Two days had passed since Kestral's meeting with Luna. He passively wondered about how she was doing, but felt that pressing the matter would be inappropriate.

Besides, he had more to worry about. Discord was found, apparently, but a quick meeting with him eased his worries. From what he understood, Celestia was trying all she could to get Discord to stop. To get him to give them the locations of the changelings. Discord said that he refused. 'Celestia had her chance. She refused to help me. Now, I refuse to help her.' He felt that there was some other, underlying reason, but Kestral couldn't think of one, so he accepted the reasoning Discord gave him.

Without any real need to help or consult any parties involved, Kestral decided to spend his time in a more relaxed manner. He would wake up in the afternoon, with Navi already home, and he'd just listen to her talk about her whole day. From talking with her friends in the A.M., to saying their daily farewells, she would tell him about all of it, and he would sit there, listening to her as much as he could. After a while, though, she ran out of things to talk bout, leaving them in an awkward silence, where neither of them knew what to talk about.

After than, Navi just asked Kestral if he wanted to go see Jasmine at work. He did, and she led the way to the massive, ten-story tall building, which had a clean, white, sterile-looking design, akin to modern hospitals back on his own earth. They met Jasmine, but, while she explained she was grateful for walking Navi to the hospital, she was far too busy for conversation. So, he left them soon after. Once he was gone he went to the one place he knew he could, at the very least, pass the time; The bar.

“Blackjack.” Kestral said, putting the two cards down on the table.

“Son of a bitch.” Spat the mare beside him, throwing her cards on the table.

“That would be me.” Said the diamond dog next to her.

The colt and second mare at the table put their cards down silently, accepting their momentary defeat.

Kestral used his free hand to pull the small pile of bits from the center, stacking them up next to his drink. He grabbed a handful of bits, and put them back in the center.

The diamond dog blew a puff of smoke as he dealt the next set of cards. The wind coming through the open doors easily blew it away, keeping the air clean of the cough-inducing material. It nearly blew the colt's fedora away too, but he caught it in the nick of time.

“The weather team needs to get on top of that wind.” The colt said, putting his hat back on, and adjusting the tie around his neck while he was at it.

Everyone looked at their cards, either hitting or staying. Kestral busted once he had a third card, so he tossed his cards in the burn pile immediately. “Bust.”

“You sure they aren't the ones causing it?” Said the unicorn mare next to him. “You know they have to do that every once in a while. It keeps the air fresh. 'specially the lower district.” She said.

“Hey.” The diamond dog, with a gruff voice, interjected. “I live down there. It not bad as you ponies say.”

“You live in the lower district?” Kestral asked. “I've never been there. What's it like?”

“It nice. Smells a little, but it okay. People nice there, neighbors know eachother, people help people. Lots of foreigners. Don't let ponies fool you. Lower district rich in culture.”

“Like anyone in the lower district could recreate the majestic sculptures from pre-celestial eras.” The unicorn pitched in.

“Pick and choose.” The dog said. “Noble ponies have art from ancestors. Lesser ponies have virtues from ancestors. Which is more culture?” He laid down his cards. “Twenty.”

Kestral nodded. “Good question. Nineteen.”

“Eighteen.” The unicorn said. “But, how do you know they really have the same 'virtues' as their ancestors?” She asked.

“Let's not get into an argument, sweetie.” The colt added, giving his cards to the dog. “We're here to have some fun and relaxation, remember?”

She huffed. “Yeah... sorry.”

“No harm.” The diamond dog said nonchalantly. After a moment of shuffling, he passed out cards again, and gestured to Kestral. “Really. It nice place. There are trouble makers, but guards keep many in line.”

“Many?” Kestral asked. “Not all of them?”

“'course not.” The earth pony mare next to him said. “The guard isn't perfect. We make mistakes, and sometimes the bad ones get away.”

“Sorry.” Kestral said. “I was just wondering if there were certain areas I should avoid.”

“There are a lot.” She said. “North side of the lower district is taken by the thieves guild. They won't hurt you, but if you have anything worth more than twenty bits, I can guarantee you won't be walking away with it. Every time we arrest one of them, two more pop up, I swear.”

Thieves guild? Hell, I think I may just find a few allies in the money-making business. “Doesn't sound too bad.” Kestral said. “But I’m guessing there's something worse?”

