rested against his half barrel table, his forelegs folded over the heavy, well worn and well polished wood. He heard the clatter of metal coming from some back room, the sound caused his ears to twitch and made him grimace in pain. But then the silence returned and Rye felt a little better. 

He dug out his coin purse from a pouch on his body harness and set it out on the table. He belched, a sour taste flooding his mouth, and he shuddered as the foul smell of his own breath violated his nostrils. 

The mare reappeared, bearing a tray. She hurried through the room, moving with care and near silence, her hoofsteps muffled against the stone floor. Standing by Rye’s table, she put down a large mug, a teapot, a small bowl of heavy cream, a jar of honey, a plate of some pastries, and a large wedge of pie. 

The pie was strange and Rye stared at it. 

“Quiche,” the mare said before Rye could speak. “A pie made from eggs, cheese, and vegetables. Today’s quiche has spinach, fennel, leeks, and eggplant. I assure you, it will make you feel better.” There was a soft clunk of metal as the mare set down a spoon beside the slice of pie. “Bon appétit.” 

The mare bowed and then hurried away. Rye watched her go and heard her say, “Forgive me, but there are things in the oven that must come out… we are preparing for the rush of evening.” 

Rye realised that the mare had not collected payment. Bleary eyed, he blinked a few times, not knowing what to do, then, shrugging, he lifted up his spoon in his telekinesis, poked at his strange pie, and took a bite. 

It was hot, but not too hot. It was eggy, it was cheesy, it oozed with buttery flavour, and Rye found that he was, indeed, hungry. He tore into his slice of quiche with gusto, gobbling it down, forgetting all about his good manners. 

As he shoveled the last bite of quiche into his mouth, the door to the cafe opened. Rye lifted his head while smacking his lips and chewing. What he saw surprised him. He sat there, blinking, and his food almost fell out of his mouth. 

Mousy and Bloody Velvet had entered. Something was different about Mousy and Velvet, but Rye could only stare at Mousy. She was shiny, sleek, her pelt was slick looking, her mane had been trimmed and so had her tail. Rye’s spoon clattered to the table with a metallic thump of silver on wood. 

“And here he is… I told you I would find him,” Velvet said to Mousy. Smiling, Velvet gave Mousy a nudge, a wink, and a nod. “I’m going to leave you two alone.” Velvet turned her head and looked at Rye, giving him a distasteful scowl. “Rye, darling, close your mouth. It’s full of food.” 

With that, Bloody Velvet backed out of the door and was gone, leaving Rye and Mousy alone in the cafe. Mousy, looking shy, approached Rye’s table, her tail swishing from side to side as she moved, her eyes focused on Rye with a bashful stare.

“Velvet insisted that I get groomed… she said that every husband deserves to see his bride in a state of perfection at least once,” Mousy said as she sat down at the table with Rye. “Do you like what you see?” 

Nodding, Rye swallowed with a gulp and continued to stare. He was so focused on Mousy that he failed to notice the older mare creeping up on the table, silent, moving with a wide grin, until she set down a bit more food and a second mug. He glanced at her, and once again, he forgot to bring up the matter of his bill to Madam Buns. 

She was gone in the bat of an eyelash, vanishing back through the door and into the kitchen, leaving Rye and Mousy in awkward silence. Rye poured himself a cup of tea, almost spilling it, and then poured one for Mousy. 

Rye added cream and honey to both cups as he kept glancing up at Mousy. She looked radiant, that was the only word he could think of to describe her. She was happy, joyful, and scared. Looking at her, Rye could see it. Seeing her fear made him feel better, he wasn’t the only one feeling some trepidation about all of this. 

“Rye, I have a confession, I almost ran away,” Mousy whispered as Rye stirred both teacups. “Velvet knew what I was thinking and she stopped me. I’m sorry… I…” 

Looking into Mousy’s eyes, he saw a lot more fear now and a lot less joy and happiness. Her mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. Her ears were limp against her face. Her eyes began to glisten. 

“They only tell you to catch a husband… find a worthwhile colt or a stallion and then finagle your way into marriage.” Mousy shook her head as more words spilled out and she blinked away tears. “I’ll admit, about five minutes after I met you, I was plotting on how I would win you over or trick you into marriage… you seemed a bit too clever and dangerous to con so I thought I would endear myself to you somehow. I didn’t expect for you to come to me and when you did, I told you no… I didn’t expect myself to do that, I found that I actually liked you and for a moment, I felt wrong about what I had wanted.” 

Rye’s ears stood at attention while Mousy poured her heart to him. 

“A filly is told over and over about how to catch a colt or a stallion, but nopony ever told me what to do with one once I caught him,” Mousy said in a low whisper as she tapped her front hooves together. “I got scared, Rye. I thought about running. I’m a grifter, Rye, and an earth pony. All I have is my wits. When trouble comes, all I can do is run and hope for the best.” She turned away, her barrel rising and falling as she breathed. “I’m sorry… I don’t mean to be all weepy.” Mousy sniffled and stared down into her tea. 

“As I recall, you were about to be married when we met.” Rye lifted a pastry off of the small plate beside his teacup. It had some kind of purple-red jelly, was flaky, and smelled sour. He stuffed it into his mouth and puckered up from the tart flavour of some kind of berries. 

“Yes,” Mousy sighed, shaking her head, and her eyes narrowed. “He was awful, I couldn’t marry him, he got off on hurting fillies. I heard stories… I’ve almost been married a few times now… I’m ashamed to admit.” 

“A few times?” Rye asked. 

“I ain’t proud about it,” Mousy replied, “I did tell you I’m a grifter.” 

“What happened?” Rye ate another tart and then slid a few over to Mousy. 

“Well, during some particularly hard times, I might have led on a few well to do ponies enough to get some gifts along with talk of marriage. My former accomplices and I might have concocted a few clever ruses to make a few wealthy marks believe I was something that I was not… one suitor believed I was the unfortunate earth pony daughter of a wealthy unicorn diplomat, who would be very, very grateful if somepony took pity on his poor, unfortunate daughter that had been born an earth pony and married her. As it turns out, my so called ‘father’ was my accomplice and my former boss, a unicorn named Fortunato. The pony that wanted to marry me showered me and Fortunato with gifts.” 

“So what happened? How did this end?” Rye, curious, took a sip of tea and waited for Mousy to tell him. 

“The mark had a friend that got worried and did a little investigating at the embassy. Fortunato and I were hunted. I got out of the city, Liverypool, and from what I hear, they sealed Fortunato up inside of a wall, bricking him in,” Mousy paused and looked Rye in the eye, “what a horrible way to go.” 

“But you got away—” 

“Fortunato made certain that I got away. He gave me money and got me out of the city… he was good to me… he was into stallions and I felt safe with him… he never tried to do anything awful to me and we did a lot of father-daughter scams. I was his meal ticket and he was my protection.” Mousy’s eyes became glassy with tears that she blinked away. “It’s hard being an earth pony and it’s even harder being a female. Life doesn’t give you a lot of options, the big cities are horrible places… I didn’t want to be a harlot, a warm inviting hole ready at a moment’s notice. I tried being honest and pulling a cab for a while, but that was dangerous… I had passengers that wanted me to take them to less than desireable places and I knew what would happen to me if I took them there… it just isn’t safe for a female to be pulling a cab.” 

Scowling, Rye nodded. It wasn’t safe to be a servant either, he recalled the many times he had warned a filly or a young mare fresh to the job not to be alone in a room where certain colts or stallions might prey upon them. He also recalled the pained looks upon the faces of the fillies and young mares that had not listened to what he had to say. The broken, defeated, pained looks… even worse, many of those fillies and young mares kept working after the fact, needing the job, and having no other recourse. 

Tilting his head, Rye watched as Mousy lowered herself down and began lapping up tea from out of her cup. He saw her orange tongue flicking out from between her lips, and then, her mouth puckering, she placed her lips down into her tea so she could slurp some up. He saw her eyes darting upwards, looking at him, and he could see her shy, bashful expression. She looked ashamed. 

It was hard to tell if he was being conned and Rye wished that Velvet was here. He supposed it was in Mousy’s better interests to be honest with him. Velvet had no doubt had a few choice words with Mousy, or so Rye guessed. From the kitchen, there was a soft clatter, which caused Rye and Mousy’s ears to twitch. 

“I’ve done some bad things but I’m not a bad pony,” Mousy whispered as she lifted her head and tea dribbled down her chin. “I can be good to you if you give me a chance. I can be a better pony if you give me a chance. Bloody Velvet… she… she—” 

“She what?” Rye asked as Mousy gave him a fearful look. 

“She said that if I did you wrong that she… well, never mind what she said.” Mousy shivered, her teeth clattering together, and she looked at Rye. “I suppose they call her Bloody Velvet for a reason.” 

“So… partners then? You watch my back, I’ll watch yours, and while we might have some… questionable dealings with others, we remain honest and true to each other?” Rye Mash gazed into Mousy’s eyes and felt his heart quicken. She was pretty, he could not deny that. 

“I can do that,” Mousy replied as she batted her eyelashes at Rye. 

Rye Mash, who was feeling a little better now, found himself entranced with Mousy. “I’m looking forward to our mutually beneficial partnership…” 
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 30
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“You wanted to see me?” Rye Mash looked at the stricken alicorn laying in her bed. Her body twitched, she shivered, and her eyes were unfocused. He felt a growing feeling of concern and unease when he looked upon Princess Celestia. 

He had returned to The Apogee with Mousy when he had been approached by one of Princess Celestia’s guards, telling him that he was wanted. Rye had come at once, worried, and Mousy had come with him, insisting on remaining by his side. 

Princess Celestia’s laboured breathing was heavy in his ears and her eyes seemed to be staring through him. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, as if she was being consumed by some terrible fever. She was sweaty, the parts of her not covered by her blanket were slick and shiny. 

“Stella… old tongue… it means star,” Princess Celestia managed to say in between panting gasps. “The stars... will aid... in her escape… star magic… is rare… and powerful… you must hurry.” 

Rye’s ears perked forwards, he did not understand. He lowered his head and he heard the clank of armor as a guard shifted position. When he was almost nose to nose with Princess Celestia, he realised that he could smell the sickness, that smell that ponies got from sweat, illness, high fever, and something going wrong with their insides. A chilly ache permeated his guts and terminated in his balls with a stabbing throb, making the entirety of his nether regions clench. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Rye said in a soft voice. 

“The world… will be… lost… to darkness.” Princess Celestia’s halting, stammering speech came out as little more than a fevered, almost delirious sounding whisper. “Great evil… locked away… but the stars… the stars… are hers... I cannot… control them… any longer… something else… seeks… to… free… her.” 

“Who?” Rye asked. He blinked. “I don’t understand… free what?” 

“Darkness,” Princess Celestia replied, exhaling the word in a breathy utterance. 

Confused, Rye stood there, not knowing what to do, what to say, or even how to respond. Princess Celestia was no doubt consumed by fever, he could see it, smell it, he could feel it radiating from her, it was like standing next to a furnace. She wasn’t making a lot of sense. 

“You… have to… hurry, Rye,” Princess Celestia whispered. 

Drawing in a deep breath, flogging his brain for what to say or do, Rye was about to say something when Princess Celestia’s horn flashed. The room was filled with brilliant light, leaving Rye blinded. He blinked, trying to recover his vision, and he had the strangest sensation that he was falling. 



 

Shivering, Rye found himself standing in a forest. It was dark, it was cold, and he had no idea what he was doing here. The sky overhead was black, black as pitch, and there were no stars. A strange silverish light offered faint illumination, but Rye could not tell where the light was coming from. His body harness was gone, he had no guns, no means to defend himself. 

The trees were enormous, massive, and twisted. This forest was old, Rye could smell the scent of decaying wood and the sharp tang of forest loam beneath his hooves. Fungal growths protruded from the trunks of the trees, extending like empty shelves. Rye looked around, trying to figure out where the faint silver light was coming from. There were no stars, there was no moon, the sky was as black as a funeral shroud. The trees had no leaves, they were withered, naked, the skeletal trees of autumn. 

“Who dares to enter my realm?” 

The voice was cold, imperious, and regal. Hearing it made Rye shiver even harder. The voice echoed through the trees and the only other sound that Rye could hear was the sound of his own teeth chattering. His eyes darted to the left, then to the right, and his ears perked as he tried to discover the source of the sound. 

“You do not have the magic to come here on your own… who might you be and why are you here?” 

Muscles clenching, Rye Mash ground his teeth together, refusing to let them chatter for a second longer. He swallowed, summoning his courage, but on the inside, he quailed as he felt his bowels turning to water. Something about the voice was terrifying. 

He started forwards, towards what he believed was the sound of the voice. His legs were stiff, difficult to move, and not from defiance. His whole body felt frozen, not just from the temperature, but from sheer terror. It felt as though his balls were being crushed in an icy vice. His guts ached as his innards twisted around inside of him like writhing serpents. 

Ahead there was a pool of water that glowed with a silvery blue light. He felt something grab him, something unseen, and he was dragged forwards, his hooves dragging through the rotting loam. He came to a halt at the edge of the pool, something grabbed his head, and he was forced to look down into the depths. 

The water darkened, turning black, like spilled ink. Something swirled in the depths and then, blinking, two eyes appeared in the maelstrom of darkness. Two eyes, dark teal, with reptilian slitted pupils. Black tendrils rose from the surface of the water, creeping towards Rye’s face. He tried to scream, but found he couldn’t. 

One of the black tendrils curled around Rye’s muzzle, holding his head in place, while yet another began to worm its way into his nostril. The tip of another began to work its way into the corner of his eye, trying to squeeze in, and even though Rye Mash very much wanted to scream, he found that he could not, even when he could feel something slithering behind his eyeball and burrowing into his brain. 

There was a brilliant red flash that blinded Rye, he blinked, trying to recover his vision, and he crumpled into a heap beside the pool of darkness. Whatever was trying to worm its way inside of his skull was now gone, but he couldn’t see what was going on. 

“Don’t you touch him!” 

Still blinking, still trying to clear his vision, Rye recognised the sound of Bloody Velvet’s voice. Somehow, she was here, and she meant business. He didn’t know what was going on, but he felt hopeful. 

“I don’t know who or what you are, but you’ve made a terrible mistake… I’ll end you for this!” Bloody Velvet shrieked. 

A blast of heat washed over Rye, driving the cold from his body, and now he felt a bit singed. The explosion did nothing to help his vision. He was blind, but he could hear. He heard fizzles, pops, the sounds of magic, and heard the sounds of water splashing. He felt a curious sensation in his navel, as though something was tugging on him from the inside. 

It was a bit uncomfortable at first, then it became a little painful, and then, without further ado, it became excruciating—Rye feared that he was about to be turned inside out. He tried to cry out in pain and couldn’t. He rolled over onto his back and felt something slither around his leg. Something was dragging him, he was being pulled down the slope and he realised he was being pulled into the pool of darkness. 

“NO!” Bloody Velvet commanded, her voice accompanied by a searing blast of heat. 

Rye felt himself let go. Confused, still blinded, he didn’t know what to do, but he tried crawling away from the pool before he was grabbed again. The tugging sensation inside of his navel grew in strength and Rye Mash endured the peculiar sensation that he imagined felt a lot like birth; he could feel his body being pulled through a hole that seemed far too small. 



 

Princess Celestia’s pale magenta eyes were boring a hole into him and Rye Mash found that he could not turn away. He was mesmerised, unable to move, scarcely even able to breathe, and his nose was pressed up against the alicorn’s graceful, but sweaty snoot. 

“Cerise Velvet… has… grown… powerful... she might… even be… the one… to restore… magic.” Princess Celestia’s panted words were hot and wet against Rye’s muzzle. “So… much… power… and… love… for… her… friends… she… might… be… the… one.” 

Whatever was holding Rye let go of him and he lifted his head, Princess Celestia’s eyes followed him, remaining locked upon him. Try as he might, he found he could not look away from her gaze, but he did manage to take a step backwards. 

Rye Mash, Rye Mash blinked as he heard Princess Celestia’s voice inside of his head, coming from in between his ears. You must hurry. Find Stella before it is too late. I was right to trust in both you and Velvet. Go and speak to her, she will know more of what to do. Trust in your friends, Rye… friendship is a magic all its own… it might be our last defense against what is surely coming. 

With a gasp, Princess Celestia’s eyes rolled up into her head and she went still, her breathing becoming shallow. Rye stood there, silent, now free of whatever enchantment that had held him. He was able to look around, and he saw Mousy staring at him, a fearful look upon her face. 

Lowering his head, Rye Mash pressed his muzzle against Princess Celestia’s, a gesture of affection, hoping to get some response out of her. There was none. She lay there, limp, unresponsive, and Rye felt hot tears lurking in the corners of his eyes seeing her in this state. 

After a moment, he pulled himself away, turned to look at Mousy, and then said, “I think I need to go and talk to Bloody Velvet.” 



 

“Rye, are you okay?” As Bloody Velvet spoke, Rye felt himself snatched in powerful magic and jerked forwards. Bloody Velvet was shaking far worse than usual, and as he found himself being examined. She looked into his eyes, gazed at his nose, checked his ears, and then rubbed her quivering, palsy afflicted cheek against his. 

“I’m fine,” Rye replied, “mind telling me what that was?” 

“I’m not sure, it was like the astral realm but different. I don’t know what that was. I just had the feeling that you were in danger and somehow, I knew where you were… what were you doing there? How did you end up in that place?” Bloody Velvet stepped back from Rye and continued to examine him, looking him over, her face fearful. “Injuries in the astral realm can be so real inside the mind that they can pass over into this world. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, really.” Rye took a deep breath. “I think Princess Celestia sent me there, I’m not sure what happened. She said some strange stuff and I don’t know what is going on. I’m not a very magical unicorn and I don’t know anything about this sort of stuff. What was that black thing anyhow?” 

“I don’t know.” Bloody Velvet’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s strong, whatever it is, might even be stronger than I am… if we have to fight it again, we’re in trouble… I was only able to hurt it because I was so angry… it was hurting you, Rye… I could see those… black… things digging their way into your head.” 

“Velvet, we need to hurry. She’s real sick. Something is horribly wrong. Something is trying to escape or something, the ciphers I’ve cracked even said something to that effect. They foalnapped Stella because of her star magic. Do you think it was whatever was in that pool?” 

“Might be, I don’t know. I don’t know enough about this sort of thing, but I know a pony who might. We need to make Starjammer talk somehow. He knows stuff. He’s scary smart and somehow, he knows stuff.” Bloody Velvet took a deep breath and began to try and calm down. 

