It’s been ages since I last wrote to you. At least, it feels that way. But tonight

There’s a mare in my hotel bed. I picked her up from the last adventure. One of the monks. She thinks we have something special. I’m thinking I’ll be on the first train to Riverwood in the morning. She’s not the first I’ve left behind. And while I can see your hot pink glare, I know I’ll be at it again in a few weeks. I think. Maybe? Something about this time felt different. Wrong. It’s more than being unsatisfied with her performance, because – and I admit this to you with a shame I didn’t know I could have anymore – she’s very skilled.

I felt sick. The entire time. I kept looking at her, but it was never her. It was always you. You were giving me what I wanted, but doing so with this hatred in your eye.

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it’s the years weighing down on me. Maybe I’m finally losing it.

I’ll go back to doing it. I’m sure I will, because there’s only one thing that makes me forget.

But

I don’t want to anymore.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

April 11, 993

Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007

Aw, shit. Not again.

Those were the last words to cross Caballeron’s mind before his face met mud. Why was there always a copious amount of mud in temples, and why did he always find a way to put his face in them?

Her voice pierced his ears, neither taunting nor sympathetic. “Sorry, Caballeron, but I tried to warn you. See you at the next temple, I guess.”

Slowly, he raised his head from the muck, spitting some of the gritty gunk as he did. Too late; she’d already flown off. He considered trying to chase her, but after a few seconds simply laid his cheek back down in the mud. She had wings; he’d never catch her now. His muscles ached, his breathing barely below gasping, and his thighs still burned from that rope trap that had nearly torn his hind legs off. That particular tomb had been more dangerous than the average, and all he really wanted to do at this point was lie there and let his body complain.

So there he remained, protected from the jungle’s heat and bugs by a thick layer of cool mud as he considered his position – both literally and figuratively. When he’d started this mess four years ago, he’d been so confident in his ability to keep up with that wretched mare. This was his third time running into her on a mission for that obnoxious deer, and he’d not even come close. Even with his burning desire to break her neck, she’d gotten to the artifact ahead of him with minutes to spare. He might not have even gotten out alive had she not remained behind to help him.

He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Was he getting old? Couldn’t be, he was only twenty-six, and getting back into the hunt had done wonders for his health. His mind was as sharp as ever and his strength was the envy of other earth ponies. He had the passion, the focus and the purpose, but she was always one. Step. Ahead!

With a pained groan, Caballeron forced himself into a sitting position. He spotted a simple ramp running along the pit’s wall that would help him get out. Not a trap, then. Probably used for construction in some way, or storage. He limped his way out, body protesting every step. He removed his jacket, so tattered from the struggle that it easily slipped from beneath Boomer’s harness. Tossing it aside, he finally started up the ramp.

Next time, he’d always said. There was always a ‘next time’. But what if there wasn’t? His prior run-ins with Yearling had been sheer luck, this one included. The encounters came by virtue of the same information becoming available to the public at the same time. She must have a stellar information network if she was learning of things as fast as Chasing could deliver it to him. She became almost impossible to track once she stopped announcing her destinations publicly. Smart move, that.

As much as he wanted her to suffer, Caballeron couldn’t resist having a grudging respect for his enemy. That loathsome mare had… well, everything. For the first time since his quest for revenge had begun, he had the capacity to admit it: she was better. Smarter, faster, more resourceful, more capable. In every conceivable way save strength, Yearling had him outclassed. The thought might have been sobering if it had been building upon him for the last few months.

He found Boomer embedded in the thick trunk of a tree not far away. He rubbed his hoof along its smooth surface, recalling how Yearling had angled herself just so for him to lose his weapon. Had she planned it? Could she be that good? The idea seemed preposterous. But then, she wasn’t the one covered in mud without an artifact.

Shit, what am I going to say to Chasing this time?

With a first pull, he extracted the boomerang from the wood. With no small amount of snapping and popping, the large tree succumbed to its wound and fell to earth. Startled, Caballeron watched it fall with wide eyes. I didn’t think I’d thrown Boomer that hard.

Then again, he’d been at his most furious when they’d finally escaped the collapsing temple. Now that the excitement had passed, however, he just felt... weary.