“Damn straight.” The mare took a swig of the tall, dark, glass of beer before her. “Thieves guild is butting heads with Butcher's gang down south-side. The guild might be bigger, but Butcher is ruthless. If you don't comply to his demands while on his territory, you'll get a black eye, or worse.”

“Damn. Guess the lower district isn't safe, is it?” He asked.

“Oh, no. It's plenty safe, just don't go near the north or south ends, and you'll walk away with your bits and your health.”

“Okay. I didn't plan on going down there anyways.” He said.

“Well.” the unicorn pitched in. “It's not like the other districts are perfect either. I heard a hypogryph from the middle district tried to commit arson on the Guard-wells.”

“Holy crap!” The guard-mare's eyes widened. She turned her head. “Hey Plate! Sparky's back!”

“Fuck yeah!” Called out a random voice from the corner of the building.

She shook her head, with a smile plastered on her face. “This city is about to get a lot more lively.” She stuck with that smile, until the moment her eyesight lined up with some object behind Kestral. “Shit....”

“What?” He looked behind himself, and saw that numerous amounts of guards were staring at a lone figure walking through the entrance. It was a muscular stallion unicorn, with dirty-white fur, and a far more pale mane. He wore a red and brown leather vest, full of different vials and containers. He had two swords sheathed at his sides, glistening in the light coming from every illuminated crystal that hung from the ceiling.

Kestral watched as the figure went towards the bar, slowly losing attention from the mass of off-duty guards in the room. “What did he do?”

“Nothing... yet.” The mare said.

“Well...” He said. “... is he a known criminal or something?” He asked.

“Just about all of them are.” She said, glaring at the stallion.

“All of who?” Kestral asked.

She turned back to the table, closing her eyes and furrowing her brow. “Witchers.” She shook her head. “Those fuckwads don't give a crap how much damage they do, as long as they get their target.”

“Okay.” He said. “Let's assume I've never heard the term 'witcher' in my life. What would it entail?”

“Really? I mean really? Never in your who- Okay, sure.” She paused. “They're monster hunters. All kinds of monsters. Undead, spirits, mystics, and just about anything in between. They're brutal, and never let off. They don't give a crap about what laws they break, cause most of them are on enough pay to buy their way out of court, if they even get caught in the first place.”

“Wow.” He said. “Sounds dangerous.”

“That's an understatement.” She continued. “If they don't have anything else to work with, most of them will just burn a building down to get one ghost.”

Kestral just looked at her through the mask, holding silence for a small moment. “Huh.” He said. “Sounds like a dangerous bunch.”

“Yeah.” She said, going back to her game.

Kestral twiddled his thumbs for a moment, then put his cards down. “Fold.”

The group looked at him curiously. “For blackjack, it's 'surrender'.” One of the ponies said.

“Yeah, that.” he grabbed his bag of bits and his drink, standing up. He began to walk towards the bar.

“Where are you going?” The mare asked him. “We're in the middle of a game!”

Kestral pointed at the burly stallion that took a seat at the bar. “Well, he's here for some reason right? Why not ask him?”

“What!? No! He'll just get pissed!”

But it was too late. They looked in awe as the Kestral casually walked towards the buff, pale, stallion, confidently taking a seat next to him. He took in a breath of somewhat smokey air, ready to start conversation, but the stallion beat him to it.

“If you're here to try and coax me into fighting,” His low, strong, voice emanated an air of oppressing superiority. Not like the pompous tone of the nobles, but more like an 'I've-never-lost' voice of a champion. “you can leave right now.” He didn't even spare a look at Kestral.

“I'm not really into fighting people anyway.” Kestral said. “Besides, I’m just curious.”

He huffed. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing.” He said.

“Depends on who you ask.” Kestral retorted.

The stallion turned his head, looking over Kestral with cold, steady, eyes, until he met Kestral's own gaze. Just for a moment, he held a small smirk, before turning back to the tall drink on the counter. “Hmm. That's fine, but I don't deal information.”

“I'm not asking for anything secret.” Kestral said. He pointed back behind himself. “They say you're a monster hunter. A few of them say you're a monster yourself.”

“And what do you say?” He asked.

