Author's Notes:

Welp. Have a good read. I'll be taking a small hiatus, but as slow as I write these days, you guys may not notice a difference.

In any case, this chapter felt awkward, so I'm just putting it out here and moving on.

Kestral snapped into an upright position, having momentarily forgotten the events the night before. He stumbled off the couch, accidentally trampling over the three books he had read through earlier that mornings. He quickly gathered the books -Aquamancy, Garden Growing, and Gravitational Adhesion- and packed them into his rift. Now that he was done with them, he could toss them away.... maybe throw them at guards to piss them off.....

Suddenly, he remembered why he had jumped out of his sleeping spot so haphazardly. He stood up, partially excited, partially prideful of his idea. He gathered his things, threw on his disguise, and ran to the door. He placed a hand on the handle, but realized he almost forgot to do the one thing he had meant to do.

He pulled out his cloth compass, and tapped it, quickly stowing it away again. As he waited, he pulled out a hefty sack of gold, ready to be emptied in a moment's notice.

The silence of the room was broken by the extended yawn of Discord's waking breath, which really brought into question how the wizard could even yawn without use of his lungs, or fall asleep without the biological need for it.

Maybe telepathy was just weird like that.

“Hello Kestral.” A sluggish voice greeted him. “It's been a while. How's that last family doing?”

“Oh, well.” He leaned against the wall, finding a comfortable position. “Pretty good, as far as I can tell. I overheard an intended target, so I was going to stalk them later today. Make sure they're making use of that warning I gave them last night.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice suddenly taking a sober tone. “That's good. I'll assume you're meaning to intercept the changelings?” He asked.

“Yeah. Whenever dinnertime rolls around. But it's a big 'maybe'. There's a decent chance that I already killed them last night, but it never hurts to be sure.” He said, keeping his current intentions in the back of his mind.

“Well, that's decent.” Kestral heard a set of knuckles suddenly crack. “But I suppose you didn't call me for chit-chat, did you?”

“Of course. Business before pleasantries.” Was his only answer.

“Ah, well. At least the other one tries to keep me entertained with his stories. Really, you humans are just so exotic in your schools of thought.” He trailed off, but came back to his point. “Now, what is it that you actually need of me.”

“Not much really.” Kestral said. He held out the bag of gold his his hand, as if he was offering it to the air. “But I came up with something that would help me get away with teleporting without letting my secret out.”

“Really?” He asked, intrigued. “I didn't really take you as a tactical schemer, but go ahead. Tell me what you have planned.”

“Okay. So all I need are a bunch of smoke-bombs that I can just throw on the ground and obscure everything. Basically, what I'm going to do is throw one down after I get seen, and teleport out of there. That way, there's no chase. I just hide for a bit, or bail out like nothing happened.”

“That's awfully specific. All those beautiful smoke-bombs, just for escapes?” He asked, sounding offended.

“Well, no.” He continued. “I could toss it at places I want to go to, of course. Drop in, steal something, kill someone, drop out with the proof, and it's all just confusion. Or, you know, I could just purposely fuck shit up. Cause some chao-”

“Now that is an idea I like!” Discord exclaimed.

Suddenly, the weight of the gold was lifted, and replaced with the heavier weight of another bag. He opened the much larger bag to find it full to the brim with metallic orbs. Each ball was about two thirds the width of his hand, making it clear that each were meant to be handled one at a time, rather than a group thrown together. In spite of the metallic look, they were light, and seemed to be full of some kind of liquid.

“Now, believe it or not, I had actually come up with a solution for similar problems a long time ago. What you see in front of you is one of my own inventions! Perfect for all of your non-magic, obscuring needs. Just smash it against something, and vision is as good as gone.”

“Perfect.” He said, turning over the orb to get a good look. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you already had this planned ahead.”

“Well, it was going to be a gift, but you insisted.” Discord gave a chuckle. “I hope you really did plan on spreading some chaos today.”

“Well, nothing major.” He replied, putting the bombs in his rift. “But I read some of the books last night, and I wanted some practice. Plus, I still haven't really tried too many of my other spells out in the field yet. So, this afternoon I'm just going to go mess with people. Spill a few drinks, cause a few fights, that sort of stuff.”

“Sounds fun.” He said. “I just might have to watch.”

“Feel free.” He stated. “Maybe give me a few prank ideas. It'll be fun.”

“It certainly will.” He said.

The voice disappeared, but Kestral had a creeping feeling that Discord was still there, watching whatever he had planned. He opened the door, walking out into the cool, still air, and closed it again. With a smile on his face, he walked off into the busy street, ready to take on whatever self-imposed challenge he was about to create.

The Prancing Posies.

