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Jokers and Rogues

by DocDelray

Chapter 4: Last Call

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Rain fell in sheets upon the wooden roof and sent a crescendo of pattering water echoing throughout the tavern. The small crowd of people gathered inside spoke and chattered away until their voices drowned out the storm outside. A warm fire at the far end of the building spilled warmth and extra light into the room with the aid of candles placed throughout upon wall sconces. Hints of smoke filled the air and mingled with the smell of various heavy drinks and spirits that the serving staff carried from table to table. In a corner of the bar stood a young woman with deep red hair that strummed away at the lute in her hands, softly singing to her own melody. While the majority of the patrons were clearly local farmers and the occasional merchant, a group of six stood out from the crowd.

Amber and her new companions had taken up residence at a table at the far end of the barroom. The mare’s haunches were seated upon one of the old wooden chairs that were clearly never meant for a pony’s flank. She shifted about trying to find a more comfortable way to sit at the table with the others, but her new attire made things a little harder.

A shirt of metal links was now draped over and strapped against her body, with a dull grey woolen shirt underneath, keeping the chain mail from tearing into her fur. She was thankful for the hood of her undershirt which she kept pulled up over her head; a simple disguise, but it stemmed the number of awkward stares she knew she’d be getting. Two pairs of metal bracers had been fitted around her fore and hind legs near her hooves while her sword still sat strapped to her back between her wings. She was impressed by Frank’s skill with a hammer and anvil, as the majority of her day was spent getting fitted with the protective gear. What really impressed her was how he’d managed to work slits into the back for her wings, something that even the most adept of pony artisans usually had difficulty with. Despite being mostly fitted to her unique body type she still found herself shifting about her in seat as she struggled to get comfortable with the heavier weight.

“Sit still, damn ye,” Ogrham had scolded her. “Ye act’in like ye nev’a worn bloody armor before.”

“Sorry, just getting used to wearing something this heavy,” the thestral replied.

“Not too heavy is it,” Frank asked with a touch of worry. “Tried ta make it as light as I could for ye with all the fly’in an’ such. I could refit it if ye need it.”

“No, no, no,” Amber quickly replied. “It fits just fine, Frank I’m just more used to the stuff they issued us back in the Night Guard. More magically enhanced.”

"Tell ye what: find use someone what makes bardin’ fer fly'in ponies an' we'll fit the bill," Rourke chuckled in response.

All around the table, Amber and her new comrades continued to chat happily and outright enjoy one another's company. The mare sipped on a tankard of ale that had been seasoned with a touch of cinnamon and wild berries while she and Rictor talked at length about the various noteworthy locations in Equestria. Ogrham, as always when there was time to relax and drink, was puffing out thick clouds of smoke from his pipe like a doting father watching over his children. Sabine contently sipped upon a glass of deep red wine while leaning herself against the hulking form of Frank seated beside her. The large man merely smiled awkwardly and pretended not to be aware of the flecks of red that burned in his cheeks. And through all of this, Rourke sat at the head of the table with his back to the wall and his sharpened gaze set upon the front door.

The entire tavern went silent for a moment when six men came in from the pouring rain. They were clad in rough and worn armor that was in various states of disrepair and mistreatment. Each man had a sword that hung from his side and a badge upon their breast that displayed the shining sun symbol of Acosta. All eyes in the tavern were upon them the moment they entered but when they headed towards a table most seemed to relax and return to their business. There was still a hint of tension in the air and it was especially felt at the table of Rourke and his mercenaries.

"Damn," Ogrham grumbled. "That'll complicate things."

"How complicated we talking?" Amber asked.

"Those four're Acostan Peacekeepers," the dwarf replied. "We're 'sposed ta be meet'in a rebel contact 'bout get'in paid fer that last job, so add it up pon'eh."

"Peacekeepers," Frank grumbled with a surprising hint of anger in his voice. "Not a damn thing those bastards have t’ do with peace; noth'in but bandits wit' badges is what they are. I hate bandits."

"Won't be no trouble s'long as we don't draw attention," Rourke cautioned them. "Keep yer heads down an' business ta yerselves, especially you Shine."

"What'd I do?"

"Not what ye did, what ye could do," the half-elf pointed out. "Not exactly the easiest person ta hide, so just keep yer head down an' nose in that tankard, ye got that?"

