I never really believed in Celestia, but I also didn’t have a problem with her. Why should I? She seemed a decent enough ruler. Not perfect, but she’s only equine. I’m just a lowly crook, I’ve got no room to judge.

That’s how I used to look at things. Now I’ve seen her hoofwork.

The Archons mean a lot more to me now than a mere paycheck. I’ve met two members of the Order. I’ve learned what they’ve been through, what they’re doing under Celestia’s hawkish gaze. I feel like there might be something there, something worth my time. Something better than the petty revenge I wasted so much time to.

I’m just a crook. That’s all I’ll ever be.

Here’s hoping even a crook can do the right thing every now and then.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
November 12, 1002
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007

Caballeron never expected Fleur to readily accept living out of a tent so soon after their return from the Mongolian plateau. Yet that is exactly what she did, purchasing the proper supplies from the town and jumping right back in without so much as a groan.

She was in Ponyville at the moment, gone to collect the other Archon that had been sent to help deal with the ongoing crises. It appeared ‘the Great and Powerful’ Trixie was a tyrant, having claimed the entire region as her domain. Still, she didn’t make for an impressive show; her villainous deeds included such things as making ponies drag her golden throne around with no wheels, trying to get the local farms to grow unrealistic produce such as skinless apples, and changing every banner and flag to bear her image. He wondered when she’d upgrade to stealing candy from yearlings.

There was little to do in the nearby Whitetail Woods. He spent his time practicing with Boomer, writing in his journal, and wandering the local forest. In his boredom, he was considering heading to the town to see if he couldn’t meet Fleur halfway, just for the change in scenery. It was at around this time that the mare finally returned, followed by a white pony with a shockingly blue mane and the tackiest shades he had ever seen. The newcomer was a unicorn, and her horn pulsed with a barely visible aura.

“Cruelles,” Fleur said as the two of them came upon the unlit campfire. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

“As entertained as I can be,” he grumbled. He studied the stranger, noting how she wasn’t looking directly at him. “Who’s this?”

At the query Fleur stood between them and gestured to each in turn. “Cruelles, meet Vinyl Scratch, musician. Vinyl, Cruelles Caballeron, archaeologist.”

He was half-tempted to correct her on the title; he was not an archaeologist, not anymore. But he resisted in the name of expediency, instead offering Vinyl his hoof. “A pleasure.”

“Back at ya.” A pause. Vinyl’s horn gave the tiniest of pulses, and her attention promptly snapped to his hoof. Only then did she bump it.

That was… strange. Perhaps it was best not to dwell on it. “So, you’re here to give us some instructions?”

“That’s right. From the princess herself.”

Out the corner of his eye, Caballeron noted Fleur’s wince. How bad could it be? Surely Celestia would understand the circumstances. He was probably in far more trouble than her. “Alright, what’s the news?”

Vinyl grimaced and sat. When Fleur did the same, Caballeron decided to follow her example. “Alright, I’ll just get to the point,” Vinyl said. “Trixie is not to be touched. She’s free to do as she wants. The amulet stays around her neck until Celestia chooses to send somepony else to deal with her.”

Fleur let out a low groan, but Caballeron found the news appealing. It was out of his hooves. Now they could move on to other things. His pleasure faded quickly upon realizing that he didn’t really have an ‘other thing’ to move on to.

Before he could go any further down that train of thought, Vinyl continued. “You two are to stay here and observe. Strictly non-interference.”

His ears shot up. “Wait, what? You mean we’ve got to become residents of that boring little town and submit to that overgrown child’s antics until Celestia says otherwise?”

“No.” Vinyl’s head turned his way, but her focus appeared to be somewhere over his shoulder. “You two are to stay here, in the woods, and keep an eye on that ‘overgrown child.’” She said the last two words with a growl.

Caballeron narrowed his eyes at her. If she was so angry by his terminology, why wouldn’t she look in him the eye? “And what are you going to be doing? Or are you just a message bearer?”

“I’m gonna be in Ponyville. Also watching.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up. He turned to Fleur, but she had her head bowed in clear defeat. When she had nothing to say, he turned back to Vinyl. “What the hay makes you so special that you’re allowed to live in town?”

“You’re the ones that bucked up,” Vinyl replied calmly. She tilted her head Fleur’s direction, but again, failed to look at her directly. “No offense, Fleur.”

Fleur responded with a despondent “None taken. It’s the truth.”

“And besides, my orders don’t come from Celestia, only yours do.” Vinyl’s ears folded back as she glanced away. “The Mane Archon… gave this one to me.”

“Gave it to you?” Caballeron raised an eyebrow at that. “As in you requested to be part of this miserable duty? What the hay for?”

Vinyl pursed her lips, head bowing just slightly. She seemed to be carefully considering her answer. At last, voice subdued, she said, “Trixie and I have history.”

“So you’re going to be in town, enjoying a comfortable bed and the local amenities, while we’re—”

“Cruelles.” He looked to Fleur, who was watching him with a hard expression. “Don’t.”

He growled. “You’re okay with this?”

“There are things at play here you don’t understand yet,” she replied with no less firmness. “Vinyl has every right to be there. She’s owed this.”

“Owed?” He glared at Vinyl. She was staring off into space. “You got a problem looking me in the eye?”

Her expression hardened. Fleur let out a faint hiss. Caballeron only continued his stare. Who did this creature think she was? Just because he wasn’t an Archon, she could treat him as if he wasn’t even there? He wasn’t about to let this aristocratic foal—

His venomous thoughts sputtered out when Vinyl slowly raised her hoof, pulling her shades away from her eyes. The moment they were gone, the air around her head flickered and shifted until, like a grotesque flower, burn scars bloomed across the upper half of her face. Ensconced in those rough bumps were two pale red eyes that gazed without focusing on anything. Her horn pulsed once, and those muted irises shifted to his face… but not quite to his eyes.

“Yes,” she replied with cool calmness. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Caballeron felt a tightness in his chest. He couldn’t stop scowling, but his anger was no longer directed outward. “I… see.”