“That I don't know, and I’m not going to assume anything.”

He humphed. “Well, then your already of better character than most of these folks, as far as I care.” He looked over to Kestral. “What do you want to know about?”

Kestral shrugged. “Witchers in general. I've never heard of them before, and you guys seem pretty interesting to me.”

“Color me surprised.” He said flatly. “Most know of our work. We hunt monsters. Ya'know. Demons, spirits, ghouls, zombies, vampires, golems, manifestations. You name it. If it has dark magic involved, we know how to kill it.”

“Wow.” Kestral said, taking in the implications. “Must be a pretty busy life.”

“To be honest.” He said. “It's not really that busy. Most of the creatures we hunt are held up in Death Circle. Any of them out here are usually created by accident, or were made by an amateur mage. Still, a couple of things, like an ursa, wander around here naturally, so we often get a good test of skill.”

“Well, good job security, I suppose. But what's Death Circle?”

“It's a circle of land, directly south of the Badlands, segregated from all other countries in the world. It's where the witchers reside, and the whole place is covered in a perpetual shield. Nothing can get in or out except through the training grounds itself.” He explained. “Most of the creatures we fight are held there, to prevent an outbreak.”

“I thought you said you guys killed them?” Kestral asked.

“We do.” He said. “But some of them we either can't, or aren't willing. An alpha vampire is a tough nut to crack, and some demons take a lake of holy water just to keep them down. Some require dark magic to banish or kill, and the number of lives it takes to do that is far more than we're willing to even think about.”

Wow.... guess I’m not the only one crawling around in the dark. Kestral thought. “So, if you don't mind my asking, what's the job your on around here?” He asked.

At that time, Barkeep walked by, giving the stallion an entire bottle of whiskey, before going back to the pile of glasses at the end of the bar. He opened the large bottle, and took a swig of it before he answered. “One of the nobles is asking me to 'demon-proof' her home. She's probably just paranoid, 'cause of the changelings, but it's not my place to say.”

“Really?” He asked. “How does one demon-proof a house?”

He took another gulp of the strong liquid. “The usual stuff is to put devil traps and salt lines at the entrances, keep holy water in stock, and memorize the exorcism to banish the demon. Simple stuff, but nobles like having someone to blame if it somehow goes wrong.”

“That...” Kestral started. “...that's actually pretty simple sounding. Is there a way I can learn more? 'Cause this is pretty interesting.”

“Nowhere around here.” he said. “Most libraries refuse to have anything about witchers due to...'controversial'... content. We have books you can get from the training grounds, but by then you might as well just learn from teachers there.”

“Damn.” Kestral said. “Guess I’ll just have to visit and learn more.”

The stallion's eyes looked over Kestral again, more curiously this time. “You have no idea how rare it is to hear that about us.” He looked back to his drink. “But, go ahead. If you want to practice anything there, though, bring your own silver and salt, cause they charge two front legs for anything they have to supply.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

He shrugged. “Why are you interested, anyway?” He asked. “Most wouldn't want to come within a mile of us, unless they need us.”

“'Cause it's something new.” Kestral replied. “Well, an awful lot of things are new for me these days... but mostly it was just that everyone else seems to avoid you, and I was wondering why.”

“Daring to go where no one else will is a good trait.” He remarked. “Whether you train for being a witcher or not, that is a good trait. Use it well.”

He nodded as the stallion looked around. Before Kestral could speak up again, the stallion focused on something behind them, and cut him off.

“Look, sorry to cut this short, but my employer is here, so I’ll need to speak to her.”

He just nodded, and got up, leaving his drink. He walked away from the stallion, brushing by a mare in a frilly outfit as he did. He continued on his way, idly wondering if he should join the game of blackjack again, but decided against it as he passed. He exited the building, getting into the cool breeze, letting the air breathe into the gaps in his clothing.

I wonder if I can find that guild.

Kestral would have called the north side of the lower district dead, but...

...'dead' was far too much of an understatement.

The wind howled like a raging predator, uncontrolled by the teams of pegasai that apparently took much better care of the rest of the city. His coat blew back, pulling him ever so slightly across the cobblestone. All around him were aged and broken houses, crippled through the trial of time. 'House' was a generous term for many of them, as many appeared to be more like apartments, filled to the brim with beds, or stacks of hay.