Kestral read the name, looking over the posh building as he did. It was made of marble, mostly. The black and white color scheme was improved by the occasional beige or crimson decoration. Nobles , who wore even more elaborate and prestigious-looking clothing than usual, lounged around at the few tables placed outside. A few of them gave a sideways glance towards him, then began hushed conversation, but most just went back to their own conversations.

He approached the well-dressed mare at the front, who, while shorter than most ponies, seemed to hold her head higher than most as well. She took a silent, almost invisible breath, before she spoke to him in an elegant, yet firm, tone. “Good afternoon, sir.” She said. “Are you a walk-in, or on reservation?”

“A walk-in, ma'am.” He said back. “And I'm eating alone.” He eyed the waitress as she took a menu from behind her podium, and signaled for him to follow.

“If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your seat.” She said.

He entered, passively going over the whole scene. Tables were set in a very precise grid format, covered with black and white table covers in a fashion that resembled a chessboard. Potted plants were placed along the walls, giving the inside a more lively feeling. Instead of the crystal lights that most restaurants had, each of the tables simply hosted a large, bright candle. There were four chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, but they seemed to be there more as decoration, than actual lighting.

They moved along to a section of smaller tables, with only about a third of them filled. They stopped at a table close to the wall. There were ponies seated all around him, giving him plenty of targets for shenanigans. Oddly enough, a large chunk of the tables, at the other side, had no customers whatsoever. He assumed it was restricted due to reduced staff.

She pulled out a short chair from the table, offering him the seat, and laid the menu on the top. She gave a curt bow, and a sure smile, doing everything she can to seem courteous. “You're server will be here in a moment.” She said. “We hope you have a fine lunch here at The Prancing Posies.” She turned and walked away, a content smile on her face as she went.

He sat down as she left, and began thumbing through the menu. He idly looked over the vast amount of salads and sandwiches, neither of which had any meat. To him, the restaurant seemed to appeal to herbivores significantly. It mattered little to him, though. He could get meat from just about anywhere else.

“Hello, sir.” A masculine voice said. Kestral looked up from his menu to see a stallion placing a bowl of bread on his table, along with a stick of butter on a clay plate. He finished off by setting a crystal clear glass of water in front of him. “Do you know what you'd like to drink?”

“I'll just have some water, thank you.” He said. Before he forgot, he also added a question. “By the way; Is the bread wheat?”

“Yes, sir!” He said in a chipper voice. “One hundred percent wheat. Complimentary with any meal, too. Now, are you finished looking through the menu?” He asked.

“I'm still looking, but thanks.” He replied.

“No worries!” The stallion smiled. “I'll check back in a few minutes, give you some more time to look. If you need me, just flag me down. My name's Silver Platter.”

Kestral nodded as the colt walked away. He took a quick look around, trying to take in all the details of his surroundings. Several of the tables around him contained trios of ponies, mostly mares, and the rest were in pairs. Near him, on the wall, was a stout shrubbery, perfect for practicing his new power over vegetation. There was only one table between him and the bush, so he formed a plan in his mind to achieve his goal of shenanigans.

He took a piece of bread, smeared a little butter on it, released the jaw of his mask, and began breaking it apart and eating it by pieces. A few glances came his way, but they shot back once he returned them.

With the image of the next table memorized, he began working on growing that shrubbery. The book had covered that, not only was he capable of forcefully growing vegetation by 'feeding' it mana, per se, but he was also able to make them grow in a certain direction or pattern. Heck, it even said he could reshape it as it was. Fortunately -or not so much, depending on the viewpoint- unless the plant actually had the nutrients it needed to grow, or at least access to it in the soil, it would revert back to its original, albeit misshapen, state rather quickly.

Without looking at his target, he began to force just a small branch to bend down towards the ground. It continued to grow out at his will. After a minute or so, the thin, creeping branch reached across the carpet, and showed its leaves from under the long tablecloth. He saw it after taking a quick peek, then made it go back under.

As he idly ate his supply of bread away, he willed the branch to move its end to just under the chair of a pompous mare. He spotted the branch, and made it stop. Then, he concentrated as hard as he could, making the branch sprout into more branches, with more leaves. It kept getting thicker and thicker, until it all couldn't fit just under the chair. He allowed it to spill out some, and stored must of the manufactured foliage under behind the tablecloth.

When he was content with the sheer volume of vegetation, he stopped growing it, and sent it up. He made sure not to watch at first, just in case he himself was being watched. The roots shot up and around the torso of the mare, securing her to her seat.

She gave a loud squeal, attracting the attention of several onlookers. Murmurs and whispers increased, as more eyes stared at the quickly growing supply of vegetation surrounded her. He caved in, and looked, smiling as he did.

