A blue-green unicorn colt stared down at the market below him. It was bustling and full of ponies. There were also minotaurs, griffons, and all manner of strange creatures that he did not know. He saw tents, stalls, crates, and cages of all sizes, holding all manner of creatures. Including ponies. He was sitting upon a tall stack of crates, all piled up at the edge of the harbour. It was the perfect place to hunt for an easy mark.

He surveyed the crowd with his one violet eye, the only eye he had. His dark purple mane whipped in the wind coming off of the sea. He smiled broadly, seeing plenty of opportunities below. Upon his backside was a broken padlock, something Springer took great pride in.

His companion, a three legged earth pony named Dimple stood just behind him. Dimple was large. So very large. Dimple was frequently mistaken for being an adult, even though he was still just a colt. He was just a very large colt. He was grey, with a dark blue mane. He had dark blue eyes and a wedge of cheese as his mark. Dimple had once stepped in a bear trap… Something he hadn’t repeated after the first time. He was now short one front leg. Springer suspected that Dimple had chewed his own leg off…

“Springer?” Dimple said, his thick brow furrowed.

“Yeah Dimple.” Springer replied.

“I think I see a zebra. Never seen one of those before.” Dimple said, his voice a low rumble that a dragon might envy.

“Where?” Springer asked.

Dimple pointed, using his muzzle. “There.”

Springer craned his head, looking down into the crowd. Sure enough, there was a zebra in a small cage. He scowled, reaching up to scratch his head with his hoof. “Not sure if that’s the best target to go after. Sure, zebras are valuable to the right buyer, but it is in the middle of the market. Making off with our prize is bound to be troublesome. Plus, zebra. Those are rare. And word of a stolen zebra is bound to spread.”

Dimple shrugged. “I didn’t say to steal it, I was just pointing it out.”

“But I kinda want to steal it.” Springer said, his voice silky. “If I am going to ever live up to my destiny as a master thief,” he paused to pat his mark, “then I must be bold.”

Dimple shrugged again. “I’m in. Either way. I really want some cheese.”

“You always want cheese large friend.” Springer said. “Must be so very pleasant having a simple destiny. Find cheese. Steal cheese. Eat cheese.”

Dimple nodded. He’d heard this all before. His simple mark drove Springer crazy, as Springer felt that he had too much to live up to. Dimple was a simple creature with a simple mark. Eat cheese, smash anything that threatened his friend. Springer made life too complicated with his schemes.

The two sauntered into the marketplace. Well, Springer sauntered: Dimple had an odd three legged gait, missing one of his front legs. They strode forward casually, confident, with purpose. No doubt, Springer was using his magic to wink small items and valuables into his saddlebags.

They pushed their way through the crowd, Dimple leading the way, as something about him caused ponies to move. It didn’t take them long to push their way into the center of the slave market. All around them were cages filled with poor souls who were now slaves to be bought and sold. Ponies, griffons, there was a gagged dragon, a few minotaur calves, and one zebra.

Which they focused on. They were going to need a distraction of some sort. Then, Springer would pop the lock with his special magic, release the zebra, and skedaddle. If everything went according to plan. Which it usually did. If it didn’t… Well, they’d have to make a fancy new plan while running. But that could be thought about later.

Dimple nudged Springer and pointed his muzzle at the dragon. “Escaped dragon.” He muttered.

Springer nodded. An escaped dragon would provide a wonderful distraction. Pop the lock, pop the gag, and run, hoping the dragon would be grateful. If not, more running might be required. Risks had to be taken, Springer concluded mentally. Dimple’s plan were always so simple, straight forward, and direct. Dimple was a valuable asset. Which is why Dimple got forty percent.

Springer casually went forward, whistling a merry tune, while Dimple moved toward the zebra. Still whistling, Springer touched his horn to the dragon’s cage, and there were two distinct click sounds, followed by roar.

Springer quickly moved on, he had pressing business elsewhere.

