It was supposed to be a routine visit to Ponyville-- But, as always, things soon take a turn for the worse as Flash Sentry finds himself facing stunning news-- as well as a brand new mission.
It was supposed to be a routine visit to Ponyville-- as if there's anything such as 'routine' for Lieutenant Flash Sentry (HERO OF EQUESTRIA). But, as always, things soon take a turn for the worse as Sentry finds himself facing stunning news-- as well as yet another ridiculously dangerous mission in a strange and exotic land. Only this time, how will he fare without the help of Special Agent Golden Harvest?
Of Princess Twilight Sparkle's accomplishments (of which there are many), perhaps her most impressive, most enduring legacy will be her School of Friendship. It is an institution that has endured to this day, teaching class after class of young ponies (amongst other species) the literal Magic of Friendship. I should also note, in the interest of full disclosure, that I myself attended Princess Twilight's school as a young colt.
Given the school's importance in Equestrian history, it comes as no surprise that Flash Sentry set hoof inside its hallowed halls (however unwillingly). It's this connection that initially drew me to this particular episode of Flash Sentry's memoirs. As usual, Sentry provides a fascinating view into everyday life of the era, albeit with his particularly ... candid tone. Such a perspective is invaluable to students of history, and as always is my primary reason for publishing Sentry's memoirs. Any insights into Sentry's personal life are, of course, entirely coincidental. One must, of course, regard history with a detached sense of objectivity.
As always, I will provide additional commentary and clarification in the footnotes as needed.
What may come off as an innocuous statement from one pony can be absolutely terrifying from another. Case in point: nearly anything Carrot Top (a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest) has ever said to me. But, for all the many, many times that mare has nearly killed me, directly or indirectly, none of those were so harrowing as a single question she once asked me over breakfast.
“Sentry, how good are you with children?”
I choked down a mouthful of coffee somehow without drowning myself, and forced a wan grin. “I haven't thought about it very much.” I said, quite truthfully. Meanwhile, I immediately started running through my schedule from the last month or two, cross-referencing it with Carrot Top's moods and dietary choices. Over the years, I've blundered my way through the most miserable and dangerous environs Equestria (along with several neighboring countries besides) has to offer. It was almost novel, then, to feel my heart seize up while I was in my own humble Canterlot apartment.
“I'm not surprised.” Carrot Top said with a bemused grin. She put her hoof on my kitchen table and slid an opened envelope to me. “Here.”
“You opened my mail? Isn't that illegal?”
Carrot Top arched one brow, and took a deliberate sip of her coffee.
“Point.” I said, and picked up the letter.
Dear Flash Sentry,
Once again, I'd like to thank you for all your loyal service-- not to me, but to all of Equestria. After seeing your bravery and resourcefulness myself,* I knew you were the genuine article. Thankfully, I am not writing in regards to your martial talents, but rather to the strength of your character.
As I'm sure you're aware, I've recently started a School of Friendship here in Ponyville. As much as I'd love to have you as part of the faculty, I know your duties in the Royal Guard make a tenured position impossible. Still, we are having our first ever Friendship Festival soon, and I would like to humbly request your presence as a guest speaker. I know my students could learn a lot about bravery and loyalty from a pony like you.
Your friend,
Twilight Sparkle
P.S. While I know you would be happy to help no matter what the circumstances, I feel the need to compensate you for your time, and as such, I will be happy to provide a small travel stipend for your trouble. I might as well get some use out of this whole 'Princess' thing, right?
“Bloody hell.” I let out a relieved laugh, and slumped back into my chair. “She's got a school now?”
“It was all over the papers about six weeks back. Haven't you been keeping up with current events?”
“I think we both know the answer to that question.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose.
“So you're going?” Carrot Top said.
*See: Octavia's Eleven
“Of course I am. You know how it works-- a Princess 'requests,' and the rest of Equestria obeys.” I downed the last of my coffee, and set my empty mug on the kitchen table. “Could be worse, I suppose-- Princess Twilight could start going on about a 'friendship mission' or somesuch and the next thing you know some irate dragon would be trying to eat me.”
“Come off it, Sentry.” Carrot Top said with a typically bemused grin. “This is an easy assignment, and you know it. All you've got to do is show up and look impressive. It won't be any different than a high society soiree.”
“It will be different.” I grumbled. “It's a school. Why, I bet Princess Twilight hasn't got a dram of liquor in the whole damn building.”
“Relax, Sentry. It won't be all bad.” Carrot Top said.
“Oh, I'm sure it'll be worse. “ I groaned. “I don't know how, but I'm sure it'll be worse.”
“You've just got to be an optimist about this sort of thing.” Carrot Top said with a little shrug that highlighted the firm, subtle musculature of her shoulder. She tossed her frizzy mane back, and favored me with a saucy wink. “While we're in Ponyville, we can stay at my place.”
“When you put it that way, I suppose it doesn't seem so bad.” I said. Still, I shook my head, and held up an indignant hoof. “But, if Ponyville gets invaded by some horrible mostrosity-- again –we're catching the first train out of town. Princess Twilight and her friends can handle themselves.” And then, a pause, as a terrible, terrible realization struck me. “Can't they?”
“They usually do.”
It all started innocuously enough-- which should have been my first cue to run. Then again, that's hindsight for you. Still, for better or worse, Carrot Top and I were soon comfortably ensconced in a sleeper car on its way to Ponyville. First class, of course; Princess Twilight had provided a generous travel stipend, and it would've been impolite not to make full use of it. And so, I sipped top-shelf brandy and watched the countryside roll by. Carrot Top leaned against my side and read the newspaper., occasionally stealing sips of brandy between articles. Outside the window, the bottom edge of the sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing the forests and farmland outside in a rosy, warm glow.
Even now, all these years later, I look back on those few hours as one of my fondest memories. Just two ponies on a train, each silently enjoying the presence of the other. No missions, no monsters, no murders.
All of that would come later.
The train chugged into Ponyville Station ahead of schedule, announcing itself with a squealing of brakes and a venting of steam. Carrot Top set her paper aside, leaning past me to peer out the window with a spy's professional paranoia.
“What are you worried about?” I said, even as I leaned back against my seat to give Carrot Top a better view. “Don't you live here?”
“Princess Twilight's waiting for you.” Carrot Top said. And, sure enough, the Purple Princess of Friendship stood at the station, waiting for yours truly. She tapped me gently (at least by her standards, which means she didn't break anything) on the shoulder. “It's probably for the best if the Princess doesn't see the two of us, ah ... together. Cover stories, and all that.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” I said, even though Carrot's tone was nothing but professional (which, honestly, was far worse).
“Hardly.” Carrot Top shook her head, neatly folding her newspaper and laying it to the side. “It's ... just been a long trip, that's all. Be careful, Sentry. Try not to burn Princess Twilight's school down.”
“I make no promises.”
“I knew you'd say that.” Carrot Top leaned in for a gentle, fleeting kiss-- and before I could so much as reciprocate, she had slipped out of our cabin. I followed, only a few steps behind, but by the time I stuck my head out into the hallway, Carrot Top had disappeared into the bustling stream of disembarking passengers.
I ducked back into the cabin, taking a moment to finish my brandy and smooth out a few wrinkles in my dress uniform. This done, I braved the crowd. A few shoves and insincere apologies later, I exited the train, glad for the chance to stretch my wings out.
“Flash! There you are!” Princess Twilight Sparkle waved one hoof at me, all nervous, girlish enthusiasm. If one could look past the combined horn and wings, she could've passed herself off as any other Ponyville bumpkin. “I'm glad you made it!”
“I'm glad to be here.” I said, and sketched a gallant bow.
“So, um-- there may have been a sliiiiight mix up in scheduling. Nothing major! But ... um, I don't suppose you'd mind giving your speech a little early?”
I blinked. “Just ... how early, exactly?”
“As soon as we get back to the school?” Princess Twilight said with an embarrassed grin. “I don't mean to impose, but we've run into a ... few snags, that's all. Rainbow Dash waited 'til the last minute to get the right clouds into place for her stunt flying demonstration, and then Fluttershy had that problem with the basket full of weasels, and long story short is we need somepony to talk to the students to fill in the gap in the schedule. Which is fine because I know you're a responsible pony and you've already used all that time you had on the train ride over to write your speech out on little notecards, haven't you?”
The corner of Princess Twilight's eye began to twitch.
“Of course.” I lied with a charming smile.
“Great! Then there's no time to waste!” And before I could squeal in terror, Princess Twilight's horn glowed-- then flashed –and once again I felt the none-too-pleasant sensation of being magically teleported from one place to another without crossing the distance between. The light faded, and I fought down the urge to puke. Once my head stopped spinning, I managed to register my surroundings: a small, curtained-off room with green-painted walls.
Princess Twilight peeked through a gap in the curtains, and then nodded to herself. “We're just in time-- c'mon!” And then she pressed on, leaving me no option but to follow, seeing as of how I had no idea where I was.
Blazing, blinding spotlights greeted me as soon as I walked past the curtain, and onto the stage. I squinted against the harsh light, and peered out at the packed auditorium, with a good hundred or so young, eager faces looking down at me. Twilight trotted over to the podium at the center of the stage, and immediately launched into a lengthy (and unknowingly fraudulent) listing of my so-called accomplishments and virtues and the like. Her praises and accolades echoed through the auditorium, amplified by the little microphone that arched above the podium like a tiny fishing rod.
On the one hoof, it was entirely gratifying to see my overinflated reputation being promulgated by the likes of the Princess of Friendship herself. On the other hoof, it didn't look like I was going to score any free drinks out of it.
“--which is why I'm proud to introduce Lieutenant Flash Sentry!” Princess Twilight swept a hoof over my way, and I took my cue to trot up to the podium as heroically as I could manage. I set my front hooves on the lectern, waiting a second for the polite applause to die down.
“Ahem.” I cleared my suddenly-dry throat, causing the microphone to squeal in protest. I winced, leaned a little away, and tried again. “Hello?”
Somepony at the back of the room coughed.
“Ah, right then.” I said. “As Princess Twilight so kindly told you, my name is Flash Sentry. It seems like, not so long ago, I was in your position. Well, not your exact position, given this school didn't exist when I was a lad, but ... you get the idea. The gist of it is, I remember being corralled into assemblies like this one, in which somepony with a resume as long as your tail would go on about how you could be just like them, with enough hard work. But-- let me tell you this, children-- I hope you never, never grow up to be like me.”
I heard Princess Twilight's gasp from the side of the stage, and took it as a good sign. Before she could cut my microphone, I continued. “I don't like talking about what I've done to earn these medals--” I puffed out my chest a bit, letting the light glint from the ribbons pinned to my dress uniform. “But I will say that each and every one of them was earned through my own sweat, my own blood ... and my own love of Equestria. I never set out to become a 'Hero of Equestria,' as the saying goes-- rather, I'm just a simple soldier, doing his job. Doing a job that, with any luck, none of you will have to do in the future, as you go on to make the world a better, brighter place. In the meanwhile, though, I'll still be out there, standing between you and the sort of thing that would make your blood run cold. So keep studying, and keep working for a better future, and hopefully you'll never have to worry about an angry dragon trying to take a bite out of your--”
“Uh, thank you, Lieutenant Sentry.” Princess Twilight trotted over, at which point she gently but firmly pushed me away from the microphone, lest I start terrorizing her students even further. “That was a very ... unique speech.” She said with a forced, polite smile.
“I'm glad you liked it.” I said, offering a guileless grin.
“Anyway!” Princess Twilight turned back to the microphone. “Class, if you have any questions, you can ask Lieutenant Sentry during the friendship reception in the cafeteria. Don't dawdle, everypony! We've got a schedule to keep!”
And with that, Princess Twilight bustled me off to the reception-- thankfully not bothering with the teleport, this time. As for the cafeteria itself, it certainly didn't look like one. It reminded me more of a decent (or at least pretentious) restaurant than anything; nary a hairnet or scoop of green slop in sight. Nary a dram of alcohol, either.
The place at least had the chaos of a proper cafeteria, as Princess Twilight's students gossiped and galloped from one end of the room to the other with that nigh-infinite energy of the young and optimistic. It wasn't just ponies, either-- I spotted a griffin, a yak, and even a tiny dragon (well, two, if you count Princess Twilight's secretary). It took me a moment to realize why they were there-- but once I did, I couldn't help but look at Princess Twilight in a new light. To think, the literal Princess of Friendship, taking political hostages? I wondered if I'd somehow been a bad influence.*
*Here, Sentry puts forth a somewhat common (if inaccurate) view of Princess Twilight's School of Friendship. In truth, the non-pony students Sentry mentions were exchange students, not hostages. The ultimate confusion for such a matter comes from the fact that friendship is not a phenomenon exclusive to ponykind. causing certain cynical historians to argue the inclusion of non-pony students (who were in turn related to various figures of note-- most notably King Thorax of the Changelings) was a political decision, rather than an educational one.