The mare became suspended, as the branches left the chair entirely, and lifted her up. Other branches popped out, as Kestral became creative, and grabbed her limbs. By now, the majority of the room was looking, a few with worried faces, but mostly confused.

“H- hey! What're you doing?!” She yelled.

Her limbs were forcefully set on the table, in a pose that seemed to show off her dress. Except, the mare in question was stressing out. Now that he had the room's attention, though, he moved on to the next segment of his plan.

Dancing.

“What's it doing?!”

The mare was set on her back hooves, with her front hooves held behind her head. The branches faced her towards the wall, and shook her hips at a moderate speed. It began tapping her hoof for her, keeping a steady beat. Her friend started to snicker, causing more of the other customers to smile and snicker, perhaps thinking it was planned.

“This isn't funny, Singer!” She yelled. “Stop this thing!”

“PPFFFFFT!” Her friend -Singer- broke out into joyous laughter. “I- I don't know what's happening, b-but I like it!” She exclaimed. She cleared the table with her magic, then jumped up with her friend, striking a similar pose before she mimicked the motions.

“Seriously, I don't like this!” The mare yelled once again.

The mares friend took control, grabbing her friend, and began to sing a tune. Kestral just made the branches go whichever way her friend seemed to want them to go. For some reason, he knew it was about to be entertaining.

“Now, my dear friend~

Haven't I told youuuuu~

To be a little looser~

To be a little sprucer~”

She did a twirl around her friend, then held her in a one-leg hug.

“To have a little fun in the sun~

Now, my dear friend~

Didn't I tell youuuuu~

To have a better smile~

To walk the extra mile~”

She started leading her friend in a little step-step-twirl pattern, making the dance seem to come second to the singing.

“You want to see the world out there, but no matter what you do~

The best way to see the woooooooooorld~

Is to let the woooooorrrlld~

Look baaaaack~

At yooouuuuuuuuuuuu~”

Kestral just became confused, and even more so when other ponies joined in, and a server pulled a map out of nowhere. The branches weren't even doing anything, and broke off as they continued to do some kind of indescribable dance to some tune that was playing from nowhere.

“Now, my little sweetie, I know you may not need me~

But I just want you to know~

That you- and I- are best of friend~

And I'll go wherever you go~

We'll stay together~

Two friends that're tethered~

I'll help you ev'ry step of the way~

But if you want me to stay, you just have to say~

But look, little lady~

You should know, maybe~

The best way to see the woooooooooorld~

Is to let the woooooorrrlld~

Look baaaaack~

At yooouuuuuuuuuuuu~”

At this point, Kestral wanted to join in. Maybe he could find someone to teach him impromptu song and dance?

“In Griffonia~

Equestria~

Aquara~

Ev'n the Badlands~

There just isn't a place that just isn't so grand~

But you can't shut it away~

When you don't get your way~

You have to open your heart~

And with all that you are~

Show your very best~

No matter what kinda mess~

You're iiiiiiinnnn~”

She took a deep breath, making a big show of it.

“Because the best way to see the woooooorld~

Is to let the wooooorld~

See the beeeeeeeeeest~

Of yooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu~”

A short silence ensued, followed by applause from the whole restaurant. Everyone that wasn't part of the ten or so that were singing or dancing was stomping or clopping hooves. Singer took a bow, and jumped off the table, helping her blushing friend down.

The weird thing was that everyone seemed to go directly back to what they were doing. It was as if nothing happened. They even seemed to completely ignore the now-shrinking branches that had grabbed her earlier.

“Well, then.” He said aloud, astonished at how the events proceeded. “That certainly happened.”

“Never seen ponies bust out in song before?” A familiar voice asked.

“Huh?” Kestral turned to see an ash gray stallion with charcoal hair. The stallion was standing at the other end of the table, along with one of his mares. Well. I guess I’ll be too busy to start a fight. Darn it. He stood up, trying to seem respectful. “Oh. Mister Press.” He nodded. “And.....er...” The mare's name fell from his mind.

“Wine Press.” She chipped in, holding her smile.

“Right. The top missus. My apologies.” He extended a hand, greeting them both warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well.” Printing said. “I believe we had unfinished from last night, and I happened to have seen you while walking in here for lunch.” He gestured to the table. “Do you mind if we discuss over a meal with you?”

“Not at all.” He said, sitting down. “Feel free to eat with me. Company is always good.”

They did. Wine took the seat opposite of Kestral, while Printing took the seat on his right. Each were given a menu by the greeter, but kept most of their attention on him. “I don't mean to sound rude, but you never did answer my question earlier.” Printing said.