No sooner had he given her this order had the front door of the bar opened once again to admit one more seeking refuge from the downpour. He was clad in heavy grey robes that were soaked through and through; however, the deep hood remained pulled up and hid his face. The man appeared to be hunched over and walked with a limp as he made for the bar.

"Right on time," Rourke quietly praised. "Now, like I said, heads down an' mind yer own business, got it?" He didn't wait around for a response as he made for the bar where he sidled up beside the mysterious robed man. He fished a few gold coins from his pouch and let them clink upon the countertop while nodding towards the bartender. "Oi, round for me an' my friend here."

The hooded man glanced towards Rourke while keeping his head down. "Wonderful weather today," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe we'll go fish'in," the half-elf replied. Beneath the bar, a small bag packed with gold coins was passed into Rourke's open hand and was quickly slipped into his coat's inner pockets with muffled clink.

"We have more work for your team," the robed man said.

"Fine by me, but our rates've recently gone up," Rourke replied as he watched the bartender pour the pair a glass of whiskey.

"Mr. Rourke, are you trying to extort the Drechsel army?"

"Of course not," he assured him with a wry grin as he sipped on the hard liquor in front of him. "You lot couldn't afford my extortion prices. See, our little famly's grown as of late, got a new mouth ta feed an' she's gonna need an allowance here pretty soon."

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"So, what's the story with those Peacekeeper guys," Amber asked in a low hushed tone. "Why's everypony so tense about them?"

"Peacekeepers ‘police’ the fringes of Acostan territories," Sabine informed her. "They’re usually recruited from among the locals of the area, the majority of whom already having a long standing history of keeping the people of the area under their control. Which means that the majority of their number tend to be members of either gangs or raiding parties that people already rightly know to fear."

"That's insane," Amber said with a scoff. "They're letting criminals dictate the law?"

"When the other option is, "Or we kill your entire line from every man woman and child," the prospect of being Acosta's puppet starts to look a bit better," Sabine said. "That little clause helps ensure they follow the majority of the rules as well."

"Bunch'a bloodthirsty thugs," Frank grumbled. "Ain't no business be'in called lawmen."

"Like Rourke said, jus' keep yer 'eads down an' don't draw attention," Ogrham reminded them with a snort.

"Right, how much attention could a table of five armed mercenaries draw?" Amber snidely asked.

As if to respond to her question, the troupe of Peacekeepers started to loudly talk and laugh amongst themselves. They appeared, for the most part, to be more occupied with their tankards of ale and stories that tried hard to one up the last one told. One of them took a few coins out of his pouch and waved the minstrel over to their table, a trip that she very reluctantly made.

"See these coins," he asked her. "You're gonna play fer me an' my mates for the rest of the night, got that?"

"Y-yes m'lord," she replied nervously. "What would you like me to play?"

"With my cock fer starters," he said with a wry grin and a pause to let his companions get all the laughter out of their system. "For now though, you're gonna play some proper Imperial music, none'a that Drechsel shit."

“What would you like me to play m’lord?”

The Fall of Stone Hall,” he said loudly while shooting the angry glances from the crowd a cocksure grin.

“I can’t play that song, m’lord.”

“An’ why not,” he asked her with a clear hint of annoyance in his voice.

“W-well, I’m mostly familiar with the local songs, ones I’ve grown up learn’in to play sir,” she replied, her voice slightly shaky. “Perhaps I could entertain you with another song.”

“Can you believe this shit?” he asked his companions. “We give this little cunt more gold then she’s ever going to make in this town an’ she can’t even give us the one song we wanna hear.”

“Don’t worry sir, I know how the song goes,” one of them assured the leader of the group while getting to his feet.

“Good man, Sanders,” he praised him. “Educate the poor girl, would you?”

"Wit’ pleasure," the man named Sanders said with a chuckle. He stepped closer and the girl continued to shrink away from him. "Most important thing 'bout the song is 'ow ye stand when ye play'in an' sing'in it, otherwise folks can't hear what ye say'in. Go on girl, show us 'ow ye play a song."

Though clearly frightened, she hesitantly obeyed and let her body fall into the practiced positions she'd used for years. "Stop," the order made her flinch. "Already ye do'in it wrong ye twat, ain't no one ev'a teach ye 'ow ta play proper before?"