In the distance, the sun was setting, appearing to sink down into the ocean. The first stars of evening began to twinkle. The wind kicked up and The Apogee bobbed in its mooring. The three ponies standing upon the deck exchanged a three way glance and then all three of them looked over at Princess Celestia’s ship. 

“How do I fight something like that… thing?” Rye asked. 

“You can’t, Rye, you can’t.” Bloody Velvet shook her head. “You’re too weak. It will devour you. I’m not sure if I could face it again, but I might have a better chance if Starjammer joined me. He’s strong, but he’s not experienced in astral projection.” The mare stood there, trembling, her Shivers causing her whole body to jerk and twitch. “Princess Celestia has some nerve doing what she did just to test us.” 

“This is bigger than us, Velvet,” Mousy said, finally getting up enough nerve to interject something into the conversation. “Better we get tested now and survive than later when the danger is greater and fail.” 

Bloody Velvet’s ears perked forwards and she studied the earth pony that stood beside Rye. “You keep surprising me, Mousy. You keep this up, and I might find myself liking you.” Bloody Velvet gave Mousy a nervous smile. “I’m going to go and talk with Captain Spyglass. Something tells me that we need to leave in a hurry. Rye, don’t go wandering off, you and I need to have a long talk with Starjammer so we can sort all of this out.” 
	
> Chapter 31
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Shivering, Rye Mash opened his eyes. He had been dreaming, but he could not remember what he had been dreaming about. He was cold, the air was chilly and he was sweating. He was in the top half of the bed, curled up, and Mousy was down at the foot of the bed, also curled up. She had stolen the blanket at some point in the night, made a nest, and was now asleep on top of it. 

For a moment, Rye Mash thought about cuddling up next to her so he could get warm. She was his wife now, it was supposed to be okay to do that sort of thing, but he didn’t feel comfortable about it for some reason. 

His new cabin was smaller, narrower, a space made just for him and Mousy. The interiour of The Apogee had been changed a fair bit to make it a bit more efficient as a living space. There was a folding table on the wall, the bed, and one comfortable chair in the corner. The room smelled of fresh cut wood, glue, and of Mousy’s perfume. 

Haunted by the eyes he had seen in the pool, Rye got out of bed, being careful not to disturb or wake Mousy from her sleep. He slipped away, making as little sound as possible, opened the door, stepped outside into the hallway, and decided that he needed some fresh night air. 



 

Emerging up on deck, Rye Mash saw that he wasn’t alone. Starjammer was sitting in the prow of the ship, staring off towards the starry horizon, the wind blowing his long, perfect mane around his face. Sniffing, Rye could smell whiskey, the strong heady scent of whiskey, and he felt his stomach turn just a little bit. 

With the soft thump of his hooves striking the wooden deck, Rye walked forwards, glad to have somepony else awake at this time of night. He felt apprehensive, nervous, he did not know why. He wondered why Starjammer was drinking. Was it thirst? Was he drowning his sorrows? What was he sad about? Had Celestia said something? Rye even wondered if Starjammer was pining for him for whatever reason. 

He felt very, very confused. Starjammer was more than a friend now, just like Mousy was more than an acquaintance. He and Starjammer had done a bit more than just share a confusing kiss. Rye did not know what was expected from him. He did not understand how their relationship had changed after what had happened. 

At that moment, Rye wanted to run away, not wanting to face the consequences or the changes that were sure to happen, but he found himself continuing towards Starjammer, as if drawn forward by some powerful invisible force. 

“Can’t sleep?” Rye asked in a low voice, his ears perking as he heard the creaking of the ships around him.

“Woe Betide had a nightmare,” Starjammer replied in a rather put out voice, “and I was tossed from Bloody Velvet’s warm bed.” 

Standing there, Rye marveled at the sound of Starjammer’s voice. It wasn’t often that he said much. Starjammer sounded a bit tipsy, a bit angry, a bit sad, he sounded as though he was going to be a drunken mess soon enough. 

“Can’t be mad at Woe.” Starjammer shook his head, his mane clinging to his cheeks, and then he took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey he was holding. “Or Velvet for that matter.” 

After scooting a little closer, Rye Mash sat down beside Starjammer, still not understanding their relationship, if they were friends, or how he should act. He watched Starjammer take another drink and Rye felt a stabbing sensation inside of his skull. He planned to stick with tea from here on out. 

“What did Princess Celestia talk to you about?” Rye asked, overcome by his own curiousity. He watched as Starjammer took another drink. He sat there, waiting for a reply, listening to the sounds of the faint crackle of the storm contained inside of the gasbag overhead. Soft ticking, the creaking of wood, and the wet slap of ocean waves down below. The salty smell of the ocean clung to his nostrils. The sharp smell of the whiskey filled Rye with a sense of regret. Rye’s senses were almost overwhelmed by everything. 

Starjammer said nothing and Rye felt both annoyed and worried. “Is it so hard to talk to me?” He reached out his hoof and prodded Starjammer in the side. “I don’t get you, sometimes. Why can’t you just talk to me?” 

“It’s so hard to know what to say, sometimes,” Starjammer replied. The unicorn took another pull on his whiskey bottle, belched, grimaced, and then turned his head to look Rye in the eye. “Princess Celestia and I talked for a while. Idle chit chat. She talked, I listened. Then we talked about you. She wanted to know what sort of pony I thought you were. I told her that you are a capable, clever, cunning, cutthroat killer… it’s the cutie mark, Rye… there is only so much a pony can do with two pistols as a cutie mark.” 

Stunned, Rye sat there, blinking, shocked that Starjammer had said so much. 

“She wanted her student safe… that’s what it all comes down to,” Starjammer continued, closing his eyes, and swaying from side to side. “She was worried if any of us might do something untoward with her student.” 

“I see.” Rye watched as Starjammer’s eyes opened. 

“I require a very specific type,” Starjammer said, his voice somewhat slurred. “I am the proverbial damsel in distress. I am very feminine. Ever since I was very, very small, I have wanted to be a filly. I’m in the wrong body, you see. I require a very specific type.” Starjammer took another long drink from the bottle, belched again, and wiped his muzzle with his foreleg. 

Rye Mash wondered what sort of hangover Starjammer was going to have. 

“I like Bloody Velvet because she is very masculine. She takes charge. She is very domineering and commanding and she puts me in my place. I can relax my guard a little bit and be myself and I can be pretty.” Starjammer paused, blinking, batting his eyelashes. “I can be the damsel in distress and Bloody Velvet will oblige me. She knows what to do with damsels in distress. She paddles them, she spanks them, and she punishes them for being weak willed spineless silly fillies… and I like it.” 

Shocked, Rye tried not to imagine what Starjammer was describing, but it was too late. He had a vivid mental image of Bloody Velvet working Starjammer over, dominating him, cowing him, and berating him for being an effeminate milksop. He also had a disturbing mental image of Starjammer enjoying it. 

“You rescued Woe Betide… you rescued a damsel in distress. You didn’t have to do it, I even encouraged you to walk away from the whole mess. But you did it. You rescued a filly in distress and you were the perfect gentlepony about it.” Starjammer shook his head and set his whiskey bottle down on the deck in front of him. “That’s not how you rescue a damsel, Rye… you are supposed to rescue a damsel and then rut them silly… that’s the fantasy. You rescued Mousy too. Another damsel. You, you’re the damsel rescuing type, and me, I’m a damsel. I’m the bad little filly that can’t stay out of trouble and wants to be foalnapped, because I want the bad guy to do bad things to me and then I want my rescuer to do even worse things to me. I can only cum when I’m held down and roughed up.” 

“And now, I am going off to rescue another damsel,” Rye said. 

Starjammer nodded, lifted up his bottle of whiskey, and then chugged down the rest of the contents. He blinked a few times at Rye, giving the unicorn beside him a drunken stare, and then leaned closer to Rye. “You make me feel like a dirty, dirty mare. You make me wish that I had mare parts for you to stretch out and abuse.” Starjammer let out a sour smelling belch right in Rye’s face, hiccuped once, gave Rye one very sloppy, slobbery, loose lipped drunken kiss, pulled away, rose, and then Starjammer sauntered away, leaving behind one very flustered Rye. 

“Starjammer, wait,” Rye said as his friend walked away. “You could come to bed with Mousy and I if you don’t want to be alone. I don’t think she’d mind.” 

“Nope,” Starjammer replied, shaking his head. “You’d try to shag me gently, out of pity, and that’d ruin our relationship. I’d ruin our relationship. I get angry when I can’t cum.” 

Not knowing how to reply, Rye watched as Starjammer disappeared belowdecks, leaving him all alone with nothing but the stars for company. Shivering, confused, Rye decided to go back to bed, even if it meant waking up Mousy to get his blanket back. 



 

“I’m sorry,” Mousy whispered into Rye’s ear as she snuggled up beside him. “But you know, if you had just cuddled with me when we got into bed, I might not have stole your blanket.” 

Some of Rye’s shivers became quivers as Mousy moved against him. She was touching, him, rubbing him with her legs, he could feel the heat of her belly against his hip and his thigh. He could feel other things too. Soft things that were quite warm against his cold flesh. He thought about Starjammer, feeling confused, not knowing how to react to everything he had just heard. He felt confused, overwhelmed, his mind was full of far too many thoughts to deal with. 

He snuggled up a bit closer to Mousy beneath the blanket that they both now shared, glad to have another pony in his bed with him, even if the bed was too narrow and space was cramped. He could feel her breathing, he could feel her body moving against him. While it was just a little arousing, it was more comforting than anything else. 

“Is something wrong?” Mousy asked. 

“Yeah,” Rye replied, breathing out the word. 

“Up for a little pillow talk?” Mousy slid her hoof down Rye’s barrel and over his stomach, coming to stop over his navel. 

“This whole thing with Princess Celestia has me scared. Starjammer just gave me an earful. I just found out something horrible about my friend, Velvet.” Rye paused for a moment as Mousy’s hoof traced a circle over his stomach, causing tingles to rush up and down his spine. “There is a lot going on.” 

“It’s exciting… I get to have an adventure… this is going to be great.” Mousy took a deep breath, sighed, and then nuzzled her muzzle along Rye’s neck. “I like this… just this. This is nice.” 

Rye had to admit, this was nice. The feeling of somepony close. A warm body in the bed. He could get used to this. “Mousy, about us… where does Starjammer fit in with us?” He heard Mousy inhale and he felt her barrel swelling beside him. 

“I’m a selfish little bint, I am. If I ever catch you with another mare and I don’t know about it, I’ll geld ya while you’re sleeping.” Mousy continued to nuzzle Rye’s neck as she spoke. “Now, with Starjammer, that’s different. I don’t mind sharing you with him. Or maybe even another mare, if I like her enough. Just don’t ever try to hide it. Don’t be a bastard about it and I won’t go off and cheat on you.” 

“That seems fair,” Rye replied. “Mousy, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit uptight.” 

“I know.” Mousy’s hoof slid lower down Rye’s belly and she giggled as Rye tensed. 

Squirming, Rye felt Mousy giving him a teasing tickle. “I have no plans to cheat on you, I’ll be honest… but Starjammer… he’s… I don’t know—” 

“You like him. That’s fine. I like watching. You were so… rough with him. It gave me the shivers. Rough but gentle.” Mousy took a deep breath. “You didn’t really hurt him. I was surprised about that. He’s a bit of a confused sort, ain’t he?” 

“He is… I like him a lot… but I can’t make sense of him. He says he wants to be a mare. Why would a stallion want to be a mare?” Rye’s whole body trembled as Mousy’s fetlock slid back and forth over the soft, wrinkled flesh of his scrotum. 

“I don’t know,” Mousy replied, “But you made him feel like a mare, and I suppose that’s important to him.” Mousy yawned and squeezed Rye’s leg between her thighs. “Get some sleep, Rye. We’re probably going to have a long day tomorrow…” 
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 32
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Sable Blanc shrank in the distance as both The Whalefish and The Apogee headed inland, off to do their first task. Off in the distant mountains, where the borders of Fancy and a diamond dog kingdom were located, there was a city called Alpin, and sitting on top of the mountain above the city of Alpin, was the Château de la Roche. Word had it that the castle was full of slavers who specialised in the trade of earth ponies and sometimes, pegasus ponies, with unicorns being far too much trouble to mess with. At least, that is what the intelligence said. 

In Château de la Roche, they would find a certain Docteur Lapin, somebody of interest. Princess Celestia had not made it clear who or what the doctor was, which bothered Captain Spyglass to no end. 

As for how to get the doctor out of the castle, they were still forming a plan, and that plan involved Bloody Velvet, Starjammer, and Rye Mash committing a spree of murder and violence. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a plan. The doctor had information on Stella Scintilla and securing him was their top priority. 

Rye, unsettled about the whole thing, was uncomfortable with his role—he was the weakest unicorn around when compared to Starjammer and Bloody Velvet, who were titans of magic. Even Woe Betide was showing more magical aptitude than he was and she was a foal. He wasn’t sure what he could bring to the table in an all out assault upon a fortified location, other than shooting their enemies a whole bunch of times. He hoped that what he could do would be enough. 

It was one thing to fly into a storm, but it was a whole different thing entirely to fly into such an uncertain future. Nopony quite knew what they were getting into or the horrors that awaited them. 



 

“Try harder!” Bloody Velvet’s voice was commanding, but also held a quaver of pain. Her sides spasmed and her right hind leg wouldn’t stop twitching. “Woe, you need to focus! Stop slacking off!” 

Scowling, her lips pressing together, Woe Betide squinted her eyes and stared at the padlock she was trying to unlock. She had the lockpicks held in her telekinesis and she struggled to get a feel for what she was doing. She could feel the tumblers moving inside. She gave the probe a little wiggle and ignored Bloody Velvet. These things took time. Bloody Velvet’s distractions were a good thing, as Woe understood that there would be lots of distractions if she was trying to do this under fire. 

Meanwhile, Oola Roo was trying to show Rye the basics for using a sword, and Rye was mimicking her movements as he held his hanger sword, gifted to him by Princess Celestia, in his telekinesis. The sword, suitable for both slashing and stabbing, was a well balanced weapon and Rye found that he quite liked it. 

As Rye and Oola practiced sword fighting, both Mousy and Starjammer sat together on the deck, enjoying the sight of Rye and his fancy hoofwork. Starjammer was watching with rapt interest, his eyes darting to and fro as Rye avoided Oola’s punishing attacks, and Mousy watched with a pleased smile. 

“This is good fun, ain’t it?” Mousy slipped her question into Starjammer’s ear, her lips tickling him and causing his ear to twitch. “What’s your favourite part? Me… I like those legs of his… look at the way he moves.” 

“Hmm,” Starjammer replied in a thoughtful hum, “that perky, perfect plot of his.” 

“Oh sure, go right for the garden and the potatoes,” Mousy said as she let out a faux haughty sniff. She turned up her nose at Starjammer. “He’s more than a nice arse and a potato sack, you know. He has a handsome enough face too.” 

Starjammer shrugged, said nothing, but gave Mousy a lewd grin as he licked his teeth. Mousy, unable to maintain her theatrical irritation, broke down into fillyish giggling. “I want to look down and see that face of his between my legs.” Mousy’s perverse words were acknowledged with a loud snort from Starjammer. 

Hearing laughter, Woe redoubled her efforts and moved the probe around, feeling for the little click when the tumbler moved to just the right spot. She was rewarded with a soft, faint click as the last tumbler slid into place. She turned the mechanism and the padlock popped open. 

“Say, that’s pretty good,” Bloody Velvet said to Woe as she locked the padlock. “Now do it again. And again. And then again, until you can open the thing up in seconds. 

Sighing, Woe Betide resigned herself to an afternoon of picking locks. 



 

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been off by yourself a fair bit.” Rye Mash looked at Skeeter, his expression one of concern, and he tried to understand his pegasus friend. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Skeeter replied. The pegasus struggled to smile. His face was still healing, but was getting better every day. “I just… I’ve had a lot to think about. We’re doing more than I had intended. More than I had signed on for.” 

“The rescue?” Rye asked. 

“No, everything… I… I knew things would be dangerous when I signed on. I sort of understood what I was getting myself into. But the reality of it… getting my face all messed up.” The pegasus paused and contemplated his own words. “I’m just a pegasus who likes flying fast. I just wanted to make a few bits. I wanted to see the world. This is more than I bargained for.” 

“You can still leave before we’re in deep trouble.” Rye looked at his friend, trying to read him, trying to understand him, trying to figure out what the pegasus wanted. 

“I have no intentions of leaving. At least, not yet. You’re my friend. And that means something. I’m poor, Rye, but I have loyalty. That’s worth a king’s ransom.” 

“So it is.” Rye nodded his head. “I’m going to fix tea. You should join me. Stop brooding and spend some time with me.” 

Skeeter heaved a sigh and looked at his friend. “Well, if you insist…” 





Staring up at the stars, Rye Mash came to the unsettling conclusion that he was going to miss these idyllic times. In but a short time, there was going to be a whole lot of bloodshed. Part of him was excited, but a part of him worried too. He always felt bad after being violent, conflicted somehow, like something inside of him was torn apart. 

There was too much on his mind. He kept thinking about the horrible black thing he had seen in the dream, the violence that awaited him, and Skeeter’s seeming doubt. Skeeter had done his best to reassure him, but Rye knew that the pegasus was having some trouble going ahead. Bloody Velvet and Starjammer, they were fine with what was soon to happen. Starjammer seemed perfectly fine with killing. Bloody Velvet was known as Bloody Velvet for a reason. Oola was along for a good time, and she was looking forward to a tussle. 

But Skeeter… Rye worried for his friend. Skeeter had spoke a great deal about loyalty over tea. Rye realised while sipping tea just how lucky he was to have a loyal friend. Rye worried, fretted, wondering if he could somehow keep Skeeter out of the worst of the violence. But Skeeter was assigned to be his bodyguard. This presented a bit of a dilemma for Rye, who had come to the understanding that Skeeter was not like the rest of them. 

With that realisation, Rye realised that he was no longer like Skeeter—Rye was, indeed, becoming a cold blooded murderous bastard. At some point, something inside of him had shifted, changed, and he was becoming something else. And after the big fight ahead, Rye wondered what he would become. 

“When I was just a little filly, I asked my mother, ‘What will I be… will I be pretty will I be rich?’ Here's what she said to me, ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be the future's not ours to see, que sera, sera, what will be, will be.’” 