As the crowd shrieked and panicked, he went over to the zebra cage, still whistling. Dimple was waiting for him, standing there, scowling in a way that only Dimple could. Dimple’s dimples peppered his scowl with what a highly imaginative creature might call an adorable smirk.

The zebra looked at them, blinking, her face in shock. She looked at the rampaging dragon, and then back at the two ponies outside her small cage. There was a click as the lock was sprung. She suddenly found herself hauled out of her cage by the hobbles around her legs, and slung over the larger pony’s back. She grunted and murmured against her gag, unable to say anything.

“Oh look, the market is on fire.” Springer announced, his voice cheerful and sunny. “What a perfect distraction. I say we split dear friend.” He ran, now whistling a jaunty sea shanty that he had heard earlier.

Dimple nodded and took off, running in his odd three legged gait, the zebra bouncing on his back. The market burned behind him, pegasi rushing in with storm clouds to put the fire out. Screams, shouts, and angry bellows filled the air, as did the sound of stampeding hooves and feet of all kinds. There was a loud crash as a massive stack of crates fell over.

“Oh cheese!’ Dimple swore as the chaos swirled all around him. Springer laughed, an almost maniacal sound.

Eventually, the trio made it to a nice quiet filthy alley. It was completely abandoned. Dingy. And full of rotten fish heads. Which may be why it was empty. Springer thought it was perfect.

He removed gag from the zebra, and she looked at him with her yellow eyes.

Springer smiled. “Alright then. I am Springer and this is my associate Dimple.”

The zebra nodded. “I am Xanthippe.” She said, her voice strong with a thick strange accent. “Thank you for freeing me.”

“Oh, you’re not free. We stole you fair and square. You’re ours.” Springer said.

The zebra frowned. “I don’t want to be yours.” She protested.

“Well, for now, you are. Don’t worry, we’re nice.” Springer said, his tone friendly and warm.

“Can you remove the hobbles?” Xanthippe asked.

“Not a wise move.” Springer said, still smiling.

Xanthippe squirmed, trying to get comfortable on Dimple’s back. “So what is to be done with me?” She asked.

“Oh, we sell you to the highest bidder. Or trade you. Something will be figured out.” Springer said, still smiling.

“Or you hand her over to us.” A voice said. “Found them. They should all be worth a fair bit of coin. Especially the unicorn. He seems sly.”

“Oh cheese.” Dimple swore as the zebra was yanked from his back. He whirled, and saw several minotaurs, a few griffons, and a unicorn. Something large crashed into the back of his skull.

He stood there, blinking, feeling his rage boil up inside of him. Many eyes were staring at him, blinking in shock and surprise. “Did something just hit me on the back of the head?” He asked, his voice a low rumble.

A flurry of blows crashed into his head as a response, and Dimple sank into blackness.

Dimple had awoke some time later, bound, and stuffed into a tiny cage. He was currently in a cargo hold on a ship, with Springer in a cage nearby. Springer had been drugged. His magic was useless, and he could only murmur and drool. Xanthippe was also nearby. Several days had passed, spent in the dim confines of the cargo hold.

And there was something else in the cargo hold. Something made of nightmares.

Chained in the corner, with multiple hobbles around each leg and a massive iron collar around its neck was a terrifying creature out of Tartarus. A bat winged pegasus filly named Calliope. She stood, chained and bound in a dark corner, and the minotaur crew had threatened to feed Springer to Calliope if Dimple tried anything funny.

She stood in her corner, snarling and drooling, fangs flashing, making an odd series of clicks, pops, and whistles. She seemed incapable of speech.

Dimple felt rather miserable. He had hit some low points before during his time as a foal. But this was the worst. He didn’t see a way out.

“You alright?” He said to Xanthippe.

“Yes.” She said, slightly annoyed. “Just like all the other times you have asked. I am locked in a cage once again, on a ship, with what appears to be an overly concerned three legged pony.”

“You seem smart. Like Springer.” Dimple said.

“I have been educated. Before I was stolen.” Xanthippe said. She raised an eyebrow.

“I know all about cheese.” Dimple said, pride in his voice. “But I have never been formally schooled.”