He saw the occasional lonely soul walking around, beating against the wind just to stand, but never for too long. Many were on their way to some unknown destination, but he couldn't follow quickly enough from the alleyway he was in to keep up.

He wanted to throw on his disguise and just find someone to ask where everyone was going, but he felt it was risky to do that in thieves territory. Anyone could have been watching him, and he wouldn't have known. They were, after all, criminals, and were probably far more skilled in stealth than him.

Kestral stood out from the end of the alley, looking around the street, trying to find someone -anyone- on the road. For some reason, not even the guards were roaming about. It was almost as if they avoided the place.

“Get back here, you FILTHY VERMIN!!”

A second later, Kestral realized they may just be too busy.

“And give me back my helmet!”

He watched as a thin mare ran south down the street, with three guards on her tail, sporting a golden helmet on her head. The group quickly disappeared, making him wonder if they were going to come back any time soon.

He stuck his head out of the alley, looking for any sign of life again. He didn't see any, but he did see something else; A clock tower. It wasn't the tall, massive tower he met Luna in, but it was definitely higher up than the surrounding area. One look from up there ought to show him where all the citizens were going.

With the road clear, he bolted across to the next alley, silently praying that a stray guard didn't spot him. He ran down the path, his boots loudly stomping against the stone as he did. He neared the clock tower, slowing his pace. As he closed in on the tower, he spotted another group of guards sprinting across the open street. He jumped behind the corner of an apartment, and waited a moment.

He stuck his head out, ensuring a lack of legal enforcers, before he burst across the road. He got to the side of the tower, and twisted the doorknob hard, only to find it locked. He quickly made his lock-picking materials appear, and began to work immediately.

After a minute, the lock clicked, and the door partially opened, but jammed on something. He had another look around to ensure he was not being watched, and held his leg up against the door, gauging how hard his kick should be. He slammed his boot against the wood, and the door swung open just enough for him to slip through.

He entered the stale room, his boots wiping away the layers of dust that must have taken years to build up. He went to the side of the building, and ran up the set of stairs. Each step caused an eery creak, which he could hear rather well, in spite of the howling wind outside.

CREEEEAAAAAAKKK

Kestral stopped, and whirled around. One of those creaks was off beat from his footsteps, and it was not under his own feet, either. He peered around the room, trying to see in the dark, with only the distant moonlight to help illuminate it. He couldn't see anything, so he slowly ascended the stairs, still facing the lower floor.

I'm not alone in here...

Once he was up the stairs, he moved towards the window along the side. He loudly shoved the window open, and jumped out, hanging on the ledge. With his little decoy done, he teleported back near the stairs, behind the rail. He magically removed his boots, hoping it would reduce noise somewhat, and teleported a second time to the very back of the rail, straight behind where anyone would face going up the stairs.

He crouched down and watched, waiting for some figure to walk up. He heard the creaking again, and a quadruped hastily made its way up the stairs. As it reached the top, he teleported closer to the front of the rail, behind a wood box, and looked from around the corner. The figure got close to the window, close enough to stick its head out. It had a coat covering its body, but he could be certain it was a quadruped.

As it stuck its head out, perhaps checking for where Kestral had gone, Kestral pulled out his knife, and teleported. The figured gasped as he gently wrapped an arm around its throat, moving the knife where the figure could see it. “Nice view, isn't it?” He asked.

The figure refused to speak. Kestral used his telekinesis to pull the hood back, revealing the dark blue head of a female earth pony. To her credit, she didn't flinch at all.

“So, what is it that you want?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” She said.

He sighed, moving the knife a little closer to her neck. “I want to know where everyone is. Maybe where I can find the thieves guild, too.”

“No one finds the guild. The guild finds you.” She proclaimed proudly.

“Oh really?” He asked. “Well, you found me. Congrats, I suppose. Do you want a medal?” Kestral eased on his grip, letting her head free, but still pointed the knife in her direction, just in case.

She turned around to face him, slowly, and looked up to him with scowling eyes. “We thieves do not care for medals. We're more interested in money. Like the bounty on your head.”

“Heh.” He chuckled. “So you're interested in the thousand on my head?”