Rye Mash’s ears perked at the sounds of Mousy’s voice. He turned and looked at her. She was standing on the deck, the wind whipping her mane and her tail off to one side, looking at him with wide eyes filled with mirth and laughter. 

“Hello, Rye.” 

“Hey, Mousy… I was just out here thinking.” 

“It’s past midnight, Rye. Most ponies have gone to bed. I was thinking about turning in myself. But the bed is empty.” Mousy sashayed forwards, almost mimicking Starjammer’s own hip swaying sashay. She came over to Rye’s side and came to a halt, standing beside him. 

“I was just out here, thinking,” Rye said to Mousy.

“You know, a heavy burden is easier when two carry it.” Mousy turned her head and looked at Rye, who was a fair bit taller than her, but she was stockier than him by far. “I’m an earth pony… I don’t mind something a little heavy on my back.” 

Hearing Mousy’s words, Rye flushed, feeling hot and flustered. 

“You know, you can share your problems with me, Rye.” Mousy blinked and a powerful gust of wind tugged upon her ears. “You can tell me anything, anything at all. I’ve decided to be as open minded as possible with all things concerning you. Sharing you with Starjammer has already worked out for the best… I now have a wonderful friend that I am starting to adore a great deal.” 

Now, Rye felt even more hot and flustered and the chilly breeze did nothing. He looked off at the stars. “I’m worried that there is going to be lots of killing. I’m worried about what it will do to me. Every time I kill something, or somepony, it gets a little easier and I kinda get in a funk afterwards. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m changing, and I’m not sure if it is for the better.” 

“Hmm,” Mousy hummed. “Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be the future's not ours to see, que sera, sera, what will be, will be.” 

“What does that even mean, anyway?” Rye asked. 

“I have no idea, but it’s pretty,” Mousy replied. “I think the future just sort of happens. I don’t know if we can change it. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. You’re probably going to shoot a lot of things that deserve it. You might shoot something that doesn’t deserve it. Things are going to happen. We can’t stop them, we can only be patient and wait them out as they happen.” 

“I think I’m afraid of changing.” Rye felt Mousy press up against his side and she shivered against him. As the night continued, the air grew colder. 

“Change happens.” Mousy leaned her head against Rye’s neck, just below his jaw. He was warm. He smelled of gunpowder, oil, leather, and fragrant tea. It was a smell that Mousy was starting to associate with safety, comfort, and sexual attraction. She tucked her tail down between her legs to protect herself from the wind—the sudden dampness she had made the wind that much colder when it tickled her nether regions. Right now, she could only think about one way to get warm. 

“But is it a change for the better?” Rye shook his head, inhaled, and filled his lungs with cold night air. Overhead, the stars twinkled and off to the south, the night sky was purple from the light of a distant city. “See, now that you’re here, it makes things more difficult. I want to be a good husband. I want to do things right.” 

“Just be good to me, Rye, and everypony else can feck off. I understand that you are a pirate—” 

“Privateer,” Rye corrected. 

“—and with being a pirate, you are bound to do some questionable, despicable acts. And I say, do them. Just do them to the right ponies…. griffons… minotaurs… whoever. I don’t care. Just help the innocent, protect those that can’t protect themselves, and I don’t care who you kill or what sort of bloodbath you cause. A wife must be understanding when she marries a pirate and she can’t afford to be picky, just so long as the bills are paid and there is food to eat.” 

“We don’t have bills.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I’m worried that killing will leave me cold—” 

“Well then, I shall have to keep you warm and make you care about things.” 

“I don’t think it will be that easy.” Rye shook his head. 

“Well then, it is up to me to make sure my feminine wiles are up for the job.” 

An unwilling smile broke over Rye’s muzzle like an ocean wave over a rock. He felt a warm, fuzzy feeling of affection for the earth pony beside him. Somehow, she had made him feel better. The trouble ahead no longer was quite so worrisome. He felt calmer. More leveled out. He felt sleepy, and he felt as though his mind would be quiet enough for him to sleep. 

“Come, little mare. Let us go to bed.” 
	
> Chapter 33
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Starjammer, who was trying to show Rye Mash how engines were maintained, set down a spanner, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. Rye Mash, who was distracted, and spent far too much time looking at Starjammer, when he should have been looking at the engine, gave Starjammer a sheepish grin. 

Snorting, Oola, who was fed up with the whole situation, shoved them both out of the engine bay on The Whalefish so she could get some work done. How a kangaroo knew about engines was anypony’s guess, but Oola was full of surprises. 

Elsewhere, on The Apogee, Woe Betide was being instructed on the finer points of magic use by Bloody Velvet. Today’s lesson; practical combat applications with telekinesis. Woe, under the tutelage of both Starjammer and Bloody Velvet, was showing signs of greatness. 

Mousy was having a quiet discussion with Captain Spyglass, a discussion about the plight of earth ponies and how Mousy admired the captain for doing so much to help them. Skeeter sat with them, but said very little, not having much to say on the subject, but wanting to know and understand more about it. 

Now, standing on the deck of The Whalefish, having been banished from the engine room by Oola Roo, Rye and Starjammer began a deadly dance of combat, with Rye waving his hanger sword while Starjammer threatened Rye with a massive lynchpin. Witnessing this, the crew had a few good laughs, which was good for morale. 

There was a lot of tension in the air. The two ships were sailing into danger, of this there could be no doubt, and the fear was a palpable thing that could be felt. The cannons were all ready to fire, both on deck and the banks of cannons belowdecks. Teams of cannoneers, pegasi and earth ponies who practiced the fine art of loading and firing a cannon, paced the deck, looking pensive, and watching the two ponies having a good natured duel was a good way to ease the tension. 

With the wind being kind, they would make their destination in just a few days. 



 

“Captain Spyglass… before we go in, guns blazing, I want to investigate the city,” Rye Mash said to his captain in what he hoped was a confident, self assured voice. He narrowed his eyes and looked Spyglass in the eye. “I just want to have a look around. I understand that it is dangerous, but you never know, I might learn something.” 

“Rye Mash… they take unicorns as slaves.” Spyglass gave Rye an impassive stare. 

“About that… Starjammer knows a little bit about that. There are also unicorn slavers. I could play the part—” 

“This is very dangerous, Mister Mash.” Captain Spyglass squinted one eye at Rye. “I don’t know if I like this. What are you proposing?” 

Clearing his throat and lifting his head a little higher, Rye tried to look as serious as possible. “I go into the city and I see if I can find out anything. I’ll ask around. Maybe see if I can find contract work. Pass myself off as a slaver and a mercenary. See if I can find some way into Château de la Roche without a whole lot of bloodshed. If I can’t get in, maybe I can find out something else that’s useful and will help us.” 

Spyglass’ lips pressed into a tight line and his brows wrinkled as he considered Rye’s words. Intelligence was always a valuable commodity, and they needed every available resource they could get to pull this off. On the other hoof, Rye was putting himself at risk. His cabin colt was capable though, and Spyglass was tempted. If they could pull this off without bloodshed, so much the better. 

“The Whalefish will keep a good distance from Alpin. We’ll send in The Apogee and have Velvet cast an aversion spell on it. Hopefully, you won’t get noticed too much. You can look around the city and see if you can learn anything. After having your look around, we’ll rendezvous and discuss what we should do next. Maybe you can find a way of doing this that doesn’t put the ships at risk and doesn’t end with a bloodbath.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.” Rye smiled and felt relieved. 

“So, Mister Mash, have you thought about how you are going to pass yourself off as a slaver?” Spyglass focused a weather eye upon Rye and waited for the answer. This wasn’t something that could be improvised, or so Spyglass felt, there had to be more of a plan in place. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Rye replied in a confident, self assured voice, “I just so happen to have an earth pony in my possession. She’s docile, good looking, and obedient.” 

Spyglass scowled, not liking this type of humour at all, though he knew that Rye was making a point. He trusted Rye, knew Rye to be a good pony, but hearing those words coming out of his cabin colt’s mouth ruffled his feathers. He wickered, bothered by this, but understood the necessity. He didn’t like putting Mousy at risk. He rather liked Mousy. She was a thinker. 

“Mister Mash, are you really willing to put your bride at risk?” Spyglass asked. 

“Captain, this is her idea,” Rye replied. 

“Oh… shite…” Spyglass felt a cold chill go through his wings and he shuddered. He felt his stomach clench as a flood of emotions poured through his innards as he began to realise that not only was Mousy intelligent, but she was also ruthless and pragmatic. He stared at Rye and wondered what the colt might do with Mousy at the reins. Spyglass began to wonder if Mousy being a helpless damsel in distress was just a ruse. He suspected that they had all just been grifted. He also felt a little better about sending Mousy with Rye, the colt would need some brains to back him up. 

“Mousy is more than willing to act like my slave… she even told me to rough her up a bit if I have to… she said that she’d act a little insolent just so I could put her in her place if we needed to make the act a little more believable. She did ask me not to hit her in the eye though, she hates that, but she said a fat lip was okay.” 

“Mister Mash… if it comes down to that, if, you are to respect her wishes, are we clear?” Spyglass heaved a sigh. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this. I can’t stand that Princess Celestia coerced us into doing this. I don’t like you putting yourself at risk and Mousy as well. All of this is awful.” 

“I’m sorta hoping that I can get into the castle under the guise of looking for work, perhaps. While I’m in there, maybe I can find the doctor we’re looking for. I can pass myself off as a heartless mercenary if I need to. Maybe we can find out more about their operation.” Rye Mash gave his captain a hopeful look. 

“If all of this goes wrong, this could go quite badly for you and Mousy,” Spyglass said. “Do you have a plan for that? Can you do what needs to be done?” 

“If things go badly and I know that there is no other way out, I know what needs to be done.” Rye Mash’s voice dropped into a pained whisper. “One bullet for her, one bullet for me. Quick and easy. I don’t want Mousy being broken in for real. I know what they do to female slaves to make them submissive.” 

Spyglass shuddered. Rye understood all too well. He felt a catch in the back of his throat. He looked at his cabin colt and felt a strange pain, a pain not unlike the worry a father feels for his son. “Rye, be careful. I’ll talk to Bloody Velvet about this. When we get to Alpin, you do your thing and see if you can find out anything useful.” 

“Aye aye,” Rye replied. 



 

Below, an endless expanse of evergreens stretched out in all directions like a green sea, and even as high up as they were, the scent of the evergreens reached the noses of the crew. The air was cold, as cold as winter, and everypony could see their breath. 

Ahead of them were the mountains and the city of Alpin. Below them, nestled among the evergreens, were logging camps. A light freezing rain was falling, precipitation from feral clouds that gathered around the mountains. It made the decks slick and ice rimed every surface. 

The cold made being friendly easy. Ponies huddled together, both above and belowdecks, trying to stay warm. Those who had cloaks were wearing them. Some wore blankets wrapped around their bodies. 

“Rye, we’re going to put you and Mousy down just outside of the city.” Bloody Velvet’s face contorted as the entire back half of her body spasmed. “I did a little far seeing with my magic. There is an ideal location for us to put down. We’ll be waiting for you there. There is a little moonshiner’s hollow a short distance away and we’ll be negotiating the cost of a large quantity of medical grade alcohol.” 

Medical grade alcohol. Terrible stuff, awful stuff, stuff great for cleaning wounds, but lousy for drinking—unless one was desperate, then it would do in a pinch. For a thirsty sailor, anything would do, even engine degreaser. 

Unless of course, you were a teetotaller, then medical grade alcohol was fine, even if it stung a little. The burning let you know it was working. Pain was the assurance of life and continued living, a means to celebrate that you would live to see another day, just so long as said celebration did not involve drinking medical grade alcohol, but rather, a hot cup of wonderful, soothing tea. 

The Apogee drifted among the clouds, the ship glazing over with ice, which caused all manner of creaks, pops, and crackles. Unlike The Whalefish, which was rather simplistic all things considered, The Apogee had a means of heating the interior. However, the heating system consumed a lot of power and did almost nothing, leaving the inside just as cold as the outside. 

In the higher elevations, along the slopes of the mountains, the evergreens were covered in a blanket of white snow. In just a few days, Rye Mash had gone from warm, sunny beaches to cold, snow covered mountains. Woe Betide had never seen snow before, so this was a novel experience for her. 



 

Below was a somewhat flat space on the side of the mountain with a collection of shacks, buildings, and a massive still in the middle. Rye, nervous, knew that it was time to go. He had checked his weapons a dozen times now, but it did not feel like enough. He was wearing his green cloak and Bloody Velvet had pulled a scarf of hers from out of storage for him. 

For Mousy, there would be no cloak or scarf. Slaves were treated poorly and Rye had to appear to be callous—indifferent to her suffering. Mousy stood, her teeth chattering, trying to keep warm. She looked miserable, which was a good thing. She needed to look miserable and downtrodden if this was to be pulled off. 

“Rye… if you get in trouble, we’ll try to rescue you. I’ll do my best to keep an eye on you with far seeing.” Bloody Velvet frowned, adjusted the scarf around Rye’s neck, and then looked Rye in the eye. “Starjammer is resting and reserving his magic. If something goes wrong, he’s ready to burn the whole mountain down to get you. So, if something does go wrong, just try to hold out until we can rescue you, okay?” 

Rye nodded. “Yes, Velvet, of course.” 

“When you get back, and you will be coming back, you owe Mousy, do you hear me?” Bloody Velvet gave Rye a stern look. 

“Yes.” Rye nodded again. 

“No, really, I want to make this clear, you owe her for this. You are going to be her slave. You will bring her tea. You will serve her every whim and need. You will keep her warm and happy. I want you to look at her right now and see how miserable she is.” 

Turning his head, Rye looked at Mousy. He could hear her teeth chattering. Frost had formed on her pelt. The freezing mist had turned some of her mane to icicles. A snotcicle hung from her nose. A twinge of guilt spiked through Rye’s heart. As he stood staring, Mousy gave him a shivering, quivering smile. 

“I’ll be fine. I like the idea of having a unicorn serving me.” Mousy chuckled and stomped her hooves on the wooden deck. “It’s so bloody cold that I can’t feel my teats.” She turned to Bloody Velvet and her smile vanished. “Velvet, you know what needs to be done… make it quick.” 

Nodding, Bloody Velvet’s horn flared and a burst of telekinesis flashed near Mousy’s head, striking her with concussive force, and knocking the earth pony down to the deck. Rye let out a startled yelp, followed by an angry bellow.

“Rye,” Velvet said, looking him in the eye. “Mousy and I agreed to this. She knew it needed to be done. Calm down and deal with it.” 

Rye gritted his teeth, not liking this. He looked down at Mousy, feeling hurt and angry. Blood trickled from her ear, which was already starting to swell. She looked as though she had been kicked or struck in the side of the head, which in sense, she had been, by Velvet’s telekinetic burst. He helped her get up on her hooves again, and then pressed himself up against her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I’m not,” Mousy replied in a somewhat woozy voice. “Remember, fat lip good, black eye bad. I hate being punched in the eye.” 

Bowing his head, Rye planted an affectionate kiss upon Mousy, the last act of affection he would be able to show her for a while. He hoped he had it in him to do what needed to be done. A seething, searing coal of hatred kindled in his heart. 

“Good luck,” Starjammer said in a low voice from where he stood in the doorway leading belowdecks. “Come back to me… both of you.” 

“Yeah, good luck,” Woe Betide added. 

Skeeter extended his frost covered wing and waved. “Be careful Rye, and look after Mousy.” 

“I hate goodbyes.” Oola reached up, rubbed her eyes, and then, bouncing a bit, she slugged Rye in the withers. “Good luck, ya doof.” 

The city of Alpin awaited. 
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 34
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was strange how the falling snow muffled every sound and left the world in an eerie silence. It was quiet enough to hear the sound of the falling snowflakes hitting the snow. There were soft, muffled crunches as Rye and Mousy’s hooves trampled through the snow as they made their way to Alpin. 

The wind cut like careless, heartless knives, biting through Rye’s cloak and into his flesh. He couldn’t imagine how cold it must have been for Mousy, and he felt guiltier and guiltier with every step he took. He hoped that she wouldn’t get frostbite and he had nightmarish visions about her ears freezing off. He liked Mousy’s ears and how they twitched as she slept. There were a lot of things he liked about Mousy. Things he was fond of. 

Things he would miss if they froze off. 

Ahead of them, the city loomed, built on rings around the mountain peak, shelves carved into the very mountain itself. In the center of town, on top of the peak, was Château de la Roche, a rough looking stone fortress that was half carved out of the mountain and half constructed from massive stone blocks. Rye could see the city gates and he could see diamond dogs armed with pikes standing guard at the gates. On top of the gatehouse there were a few griffons that did not appear to be armed, but Rye suspected that they were. Pistols were small, concealable, and easy to tuck away. 

As he approached, no one said anything, it was as if no one even noticed him. Rye, as cold as he was, began sweating, and he could feel the moisture on his frogs freezing. One of the diamond dogs glanced at him and then resumed looking at the road. 

As he passed through the gate, he saw a number of other unicorns, but not many. The streets, much to Rye’s surprise, were neat, clean, and orderly. The snow and the ice had been removed from many of the streets. There was no sign of garbage anywhere, or sewage, as was so common in large cities. The city smelled of evergreens… and roasting meat. Rye held back the urge to gag, worried that it would be his undoing. He didn’t even want to know what, or who might be cooking. 



 

A team of earth ponies pulled a snow plow, scraping away ice and snow from the roadway. Rye watched them as they worked. Each of them looked a bit too thin, a bit worn down, and all of them bore signs of abuse. He felt bad, but there was nothing he could do to save them. One of them had a crooked leg and struggled to pull his own weight. 

With each look around, Rye discovered that this was not the town he thought it was. He saw a toy store filled with dolls, wooden toys, and tin figures with bright, cheerful paint. Beside it was a bookstore. This was a civilised place, a place with learned creatures… but still a place full of slaves. No matter how clean it was, no matter the fact that it had a toy store and all of the grim implications of what that meant if a full out assault took place here, this was still a rotten place. Blasting this place off of the mountainside would cause a lot of unfortunate deaths. 

After thinking about it, Rye was filled with a grim determination to find some other means of getting the job done. While he wouldn’t feel too bad about shooting slavers, he knew that he would feel just awful if he gunned down puppies and cubs. He shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. 

He needed to find a way. He needed to find some other means of entering the castle and finding this Doctor Lapin fellow, whomever Doctor Lapin was. He looked around while flogging his brain, no doubt looking like a tourist and drawing attention to himself. 