The key difference, it's worth noting, is between friendship, and friendship magic. The latter, of course, is Princess Twilight's particular specialty, and her willingness to share said magic with any and all creatures of the world is just proof of Princess Twilight's benevolence, even in her younger years.
I sipped my punch (sadly unspiked), ate my cake, and otherwise kept out of the way-- Princess Twilight had her hooves full trying to keep her students from tearing the place apart, which left me free to lurk at the periphery.
“Mister Sentry?” A tiny, quavery voice said from somewhere behind me. I turned-- and nearly bolted, then and there. As there was a changeling, of all creatures-- a bug-eyed, beetle-winged thing with the sort of bright coloration that's indicative of deadly venom.
Somehow, I kept myself from bolting out the nearest window, and reminded myself that we were supposedly allies with the bugs (in no small part due to my own efforts).* Even still, looking at a juvenile changeling made it somehow uglier, and had me fearing it was going to try to latch onto my face and start shooting acid down my throat.
*See: Sentry at the Charge.
“Er, yes?” I managed through a close-lipped smile.
“My name's Ocellus.” She (I at leased assumed it was a she, given her voice) buzzed her wings in what I hoped was just a nervous gesture in changelings. “King Thorax told me a lot about you.”
“Did he?” I said.
“And, um ... I just wanted to thank you for saving our hive from the gnolls.”
“Oh.” I said. “Er, you're welcome? But really, there's no need to thank me--” Especially since I would've let the whole damn place burn if it weren't for some very extenuating circumstances. But then again, even I'm not enough of a bastard to tell a child 'well kiddo, I've made a career of killing your family, so try not to invade Equestria or else I may have to dismember you.'
“But there is!” Ocellus said, and threw herself at me, wrapping her little insectoid legs around one of my hooves in a hug. I didn't shriek, but it was a close thing. “And if you've helped other ponies out as much as you've helped the Changelings, there's no way anypony can thank you for all the hard work you've done.”
“I ... didn't do it for the thanks.” I said, and waggled my leg to dislodge Ocellus, if in vain. “I was just doing my job, that's all.”
“That's what I like about you, Flash.” Princess Twilight stepped up behind me, smiling and bearing a crystal cup full of punch. “No matter how much you've done, you're always so humble about it. I see you're making friends, though.”
“Er, friends. Yes.” I said, shifting awkwardly on three hooves, while the fourth still had a changeling clinging to it.
“You can let him go now, Ocellus.” Princess Twilight said in a matronly, teacher-worthy voice.
“Oh! I'm sorry!” The bug-girl released my hoof, and dropped down to the ground again in a flutter of wings. “I didn't mean to--”
“I know. It's sometimes easy to get ... carried away when you're with somepony. Isn't that right, Flash?” And, so help me, Princess Twilight winked. From a regular mare, it'd be flattering, but from a princess, it was enough to start setting alarms off at the back of my head.
“It ... happens from time to time.” I said, and then-- for lack of a better idea, I feigned a stretch and a yawn. “Mmmf. Excuse me, ladies. It's ... been something of a long day. As much as I'd love to stick around for the festivities, I'd better be going.”
“So soon?” Princess Twilight said.
“Er, well-- I have been awake since before sunrise. Royal Guard business, you know.”
“Oh! Right.” Princess Twilight said, and then paused. “Where are you staying, anyway? I can have Spike prepare the guest room--”
“No need!” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. “You've been a wonderful host so far, and I'd hate to impose further. I've, er, already made some arrangements with a ... friend of mine.”
“Are you sure?” Princess Twilight took a half-step forward. She no doubt would've gone further, but her little purple dragon assistant came trundling up. Between the scroll in his hand and the concerned look on his face, the whole thing stank of Official Princess Business, which I, of course, wanted nothing to do with.
“Good night, Princess. Thanks again for your hospitality.” I gave another quick bow, and then slipped out as quickly as politeness allowed. Princess Twilight waved to me even as she stuck her nose into the scroll, leaving me to make my escape.
Once I was out of the school, it was a short glide over to Carrot Top's house: a cozy, two-story cottage along Ponyville's main street. Humble as it was, the sight of the house was enough to brighten my spirits. I'd pretended to be responsible for far, far too long-- and I figured I'd earned myself a pleasant drink. Carrot would have cider in her liquor cabinet, at the very least. Or, she might have picked something up while I was out and about-- provided Carrot Top hadn't been suddenly attacked by ninjas or something.
The front door was unlocked, which wasn't surprising, given how peaceful Ponyville was (between monster attacks, at least). I barged right in-- and nearly tripped over a footstool, dark as it was. I grit my teeth and rubbed at my shin.
“You know, you could've at least lit some candles. Mood lighting.” I said, glancing around.
Silence.
“Carrot Top?” I said. “Hello?”
Nothing.
I fumbled around in the dark until I found a cord dangling from the ceiling, and gave it a gentle yank. Immediately, a lamp set in the ceiling flicked to life, revealing the utterly normal looking interior of Carrot Top's abode. What caught my eye, however, was the pristine white envelope resting on the kitchen table. And, just to show it wasn't junk mail, there was a single word written on the paper.
Sentry.
I unfolded the letter.
I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed what we had. But we both knew this couldn't last-- to pretend otherwise would be dangerously naive. I wish I could have told you this face to face, but maybe, in the end, I'm the cowardly one. I don't have much time, so I'll make it simple:
I'm leaving you, Sentry. It'll be better for the both of us.
Don't look for me.
-Carrot Top.
The kitchen chair creaked under my weight as I sat down. I read the letter two, three times-- looking for some clue, some hidden code, some chance that this was all part of some convoluted, cloak and dagger plot on Carrot Top's part. There wasn't anything to find, of course. As best I could tell the letter was genuine: it even had a thin strand of kinked orange hair stuck to the back.
Once I decided on the letter's veracity, I pulled in an unsteady, shuddering breath. There was no time to sit there and blubber away like some broken-hearted teenager. No, there was only one thing to do:
I decamped to the only tavern in all of Ponyville: a rustic little establishment, much like nearly every other business in town. It was a quiet night, which meant the purple mare slinging drinks was forced to listen to my ongoing monologue as I pounded down ciders. Poor sod.
“She was the only mare who loved me for who I really am.” I said with a self-pitying sniffle. “And what I really am is a terrible pony, who has done terrible things.” It probably says something about the potency of Ponyville cider that it was enough to wring honesty out of even a lout like me.
Wordlessly, the purple pony poured me another tankard.
“But that's the rub, isn't it? I'm terrible ... so wouldn't that make her terrible for putting up with me? Guilt by association, and all that. Which ... means I'm better off without her.” I nodded to myself, allowing my dejection to morph into celebration. “Why, this could be the best thing that's ever happened to me! Yes-- this is quite the opportunity to move on to a new stage in my life. Why, I'vjust got to be optimistic, that's all.” To fuel this optimism, I took a pull from my tankard, then wiped the foam from my upper lip with my free hoof. “It's like the saying goes-- the best way to get over somepony is to get under somepony else.”
The mare behind the bar arched a brow. She was pretty enough, in that solid, earth-pony kind of way. She had some fruit and a bunch of grapes for a cutie mark, which invited the mind to wonder about sinking one's teeth into her round derriere. Still, I knew I'd have to look elsewhere for a proper romp; she'd listened to my mewling for at least half a dozen ciders, which put me in a most unflattering light. No, I realized, I'd have to find some pretty young pony who would be properly smitten by the legend of Lieutenant Flash Sentry, Hero of Equestria. And, of course, I knew exactly where to look.
With that, I finished my cider, paid my tab, and then set out for Princess Twilight's castle.
Had I just a few drinks fewer, I would've rightly realized this to be a terrible idea.
Had I just a few drinks more, I would've been too foxed to do much of anything besides pass out in a gutter somewhere.
But there I was, balanced at that precise state of intoxication to get into the maximum amount of trouble. I can't help but find this to be something of a metaphor for my life in general.
One would think the seduction of a princess would be a daunting task, but it wasn't as if I hadn't done it before. Kind of.* But even without that, one look at Princess Twilight Sparkle's Castle of Friendship told me everything I needed to know about wooing her.
You see, Princess Twilight had a balcony.
*See: Octavia's Eleven.
If you, dear reader, aren't as much of a ladies' colt as I am (and you're probably not), let me tell you something about romance. A balcony is basically an architectural invitation to an assignation. It's baked into our culture, to the point where every hack writer that wants to start pulling at your heartstrings will plunk the heroine down on a balcony, and, sure enough, the heroine's love interest will come a-calling to sweep her off her hooves. Every time a young filly sees this in a story or a play or whatever, her yearning for this to happen to her will grow, until that little filly becomes a fully grown mare with her own house with its own balcony that just coincidentally is connected to her bedroom, and there you go.
As everypony knows, Princess Twilight Sparkle read a lot of books.
I circled around the tree-shaped castle first, doing my proper reconnaissance. It wouldn't do to wake Princess Twilight unexpectedly, after all. Thankfully, she was still awake, hunched over her writing desk in the corner. Probably scribbling out a journal entry, I imagined. I resolved to give her something to really write about.
With a showboating splay of my wings, I swooped down to alight on Princess Twilight's balcony. She didn't notice me at first, still poring over some letters on her desk. Even still, I couldn't help but admire the way her wings folded neatly against her back. That's what I'd been missing, spending all that time with an earth pony. Oh sure, Carrot Top was rather attractive, in a dangerous sort of way, but she didn't have any plumage. There's something to be said for a big set of wings on a pegasus mare. Or a princess, for that matter. That'd show Carrot Top-- Royal Consort Sentry certainly had a ring to it, after all.
But I was getting ahead of myself.
Princess Twilight kept working away-- that is, until I rapped gently upon her window and cleared my throat. The princess jerked her head up in surprise, turning to look my way. “Flash?” she said, voice slightly muffled by the glass.
“May I come in?” I said with a charming smile and gallant bow.
“Oh! Of course.” Princess Twilight said, and showed me in. “This is quite a surprise--”
“I couldn't sleep.” I said. “So I went out for a quick jaunt-- and when I saw you were still up, I thought I'd drop by for a ... friendly chat.”
“Oh.” Princess Twilight said, cheeks tinting in a rather fetching blush. She was beautiful-- but paradoxically so. The she had the demure innocence of a young schoolteacher, and the regally perfect body of a capital-P Princess. A pair of glasses or a golden tiara would have been equally enticing accessories-- though both at the same time would have been a bit much. “I wasn't expecting you, but I'm glad you came. But ... “ She bit her lower lip, looked away. Oh, this was going to be easy. “I need to tell you something, Flash.”
“By all means.”
“When I invited you to speak at my school, I had ... um ... other, intentions.”
“You did?” I feigned subtle shock, and fought down the urge to smile. Why this was going to be easier than I thought.
“I need you, Flash.” Princess Twilight blinked, and immediately launched into an avalanche of clarification. “I mean! Uh-- I need a pony like you, Flash. Er-- wait, no, that sounded worse-- what I meant to say is ... I need your help.”
“You do?” Even in my booze-addled state, I realized the trap-- one that I could hardly bolt out of, either.
“After that trip to Spitespire, I ... I read your file.”
“You did?” My voice may have cracked, if only a little.
“For purely professional reasons!” Princess Twilight blurted. “Not like I'm stalking you or anything. It's just, um. Research, you know? Just ... research on ... you.”
“I'm flattered. I think.”
“You should be.” Princess Twilight nodded, proud of me for some inexplicable reason. “Your service record is exemplary. You're brave. You're clever. And ... maybe most importantly, you're discreet.”
“Er--” I tried to think of something, anything to say to weasel out of it, but Princess Twilight held up a hoof.
“I know you've done work for the Equestrian Intelligence Office. A lot of it. Which is why I asked you to come to Ponyville, Flash.”
“Oh.” I said, even as my guts started turning over each other in an attempt to escape. “What ... what seems to be the matter?”
“I have a friend, Flash.”
“More than one, I hope.” I blurted.
Terrible as my joke was, Princess Twilight still laughed-- quite the pleasant sound, really. I would've enjoyed it more if she weren't about to send me into the (perhaps literal) jaws of certain peril. “That's true, but this friend ... she's different. Our relationship is kind of ... uh, complicated, I guess? And some of my other friends are still just a little bit suspicious of her-- they're just scared, really – not that I can blame them after everything that happened.”
“So, uh ... what's the problem?”
“My friend has been traveling the world, keeping in touch with me via letter ... until recently. I started making a few subtle inquiries about it-- and I only got a letter confirming my fears an hour ago: my friend's gone missing. Which could mean that something terrible has happened to her ... or it could mean that she turned evil again. I wish I could go look for her myself, but I just can't. I mean, I'm fairly certain my School of Friendship could run without me, but-- and this is a big but –if my friend really did turn evil, and somepony like Chancellor Neighsay found out ... accreditation or no, he'd find a way to close my school. And maybe he'd be right.” Princess Twilight sniffled.
Of the many (too many) dangers I've faced, one of the most terrifying is the sight of a crying Princess. Because when she's staring at you, her eyes wide and teary, even a craven cad like me is inclined to do something, anything, in order to make it stop. No matter how invariably, inexorably stupid that anything is.