“You don’t say.” Xanthippe said, a look of faux shock settling over her face. “I would never have guessed that if you hadn’t of told me.”

“No.” Dimple said. “I’ve never been to school. Springer has taught me how to read a little bit. And I can write my name.”

Xanthippe snorted, realising that her companion had no idea that he was being insulted. She froze, hearing a faint click as the door opened.

A figure approached. Tall. Horned. Minotaur.

He came into the dim light, smiling. “The crew is getting restless after all of these days at sea.” His smile grew broader. “Time for a little sport.” He began to unlock Xanthippe’s cage. She squirmed, trying to push herself as far inside of her cage as possible.

“No…” she pleaded, her eyes wide, “please no. I’ve never…”

“Like we care.” The minotaur said, interrupting, and dragging her out by her hobbles. He slung her around into a post, causing her to go limp and mostly silent, whimpering.

Dimple struggled against his own hobbles, kicking against his cage.

The minotaur laughed. “We’re going to lose a little coin selling you ‘broken in’ but it’ll be worth it. I’ll take it out of the crew’s wages.”

“wassssgooinooon?” Springer said, his voice slurring.

The minotaur turned and departed, dragging Xanthippe by her hobbles. “No!” She cried, still trying to struggle.

Dimple heard the door in the distance shut with an ominous click. He had to do something… He kicked and struggled as hard as he could. “Springer, I could really use some help here.”

“Hai knowsh.” Springer said, shaking his head feebly.

Calliope made a sound like a steam whistle as Dimple struggled.

Dimple heard a loud scream from up above decks. Enough was enough. He kicked out with everything he had. Several bars tore free from the wood that formed the top and bottom of his cage. He kicked again, and again, his rage boiling over. He forced his way out, angry bellows escaping his lips with each kick. He stood on the wooden floor, and then kicked his three legs out crazily, each in different directions, snapping his chains, the metal clamps biting cruelly into his flesh, blood poured from ripped skin.

Springer saw his friend go charging off, his vision doubled and fuzzed over. He had never seen Dimple so angry. He struggled to regain his own mind, whatever they had drugged him with was strong. He struggled to concentrate. He needed to free himself. Dimple needed him. He heard an angry roar. He didn’t know if it was bovine or equine. It was followed by a crash and the splintering of wood. More shouting. More crashing. Something that was most certainly a scream of pain, followed by a rather feminine voice shouting words of encouragement.

Springer struggled to make his magic work. Dimple needed him, his drug addled mind screamed. He heard a pop sound, followed by another. He struggled to his hooves. Dimple was too much of an investment. Too much time and effort had gone into making Dimple a worthwhile associate. Springer wobbled, drugged, the rocking of the ship not helping at all, and he stumbled off to try and help his friend.

Springer emerged onto the deck, blinking, trying to take in everything he saw. The bright sunlight burned his eyes, pain piercing the fog in his head. A low moan escaped his throat.

On the deck were several dead minotaurs, bodies twisted and broken in odd angles, legs and arms pointing in unnatural directions. One of them had his head pointing backwards, looking down at his own britches covered backside. Some hung on the deck rails, strewn about, thrown, scattered, tossed aside.

Dimple was a bloody mess, standing in the middle of the deck, his sides heaving, the zebra not to far away.

“Whash tha Tarfurush?” Springer said, shaking his head, not believing what we has seeing.

“You are my zebra.” Dimple growled, his sides still heaving. Blood trickled from his brow and into his eye, causing his eye to twitch. “I stole you fair and square. I keep what is mine.”

“I have never been happier to be somepony’s zebra.” Xanthippe said, still in shock.

“I donsh watnsh my ushual shixtshy pershent, you cansh have allsh theesh sheebra.” Springer said, surveying the carnage. His gaze froze, seeing a minotaur with part of a broken yardarm rail crammed up its backside. He cringed. Dimple was never one to fight fair… Ew, that looked like it had hurt.

“So…” Xanthippe said. “Who knows how to sail?”

Next Chapter: Chapter 2 Estimated time remaining: 28 Minutes