“I don’t.” The shades were replaced as quickly as they’d been removed, and the scars disappeared instantly. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to explain the Alicorn Amulet.”

“Please do.” Fleur’s voice was almost as chilled as Vinyl’s had been. “I’m sure Caballeron won’t interrupt you again. Isn’t that right?”

He said nothing. His tongue might betray him again.

Once clear that he had nothing to add to the conversation, Vinyl started in earnest. “There’s nothing too complicated about the Alicorn Amulet. According to Celestia, it’s primary purpose is to up the magical power of the unicorn wearing it. The idea, of course, is that it gives a unicorn alicorn-level strength. Right now Trixie’s got more magical oomph than most ponies could even dream of.”

Fleur nodded. “I was afraid it would be something like that, which is why I didn’t engage her from the beginning.”

Vinyl raised a hoof, stopping Fleur before she could say whatever else was on her tongue. “Thievery won’t work. I know you’re good at that, Fleur, but don’t try. The amulet can’t be slipped off her neck from the shadows. According to Celestia, it can only be removed by the pony wearing it.”

A short stomp was all Fleur needed to show her opinion on that matter. “Wonderful. So much for this being easy. And what else?”

“Just one other thing.” Vinyl cringed and turned her face away. The corner of her lip pulled back to show her teeth. “The amulet corrupts the user. Every minute Trixie wears the thing, she’ll get more and more depraved and vicious.”

“Oh.” Fleur’s eyes widened and her ears drooped. “Oh, Vinyl. I’m so sorry.”

Vinyl snorted and shook her head. “I know you are, Fleur. It’s alright. Well, no, it’s not, but I understand things were out of your control.”

Despite lacking a lot of context, Caballeron flinched. Neither mare looked at him, and the fact made him want to slink away. Perhaps he could hide in one of the tents until the fire in their eyes died down a bit. But no, he’d never get away with that. What was it about this situation that made him feel like the bad guy? Not that he wasn’t used to the feeling.

After an uncomfortable silence passed, Fleur finally spoke up. “Alright, so Celestia wants us to wait. How long?”

“She didn’t say.” Vinyl sighed and rubbed her mane back with a pout. “Of course.”

Fleur blinked. “You mean she intends for me and Cruelles to stay out here until she sends somepony else to deal with Trixie?”

“Yep.” Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “Fine said he’d give you some oversight duties while you’re here, things that can be handled with a scroll and a teleportation potion. Just to keep you busy with Archon stuff and make it not a complete waste of time. You know the princess.”

“Yes,” Fleur growled, “I do.”

Caballeron could take it no more; he had to speak up. “Am I missing something?”

Fleur pierced him with her icy gaze. “Odds are we’re going to be out here for a long time.”

He took in their forested surroundings and recalled how bored he’d been the last few days. “How long?”

“Weeks for sure,” Fleur replied, turning away from him. “Possibly months.”

With a long-winded groan, he slumped onto his barrel. “I can’t believe this. Why? What possible purpose could that serve?”

“Purpose?” Vinyl snorted and turned away. “The ‘purpose’ is the personal suffering of all involved. You two get to watch the consequences of your actions from the sidelines, unable to do a damn thing about it. I get to watch somepony close to me steadily ruin her future and become the target of hate and bitterness for the rest of her life. And then, somepony else comes in and claims the credit for putting an end to the mess. Possibly Celestia herself. Maybe her apprentice. Either way, the four of us?”

“Four of us?”

Vinyl flicked her tail, jaw tensing. “You, Fleur, me, and Trixie. One big miserable…” A wine escaped her throat as she sagged. “Family.”

“Best get comfortable, Cruelles,” Fleur grumbled from by the tents. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

“You there!”

Caballeron cringed. Not at the obnoxiously loud voice. Celestia help him, he was actually getting used to that. No, what brought about his folded ears and grinding teeth was the awareness that this particular outburst had been aimed at himself. Granted, there was no way he could predict that Trixie would actually look at him, much less call him out, but this was still exactly the opposite of what was supposed to be happening.

Looking up from where he’d been sitting on the park bench, he peered at the now-infamous Trixie Lulamoon. She lounged upon that golden monstrosity of a throne, the four sweaty earth ponies who had been pulling it taking a clearly needed break. Laying on her side, flicking her mane like the Bridleway diva she so clearly wasn’t, Trixie leveled him with a cool, red-eyed stare down her muzzle. The Alicorn Amulet taunted him from about her neck with its similarly red glow.

They had discussed this, Fleur and Vinyl and him. They had a protocol. To Caballeron it was the equivalent of poking nails in the leading edge of his frog, but he’d agreed to it because he’d had no choice. And so, keeping his grumbling to himself, he climbed off the bench and approached.

He had to play to her whims. “What can I do for you, Great and Powerful One?” He didn’t have to keep the disdain from his voice.

Trixie’s eyes narrowed. There came a flash within her irises, a now-known sign that the amulet was pressing some sort of ill desire into her mind. Caballeron did his best not to brace, aware that doing so may only make his situation worse.

“You will refer to Trixie by her name, slave. The opportunity to utter it is nothing short of a brilliant gift upon all ponies’ ears, and you insult that gift by not invoking the name Trixie at every opportunity. Do not spurn Trixie’s kindness again!”

Choking on his tongue, it took a few seconds for him to formulate a ‘correct’ response. “My apologies. What can I do for you, Great and Powerful Trixie?”

She gave a derogatory sniff and turned her face away, eyeing some random nothing in the distance. “Trixie is worn out from gracing the peasants with her glorious presence. Fetch Trixie some refreshments, so that Trixie may cool off.”

That was all? Well, at least he hadn’t been saddled with something extreme. “As the Great and Powerful Trixie commands. Is there a particular refreshment she would desire?”

She waved her hoof dismissively. “Do not pester Trixie with such details. Go.”