“What can I do to help?” I damned myself.
Princess Twilight brightened, ears perking up. “I knew I could count on you, Flash!” She promptly launched herself at me, pulling me into a surprisingly tight hug. While such closeness was the exact thing I'd been angling for mere minutes before, the all too familiar sense of impending doom shut down my libido as surely as a bucket of icy water. “This should be easy for a pony of your qualifications-- I've already assembled a dossier on my friend's last known location. From there, all you need to do is track her down and help her out of whatever trouble she's gotten into ... or, if she really has turned evil, and was never my friend to begin with ... then you've got to stop her.”
“Right.” I wheezed as Princess Twilight squeezed the breath from my lungs. “One question, though.”
“Hm?” Princess Twilight let me go and leaned back to look me in the eye.
“Just because Tempest Shadow conquered Canterlot doesn't mean she's a bad pony.” Princess Twilight said.
“Of course not.” I said. I'd slept through the first half of the Storm King's invasion, and spent the second in varying states of flight and/or terror, but that's another story altogether. Even still, Tempest Shadow sounded like exactly the sort of pony that I wanted nothing to do with.
“Which means there has to be a good reason Tempest Shadow hasn't written back to me.” Princess Twilight nodded, speaking more to convince herself than me. “According to my contacts, Tempest Shadow was last seen headed for Cowloon. Have you ever been there, Flash?”
“I can't say so, no.”
“Not surprising. It's practically on the other side of the world, a little island just off the southern coast of Minotauria. The funny thing is, it's arguably an Equestrian colony-- or, well, arguably not, depending on who you ask.*” Princess Twilight lapsed into an academic, lecturing tone.
*To this day, Cowloon has been the subject of a contentious border dispute between Minotauria and Equestria. Namely, both nations claim the island city of Cowloon belongs to the other. As a result, Cowloon remains a vaguely autonomous (or possibly just anarchic) city-state. Given the lack of direct governance, Cowloon has long been a haven for 'independent traders' of varying degrees of legitimacy.
“From what I've read, Cowloon can be a little ... rough. Hopefully this should help.” Princess Twilight levitated a set of plain saddlebags out of her closet, then draped the surprisingly heavy luggage over my back. “I'm not going to say this is everything you could need on your trip, but it's a start. There should be enough bits in there to cover your expenses-- for a little while, at least. I'll be more than happy to reimburse anything further so long as you bring back the receipts. But on top of that, I've packed binoculars, rope, a first aid kit, matches-- standard kit, as my brother would say. Oh! And there's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the bottom, in case you get hungry. Hope you like raspberry. You do like raspberry, don't you?”
“I'm sure it'll be delicious.” I said.
“Good! I wish there was more I could do-- like, if I thought ahead, I would've come up with some spy gadgets or something just like in all those Ian Fresian*books, but I just didn't have the time.”
While largely unknown today, Ian Fresian was a popular author of espionage fiction in Sentry's time. Some of his most popular works include “From Equestria, With Love,” and “Dr. Neigh.” For full disclosure, I should note that Ian Fresian is a distant relation of mine, on my father's side. It should also be noted that I haven't inherited any of my great-great-great grand-uncle's penchant for fiction, as my talents run more toward the academic.
“That's probably for the best.” I said, even as visions of exploding umbrellas or switchblade sunglasses and other such devices of impractical mayhem danced through my head. “I never needed much beyond my own hooves anyway.”
“Spoken like a true professional. I knew I could count on you, Flash.” Princess Twilight smiled at me, then tightened the buckles of my saddlebags with her magic. “I wish we had more time to review Tempest's dossier, but every minute could be critical. The first train to Manehattan leaves soon, and even then you're going to have to hurry to catch the tramp steamer-- from there, it'll be two weeks sailing to Cowloon. That's where Tempest Shadow was headed when we lost contact-- hopefully you should be able to pick up her trail from there.”
“Hopefully.” I said. “But ... Princess, you still should know it's a big world out there, and I'm just one pony. I'll do my best, but it's probably better not to get your hopes up.”
“Don't remind me-- statistically speaking, the chances of one pony finding another pony, especially in someplace as crowded as Cowloon, are ridiculously small. But something tells me if anybody can find Tempest Shadow, it's you, Flash.”
She turned out to be right, unfortunately, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
“We'll find out soon enough, eh?” I fell back on easy bravado, by reflex.
“I guess we will. Just be careful, Flash-- I may have lost one friend already. The last thing I want is to lose another.”
“You won't, Princess. I'll be back in Ponyville before you know it.”
Princess Twilight smiled a crooked, girlish smile, and nodded. “I'd like that. Now come on-- you've got a train to catch.”
She saw me off at just the break of dawn, making sure I boarded the first train to Manehattan. She at least sprung for a first class cabin, so let it be said that Princess Twilight is nothing if not generous. I waved to the princess through the window as the train chugged out of the station, and then slumped into my seat once she passed out of view.
Between the softness of first-class seating and the fatigue of the previous night, it wasn't long before I fell asleep. The trip was long enough to get a few much-needed hours of sleep, with enough time to scarf down Princess Twilight's sandwich and come up with a plan. The beginnings of a plan, at least.
Way I figured, there were three options, of which I could do nothing to affect any of them. If Tempest was in trouble, well, any pony who could attain the rank of General in the Storm King's army could handle herself. Alternately, if she had relapsed into villainy, she'd no doubt come a calling once again, most likely with a new army of monsters at her back. Or, if something had killed Tempest Shadow already, there'd be no bringing her back-- not to mention I wanted nothing to do with anything formidable enough to put the likes of Tempest Shadow in the ground.
The solution, of course, was simple. I'd promised Princess Twilight I'd look for Tempest Shadow, but I certainly didn't promise I'd find her. All I'd have to do is lay low for a little while, and then I could return to Ponyville with a couple of exotic souvenirs, a contrite expression, and some fabricated story of how Tempest Shadow's trail ran cold.
By the time the train rolled into Manehattan Station, I found myself feeling something close to optimism. Why, this whole thing would practically be a vacation-- one paid for by Princess Twilight, no less. The real key was to pick the right place to lay low; someplace pleasant ... but plausible enough that a murderous unicorn would possibly go there. Perchertania, perhaps? If I were feeling really ambitious, I might even grow myself a moustache and see what kind of royal hospitality I could soak up before anyone noticed there were two Prince Percherons running about.*
*See: The Prisoner of Zebra.
Ultimately, I decided against a trip to Perchertainia-- mostly because I wanted to keep that particular trick up my sleeve in case I really needed it. No, I figured I could keep a low enough profile by sticking to the larger, more crowded cities: Manehattan, Fillydelphia, maybe even a jaunt to Las Pegasus. All of them paled in comparison to the clubs and bars of Canterlot, of course, but I'd make do. One occasionally has to make sacrifices for the good of Equestria, after all. No, the last thing I wanted was to sail across the whole damn world to chase after some scar-faced megalomaniac. So I'd just 'happen' to miss the tramp steamer that was supposed to take me to Cowloon, and the rest would work out from there.
It was a good plan, a great plan, if I do say so myself-- which is why I of course had to abandon it as soon as I stepped off the train. For right there, staring me in the face, was a newspaper stand, with the headline of the Manehattan Times staring me right there in the face.
I spent the first bit of Princess Twilight's travel money on a newspaper, and immediately scanned the cover story. The headline had the most of it, of course, but I picked a couple of key phrases out, such as “violent escape,” and “swearing revenge,” and “current whereabouts unknown.” Considering I had been instrumental in Cutie Cue's capture, I knew I'd be near the top of her revenge-list. With Carrot Top off ... wherever she was, there was no way I could fight Cutie Cue on my own.
Suddenly, Cowloon seemed like a far more appealing prospect.
Princess Twilight's schedule and instructions were characteristically meticulous. With the added impetus of an escaped murderer out there, I made it from the train station to the docks in record time. Mistmane's Maid was a battered little freighter, probably about as old as her namesake. The boat had everything one would expect from such a vessel: a surly captain, a suspicious-looking crew, and a lingering, briney smell that I care not to remember (no matter how hard I try). Still, the ship was ready to cart me halfway across the globe, and quite speedily at that. No sooner had I gotten situated on board, the captain started barking out orders, and so we were underway.
I leaned against the stern railing of the Mistmane's Maid, watching the city as we set out. The thrum of the engines and the splash of the waves fromed a steady, almost hypnotic rythm-- that was in soon broken by, of course, the sound of a mare shouting my name.
“Flash! There you are!”
For a moment, I feared Cutie Cue had found me already-- until I realized the voice came from above me, and Cutie Cue didn't have wings. And so, I glanced up-- at which point I saw a blonde pegasus with a gray coat and a lazy eye come a-swooping down on me with the sort of speed that could've gotten her into the Wonderbolts.
“Ditzy?” I managed to recall her name. “What in blazes are you doing here.”
“Looking for you!” Ditzy Do skidded to a halt beside me, panting. Her coat shone with sweat, and her wings trembled. “You've got to help!”
“I, er, I'll do what I can, but I'm afraid I'm otherwise occupied--”
“It's about Carrot Top.” Ditzy Do looked up at me, eyes (well, eye) pleading.
“It is?”
“Something's happened, but I don't know what. While you were giving your lecture at Princess Twilight's school, I delivered her mail-- you know, bills junk mail, that sort of thing –but there was one letter that really got her attention. She took one look at it, and then she told me that she had to go-- but she wouldn't tell me where. I ... I've never seen her act like that, even when she was ... um, on the job.”
“Wait, you know--”
“She's my best friend. So I know ... enough. Not the whole story. I don't want to know the whole story, either, honestly. But I'm worried. Carrot Top tried to throw the letter away before she left, but I miiiight have hung onto it. Here.” Ditzy Do pulled a torn envelope out of her mailbag and foisted it on me. “Does this look familiar to you?”
I slid the letter out of the envelope and looked it over. There wasn't a return address, of course-- nor were there any words at all. Just a simple pictograph: four rectangles, arranged into a square. Some kind of mathematical puzzle, perhaps? I shook my head, and looked back at Ditzy Do. “Not in the slightest.”
“Oh.” Ditzy Do's ears splayed back. “I ... I was hoping you knew. Especially after I heard you took the train to Manehattan-- my friend Boxcars told me Carrot Top left Ponyville just a few hours before you did.”
“She did?” I said, and looked out to Manehattan, wondering just what sort of trouble that would make Carrot Top drop everything and head to the big city. I ran a brief timeline in my head; the newspaper announcing Cutie Cue's breakout was fresh as of that morning-- could Carrot Top have gotten the news earlier than that, somehow? And where did the strange, pictographic letter come from?
“I was just hoping-- “
“I'm sorry, Ditzy.” In contrast to most of the apologies I've given over the years, I meant it. “I ... I've got no idea where she's gone. She could be halfway across the world by now, if she caught an airship or a boat out of Manehattan like I did. But ... Carrot Top can handle herself. And if she doesn't want to be found, well ... she doesn't want to be found. I wouldn't even know where to look.”
“Then what are you doing on this boat?”
“I'm not at liberty to give the details, but I'm on assignment from Princess Twilight herself.” Which sounded a fair bit better than 'I'm running away from an escaped killer,' at the very least. “I can't just drop everything to look for Carrot Top.”
“Oh. Oh.” Ditzy Do held a hoof up to her mouth. “One of ... those things, huh?”
“I'm afraid so.”
“Well, I'm not gonna stop looking.” She nodded, resolute, and splayed her wings out, rejuvenated after her brief rest. “I'll stay here in Manehattan to see if I can find any leads. If I do, I'll send you a letter--” The grey pegasus paused, glancing around. “Where are you headed, anyway?”
“Cowloon. It's a ... long story.”
“Really?” Ditzy Do said, blinking. “Why does that sound kind of familiar ... ?” she shook her head, and then looked over her shoulder to Manehattan again. “Nevermind, I'd better go. Just ... be careful, Flash. I don't want to have to tell Carrot Top that's something's happened to you. She ... “ Ditzy Do paused, biting at her lower lip. “She cares about you, Flash.”
As the pegasus looked up at me, full of the foolish hope and optimism that came from assuming my heroic reputation wasn't a sham, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Ditzy Do must have taken that for agreement, because she just smiled, pulled me into a brief hug, and took off to the air once again, flapping back towards Manehattan (albeit at a more leisurely pace).
It wasn't until Ditzy Do was well out of earshot that I let my mind go back to the letter Carrot Top had left for me, and I finally gave voice to my thoughts.
According to dime-novel entertainments like, say, those Daring Do novels, no ship ever reaches its destination without running afoul of pirates, sea monsters, a hurricane, or any combination of the three. Thankfully the voyage of the Mistmane's Maid was completely uneventful. Some of the crew even made a few comments about how pleasant the weather was.