He roughly grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her away from the wall. When the rest of the patrons shifted in their seats as if to rise his companions turned to face them with hands upon their weapons. When no one fulfilled this challenge, he went back to his "work", placing himself behind the whimpering girl on the verge of tears.

"Ye stance is all wrong," he growled close to her ear. His hands roughly took her arms and moved them to what he believed the proper placement to be.

Amber could feel her entire body reaching out for her sword without having given it any kind of command.

"Ye need to keep yer legs apart more," as he said this his grip shifted from her wrists to her thighs. Grabbing her through her old faded skirt, he started roughly parting her legs apart. When shaken young lady tried to resist it only caused him to tighten his grip in promise of something worse.

This has to stop, she thought to herself, somepony has to stop this! Rourke’s warning from before stayed her hoof and only served to pen her rage all the more. She was a stranger here - this was something that the local law should be taking care of...but that it was the so-called ‘stallion of the law’ that was committing the crime!

Furthermore, as she looked around the mare realized that most of the inn’s patrons were all farmers, and that most of them were afraid. What good would they do against armed men? Even with numbers there was a good chance that more than a few of them would get cut down before finally stopping these “Peacekeepers”. Fear stayed their hands and feet while rage and hate screamed at Amber to step in.

"Now, ye gotta sing from the diaphragm see," Sanders whispered in a gruff voice, his lingering digits taking their time to move down the front of her body until they cupped her about the breasts.

"ENOUGH!" Rictor roared as he quickly rose to his feet and sent his chair tumbling across the floor, his hand rested upon the hilt of his sword. "Take your hands off her, now!"

In the span of a second, the other five Peacekeepers were on their feet, their hands hovering dangerously close to the hilts of their swords. Sanders tightened his grip on the tearful bard and turned her into a human shield between himself and Rictor. The young knight wasn’t alone however, as the members of his own troupe quickly took to their feet in a similar show of strength, Amber especially taking position beside him. All around them the now startled patrons of the bar began hurrying towards the door in fear of getting caught in the middle of the fight.

"This wee pup's got some teeth, lads," the leader said with a snicker. "This your woman boy? You want 'er little cunny back? You an' your friends might wanna back down before things get bloody."

“The only one's about to get bloodied are you assholes," Amber barked at them with her wings flaring out from her sides. "Let the girl go and walk away before your face becomes my new hoof warmer."

"The fuck is that thing!?" one of the Peacekeepers shouted.

"Looks like some kinda mutant gnome," another commented.

"Shut your mouths," their leader snapped at them. "An' you lot just sit the fuck back down."

"Not until you release the girl," Rictor hissed at them. "Remove your hands from her before I cut them off!"

“This lot looks pretty well armed ta be in a farm town,” one of the Peacekeepers commented. “Probably some’a them rebels.”

“We’re sellswords,” Rourke said from his place alone at the bar with his back to the room while he continued to sip on his glass of amber shaded liquor. “Ye shouldn’t pay the boy much mind, know how the youthful can be, all fire an’ no sense. An' the girl, well, still break'in 'er in, gotta still learn'in.”

“That so,” the head Peacekeeper said with a snort as he crossed the room to stand behind Rourke. "Both'a them still threatened us, what do you plan ta do about this?"

"Ye got a good point, mate," Rourke said with a happy chirp as he turned to face the irate officer. "What say we discipline the pair in our own way, you let that poor lass go 'bout 'er night an' then we all go our separate ways?"

The man seems to turn this over in his head for a moment, face contorting in thought while he looked between Rourke and the others. "We keep our coins."

"Take 'em all back with my blessing," Rourke replied with a smirk and his hand offered to the man. "Deal?"

The man was hesitant, staring at the half-elf's hand for a moment while visibly turning this idea over in his mind. All around the room, tension and tempers continued to flair while hands hovered close to their weapons. Rictor especially as he glared into the eyes of his opponent just beyond the increasingly frightened young woman. Amber lowered herself into a stance ready to pounce with her fangs bared and wings spread wide from her sides.

"Deal," he finally replied and took Rourke's hand in his with a firm grip.

Relief spread out through the room when they reached an accord. Both sides began backing off and returning to their respective corners of the bar. The man known as Sanders roughly shoved the woman away from himself and into Rictor. The still weeping and trembling girl clung to the squire's tabard and buried her face against his chest while he awkwardly guided her out of their reach.