Much to his surprise, he saw a teashop. Without thinking about it, he smiled. Perhaps something good could still come out of this trip after all. Where there was tea, there were most likely ponies, and where there were ponies, there were most likely loose lips. Head high, Rye Mash headed for the ornate, brass decorated door of the teashop, wondering what he might find and hoping for interesting gossip. 



 

The teashop had a blissful smell, aromatic, spicy, and nose-tingly. It gave Rye chills as he went through the door. The shop itself was narrow, long, and the walls on either side were covered in tea tins, teapots, teacups, teakettles, plates, saucers, decorative spoons, and all manner of bric a brac. However, the most important feature of the teashop was that it was warm. Blessed warmth caressed Rye’s skin and warm air filled his lungs. 

“Oi, she can’t be in here,” the shopkeeper said. The unicorn behind the counter near the door looked more than a little annoyed. He was rather fat, portly, and had flappy, hanging jowls that wibble-wobbled as he spoke. 

“My apologies my good sir, but my property is valuable to me. I’ll not leave it outside where it might be mistaken as an idle slave just standing around.” Rye gave the shopkeeper a hard, flinty glare and he saw the unicorn scowl. 

“Fine, but if she touches anything, if she muddies anything, you’ll be buying it.” 

“Seems reasonable,” Rye replied in a dismissive voice as he began to look around. He glanced at Mousy and guessed that she was just happy to be someplace warm. She looked miserable and Rye knew that it wasn’t just an act. 

His eye was drawn to a group of red tea tins, red with gold and blue trim, along with little silver stars. Cinnamon Starlight, the label said. A blend of black and red teas with strong notes of cinnamon and anise. Rye felt his mouth watering. That sounded good. 

“She’s quite distinctive… I could see why you would want to keep her close,” an almost familiar sounding voice said. 

Rye paused, recognising the accent. There could be no denying it, that was a Canterlot accent. Rye had grown up hearing that accent—it was the accent of authority. He turned and looked at the unicorn that was studying Mousy. 

Mousy’s head was surrounded in a pale yellow glow and lifted, which made Rye nervous. Her lips were pulled back and the unicorn began examining her teeth and peering into her eyes. For a second, Rye was filled with an almost blinding seething rage that threatened to make his blood boil, but he kept his emotions in check, remembering where he was and what he was doing. 

“Young, good teeth, distinctive eyes, and a pleasing musculature… certainly not a field pony. I can see why you’d keep her close. I must say, she is quite submissive and obedient. You’ve done a fine job in keeping up with her discipline, no doubt.” The unicorn’s horn stopped glowing and he looked at Rye. “My name is Lord Byron Bitters, of House Bitters, Scion of the Platinum Lineage. You are clearly from Canterlot yourself, but your accent is a little strange. Travel will do that. Who might you be?” 

Rye drew himself up, cleared his throat, and tried to remember all of his elocution lessons. “My name is whatever my employer wishes to call me. I am a mercenary, a gun for hire. I can be a very useful shadow that stands behind or a very fearsome face that presses ahead.” 

Byron began to chuckle and a warm, sincere smile split his muzzle. It was a cultured laugh, polite, soft, a well  practiced laugh that conveyed a sense of humour, but was not so loud or rambunctious that it offended. 

“That sounds like a sales pitch.” Byron’s eyebrow arched and he began to study Rye. “Tell me, Nameless One, why would you carry your own saddlebags when you have a sturdy slave that could be doing it for you?” 

Taken off guard, Rye flogged his brain for some kind of useful reply. Much to his relief, his brain delivered. “I am a stranger in a strange city, full of unknowns. If something happened and my slave was snatched, I would be out of a slave and my possessions. I would rather keep my possessions, thank you very much. My slave can be replaced, but my powder, shot, and personal effects are all very dear to me. Shooting things is how I feed myself.” 

“Oh my,” Byron replied, chuckling again. “You are quite a find… a hired gun that can actually think. You sound educated, cultured, you think, you clearly have a good eye for pony flesh, and you must have a love of fine tea to be found in a shop like this.” 

“I’m no noble, sir, but I am educated.” Rye did his best to let out a haughty sounding sniff. “I know my place in the world. I could be like her”—Rye made a gesture towards Mousy—“a mindless beast meant only for menial labour, but I chose to lift myself up in the world and make myself indispensable.” 

“Well said, well said… it is refreshing to meet a cultured mercenary that knows how to appeal to his betters. So many of the soldiers around here are so… crass. They don’t know how to bathe… they lack culture and refinement. They are impossible to have conversations with… but you… you sir, are a breath of fresh air.” Byron’s smile grew wider. 

“Thank you, sir.” Rye bowed his head. 

“So tell me, Nameless One, how did you make her so docile?” Byron glanced at Mousy, studying her, and then back at Rye. “She is so meek… such a difficult status to achieve… I would like to know how you did it.” 

Lowering his head, Rye leaned forwards and in a low voice that was almost a whisper, he told Byron, “I find that a good dry cornholing takes a lot of the fight out of them. You can’t run or fight when you can barely walk.” 

“Indeed.” Byron shuddered, blinked his eyes, and shook his head. “Oh, that’s positively ghastly.” The unicorn blinked a few more times, shuddered again, and then continued to study Rye. “I could only imagine that you must have other methods as well. When you said that, she stopped breathing for several seconds.” 

Mousy, who looked as droopy and miserable as ever, had not stopped breathing from fear, no, she had stopped breathing to hold in laughter, and even now, her face was a rigid, unchanging mask of melancholy. 

Rye leaned in a little more and dropped his voice down to a low whisper. “The last time she sassed me, I cut off her clitoris with a red hot pair of snips.” 

Byron inhaled, his breath caught in his throat, and it took every bit of effort that the dignified pony had not to choke. It took several seconds of deep breathing to regain his composure. “Oh dear, that is positively barbaric. I say, my good pony, there is cruelty, and then there is cruelty.” Byron cleared his throat, shuddered, and then looked at Rye through narrowed eyes. “How would you like a job? A pony with your skills is needed… we need somepony that will take a creative approach. I need a slave catcher… we send out workers to the surrounding logging camps down below. Sometimes, they think they can make a run for it. I am in need of somepony that will not only catch them, but make them reconsider running ever again.” 

“Looking for work is what brought me here,” Rye replied. “I’ve heard it told that for a pony like myself, there is good work to be had here, with good pay. This a wealthy town with a high cost of living.” 

“Indeed.” Byron began chuckling again and looked around the teashop. “For a pony with tastes, with culture and refinement, it can be quite expensive to live here. Now, about good pay… that all depends on who you know.” 

“Milord, I’ve had the good fortune to run into you,” Rye said to Byron. “Certainly I’ve met the right pony and I will not be walking away, disappointed and looking for work.” 

Byron’s chuckle died and his smile faded away. A stern, serious expression materialised on his face. “That would be a tragic turn of events, Nameless One. I fear that I would be genuinely upset if that were to happen. It has been so long since I’ve had meaningful conversation involving actual wit.” Byron coughed and cleared his throat. “If you wish to discuss employment, come with me. I assure you, not only can I pay you, but I can get you expense accounts for anything and everything you might want. You could have a very comfortable life here, Nameless One.” 

Rye bowed his head low, a familiar gesture that brought back a flood of memories and feelings for him. “I would be more than happy to listen to what you have to say, Lord Bitters.” 

“Fantastic… come with me… think we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement…” 



 

As it turned out, Byron Bitters operated the stables, a place where freshly broken slaves were tested. Rye had listened as Byron had explained everything. Slaves that had been broken down in the prison were brought here to see how they worked out. This was the place where their work ethic was tested. They were given menial jobs around town, like plowing snow, hauling garbage, cleaning up sewage, or any number of other jobs necessary to keep the town clean and free of filth. Byron had explained at length about how slaves were the glue that held society together. 

Alpin was modeled after Canterlot, after all, and it was important to keep up impressions. 

The stable was more than just a place to house the freshly broken, it was also a place where off duty guards could come and relieve their tensions—the slaves here were expected to perform any duty requested of them. Slaves that had troubles doing their duties were sent back to the prison for a bit more breaking in, until they became, if not docile, at least manageable. 

Rye had surprised Byron by preparing tea, and Rye could tell that Byron was impressed. Rye was learning a great deal, as Byron was quite a chatty fellow—it was clear that the unicorn was just dying for meaningful conversation. 

Mousy, who still looked miserable, stood slumped in the corner, her head low, her ears drooping, and her tail tucked between her legs after Rye had scolded her for filling the air with her earth pony stink and launching into a blistering, profanity laced tirade about the need to purchase perfume to make earth ponies not as offensive to the nose, a performance in humiliation and degradation that Byron had watched in slack jawed awe. The performance had ended with Rye threatening to twist off one of Mousy’s teats with a hot pair of pliers, and Mousy had broken down, sobbing in front of everypony in the streets. 

A passing griffon had called Rye “a cruel, heartless, buzzard faced bastard.” 



 

“It is a pretty standard contract, no small print, just a written declaration that you will look after my interests and that you will do your best to return my property to me, alive.” Byron focused upon Rye. “Now, I don’t mind if you rough them up a little. But I need them alive and I need them to be able to work… of course, depending on the severity of their crimes, a little time for healing up and contemplating their actions might be in order.” 

Byron’s horn glowed and he set out an inkwell, a quill, and a bit of fine sand for drying the ink. He also set out a silver wax seal, some sealing wax, and a ribbon of mark. 

“You know, at some point, I really am going to need to know your name,” Byron said in an amused voice as he glanced at Mousy in the corner, who was still trembling with her tail tucked between her legs. Taking delight in her misery, the unicorn chuckled. 

“Forgive me for being curious, but I’d like to see the stables… I want to know what I am working with.” Rye glanced at the items on the wooden table and then looked Byron in the eye. “I do in fact, have a fine eye for pony flesh.” 

“Want to have a little look at the goods to see if anything catches your fancy?” Byron gave Rye a sly grin. “I don’t care how you wear them down… that’s your business.” The unicorn cleared his throat and let out an obscene sounding titter. “And if you wanted to purchase something that caught your eye, you would of course get a reduced price, you have my word. A slave catcher should have slaves that are docile and meek… it’s just good, smart advertising. It would certainly put my mind at ease.” 

“That sounds wonderful, Milord.” Rye bowed his head. 

Byron headed off for a heavy wooden door and Rye followed. He gave a swift, unseen nod to Mousy, and after letting out a whimper of fear, Mousy fell in behind Rye, almost dragging her hooves while looking beat down and dejected. 

There was a long hallway lit by brass wall sconces and the smell of burning oil made Rye’s nostrils tingle. It was a foul, bitter smell, and the glass in the sconces was greasy. An even worse smell awaited. It was the smell of misery. Urine. Feces. The smell of sickness. The fetid aroma of unwashed bodies. The stench of slavery. 

In a windowless room, there were stables. Many of them were empty, but there were ponies here. Rye did not know how many, but he could see them huddled in their cells, and only a brave few dared to look at him. 

“Ugh, what a terrible stench. Why must earth ponies have such a stink about them?” Byron trotted off to a cabinet against the wall opposite of the cells, muttering to himself about mud ponies and how mud and shite were indistinguishable. 

Byron opened up the cabinet and Rye realised that he had a good source of information about the prison right here in front of him. Ponies who had been inside of it. He glanced at Byron, his eyes narrowing, and then he glanced at Mousy. He saw Mousy give him a nod and something resembling a cold, calculating stare could be seen in Mousy’s eyes. 

When Byron’s head disappeared into the cabinet, Rye Mash pulled his four barreled shotgun out from beneath his cloak. The slaves didn’t make so much as a peep, but remained as silent as the grave. A truly terrible grin spread over Mousy’s face as Rye Mash swept Byron’s tail aside and pressed the cold steel of the four barreled shotgun up against Byron Bitter’s scrotum. 

There was a startled squeak followed by a thunderous roar. 

The force of the blast launched Byron into the cabinet, he bounced, the cabinet rocked, and he fell out along with several scented candles. The unicorn fell to the floor and a second later, a keening, high pitched agonised wail filled the room. 

Rye Mash stood, one barrel of his shotgun smoking, and he peered down at Byron through narrowed eyes. A pool of blood grew at an alarming rate, flooding the floor, which was covered in lead shot and brass tacks… Rye Mash’s standard shotgun load. 

“Byron… Byron, please, stop your sniveling… I want you to listen to me,” Rye said in a cold, emotionless voice. “You’re going to die, Byron. But before you die… there are a few things that you should know.” 

Rye Mash began to reload his shotgun and he gave Byron a pleasant, polite grin. “My name is Rye Mash… and when you get to Tartarus… I want you to tell them who sent you. That’s Rye Mash… He of the Almighty Shotgun. Also…” Rye Mash made a dramatic pause as he finished loading. “Tell them I plan to keep them busy. Can you do that for me?” 

Byron, whose tail had been blown off and had flopped to the floor, let out a screeching whimper and closed his eyes as he writhed upon the ground, his entire groin nothing more than a shredded, brass tack and lead shot encrusted mess. 

Hearing something, Rye lifted his head. He saw a flash of metal as a pistol came through the doorway and he didn’t wait to see who was holding it. In the blink of an eye he had Right Nut pulled out and he fired at the doorway, his bullet arriving just as a griffon stepped through. 

The lead slug hit the griffon in the neck, ripping it open, and causing an arterial jet to paint the wall crimson. The griffon went down in a heap, letting out a gurgled squawk. Rye began to reload and he pulled out Left Nut.  

Rye stood, his ears perked, waiting, listening, his eyes upon the door. The room was cold enough for him to see his breath, and his heavy breathing caused little eddies in the gunsmoke. 

Lying on the floor, Byron’s front legs flailed about in a useless manner as the unicorn drew closer to death. Blood flecked Byron’s lips as he coughed up his shredded, brass tacks and lead filled insides. 

The sound of something coming could be heard and Rye stood silent, still, and waiting, three guns pointed at the door. When something grey and hulking came through the doorway, stepping over the dead griffon, Rye fired both Right Nut and Left Nut. There was a pained yelp and the diamond dog coming through the door pitched forwards. One shot had hit him in the gut, the other had gone through his right bicep. The musket he was holding clattered to the ground and Rye fired again, this time with his shotgun. 

The load of brass tacks and lead shot ripped the right arm of the diamond dog off and most of his face as well. The large, brutish looking creature lay twitching in a pool of blood that grew ever larger, and bits of brass twinkled in the flickering light. 

Rye began reloading, a passive, instinctual gesture that was as natural to him as breathing. Rye’s telekinesis was nothing impressive—except for when it came to guns. His fine control allowed him to reload all three weapons at once, in seconds. 

Rye waited for several minutes, his guns still out, and Mousy began to rummage through the scented candles that were not covered in blood, sniffing out the ones she liked and rolling them away from the mess in a neat cluster. Candles were romantic, scented candles stolen from a violent murder scene doubly so. 

When no more guards seemed forthcoming, Rye turned and faced the prisoners, his guns still out. “My name is Rye Mash, and I need your help. I need to know everything that you know about the prison. Now, I understand that you have no reason to trust me, but I’m here to rescue you. I want to help you. But I ask for something in return. I can get you to safety and to a better life, but you have to help me first. Okay?” 

There were murmurs from the ponies in the cells, the sounds of low voices speaking to one another, voices muffled with fear. 

Mousy let out a disdainful whimper as she looked down at a bloodied candle that had what appeared to be a chunk of testicle embedded with a brass tack stuck to it. “What a damn shame, this one has the lovely scent of spicy vanilla.” She lifted her head and looked at Byron. “You made quite a mess… I hope you’re happy. I love vanilla and you had to go and ruin it.” 

Byron made no reply. He stared upwards through unblinking, wide eyes, and he was having an unheard conversation with a pony that nopony else could see, a pale white earth pony that had a wilted petunia as a cutie mark. 

Rye Mash made a hasty head count. Eleven. Eleven ponies. A few stallions, a few mares, and a couple of zebra mares, all of which showed signs of abuse. Rye pitied them and hoped that they would recover with time. He wondered what Captain Spyglass would have to say about all of this. 

“We need to escape this place, and to do that, you still need to look like slaves,” Mousy said as she rolled away another candle. “Lucky for you, I have an idea. As my husband Rye said, you have no reason to trust us, but honestly, what choice do you have? Do you want to stay here? If you come with us, you have a chance to be free.” 

There was no reply and Rye Mash sighed. He began scooping up the candles Mousy had collected and made a mental note to loot the tea in the pantry before they left. There was no way in Tartarus he was going to pay full price in the tea shop, that was highway robbery, and Byron had quite a stash of tea. An enormous stash of tea. He was going to load Mousy down with some saddlebags and make her look the part. There was also the silverware, which was actual silver, the teapot, and a number of other valuables that needed liberation. 

Mousy grinned. “Okay, here’s my plan on how we’re going to get you out of here alive…” 



 

Insides squirming, Rye Mash fought off a wave of nervous nausea as he approached the city gate. He was a lone unicorn with twelve earth ponies in a train behind him, each one hobbled together with shackles going from one leg to the next. Each earth pony was hooded, a burlap sack secured over their head, blinding them. One earth pony was loaded down with saddlebags and something bundled up in a blanket was secured to her back. Each and every earth pony in the train looked miserable as they dragged their hooves through the snow. 

Rye Mash led them along with a rope he held in his telekinesis. He wasn’t sure if they could just walk out of here. He suspected that buyers came here to buy slaves, so they had to leave the city somehow. A cold, bitter wind blew and Rye Mash’s green cloak fluttered around his back. He trudged ahead, not knowing how this would end.

At the gate, nothing happened. No one even gave them a second glance. No one cared. Just another group of slaves and a slaver. A diamond dog yawned, letting out a high pitched whine, and then tried to scratch his belly through his heavy overcoat. 

With the city now behind them, Rye Mash did not let down his guard, but continued onwards, ready to draw his guns. All he had to do now was make it to the moonshiner’s camp and back to The Apogee. 

There was still the matter of explaining all of this to Bloody Velvet and Captain Spyglass— something that Rye knew was going to be quite a chore. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure everypony in his care was okay, his ears listening for both pained whimpers and the sounds of angry guards, which he was still waiting for. 

What Rye Mash did not know was that he was leading away the witnesses that would one day tell the stories that would make up his legend. These were the ponies that had watched him kill their owner with a shotgun blast to the dangly bits, the very sort of story that a pony likes to tell, should they ever get a chance or a friendly ear to bend. 
	