Not that I was in any state to appreciate it. I spent the whole trip in misery, alternating between sea and love-sickness. It was the solitude that did it, as I had little to do aboard Mistmane's Maid but sit around and feel sorry for myself (at least, whenever I wasn't heaving my lunch over the side of the ship).
Again, according to dime-novel entertainments, this would have been the point where I'd start writing bad poetry and singing mournful ballads to the stars. Thankfully, I at least had the tiniest amount of dignity left, sparing you, dear reader, from my maudlin verse.
Really, it says something about my emotional state that the sight of Cowloon rising up over the horizon came as a relief. As we got closer and closer, the water traffic started picking up as well. The captain gave a great bellowing, and the Mistmane's Maid fell into line alongside the various fishing trawlers and cargo scows moving in and out of Cowloon's docks, even as the sun began to set.
By the time the dockworkers secured the Mistmane's Maid to the pier, I already had my saddlebags packed. The reassuring feel of solid ground underhoof was a mixed blessing. It meant my entire world wouldn't go a-swaying back and forth with each turn of the waves ... but it also meant that the uneasy feeling in my stomach was Carrot Top's fault.
The city of Cowloon was a ramshackle collection of buildings clustered together at the foot of a great, green mountain that loomed overhead. The crowded streets held creatures of every sort: the expected minotaurs and ponies, of course, along with various griffins, hippogriffs, and even the occasional yak.
Really, once you get past the city's omnipresent fishy smell, Cowloon is a perfect place for a cad like me. One could hardly walk a block without passing a half dozen taverns, casinos, and other houses of ill-repute, each one with a slightly different style and flavor than the last. I picked a respectably disreputable looking watering hole (emphasis on 'hole'), and ducked inside to gather my wits. If nothing else, the harsh rice liquor they served was a welcome break from the bitter rum the crew of the Mistmane's Maid apparently lived off of.
As I sat there, sipping what I hoped wasn't paint thinner, I realized I had no idea of what I was going to do next.
I supposed my best bet would be my original plan. I could just lie low for a while, and lie shamelessly to Princess Twilight when I got back. The rub there, however, was that I didn't know how long I'd have to hide out. I figured myself to be safe enough from Cutie Cue, over on the other side of the world, but I didn't know how long it would take the proper authorities to catch her-- even if they could. Cutie Cue had given Carrot Top, the deadliest pony I ever met, a run for her money. Theoretically, I supposed one of the Princesses could bring her in, what, with the cosmic magic of immortality and all, but they typically had better things to do.
Not that I cared much; as long as Cutie Cue stayed half a world away, I'd manage. In fact, so long as I steered clear of anypony of particular importance, I'd manage. No princesses, no special agents, no professional assassins-- I figured I'd be safe so long as I didn't speak to anyone more interesting than a bored-looking bartender.
That's when Tempest Shadow walked in.
I choked down a scalding mouthful of liquor, and stared. Tempest Shadow was the biggest unicorn I'd ever seen, almost approaching a Princess-level physique. She didn't have the warm, inviting aura of the typical Princess, however-- instead, Tempest Shadow carried herself with a proud, measured gait, as if holding herself in from breaking into a fit of sudden violence. She might've been pretty. Once. I shuddered to think of what happened to the pony that had made such a ruin of her face. A deep furrow ran down from temple to cheek, the puckered scar tissue keeping her right eye in a perpetual, disapproving squint. Her horn was even worse, jagged and raw, like a broken bone. The occasional spark of magical static fizzling from the broken tip.*
*Due to issues relating to Tempest Shadow's broken horn, most photographs of her came out slightly blurry, due to ambient magical discharge altering the film when the photos where taken. Thankfully, Princess Twilight made it a point to have several paintings of Tempest Shadow commissioned when she found out about this. Suffice it to say, Sentry's description of Shadow is in stark contrast to her official portraiture. Whether this is due to certain liberties taken by the artists in question, or simply another example of Sentry's oft-confessed shallowness, remains up for debate.
As soon as I caught sight of her, I buried my nose in my drink in hopes Tempest Shadow wouldn't notice me. Not that she'd have any reason to-- while I'd caused enough trouble during the Storm King's invasion, the two of us had never met face to face. For possibly the first time in my life, my reputation didn't precede me, as Tempest Shadow's gaze passed over me as if I were just part of the decor.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Tempest Shadow waved the bartender over-- the two exchanged a few low words-- at which point the bartender took out a small pouch and dropped it on the bar in front of her. My ear twitched at the heavy clink of coin-- but, surprisingly enough, Tempest Shadow didn't take the obvious bribe. She just shook her head and pushed it back to the bartender. I winced and started looking for the back door-- Tempest Shadow must have been insulted by the paltry sum offered, and she'd start smashing up the place until she got the amount she wanted.
But she didn't.
Instead, Tempest Shadow left the money-- and, after exchanging a few terse words with the bartender, turned to stalk out of the bar, and into the night beyond.
Naturally, I followed her.
Now, if you've been reading my memoirs for any period of time, this would probably be the point where you start accusing me of embellishing my tale. You're right to be suspicious, too, given what a craven coward I really am at heart. Had I been younger, I would have bolted at the first sight of Tempest Shadow, and kept on a-flying until I made it back to Cloudsdale. But, over the years, every time I found myself thrust into terrible, blood-curdling danger, I learned something (whether I wanted to or not). Foremost amongst those hard-earned lessons was the fact that it pays to know who's out to murder you, not to mention where they are. Ideally, one can use this information to be somewhere else-- but, barring that, I figured if I could keep an eye on Tempest Shadow from a distance, that meant she wouldn't be gunning for me. If I could gather a few tidbits of genuine intelligence to pass onto Princess Twilight (with the proper embellishment, of course), all the better.
And so, I gulped down the last of my drink, tossed a few bits on the bar, and slunk out into the Cowloon night. I took to the air at once, though it was tough flying between the various clotheslines and power cables and other hazards stretching across the streets. I'd say whoever designed Cowloon didn't have pegasuses in mind when they did it, but that would imply that Cowloon was intentionally designed in the first place. The way the streets and alleys twisted made me think the city hadn't been built so much as grown. Still, Tempest Shadow walked slowly enough that it was easy to follow her. She walked at a deliberate pace: not in a hurry, but not idle dawdling, either. A couple of Cowloon's rougher-looking denizens made it a point to give Tempest Shadow a wide berth as she approached. Not that I blamed them, of course, but I surmised that Tempest Shadow had been in town long enough to make a name for herself.
The scar-faced unicorn headed for the outskirts of the city, where the crowded tenements soon made way for bamboo groves and rice paddies. An evening shower rolled through (it goes without saying Cowloon didn’t have a designated weather patrol, the barbarians) and soaked my feathers, but at least the pitter-patter of the light rain offered me a little additional cover.
Tempest Shadow's path finally carried her up a rocky hill, to a small but finely built villa at its peak. She rapped on the heavy oaken door, at which point it opened up and let her in without fanfare. I circled around the place, taking in details: it was built in the traditional, eastern style, all swooping rooftops and intricate carvings and the like. Honestly, it was identical to any number of similar houses built around the outskirts of Cowloon, save for the logo carved into the doors.
Four rectangles, arranged in a square.
Not trusting my eyes (or perhaps not trusting the rice liquor I'd been drinking), I glided down to the ground for a better look. Silent, I crept closer to the villa's oak doors. And, sure enough, even in the darkness, I could tell the sigil was identical to the little bit of paper Ditzy Do had shown me before I left Equestria.
And that, I decided, was my cue to run.
I flared my wings out and wheeled around-- which brought me face to face with none other than Tempest Shadow. She must have circled around from a side door and crept up behind me, using the rain as cover, just as I did. The rain started pouring harder, and there was even an appropriately dramatic flash of lightning to illuminate Tempest's mangled face.
The thunder drowned out my dismayed scream of terror-- which is when Tempest hit me.
It's been my awful luck to get worked over by far, far too many assailants than I care to think about. Yet, of all of them, none were as terrifyingly fast as Tempest Shadow. I stood there, gawping at her one moment-- and then the next, I found myself down on the ground with a hot jet of pain shooting through my jaw, and the vaguest memory of a blur of movement.
Before I could so much as get my hooves under me, Tempest Shadow captured one of my forelegs and twisted it at an agonizing (though oddly) familiar angle, threatening to wrench it from its socket. She levered my face harder into the wet, hard stone of the pathway, and leaned down to snarl into my ear.
“What do you want? Why are you following me? Who sent you?”
I murmured something unintelligible in reply, but you try being coherent when a murderous and mangled mare is doing her best to grind your face into gravel. But then, a third voice called out over the pouring rain.
“Get your hooves off of him!”
I heard a heavy impact behind me, and suddenly the hooves binding my leg into place were gone. Knowing an opportunity when I saw one, I rolled to my hooves, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, and prepared myself to make a proper escape. That is, until I saw the earth pony staring down Tempest Shadow, her orange hair still a riotous and frizzy mess despite the now-pouring rain. Tempest Shadow dwarfed her in both height and bulk, but my savior stood her ground, hooves planted in a fighting stance.
“You must be Golden Harvest.” Tempest Shadow said, and wiped a trickle of blood from her nose. “I expected you to be taller.”
“And I expected you to be better.” Carrot Top said.
“You got a lucky shot. You won't get another.” Tempest Shadow rolled her neck with a cracking of her joints. “I know it's not tradition, but I'm fine with starting this early if you are.”
“No.” Carrot Top didn't attack, but she didn't ease off from her battle-readiness, either. “We'll do things ... properly. Later. But for now, all you need to know is that he is with me.”
“Is he?” Tempest Shadow arched a brow. “You should keep better company, Harvest.”
“Is that so? I'm not the one who fell in with the Storm King.”
Tempest Shadow reeled as if she'd been struck, and glared at Carrot Top. “I'm done wasting my time here.” She declared, and turned to head into the villa. “I'll see you at the funeral.” And with that, she walked through those heavy oaken doors, and disappeared.
Once the doors closed, Carrot Top turned her icy glare onto me. “I told you not to look for me, Sentry.”
“You did!” I blurted. “And I didn't! Would you believe this entire escapade is just one awful coincidence after another?”
“I ... would, actually.” Carrot Top groaned, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Princess Twilight sent me.” I added on, and looked over Carrot's shoulder towards the villa. “To look for her.”
“Of course she did.” Carrot Top said, and shook her head. “Doesn't matter now-- we've got to get you out of Cowloon.”
“That's the first sensible thing I've heard since I got here.” I said, standing up a little taller. “I've got a little cash, I'm sure we can book passage--”
“No 'we,' Sentry. You.”
“Beg pardon?”
“I can't go, Sentry. But you have to.”
“Why?” I blurted, for lack of anything better to say.
Carrot Top shook her head, frustrated. The defiant warrior of moments ago melted away, and with a simple slump of her shoulders, Carrot Top turned into little more than a wet, miserable pony. “You shouldn't be here, Sentry. I told you. I didn't-- I don't want you to--”
“Get hurt? That'd be a first.” I rubbed at my aching cheek. “Little late for that anyway.”
“Listen, Sentry.” And there Carrot Top was, grabbing me by my shoulders and looking up at me with deep, green eyes. Rain trickled down her cheeks as she pulled in a ragged, barely-holding-it-together breath, building up strength before she spoke again.
I've felt the icy claws of terror sink into my guts more times than I can count-- but as I sat across from Carrot Top, I felt a somewhat novel (and all the more worse) variation. It was one thing to have to worry about my own hide, but something else entirely to worry about the state of somepony else.
Carrot Top had dragged me away from the mystery villa, and the two of us took refuge from the summer rain underneath the awning of a noodle shop along the outskirts of Cowloon. Under other circumstances, the steaming bowl of noodle and vegetable soup would've made my stomach growl, but at that moment, I didn't have much appetite.
And the worst part was, Carrot Top just carried on like it was nothing. She dug into her noodles with gusto, taking a moment to savor the taste, smiling at some lost memory. Finally, she set her spoon aside, dabbed a bit of broth from the corner of her mouth, and asked me a question.
“Did you ever wonder how I learned to fight?”
“Not really?” I'd long since concluded Carrot Top's fighting prowess to be of the givens of the natural world, like how changelings could change shape, or how dragons could breathe fire.
“Of course you didn't.” The corner of Carrot Top's mouth turned up in the barest hint of a grin. “I won't bore you with my whole life story-- the important part is that I would never be Golden Harvest if I didn't meet Master Zhi.”
“Who?”
“Master Zhi. He is-- was the greatest martial artist in the world.”
“Was?” My voice may have cracked, if slightly. “Oh, oh no. Somebody's killed him, and now you're off on some damned blood-honor-vengeance-quest, aren't you?”
“It's not that simple.” Carrot Top said.
“Of course it isn't.”
“Master Zhi died of natural causes.” Carrot Top paused, thinking. “Probably. He died in his sleep, either way. I didn't come here to avenge him.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“I wasn't Master Zhi's only student-- there were four more. I was the second-- the other three enrolled after I left. Now that Master Zhi's dead, the five of us are gathering for the first time, to bury him.”