“Only the guards have a thousand on your head. There are nobles that have upwards of three thousand on you. Triple, if we get you alive.”

He smiled, lowering his knife a bit. “It's nice to know that I’m loved so much.” He feigned reminiscence. “But you're not going to turn me in.”

“And why is that?” She asked.

“Because I’m going to offer my services to you.”

She stared at him, somewhat dumfounded. “What?”

“Honest.” He said, lowering his knife completely. “In exchange for something, of course.”

She scowled at him again. “What is it that you want?”

“Right now? Assistance.”

“Assistance with what?” She pressed.

“Depends. I might need help finding certain objects of my interest, or just someone to distract a guard. I guess you could say our cooperation would be more like... a continual exchange of favors.”

She looked at him in pensive thought, with the gears in her head trying to crank out a response. She began walking towards the stairs. “You stay right here. I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Kestral asked.

“To talk to the boss. And you stay right there. If you move an inch, any deal we have will be off.”

Kestral nodded, and watched as the mare disappeared, leaving him alone in the moonlight. He took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning against the sill. He recognized what he was going to have to do.

He was going to play the waiting game.

He prepared himself as he heard the creaking of the stairs again. It wasn't the long, soft creaking of someone trying to sneak up to him, but was short, forceful, loud creaking of someone trying to get up to him at a reasonable pace. He watched as the mare from before trotted up the stairs, along with two other mares behind her. He could only barely make out their faces in the darkness.

The mare from before tossed him a long piece of cloth. “The boss wants to speak to you personally. Put this on.”

Kestral smiled at her, and began walking down the stairs, ponies in tow. “Thanks, but I’ll get outside first. Don't want to lose my footing at the top of the steps.”

Once he was at the bottom, he went ahead and tied the blindfold around his head, leaving it to the three around him to guide him.

“This way.” Said the leading mare.

Kestral followed to the left, listening to the clopping of hooves to unsure he wasn't going off track. The boots he wore clacked loudly on the stone, occasionally stepping on other materials littered on the ground. The group kept walking, making a turn every now and again. He refused to walk in silence, though.

“So how are you guys? Everything good?”

“Yeah, pretty good.”

“Great, actually.” Lefty and Righty spoke up.

“Shut the fuck up, you three.” The leading mare said.

“Oh, come on, Sliver.” The one on his left said. “If I’m going to work with the guy, I want to know what he's like.”

The leading mare, apparently named Sliver, replied in a steady voice. “Boss'll make an offer, this idiot'll make a shitty counter-offer, and he'll be booted out faster than he can ask why.”

“You seem so confidant that your boss will hate me.” Kestral said. “It's not my hair, is it? Or the lack of?”

“Ooohhhh.” Lefty said. “She's just hurt on the whole 'master thief' claim back in Ponyville.”

“Ha!” He laughed. “Really? She feels sore over me saying two little words? That ego must be build like a soap bubble- OWW!” Kestral rubbed the spot on his head that was pelted with a rock.

“I told you all to can it.” She said. “We're here.”

He smiled. “Can I take my blindfold off now?”

“No.” Sliver said.

“Oh come on. I just want to see again.”

She didn't answer to him.

They continued walking, and Kestral started hearing voices, and the clopping of more hooves. Gradually, more and more people were around him. He could hear low whispers turn into loud conversation, at least until the speakers had presumably spotted the human walking onto the premises. The wind died off, letting him know that he was either inside, or beside a building.

Eventually, they came to a stop. Wherever he was must have been full of people, because he could hear all kinds of conversation happening. Kids were playing around somewhere, giggling to some song, while plenty of adults stood around, making idle chatter.

“Now, may I take off the blindfold?” Kestral asked.

“You may.” Said a gruff, commanding voice.

Kestral slid off the cloth, tossing it to Sliver, and took a good look around.

People, mostly ponies but with handfuls of each of any other species he had seen before, piled in the area, waiting for their turn at large carts of bread. Other vegetables and fruits were in smaller carts after the bread, with mares standing, asking everyone to only take their share. A cart full of fish was set further back, with both griffons and felis surrounding it. A lone dragon, about the size of a pony, casually chewed on a massive emerald in the corner. Many of the people were eying him, but no one ran or hid from him.