“Run along now little girl,” Sanders said in a teasing tone. “Maybe I’ll pay ye a visit later, show ye what a real man’s cock feels like.”

Anger swelled up anew in Rictor’s chest when he heard those words; every fiber in his body screamed at him to draw his sword and end this repugnant man’s life. But before anything could be done, a blonde and blue blur darted past him and straight at Sanders. Amber’s metal clad hoof slammed into the brigand’s stomach with all the force she could afford. He was knocked from his feet with a painful gasp and crashed into the table behind him with a loud clatter of broken wood and tumbled tankards.

“Shit,” Rourke hissed.

A single second turned into an eternity the moment the guardsmare made her move. Shock and disbelief stayed everyone’s hands and slowed the world around them all before absolute chaos exploded.

With a quick motion of his deft hands, Rourke grabbed a bottle that had been left upon the bar. Still in mid handshake with the lead Peacekeeper, the half-elf tugged him forward and into the oncoming blunt object. A common misconception is that a bottle breaks when you hit someone with it. The truth is, however, that they’re a lot more solid than that and the man before Rourke was learning this first hand. The makeshift cudgel cracked him across the jaw with the sound of shattering bone followed by a spray of blood and several teeth that scattered across the room. He brought the weapon back and slammed it squarely into the front of his face with a loud wet THUMP and let it drop from his hand when the man fell to his knees. Rourke quickly drew a dagger from within his coat and plunged the blade into the side of his opponent’s neck, sending him to the floor gurgling and gasping as blood filled his lungs.

All around Amber the crooked lawmen drew their swords and were about to set upon the mare until her companions rushed in to defense. Using this to her advantage, she darted from the center of the group with a quick flap of her wings. The long thin digits of her wings made for excellent makeshift hands as one drew the sword from the sheath upon her back while her powerful jaws took the hilt in her mouth.

She had just taken a stance when one of the Peacekeepers rushed from the crowd with his sword raised over his head to strike the mare. She rushed forward to meet him halfway and quickly regretted it. The moment their blades met in mid-swing the vibrations sent from the blades striking sent a painful jolt through her mouth and into the back of her head. She stumbled away from him and instead began to just dart and dodge around the swings, their sloppy and haphazard nature made it all the easier for her to avoid being struck. Rolling below another blow she came to her hooves with the distance closed, and with a swift jerk of her head, the blade of her sword cut through the weak leather of his pants and tore apart the flesh and muscles of the limb. As he tumbled to one knee she swiftly brought the weapon back around and jammed it through his back and out through his chest. With another swift motion, she yanked the blade from his back and let him fall to the floor in a growing pool of blood.

A loud shout caught her attention as another man rushed towards her with his weapon at the ready. However, as he approached striking distance he was hefted from his feet. Behind him, Frank hoisted the man easily off the ground and high over his head. With all the massive strength behind his muscle-laden body, Frank slammed his opponent’s head into one of the overhead beams and then threw his motionless form to the ground. Amber could feel her stomach lurch a bit when she saw the way his forehead had been dented inwardly with a stream of blood pouring from the various holes of his head.

Ogrham was loudly making sure everyone in the room knew how much he was enjoying this brawl. Laughter and taunts streamed from the dwarf as he faced his armed foe with nothing but his tankard of ale. "What's the matter laddy, can ye even hit me with that wee metal tadger!" The dwarf slurred as he threw back a healthy mouthful of spirit while kicking a chair into the man's path giving him yet another reason to chuckle.

His fun was cut short when a rush of cold air rushed from the back of the room. The man barely managed a pained last gasp as a beam of magical energy lanced into his body. From the point of origin rime began to form and spread out across his body. He fell to his knees shivering and convulsing as his body was wracked by the overwhelming cold that was forced into his body. Sabine slowly strolled through the chaos with shimmering flecks of magical residue sparkling about her fingers. She shot the swarthy dwarf a rueful glare while she leveled her hand with the side of the weakened man's head.

"Telum Magicum," she said in a commanding voice and a bolt of magical energy blasted out from her fingers and speared through his skull. A splatter of blood and burnt flesh scattered across the tavern floor from the burst of magical energy. She gave the dwarf one last angry glare before returning to the rest of the fight.