He turned to glare at the ruin, now little more than a pile of busted stones and cracked engravings. He understood, the Collar of Dainn was a dangerous item, but did every place guarding something like that have to have some sort of self-destruct mechanism? Did it occur to none of those ancient cultures that once the temple or tomb or fortress or whatever was destroyed it lost its entire purpose? He wondered what was to stop the next band of adventurers from just digging up the ancient relic of doom after the last one group got crushed.

The little devil in the back of his mind gave a gleeful chuckle at the thought of him having to dig Yearling’s body from just such a disaster. From that perspective, perhaps the stupid things did have some use.

He swung Boomer back, setting it into his holster with practiced skill. After snapping the locking straps closed, he patted the weapon gently. “Don’t worry, buddy. I don’t blame you. We’ll get her next time, alright?”

Next time.

There was always a next time.

Caballeron never felt comfortable being in deer country. Oh, the tribals were friendly and kind folk, but they had an unfortunate habit of looking down on anything not a deer. As far as they were concerned, they alone understood how the world worked and all others were pitiable ignorants. Heck, he wouldn’t even begrudge them that – were ponies really any different? What made them so much worse was the way in which they made their self-conceived superiority known.

'No, I'm not interested in reading a book while I wait, it would only be some drivel about how violence is evil and the magic of nature is the greatest thing ever.'

'Thanks, but I’m not interested in discussing where the ponies went wrong with their modern society.'

'Sorry, but the unification of the tribes into a major superpower – and that term is used only with an appreciation of the audience in the room – and why that way is perfect compared to the rise of every other nation on Equus has been recited to me a dozen times already.'

And it always came with pitying smiles and soft words of ‘understanding’. By the time they finally left him alone before Chasing’s office, he was on the verge of strangling one of the foul tree huggers. He stood in silence for a while, giving his stomach a chance to settle from the ever-nauseating experience that was deer.

Deer homes, however, where fascinating things. They would plant a special ‘Abode Tree’ that grew to maturity in a matter of months. The handlers used their magic to shape the growing tree however they desired, turning the inside hollow and making rooms as per a client’s needs, and with but a simple spell, the growth could be stopped. The trees came in a variety of species with many options, from stronger wood for industrial applications to varying colors and textures for décor purposes. Chasing’s home, which he’d been told was nearly four hundred years old, appeared to be some sort of spruce.

They proved to be amazingly comfortable and aesthetic buildings. Caballeron often wondered if, should he ever retire, he might convince Chasing to lend him some handlers for a private tree home of his own back in Equestria.

The idea of retirement pulled him out of his musings. If he kept losing artifacts to Yearling, that time might come sooner than he’d like. Grumbling to himself, he pushed open the door to Chasing’s office.

That was all it took for him to know something was wrong. For starters, the magilights were off. For another, Chasing had a bad habit of inviting guests in boisterously, even when they were so rude as to not knock. The combination of darkness and silence created a blanket of ice that draped uncomfortably over his backside. Caballeron glanced about the hallway, but he was alone.

A trap? Had Chasing grown tired of his failures and—

Caballeron almost burst into laughter. Chasing would never solve his problems using such tactics. Why use violence when he could leave Caballeron penniless? Even for the cruel ones like his employer, deer simply didn’t do blood.

But then he realized that perhaps this was a trap after all. It could always be that someone else had decided to step in. What if Chasing had been shoved aside? He’d never mentioned having any powerful compatriots or rivals, but Caballeron wasn’t so ignorant as to ignore the possibility. The items that stag dealt in were a lot more than mere trinkets, after all. Who knew what nefarious individuals in the world had him on their bad list?

The better question: did Chasing being on somepony’s bad list also put Caballeron on said list?

To walk away would be the smart thing. If he was fast and lucky, he could be on the next train to Equestria within the hour. If it turned out that his suspicions were wrong, he could always find some sort of excuse. And if not, so what? Chasing didn’t own him. They worked together, no more, and there were plenty of others who would pay Caballeron for the prizes he collected.

Caballeron turned from the door… and paused. He asked himself a question he’d not thought of in years: what would Silty have wanted? Would she have run away at the first sign of danger?