“Right.” Kestral said, putting his menu down. “Well, no. I've never seen ponies 'bust out in song' before. Is it normal?”

“Absolutely.” Wine said, trying to stay relevant to the conversation. She grabbed some bread, and helped herself. “It happens frequently, actually. Statistically, there are at least two in the city every day.”

“Really?” He asked. “And... they just... 'happen'?” His curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Sort of.” Printing said. “It really requires the right atmosphere, but, yeah. Ponies break out into song and dance pretty naturally.”

“Wow. Must be pretty nice.” He commented, idly looking at the pair of mares at the next table over. They were talking pretty excitedly, something to do with 'finding a good stallion' and 'traveling the world' and 'joining the mile high club'.

Maybe he heard a little too much.

He looked back over to the two in front of him. “I just had a thought.” He said. “Do either of you two know what happened last night, at the party?”

“You don't know?” Printing asked, setting down his menu. “A changeling dropped dead in the middle of the party. Nearly everyone agrees it was the human again, but what's concerning is how silent the guards are about this attack.”

“Wow. Really?” He asked. “I had no idea. Everyone just started rushing outside, so I went with. From there, a guard told me to scram, so I did.” He added, under his breath; “That's would explain the weird stuff.”

“Weird stuff?” Printing asked. “May I ask what?”

“Nothing I could have cared about at the time.” He started. “When I was on the second floor with my friend, I noticed that all the candles in the hallway were put out. Someone had closed the curtains, too. It left the whole floor pretty dark.”

“Really?” He asked. “Did you see anything? Hear unusual noises?”

“Well.” He let his voice lower to a volume only loud enough for the three of them to hear. “I couldn't hear a thing over all the moaning, to be honest.”

“Well.” Printing mimicked. “With six mares to myself, I'm inclined to agree.”

The two shared a small laugh, though Kestral's was fairly hollow.

“Ughhh. Heat is just the worst....” Printing muttered.

At that moment, the long awaited waiter came by their table, setting some more bread down. “Are you all ready to order?” He asked.

“I am.” Kestral said.

“I'm ready.” Wine agreed.

“As well as I.” Printing said.

“That's great!” The stallion said. He took out a notepad and pencil from his vest pocket, and looked at Printing. “Let's start with you.” He grabbed the pencil with his mouth.

The three rattled off their order, along with the Press' drinks, given they hadn't ordered any yet. Silver Platter took it all in quickly, before he escaped behind the double doors to the kitchen again.

“So.” Kestral said. “You said you had some kind of offer last night?”

The smile on Printing's features didn't waver, leading anyone to believe that he had no less satisfaction in making deals than, say, having a nice lunch with a new acquaintance. “Yes. I felt it was necessary to offer you a sum of money, in exchange for the story behind the letters to and from her majesty, Luna.”

Kestral was silent for a moment, taking in what he had heard. Wow. He thought. That's some real blunt bribery right there. Not even trying to disguise it? In public? He shook his head steadily. “I'm sorry, Mr. Press. But I just can't take an offer like that.”

Printing raised an eyebrow. “You haven't even heard the amount I'm offering.” He said. “Five thousand bits, in any form you'd like.”

He looked at Wine, who only nodded in agreement; Then, back to Printing, and retorted. “I'm sorry, Mr. Press, but as generous as that offer is, I cannot take up on it.”

Kestral saw the reaction, but only barely. If he had paid any less attention, he would have missed the corner of Printing's smile lower slightly. Or, perhaps, the fact that his ear twitched, or that his eyes darted the smallest of distances. Yes, Printing was not expecting 'no' for an answer, given how generous his offer was.

“Well. Like I had said before. Everyone has their price. For some, it's no equivalent of money.” He paused. “Surely there's something else I can have done? I have friends in high places, you know. If it's good enough, I might even get you a week on a luxury airship. I can help settle an old debt, if you need.”

“Really.” Kestral said. “The notion is... appreciated. But, I'd rather keep my customers happy. I'm sure you understand.” He paused. “In all honestly, though, when you said you had an offer, I thought you were just wanting to use my services.”

“Oh, dear. I apologize for the confusion.” Printing said. “But... anyways.” He waved his hoof. “We'll find another day to discuss this, maybe?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Press, but trust is something that takes years to build. I can't destroy it now.” He said. “I'd like to help you get a story, but my clients come first.”

Printing nodded, though he lost his smile as he did. “Very well. But, truly, if you find yourself in a good story, and want to run it by me, I can get you some income.”

“I'll try to keep that in mind.” He replied.

The conversation between Printing and Kestral came to a lull. At this point, Wine decided that she wanted to enter it. “So, Hunter.” She said, grabbing their attention. “Who's this 'friend' you were with on the second floor?” She finished her sentence by wiggling her eyebrows a bit.