“Oh damn, you're going to bury yourself with him in some perverse display of loyalty, aren't you?”
“No.” Carrot Top said, flatly. “Nobody dies at the funeral. It's ... what comes later I'm afraid of.”
“And that is?”
“Master Zhi's students will fight to determine which of us will be his successor. I ... I don't know if I can win.” Carrot Top looked down into her bowl of noodles and let out a wistful sigh. Bit by bit, her bravado ebbed away.
“Then don't!” I pounded the table, harder than I expected. “The hell with Master Zhi, the hell with Tempest Shadow, and the hell with this whole filthy city. You don't have to do this, Carrot Top.”
“It's not just bragging rights, Sentry. Whoever succeeds Master Zhi will have access to the Manual of 36 Hooves-- a book full of secret, deadly techniques. Legend says there's even dark sorcery in the manual, the sort of power to rival the Alicorn Amulet, or maybe even the Elements of Harmony. Can you imagine what would happen if it fell into the hooves of someone like--”
“Tempest Shadow.” I groaned.
“Exactly.”
“But ... you can beat her, can't you? You're the toughest thing on four legs.”
“Maybe.” Carrot Top said, though without much conviction to it. “But that would still leave the other three to deal with. If Tempest Shadow wears me down, it'll be easy for one of the others to swoop in and take me out while I'm wounded. I can't beat them all by myself.”
“Then you're lucky you've got something that the rest of Master Zhi's students don't.”
“What's that?”
“Me.”
Carrot Top's eyes went wide, and she held a hoof up to her open mouth. I couldn't tell if she was trying to keep herself from laughing or crying, and frankly I didn't care either way.
“I'm serious.” I said. “You should know, more than anypony, that the only thing I'm good at-- really, the only thing I'm good for – is staying alive in the most insanely dangerous of situations. So just stick close to me, and I'll ... I'll think of something.”
Carrot Top's lips curled up in a wan smile. “That's ... uncharacteristically optimistic of you, Sentry.”
“I know.” I groaned.
We finished our noodles, and a bottle of rice-wine after that. Thusly fed, Carrot Top and I adjourned to the halfway-decent (and presumably fully-secure) hotel room that she had rented. A good thing, too, as I hadn't the foggiest idea of where to stay in Cowloon. We didn't talk about Master Zhi or his secret book for the rest of the evening-- we didn't talk about anything, to be honest. Instead, we passed those scant few hours in the manner one would expect of two ponies who didn't know if they'd see the next sunset.
I'll spare you the details.
By the time I rolled out of bed, Carrot Top was already running through one of her practice exercises, the morning stretches and poses I'd seen many a time before. She cycled through her fighting forms, each movement slowed down a thousandfold. The mere change of tempo transformed what would otherwise be a terrifying engine of destruction into a slow, mesmerizing dance, highlighting the toned muscle beneath Carrot Top's coat. It was a pleasant enough sight, but one that also meant I couldn't just fly Carrot Top to the first ship out of Cowloon while she was sleeping.
She finished her exercise with a languid, feline stretch, and then turned to look at me. “You're awake. Good.”
“Mmf.” Sore and bleary-eyed, I flapped my wings to disentangle them from the sheets. “They've got coffee in Cowloon, don't they?”
“They've got everything in Cowloon, if you've got the money for it.”
Cowloon was just as chaotic during the morning as it was late at night-- even more so. The rains had passed, and a bright, nigh tropical sun beat down on the city. Of course, the sunny weather didn't help the city's uniquely pungent odor, so I suppose it was something of a wash.
Carrot Top wound her way through the streets with a native's ease, first leading me to a cafe that specialized in Saddle Arabian coffee (the concentrated stuff, in the tiny cups) before heading to the outskirts once more. Again, she was maddeningly casual about it, just running errands instead of marching off to inevitable violence and mayhem. Somehow, the idyllic bamboo forests looked more intimidating in the daylight-- the morning sun cast long shadows over everything, vaguely reminding me of prison bars.
Tempest Shadow waited for us at the door to Master Zhi's villa, glaring at us with a disapproving eye. “You're late.” She sneered.
Carrot Top only replied with a haughty glare of her own, and walked through the villa's gate, into the rectangular, cobblestoned courtyard beyond. A casket of dark, polished wood sat in the center of the yard, with a sizable arrangement of flowers and incense sticks set up at either end. A large easel was set up next to the coffin, bearing a black and white photo of a dour-looking old stallion with long and narrow moustaches that vaguely reminded me of a catfish. Master Zhi, I presumed.
A good dozen or so ponies in silken robes milled about the courtyard, making politely awkward conversation. Tempest Shadow cleared her throat behind us, and everypony turned our way.
It was easy to pick out the important ponies, as they were the most dangerous looking. Perhaps I'd spent too much time around Carrot Top, as I quickly recognized the same confident wariness with which several of the other ponies carried themselves. Of course, said confident gait was far less interesting (and far more intimdating) on a pony other than Carrot Top, but that should go without saying.
“Golden Harvest!” A pegasus with a shaved head and an orange tunic was the first to trot over-- smiling, even. As he neared, I couldn't help but notice he was taller than I. He smiled a bit wider than one reallly should at a funeral, and then leapt upon Carrot Top faster than I could follow. For a moment, I thought the martial arts mayhem was about to begin-- but instead, it became clear that the bald pegasus was pulling Carrot Top into a lingering hug.
I think I would've preferred the fighting.
“Orange Sky.” Carrot Top's tone was friendly, but guarded. She wriggled out of the pegasus' embrace. “It was a ... long trip.”
“I always said you should've stayed in Cowloon.” Orange Sky said with a little ruffle of his wings. “But I'm glad you made it. Even if Porcelain Song got here before you did.”
At that, Orange Sky looked over his shoulder at a familiar-looking mare with a familiar-looking glare. I recognized her face in an instant, even though I knew her by another alias: Cutie Cue.
I would have bolted (and damnation, did I want to), but I knew I couldn't. The moment I showed the least bit of weakness, Cutie Cue (and who knows who else) would come a-hounding after me. That, and I didn't much fancy leaving Carrot Top alone with the likes of Orange Sky, either.
Luckily, Cutie Cue (or Porcelain Song, as she was going by) didn't launch herself at either me or Carrot Top, so we were left to pretend everything was normal. I hid behind a polite mask of a smile, just in time for Orange Sky to turn his eyes on me.
“Who's this?” He said. “Your valet?”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said in my most heroic baritone, and flared my wings out a little. Too late, I realized I should have worn my dress uniform. I cut quite an impressive figure in all my medals and epaulettes, after all. “Lieutenant Flash Sentry, of the Equestrian Royal Guard, at your service.”
Had I been in Equestria, my much-practiced introduction would have earned some oohs and aahs and possibly a free cocktail. In contrast, Orange Sky just looked at me with the sort of condescending expression one uses when humoring a child, and nodded. “It is good to meet you, Lieutenant. I am First Student Orange Sky.”
“Orange Sky and I trained together under Master Zhi.” Carrot Top said, entirely too casually.
“Did you, now.” I arched a brow.
“We did!” Orange Sky said, smiling at some fond, hazy memory. “I only wish she stayed longer. If she'd kept to her training--”
“I wouldn't be the mare I am today.” Carrot Top said.
“It's still good to have you back.” Orange Sky said. He glanced between Carrot Top and I, and then cleared his throat. “I'd like to have a word with you before the ceremony, Golden Harvest. Privately.”
I ground my teeth together, but Carrot Top waved me off with a little gesture of her hoof. “Of course. Don't worry, Sentry-- I won't be long.” And with that, the two of them trotted off to a far corner of the courtyard to conspire.
I glowered after them for a moment-- that is, until somepony behind me spoke up.
“Flash Sentry. I've heard that name before.”
I turned, and there stood one of the most beautiful unicorns I'd ever seen. Her meticulously groomed coat was a peachy cream in color, while her mane was a blue so dark it was almost black. She had her dark hair styled up in a complicated looking array, held in place with long, silvered pins. Her horn curved upward, just slightly, giving her a vaguely exotic air. A deep blue robe clung to the curvature of her body, meticulously tailored to draw the eye.
She was gorgeous and she knew it, which made her dangerous. Then again, I figured just about every pony at that funeral (save myself) was ludicrously dangerous, so at least she was pleasant to look at.
“You seem to have the advantage of me.” I sketched a gallant bow.
“Silken Lotus.” The unicorn said, holding out a hoof.
“A pleasure.” I favored that hoof with the lightest of kisses, earning a pleased giggle from the unicorn. Not that it did any good, as Carrot Top wasn't there to witness it.
“What brings a stallion like you all the way from Equestria?” Silken Lotus said with a little flutter of her eyelashes.
“Happenstance, to be honest. Golden Harvest and I are ... well acquainted, and it was luck that put us both in Cowloon at the same time. When I heard about her loss, well ... “ I trailed off and glanced over at the coffin once more. “It seemed best to tag along. You know, for moral support.” It was a half-truth, which meant it was the best kind of truth.
“How chivalrous of you.” Silken Lotus said. “But I suppose we should expect as much from a noted Hero of Equestria.”
“I'm surprised my reputation's reached this far.”
“Oh, there's a brisk trade in Equestrian newspapers here. There's something of a delay, of course, but late news is better than no news, don't you think? I mostly just like to read the makeup tips, but I found the accounts of your exploits to be quite ... interesting. And now, to see a pony such as yourself in the company of a pony such as Golden Harvest?”The beautiful unicorn narrowed her eyes, and her smile grew just a degree wider. “It's enough to make a mare ... wonder.”
“Wonder?”
“It's not yet certain who will succeed Master Zhi.” Silken Lotus tossed her luxurious mane a little. “Who knows what some ponies might do to ... tilt the scales, so to speak?”
“That ... shouldn't be a problem. I'm sure Master Zhi's legacy is a prestigious one, but it's no business of mine who gets all, er ... this.” I gestured vaguely at the villa.
“No? Then perhaps you should make it your business, Flash Sentry.” Silken Lotus edged closer, so that I might get a whiff of her flowery perfume. “You're new to Cowloon, but I can tell you're smart. Orange Sky is a boor, and Golden Harvest and Porcelain Song both abandoned Master Zhi to run off to Equestria. As for Tempest Shadow, it's fairly obvious why she shouldn't take Master Zhi's place. Logically, the duty falls onto the last of Master Zhi's students-- me.”
“That is a compelling argument, I admit. But it's not as if there's anything I can do about it.”
“One never knows.” Silken Lotus said. “The right word, murmured into the right ear can often do more good than a thousand pointless battles. If you were the one to murmur those words, Flash Sentry, I could be very appreciative.” She reached out and ran one hoof down my chest, making me shiver, if involuntarily. There was the little thrill of a gorgeous mare's caress, I admit-- though the more sensible parts of my brain reminded me that, as one of Master Zhi's students, Silken Lotus could easily kick me apart if she really wanted.
“I'll ... keep that in mind.” I said even as my mouth went dry.
“Please do.” Silken Lotus smiled a perfect, beguiling smile, and then sashayed away.
I cast a wary glance over at Carrot Top and Orange Sky's corner-- as far as I could tell, neither one of them had seen the little interchange between me and Silken Lotus. Before I could even start searching for a liquor cabinet, a gong rung, and the funeral service began.
I've attended more funerals than I can count, especially now that I'm getting on in years. Funerals aren't nearly as depressing when you're a coward-- every time I see a casket lowered into the ground, there's that little craven voice at the back of my mind noting: “better him than me.” That is, assuming there is a casket.
I've listened to yaks singing their death-ballads around funerary pyres, watched griffins leave their dead on lonely mountain peaks to feed the vultures, and gotten hellaciously drunk to the sound of a brass band in Neigh Orleans. In comparison, a Cowloon funeral is downright boring. There was some chanting and some praying and some waving of incense, and Orange Sky stood up in front of everypony and delivered a long-winded eulogy. I tuned him out, of course, since I'd never heard of Master Zhi until after he died. A good thing, too, as if he was able to create so much trouble just by dying, I shuddered to think what it'd be like to meet him while he was still alive.
As Orange Sky blathered on, I watched the reactions of the other ponies present. Most of them sniffled and sobbed as was expected, but Master Zhi's students kept their faces stony and stoic. They all had a hard, far-reaching stare, like sailors squinting at the incoming hurricane on the horizon.
The five of them-- that is to say, Orange Sky, Tempest Shadow, Siken Lotus, Cutie Cue, and Carrot Top –hefted Master Zhi's heavy coffin together, and led a winding procession to a graveyard at the top of a hill, marked by large, upright slabs of granite. As graveyards went, it was rather idyllic, surrounded as it was by green bamboo and chirping songbirds.
There were more prayers and more chants and more sticks of incense, until Master Zhi's casket was put in the ground, and a good deal of dirt thrown on top of it. Somepony rang the gong again, and the procession turned about to head back down the hill. Ponies broke off into little clumps and groups, ostensibly comforting each other, but most likely conspiring.
At least, that's what Carrot Top and I did.