"Hrmph, spoilsport," Ogrham grumbled with a snort.

Steel struck steel as Rictor met the Peacekeeper before him sword in hand. His opponent’s strikes were sloppy, untrained and random while the squire’s were practiced and focused. Rictor kept himself just out of reach of the man’s attacks while knocking away any that came close to hitting him. With a quick slash and a roll of his wrist the young swordsman knocked the blade out of his path before he drove the blade deep into his opponent’s chest. With the dying chaos around him, Rictor took notice of the final Peacekeeper stumbling out the tavern’s front door holding his chest where the irate batmare had struck him.

“Runner,” Rictor quickly called out before taking off after him.

Rictor barreled out the door in hopes of catching the man only to find him already atop a horse and riding at full speed. Sabine brushed past his shoulder and began weaving her will upon the aether around her calling shimmering energy to the tips of her fingers. With a quick motion towards the escaping man she shouted, “Fulmen Ignem,” in command and sent a spear of fire through the rainy air. It struck the horse along its underbelly and sent the unfortunate creature crumbling into a sea of mud and gore. Its rider was sent hurtling through the air when his stead was suddenly removed from under him. He hit the ground roughly with a loud shriek as several bones snapped with a loud crack upon impact.

The rest of the team finally piled out of the bar and into the storm. Rourke roughly pushed his way past the rest of his companions and grabbed Amber by the back of her collar. Caught off guard she half heartedly struggled against the man’s grip on the back of her armor. With a shove from the half-elf she stumbled forward in the uneasy gooey ground and fell face first into the mud.

She could feel her stomach twisting to the point where she was about to lose the contents within when she opened her eyes. The mare was now face to face with the pained expression of the twisted man writhing in pain. She was awash in a mixture of blood and muck with the mangled remains of the horse right beside her.

Pleasepleasedon’t…” the broken man begged through his wheezing.

Amber turned her attention towards him just in time to see Rourke force his knee into the man’s back and pin him to the muddy ground. He showed no hesitation as he pressed his dagger to the man’s throat and began dragging a deep red line across it. Gurgling and gasping, he fought for air but the only thing his lungs could draw in was a lungful of blood. For a moment he convulsed and shook as his eyes glassed over and his body went limp.

Getting to his feet, Rourke glared down at the mare while cleaned off his dagger before looking to the rest of the team, “Get yer gear,” he commanded them. “We got our next job."

"Rourke," a gruff angry voice split the sound of falling rain and made the man flinch. Standing behind him was a tall aged man, his features behind a long deep grey beard. Dark angry eyes peered out from beneath a wide brimmed hat while the rest of him was draped in a long brown duster. Flanking him on either side was a pair of tall strong men with drawn swords. "We need words, son."

"O’course, Sheriff Thornbrook," Rourke chimed with a forced smile. "Ogrham, be a peach an’ get the cart ready, I'll meet ye lot on the road out'a town."

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The sun had finally pushed its way past the dying storm clouds and shone its light upon the dampened land. Sunlight glinted off the wet grass and leaves of the scant few trees along the muddy road leading south out of the village of Red Fields. A warm wind blew through the valley and did its part to start drying up the mess left behind by the torrents of rain that had fallen earlier. Along the road trudged Rourke with a pack of supplies and the hood of his coat pulled up over his head to block the sun from his eyes.

Glancing past the hem of his hood he saw the old wooden cart parked at the side of the road with a ragged donkey hitched to it. His companions were seated upon it and eyed the half-elf and the deep bruise he now sported around his left eye. There was an awkward silence that hung around them as they watched him silently approach and throw his pack into the cart bed with all the others.

“We’re headed south,” Rourke told them flatly as he tossed his gear into the back of the cart. “Rictor, Shine, walk ahead’a us would ye?”

The mare gave him a look of disdain and unease only to be met with Rourke's own icy glare. Her mouth twisted as if to say something but a gentle hand on the back of her neck made her stop. Glancing over her shoulder she peered up at Rictor, a look of concern in his face. Nodding in agreement with the young man she hopped off the cart alongside him.

"C'mon, we got a lot'a ground ta cover," Rourke said to the others. "We wanna be halfway ta Crestfall before we camp."