“No one, really.” He said. “Just a griffon friend I wanted to talk to.”

“Sweetie.” Printing cooed. “I don't think it's appropriate to ask of his 'relations'.” He put extra emphasis on the word, letting her know what he really meant. “You're not even drinking, yet.”

“Oh, hush. If he doesn't want to answer, he doesn't have to.” She said. She turned back to Kestral. “So, what's it like? I heard griffons were all squeamish in bed.”

A few ponies looked at her in offense, then seemed to stick their noses a little higher in the air. Wine probably didn't care, but her stallion sure did.

“Sweetie, really. Last night was a party, what he did was none of our business. At least ask him in a more private place.”

Yeah. Kestral thought. Like bribing a courier for recipients' names is any better.... No, wait. I get it. Printing here goes for the big game money-makers, while Wine goes for rumors and stuff. I need to be more careful of what I say around them.

His back stiffened slightly, hoping to grab their attention with the gesture. When the two were looking at him in silence, he spoke. “With all due respect, Mrs. Press, all that happened between she and I was conversation. We went upstairs, because people kept interrupting us.”

“Whatever you say, thick stuff.” She gave a wink, and a giggle, letting their own conversation die. She must have been either oblivious, or apathetic, because Printing was giving her a look of frustration at her words.

Kestral cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “So, Mr. Press.” He started. “I'm still fairly new around here. Are there any places around here that I should visit the first chance I get?”

Judging by Printing's reaction, he asked the right question. The smile on the colts face let him know that he enjoyed talking about that subject.

And talking was just what Printing planned to do.

Thank god. I'd thought he'd never shut up. He thought.

Printing was quite eager to talk nearly the entire time, with only minimal input from Kestral. His knowledge of the area was ...extensive. He knew of different places of entertainment, mostly. There was a small sports complex on the southern side of the business district, with lots of trainers in sports that he had never heard of before. Then there was a stage theater somewhere near it, letting rising actors show off their stuff. Among other things, there was a night club, where he could 'go be socially promiscuous'.

Whatever the hell that meant.

In any case, Kestral decided he was bored. He only walked a short distance, though, before he spotted a place of interest.

A small building snuggled itself between a dress store named 'Fashion' and a building hosting yoga classes. He passed under the sign that humbly said 'coffee' as he entered. Once he walked it, he realized what kind of coffee shop it was.

Art hung about the room, a few of them with price tags. All the color in the room brought the room alive, and yet, it somehow gave him the feeling of discontent, and general contempt. Ponies filled the room, most of them seeming to be just under adult age. Some of them didn't even hide their faces of disdain towards him. Most of them wore slim vests or dresses, several even with presumably fake glasses. Artists. He thought. And not the pretentious, high-class, selling crap for one-million-of-every-currency artists, or the low-class, humble, just-starting-to-make-a-decent-living artists. These were the pretentious, middle-class, care-free, think-they-are-always-right, nothing-is-good-enough artists, who, while maybe twenty percent of which have actual talent, the other eighty percent cling to things such as 'abstract' art out of simple refusal or inability to advance, or become 'critics', and use it to hide their lack of skill.

The perfect place to be a complete dick to everyone in the room.

Or he could be wrong. Equestrian culture might have a better take on how the arts are treated, and how the artists treat non-artists. Judging by the looks he was getting, though, he was dead-on.

“Hi, there!” A chipper, female voice greeted him at the counter, setting in the front corner of the room. As he approached, her words only seemed to get sweeter. “Feel free to sit where you'd like. Just remember that you order up here!”

He nodded, looking at the large silver barrel behind it. It was scorched on the lower end, due to the fire set under it. The boiling barrel had a dripping nozzle into a small vat, which extended over several pots of coffee, with an attachment above each pot, turning water into coffee before it drips into the containers. To the side were several sweets, though most of them seemed to be a form of doughnut. A stack of newspapers sat at the side of the counter.

He nodded, and started to get bits from his robe. “Yes, I'll have a cup of coffee, please. Black.” He said.

“Can I offer you any sugar? Maybe some whipped cream?” She asked.

“No, thanks.” He said, leaning down to grab a newspaper. “I'll take one of these, though.”

She nodded, going to one of the pots of coffee. “Coming right up!”

He watched her do some kind of little dance to some tune she was humming. She slid the steaming cup of coffee to him, not spilling a single drop the whole way, before she tapped on the cash register a few times. “Is that all?” She asked.

“Actually....” He said, spotting a massive, gooey slice of pie. “I think I'll take that apple pie.”

“Alright!” She said, and grabbed the pie, setting it on a clay plate with a fork. “Is that it?”

