An eternity later, after Rarity had taken both of their measurements and offered her advice on fashion, they left Carousel Boutique’s tent, and re-entered the chaos of the Market.

“I like her!” Meadowsong pranced.

“Yeah, she was alright, in her own way. Little too frou-frou for me, but she’s certainly passionate about her field.”

Meadowsong smiled. “Oh? And who pressed her for information about where padding would both accentuate and protect? And how one might--”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Where to next?”

She placed a hoof on her chin, and thought. “The Bazaar, of course! While you were looking through Rarity’s stallion pieces, she was telling me all about this device some clever pony has created. Some sort of practice dummy that hits back. Win--”

“Win, and you get some kind of reward. Yeah, I know the mare who invented it. She’s fun, you’d like her. She’s got a show at the Exhibition Grounds at noon. She’s gonna be unveiling something better. At least, that’s what she says.”

“And we can get more of those fritters--”

Tempest’s eyes widened, and he shot off. He stopped after three powerful strides, turned, and called over his shoulder: “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s get going!”

She nickered, and galloped to catch up, her pendant glittering crimson in the morning sun.

A hoof fell on Tempest’s shoulder from behind. He whirled around, only to see a stout older stallion, with a bushy moustache poking out from under a faded, wide-brimmed hat. It had been blue once, but now was almost gray.

“I didn’t wish to surprise you. I merely wished to ask about your companion, that young mare down the way. I purchase odds and ends, and that pendant of her’s could fetch a nice price. Do you think she’d sell it?”

Tempest edged away from the stallion. “And who are you?”

The stallion chuckled, a sound like a brook over stones, and walked back to his stall. “My name is Oakhoof, my lad, from lands far to the south, beyond the Everfree Forest. You’ll not find better jewelry nor stronger steel than those birthed in my forge, I’d take my oath on it.”

Meadowsong trotted up, a little winded. “What’s all the fuss?”

“This guy wants to buy your pendant. Says it could be worth something.”

She flushed. “No, thank you. It’s an heirloom. I’d never part with it.”

Oakhoof chortled, a cascade of rocks down grassy hills, and nodded. “But of course. Think nothing of it. Would you like to peruse my wares, perhaps? And a small discount, by way of an apology?”

“T-thanks, maybe later,” Tempest said. “We’re meeting some friends over at the Bazaar.”

Oakhoof bowed, and sauntered back into his stall. He shouted to their retreating forms, “You should come visit my forge, if you need some steel worked! Enjoy the fair!”

The Bazaar was as loud as the Market, with shouts of joy and excitement in place of the vendors’ hawking their wares. Each ride was packed with celebrators, and each game stall had a line of four or so ponies just waiting to try their hooves at this or that carnival game. As they passed, Meadowsong called out encouraging words, and Tempest realized he was smiling.

So he joined in.

Eventually, they found their way to Eureka’s stall. There was no caretaker, just a turnstile installed into a brick wall, and set around a large red ball. Tempest watched as a tough-looking colt with three stars placed in a triangle for a cutie mark entered to the cheers of his pals. He pushed through the bars of the turnstile, and looked back towards the gathered throng. Before he could say anything, however, the ball hissed and clicked wickedly. They all watched in awe as the sphere snapped into sections, and whirred. In moments, a form emerged. It looked like a rotund pony, albeit one ten feet high.

The tough stared at it, as it held what appeared to be a microphone to what had to be its face, and sang to a brassy blast of horns.

Everyone, including the tough, stood motionless, overwhelmed by the ludicrous image before them.

Gonzo let out a blast of steam, and crouched low. Tempest had seen this before, and shouted a warning. The burly pony shook his head, and dodged as Gonzo rocketed forward with a bang. Gonzo’s hooves sank into the soft loam, and it froze, tracking the star-flanked pony.

“Yeah, Cosmos! That’s the way!” shouted a short, stocky pony with a daisy sandwich cutie mark. “Show that robot who’s boss!”

Cosmos grinned, and started to say something in response. However, Gonzo leaped towards him and caught him in the stomach. There was a coughing and a sputtering, and Cosmos fell over.

As he did, a large sign dropped from above the ring, and started to tick down. Gonzo shouted with it, blasting steam from its muzzle..

As the sign ticked to zero, a buzzer went off somewhere within Gonzo, and it clicked and whirred again. In no time, the sphere stood still and silent. Cosmos stood up shakily, and stepped back through the turnstile. The gathered ponies all commiserated with Cosmos, and in no time he had recovered. He walked away with his friends, all of them laughing.