	
> Chapter 35
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Bloody Velvet seemed just a teensy-weensy bit angry and Rye Mash, who was feeling bold, continued to look her in the eye. He felt no need to justify what he had done. Velvet trembled, either from her disease or from near apoplectic rage. One eyelid fluttered, the corner of her mouth twitched, and when she blinked, it was out of synch. 

In the common room of The Apogee, eleven rescued slaves were getting warm, with Starjammer being a gracious, if silent host. Mousy too, was getting warm, but she was standing beside Rye, saying nothing, observing the contest of wills between Rye and Velvet. 

“Rye… what were you thinking? I mean, how could you just do this? You had the chance to just waltz right in, find out what you needed to know, and waltz right back out. You could have learned everything you needed to know—” 

“No,” Rye said in a forceful voice, butting in and cutting Velvet off. 

“No?” Velvet’s eyebrow rose. “And do tell, what magnificent excuse do you have that could possibly justify this? How could you possibly justify putting all of us at risk?” 

Ears drooping, Rye turned away and his gaze fell upon Mousy. He had his reasons, but he felt ashamed for having them. He had let his emotions get the better of him. He stood in silence, unable to look at Bloody Velvet, feeling very much like a colt being scolded by his mother. 

Rye felt his muzzle grabbed in the firm grasp of magic and his head was yanked around, forcing him to look into Bloody Velvet’s eyes once more. He blinked, then stared, and then attempted to pull himself free, but Velvet’s grip was just too strong, her magic irresistible. 

“Tell me. Make me understand. I know you have your reasons.” Velvet’s face hardened into an unreadable mask, her left cheek twitching. “And for your sake, they had better be good reasons… you’ve put us all at risk.” 

“He treated Mousy like a piece of meat!” Rye snapped, his lip curling back into a snarl as he once more tried to jerk his muzzle free of Velvet’s grip. “He grabbed her and started looking at her teeth and he was touching her and I wanted to kill him right there in the tea shop!” 

Much to Rye’s surprise, the grip upon his muzzle eased and then was gone completely. The hard look on Bloody Velvet’s face softened and Rye began to feel a little confused, no longer certain what was going on. His ears perked as he heard Mousy say, “You mean you did this for me?” 

Sucking in a deep breath, Rye felt his mouth go dry. Thinking back to the moment, he felt his rage boiling up again, and the muscles in his stomach quivered. He thought about Byron’s disgusting magic touching Mousy and his frogs began to sweat. It was the only thing he could think of that was worse than somepony trying to take his guns away. 

“I understand,” Bloody Velvet said as she stretched her neck out and bumped her snoot against Rye’s. “Had I been there with you, I might have even told you to kill the incorrigible bastard.” Velvet pulled away, but her eyes remained on Rye. “The whole town is on alert. There are guards and patrols everywhere. I’m not sure what we can do now.” 

“This is a good thing,” Rye said in a low voice. 

“How is this good thing? Do tell, Mister Mash.” A stern expression returned to Velvet’s face. “The town is swarming with armed guards. How are we going to get into the prison? What options did you leave us?” 

“If the guards are all out on the town, they’re not in the prison.” Mousy stepped forwards and brushed up against Rye’s side, a growing feeling of affection and attraction welling in her breast. “We’ve learned quite a bit from the prisoners. There is a back entrance to the prison, the slave gate. It’s further down the mountain… but just a ways. It’ll be guarded, but if we can dispose of the guards, we might be able to sneak inside the prison through the slave gate. The tunnel is not overly guarded and it goes right into the heart of the prison.” 

“Hmm.” Bloody Velvet eyed Mousy and then her gaze turned back to Rye. 

“Doctor Lapin is in the prison… he went soft and showed too much sympathy for the slaves. He was supposed to geld them, spay them, treat their wounds, and do things like surgically hobble them… and he did for a time. He suffered pangs of conscience and refused to bring harm to his patients. He’s locked away and they’ve been torturing him.” Rye gritted his teeth for a moment and wondered how he would say the rest of his budding plan without Bloody Velvet gelding him. 

Bloody Velvet sat down on the floor, reached up, and rubbed her convulsing cheek with the side of her fetlock. She heaved a weary sigh and then closed her eyes. Captain Spyglass had left her in charge. This was her call. She thought about pulling out, fleeing this place, but that would mean dealing with Princess Celestia. Velvet was curious as to why they needed Lapin and what he had to do with Stella. 

“To get inside of the prison, we’re going to need a small, stealthy group,” Mousy began, saying what needed to be said. “We’ll need Rye and his guns of course. I plan to go because we’ll need somepony sneaky… we’ll also need somepony to deal with locks. There are several locked gates along the way—” 

“You want to drag Woe into this?” Bloody Velvet’s eyes opened and her baleful gaze once more locked onto Rye and Mousy. 

“Well, she’s being trained for this,” Rye replied. 

“But we can’t have you and Starjammer going.” Mousy, seeing murder in Bloody Velvet’s eyes, took a step backwards and gave the unicorn mare a submissive smile, her ears drooped, and her tail tucked between her legs. 

“And why not?” Bloody Velvet asked in a cold voice. 

Rye Mash replied, “If something goes wrong we’ll need a rescue. You and Starjammer could level the castle, no doubt. There aren’t many unicorns on the side of the slavers. Oh, there’s a few, but they’re not very powerful. Byron was probably the most powerful unicorn they had, but he’s dead.” 

“Kerpow… shotgun blast… right to the potato sack.” Mousy’s lips puckered and she made a popping sound, then her eyes went wide and her ears stood up. “Rye actually pressed his shotgun right up against Lord High and Mighty’s crotch and pulled the trigger. Brass and lead went right up Lord High and Mighty’s bunghole. Blew his tail clean off.” 

“Oh… that’s ghastly…” Bloody Velvet cringed and shook her head. 

“Funny you say that, Byron thought that Rye was pretty ghastly too.” Mousy turned and looked at Rye. “I think he’s handsome. He made me feel special.” 

Bloody Velvet reached up and began to rub her temple. “Back on subject… do you think you can sneak inside and get Doctor Lapin and then get back out?” Velvet closed her eyes again, feeling a headache coming on. “Can you keep Woe safe? I’ve become very fond of her, I have. I miss my own foals that I left back at home.” 

Rye felt as though he had just been kicked in the stomach. He had forgotten that Bloody Velvet had once had a family before taking up life on an airship. She had once had a husband… foals… a life… wealth. She had once had everything. Of course she would be fond of Woe—even if Woe wasn’t exactly the cuddly, adorable type of foal. She was crude, crass, vulgar, and had a mouth dirtier than a chimney. 

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Mousy said in a low voice, “and it is even more dangerous to make promises you have no way of knowing if you can keep.” 

Bloody Velvet heaved a sigh, opened her eyes, and stared at the earth pony. Mousy’s ear was still a bit bloody from earlier. Mousy was canny, smart, far smarter than Bloody had first guessed, and if Velvet had to trust something, she could trust in Mousy’s cunning. Rye was shaping up to be a killer, but Mousy was ruthless. Together… Bloody Velvet could not help but feel that they would make quite a pair. 

“So we go to this back gate and I’ll take out the guards before they have a chance to alert anyone. I’ll give you, Mousy, and Woe an aversion spell to make you a little less noticeable. You’ll go inside and rescue Doctor Lapin.” Bloody Velvet cleared her throat. “Rye, this goes without saying, but we can’t hold all of the prisoners on this ship. I know this is a hard thing to have to do, but you can’t rescue everypony that you find. You can’t save them.” 

Rye nodded. “I know.” 

“And Spyglass is going to have kittens because of the ones you did rescue… I don’t know where we’ll put them. I guess we’ll have to sail back to Sable Blanc. He’s probably going to lecture you, Rye.” Bloody Velvet gave Rye a wry smile. 

“I’m due for a lecture anyway,” Rye replied. 

“We’ll sort out more of the plan later. For now, you two should get something to eat. It’s going to be a long night.” Bloody Velvet stood up on trembling legs and her gaze fell upon Rye. “I expect you to be just as protective of Woe as you are of Mousy. Today, you killed a pony just for touching your mare. If somepony, or something brings harm to Woe, I want you to do what you do best. Murderise the lot of them. No mercy, Rye. Just hot lead and plenty of it.” 

There was no mirth in Velvet’s words, no trace of jest, Rye Mash could only detect the sincere, heartfelt words of a mother asking for her foal to be looked after. He felt his guts clench and the muscles in his back tensed. He nodded. The back of his mind began to wonder what sort of messed up family was being formed here and what his part in it was. 

“Come on, Rye, let’s go get something to eat,” Mousy said as she bumped up against her husband. 



 

The common room was a bit crowded, but everypony was managing. Many of the rescued slaves lay upon the floor. Some had showered, others were waiting. Rye sat in a chair in the corner, sipping hot tea, while eating bread, butter, and jam. The soft sound of sobbing could be heard and it tugged upon his heartstrings. Some of the mares he had rescued had foals… foals that they might never see again. The rescue had brought freedom, but it had also brought heartbreak. 

He gnawed his bread, butter, and jam, his heart hardening, but still aching, realising that no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he could not make things right. He had saved these ponies and zebras from a terrible fate, but he had also separated mothers from their foals. There would be no going back for them, no happy reunions, and Rye saw no way of rescuing the foals from the prison without freeing the entire prison and killing every last slaver in Alpin. 

It was depressing, reaching the conclusion that there was very little that one could do to change things or make things better. His eyes glanced around the room, his flinty, almost sulky stare lingering upon those he had saved. He saw many grateful eyes looking back at him. Woe was going around the room and asking if anypony wanted more hot food and drink. 

“Rye…” 

Turning, Rye found himself almost face to face with Skeeter. 

“You ain’t going without me—”

“Oh no, Skeeter, I’m not putting you in danger.” Rye shook his head and his expression became apologetic. “I’m sorry, but there is no way you are coming along with me.” 

“Captain Spyglass charged me with keeping you safe and staying with you. Also, I’m your friend. I’m coming with you and that’s final. Besides, you might need a flyer.” Skeeter’s ears perked forwards in a bold, aggressive manner, and the blue pegasus let out a cantankerous snort. 

Skeeter brought up a very good point. Rye might need a flier. Rye agonised over the decision, he was already putting Mousy and Woe at risk, something he already felt bad about. He looked at Skeeter and realised that there would be no telling the pegasus no. 

“Be ready to go, Skeeter. We’re going under the cover of night.” Rye felt a sinking feeling even as he spoke the words. “No matter what, you stay close to me and we’ll try to stay out of trouble together, okay?” 

“Okay.” Skeeter nodded and then gave his friend a smile. 

Looking for an excuse to stay silent, Rye Mash jammed an entire slice of bread, butter, and jam into his mouth and began to chew as a growing feeling of worry began to fill him. Getting inside of the prison was going to be hard—getting back out of a prison—prisons were meant to keep prisoners inside. 

This was going to be a rough night. 
	
	
> Chapter 36
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Blinking, Rye Mash stood shivering in the freezing night air, looking down at the corpses in the snow. A dozen guards, a mix of griffons, diamond dogs, and a lone minotaur had been watching the slave gate. Starjammer had killed them all, but had done so at a cost to himself. The unicorn was now a bit fatigued, a bit peckish, and would need a little rest to be at peak fighting form, should a rescue be required. 

The clock was ticking, an unknown clock. If other guards came along to relieve these guards, the companions would be discovered. The plan was a fragile one, fraught with danger, and no doubt, there were a million ways this could go wrong. If it did go wrong, it might mean death for the companions, or worse. There were worse things than dying. 

The snow fell sideways and the wind let out a mournful howl as Woe Betide checked the bodies for weapons, trinkets, jewelry, and other valuables. The others were busy, distracted, preparing themselves for what was certain to be a difficult task. No one noticed when the filly pulled a small two shot derringer off of the body of the minotaur, a small concealed pistol tucked away in a deep breast pocket of the minotaur’s heavy greatcoat. She slipped the two shot derringer into her saddlebags, along with a tiny, shiny steel tube of black powder, a circular container of lead shot, and a small leather pouch filled with things like wadding. 

Woe also relieved his corpse of his rings, one of which had a green gemstone the size of a pony’s tooth. Smiling to herself, she moved on to another corpse just as Rye Mash and Starjammer began to have themselves a look at the gate. 



 

“Be careful.” Rye Mash heard Starjammer’s soft-spoken words in his ear and he shivered, but it wasn’t from the intense cold. Rye turned just as he felt himself being seized in magic and pulled towards Starjammer, who had an intense look of worry in his eye. A second later, Rye felt Starjammer’s lips on his. 

The kiss started out slow, almost shy, and then became something else entirely. With the intensity and fire it contained, the kiss became indistinguishable from the kiss of a mare, it just became a kiss, a loving, worried kiss from a pony wishing to show affection and care. It took Rye’s breath away and made his knees tremble. He tried kissing back, but he lacked the experience and the willpower to assert any dominance. It was all he could do to remain upright and he allowed the kiss to continue to happen to him.

Starjammer pulled away with a slobbery slurp and for one confusing moment, Rye could only see Starjammer as a mare, a mare whose heart threatened to break from worry. It was the eyes, or perhaps the expression upon Starjammer’s face, Rye couldn’t tell.

“I’ll come back to you,” Rye managed to whisper as the falling snow clung to his now damp muzzle. The wind made his wet nose and lips sting. He glanced at Mousy, then at Starjammer, and saw Starjammer looking at Mousy, that same look of worry in his eyes. 

As Rye stood there, trying to figure the confusing situation out, Starjammer pulled Mousy in for a quick kiss, and then a crushing hug. Something was whispered into Mousy’s ear, but Rye could not hear it over the screaming demon wind. There was another kiss, this time Starjammer pressed his muzzle against the side of Mousy’s face, just below her ear. This kiss lingered, with Starjammer’s eyes closed, and Rye saw Mousy’s lips moving, but he did not hear what was being said. 

The two ponies pulled themselves apart and Rye Mash made himself ready. They had wasted enough time. He looked at his companions; Woe was ready to go, she looked eager, Skeeter was keeping a wary eye on the woods around them, and Mousy was composing herself after the moment of intense affection with Starjammer. 

“Let’s move,” Rye said as he turned to face the gate. 



 

The passage was narrow, wide enough for two ponies to walk side by side, or for a narrow wagon to be pulled. The floor, dirt, was rutted, wagons had passed through here, or carts, or whatever it was that the slavers used for transport. This tunnel had been dug out of the mountain. The walls were rough hewn, crude, and lacked any sort of finish. 

Rye had no way of knowing if Bloody Velvet’s aversion spell was working. The plan had changed a little at the last minute, and Velvet had stayed with the ship. It had been Starjammer who had come along to take out the camp—no doubt so he could say goodbye in his own special way. 

The passage began to slope upwards and began to curve a bit. Rye crept forwards, his hooves almost silent, Bloody Velvet had done a bit more than just an aversion spell. The group moved as one, Rye and Mousy walking abreast up front, with Skeeter and Woe also walking abreast in the rear. 

Woe, who had shorter legs, did an admirable job of keeping up. She trotted double time, looking pleased with herself, her small saddlebags flapping against her sides a whole lot less now that they were loaded down with valuables. She had shinies, trinkets, baubles, a veritable fortune of ill gotten gains looted off of the bodies of the dead. The dead, being dead, had no need for treasures any longer, but Woe certainly did. 

It wasn’t long until the companions came to the first of several gates they would encounter. Woe went to work as Rye Mash stood guard. Beyond the gate, there was a fork in the passage. The left passage continued to the prison, the right passage veered off into a processing area, a series of rooms where slaves could be checked for contraband and examined after a day of labour. There were also rooms for the guards at the outside gate to rest in, eat, and get warm. 

This was also the place where it got dangerous. If there were guards in the rooms ahead, there was bound to be a scuffle. Woe popped the lock on the gate and it swung open, creaking, squealing, and Rye Mash gritted his teeth together. 

Saying nothing, Mousy moved ahead, slipped into the shadows, and then was gone. Rye stood, not quite believing what he had just seen, refusing to believe that Mousy had just vanished. He stood, his ears straining, knowing that Mousy was probably doing her thing—being sneaky. He just wished that she had given him some sort of warning. 

He stood, frazzled, worried, waiting, listening for sounds of trouble, ready to draw iron and start shooting. He peered into the darkness of the passage ahead, not knowing what to expect. Seconds began to feel like minutes, and minutes like hours. He looked down at Woe, who was studying the locking mechanism. He felt some pride for her, making the most of this time, and hoped that he would remember to mention this to Bloody Velvet. 

Mousy appeared just as suddenly as she had vanished, stepping out of the shadows with a wide grin. Rye looked at her, feeling relieved, and very glad to see her. He saw her take a deep breath, her sides expanding, and he listened, knowing that Mousy had a very soft whisper. 

“Two guards,” Mousy reported in a low voice, “and one of them sleeps with Madam Cognac. The other looks like he’s sick or something, he’s all snotty. He can’t hardly breathe.” 

“What do we do?” Skeeter asked. 

In reply, Rye Mash drew his hanger sword and strode forward, ready to do what needed to be done. He saw the pained look upon Skeeter’s face, but he also saw understanding. There was no way they could leave two guards behind them as they progressed further in. He saw Skeeter nod. 

Rye walked down the passage, his head low, his eyes open for treachery or danger. Mousy moved beside him. The pair passed through an open door together and into a series of rooms. There were cells against the far wall, a table covered in playing cards, a few chairs that had seen better days, and an open door that Mousy gestured towards. 

Moving with swift assurance, Rye passed through the open doorway and into the sleeping quarters. Just inside the door there was a bed with a sleeping diamond dog, a bottle clutched in his paws. He let out little whimpers as he slept. Lifting his head, Rye looked at the other bed that had an occupant at the other end of the room, another diamond dog, whose laboured snuffles filled Rye’s ears. 

“Throats, Rye,” Mousy said in a voice that held no trace of emotion, “if you do it quick and clean, there’ll be no screaming.” 

Rye nodded, gripped his hanger in his telekinesis, a grimace appeared upon his muzzle, and with a swift, smooth movement, he jammed the hanger right below the sleeping diamond dog’s jowls. 

There was a wet gurgle as the diamond dog’s eyes flew open and the creature clutched its throat, the bottle that it had been holding rolling out of the bed. Mousy caught it in her fetlocks and set it down upon another bed before it could smash and make noise. A geyser of blood sprayed from the diamond dog’s throat as Rye pulled his sword free, turning the wall beside the bed crimson. It kicked and thrashed a bit, all while making wet, whooshing sounds, but Rye saw none of it. He was creeping along to the second bed, his bloodied sword held out in front of him. 