So he went, happy to be out of her presence. Vinyl had no doubt witnessed this little exchange and would be moving to intercept him. Weird how she could do that when she couldn’t see the shades on her face. She had some magical means of observation, but he’d yet to figure it out and neither she nor Fleur deigned to educate him on the matter.

Sure enough, he’d hardly left the park when a familiar voice spoke from his left. “She likes lemon water. There’s a decent bakery down Trottenheimer Street with some.”

He glanced at Vinyl, who trotted alongside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “How do you know so much about what she likes?” When Vinyl didn’t answer, he ‘harumphed’ and made for the aforementioned bakery. “Might as well grab something for us while we’re there.”

They walked in silence amidst the tasteless banners and flashy neon signs that had been conjured out of nowhere a few days ago. The bakery was soon in view. Curious how, despite the current circumstances, business appeared to be going on as usual. Did Ponyvillians just go with whatever was happening at any given time, even if that something was a megalomaniac on a power binge?

As they entered the store, Vinyl asked, “How are you and Fleur holding up?”

He paused to look back at her. This was the first time she’d expressed any interest at all in their circumstances. What was she after? A quick look around confirmed no pony was paying them any attention. “We’re doing well enough for two ponies forced to live in tents on the outskirts of a town that still has a perfectly good inn.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable behind her shades. “Sorry you have to put up with this.”

“Are you really?” He stepped into line behind the only other customer at the counter.

“I am, really.” Her tone lost just a touch of its neutrality, taking on a weary manner. “I know what it’s like to be caught in something you never wanted to be a part of.”

He might have said something to that were it not his turn at the counter. As he gave his order to the frazzled mare running the register, he idly wondered how long it would be before they were obligated to serve Trixie-themed items. He posed the question and was rewarded with a tired smile. The mare informed him that, no, Trixie had not come into the shop with such demands just yet, but now that he’d mentioned it they should probably start brainstorming for the inevitability.

With Trixie’s lemon water in hoof – and a couple apple juices and sandwiches for himself and Vinyl – he turned his attention back to his companion. “I complain, but I only do it because there’s nothing better to do. I’ve spent at least two thirds of my life living out of tents.”

Vinyl took the sandwich and her juice from him without having to be prompted. “Thanks. Yeah, I figured you’d be fine. Fleur’s… well, let’s just say she’s going back to her roots.”

They stepped back into the street. Caballeron took his first bite of his BLT and concluded that it was well worth the bits. If Ponyville had anything going for it, it was the citizens’ apparently universal desire to make high quality products. “I’d ask your meaning, but know you’d not tell me anything.”

“That’s right.” She nibbled on her own lunch, brow furrowed. “Not because of the job, though. It’s private. You wanna know that bit, you gotta get it from the horse’s mouth.”

“In other words, if Fleur doesn’t tell me, nopony will.”

“Yep.”

That was… fair. “And I don’t suppose you’ll be opening up to me anytime soon?”

An eyebrow rose from behind the shades. He idly wondered if it was really hers or part of the illusion. “Sorry, dude, but I barely know you.”

Also fair. And seeing as they would probably never see one another again after this ‘mission’, he promptly gave up on learning anything about her. “In that case, is there anything you can tell me for the sake of making sure our friendly local leader doesn’t turn me into a red smear on the ground with that artifact Fleur and I worked so hard for?”

It was several steps before he realized Vinyl was no longer at his side. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw her with head hung low and shoulders limp. Great. What did he say this time?

“It won’t come to that,” Vinyl whispered. “She’s… she’s better than that. I’m sure of it. Trixie’s a good pony. She is.”

He listened to her mutterings, shifting as he waited. What was she going on about? He finished his sandwich, too focused on Vinyl’s distraught appearance to properly enjoy it. When he finished the meal and Vinyl still hadn’t looked up, he cleared his throat. No response.

“Miss Scratch?”

She tensed, but only for a moment. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she resumed walking, though her posture only barely improved. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

She didn’t go with him to see Trixie, disappearing into a side alley once the park was near. Her manner continued to plague him. Why did this bother him so much? Not even Trixie tossing the lemon water in his face could distract him too much from the troubled thoughts.

“It’s warm! Go get Trixie another!”

Fleur was in one of her moods. Caballeron, sitting with his forelegs resting on a nearby tree stump, lost interest in his book and instead focused on his companion. She sat by the fire, magic slowly stirring the pot that contained their stew. Very slowly. She was staring at the pot’s contents as if it were responsible for the death of her parents, lips pursed and eyes burning. Her breathing was heavy and deliberate, as if even that were part of her careful actions.

What had set her off this time? It wasn’t anything he’d said, as he’d not said anything to her in a few hours. They did that a lot lately; long, quiet spells where both were content to just be in the same space. Such periods were once awkward. Now they were natural. Caballeron sometimes even found himself looking forward to that part of the day, when they had both had their turns observing Trixie’s shenanigans and had nothing to do but hang around the camp.

But sometimes, like now, Fleur would get moody. He never knew what might cause it at any given time, and he could at least take comfort in that fact that he wasn’t the source. Usually. She rarely spoke during these times, and he typically chose not to pester her about it. As much as she had the capacity to grandstand, he was coming to learn that Fleur was a much more private individual than appearances would suggest. Perhaps it was an Archon quality.

Yet this evening he felt… differently. The urge to talk was stronger than usual. As much as he feared the possibility of offending her when she was already in such a bitter state, he also knew she could be the most pliable at times like these. He gave his odds of coming out of a query unscathed thirty/seventy. Not great, but he wanted to risk it tonight. Why he wanted to risk it, he couldn’t fathom.

“Are you alright?”

Her ear flapped, as if to be rid of a mosquito. “I’m fine.”

Basic survival instinct told him to leave it at that. He ignored it, getting up to approach the fire. He settled perpendicular to her position and watched. Her focus on the stew was intense. He half wondered if her gaze made the fire redundant. “I can take over if you need a break.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Some cruel spirit took hold of his foreleg, and before he knew it he’d set it in the way of the steadily rotating spoon. Fleur’s shoulders tensed even more as she looked down on him with a withering frown. “What are you doing, Cruelles?”