The devil in the back of his mind scowled at this unexpected intrusion of its domain. Caballeron didn’t blame him. The question had come out of nowhere. But then, she had a habit of doing that lately. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he’d written to her. It had been right after… what was that filly’s name? He couldn’t say. He’d left her in a workhouse, where she could get three square meals a day and make an honest living until she found something to do with her life. Something legit.

That had been unusual. He normally would have disappeared like a phantom in the night, leaving the mare with naught but tangled sheets and a memory of his presence. But Silty… she’d pressed him that time, for whatever reason.

He was forgetting the current problem. Go, or investigate? He could almost swear that if he turned around now, he’d see Silty glaring at his backside. He glanced over his shoulder, feeling like a foal who’d been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar. The hall was empty.

The feeling didn’t go away.

The little devil within cursed up a storm. Caballeron declined the inclination to do so, preferring to go into danger silently. Anypony in the room would know he was entering, but he could at least pretend at an attempt at stealth. Lips tightly sealed and body tense in preparation, he slipped into Chasing’s office. The door remained open, just in case a hasty escape was needed.

Chasing’s office was spacious, to say the least. It rose up with four walls cornered by columns that the tree had been made to grow around, and the ceiling appeared as a four-cornered dome with vines and pine needle-covered limbs crisscrossing it. The effect always reminded him of a forest canopy, which was likely the intention. It had to be heck for the cleaning staff.

The far wall consisted of two windows that reached almost to the ceiling, but they were sealed behind massive red velvet curtains. The walls were covered in paintings and some of the more domestic artifacts of the world, showcasing their owner’s love for collectibles. Only one wall didn’t receive this treatment, but only because it was comprised of a vast bookshelf filled to bursting with old tomes. Chasing had once confided in Caballeron that he’d not read a single one; they were merely one more collection he possessed for the sake of having it.

All of this was shrouded in shadow. The only exception stood atop Chasing’s desk, nestled neatly between the two windows. Atop that sat what Caballeron knew to be a magic mirror of Equestrian make, used for long distance communication. The side facing him remained dark and empty, but a pale blue light glowed softly towards the opposite side. Against that lighting was a shadow of antlers that stretched tall and shifted lazily in the mirror’s ever changing aura. Even with the movement, the missing horn on the left side was a dead giveaway.

Caballeron eyed his surroundings, turning a slow circle. Seeing he was alone, he approached the desk, moving cautiously so as to make as little noise as possible. Upon reaching his destination, he hissed a sharp, “Chasing.” No response came. Flexing his shoulder for a moment, he stepped about the desk.

There was no deer. Only a pair of antlers, still attached to one another via a small piece of finely polished skull.

Caballeron closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. He was no stranger to death, but to see some creature’s body put on display like this left him with a cold feeling. He felt no anger or guilt for Chasing’s apparent demise; he’d never really liked the stag, and was certain the feeling was mutual. To know he was gone, however… It left questions. Many, many questions.

He tried to put pieces together. Clearly, Chasing had been dead for a while. One did not remove a piece of skull so neatly, even giving it a polish job, without having a bit of time available. But if true, did that mean the staff he’d only just spoken to were in on it? They had behaved the same this visit as they always had, so either they’d been unawares of their master’s demise or were incredible actors. Having seen one or two of the plays around these parts, Caballeron was confident it wasn’t the latter.

His contemplation was interrupted by the door to the office closing. It didn’t slam, it merely eased shut. Even so, the event put him on alert once more. Turning his back to the nearest window, Caballeron moved away from the desk. If he needed to escape quickly, he’d rather a long fall than a charge through the dark.

“Please, Mr. Caballeron. There is no need for alarm.”

Male. Older, perhaps middle aged. None of that condescension that eternally defined deer. No, this was probably a pony. He took he room in slowly, looking for the source of the voice. At last he spotted him; a pegasus stallion by the bookshelf.

Turning to face the threat, Caballeron shook his legs one at a time, readying them for whatever action may await. “I don’t know you.”

“No, I’m afraid you don’t.” The pegasus stepped closer, but paused when Caballeron lowered to a defensive crouch. “I am no threat to you.”