“Are you ... alright?” I said, falling into step beside the earth pony.
“I'm fine, Sentry.” Carrot Top didn't take her eyes off the path. “For now. Things get ... complicated, later.”
“About that.” I sidled close enough that my shoulder just barely grazed Carrot Top's. “I ... may have an idea.”
“You do?”
“I spoke with Silken Lotus. Or, er, I should say, she spoke with me.”
Carrot Top arched a brow.
I went on anyway.
“She said she'd be, er, willing to take up Master Zhi's mantle, as it were. It'd be easier for her to do it if she had, er ... help. If two of Master Zhi's stood against the other three while they were still divided, well ... it makes sense, no?” I stumbled over a rock in the paths, and flapped my wings a little for balance.
“No.”
“Why did I have a feeling you would say that?”
“Silken Lotus used her training to take control of Cowloon's underworld. Every gang, every casino, every opium-den in town pays her a cut. Even the city's legitimate businesses pay her protection money. If she learned Master Zhi's secrets ... “ Carrot Top stared ahead in grim determination. “I can't let that happen.”
“And you know this ... how?”
“There's more to my job than babysitting you, Sentry.”
“Point.” I said with a shrug. “Still, that narrows our options, doesn't it? If things are as dangerous as you say, we're going to need one of the other students' help to make it out of this alive. Silken Lotus is a criminal mastermind, and so is Porcelain Song-- or Cutie Cue, I forget what we're calling her now. Obviously we can't trust Tempest Shadow, which leaves us with--”
“Orange Sky.” Carrot Top didn't sound too happy about it, either. “He'll help us ... under one condition.”
“Marry you?” I blurted. “Who in their right mind would want to do a stupid thing like that?”
Carrot Top arched an orange eyebrow.
I kept digging, despite the fact I hadn't had a drink in hours.
“I mean, leaving aside the fact that your particular choice of career makes anything approaching a normal life something of a pipe dream-- why even bother? The whole institution of matrimony is a racket anyway-- just an excuse to keep florists and dressmakers in business. Assuming, of course, the whole affair isn't crashed by changelings. I mean, they're supposedly reformed, but I wouldn't put it past them to go back to brain-eating if they were presented with delicious enough emotions to snack on, you know? And then you'd have to punch all their exoskeletons in and you'd get ichor all over your exorbitantly expensive wedding gown, which is why you shouldn't even bother in the first place. Though I suppose it wouldn't be a problem for this sham marriage that Orange Sky's after because you obviously don't love him.” A beat. “Do you?”
Carrot Top stared at me for a long, long moment, and then rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I can't believe that's what you're worried about.”
“On the contrary, this whole escapade has me terrified. I'm just focusing on the parts that are less likely to get me killed.”
“Look, Sentry. Orange Sky is a traditionalist. He wants-- he needs to be Master Zhi's successor. But he's smart-- or he thinks he is. So if he's going to continue Master Zhi's school--”
“He'll want an heir.” I said.
Carrot Top nodded, grim.
“And, presumably, if you and Orange Sky ... pair off, as it were, that keeps the big scary book out of the wrong hooves?”
“In theory.”
“Ah.” We ambled on in silence for a few paces. “Are you ... going to?”
“Going to what?”
“You know. Marry him. For the good of Equestria.”
“Not if I don't have to.” Carrot Top said. “But if I can't think of an alternative--”
“Well.” I said. “Wouldn't it be easier if we just stole the damn book?”
If certain entertainments are to be believed, epiphanies come with the 'ding!' of a bell along with the sudden illumination of a conveniently placed light bulb. In reality, the process is more gradual, with the realization crawling across a mare's face like the slow creep of dawn.
“Keep. Your. Voice. Down.” Carrot Top said in her most professional of murmurs.
“Oh. Right.” I said, and glanced around, paranoia activated. Cutie Cue and Silken Lotus were a ways ahead of us on the path-- had they slowed down to eavesdrop? Orange Sky wasn't in the immediate vicinity, but he could easily have reconnoitered us from above the treetops. I had no clue where Tempest Shadow was, which was a terrifying enough prospect in its own right.
And that's when I got an idea.
“Of course.” I said, just a hair louder than I'd been speaking earlier. “I'm sure the students of Master Zhi are much too honorable to steal anything.”
I winked at Carrot Top. She looked puzzled.
At least that part was normal.
Even with Master Zhi laid to rest, the ceremony wasn't yet finished. Most of the less notable mourners veered off, while Silken Lotus led the way to a posh tea-house, all carved mahogany and lacquered tile. An obsequious unicorn in a pillbox hat showed us to a table in the center of the place. We were the only ponies present, save for the staff. I wondered if somepony had put down the cash to rent the whole place outright, or (more likely), they had just intimidated the poor owner into closing shop for the day.
Orange Sky and Tempest Shadow joined us in short order, and I wondered if Orange Sky had propositioned her, just for thoroughness' sake. I supposed he could put a paper bag over her head if he was really serious about that 'heir' business.
Still, one doesn't become a ladies' stallion such as myself without being able to pick up on certain little cues, even when not directly involved in a particular assignation. Little glances, nudges, that sort of thing-- a silent, subtle method of flirtation. By the look of things, none of the mares present wanted anything to do with Orange Sky. That, or they were really good at concealing their emotions.
The six of us (which is to say, Master Zhi's five students and the perpetually unlucky Yours Truly) sat down at a low table with all the exacting politeness of ponies who loathed each other. The proprietor brought us green tea in little cups painted with blue flowers-- I waited 'til I saw Silken Lotus drink before I did the same. Cowloon tea, for the record, is entirely too weak and watery for my liking-- not like a proper, bracing cup of the dark stuff you get with a full Canterlot breakfast.
A heavy, meditative silence fell over the tea house, punctuated only by faint clink of teaware. Finally, after everypony had drank their first cup of tea, Silken Lotus gracefully dispensed refills and went on.
“We have much to discuss.” Lotus said, smiling beatifically over the rim of her teacup.
“No we don't.” Orange Sky said, glaring. “As the first student of Master Zhi, I am the only one worthy of continuing his legacy.”
“But what would you do with it?” Silken Lotus set her tea down and narrowed her eyes. “You'd sequester yourself in the villa, training, day in, day out, and for what?”
“For perfection of the form.” Orange Sky huffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Ah, but what good is perfection for perfection's sake? You would waste yourself in your training, while Cowloon rots outside your doors.” Silken Lotus' lips curled back in a predatory smile. “We have an opportunity before us. For years, this city has been the laughingstock of Equestria and Minotaruia both. But if we worked together, we could make Cowloon into a jewel. We can take the respect due to us, and the city will flourish.”
“And so will your coffers.” Tempest Shadow's lip turned up in a snarl.
“What an Equestrian thing to say.” Silken Lotus narrowed her eyes. “Quite an interesting change of heart, too. Especially since you tried to conquer the place.”
“She failed.” Carrot Top said in her characteristically competent tone. “And so will you.”
“Again, so very Equestrian.” Silken Lotus shook her head and gave a little sigh. “So confident the Princesses will save you through the power of ... Friendship.” She made the last word a sneer.
“It's not the princesses you've got to worry about.” Carrot Top set her front hooves on the tea table, and I instinctively started plotting a course to the nearest exit.
“You're right. I'm not worried about the princesses.” Silken Lotus didn't bat an eye. “You see-- while some of you have only used Master Zhi's teachings as a method of physical combat, I'm the only one who has realized their true potential. Positioning, leverage, momentum-- these aren't just parts of a training exercise-- they're philosophies.”
Carrot Top frowned, but didn't launch herself across the table at Silken Lotus, either. The other ponies just watched and listened, expressions stony. Though I did see Cutie Cue smirk, just slightly, which told me which side she'd thrown in with.
Silken Lotus continued with her monologue. “You see, Golden Harvest-- you have to look at the bigger picture. No matter how deadly you are, one pony is just that-- one pony. Alone, even with the Manual of 36 Hooves, no single one of us could take Canterlot, much less all of Equestria. Which is why I shall follow Master Zhi's first doctrine--”
“Strike where your enemy is weak.” Orange Sky said, sounding all the world like a sanctimonious schoolboy who couldn't help but give the right answer.
“Exactly.” Silken Lotus' eyes fell to me for a moment far longer than I would've liked. I shrank back an inch or two, and the elegant, maniacal unicorn lifted her teacup one again. “Do you know how much tea Equestria drinks in a year? And do you know how much of that passes through Cowloon ports? Just imagine what might happen if somepony were to apply ... pressure, to that particular import. And that's just tea-- there's also silk, porcelain, cosmetics, spices, chocolate-- Equestria needs, craves luxury. There'd be ponies in the streets after the second month. Two, at most.”
As Silken Lotus laid out her plan, I reminded myself that Equestria had no shortage of wineries and distilleries. Priorities, you know.
“And that's only going one way--” Silken Lotus went on. “There's Equestria's exports, as well: produce, stone, lumber-- along with a smattering of manufactured goods. If these shipments were somehow ... waylaid, or even lost, along the way ... it'd be enough to ruin several companies, and the after effects would ripple out from there. Within a year, Equestria's economy will be in shambles-- leaving room for Cowloon to take control as a leading world power.* And once it's known that I hold the Manual of 36 Hooves, there won't be anyone in Cowloon who will dare oppose me.”
While Silken Lotus' plan seems far-fetched, it is not entirely unfeasible. Economic structures of the time were notably shaky and unregulated, providing opportunity for cutthroat businessponies. For further first-hoof research on the subject, I recommend starting with “The Timberwolf of Fall Street” by one F. Flimflam.
“Do you really think you can conquer Equestria with ... money?” Carrot Top said.
“I don't think. I know.” Silken Lotus said. “And I'm not the only one. Tempest Shadow's already tried to disrupt my hold on Cowloon's businesses. Tried, and failed, I might add. It'll take more than just one mare to undo what I've spent years building.”
So that's what Tempest Shadow was doing back at the bar. Shaking the fellow down for protection money ... which she didn't take. Strange.
“And it'll take more than one mare to overthrow Equestria, no matter how much money you throw at it.” Tempest Shadow growled. She pushed herself back in her seat, and the table went still. Beside me, Carrot Top tensed, subtly preparing herself to launch across the table in a flurry of well-practiced violence. A quick glance to the other 'guests' showed they were doing the same.
The only reason I didn't start trembling then and there was because the five most deadly ponies I'd ever met were, at that moment, glaring at each other, rather than yours truly. As such, I was able to think of a course of action more complicated than a panicked retreat.
I cleared my throat.
That's when the five most deadly ponies I'd ever met started looking at me.
“Ladies.” I said, and then glanced to Orange Sky as an afterthought. “And gentlecolt, for that matter. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, hm?”
“Hold your tongue, lest someone cut it out.” Orange Sky glared back at me, flaring his wings out. “You don't belong here, Equestrian.”
“That is absolutely correct.” I tried not to think too hard about just what sort of cutlery Orange Sky would use to carve me up. “I don't belong here. I never met Master Zhi, rest his soul, and I can't begin to comprehend the importance of his legacy. Which is exactly why you need me.”
As expected, this explanation got me a quintet of baffled expressions. Which, to be fair, was far better than a quintet of murderous glares. Wishing sorely for a glass of brandy, I pressed on.
“You see, I could care less who does what with which book.” My cup of tea was hardly an excuse for something proper and boozy, but I slurped down half of it anyway in an effort to stay casual. “Which puts me in the unique position of being able to offer ... advice.”
“What makes you think we care what you have to say?” Cutie Cue said.
“Nothing, really.” I shrugged, and set my teacup down. “But you're listening anyway. I'm not going to try to argue for Silken Lotus' plan-- or against it, really. That's a choice for you to make. But it's a big choice, and one that warrants thinking on. As such, all I'm saying is that all of you take time to ... consider things. Give it ... oh, a day, I suppose? And if you decide that you're going to murder each other afterwards, that's fine-- but you could at least make arrangements to fight it out somewhere more ... appropriate. I'm sure the teahouse's proprietor would appreciate that much.”
Another pall fell over the table. I breathed in deep, putting on a brave face, even as my guts rolled and turned themselves into knots.
Silken Lotus laughed.
“You're smarter than you look, Sentry.” She said. And with that, the other ponies at the table relaxed from “imminently violent” to just “potentially violent.” Which was still terrifying, mind you, but at least it meant it was unlikely anypony would kick my skull in within the next few minutes. “I do like this teahouse, as well. So I'll give the lot of you a day to think this over. It should give you plenty of time to realize my plan is the best one ... or to prepare yourself for what happens if you don't. We'll meet at Master Zhi's villa tomorrow morning. Agreed?”
“I've already made my decision.” Tempest Shadow snarled. “But I'll give you a day to put your affairs in order.” With that, she turned her back on Silken Lotus and stormed off.
“Tomorrow it is.” Carrot Top said. There was less of a growl in her voice, but that made her all the more intimidating. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then took her leave with exact politeness. I managed not to trip over my own hooves as I followed.