He said nothing. Only stared back at her with a patience he’d forgotten he had.

They remained that way for an indeterminable time, her looming and him calm. He knew he should be frightened by her manner, but he couldn’t feel any such thing. Perhaps a few weeks of mundanity had made him willing to deal with any excitement, even the kind that might get him killed. Or perhaps he’d spent so much time with Fleur that he was coming to know how far he could push. That, combined with the concern he fought less and less to deny to himself every day. It was so rare for him to work with any one pony for more than two weeks, and Fleur…

How long had he been working with her?

His thoughts helped him weather her menace. She, it seemed, had no such defense against his unyielding presence. So it was that she broke first, her head turning back to the pot as her gaze softened. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be directing my anger at you.”

“It’s fine.” He tilted his head to better see her face. She moved to avoid his look. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—” She bit her lip, and clenched her eyes closed. She shook from tail to ear tip before releasing a long, slow exhale. “Why do you want to know? It has nothing to do with the mission.”

That only made him want to know more. Now it was his turn to look away. “You’ve read my file.”

She cast a glance at him. Slowly, her lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. A warm one that made him blush. Him. Blushing. What was he, a pubescent colt? Not that it had anything to do with her looks, not this time. He hadn’t felt this way since… since before his time in prison, come to think of it.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I suppose I have.” Turning her attention back to the pot, she resumed stirring. He thought perhaps that would be the end of the ‘conversation,’ if it could be called that.

But then Fleur spoke again in a thick accent he’d never heard from her before. “Did I tell you I vas born in Grypha?”

The words gave him pause. “N… No.”

There was that small smile again. “Is not common knowledge,” she admitted. When she spoke next, the accent was gone. “From the pieces I’ve managed to pull together, my great grandmother did something that offended Celestia. She moved to Grypha hoping to escape, and the Archons elected to leave her be. I was born in a small, rural town in the Griffa Plains.”

She raised the spoon. Tilted it. Watched the soup pour back into the pot. “My mother died in childbirth. I had two older brothers. They and... and the stallion who sired me blamed me for her death, and they treated me accordingly.”

The spoon fell, splashing into the pot. “I was trash. They ‘permitted’ me cook them their meals every morning. They got eggs and hay bacon and veggies. When they were done, I’d get a porridge slurry. I didn’t get to eat lunch. I got supper only if I behaved. Of course, ‘behaving’ meant only speaking when given permission, making sure their meals were perfect every morning, and hiding in my room: the closet under the stairs. If I so much as batted an eyelash out of line, I’d get a beating.”

Her fiery gaze had returned, and she set it upon him now. “But you know what the worst part was? When I went a full day without a beating and a half-full belly, I really thought I’d been ‘good.’ I honestly believed that I was being rewarded.”

When he could do nothing but stare, she sighed and turned back to the soup. The spoon lifted in her aura and began stirring once more. Slowly. Without need. Without purpose. “The Mane Archon’s very first solo mission was to murder my family. And he did. I watched him bash my brother’s skull in. But he defied orders to spare me and, in time, took me on as his apprentice. My life has been infinitely better thanks to him.”

The spoon came up. She blew on its contents a few times, then took a small sip. She did not smile. Did not show any indication if the soup tasted good or bad. She merely stared, dull-eyed, at the spoons contents. “I don’t cook for myself very often. It reminds me of a time when I was cold. Hungry. Dirty. Content in my miserable ignorance. Back when I actually liked cooking, because it was the one and only time I was permitted to use my magic without risking a beating.” A beat. “Needs pepper.”

“That’s…” Caballeron didn’t have the words. He tried to envision the life she’d just described, but somehow knew his imagination paled in comparison to reality. To think that this commanding, lovely, powerful mare had been born in such conditions…

“The pepper, please?”

“Oh… right.” On stiff legs, he entered their tent and rummaged through the small bag of ingredients they’d collected from the town. It was slow going. He as too busy thinking about little fillies shivering under stairs, covered in welts and bruises. Was that the kind of background all Archons came from? He hoped not. He’d heard of child abuse before, but this threw off all his old impressions of the concept.

He had the pepper. He stared at it between his two hooves. They had pepper.

Pepper. Such a simple commodity. He never thought about it before. Always in his pack when he went traveling. Easily obtainable. Like so many other things. Pepper. Flowers. Milk. Soap.

Had Fleur ever used soap as a filly?

Realizing she was waiting, he shuffled his way back outside and offered her the pepper. She took it with a quiet thanks and sprinkled some into the pot. They sat in quiet contemplation together, listening to the crickets and the crackling fire.

Her eyes drifted to him. “You’re getting that look.”

“What look?”

“The pity look.”

He met her gaze, expecting indignation or frustration. All she offered was a dull, listless expression.

“Yeah,” he muttered. No point denying how he felt.

“It’s alright,” she said, ears folding back. She took another sip of the soup. “I was pretty pathetic back then. Please don’t mind my moodiness.”

She offered to let him taste from the spoon. He did. She wasn’t a bad cook. Not the best campside meal he’d ever tasted, but definitely above average. He nodded to her, and she returned the gesture. Two ceramic bowls levitated from a nearby bag, and soon the two were sipping quietly together.

His soup was halfway finished when he spoke up, not daring to meet her eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll cook from now on.”

A moment’s hesitation. “You don’t need to do that.” When he said nothing, she sighed and nodded. “If you want.”

“B-but we don’t have that kind of magic! We can’t make apples grow like that!”

Caballeron watched from behind some bushes as a unicorn couple groveled before Trixie, who glared down her nose at them. Vinyl was at his side, her face turned away and a scowl on her lips. They were on the outskirts of Ponyville, on the road that, if followed to its origin, would ultimately lead to Canterlot.