“Tell that to him,” Caballeron countered, tilting his head towards the antlers on the desk.

“Ah, yes.” The pegasus, his colors difficult to make out in the shadows, smiled. It was charming, which only disturbed Caballeron more. “Merely a declaration. For your sake.”

Caballeron sniffed. “Declaration of what?”

Sitting beside the desk, the pegasus plucked the antlers from the desk. Using a wing to adjust the mirror a little closer towards himself, he studied the gruesome display, never losing his smile. “A declaration that you no longer have to worry about what Chasing wants in your little agreement. You’re free to pursue your own goals.”

“That’s stupid.” Caballeron snorted to emphasize the point. “The stag was already helping me do that.”

“We know, but he also had his own agenda. Not anymore.” Tucking the antlers under a wing, the pegasus brought his smile back to Caballeron. “It was decided by… a certain individual that Chasing-The-Green-Wind knew and had gathered too much. We’ve confiscated certain parts of his collection, parts you would be familiar with.”

The tension, which had eased over time, came back to Caballeron’s body in an instant. “And me? Do I know too much?”

The pegasus shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. In fact, we would like to extend you an offer similar to the one you are already working on. You get all the same financial resources, a superior information network, and we’ll actually pay you. We are correct that Chasing merely paid for your needs?”

Clearly, this guy had an agenda of his own. In fact, it seemed this new player in the game was going to be worse than Chasing by miles. “I’m not inclined to work for somepony when I don’t even know their name.”

A wing flicked, and something flew in a slow, high arc. Caballeron caught it easily, his hoof snatching the object from the air on instinct. He felt his blood run cold; it was a medallion in the shape of a stylized sun. A very familiar sun at that. Nopony grew up in Equestria without recognizing the cutie mark of Princess Celestia.

“I trust that gives you an idea of the magnanimity of this offer.”

Caballeron’s hoof trembled, clutching the medallion so hard it may have cut into his hide. He looked to the pegasus, heart pounding. This isn’t happening. I never wanted to get involved with them. Anypony but them. “I’m l-less inclined to accept.”

The smile disappeared from pegasus’s face, replaced by a cold, emotionless stare. “Do you want Yearling or not?”

He took a step back, only for his rump to touch the curtains and the window behind them. “I… I can get her without you.”

“Can you? You’ve been doing a wonderful job so far.” This time, the pegasus’s smile was cocked and mocking. “She’s outrun you. Outwitted you. Outplanned you. Even her ethics are superior.”

“Ethics?” The sight of Yearling watching him dragged to a prison transport at the guard station in Estéril Pezuñas flared to mind, accompanied by a heat as the devil within him ignited. Only a supreme force of will kept him from lunging at the stallion. “Buck your ethics! You think she’s one of the good ponies? She’s a lying, scheming fiend with no thoughts towards anything but her financial and social glory! That bitch is going to pay for her crimes, and it will be by my hooves!”

The pegasus’s smirk only grew. “Yes, that’s worked out splendidly for you. Keep up the good work, mudpony.”

The little devil inside laughed even as Caballeron lunged. It didn’t laugh long.

Caballeron’s mind was just quick enough to recognize what was happening, but not quite fast enough to react to it. With a flare of wings, the pegasus drifted into the attack, moving sideways. It seemed as if he’d merely dodge, but then the knee of a hind leg rammed into Caballeron’s exposed stomach. Something cracked against the back of his skull an instant later, filling his vision with stars and sending him to the floor. The instant his face connected, Chasing’s antlers pierced the wood on either side of it. There was no use trying to stand, but he did anyway. The antlers held him down by the neck, not budging no matter how he pushed against the ground. He felt his stomach sink into the floor; he was a dead pony.

The pegasus’s voice snaked its way into his ear. “You see? This is what you gain working us. No more middling mercenaries who work based on their cut of the pay. No more having to go it alone when things get rough. You’ll have friends who are not just skilled at their jobs… but passionate about it.”

Even if the situation seemed dire, Caballeron felt his anger simmering once more. “I don’t need henchmen.”