“Yep. That's it.” He replied.

“Okay, your total is twelve bits.” She said. “Refills are two bits each, and toppings are one to two bits per cup if you ever want them.”

He put the bits on the counter, and dropped a few extra in the tip jar at the side. “Thank you.” He said. He grabbed his items and turned around, looking for a seat.

He spotted a particularly stuffy-looking group in the corner, with nine members in it. He pretended not to look at them, but he saw the blatant stare from several of its members, with one of them giving hushed whispers. When he scanned the room, he went to the table next to them. The mare talking about him went silent as he approached, but the less caring members continued talking. He sat down at the small table, opened his newspaper, and began listening to the group near him.

He couldn't make out coherent sentences at first, but he managed to pick up on words like 'bland' and 'ugly'. It didn't hurt his feelings, or anything, but he became more curious. He concentrated, and tried to listen in on their whispers.

“I wonder if he knows where he is.”

“Yeah, like, why is a guy like that doing here? This place is for cool people.”

“Is that the guy from the newspapers?”

“That mask is kinda cool. Needs more color. Do you think he messed up his face?”

“Pfft. As if. He's probably just ugly.”

The girls shared a snicker, and he turned his head to the group. “Excuse me?” He asked. The girls froze, and one of them went a little pale. After a good five seconds of simmering their fear, he spoke again. “Do any of you know what time it is?”

A couple of them broke into chortles of laughter, while the one that called him ugly seemed visibly thankful she was saved. “Y-yeah. It's just past two.” She said.

“Okay. Thank you, miss.” He said. He waited a moment, letting them settle, before he got her attention again. “Oh, and, miss?”

“Yeah?” She said, looking at him expectantly.

“Just some advice; You should talk quieter when calling me ugly.”

Her friends pointed and snickered at her, one of them letting out suppressed laughter, while she put her head down in defeat.

He chuckled, and looked at his newspaper again. He decided that he was actually curious on the stories that day.

“Human Strikes Again!” He read the title silently. “Last night, the Stormwall family had hosted a party for nobles and those of exceptional standing. As it turns out, the Stormwall's had been replaced by changelings, including their maid, Ms. Dust. The human had somehow assassinated all ten changelings without giving himself away, until the very last one, where he killed the final changeling with party-goers as witnesses.

It is currently believed the human has a unicorn accomplice, who is capable of pyromancy, and possibly launching projectiles at high speeds. In correlation with last week's theft at Canterlot Univer-” Blah blah blah blah. Nothing really new to add, really. Where's ….

There it is. “The guard is currently offering upwards of twelve thousand bits to anyone that can bring the human in alive, and three hundred bits for anyone that can provide useful information.”

He smiled at the sentence, swelling up with some pride. I wonder how high I can get the bounty. He thought.

He skimmed through the rest of the papers quickly, but saw nothing else of interest. Kestral lowered the jaw of the mask, and grabbed his cup of coffee with one hand. He moved it through the thin veil of cloth hanging down, and placed it against his lips, blowing on it a bit. He never really liked coffee, but he could stand it at least. At least the cup was small enough to fit where he could drink from it. He didn't want to have a hint of coffee with everything he drank.

He took a few gulps, and set the cup down, going back to the newspaper. He didn't read through it, though, but stole a few looks at the group next to him, with his partially limited peripheral vision.

He saw the mare who had been whispering things, probably about him. She had bleach-pail fur, with darker roots, and long, flowing, orange hair. She used her fur like a canvas, and had dyed it to show blue and red flower-shapes all over her. It went arguably well with her purple beret. He looked at the had for a few seconds more, before he smiled.

It was time to begin.

With his invisible magic, he caused the hat to spin around, roughing up her hair. Her head shot down, like it was dodging something.

“Hey!” She said, bringing the group's attention. She turned to the mare next to her, whom she had her back to not a moment before. She gave a firm hit in the mare's shoulder, making her wince.

“What was that for?” She asked, rubbing the spot.

“You messed with my hat!” She said. “And even worse; My hair! Why would you do that?”

“I didn't do squat!”

The mare Kestral picked on squinted at her, before the two turned away from eachother.

He let a good fifteen seconds pass, before he grabbed the hat with his magic, and forced it forward, slamming it in the face of the third mare of the group. The first mare gave another punch with her hoof at the second, while the third mare just looked at the two curiously.

“Why are you hitting me?!” She yelled, grabbing the attention of more than her own group.

“You keep messing with my hat.” The first said back, with accusation painted on her face.

“I'm not doing crap.” The second said, rubbing her shoulder.

The first got up silently, grabbed her hat, pushed in her chair, and walked around to the other side of the table, where she took a seat. She gave the second mare the 'I'm-watching-you' gesture, before she went back to her conversation with the third mare.