“Is this your excuse then? Your pitiful reason for trying to abandon Trixieville?” Trixie thrust her hoof at the smoldering ashes that had originally been the couple’s chariot. A few yards down the road lay two ponies – the drivers – unconscious and blackened. Not dead, or so Vinyl claimed, but not in good straights, either.

The stallion’s voice was muffled from his muzzle being planted in the mud. “P-please, forgive us, Great and Powerful Trixie! We only wanted—”

“I know what you wanted, you ungrateful swine!” The stallion rose, a red aura wrapped about his throat. He flailed, forehooves grasping the at the magic as he choked. “Trixie needs worshippers, you ignorant creature. They must serve and obey and be ready to spread her glory to the four corners of Equestria!”

Face as red as her magic, Trixie shook the stallion by the throat, violently. “How do you expect Trixie’s slaves to survive if agricultural peasants like you abandon them? How?”

The mare jumped to grab the stallion, attempting to stop the shaking. Tears streamed down her yellow cheeks. “P-please, stop! You’re killing him!” The shaking continued for a few more seconds, and then the magic faded. The stallion, face blue, collapsed atop his wife, hacking and sucking down sharp breaths.

“Consider this your only warning,” Trixie hissed. “If you dare try to leave Trixie’s domain again, she won’t stop with just a little shaking. Trixie will pop that head off completely and give your farm back to that lowly hick of an earth pony! If you try, Trixie will know.”

She disappeared in a red flash, leaving the mare to sob over her husband. He moved, but didn’t seem capable of getting up. Caballeron glanced at Vinyl, whose horn gave off those now-familiar little pulses.

“I think she broke something,” she said quietly, still not looking towards the scene. “Not life threatening, provided he stays down and waits for help.”

It was at that moment the mare began screaming for help, making Caballeron wince. “That won’t be us, will it?”

She shook her head. “Too risky for our cover.” She turned and marched off, going deeper into the woods.

Caballeron cast one last look at the couple before following. “She’s getting a lot worse,” he noted once they were far enough away from the scene. “At this rate, she’ll be killing ponies by next week.”

“It won’t come to that.” She didn’t sound as confident as she had a month ago. “Trixie is… She’s better than that.”

He let out a low growl, more to show his frustration than anything else. “How can you know that? If you ask me, we should take her out before she does something—” He was blinded by a flash of red. He soon realized it had been a magical beam. Following the path it had taken right before his muzzle, he spotted a black spot on a nearby tree, still smoking.

In an instant he was in Vinyl’s face, teeth bared and legs ready for action. “Did you just try to kill me?”

Vinyl was undaunted. For the first time since he’d met her, it seemed as if she were truly meeting his gaze, as impossible as that might seem. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was a coldness to it that might have chilled him were he not already boiling. “No. That was a warning shot. Nopony harms a hair on Trixie. If they do, they die.”

A snort in her face. “Is that Celestia’s mandate?”

“It’s my mandate,” she returned with a hiss, horn glowing brightly. “I won’t let anypony hurt her.”

He stomped and thrust a leg out, indicating their wooded surroundings. “And I am sick and tired of standing aside doing nothing while she gets worse and worse! We need to do something.”

“Don’t act as if you care about her victims,” Vinyl countered, still not raising her voice despite the bite of her tone. “All you care about is finding another tomb to rob or a whore to pound.”

Her statement was like a slap in the face, and Caballeron reeled. “That’s not… I…” It had been true. It was true.

Wasn’t it?

Floundering for some kind of defense, he barked out, “And why do you care so much?”

The shades came off. The scars returned in all their hideousness. And the menace in her muted eyes, even if not aimed directly at him, was finally enough to quiet the bubbling cauldron within his mind. “I got this way for Trixie. I’m willing to lose a lot more. What have you sacrificed for the pony you loved?”

The heat came back in a flash, and it was took all Caballeron had not to leap at Vinyl. “I lost the mare I love!”

“And that’s terrible. My sympathies.” Her glare didn’t fade an iota. “But what did you ever sacrifice for her?”

“My career! My life and future—”

“Bullshit.” Vinyl’s tail flicked. She stomped a step closer. “You lost your career because you were framed, not because of her. After that? You threw away your life for your own petty revenge. You didn’t give away a damn thing because she would have wanted you to.”

“I…” His argument died on his lips, because deep down he understood one thing: she was entirely right. He’d known it for so long, but to acknowledge it out loud like that stung more than he’d ever imagined. “I… I gave up my hunt for Yearling. I sacrificed that for—”

“That’s not a sacrifice!” Vinyl sat, crossed her arms and shook her head. “That’s called ‘growing up.’ You could have done it years ago if you’d just had the balls.”

“I… Y-you… I don’t…” Caballeron didn’t know how to feel anymore. Insulted? Guilty? Angry? He spent several seconds sputtering and wishing he could form some kind of argument. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood he hadn’t a leg to stand on. Gradually, the half-baked defenses and justifications faded from his mind, flooded out by a creeping, heavy weariness.

He stared at his hooves and sighed. “I’m a selfish bastard, aren’t I?”

Vinyl replaced her shades and turned away. “In your defense, you’re getting better.”

At first, he planned to let her walk away. But then he realized something and jumped to his hooves. “Wait. You never answered my question. Why are you so protective of her?” She paused, head hanging low, but said nothing. So he continued. “You’ve been watching Trixie almost as long as Fleur and I have. You know she’s only going to get worse. Shouldn’t we stop her before she takes the next step?”

“We can’t.” Vinyl’s response was quiet, almost a whisper. “Celestia won’t let us. Even if that wasn’t the case, we can’t get the amulet off her ourselves, not without killing her first. I’d rather join Trixie and fight the Archons than let that happen.”

He approached, moving slowly for fear she’d take his actions as a threat. “But why? What is Trixie to you?”

Her head turned towards him, but only halfway. He could see her wide eyes at this angle, the irises shifting wildly as if chasing something in her vision. It was some time before she responded.

“She’s my little sister.”