Carrot Top didn't say anything for a good quarter-mile, winding her way through Cowloon's crowded streets and alleys, doubling back several times to make sure we weren't followed. With her paranoia finally sated, Carrot Top poked a hoof into my chest and affixed me with the sort of glare that I'd come to know pretty well since I'd first met her.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“Stalling.” I said.
“What for?”
“So we can get out of Cowloon without you getting killed.” I paused, thinking. “Or married, for that matter. I'll let you decide which is worse.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you, Sentry.” Carrot Top said, though she made it somewhat affectionate.
“If it helps, I wonder why you put up with me too.” I said. “But we can figure that out later. What's important now is that we catch the first steamer back to Equestria, where you can go tell all your buddies in the Equestrian Intelligence Office what Silken Lotus is up to. And then it'll be their problem.”
“I'm not leaving.” Carrot Top said. “Not until this is finished.”
“I knew you'd say that.” I said. “Which is what 'Plan B' is for.”
“Plan B?” Carrot Top said, suspicious. “Just what is 'Plan B?'”
I told her.
A few minutes later, Carrot Top once again stared at me, once again with a look of utter bafflement on her face. “That ... isn't the stupidest thing I've ever heard, but it's close.”
As the saying goes, you can buy anything in Cowloon, if you have enough money.
I used most of the funds Princess Twilight had foisted on me to purchase supplies. My scheme didn't require anything particularly exotic; it was the confidentiality that came at a premium. Still, it didn't take long to stuff our saddlebags, at which point Carrot Top and I went back to her safehouse apartment to wait.
We passed the time with a few rounds of cards, which Carrot Top took as an opportunity to divest me of the rest of Princess Twilight's travel money. I won't say she cheated, but I'd hardly be surprised if Carrot Top had picked up a couple of tricks doing her time with the Equestrian Intelligence Office.
Eventually, the sun set over Cowloon, and we set out. Clad in matching black masks and tunics, Carrot Top and I slipped out the window. She shimmied up a drainpipe, and I just used my wings to get to Cowloon's crowded rooftops.
If there's any part of my overinflated reputation that approaches anything close to truth, it's my skill in covert action. Which is to say, skulking about hoping nopony would notice. Admittedly, I tended to put this to better use creeping away from inevitable disaster, but it's a useful skill no matter which direction you're going.
Thusly, Carrot Top and I made our stealthy way through Cowloon, and into the bamboo forests beyond. We made our way to Master Zhi's villa, and I lifted Carrot top over the outside wall. Charcoal braziers burned in the corners of the courtyard, lighting the cobbles with a sinister reddish glow.
On silent hooves, Carrot Top and I crept across the courtyard. According to her, the layout of the villa hadn't changed since she'd trained there all those years ago, so we knew exactly where to go. Carrot Top led the way, and we slipped into a large building at the far end of the villa. To judge by the weapon racks along the walls, and the bamboo mats on the floor, I figured it to be some kind of training room. We didn't stay long-- it was a simple matter fo”r Carrot Top to pull up the corner of one of the mats at the end of the room, pry up some of the floorboards underneath, and then we skulked out again in no time.
Which is when things got complicated.
“I'm disappointed, Golden Harvest.” Orange Sky stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, glaring at us. “Creeping about like a common thief? I thought you were a warrior.”
“You never did know me very well.” Carrot Top said in the typically calm and collected tone of voice that she used when she was getting ready to start breaking bones.
“Isn't this a pleasure?” Silken Lotus said from the left side of the courtyard. She'd traded her floral-print robes for ones of jet black. She had her mane piled up in fresh (but no less elaborate) braid, held in place with at least a dozen long hairpins. Ninja couture, I supposed. Cutie Cue stood beside her, a thin, unpleasant smile on her face.
The elegant-but-no-doubt-deadly unicorn continued. “Honestly, Orange Sky, I would be disappointed if somepony didn't sneak in to look for the book. Something that important is worth getting one's hooves a little dirty. Don't tell me you haven't searched for it yourself-- to little avail, I imagine. If you'd really found it, you'd never shut up about it.”
Orange Sky bristled. “I'm not the one who's talking too much.”
“There's no way she could have found the Manual so easily.” Tempest Shadow said from her perch upon the courtyard wall opposite Silken Lotus and Cutie Cue.
“And that is where you're wrong, Miss Shadow.” I said, with all the bluster and bravado I could manage. Which is no small feat considering my audience was four of the deadliest ponies I'd ever had the misfortune to meet.
It was a good thing I'd gone to the bathroom before we set out.
With no small degree of flourish, I pulled an ancient, cloth-bound book from beneath my wing, holding it up high so the other ponies could see it by the flickering light of the braziers. Golden Sky even went so far as to gasp, which I couldn't help but find gratifying.
“The Manual of 36 Hooves is mine.” Carrot Top said, voice still level. “As is the Legacy of Master Zhi, and as is this house. And now, I'm giving you the chance to walk away. I won't ask again.”
“Hah!” Cutie Cue barked, and took a step forward. “Did you really think that would work? You just found the book-- you haven't studied it. What's to stop us from taking it from your dead hooves?”
“I don't need the Manual of 36 Hooves to beat you.” Carrot Top said.
“In a one on one duel, yes.” Silken Lotus rolled her neck, casual. “But Porcelain Song and I have come to an ... agreement. And I doubt you can fight the both of us.”
“You will never possess the Manual of 36 Hooves, so long as I breathe.” Tempest Shadow leapt to the ground, landing upon the cobblestones hard enough I could feel the impact in my hooves, a good several yards away.
“That can be easily remedied.” Silken Lotus said.
“You are all unworthy! My technique is best!” Orange Sky reared up onto his back hooves, contorting himself into a pose that would have looked frankly ridiculous if one didn't know he was getting ready to tear somepony's spine out. “The Manual of 36 Hooves is rightly mine!”
Beside me, Carrot Top lowered herself into a ready, defensive stance. The five martial artists stared each other down, like starving, rival wolves circling around a fresh carcass. None of them were willing to make the first move, knowing full well the tiniest of openings could turn deadly in a split-second.
“You're all forgetting something.” I cleared my throat. “Right now I'm the one holding the Manual.”
“Your point?” Silken Lotus said, deadly-sweet. “It's obvious you've thrown in with your lover.” Her eyes fell to Carrot Top again, as if to confirm her assumption.
“Lover?” Orange Sky sputtered, and turned to glare at me. “Him?”
“Dense as ever, Orange Sky.” Silken Lotus said with a roll of her eyes. “Which just shows why the Manual of 36 Hooves should fall to somepony who doesn't have a hoof for a brain. Now, Flash-- give me the Manual, and I'll let the two of you leave.”
“Actually, I had a different idea.” I said.
And with that, I threw the book into one of the burning braziers.
The dried-out, centuries-old paper ignited at once, bursting into flame like a pack of matches. All according to plan. When I had sketched out the mad scheme some hours earlier, I figured that things would then go in one of two directions. Without the book to fight over, the five deadly ponies would give up on their respective schemes and slink home in disappointment, at which point Carrot Top and I would catch the first steamer back to Equestria.
That, or they'd just cut loose and try to kill each other like they'd wanted to.
If you, dear reader, have been reading my memoirs for this long, you shouldn't be surprised as to which option those ponies took.
Cutie Cue dashed for the burning brazier, no doubt in an attempt to rescue the book, but Carrot Top blindsided her with a flying kick before she could make it. Meanwhile, Silken Lotus' horn glowed as she telekinetically slid a quartet of wickedly-pointed onyx hairpins from her mane. She flung the hoofspan-long needles at Tempest Shadow, but the unicorn blasted them out of the air with a blast of raw, unfocused magic.
With everything going to hell around me, I fell back on my preferred solution to such a situation. I ran. Or, well, I flew, more specifically-- after all, most of Master Zhi's students couldn't fly, which gave me a decided advantage when it came to staying the hell out of their way.
“YOU!” Orange Sky streaked towards me.
Most of Master Zhi's couldn't fly.
I hadn't counted on Silken Lotus goading Orange Sky like she did, nor had I counted on Orange Sky being so goad-able. And so, the big, burly pegasus swooped at me like an angry falcon, murder in his eyes.
“I shall kill you, and then Golden Harvest will have no choice to accept me as her worthy suitor!”
“Love doesn't work that way!” I blurted, and ducked beneath the first of Orange Sky's savage kicks. I'm no Wonderbolt, but I've flown with them.* I've never been one for fancy air-show maneuvers, but when it comes to self-preservation, one would be hard pressed to meet a pony with as many tricks as I. As Orange Sky came at me, I twisted, banked, rolled, dived-- anything to keep myself away from his blindingly-fast hooves.
See: Sentry at the Charge.
Master Zhi had been a unicorn, and that's the only thing that kept me alive. His style (being so practically demonstrated by the four mares below) was primarily terrestrial. It simply wasn't meant for aerial combat. Which isn't to say that Orange Sky was a pushover-- but if he wanted to kill me, he'd have to catch me first.
I flapped my wings as hard as I could, climbing up into a dark cloud. It was too wispy and thin to squeeze any lightning bolts out of it, but it at least was enough to hide in, giving me a brief chance to gulp down a few frantic breaths.
My respite didn't last long-- Orange Sky burst through the cloud cover right next to me, lashing out with a deadly hoof. I twisted away-- but not fast enough, and he clipped me on the side of the head. Light flashed before my eyes, and the sky whirled nauseatingly around me. Precious seconds later, my vision cleared enough for me to register the ground rushing up at me. I splayed my wings by instinct, angling them to pull myself out of my crash-dive. My hooves scraped the cobblestones as I streaked across the courtyard. I laughed, giddy to escape death yet again--
--which is when I crashed into Tempest Shadow.
We tumbled over each other, cursing and kicking, until the two of us crashed into the courtyard wall. I groaned, and instinctively shoved Tempest Shadow off of me with all four hooves. She rolled to the side, swearing like a sailor. In retrospect, she should have thanked me, as I kicked the scarred unicorn away just in time for the trio of needles Silken Lotus flung at Tempest's throat to embed themselves in my flank.
My ensuing scream could best be described as 'girlish.'
Seeing as of how all the other ponies didn't immediately start pointing and laughing at me, I can only presume my whimpering went unheard over the din of battle. Tempest Shadow didn't thank me for saving her life, either, instead springing back to circle warily around Silken Lotus once again.
Unfortunately, I didn't go completely unnoticed: Orange Sky swooped down at me again, shouting bloody oaths and threats that are best not reprinted here. Bruised and bleeding as I was, at least my wings still worked, and I made good use of them as I made my hasty retreat. Orange Sky smashed his forehooves into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster, then pushed off to keep chasing me.
I didn't have enough time to gain altitude-- instead, I skimmed just over the cobblestones, weaving and circling around the other ponies trying to kill each other. I whizzed past Carrot Top and Cutie Cue, finding some gratification in the sight of the former planting a hoof right onto the latter's jaw.
“Sentry!” Tempest Shadow shouted at me. “Turn left!”
Without thinking, I obliged-- just in time for a stream of raw, crackling magic to streak by me-- and into Orange Sky. The blast hit him like a fire hose, smashing him into the courtyard wall.
“Now we're even.” Tempest Shadow snorted.
“Thanks?” I said, slowing myself to a steady hover. I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, Orange Sky was laid out unconscious-- or possibly worse. One less thing to worry about--
--which is when Cutie Cue grabbed me.
She effortlessly twisted me into a fair approximation of a pretzel, twisting one of my forelegs at an unnatural angle with one of hers, while she pinned the other around my neck in a choke-hold. I tried to cry out in pain, but the hoof to my throat choked it to a mere raspy whimper.
“Get back!” Cutie Cue shouted, wheeling me around to face a grim and bruised Carrot Top. “I'm warning you-- one step closer, and I'll tear him apart!”
Carrot Top narrowed her eyes, and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “Let him go.”
“Why should I?” Cutie Cue said, and cranked my leg a degree closer to its breaking point. “Master Zhi's first doctrine is to strike where your enemy is weak. And I don't think it gets much weaker than this fool here.”
“Well done!” Silken Lotus said as she trotted up beside Cutie Cue. With most of her hairpins gone, the unicorn's dark mane was left to tumble around her neck and shoulders-- unkempt, but in a somewhat enticing sort of way. “I should have thought to take him hostage earlier.”
“What do you want?” Carrot Top growled, planting her hooves. “The book's destroyed--”
“A minor setback.” Silken Lotus waved a hoof. “Enacting my plan without it will be difficult, but not impossible. No, the only thing holding me back at this point ... is you and Tempest Shadow.”
“You forgot one thing.” Tempest Shadow said, stepping in to stand next to Carrot Top.
“What's that?” Cutie Cue tightened her grip around my neck.
Just before that crackling burst of magic struck home, I couldn't help but wonder why Tempest Shadow had bothered saving me before, only to blast me to smithereens a moment later. The crackling, raw burst of energy slammed into me with bone-jarring force, sending both me and the murderous pony flying.