“A very finicky friendship, if I do say so myself.” The sound of Discord's voice rang in Kestral's ear. “It makes me wonder if you can just.... tip it over.”

Well. Kestral thought, directing it towards Discord. If they're willing to stop being friends over a hat and some foul words, then they weren't really friends in the first place, were they?

“I like the way you think.” He said. “Bonds and fires and all that, right?”

Maybe I’ll get them to fight later. Right now, I just want to mess with them.

“Oh, fine.” He said. “Just make it appealing.”

Kestral looked at another mare in the group -who shall be named 'the fourth mare'- and saw her blowing on a fresh -but not steaming- cup of coffee, with a mass of whipped cream on top. She brought it up, and tilted it back. Right then is when he used one of his new spells, aquamancy, and stopped the drink from flowing.

From what he learned, the spell affected any liquid, and it was useful in two ways: He could lift liquid in the same manner he could lift objects with telekinesis -which, he didn't understand why there was a discrepancy between the two abilities- and he could mess with the adhesion and cohesion of said liquid. Those are what the book said he could do, but he thought it was worth experimenting some time later.

In any case, the mare tilted her head back, but furrowed her brows when none of the caffeinated beverage came out. She held it out, and tilted it, trying to comprehend what was happening. She turned it upside down, with not a single drop escaping the cup. She looked puzzled, then put the cup down. She turned to her friend -mare number five- and got her attention. She grabbed the cup and turned-

splash!

The two jumped in shock, horrified at the coffee stains on their coats and in their manes. The group looked at them, sharing similar looks of disbelief.

“What was that for?! This going to take forever to get out!” Mare five exclaimed.

“It wasn't doing that earlier!” Mare four said. “Really!”

“Whatever.” The mare replied, standing up and walking towards the bathroom. “This is going to take forever to wash out.”

“I- Pastel, wait.” Mare four followed mare five in, leaving their seats empty.

Kestral looked at his real target. The aggressive one. While those two had some splattered on them, Kestral sent a large glob towards that mare, landing somewhere on her body's core. He couldn't see her face from her new seats, but judging by her being frozen, and her friend's stares, she was having much frustration with her circumstances.

He let her have a moment, and she began breathing deeply, perhaps trying to withhold her rage. All was well, but the threshold of anger was close, and he knew it. All it took was one more push to get her to break.... but not yet. No, he was making the last hit a classic.

He put the newspaper down, and picked up his fork. He began carefully scraping the top of the pie-crust off, exposing the gooey, sugary chunks of apple and cinnamon.

He put the fork down, and stood up. He walked to the cashier again, who was smiling at him expectantly, though she seemed a tad worried at the group. She casually tossed a coffee-soaked paper towel into the trash, before she spoke. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes.” He said, getting some bits out. “I thought about it, and I decided I'd love to have some doughnuts in a paper bag.”

“Okay!” She said, grabbing a bad and opening the display. “What can I get you?” She asked.

“I'll have a dozen doughnut holes, and two jelly-filled, please.”

“Okay!” She said, grabbing said items. “Is that everything you need?” She asked.

“Yep.”

“That'll be six bits, sir.” She said.

He handed her the money, and grabbed the bag. He gave a curt nod as he walk away, towards the group of ponies that he had been harassing. He pulled out the jelly doughnut, and placed it in front of the angered mare, who just looked at it, then to him, in confusion.

“You seem angry.” He said, not giving her enough time to be the first to speak. “Cheer up. Have a doughnut, and stop being so loud. It's affecting other people.”

She looked at him, but before she could say anything, he grabbed his newspaper and began walking away, towards the door. Right as he grabbed the handle, he used his magic to launch the slice of pie he had bought into the confused mare's face.

Right as he closed the door, an ear-shattering scream had suddenly let loose, making curious anyone within earshot. Through the clear windows, outsiders spotted the mare Kestral had given a doughnut, covered in apple slices and smeared with sugar.

“GODS. FUCKING! DAMNIT!”

Parents covered their children's ears and eyes, most rushing them away, as the large group in the back broke out into a fight. The mare he had pie'd threw punches at her 'friends' next to her, but made sure to smother their bodies with the sweets she was probably accusing them of having stuffed in her face.

It looked like an M.M.A. match had been sponsored by Dunkin' Donuts, and made more interesting by having all the contestants fight at once. It wasn't as funny as Kestral thought it would be, but it still gave him a chuckle or two to see the kind of trouble he could stir without being accused of anything. Discord, meanwhile, was losing control of his laughter fairly quickly.

“Bahahahahahahahahahah!” He shouted in his ear. “Th-th-this i-is goooold!”