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Up ahead of the small caravan, Amber and Rictor kept a steady march, their attentions on the surroundings. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between the pair of them, yet the mare's radiating anger was aimed back at the half-elf. It soon became far too much for Amber to keep bottled up inside of herself.

"Why," she hissed. "We had those guys beat, why go out of his way to kill that man."

"He went too far with it," Rictor agreed. "In his own twisted way though, I think he did it to protect Red Fields."

"Slitting that man's throat protects the town how?"

"You saw for yourself back at the tavern, Red Fields has mostly farmers and the occasional merchant. If any of those men had escaped and returned to superiors they could've returned with a contingent and leveled the whole place. All they'd have to do is claim they found some kind of rebel influence or faction residing there. I don't agree with what he did... but I know why he did it."

The young squire gave the mare a sad mournful stare. "He shouldn't have made you watch either."

Amber trotted beside Rictor in silence for some time. Her mind still turning over the events back in town. The glazed over eyes of the man drowning in his own blood and the cold glare of Rourke standing over her. She shut her eyes tightly and forced the thoughts back from the fore front of her mind.

The mare cast her gaze up at her companion and stared at him sadly. "Rictor, you don't seem like the rest of these guys, why are you even here?"

"My sister and I owe Rourke and Ogrham our lives," he replied. "It's a debt of honor."

"Honor bound to a man without honor," Amber pointed out. "That seems a bit counterproductive doesn't it?"

"His ethics are questionable," Rictor agreed. "But there is a kind of honor that guides him, I've seen it from time to time."

Yet another lengthy silence filled the gap between them for a time before the mare’s curiosity forced her to break through it. "How'd you and your sister end up working for him anyways?"

"It's a bit of a long story," he warned her.

"Yeah, I guess we could just walk for hours on end in complete silence instead," Amber quipped with a smirk. "C'mon, I wanna hear this."

"And if I refuse to tell it?" Rictor asked with a chuckle.

"Then I'll just have to pester you the whole trip."

"If I must."

"You must, you must."

"Six years ago, when Sabine was no older than I am now and I was but a child, she was a cadet of the Acostan battle mages and I was a hopeful squire trying to earn service to a knight. We both found ourselves following the army when it marched off to war with Drechsel. However, Sabine soon saw the dark lengths our leaders were willing to go to in order to win the war. So one night she spirited us both away. We couldn't return home as it'd be the first place they would look. We'd be tried as deserters and executed for sure."

"They'd put children to death?" Amber asked with shortage of disgust and disapproval in her voice.

"We were technically soldiers and a part of the Acostan army," he told her. "What we did was considered treason."

"That's still disgusting," Amber hissed.

"Well, this plan didn't go as well as planned however and we found ourselves set upon by cutthroats. What limited magic my sister had at the time served to keep them at bay for a time, but she was soon exhausted. So I, only ten years of age and barely able to hold a man's weapon, picked up the sword we'd stolen during our escape and tried to fight them off. "

"So very brave," Amber commented with a glow of approval. "How many did you beat, ten, twenty?"

"None," Rictor replied with a grin. "They took the sword from me and proceeded to beat and kick me as though I’d just stolen a loaf of bread from them."

Amber flinched at the answer to her question. "Ouch, well, next time you're telling it to a mare, talk about how you won the fight, try and impress her ya know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Rictor replied with a chuckle. "Well, eventually they were ready to just kill me, it was around that time one of Rourke's arrows buried itself in one of their necks just before Ogrham came roaring from the bushes. Needless to say, untrained bandits faired very poorly against a dwarven battle priest and an archer hiding in the woods.

"After that, they took us in, mended our wounds and fed our empty bellies. Since we couldn't return home without being arrested or possibly executed we chose to stay with them. Sabine's magic made her invaluable to the team and when I became old enough I joined them in the field as well. It's not always honest work but I continue to adhere to the code of chivalry, even when it puts me at odds with Rourke."

"I'm starting to see why they call you a squire," she said with a soft smile for the young man. "Somepony like you doesn't belong out here living like a mercenary; you should be in a palace somewhere protecting a princess or something like that."

Rictor gave her a faint smile. "Aye, maybe one day. So, how did you become a guardswoman?"