Again, he struck, swift and silent, plunging the broad tip of his hanger into the sleeping creature’s neck. He stepped back, all too aware that blood sprayed, and then sidestepped when a jet of scarlet liquid surprised him with some real distance. The second diamond dog clawed at its neck as it too, slowly died. Rye did nothing to aid their passing as they bled out, wide eyed, making wet, gurgling, almost silent whimpers of pain. 

He turned and saw Skeeter in the doorway. The pegasus looked grim, his eyes were narrowed, and for a moment, their eyes locked together. Rye felt a brief twinge of shame, but the feeling passed. Rye hoped that Skeeter understood the necessity of what had taken place, and why this had to happen. 

Woe Betide shoved her way past Skeeter and began to loot the trunks at the end of each bed. Rye watched her, glanced at Mousy, and then at Skeeter. After a moment, he looked at Woe again and watched as the filly dug around. 

“I don’t know if we have time for looting,” Rye said in a low whisper. 

Saying nothing in reply, Woe lifted up a keyring with several heavy keys. She jangled them to make her point, and then continued looting the trunk she had opened. She pulled out a curved, wicked looking dagger, which she tucked beneath the strap of her saddlebags, a small bottle of whiskey, which she also tucked away, and a collection of neat, clean bandannas, which also disappeared. 

“I think I’m good to go,” Woe said in a squeaky whisper. “There’s a lot to loot here though, it’s shame to leave it all behind.” 

Mousy gave an enthusiastic nod and then looked around at the unlooted trunks. There could be all kinds of treasures hidden away. The earth pony heaved a sigh, wishing there was more time for plundering. She blinked when a final burbling gurgle came out of one of the diamond dogs, and turned to look as the creature went still. 

After some twitching, the second one went still as well. Rye felt pleased with how everything was turning out. It was time to go. He looked at his companions, wiped his bloody sword clean upon a blanket, sniffed once, and then in a low whisper, he announced, “Come on, all of you, it is time to go…” 
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 37
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Almost right away, Rye Mash was happy that Skeeter had come along. Ahead was a yawning chasm, a natural barrier in the underground passage. The rescued slaves had said nothing about this. Below, there were spikes, old bones, and a few corpses that were a little too fresh. Peering ahead from the shadows, Rye could see a bridge that would swing out and a lopsided wooden shack that served as a guard station. 

There was a guard, a one eyed unicorn that paced back and forth near the place where the swing out bridge was anchored. When the pony paced, he had his eye facing the chasm while he went one way, and his blind side faced the chasm when he went the other. 

At the moment, Rye wasn’t quite sure what to do. He didn’t want to shoot the guard, that would make a lot of noise. If he sent Skeeter over, Skeeter might be at risk. Rye wasn’t sure what the unicorn could do as far as magic, but the guard pony could raise an alarm. 

As he stood there, trying to figure out what he was going to do next, he felt Woe Betide slip in between his forelegs. She stood below him, concealing herself as much as she could in the shadows. Looking down, he saw Woe’s tongue sticking out from her muzzle. A look of concentration was on her face. Her horn glowed and Rye noticed a rock was held in her telekinesis. 

The wily foal waited until the one eyed unicorn had their blind side toward them and she hurled the rock with her telekinesis, using every lesson that Bloody Velvet had given her to guide the rock in it’s flight. Above her, Rye’s head tilted off to one side as he watched the stone hurtling towards its unaware target. 

“Teehee!” 

Just as Woe let out a triumphant giggle, the rock clipped the blindsided unicorn right in the ear. With a grunt, the poor equine wobbled, stumbled, and then, pitched down to the ground face first. 

As the unicorn flailed helplessly on the ground, Skeeter took off, flying forward with caution, streaking over to the ramshackle guard post. He landed, eyeing the unicorn, and began operating the crank that swung the bridge out. 

The unicorn lay in an ever expanding puddle of blood that oozed from his ear. His head was lumpy and misshapen. The flying rock had fractured his skull. He let out a pleading gurgle and his legs twitched as he lay there, helpless. 

Before the bridge had even snapped into place, Mousy lept onto it, began crossing the chasm, her bright eyes darting to and fro as she pushed forwards. She reached the other side in three shakes of her tail, had a look around, and before anypony could say anything, she rolled the helpless unicorn over the edge and sent his body plummeting into the spike filled chasm. 

“Oooh…” Woe gasped, “eeeew… he’s squirting.” The filly looked down and could see the now impaled unicorn in the faint light. She looked up at Rye, who stood over her. “How long do you think it will take him to die?” 

“Not long enough,” Rye replied with as dry wit as he could muster. 

“You and Mousy are kinda mean.” Woe shot out from between Rye’s forelegs and began to cross the bridge. 

“I reckon we are.” Rye nodded as he followed after the filly, saying nothing about the fact it had been Woe’s sneak attack that had laid the unicorn low, fractured his skull, and been the primary source of pain and misery in the events leading up to the unicorn’s death, however long that took. 

Below him, as Rye crossed the bridge, the unicorn kicked and twitched where he had been impaled, and then gasped out his last breath. Rye crossed the bridge, his hanger sword drawn, his eyes focused upon the tunnel up ahead. 

Mousy darted inside of the crude shack and then emerged a moment later, looking disgusted. She hurried away from the shack, her tail between her legs, shaking her head as she went to Rye’s side. 

Skeeter also checked out the shack, peering inside, and then, he too, backed away, looking horrified. His wings twitched against his sides and the stallion snorted and gulped as he backed away. 

Rye thought about having a look to see what the big deal was, but then decided that he didn’t need to know. Woe was almost glued to his legs again. Mousy, though disgusted, was ready to go. Skeeter was recovering from whatever he had seen in the shack. 

There wasn’t far to go, Rye hoped. At the end of the passage was the prison entrance, and from there, the prison infirmary was near the entrance. When slaves were returned in need of care, if they got the care they needed, the infirmary was conveniently located near the entrance. Slaves that worked hard were not squandered, it seemed, and the prison had had a doctor on staff… Doctor Lapin. 

Saying nothing, Rye Mash made his way further into the prison, following the dim underground passage, wondering what they would encounter next. So far, this had gone better then he had hoped. Deaths had been few. So far, this was a lot better than a full on assault and a bloodbath. 

The entrance had a surprising lack of guards. Oh, there were a few, but they hadn’t noticed Rye or his companions just yet. Rye studied the gate. It was open. Sometimes, it was open, other times, it was closed, or so the rescued slaves had told him. Woe had opened several gates along the way in the passage. 

Beyond the gate was a large, open area and the rough stone of the passage gave way to bricks and mortar. There were holding cells, a stone building with well lit windows, and the indoor exercise yard. 

Squinting, Rye looked at the holding cells. Most were empty, save one, and what he saw piqued his interest. He looked up at the guards at the gate, a few diamond dogs and a minotaur. They had guns, muskets by the looks of things. Rye wasn’t certain that the muskets would be so useful. 

Glancing at Woe, he pointed at the holding cells and then made a gesture, turning his hoof, trying to act like he was turning a key. After a moment, Woe’s eyes lit up with understanding. Ducking deeper into the shadows, her horn lit up and the cell door lock began to glow. 

After what felt like minutes, the lock clicked and the cell door swung open. The manticore in the cell howled with fury. There was a cry of alarm from the guards, who immediately fled their posts near the gate to find cover. 

Roaring, the manticore began tearing around the open area beyond the gate. More guards emerged out of the stone building. There was popping crackle of musket fire, followed by bellows of rage from the manticore. 

Rye Mash crept forwards, his companions on his heels, and they slipped through the gate together. They went left beyond the gate, heading for a wide stone archway, which Rye knew was the entrance to the infirmary, or so he had been told by the rescued slaves. Moving at a swift pace, Rye kept one wary eye on the manticore, which was busy mauling the guards. 

He had no idea why a manticore was here in the prison, but he suspected that manticore venom was valuable. Or perhaps bits of the creature were used in alchemy, like the claws, the teeth, or some of its organs. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if he had to fight the manticore, but he hoped that his shotgun was up to the task. 



 

As Rye burst into the infirmary, he was greeted by one very surprised griffon. Skeeter saw him coming before Rye did, he came in from the left of the door in an attempt to get a sneak attack. The pegasus blocked the incoming claws with his hoof, twisted his body around, and then delivered a powerful buck to the griffon’s beak. 

The results were explosive and final—the griffon’s beak shattered on impact and his head snapped backwards, breaking his neck. Skeeter wickered, his sides heaving, and blood trickled down his foreleg where the griffon’s talons had grazed him. 

It didn’t take long for Rye to find what he was looking for. The infirmary cells were in a long hallway that extended from the main room. He made his way down the hall, knowing that it dead ended, and he stopped at the fourth door. He turned and looked at Woe, who was trotting down the hallway, her saddlebags bouncing against her sides. 

There was a roar of pain that drifted into the infirmary from the main room where the manticore had been freed. Rye, angling his head, looked at the doorway for the infirmary, and realised that this would be a dreadful place to get trapped. There was only one way to get in and out. This was where all of this could end, and end in a bad way. 

With a loud click, Woe got the door open. Rye Mash pushed his way into the cell and was immediately met by a pink pegasus with a rainbow mane. She stood protectively over a body in the corner and it took Rye a moment to realise that she had only one wing. 

“I won’t let you hurt him!” 

The pegasus was little more than a filly, Rye figured that she had to be about his age. Old enough. She was almost a mare. She tossed her head around, snorted, and she waved her remaining wing around. She was crusted with dirt, but she was still pretty, one wing or no. Her mane and her tail were the most distinctive colours, a full rainbow. 

“We’re not here to hurt him,” Rye said in a calm voice, “we’re here to rescue him. My name is Rye Mash and I was sent here to recover Doctor Lapin.” Looking down, Rye saw the battered looking diamond dog in the corner, laying on a pallet of filthy straw. He was curled up and he whimpered with each breath. The diamond dog wasn’t very big, as far as diamond dogs went, and he was covered in oozing scabs. “Who are you?” 

The pegasus did nothing to relax her guard and kept her rose coloured eyes on Rye Mash. “My name is Prism Gem. What do you plan to do with Doctor Lapin?” 

Rye felt Mousy brushing up against him as she pushed her way through the door. Woe Betide was standing beneath him, peeking out from between his front legs. Skeeter stood in the hallway, keeping watch. He gave the riled up pegasus a warm smile. 

“I need to speak to him. I need information that he has. It is my intention to rescue him, get him healed, and then protect him as a valuable asset. I give you my word that I do not intend to harm him.” 

The pegasus’ wing folded against her side. “I am Doctor Lapin’s most valuable asset and his assistant. I’m not letting you take him unless you take me as well. He needs me to do his great work.” 

Rye, knowing that he was pressed for time, was still intrigued. “Great work?” 

Prism Gem looked down at the diamond dog on the floor and then back at Rye. “My blood can go into any other pony and give them life. The good doctor is trying to understand why. He believes I am one of a kind.”

“I see.” Rye didn’t understand, nor was there enough time to explain. It was time to go. “Mousy, think you can carry the doctor on your back? He doesn’t look well. He isn’t very big.” 

“I can,” Mousy replied. 

“Miss Gem, are you well enough to come with us? We must move swiftly and make our escape.” Rye, staring at the pegasus filly, wondered if he would get an honest answer. One eyebrow raised in an arch as he studied her. 

“My place is by his side. I’ll be fine.” Prism Gem stepped aside and allowed Mousy to come closer to the diamond dog lying on the floor in a heap. “They’re starving him… they left me in here with him… they hoped they could break him… and make him… and make him…” the pegasus filly fell silent and her lone wing fluttered against her side. “But he wouldn’t. I think he’s dying.” 

“A good dog is loyal.” The words that came from the diamond dog were a feeble, raspy growl. “I did not like being a bad dog. I will die a good dog.” 

“Nope, no dying.” Rye stepped forwards and with a great deal of strain, he lifted the diamond dog up and placed him on Mousy’s back. Doctor Lapin slumped over, unable to hold himself up, and Rye Mash felt pity for the emaciated, almost skeletal creature. 

“Uh, Rye…” 

“Yeah?” Rye turned to look at Skeeter. 

“I think we have company…” 



 

There were a number of guards standing in the entry tunnel that lead out of the infirmary and into the main entryway chamber. They had guns. Rye had stuck his head out to have a look and had almost caught a bullet with his face. He had Right Nut and Left Nut out. His blood was already singing the song of battle. His heart thudded in his ribs. This was going to get bloody. 

Woe, grinned and held up a bottle of whiskey she had filched earlier. There was a bandanna sticking out of the neck of the bottle. A menacing evil gleam glowed in the small filly’s remaining eye. Her horn glowed and the bandanna sticking out of the whiskey bottle burst into flames. 

Lunging forwards, Woe, putting herself at risk of being shot, went out into the hallway, took aim, and lobbed her flaming cocktail bottle at the guards. It arced through the air, streaming flames, and crashed into the wall next to one very startled looking griffon. The area around the guards burst into flames. Feathers and fur ignited. There were screams and the area filled with the scent of burning feathers, scorched hair, and seared flesh. 

Woe Betide giggled as she took cover, ducking back into the room with Rye and the others. Screams filled the infirmary. Prism Gem gagged when the stench hit her nose, and a second later, Mousy did the same. 

The sounds of gunfire filled the infirmary as the muskets the guards had ignited. There was more screaming after the sounds of discharge. Rye, holding his pistols, made his way out into the hallway. No one shot at him and he saw the group of guards trying to extinguish themselves and each other. Blood was pooling on the floor. When the muskets had gone off, there had been injuries. One of the diamond dogs looked gutshot. 

A minotaur lunged forwards, his arm still on fire, and raised his axe as he charged Rye. Showing no concern, Rye took aim as the big creature lumbered through the main room of the infirmary and when the minotaur reached the hallway that held the infirmary cells, Rye fired Right Nut, taking aim at the minotaur’s face. 

The bullet went into the minotaur’s eye and exploded out of the back of the minotaur’s skull. The mighty creature toppled over and lay twitching on the floor. A curl of black smoke rose from the end of Rye’s pistol. Rye began reloading and kept his eyes on the other guards as he made his way forwards. 

“Don’t,” Rye warned as a griffon struggled to reload his musket. 

A second later, Left Nut discharged, the sound almost deafening in the close quarters of the infirmary, the stone walls amplifying everything. The bullet struck the griffon in the shoulder, almost tearing his left foreleg off, and the musket clattered to the floor. Rye reloaded, acting on reflex. 

He heard shouting in the distance, out in the entryway area. Rye knew that they needed to leave, and they needed to leave now. He heard a faint squeak and Woe went shooting past him. She rolled under a table, taking cover, and out of the corners of his vision, Rye saw that the filly was looting the infirmary of valuable goods with her telekinesis. 

Drawing the pepperbox, Rye made several rapid fire shots, putting the flaming guards out of their misery. He watched as the bodies went still, he listened as blood sizzled and popped on the flaming floor. 

“Woe, grab what you can… the rest of you, let’s go!” Rye barked as he checked the bodies. He didn’t want any surprises. He began to reload the pepperbox and he thought about his odds of making it out of here. He still had to make his way down the passage. He needed to destroy the bridge somehow. It wouldn’t slow down any griffon guards, but it would still be helpful. He felt a faint twinge of regret that he couldn’t free the slaves here. 

Woe began stuffing things into Rye’s saddlebags; bottles of medical grade alcohol, laudanum, other pills, phials of strange liquids, bandages, gauze, thread, boxes of needles, surgical tools, she was emptying out the cabinets as fast as she could and trying to cram in as much as possible. 

Stepping over the flaming corpses, Rye made his way into the entryway, alert for any sign of trouble, and worried about the manticore he had loosed. That was a bastard thing to do, but he didn’t feel too shook up about it. He doubted he would lose sleep over it. There were bodies everywhere. Mutilated bodies and ripped off limbs. 

Lying in a heap in the middle of the entryway chamber was the manticore. Rye blinked as he took it all in. Dozens and dozens of guards lay dead all over the place. A major battle had taken place here. A bullet went whizzing past his head and as Rye jerked himself back into the doorway to take cover, another bullet grazed his neck. 

“Oh feck me,” Rye swore as he backed into the hallway. His neck burned and he could feel blood coming out in a steady trickle. At least it wasn’t arterial spurting. He drew out his scoped pistol, gritted his teeth, and then once more, he stuck his head out into danger. There were two shots and he felt a second bullet graze him, this time just below his jaw. The pain filled his vision with stars, but he knew where the shot was coming from. He raised his scoped pistol, peeped through, and saw the enlarged image of a diamond dog reloading from behind partial cover. All he had was part of the creature’s shoulder, an ear, and his elbow. Rye, being a bastard of the worst stripe, picked the elbow. His scope focused on the elbow, and when Rye had his target in the crosshairs, he fired. 

A second later, there was a long, keening howl of agony that filled the entryway chamber. A foreleg flopped on the ground near some crates close to the gate. The second guard, a minotaur, rose up from behind the crates, took aim with his freshly reloaded musket, and fired at Rye, just as Rye was leveling Right Nut. 

The pair exchanged bullets. The minotaur’s bullet passed through Rye’s right front foreleg, just above his elbow, and Rye’s bullet went through the minotaur’s neck. There was a gushing geyser of crimson from the minotaur, and Rye limped for what little cover there was to be had, heading towards the crates near the gate. 

Nothing else was shooting at him. He began to reload and realised that he was bleeding pretty bad from multiple places. The flesh wounds below his jaw and on his neck were steady trickles, but the hole in his leg was pretty bad, with blood dribbling out of both the entry wound and exit wound. 

Rye’s companions scooted through the open area, moving as fast as they could, and with several pistols drawn, Rye led them through the gate. He ignored the pain in his leg as he limped along, leaving behind a trail of scarlet as a proof of his passing. 

Mousy moved along quite well with Doctor Lapin on her back, moving with swift, smooth grace, and not allowing her precious cargo to fall. Prism Gem stumbled and almost fell over. Skeeter, bending his legs, darted forward, slid beneath the filly and then stood up, causing her to let out a squeal of shock and surprise. 