He looked to the side to see a group giving out glasses of clean water, with one of them being yelled at for having spilled a glass. Behind the group was at least ten barrels, with a few setting further back by themselves, presumably empty.

He looked up to see that he was not inside a building. Instead, a large tarp covered the stone courtyard nearly contained by the 'C' shaped building.

He finished looking around, and looked ahead. Just before him was an old, wooden chair. It was in front of a desk, covered in maps, notes, letters, and graphs, with a few feather pens and inkwells. He sat down in the chair, looking at the leather-covered stallion sitting behind the desk. He heard Sliver clear her throat behind him.

“Did he ask you to sit down?” She asked, venom in her voice.

Kestral held his fist up, with his middle finger standing alone, aimed behind him. He didn't even turn to her. “Did I ask you to throw a rock at my face?” He asked.

“Well you shouldn't go arou-”

“That's enough, Sliver.” The stallion said.

“But he-”

“Enough, Sliver.”

She groaned, walking off towards some large doors at one side of the courtyard. Kestral watched her walk away, then centered his attention on the stallion.

The stallion stood up and leaned over his desk, extending a hoof out to Kestral. “Name's Dust, and I run the thieves guild.”

Kestral matched his gesture, giving a firm shake. “Kestral Petrovski, recently accomplished thief.” They sat down.

“I've heard.” He said as-a-matter-of-fact. “I've also heard that you kill changelings.”

Kestral shrugged. “Only the ones that are willing to kill innocents. Or are a part of this new faction of changelings that are rising. To-ma-to to-mo-to.”

“Interesting.” Dust said, leaning back a bit. “Those are really the only ones?”

“Really truly. All the ones I've killed had replaced someone and was sucking the life out of them.”

“You mean love?” He corrected.

“No. Life.”Kestral said. “They were doing some new spell that lets them evade the guard's magic. They get to wear their skin, but it slowly kills the victim in the process.”

Dust nodded. “That's.... interesting.” He said carefully. “And, if you found a changeling that was not a killer.... what would you do?”

Kestral shrugged. “Let him go? It's not like changelings are inherently evil, or something.” He said. “I'm just picking off the murderers of the bunch. The rest can go frolic in a field of roses, as far as I care.” He paused a moment. “Why, uh... why do you care about that bit, anyway?”

“I like knowing who I’m dealing with.” He said. “But enough on that. Let's talk about what kind of deal you're wanting.”

Kestral hiked one leg over the other, paying close attention. “Sure. Where do you want me to start?”

Dust leaned over the table, listening intently. “I assume you already have a deal thought out. Just tell me the whole thing, and we'll negotiate from there. But-” He warned. “-you should know right now; We get the lion's share of the gold.”

Kestral gesture all around him. “So you can fund all of your....dependents.” He nodded. “I figured.”

“Good. So, what's your deal?” He asked.

“Okay. So, here's what I need.” Kestral said. “I'm looking for these little pieces of... jewelry, I guess. They're these colored stone eggs, with four legs holding them up, usually golden or silvery. The stone egg part can be green, blue, yellow, and gray.” He readjusted his legs into a more comfortable position. “So here's the deal. You help me get those, and I’ll help you with heists.”

“Really?” Dust asked. “And how do I know you'll hold up your end of the deal?”

“Easy.” Kestral said. “I'll complete my end of the deal first, then you complete yours. In fact, we can cut it up into set amounts. Say, every ten thousand bits I turn in to you, you get me the location of an egg.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That actually sounds quite reasonable. But ten thousand seems low.” He waved a hoof. “How about twelve?”

He hummed for a moment. “Twelve... and you help me find good places to hit.”

Dust nodded. “Sounds decent.” He mulled over the information for a moment. He got up from his seat. “Is that all you need? Twelve thousand to us, then one egg to you? And we help you find decent targets?”

Kestral nodded, standing up as well.

“Sounds like a deal.” He extended his arm for a shake.

“Deal.” He stuck out his arm as well, giving a firm shake.

“In fact,” Dust said, looking over one of the maps on his table. “I think I have a target for you already.”

“Sure.” Kestral said. “ Just tell me where.”

“Well, Kestral....” Dust said.

“....Does the name 'Blueblood' ring a bell?”