Tempest adjusted his headband, and looked back at Meadowsong. “We can take this hunk of junk. I do it all the time.”

Meadowsong raised an eyebrow. “I imagine that Cosmos fellow thought the same thing. Still, we are here, and it is 15 more Silver Points.” She reached into her saddlebag and removed the slim crossbow with her magic. As she notched a bolt, Tempest laughed and drew his wooden sword.

“Just a moment, Tempest. I won’t go in there with an injured companion. Let me look at your wing, please?”

He sidled up to her, and stretched his injured wing out, grunting with the pain as she prodded it and gave it a tentative flex. “Are you-- ow. Are you a medical student in Canterlot? Ow!”

She shook her head, and closed her eyes as her horn glowed. His wing joint was wrapped in her faint, pale violet aura. He hissed as the swelling decreased and the wing righted itself with a pop.

“Ah! Ow. Hey, that’s a neat trick. Where’d you learn that?”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He cocked his eyebrow, and shrugged. “Maybe some other time, then. Now, let’s go to work on this thing.”

The turnstile ticked twice as they stepped through.

Gonzo’s act was no less impressive as he assembled for a second time. Out came the microphone and the brassy fanfare:

“How does it know?” Meadowsong asked, sighting down her bow.

“The turnstile, I think,” Tempest said around the hilt of his sword. “I dunno, Eureka did it.”

With that, the fight was joined. Tempest took to the sky, as Meadowsong fired her bolt at the mechanized giant. The bolt dug into a joint, but was snapped off as the robot leapt towards her. She gave a short shriek of surprise, and felt the steam from its muzzle. She shut her eyes, and tensed for the blow.

It never came. There was a crack of wood on metal, and a cry from Tempest. She opened her eyes to see Gonzo sprawled in the mud with a dent across its side. Tempest hovered in the air, beating his wings steadily to stay aloft.

“You alright?” His eyes never left Gonzo.

She reloaded, and cocked the crossbow. “Yes, thanks.”

Gonzo sprang to its feet, and raised the microphone to its muzzle. Before either of the ponies could react, the robot let out an ear-shattering blast of feedback. Tempest and Meadowsong screamed in unison, and Tempest fell towards the ground. Gonzo bolted after him, and reared back for a buck.

Gritting her teeth against the agony, Meadowsong aimed, took a breath, and fired.

There was a crack, and then a crash as Gonzo fell off-balance and into the wall of the stall. Tempest landed with a thump, and stood up shakily. His wooden sword thudded point-first into the ground.

“And you?” Meadowsong said as she reloaded.

Tempest nodded. “Thanks.” He grabbed his sword, and shot back into the sky.

Gonzo stood, and turned to face the pair. One of its eyes had been fractured, the crystal now split unevenly into three pieces. There was a moment as it twitched its head between the retreating form of Tempest and that of Meadowsong.

Meadowsong wasted no time. She fired again, and shouted. “Over here, you big lummox!”

The bolt was knocked out of the air, and Gonzo charged her. She stood her ground, and bit down on the string on her crossbow. “That’s right, me! Come here, you…”

It leaned its head back, preparing to ram her.

Just as suddenly as before, there was a streak of gray followed by several loud cracks. Tempest had hit Gonzo with an upward slash, which had knocked the robot up and and off its hooves. Now, he was quickly looping around in the air, striking Gonzo again and again before he flew past and landed on the ground.

Gonzo hit the ground with a thud, and a little white flag popped out of its back with a burst of confetti. It stood up, and raised the microphone to its face again.

Their card pinged softly in Meadowsong’s saddlebag, registering the increase. With that, the battered form of Gonzo disassembled and reformed into the sphere, awaiting another challenger. Tempest and Meadowsong left through the turnstile to the cheers of the onlookers.

“That was… certainly an experience,” Meadowsong said. “Does this Eureka usually try to kill her friends?”

Tempest smiled. “Nah, usually her inventions explode. Glad to see she’s gotten the bugs ironed out. She’s really earned that wrench on her flank with ol’ Gonzo here!”

The two shared a laugh on their way to a fritter tent, and celebrated with a few.

Some time later, over the din of the crowd, a barker called out, “Fillies and gentlecolts! That Mistress of Mechanics, the Filly of the Future, Eureka is ready! She’s presenting her latest invention now, at Exhibition Stage Three! Come for the science, stay for the fireworks, if you know what I mean!” Tempest glanced at Meadowsong, who nodded in return. Together, they headed north.