Of all the things she could have said, that was not one he expected. He pictured Trixie in his mind – an easy feat considered he’d been watching her so closely almost every day for well over a month. “I… don’t see a resemblance.”

“I adopted her.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Wait, you can do that? Adopt a sister? I thought it only worked with parenting.”

Vinyl huffed a resigned sigh and dropped to her haunches. “Technically speaking, I am Trixie’s legal guardian-slash-parent. But personally? Yeah, we’re sisters. I took her and Ammy in the moment I turned eighteen.”

“Ammy?”

“Littler little sister.”

“Ah.” He moved to sit by her, and she didn’t object. “But Trixie has seen you a few times since this started. Why wouldn’t she recognize you?”

Vinyl pursed her lips. Her brow furrowed in thought, and he got the distinct impression she was wondering how much to tell him. He didn’t press her. Now that he had a kernel of the truth, he didn’t think it would be right.

The thought might have made him chuckle were the mood less somber; when did he ever become concerned about the feelings of others? He checked that little room in his mind, hoping for an answer but not expecting one. Sure enough, it remained vacated, collecting cobwebs as its former tenants failed to return. It almost made him lonely without that devil and Silty there to act as his guides.

Vinyl’s deep, preparatory breath pulled him from his thoughts. “Celestia happened. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say Trixie has no memory of our life together, and Celestia won’t let us remind her. She’s forever l-lost to me.” Her ears drooped at the crack in her voice. She seemed composed, but the subtle shake of her lower lip gave away her turmoil.

Caballeron felt an increasingly familiar sensation taking hold of him. Pity, first discovered with Fleur and now pestering him with Vinyl. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have Silty alive and practically in his grasp, but unable to reach her for reasons beyond his control. The idea was as sobering as it was terrifying.

He suspected Vinyl was on the knife’s edge of her self control. Would it be right to press any further? Maybe if he changed topics… “And what of the ‘littler little sister?’” He dearly hoped that was a happier direction for this conversation.

“Ammy?” To his pleasure, Vinyl smiled. It was a fragile thing, but still an improvement. “She’s in Canterlot right now, in a legal battle to get her father’s mine placed in her name. It’s her inheritance, y’see.”

He blinked. “Her father owned a mine? What kind?”

“Gemstones,” she replied as if it were a small matter.

Caballeron choked on the words. “G-gemstones? She’ll be set for life if she wins that!” His shock was promptly traded for an entirely different thought. “Why didn’t she inherit it naturally?”

“The ‘if’ is the big deal,” she replied with a scowl. “Ammy is – and I use this term only because it best highlights the situation – a half-breed.”

“A half-breed?” Caballeron chuckled at the very thought. “You mean one of those actually thinks they’ll hoof her the deed to—” Vinyl’s entire body tensed. “—I… mean… How interesting.”

Vinyl’s tone grew hard once more. “You fiancée was a unicorn, right?”

What did that have to do with anything? “Yes?”

“Assume you were still together, and going to have foals.”

He tilted his head, trying to understand her meaning. Even back when Silty was alive, he’d never thought about kids. And yet, now that Vinyl had suggested it... It would have happened. Surely. Caballeron had wanted to spend the rest of his life with Silty. He’d have been happy to… to… “Oh.”

Abruptly, he felt like the dumbest stallion alive. His foals would have been half-breeds. Just like that, he saw his entire relationship with Silty in a new light. How would his own children have been treated? Where would they have gone to protect them? Would he have given up his career, or brought them along on his digs? If he’d had foals with Silty, he didn’t doubt he would have done everything in his power to save them from the stigma of racist pigs like…

Like himself.

He wilted on the spot, digging his hooves into the soft grass and failing to look Vinyl in the face. “I really am a bastard.”

Vinyl said nothing. That only made it sting worse. Eager for something to take his mind off his dour self-loathing, he muttered, “So will she get it? Her mine?”

“Maybe.” The harshness in Vinyl’s tone faded, much to his relief. “If Celestia interferes? Not a chance. But even without her acting against Ammy, there’s no guarantee the court will give it to her thanks to her lineage.”

Raising his head was like trying to lift an anvil with his teeth, but Caballeron pulled it off. He studied Vinyl’s thoughtful, concerned expression. “Can’t you intervene on her behalf?”

She shook her head, paused, and then shrugged. “Technically? Sure. But my Little Sparkler’s been fighting for this her whole life. Getting that mine back has been her dream. She studied hard, graduated early, did all the legal studies, worked at mines all across Equestria and even some beyond. She has slaved to gain the knowledge and experience necessary to prove to anypony who dares challenge her that she could reopen that mine and make it into a successful business. If I pulled some strings as an Archon to guarantee she gets it back, that’s… that’s kinda like robbing her of the glory. She deserves to win this on her own merits, not because of some nebulous secret order she doesn’t even know I’m part of.”

Caballeron had to admit, he couldn’t argue against her logic. He stared into the forest, wondering at the lengths he might have gone for his own children. “And it all could come crashing down because of a single judge she has no control over.”

“Or Celestia.” Vinyl nodded, expression grim. “Ammy’s done all she can do. There’s nothing left but to wait.” She kicked at the grass with a pout. “And instead of being there for her, making sure she’s got the emotional backup she needs, I’m stuck here, watching over another sister who I can’t actively help. It’s the definition of suck.”

He glanced at her. “I thought you said you’re here of your own volition.”

The casual shift of her head might have been mistaken for a glance if he hadn’t known better. “I am. Ammy can take care of herself if she needs to. She’s strong like that.” The pride in her tone was impossible to miss, just as much as the sadness of her next words. “But Trixie? She doesn’t know anything, on a level far deeper than you can guess. Part of why I joined the Archons was so that I could ensure she was being watched over and cared for from behind the scenes, in a way that wouldn’t defy Celestia’s orders.”