"I grew up hearing all these stories about my uncle and his adventures as a member of the Night Guard," Amber said with a wide smile on her face. "Couple that with my love of comic books and well, let's just say that I would've gone insane if I'd kept my part time job at Barnyard Bargains."

"I take it from the other night's stories that things didn't work out so well."

"Pfft, you could say that again," Amber grumbled. "Almost the same day I graduated basic training these six mares ended up getting some kind of magical super powers. Now they go around mopping up any and all problems around Equestria. I mean, one of them even became an alicorn. She became an alicorn. How does somepony even do that? Go from unicorn of impressive power to super powerful princess with earth-shattering magical power?"

"Don't get me wrong," she quickly added. "I mean, they do good work and I've even met a few of them: real stand up girls, nothing personal against any of them. But, I mean, it's like the universe was going out of its way to make sure that they were right there for all the most important moments in recent history. And believe me, there have been a few."

"Such as?"

"Let's see, there was the return of our exiled princess Luna who came back as Nightmare Moon and tried to blot out the sun forever. They blasted her back to normal in the span of one night. There was the changeling invasion of our capital city of Canterlot. That only lasted like an hour tops, but at least I got to fight somepony when they tried to push into the catacombs where we thestrals set up shop. Then there was the magical return of the Crystal Empire and it's despot ruler, I heard they helped crush that one in a day. Then there was the return of the dreaded Lord Tirek who went around gobbling up all the magic in Equestria and destroying everything in his wake. I actually got to watch that fight play out and it was actually pretty awesome. They’ve even stopped the avatar of chaos itself and then rehabilitated him into a good guy!”

"They sound like women of great renown," Rictor admitted.

"Yeah, I guess we've got some pretty cool heroes back home," Amber replied with a proud smirk.

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Ogrham hoisted himself up and onto the driver's seat of the cart and took the reins in his metal clad hands. With a quick whip of the leather straps the beast of burden began to lumber forward. As their small caravan started to slowly move, Rourke pulled himself up onto the cart beside the dwarf.

"The lass looks ta be right pissed with ye," Ogrham said.

"Let 'er be," Rourke replied sharply. "She either learns how things work or she learns ta fend fer herself."

"They all think ye went too far with yer lesson."

"An' how far do ye think the Imperials would'a gone if he'd managed ta crawl back home?" Rourke asked him. "Not ‘bout ta let Red Fields get razed ta spare’er feel’ins.”

"Speak'in of, take it things went well with Thornbrook," Ogrham said with a snort.

"The good sheriff feels it'd be best if we didn't come back ta town fer a while," he replied. "I found m'self persuaded to agree with him on this matter."

"An' Krissy?"

"She was... understanding of the situation," he said with a frown.

"She's the one what gave ye the shinner ain't she," the dwarf asked with a smirk.

Rourke pulled his hood further down to hide the shame in his face. "Aye..."

As he'd expected, his stout companion erupted into a hail of boisterous laughter that nearly caused him to lose control of the wagon. He flinched when the wide, heavy hand of his companion landed squarely upon his back with nearly enough force to throw him from the cart. Grumbling several choice words in dwarf, Rourke turned his attention away from him.

"Bah, don't be such'a bab'eh 'bout it," the dwarf chided him. "Serves ye right though, fallin’ fer one'a them fey girls, can't predict 'em I always say. Shoulda jus' stayed with that nice girl from the Rockfist clan that was sweet on ye."

"Not a fan of’a woman that can lift me over ‘er head," Rourke shot back. "’Sides, I like Krissy - she's a sweet wee lass who puts up with my shenanigans."

“Ye ain’t right boy,” Ogrham said with a shake of his head. “So, besides gettin’ tossed outta Red Fields, what’s takin’ oos all the way ta Crestfall?”

“Our ol’ friends in the rebel ranks’ve asked us ta check on the town,” Rourke told him. “One’a their spies heard ‘som’thin’ ‘bout an’ Imperial missave that mentioned the place.”

“Bah, job sounds too borin’ fer our lot,” Ogrham said dejectedly.

“After what happened today I’ll take whatever job gets us out’a Redfields fer’a time,” Rourke said with a chuckle.

“S’long’s the pay’s good.”

“Pay’s gonna be good,” Rourke assured him. “Pay’s gonna be plenty good.”

Next Chapter: Crestfall Estimated time remaining: 24 Minutes
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