Woe Betide, running to catch up to Rye, held a roll of cloth bandage in her telekinesis. She began wrapping it around Rye’s leg as they walked, a look of worry upon her face. Bloody Velvet had promised to paddle Woe’s arse a new shade of pink if something happened to Rye. Woe knew that Bloody would do it too—she had spied on Bloody Velvet paddling Starjammer’s backside a new shade of pink. 

Not knowing what was safe, or what might lie ahead, Rye wasn’t sure what to do. He needed to be up front to fight danger if they ran into it, but he was also worried about a guard patrol coming down the passage and attacking from the rear. His head jerked back and forth as he tried to look ahead and behind, and his frantic movements caused the tear in his neck to bleed profusely. 

Rye was starting to feel a little woozy. 



 

As they neared the bridge, Rye almost stumbled. They seemed free and clear, but Rye was afraid to let his guard down. Nothing was chasing them, nothing was shooting at him, there was nothing at all. He wasn’t even sure how to destroy the bridge. 

His hooves felt too heavy and Rye was having trouble holding up his guns. His magic felt weak, drained, he was having trouble maintaining his telekinesis. He was unaware of the fact that his thaumaturgical system had been damaged and that his precious magical liquids, his mana, was leaking out of neck with his blood. 

In his mouth, his tongue felt too large. He was thirsty and his stomach felt empty. The emptiness was a painful, gut wrenching ache. His horn began to have a peculiar sensation as he crossed the bridge. 

On the other side of the bridge, Woe Betide waited for her companions to cross, and then, after rummaging around in one of her saddlebags, she pulled out a glass bottle of medical grade alcohol. She tossed it on the wooden bridge. It shattered, sending glass flying everywhere, and soaked the bridge in eye watering alcohol. Woe’s horn glowed for a second, a bright, piercing light, and the puddle of alcohol ignited. 

The bridge began to blaze with blue fire. Woe watched the fire with her one manic, glittering eye, her only eye. The little filly let out a horrible obscene giggle as she watched the fire with rapt, horrible attention. In no time at all, the dry wood of the bridge was utterly ablaze, and the structure was consumed by fire. The passage began filling with eye burning smoke. 

Much to Rye’s relief, the smoke seemed to be sucked in the direction of the prison, but Rye, in his current addled state, could not guess why. He wasn’t doing very well and he knew it. He hoped that he had the strength to keep going. 

Going down the passage, the blazing fire behind them, Rye Mash careened into the wall and left behind a crimson smear of blood. His guns were away now, he couldn’t hold them up any longer. He stumbled forwards, almost appearing drunk, and his companions all eyed him with worry and concern. 



 

Nearing the exit, Rye Mash could smell fresh air, the scent of pine, and the smell of snow. He was having to focus on putting one hoof in front of the other now, which was much harder than he thought it would be. He felt heavy and sluggish. 

It was with great effort that he made his way through the guard barracks where he killed the first few guards they had encountered, stabbing them in the neck. As he walked, he left behind a glistening trail of blood. The bandage that Woe had tied around his leg was now stained a deep, rusty red and soaked clean through with blood. 

Ahead, Rye Mash saw a figure. He panicked, not knowing what to do, knowing that he couldn’t use his guns right now. Something was wrong with his magic. He just didn’t seem to have any. His stomach made a terrible squelching sound and Rye wondered what was wrong with him, he was worried that he was perhaps gutshot or something. 

He stumbled, having trouble seeing who it was ahead. His horn sparked, but he couldn’t get his telekinesis to work. He squinted, trying to see who it was. He was quite unprepared for what he heard next. It wasn’t often that Starjammer said very much at all… 

“Rye Mash… my beautiful, darling colt… what have those brutes done to you?” 
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 38
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Letting out a pained moan, Rye Mash wished that he had not awoken. He felt stiff and sore all over. The bandages around his neck crinkled as he tried to move. His body felt too heavy and too sluggish. There was a warm body beside him, but he wasn’t sure who it was. 

His mouth was as dry as a desert and there was an emptiness in his stomach that Rye had never felt before. After several more seconds, Rye Mash realised he was not in his bed, but was laying on the floor, perhaps. The ceiling was much further away than usual. 

He heard the soft —whump whump— of hooves striking wood. Something large loomed in his vision, but his vision was fuzzy. He tried swallowing so he could talk, he tried to summon whatever spit he could so he could speak. 

“Rye, stay still. I don’t know how you woke up, my magic was supposed to keep you asleep,” Bloody Velvet said in a soft voice that was somehow soothing in Rye’s ears. “You got hurt real bad, Rye. One of the organs for your magic was struck. We got you fixed up though, you’ll be fine. Doctor Lapin helped as much as he could, but it was little Woe that did the stitching and the surgery to stop the leakage, with Lapin telling her what to do. She’s something. Prism Gem gave you some of her blood… I don’t know how it works, but it saved you. We about lost you. Starjammer started weeping… it was awful hearing him cry.” 

Rye let out a croak as he felt his head being lifted. The pain was bad and his vision blurred to the point of uselessness. He felt something pressing up against his lips and he drank, his body reacting without thought or will. The water was rather warm, but he didn’t care. It slid over his parched tongue and brought relief. 

“Captain Spyglass is real proud of you and what you did. The ponies you rescued are on The Whalefish. We’re flying back to Sable Blanc. Doctor Lapin has already been telling us a lot of good things to know. He’s real grateful that he was rescued and he’s real happy that you saved his assistant. I’ve never seen a diamond dog be so nice to a pony before. I like Lapin… if something were to hurt him… I’d probably skin them alive. ” 

Coughing, Rye sputtered as he failed to swallow water. It dribbled from his muzzle and down to his stomach. He felt the body beside him shift, and then there was a sleepy snort. Rye had a strange, confusing moment when he realised that the word ‘lapin’ meant rabbit. He didn’t know how he knew that. 

“Go back to sleep Rye… it’s best for you this way. Sleep…” 

Bloody Velvet’s command was irresistible and Rye felt himself slipping away. 



 

Standing on weak, wobbly legs, Rye Mash looked down upon Sable Blanc as they approached. It was different somehow, approaching it over land rather than over the sea. The ocean spread out before them, an endless expanse of blue green that stretched out to the horizon, right off to what appeared to be the edge of the world. 

He coughed a little, his throat still a little sore, but he was feeling much better. Beside him, Mousy stood, she was anxious, worried, and fretful of his condition. Not far away, sitting on the deck, Doctor Lapin was getting some much needed sun. The poor, battered diamond dog was recovering from his stay as a guest in the prison. He was still scabby and emaciated looking, but he was now clean, at least. Prism Gem, the one winged pegasus stood near him, smiling, her pink pelt now looking a little more vibrant and a whole lot cleaner. Her rainbow mane and tail whipped around in the breeze. 

Of Starjammer, there was no sign. He was over on The Whalefish and Rye did not know what he was doing over there. Starjammer had been tinkering with the ships though, testing out new ideas and experimenting with magical enchantments. 

Woe Betide was practicing her sewing skills, and by extension, giving her telekinesis a workout. She made fine, small stitches on a piece of scrap cloth, her lips were puckered, and her little orange tongue hung out of her mouth in concentration. 

There was one thing that stood out in sharp contrast in the city of Sable Blanc, something that was impossible to ignore. Princess Celestia’s royal yacht was still moored in the harbour. Rye felt nervous when he noticed it and he began to worry about what Princess Celestia might think about his methods. He realised that he cared about what she thought of him. For whatever reason, he wanted her approval. 

She had given him his hanger sword, a fine gift, something that he treasured. It was a practical, thoughtful gift for somepony in his profession. Seeing her airship, Rye looked forward to meeting her, and he wondered what she might have to say about the whole of the situation they were in.



 

It was strange how something as simple as a flight over a country could take one from brutal, bone chilling winter temperatures to a balmy, pleasant summer climate. Rye felt the ship rock and shudder a bit as it settled into its mooring. Sable Blanc awaited once again, and truth be told, Rye was eager to be back. He liked this place. He liked everything about it. It would serve as a quiet place for healing, and Rye wondered if that was the reason that Princess Celestia was here. 

As the ship was being tethered, Rye saw pegasi wearing the armor of the royal guard flying over to greet them, but no sign of Princess Celestia herself. No time wasted. The royal guard meant business. Rye’s tattered and blood stained green cloak fluttered in the wind. He adjusted his leather body harness, the leather something that he never even gave a second thought to now, and tried to make himself look as presentable as he could. His neck was still bandaged, his mane was ratty looking, and his leg was also wrapped in bandages where he had been shot. 

The first of the guards landed on the deck with a thump and Rye held his head high. He had standards. He saw Lapin and the poor diamond dog looked terrified. Prism Gem was moving in front of him, her face looking grim. Skeeter moved a little closer to Prism Gem, but he was smiling, his smile somehow making his scarred face look a little better. 

With a fluttering of wings, Captain Spyglass landed near Rye. The captain folded his wings, shook himself, and then stepped forwards to greet the royal guards, his expression stern and serious. 

“Greetings,” Spyglass said in a smooth, charismatic voice. 

One of the guards stepped forwards, bowed his head, and then looked at Captain Spyglass. “I am relieved to see you. How do you do?” The guard looked around the deck and his gaze settled upon Doctor Lapin. “Her Royal Majesty, the Princess Celestia wishes to meet with Doctor Lapin face to face. I was told to offer promises and assurances of his safety. Princess Celestia wishes to know about her student.” 

Prism Gem let out a whimpering sound and her one wing fluttered at her side as her hooves clopped upon the wooden deck. She backed up a little bit, closer to Lapin, and her eyes narrowed. After a moment, she glanced at Rye, then at Skeeter, and the expression in her eyes was one of pleading. 

The guard, noticing the distraught filly, brought himself to attention. “Miss, I offer you my assurances, no harm will come to Doctor Lapin. Princess Celestia does not wish to keep him forever. She only wants to speak to him for a short time, and then he will be returned to you.” 

“I don’t trust you,” Prism Gem said in a low voice. She pointed at Rye with one raised front hoof. “I trust him, because I’ve shared my blood with him and he owes me… but I don’t trust you.” 

“Sir, if I might offer a suggestion?” Captain Spyglass asked. 

The guard eyed Spyglass and nodded. 

“I have spoken with the young Miss Gem. She is meek and mild mannered, I assure you. I offer you my good word that she will behave well. Take her with you so that her mind can be at ease. She has a… special bond with Doctor Lapin. They shared confinement together for an extended period of time. They both become anxious when separated.” 

“I have no objections to that,” the guard replied. He looked over at the anxious filly. “Miss, would you be agreeable to this arrangement?” 

Prism Gem, who looked quite skittish, thought about everything said, and after a short time of reflection, nodded her head. “Yes, but I want Rye to come with me.” 

“Oh,” the guard began to chuckle, “you needn’t worry about that, Princess Celestia wants to see him. I assure you, everything will be fine.” 

Captain Spyglass, realising that the filly required just a little more assurance, stepped forwards. “I have already secured Doctor Lapin’s services as my surgeon. I really must insist that he is returned to me if we are to continue with Princess Celestia’s tasks.” 

The guard chuckled again and then bowed his head. “I give you my word, everything will be fine…” 



 

Cautious, concerned that Princess Celestia might be unwell, Rye Mash made his way down the hall, his head low, his ears pinned back, the bandages on his neck crinkling with his every step. He limped a little on his bad leg, but he did not let that slow him. He was eager to see the white alicorn, and he hoped that she was well. 

Behind him, the others followed, with Lapin shambling along with one paw resting upon Prism Gem’s back for support. Prism herself looked worried and out of sorts. Bloody Velvet had tried to brush the wild looking pegasus filly, but Prism was far too skittish and ticklish to hold still long enough for a good and proper brushing fit for a meeting with a princess. 

Just as Rye Mash reached the end of the hall where a door with a blazing sun symbol waited, the door was pulled open by an invisible force. Rye paused, licked his lips, realised that he looked pretty rough, and then made his way through the door. 

“Rye Mash… do come in… I was so worried for you, my little pony,” Princess Celestia said in a warm, inviting voice. The big white alicorn was resting on a large cushion in the pony loaf position. Her regalia and her shoes were scattered around her. The room was messy, there were papers, maps, and books all around her in piles. 

Celestia’s head lifted higher when she saw Doctor Lapin and she let out a gasp. “Doctor Lapin… I have watched you from afar… thank you, Lapin, for looking after my little ponies.” 

The diamond dog froze, a worried, hurt expression upon his face, his jowls sagging, and his eyes were sad. “I did bad things… I did bad things. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you did bad things, but you realised that they were wrong and you tried to make up for them. Surely, the past can be forgiven,” Celestia said in a soft voice. “I have watched you for some time. I know your heart is good. You are troubled by what you have done… there are many who feel no such shame or guilt.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lapin said as he pitched over to the ground. Down on all fours, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Please, forgive me.” 

“You are forgiven,” Celestia replied. “Be the good dog that I know you can be.” 

Lapin let out a low whine and crawled a little closer to Celestia, while Prism Gem watched with startled confusion. Rye eased himself down to the floor and sat down near Celestia, thankful to take pressure off of his injured leg. 

“Doctor Lapin, you were the last one to see my student, Stella Scintilla.” Celestia, getting right to the point, spoke to the doctor in a pleading voice. “Not long after you checked her over, she vanished from me and I could no longer watch her from afar. I was hoping that you know something.” 

The diamond dog blinked, surprised, and he took a moment to think and recover. “I know a little about Stella… she was brought to me after one of her guards roughed her up. One of her hind legs was injured. The warden wanted to know if she would be fit to travel and if she was in good health… after I saw her, Peck and Paw took her and she was gone.” 

“Do you know where they took her? Do you know anything at all?” Celestia asked in a soft voice that held a hard, demanding edge. “If you know something, anything, I will be most grateful if you could tell me.” 

The diamond dog pulled himself together and took a seated position on the floor. He grunted when Prism sat down beside him and pressed herself up against him. Rye watched the pair, noting their closeness, their camaraderie. He felt himself wishing that Mousy was here with him. 

“Majesty,” Lapin said in a worried, raspy voice that was filled with gravel, “there is very little that I know. But I suspect that you know that I know something, and you would be correct. There were meetings… gatherings, and these meetings were protected against magical eavesdropping and intrusions—” 

“Yes…” Celestia nodded her head, eager to know more. 

“I do not know everything that is going on. All I know is, they are trying to open some kind of safe or maybe a prison cell or something. The lock is connected to the stars.” Lapin took a deep breath, his jowls quivering and flapping. “My former employers, they have taken Stella and others with star magic and they are going to try and find the Temple of Time in the Forgotten Wastes to see if they can roll back time to see the positions of the stars on a certain night about eight hundred years ago.” 

“I see.” Celestia’s brows creased as she began to look concerned. 

“Once they know the position that the stars were in on that night, they plan to use Stella and the others to move the stars above back into position so they can open the door. Lord Byron Bitters said that the door would be difficult to open, but not impossible.” 

“Oh dear… oh… no… oh dear,” Celestia stammered. 

“I take it this is bad?” Rye asked, thinking about Byron and Byron Bitter’s bitter end. 

“If that door opens, it could mean the end of the world,” Celestia replied. She focused her steely gaze upon Rye Mash. “We cannot let this happen. It will mean the end of all we know. The Elements of Harmony are lost… I cannot find them. What they want to do is open a prison. If it is opened… well…” Celestia fell silent and her eyes filled with tears. “I might be able to kill what lies locked away, but the consequences for such an act would be disastrous.” 

Rye sensed that there was something that Princess Celestia was not telling him, something important. Some precious bit of information that she was withholding. One eyebrow arched and he studied the great white mare. 

“So what can we do to help you?” Rye asked. 

Without hesitation, Celestia replied, “You must try to stop them.” 
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Chapter 39
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Of all the things that Rye Mash truly hated, insomnia was up there somewhere near the top of his list, right up there with ‘sneezing and the green apple splatters’ and ‘finding a half of a worm in the apple you just took a bite out of.’ Insomnia was a terrible thing, a ruthless tyrant that could not be struck down. King Insomnia had kicked him out of the Kingdom of Bed, and Rye had lost his warm shelter between Starjammer and Mousy. 

There was a lot that could be said about being the middle pony in a bed occupied with three ponies. There was a lot less turning over for one, both sides stayed toasty and being in the middle, one didn’t need to think about which side to warm against your bedmate. 

After slipping out of bed, he had encountered a very drunk and somewhat irritable Oola, who had made it clear that she was missing home and was not in the mood to be bothered. He had left her in the common room and had come out on deck. 

Even in the wee hours of morning, Sable Blanc had signs of life. Ponies were still up and awake, even at this hour, or ponies were just waking up to do early morning jobs, such as a baker getting ready to start making bread for the day. Bakers had it good, they had wonderful lives, as did cheesemongers and maybe even carpenters. 

They went to bed with clean consciences and slept the sweet sleep of the innocent, something Rye envied them for. As Rye paced the deck, walking along the length of it, back and forth, he heard the fluttering of wings… 



 

“Hello, my little teetotaler pony,” Princess Celestia said in a soft voice that held muted mirth, “how goes sobriety?” 

Surprised to see the white alicorn out and about all by herself, Rye Mash stared. He backed up and his rump bumped into the wooden rail. He stared up at the much larger mare, entranced by how beautiful she was in the moonlight. 

“This might surprise you, but I am a big filly,” Princess Celestia said in a low, soft whisper, “and I even put on my own shoes and everything.” 

Blinking, Rye continued staring upwards, his mouth dropping open a little as he did so, and his ears sank down to rest beside his face. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also kind of funny. She was also larger than life and utterly unobtainable, Rye reminded himself as he swallowed while trying to work up some saliva. 

“I too, have trouble sleeping at night,” Princess Celestia said as she turned away from Rye to look at the moon. She heaved a soft sigh, extended a wing, and pointed at the moon. “It is beautiful, is it not?” The white alicorn paused, folded her wing back against her side, and then shook her head. “We all make mistakes that take us from our beds. I know I have, how about you, Rye?” 

“It bothers me how easy it was.” Rye, feeling bold, took a step closer to Princess Celestia and stood near her on the deck. He could feel the heat radiating from her, it was like standing in the warm summer sun. Her warmth caused the chill in the night air to retreat. 

Rye waited for Princess Celestia to say something, some pithy phrase, some words of wisdom, some immortal bit of advice that would make everything better, but she said nothing. He stepped a little closer and was now inches away from her. He could hear the sounds of her breathing and his nose reminded him that the Sun Goddess was real. He could smell her, every scent that hung about her, from the smell of soap, to perfume, to the very fact that she was a mare. 