Her face turned away, and she seemed to gaze into the twilit foliage. “I love her, Caballeron, but the most I can do is watch and, when the shit hits the fan, try to alleviate the damage. And this?” She waved at their surroundings. “This is the biggest mess she’s been in since she got cursed. I have to be here. Somepony has to look out for her.”

She stood and walked off, headed in the general direction of Ponyville. “We’ve lingered too long. I gotta keep an eye on her.”

Caballeron made no attempt to follow, watching as she disappeared among the bushes. His mind was sorting through this new information, trying to piece together things that contradicted his old perspectives. A Trixie who was more pitiable than villainous; an Archon whose interest was more benign than he’d ever imagined; a Celestia pulling strings to make horrible things happen for no reason other than she could. But the strangest thing?

“I thought the Archons were supposed to be evil.”

“Oh, the Archons are evil,” Fleur said nonchalantly over her bowl of pasta. “At least, as far as the public is concerned.”

“But why are they evil?” Caballeron spooned some of the meal from the pan into his own bowl. “That’s what I don’t get. What purpose does it serve to pretend to be something you aren’t?”

“Something you are not.”

“Whatever.” He sat down and scowled through the steam. “Vinyl told me about her relationship with Trixie. Or non-relationship, as the case may be. She’s…” His frustration faded for a weariness he’d been feeling ever since his talk with the blind mare. “She’s got good intentions. Admirable purpose. What is a pony like that doing in the ‘most evil’ order in the world?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Fleur asked before taking her first bite.

“Yes, but… It just doesn’t make sense.” He sniffed at his meal, finding he wasn’t all that hungry. Still, he forced himself to eat; no point in weakening himself.

Fleur studied him as she chewed, an attentive expression on her face. Upon swallowing, she spoke. “How do you look at Celestia?”

“Well…” He paused upon realizing he was speaking with his mouth full. At one time he might not have cared, but it seemed an insult to do so in front of Fleur, so he waited until he'd swallowed. “I never thought she was the ‘one true good’ so many other ponies did, but I never thought she was bad, either.”

“Then you are a rare breed.” Fleur had another bite, and Caballeron waited patiently for her to finish. “Most ponies? Celestia is the holiest of holies. The goddess that makes this world bright, literally and figuratively. She is harmony incarnate, and she has cultivated that image over a thousand years through us. We take on the appearance of evil so that Celestia can maintain the appearance of good, even if neither role holds even a grain of truth.”

He said nothing to this, instead wondering about her explanation. They ate quietly, the crackling fire and crickets once more providing their distraction.

“This is very good, Cruelles.”

“Hmm? Oh. Thanks.”

The quiet resumed. Caballeron squirmed. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but did he dare ask? Fleur appeared to be paying him no mind, but he knew she was more observant than she sometimes seemed. She surely knew he wanted to speak, but rarely encouraged him. Still, they had developed… a rapport? Something. She didn’t seem to mind talking nowadays. Perhaps if he entered into this slowly…

He glanced at her. She was busy spooning herself seconds. Licking his lips, he asked, “Celestia really screwed up Vinyl’s life, didn’t she?”

Fleur met his gaze, then went back to her meal. He knew enough by now to recognize the lack of denial for what it was.

A breath. Two. “Did she… do anything to you?”

Those violet eyes met him without accusation or anger. There was, however, hesitation. Uncertainty.

Sadness.

“Forget it,” he whispered, huddling over his half-full bowl. “I don’t need to know.”

Back to listening to crickets and crackling flames. Back to his ignorance. Back to wondering how bad things really were.

Fleur’s voice startled him. “Ever heard of the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

He almost got whiplash from jerking his head up to stare at her. Her fleeting glance only made the energy flow out of him even faster. “I knew it! That really was an Archon job!”

Her pained expression promptly faded to confusion. “What do you mean, you knew? How could you know?”

He spread his hooves wide. “The most corrupt city in the world going crazy and slaughtering itself? A raging inferno taking most of it to Tartarus? Princess Celestia immediately sending in peacekeeping forces to calm the situation? Everything about Sīṃgakh had ‘Archon job’ written all over it. I still can’t believe so many ponies across Equestria bought the cover story.”

His attention shifted at the same time she did, and the realization slammed his heart into his throat. “You were there.” Her head bowed. “You oversaw the destruction?” It bowed lower.

He blinked, enthusiasm falling away to cold understanding. “You were… on the ground? You took part in the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

The quiet returned in all its uncomfortable non-glory. Fleur wouldn’t look at him. She closed her eyes and heaved a long, slow breath. “I wasn’t supposed to be there. Fine Crime tried to protect me from it, but I was young and stupid and determined to prove myself as an Archon. So I sneaked into the city. I thought it would just be some sort of high profile assassination, or maybe a major disruption of the politics of the area.”

She shivered, shuffling a little closer to the fire. When she opened her eyes, there was a weariness in them. And guilt. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Celestia cast a spell turning every creature in the city into raving, violent animals. It took only seconds for the place to turn into a warzone.”

The words entered Caballeron’s ears, but they provided no logic. He shook his head, pursed his lips. After a moment’s consideration, he finally spoke up. “Why would she do something like that? What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Fleur actually laughed, but it was a cold, bitter thing. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you? Celestia is a monster, Cruelles. She’s every bad concept imaginable all rolled into a single equine package.” She turned to him with a smile as hard as her laugh had been. “Celestia had Sīṃgakh destroyed for fun.”

Caballeron almost accused her of joking, but her tired expression and slumped posture held his tongue. “For… fun?”

“Fun.” She nodded and turned back to the flames. “She does it every quarter century or so. Before Sīṃgakh, it was the Crystal Rebellion. Did you know Governess Cadance was unwittingly planted by the Archons into her position? Of course not. She was the perfect kind of pony, given just the right tools and resources and position, possessing exactly the kind of ambitious, moral mind necessary.”

It seemed too farfetched, but Caballeron asked the question anyway. “Are you suggesting that the entire rebellion was engineered to happen by the Archons from the beginning?”