“Heh. It's pretty good I guess.” Kestral said, his own laughter having died quickly. His own humor in what he did was simply having pissed off the mare, but Discord seemed to love everything he did.

He walked away, letting Discord just laugh away in his ear. Eventually the laughing died down, and Discord spoke in a more controlled tone. “Oh, thanks for the ride, Kestral. It's always just so fun to watch petty arguments destroy even more petty relationships.”

“Uh huh.” He replied, still walking through the busy street. “Glad you had fun.”

“I did.” He said, but his voice grew more solemn like the flip of a switch. “But, before I go, I think I should let you have your next target.”

Kestral stopped, and his back stiffened. “I'm listening.” He said.

“Well, it's on your map.” Discord continued. “But, I'm suspecting that this one is special. Even worse, not all of their prisoners are.... unconscious. I fear that the situation may be worse than is recoverable, even to my abilities. So, please, do make haste in taking care of this one.”

“Will do.” Kestral nodded, the sudden shift from humor to seriousness catching up to him. “I'll make sure to talk to you once it's done.”

“Good.” He said. “In any case, thank you for giving me a show. I feel rejuvenated. But alas! The search continues. I will take my leave.”

Discord's presence within Kestral's mind dissipated, leaving the human to his own devices once again.

He gripped that bag in his hand a little tighter, and pressed forward, wondering if he should start looking into his target a little earlier than he usually would. That, though, would mean skipping out on making sure Silver and her kin were safe. Which was he to do; To save a stranger earlier, or to ensure his friends were safe?

Decisions, decisions......

Kestral walked into the house, with bag still in hand, surprised to walk into a wall of scent. Spicy and sweet smells greeted him, along with the slight haze of moist air. He closed the door behind him, changing out of the disguise once he did.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he needed to say. As he stepped past the couch and into the kitchen, he glanced around, and saw Navi standing on a chair, stirring a pot. She looked at him with a smile, but it quickly turned into a more neutral expression.

“Hey, Kes.” She said. “Did you, um.... did you sleep well?”

“I slept rather well.” He admitted. “How about you?”

“Pretty good.” She said, turning back to her pot. “Do you want some food? I can cook some more if you want.”

“No. I'm fine.” He said. Her unusually calm demeanor wasn't beyond his perception. It was almost as if she was avoiding something. He thought he knew what it was. “There is something I need to talk to you about, though.”

She looked at him, and stopped stirring the pot. “S-sure.” She said. She put a cover on the pot, and sat on her haunches, looking at him expectantly. “Is this about last night?”

Kestral offered a confused face, then a softer, more understanding one. “You were listening last night?” He said. Well. I guess that means she already knows.

“I-” She started, then paused, lowering her head. “Yeah.... I was.”

“Navi.” He sighed, looking at her. “I think I should say I'm sorry. I should have made it more clear that I might not be staying for long.”

“That's okay.” She said, idly flicking her hoof in a random direction. She looked more towards the ground. “It... it wasn't right of me to expect that from you.” She continued, only making herself seem smaller. After a moment, she looked back up at him, with some hope in her eyes. “So, you're really leaving after you're done with... your job?”

He averted her gaze for the smallest moment, before he looked her in the eye. “I'm not sure what I'm doing after this is all over.” He said. “But I have friends, and my uncle, to think about back home.”

Home.

That was a liberating thought. For a fraction of a second, memories of parties and celebrations with friends ran through Kestral's mind. An image of his redneck friend trying to out-drink the town's barber gave him an unnoticeable smile. Then, it was the image of a jet-fighter wannabe creating spare parts out of presumably ruined scrap metal, impressing even the most scrupulous of mechanics. Then, he saw his friendly business owner, and entrepreneur, scaring off petty marketers after they attempted to tape advertizements all over his windows. Then... he saw his father, and his uncle too, both challenging eachother to arm wrestling, even in their old age. His uncle had won, of course, given his taller frame and more frequent self-training.

The memories gave him a flicker of happiness, for some reason.

“Okay.” Navi said, the soft voice brought him back to the real world. “That's okay, just..... thanks for..... thanks for being here.”

“Hey.” He said, bringing his focus back on her. “That doesn't mean I'm leaving right this minute!” He said, trying to bring a smile to her face. He gestured to the bag in his hands. “I brought you some doughnuts, so why don't we just enjoy ourselves? Tell me about your day.” He said.

And so they went on, talking to eachother as Navi ate. They covered the events of the day so far, and began talking about the experiences they had so far. There was one thought, however, that seemed to etch away at the back of his mind. It was just subtly present, only just voluminous enough to have been noticed, then archived for contemplation at a later date.

Home....