“Killing Byron doesn’t bother me… I’ve given it a lot thought and the world is better off without him living in it.” Rye stared down at his hooves and felt bad for saying what he had just said to Princess Celestia, but it was honest. He took a deep breath and found the courage to continue. 

“I do feel bad for killing the guards though. They were just doing their job. I crept up on them in their beds and I stabbed them with my sword. The sword you gave me.” Rye felt his mouth go dry and he licked his lips. 

“Those guards,” Princess Celestia replied, “who held slaves confined against their will, who probably tortured the slaves, those guards who helped to perpetuate misery.” 

“Wait.” Rye lifted his head and looked up at the white alicorn beside him. “Are you trying to say that it was okay for me to kill them?” 

“I am not saying anything of the sort.” Princess Celestia stared at the moon, her eyes half closed, and a pained expression caused her muzzle to appear to be less than perfect, fine lines and wrinkles could be seen upon her nasal bridge. “Had those guards chosen to live a better life, had they chosen a virtuous life, your paths would not have crossed.” 

Rye’s teeth clicked together as his jaw snapped shut. He gave some thought to Princess Celestia’s words. He too, looked at the moon, wondering what she saw when she gazed upon it. The mare in the moon had high visibility tonight, the series of craters that sort of looked like a pony’s head silhouette in profile if one squinted at it just right. 

“Rye Mash, you have to try and see things from a bigger perspective. Sometimes… sometimes, the events you participate in, you cannot determine what is right or what is wrong while you live and endure these troubling events. The best you can hope for is to just live… to survive. You do what you can until such a time that you can no longer do anything. Afterwards, history will be your judge. Any one single act of killing when viewed under such a narrow scope can be quite condemning, but to examine the times that a pony lived in, to see the world events around them, to see how they affected history, that is the true measure of a pony.” 

A bit confused, Rye nodded, but he wasn’t sure he understood. 

“Commander Hurricane is remembered as a very different pony than the actual Commander Hurricane. History is kind in this instance.” Princess Celestia fell silent and she stared at the moon, her ears splayed back against her head, and her eyes glimmered with moisture. “For the most part, Commander Hurricane is remembered as a fond figure for foals to pretend to be during Hearth’s Warming plays.” 

“You are history,” Rye said in a low voice, hoping that the alicorn beside him would not take offense. “You continue to exist through the ages and you write the history books and you tell the stories and you… you keep our history alive.” 

There was a low, pained gasp from Princess Celestia. “That might be true, and you have made a very astute observation, but even one such as I am not above history’s scrutiny. I am remembered for being a very different mare than how I actually am.” 

Rye blinked, wondering if Princess Celestia had altered history for her own benefit or if the ponies that worshipped her scrubbed history to keep everything as clean and white as she was. He didn’t say anything as he didn’t want to hurt her feelings or offend her. 

“Rye, you are already making a name for yourself. Even if you never killed again, if you found some way to be a pacifist, your name and your shadow would go ahead of you in your life. Others will know of you and what you do. Your name will be spoken with trepidation and fear by those who do bad things and you will be loved by those who are downtrodden and oppressed. You are Rye Mash, the pony who walked into a prison stronghold, gunned down hundreds of guards, rescued a kindly doctor plus his pegasus assistant, and then led the prisoners in a bloody revolt against those who held them captive.”

Aghast, Rye Mash shook his head. “But that isn’t what happened. I snuck in there like a thief! I tried to avoid killing… I did, honest… is… is…”—Rye stammered, trying to find the words to say—“is this how history will see me? When I am dead and gone, is this how I will be remembered?” 

“I dare say a slave who has been rescued and given freedom might take some creative liberties with how the story is told. With each telling, with each tale told at bedtime to their foals, with each story exchanged around a hearth, the story will change, will grow, and evolve. A few guards killed will turn into hundreds or will become a fight with impossible odds. Your courage and your valour will grow with each telling. You will have walked away without a scratch after having taken on an army.” 

Rye thought about the bandages around his neck and he tried to take in everything said. There was too much truth in Princess Celestia’s words and it was like a heavy burden placed upon his back. He began to understand that he would have no say on how history viewed him. The realisation almost floored him. 

“I suspect that history will give me undeserved kindness.” Princess Celestia turned away from the moon, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “All of my many mistakes, all of my faults, all of my failings, these are things that will not be remembered. Some of them are already forgotten.” 

Rye, whose legs felt far too weak to hold up such a burden, sat down with a muffled plop upon the deck. “But you know they happened. You know everything that has taken place even if the history that remembers you does not.” 

“Yes Rye, and that is tonight’s lesson, my little pony,” Princess Celestia replied. 

Ears drooping, Rye gave careful consideration to Princess Celestia’s words, trying to piece everything together. It was a lot to take in all at once, perhaps too much. He stared up at the moon, wondering what her mistakes were, what she regretted, what caused her to suffer. Goddess though she might be, she had made mistakes and it was clear that she suffered from them. 

“Little Shetland ponies.” Princess Celestia took a deep breath and then sighed. “Little characters, the lot of them. Little anarchists, troublemakers, saboteurs, little hardy ponies with such a love for life.” The big white mare looked down at Rye. “Had circumstances been different, I might have taken you as one of my students.” 

“I am not a very magical unicorn.” Rye shook his head and he glanced at the alicorn mare beside him. “I would make for a lousy student.” 

“You have other qualities.” Princess Celestia’s fine eyebrow arched. “You have a troublesome cutie mark, the sort of mark that is bound to cause all manner of problems in life, and rather than use it as an excuse to be a very bad pony, you instead do a little soul searching so you can somehow reconcile with it.” 

Rye’s own brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. When he had come into Sable Blanc the first time he had been troubled. And now, coming back to Sable Blanc, he was still troubled. He thought about the prison and the events there. He thought about Byron and wondered if perhaps, he should feel bad about killing him. 

Try as he might, Rye could muster no sympathy. Not after Byron had treated Mousy like meat. Rye realised that he would probably put a bullet right through Starjammer’s skull if he treated Mousy like that. Just thinking about it made Rye tremble. Or if some stranger treated Starjammer like that… 

“It will only get harder,” Princess Celestia said in a low, soft voice filled with regret. “When all of this is said and done, you will be a very troubled pony. No doubt, there will be many sleepless nights for you. My best advice… treasure your friends, Rye Mash. They will help you pass the long, endless hours of the night, something I am entirely too familiar with. Your friends will also tell the most flattering and perhaps the most honest stories about you. These stories will be the grains of truth to be found in the legend that you will one day become.” 

Looking up at the moon, Rye once again wondered what troubled Princess Celestia. In the distance, a foghorn sounded as a thick fog was drifting down from the hills. “Princess?” 

“Yes, Rye, my little Shetland pony?” Princess Celestia replied. 

Blushing, Rye felt his cheeks grow warm. “I’m in the mood for tea. Would you care to join me? I would be honoured to serve you.” 

“Oh, how thoughtful,” Princess Celestia replied. “I would enjoy that a great deal. Thank you, Rye Mash.” Princess Celestia paused and then gave Rye a sly wink. “Here is to hoping that history remembers you as a tea drinker.” 
	
	
> Chapter 40
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	In between sips of tea, Rye Mash divided the plundered wealth stolen from Lord Byron Bitters with the plan to help the rescued slaves get a fresh new start in Sable Blanc. It had been a long night for him, he felt no better, but he kept telling himself that he could make up for what he had done by being generous. 

He had no need for Byron’s stolen wealth, but he did plan to keep the tea set and the tea. Everything else was being divided up so it could be distributed to those who needed it. If he was going to be remembered as a murderous psychopath, he was going to be remembered as a kind, generous murderous psychopath. 

As he worked, he watched Mousy and Woe play checkers. They did not have troubled sleep. Woe had no guilty conscience whatsoever about anything she had done, and had even stated as much. Mousy justified it as evildoers getting what they deserve. A part of Rye envied them, but another part of him pitied them. 

He had grown up with a certain amount of privilege as an indentured servant. He was valuable, and as such, he had been protected. He hadn’t been raised on the savage streets. Woe was a one eyed survivor of Tradewinds and Mousy… Mousy hadn’t said too much about her past just yet, but she was a hard one. She had her own moral code that she followed, and she had no issue with the deserving getting what was coming to them. 

But who was to say what somepony else deserved? 

As Rye took a sip of tea, Captain Spyglass sat down at the table across from Rye and it was obvious that his captain looked a little irritated. Rye lowered his teacup to the table, leaned forwards, and did his best to look attentive. 

“Determining your wealth?” Spyglass asked. 

“I plan to give this away to those we rescued,” Rye replied. 

The pegasus looked a little surprised and his ears stood up straight. “This would give a pony a good fresh start.” Spyglass’s ears leaned forwards a bit. “I am proud of you for what you did and what you are doing. I’ll admit, I was a little frustrated when I had first heard about what you had done, rescuing ponies was not part of the plan, but everything is working out.” 

Rye nodded, lifted up his teacup, emptied it, and then set it down. 

“We’ll be departing soon and heading back to Tradewinds. There are things we’ll need to take care of before we head east into the Forgotten Wastes.” Captain Spyglass’ face contorted with worry. “We’ll have to deal with dragons and I’m not sure how we’ll broker safe passage just yet. Princess Celestia also wants us to hurry east now. She is heading back to Equestria soon. She said that she is working on a means of communication so she can stay in touch with us.” 

Again, Rye nodded to acknowledge that he heard his captain. 

“Rye, I’ve already talked with Bloody Velvet and I wanted to talk to you before I made any decisions. I’ve been in contact with the Broker and a few others. Rye… I’m thinking about selling off The Whalefish and The Apogee, purchasing a new, modern ship, and then letting most of the crew go. They didn’t sign on for this and it is not fair to them to pressgang them into something this dangerous. We still have a considerable bit of wealth to help us purchase a new vessel.” 

“I am assuming there is a new ship in Tradewinds?” Rye asked. He watched Spyglass give a slow nod and Rye felt a twinge of sadness. He liked The Apogee. 

“The shipbuilders in Tradewinds are dying to get their hooves on the latest in modern design. The Apogee is a technological marvel. We can get a good deal.” Spyglass slumped down in his chair. “I shall miss The Whalefish as I have grown quite fond of it. It is not my first ship, but she was a good, serviceable vessel.” 

“Will there be enough of a crew to manage everything?” Rye asked. 

“Starjammer knows a surprising amount about engines and the maintenance of an airship. I cannot get any information out of him as to how or why he knows.” A momentary look of irritation passed over Spyglass’ face. “He is also more than capable of loading a dozen cannons all at once and then firing them. His magic is powerful.” The pegasus heaved a sigh. “Rye, I’d rather not put any more lives at risk than I absolutely have to. We’re going into considerable danger. While my crew is a hard lot, most of them are sailors, not soldiers.” 

“At least we have a surgeon,” Rye Mash said as he began to wipe his teacup out with a soft, clean cloth. His magic was a little shaky, but he was managing. “When do you want to leave?” 

“I plan to let much of the crew go here in Sable Blanc. This is a safe city for them. We’ll fly with a skeleton crew to Tradewinds, trade the two ships for a new zebra fighting ship, and then we shall head east.” Spyglass leaned forwards. “That is, if you are agreeable to this plan, Rye Mash.” 

“My lot is with you, Captain Spyglass. For better or for worse, I will follow you.” 

“I thought so,” Spyglass replied. “Rye Mash, you are no longer my cabin colt. I am promoting you to Master Gunner. You will be my new pony at arms. Speak with Bloody Velvet, she will fill you in and let you know what your new duties are.” 

“But we need a cabin colt.” Rye grinned, feeling happy. 

“Oh, I have somepony in mind. A filly actually. Woe is going to be my new cabin filly. Bloody seems to think that some responsibility will be good for her.” Spyglass cleared his throat. “I understand that she set others on fire during the last engagement.” 

“She throws rocks too,” Rye replied, his grin vanishing. “Woe Betide will do a fine job, I think.” Rye paused and in a low voice, he asked his captain, “Do you plan to keep Oola? I have grown fond of her.” 

“I have spoken with Oola Roo. She plans to stay with us. Starjammer has been showing her how to clean and load the cannons and other tasks. She’s strong, Rye, real strong. She’s earth pony strong. We are fortunate to have her. She is also quite loyal to you for saving her.” Captain Spyglass sat up straight and a weary sigh escaped his lips. “There is much to do and I must be going.” 



 

Bloody Velvet’s lip curled back from her teeth as she looked at her apprentice, Woe Betide. She took a deep breath and made ready to let Woe have it, but in a low whisper so she wouldn’t wake Rye, who was sleeping on a sofa. “Woe… stop that… he’s finally asleep. Now stop trying to light his farts on fire, everything will backdraft and you’ll set his tail ablaze.” 

Giggling, Woe Betide took off at a loping run and fled from Bloody Velvet’s scathing glare of disapproval. In mere moments, Woe was gone, leaving Bloody to fume all alone. Bloody Velvet, shaking her head, thought about how Woe just wasn’t right in the head, and as she did so, she covered Rye with a heavy, coarse woollen blanket. 

She felt bad for Rye and his tender conscience. Bloody Velvet’s own conscience had met an untimely end years ago, it was drug out and summarily executed. Woe had the cold bloodedness that only the very young who had never learned right or wrong could have. Starjammer… the less said about Starjammer the better. Starjammer had fled and gone abroad for good reason. Out of the whole murderous crew, Rye still had some shred of innocence and Bloody Velvet hoped that it would survive somehow, even though she knew the odds were against it. 

She looked around the room to make sure she was alone, and after seeing that she was in fact, all alone, she lowered her head so she could give Rye an affectionate kiss with the hopes that a little love might help him sleep better. 



 

Lifting his head from his now immaculate wing, Skeeter, who had been preening himself in the midmorning sun, had himself a good long look at Prism Gem, the one winged pegasus. He did not find himself repulsed by the fact that she had one wing, and by the same token, he hoped that she did not find his face hideous. 

It was, however, difficult to talk to a one winged pegasus. How did one exchange social pleasantries? A wingspan display seemed inappropriate and a bit rude, as did fluffing out one’s plumage to show interest. It might be taken wrong or might make Prism Gem miss what she had once had. 

She had the most marvellous rainbow coloured mane and tail, which caused Skeeter to think about all sorts of things, chief among them was little sky blue foals with rainbow manes and tails. Being a pegasus, there was no point in beating around the cloud, there was only getting right down to business. With his messed up face and her missing wing, they might not be able to strut their stuff and put on dazzling displays, but Skeeter suspected that they would have fantastic looking offspring that would cause no end of envy in all those who looked upon them. 

But there was one little issue, one dreadful, horrible little issue, and that was getting to know Prism Gem. Skeeter, for all of his charms, didn’t know how to approach her. He watched with keen interest as she preened her own remaining wing while soaking up the sun. 

He decided to talk to her. Talking to her would have to be a good start. He couldn’t do a plumage display, he couldn’t strut up to her with his wings spread to invite her to check out his wingspan, (and oh goody, he had himself a wingspan and you know what that means on a stallion, wink wink,  nudge nudge) and all of the usual ways of getting a filly pegasus’ attention seemed out. 

Keeping his wings at his sides, Skeeter puffed out his barrel and fluffed out his chest scruffle, an act of invitation to let a receptive female know that it was okay to come along and bury her muzzle in said chest scruffle. He hiked up his tail a bit and did everything he could to make himself look bigger, everything but flaring out his wings or fluffing his feathers. 

He let out a snort to show that he had powerful lungs, the sort of big, oversized and powerful lungs one needed for flight. He tossed his head to get his mane out of his eyes and then, Skeeter strutted, ruined face or no. 

Much to his relief and to his pleasure as well, Prism Gem took notice. He saw her one wing fluttering at her side. Her ears pinned back for a moment and then perked to stand up straight. So far, everything was going well. Skeeter took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t screw up something as simple as talking. 

“So… you have special blood?” Skeeter asked, going with the only thing he could think of. He watched Prism with eager anticipation, hoping that she would continue to show interest. 

“It seems I do,” Prism Gem replied. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “Doctor Lapin was trying to figure out the mystery of blood. He was using the slaves to try and figure out why sometimes blood transfusions worked and why sometimes, they didn’t.” 

“I see.” Skeeter’s interest was genuine. He moved a little and his wingpits felt hot and sweaty. His body posture shifted from one of dominance to one of curiousity and his ears splayed out sideways as his head cocked off to one side. 

“Through trial and error, he discovered that my blood can go into any other pony and not cause them to become sick and weak. He started studying it beneath a microscope and doing tests and he hopes to understand the hows and the whys of everything so he can save lives.” Prism Gem raised her eyebrow and took a little step closer to Skeeter. 

“Does it bother you that he was experimenting on slaves?” Skeeter asked. 

Prism Gem’s face showed anger for a moment, but then her expression softened. “It did. But then I saw that his work was worthy… his work could save all kinds of lives in the future. He has this idea about blood types, Skeeter. Certain creatures have certain blood types and if you match them, they’ll be fine and they can share blood. Other blood types are incompatible. Some very special ponies have blood types that go with any other type.” 

“Like you,” Skeeter replied as he lowered his haunches down to the deck and sat down. Much to his delight, Prism Gem was eyeing his inviting chest scruffle. “You sound smart.” 

The pegasus filly blushed, her pink face becoming a good bit pinker. She stood, eyes blinking, and her remaining wing flapped against her side. “I am smart,” she said in a coy whisper, “when I was younger, I was schooled to read and write.” She turned her body and pointed at her cutie mark, which was a notebook and a pen. “I’m quite good at taking dictation. Thankfully, the wing I have left is my writing wing. Doctor Lapin finds my talent invaluable.” 

“I like smart fillies,” Skeeter said, being as direct as possible. There was, after all, no point in beating around the cloud. He saw Prism turn pink once more and her ears rose and fell as she became flustered. “Dumb fillies, you have to put something in their mouth to keep them occupied, but you…”—Skeeter gave Prism his most alluring smile—“I could listen to you talk all day. You might have to put something in my mouth to keep me busy.” 

There was a sharp gasp from Prism when she heard Skeeter’s bold statement. Her wing extended from her side and she began to fan herself. Her hooves tapped upon the wooden deck and she gave Skeeter a nervous smile. 

“You don’t seem too stupid,” Prism said in a low voice that was a little husky. “Do… do you want to know more about Doctor Lapin’s work?” 

Skeeter nodded. “Like I said, I could listen to you talk all day…”