My body shielded Cutie Cue's from the magical blast, and hers in turn took the brunt of our impact against the courtyard wall behind us, so I guess it came out as a wash. Having been beaten, stabbed, and throttled mere minutes before, one would think that my nervous system would be past capacity for further pain-- but sadly, that was hardly the case. Some vainly optimistic voice at the back of my head reminded me the pain was a sign I was still alive-- even if I wasn't likely to stay that way at this rate.
It hurt to breathe-- on account of a cracked rib or three, I realized from hard-earned experience. It hurt to move-- what, with the general abuse I'd already endured. It hurt to open my eyes-- I wasn't sure if the flashes of light swimming before my eyes were sparks of residual magic, or symptoms of a mild concussion.
I mumbled out an incoherent obscenity, and slowly got back to my hooves. Not as a testament to endurance or anything of the sort; rather, I knew the sooner I could get moving, the sooner I could get moving away from ... well, everything.
My vision cleared just in time for me to see Carrot Top plant both of her rear hooves into Tempest Shadow's midsection. The scarred unicorn reeled-- and, true to form, Carrot Top seized the opening, falling onto Tempest Shadow with a barrage of savage blows, using every bit of her earth pony prowess to beat Tempest Shadow into the pavement. Tempest Shadow tried to defend herself, but Carrot Top battered her way through the unicorn's guard. On the too-numerous occasions I'd seen Carrot Top fight before, she did so with a professional air, using the exact amount of movement and force to deliver the most hurt in the most efficient way possible. This time, it was far different. Any pretense, any barrier Carrot Top might have had holding her back was gone. She fought with all the fury of a scorned mare, albeit one who'd mastered most martial arts known to ponykind. It was a terrible, beautiful thing-- kind of like watching an unfettered thunderstorm from a long, long distance away.
I'll freely admit I took no small degree of satisfaction at seeing such a practiced display of violence performed on my behalf. Then again, I'll also freely admit I am a terrible pony.
Pained and panting, I cleared my throat. “As entertaining as this is, Carrot, try not to break too many of her bones. I don't want to carry her all the way back to Princess Twilight's castle.”
Carrot Top stayed her blood-spattered hoof. “Flash?” She looked up, blinking. “You're alive?”
“Not for long!” Cutie Cue shouted, and grabbed hold of me once more. Thankfully, Tempest Shadow's blast had rattled her-- if it hadn't, Cutie Cue would've broken my neck then and there. I grappled with the maniacal mare, fending her off as best I could.
Acting on pegasus instinct, I took to the air, Cutie Cue still clinging to me with murder in her eyes (and in the rest of her, to boot). I beat my wings, climbing higher and higher. Even with several stone worth of earth pony clinging to me, I soon burst through a low-laying cloud some distance above the villa. Cold air ruffled through my feathers, a stark contrast to the alarming amount of warm blood leaking out of me in at least four places.
Cutie Cue jabbed a hoof at my throat, but her lack of proper footing saved me: Master Zhi's teachings didn't take air-to-air combat into consideration. As such, I had enough time to get one of my forelegs in the way so she merely broke my ankle instead of my windpipe.
My pained yelp was lost to the windy skies as I writhed in pain. Blindly, I kicked my back legs--
--and knocked Cutie Cue loose.
She hung in the air for an impossible moment, staring up at me with wide, panicked eyes as the sudden, horrid reality of the situation struck her. Were this one of those dime-novel entertainments, this would be the point in which Daring Do would swoop in and say something inane like “take my hoof!” and then save the villain in a sweeping display of mercy, a tribute to her innate goodness.
I am no Daring Do.
Cutie Cue disappeared through the clouds. I didn't see her hit the ground, but I certainly heard it. I stretched my wings out for an easy (if unsteady) glide, spiraling downwards. Carrot Top and Tempest Shadow stared at the wet, broken ruin that had once been Cutie Cue (or Porcelain Song, or likely any number of other aliases), to the point where they didn't even notice me until I landed a polite distance away.
“It ... it was her or me.” I said, limping a little closer to Carrot Top.
“You idiot.” Carrot Top made it a term of endearment.
“And she showed such promise, too.” Silken Lotus said. Somehow, she'd managed to keep herself looking entirely-too-enticing through the brawl, her mane hanging around her shoulders in a manner more reminiscent of boudoir entertainments, rather than life and death struggle. “But Porcelain Song just had to make things so ... personal.” She shrugged, and then deigned to peer at Carrot Top, the least-beaten down of all of us. “I suppose it comes down to-- AGH!”
Silken Lotus' potential monologuing was cut short by Carrot Top pouncing onto her, with an encore performance of the thorough beating she'd just given to Tempest Shadow. Concussion in G-Major, with percussion solo.
“I. Am. Getting. Tired. Of. You.” Carrot Top punctuated each word with a strike or kick. Silken Lotus made a good account of herself, but it would've took nothing short of a capital-P Princess to stand against Carrot Top at that particular moment.
“Wait!” Tempest Shadow called out.
Again, Carrot Top stopped. Her sides heaved as she looked up at Tempest Shadow, rage giving way to confusion.
“It's not what Twilight Sparkle would do.” Tempest Shadow said.
That's when Carrot Top and I started laughing.
The brief reprieve gave Silken Lotus time enough to get back to her hooves and limp away-- Carrot Top didn't bother stopping her. Instead, still snickering, she walked over to me and leaned on my side, shaking her head.
“You--” Carrot Top pointed at Silken Lotus. “Go. We both know it's over. And if my morning coffee goes up in price by so much of a bit, I will find you and finish the job. Understand?”
Silken Lotus wiped blood from her nose-- the thorough trouncing Carrot Top bestowed on her had finally broken her carefully cultivated beauty, leaving her looking more like a cowed animal. Still, while hate shone in her eyes, so did a certain cunning, the primal instinct for self-preservation. (I should know, as I've seen it in the mirror more times than I can count). She nodded, then limped out of the villa, into the bamboo forest beyond.
Tempest Shadow and Carrot Top watched her go, standing there for a few long minutes, as if making sure Silken Lotus wasn't about to double back with an army of assassins at her command.
“So ... that's it, then?” I said, perhaps vainly optimistic.
“That's a good question.” Carrot Top slowly, carefully stepped out from beneath my wing, all the better to glare at Tempest Shadow once more. “Is it?”
“We want the same thing, Golden Harvest.” Tempest said. “To keep the Manual of 36 Hooves away from anypony who'd misuse it. Which is why you made the fake.”
“What?” I sputtered. “How did you--”
Tempest Shadow allowed herself a grim smile. “Because I stole the book before you even got here.”
“Then why stay?” Carrot Top said. “You could have run.”
“And then the others would know I was the one who stole it. Or they would have if you hadn't provided a ... distraction. You two seem to be good at that.”
“So now what?” Carrot Top dragged one hoof across the cobblestones, as if to sharpen it.
“Now ... now I keep on doing what I planned. I ... I can stay here.” Tempest Shadow didn't sound particularly thrilled at the concept. “Unless you would prefer to protect the Manual yourself?”
My stomach lurched, and I shot a panicked look at Carrot Top.
“You trust me?” Carrot Top said, wary.
“To a point.” Tempest Shadow said. “But you were the only one who was fighting for something other than yourself.”
The scarred unicorn looked at me for a moment, and damn if there wasn't the faintest trace of jealousy in her gaze. That, or she was still a bit loopy from a mild concussion. “And that's why you two deserve to go home.”
The words struck Carrot Top harder than any kick could have. And with that, her air of deadly professionalism slipped to show just another hurt, confused pony. “There's got to be another way--”
I chimed in. “And I know just what it is.”
Tempest and Carrot both turned to me, which would have been a fearsome sight even before the bruises and blood dotting both of them. Still, I cleared my throat, and went on blithely talking to two of the deadliest ponies I'd ever met.
“You do realize, of course, that we know a certain bibliophilic princess who would be absolutely thrilled to come into possession of some rare, ancient text. Not to mention the fact she's likely the last pony who'd ever even think about using whatever terrible deadly secrets held within said rare, ancient text.* I mean, that's why she's a princess, isn't it?”
Incidentally, there are certain, arguably apocryphal accounts from several decades into Princess Twilight Sparkle's reign, in which she demonstrates certain self-defense techniques remarkably similar to certain Cowloon-style martial arts. As of this publication, Princess Twilight has not yet replied to my letters of inquiry on the subject, no doubt on account of her exceedingly busy schedule.
Tempest Shadow blinked, the proverbial gears turning in her head. “You're smarter than you look, Flash Sentry.” She finally said.
“I'm not sure if I'd go that far.” Carrot Top quipped.
“You're right.” I said. “If I were smarter, I wouldn't be in Cowloon in the first place.”
“None of us would.” Carrot Top winked at me, and then limped towards one of the villa's outer buildings. “Now let's get patched up.”
And that was that.
By the time Tempest Shadow, Carrot Top and I had wrapped ourselves in a field hospital's worth of gauze and splints, Orange Sky had woken up enough for the two mares to explain what would happen next: he'd get to keep Master Zhi's villa, but not the Manual. And if he ever came to Equestria with ill intent, it would most certainly end badly for him. Which it did, I should note, but that's a story for another time.
Orange Sky also assured us that he'd see that Porcelain Song would get a proper funeral-- though thankfully this one wouldn't involve a fresh crop of martial artists getting together to beat the snot out of each other. Not that we stuck around for it-- after Tempest Shadow and Carrot Top browbeat Orange Sky into obedience (scarier than a regular beating, I should note), the lot of us caught the first ship headed for Equestria.
Once we were underway, I purloined a bottle of cheap rum from the ship's stores and found myself a spot up at the bow of the ship. It was good to feel the briny breeze ruffle through my feathers-- a reminder that I was finally headed away from Cowloon.
“I should have known you'd be up here.” Carrot Top trotted up beside me. With icepacks and gauze patches taped to the most grievous of her injuries, she looked like nothing so much as a much-loved children's toy that had been repeatedly mended with bits of white fabric. Then again, given my own battered body, we made something of a matched pair. “Tempest Shadow's in her cabin, writing a letter to Princess Twilight.”
“I trust she'll provide a sanitized account of what happened? You know, without the murder and all.” Without prompting, I offered Carrot Top the bottle of rum.
“It wasn't murder. It was self defense. But yes. Tempest Shadow will be ... discreet.” Carrot Top took the bottle off my hooves and drank from it-- only to break into a rough cough. “And here I thought you had standards.”
“I still do. Unfortunately, the galley's wine list is rather lacking. As in nonexistent But, you know what they say-- any bottle in a storm, eh?” I took hold of the bottle again and kicked back a dram of searingly-sweet liquor.
“They don't say that.”
“Maybe they should.”
Carrot Top smiled, though I couldn't say if she was humoring me or not. Then again, I don't think she could, either. It was a fleeting expression, though-- she soon took on a serious air.
“Flash.” She set a hoof on my shoulder. “I ... I wanted to say I'm sorry.”
“For what?” I blurted.
“For dragging you into this. Even though I tried not to.”
“Lot of good that did.” I said, and looked out towards the horizon.
“At least I've learned my lesson.” Carrot Top put her front hooves on the ship's railing and leaned against my side. I didn't push her away.
“And that is?”
“You're more than capable of getting into trouble on your own.”
“And here I thought we'd already established that.”
“I know. But this just means I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you. That is ...” Carrot Top's voice faltered as her green eyes turned up to mine. For a fleeting moment, she wasn't Master Zhi's deadliest student, or the Equestrian Intelligence Office's most skilled operative. No, for a fleeting, vulnerable few seconds, she was just a mare from Ponyville, far from home.
Lonely.
“That is, if you don't mind?” Carrot Top said.
“Carrot.” I touched a gentle hoof to her cheek. “Have you ever realized you always get sentimental right after someone's tried to kill us?”
“I-- what?”
“It just seems that every time I wake up from my latest concussion, you're the first one there when I wake up.”
Carrot Top's brow creased into a familiar glare. “Are you complaining?”
“Quite the opposite.” I said, and kissed her.
Eventually, one or the other of us had to come up for breath. Still, we stood close, my forehead pressed against hers. Between the wide horizon, the setting sun, and the ocean breeze, we could have posed for the cover of a maudlin romance novel (so long as one looked past the scars and bandages).
“So.” I said. “The next time you tear off on some damned dangerous mission you don't want me getting in the way of ... just tell me. Please?” My voice may have faltered, and I may have been, for a fleeting moment, just a bewildered Canterlot colt, far from home.
“Deal.” Carrot Top said. “But don't blame me if you get roped into it anyway.”
“I'll try.” I groaned, and turned to look out towards the ocean once more. “With our luck, Fancy Pants will be waiting at the docks by the time we get back. Or worse, it'll be one of the Princesses.”
“Not necessarily.” Carrot Top said. “Especially since this ship's due to make a supply stop in Zebrica on the way back. I hear the beaches are nice this time of year.”
And you know what?
They were.
-So ends the sixth volume of the Flash Sentry Papers.