The pegasus laughed in his ear. “As if an Archon would ever be your lacky! No, we pull the strings. Always.”

The antlers were jerked out of the floor. Caballeron stood, rubbing his neck where the skull had pressed against it. He didn’t turn around; he knew he was outclassed. Even so… “What happens if I say no?”

“You keep fumbling around in the dark,” the pegasus replied, tone light. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and catch Yearling before we’re forced to off her for getting in the way.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Caballeron doubted he could manage that. Losing Chasing meant losing his entire network. He couldn’t afford to keep that going, and even if he could, he didn’t have the mind for it. He specialized in solving puzzles and putting pieces together, but he had to have pieces to work with first. Without a strong list of contacts, he’d never keep up with Yearling.

But to work with the Archons…

The pegasus sighed. “Look. There are dozens of creatures we could turn to for this. They’d do it for half what we’re willing to pay you. But none of them have your experience and skill.”

Caballeron turned at last to study his shadowy companion. “None except Yearling.”

“True.” There it was, that infuriating smirk. The pegasus’s tail flicked as Caballeron growled. “She’s easily the best there is. But she’d never work for us. Morals are too… moral. Celestia has tasked us with getting the more dangerous artifacts out of circulation though, so she’s either got to cooperate or face the consequences.”

The pegasus raised Chasing’s antlers, examining them as one might a trophy. “We could have dealt with her already, but we thought she would sweeten the pot in your case. Unless, of course, you’ve had second thoughts about your revenge?”

Caballeron scowled as he considered the options before him. It certainly sounded like a good deal, which made him all the more suspecting. He’d never get a leg up on the Archons, but what possible information network could match them? He’d always have a head start on Yearling, and that idea alone made it worth examining the deal more closely. But then, he’d have Celestia’s bloodhounds constantly breathing down his neck. The very concept of working with the Archons struck him as little more than suicide, or at best a pact with Tirek.

Then again, does that really matter?

He’d already lost so much. His career, his reputation… Silty. He closed his eyes and could easily see her as her eyes rolled back in her head and she gasped her last breath. The image left him hollow, like an egg with no yolk. He’d lost so much, and if he worked with the Archons, surely he’d lose his life too. They’d keep him around so long as he was useful, but the moment they didn’t need him, what then?

But to get his vengeance…

At last he opened his eyes. “I want—”

“You want?” The pegasus’s tone held a dangerous edge as his eyelids lowered.

Caballeron ground his teeth to keep from snapping. “I want to be the one that brings Yearling down.”

“Oh.” The pegasus was all smiles once more. “That we can do. And here I thought you’d ask for something ridiculous. You want her? You can have her.” He offered his hoof. When Caballeron made no move to bump it, he shrugged and let it drop.

Ear twitching, Caballeron glanced around the dark room. Knowing it to be ridiculous, he still half expected there to be some contract he had to sign with his own blood or whatever. His inner demon found the idea amusing. His stomach roiled in protest of what he’d just tacitly agreed to, but he’d already committed himself. He needed a path to Yearling, and Chasing was no longer around to offer it. Better Celestia’s hounds than nothing.

“We’ll contact you in, say, a week. You’ll find a paycheck in your hotel room.”

Caballeron turned to ask something, but only darkness met his gaze. He took in as much of the room as he could, but found no sign of his new, unexpected ally. How could a pony disappear like that without magic?

The Archons. Never in Caballeron’s life had he imagined he’d be in league with them. Celestia might be the pinnacle of all that was good and holy in the world, but even goddesses had to defend the nation. Who was the Mane Archon now? They’d had a new one come along in recent years. Caballeron couldn’t remember the name, only that he was said to be even worse than his predecessor. Worse in what capacity, he had no idea, nor any inclination to find out.

The rabid demon that Celestia kept chained to her hoof, ready to destroy whatever she begrudgingly deemed necessary. That was who he worked for now, and the thought sent shivers down his spine. Even the devil within felt uneasy.

But he couldn’t back down.

“I’ll get you, Yearling,” he whispered in the dark. “Even if I have to sell my soul to do it.”

He tried so very hard not to think of Silty’s crestfallen face as he left the office.