Fleur nodded, the flames reflecting in her eyes. “It was before my time. A thirty-year project, or so I’ve been told. Over a hundred thousand lives lost to both sides, just for Celestia’s amusement. And the instant the rebellion was over? She started plans for Sīṃgakh.”

Really, what she was saying was outrageous.

And yet… what was too outrageous for an immortal alicorn at the height of political, military, and magical power? With centuries to scheme and concoct. He might have made an argument for the immorality of all Fleur suggested, but what was morality to a pony above ponies? When something lived forever, watching generations pass in the blink of an eye, surely they looked upon life and death through a very different lens.

Immortal. Immoral. Did those two concepts go hoof-in-hoof? Caballeron could just imagine it: a Celestia sitting atop her ivory tower, playing games with the lives of millions simply for the sake of alleviating boredom. The concept sent a shiver down his spine.

And what about this mission? Perhaps it was all nothing more than a bit of minor pleasure. A little distraction to bide her time before the next Sīṃgakh or Crystal Rebellion. A game, with Trixie and Vinyl in the center of it, but only one aware. What must it be like to know the truth and be unable to do anything about it? He imagined only a cruel mind could conjure such a situation.

Caballeron never considered himself a fanciful or imaginative individual. That part of him wanted to deny Fleur’s statements, wave them away as an Archon keeping the veil of secrecy intact. Yet after spending so much time with her, and seeing the vehemence in Vinyl’s conviction…

“Why do you work for such a creature?”

Fleur had returned to her meal. At his utterance, her eyes became hard like diamonds. “I work for Fine Crime, not Celestia. My loyalties are to him, and only him. And I promise you that every Archon in service today will tell you the same thing.” A moment’s silence as her gaze softened, brow furrowing in thought. “Well, almost. I can think of one exception, but his loyalties certainly don’t go to Celestia.”

“Okay, fine. Then why does Fine Crime serve Celestia?”

She cocked her head, appearing as if she’d just been asked whether grass was green. “Because he has no choice.” She must have seen his dissatisfaction, for she sighed and set her now-empty bowl aside. “It’s probably not something I should be telling you, at least not at this time. And frankly, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

Yet Caballeron made no move to go to his tent. Fleur’s words bothered him, and he stared at the fire in silent contemplation for some time. She wasn’t going to talk about Fine Crime, but she’d already revealed so much. Vinyl had, as well. He was picking up the pieces gradually, learning more about the Archons than he had in all his time working with them, and that was a long time. Why were they so willing to talk about so much now, and why stop talking after having told him what she had?

And what did she mean, ‘not at this time?’

Caballeron got so very little sleep that night.

They were sitting at the table of a closed café. A great many shops had shut down since Trixie’s arrival, primarily because deliveries had stopped coming in. Trixie made a point of interrogating every pony who came within her unseen detection field, and those interrogations were getting more and more dangerous for the interrogatees. Nopony had died, but Trixie’s gradually escalating violence had left many a pony in the local hospital – now filled almost to capacity – and shipping companies were no longer willing to risk it.

Ponyville’s economy was in a state of freefall. Citizens were unable to escape. Visitors found themselves trapped. Celestia had sent an envoy to discuss terms – Fleur referred to him as a sacrifice, Vinyl as a chew toy – and the poor stallion was now sitting next to the mayor in a large birdcage. The local farms were more than capable of producing enough food for the citizenry, but beyond that? Basic amenities were getting dangerously low.

And yet Trixie remained, currently basking in the sun with two large stallions fanning her. For all the trouble she’d caused, she looked as though she hadn’t a care in the world. An illusion, of course; the moment anypony did the slightest thing out of place in her presence, the Alicorn Amulet would come to life and the magic would fly. Probably with some choice insults and certainly with some self-gratifications thrown in the mix.

Caballeron hardly cared right now. His mind was too preoccupied with a conclusion he’d drawn the night before. He didn’t know whether or not that conclusion was frightening or promising. He’d spent all morning debating with himself on the matter. Now he found himself pretending to loiter at the café with Fleur and Vinyl, the mares keeping a close eye on their target and he keeping a close eye on them.

At last, he came to the conclusion that he’d never know the truth without asking. So, without giving them any prior warning, he blurted out, “Am I being recruited?”

Vinyl’s and Fleur’s heads whipped towards Caballeron in perfect synchronization. Vinyl’s expression wasn’t clear from beneath her shades, but Fleur’s jaw had dropped in clear shock, and it was she who asked “Whatever would make you say that?”

He gave them both a firm look. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Not much else to do.”

They continued to stare at him – or almost at him, in Vinyl’s case – for a while, then looked to one another. They smiled in unison, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. More… predatory. It was the kind of smile that made Caballeron realize he may have made a grave mistake.

“I don’t know what makes you think we’d ever want to recruit you,” Vinyl said casually, seeming to turn her attention back to Trixie.

“But even if we were,” Fleur said, focusing her smirk on Caballeron. “Do you really think we’d spoil the game by telling you?”

He hesitated, but Caballeron realized there was no point backing down now that he’d taken the plunge. “You’ve been telling me a lot.” She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to go on, so he did. “I know your backstories now. Where you come from and what you do, all that stuff.”

“Assuming we were telling you the truth,” Vinyl threw in seemingly offhand.

“I think you have been.” He looked between them, then to Trixie. “Before she got involved, I was supposed to deliver that thing to your boss personally. I used to question why he’d demand that when you, Fleur, are more than capable of doing it. Doesn’t ‘application process’ fit the bill?”

Fleur leaned against the table, chin cupped in her fetlock as she studied him. “Nice theory, if a little self-confident.”

He shrugged. “I never said I’d get in.”

Vinyl chuckled. “The fact you think you might be a candidate at all speaks volumes about your ego, dude.”

He huffed, hunching over the table and crossing his arms. “Well, didn’t the two of you want to join the Archons?”

“Nope.”

He blinked. “Wait, you didn’t?”

“Nope,” Vinyl repeated. “I hated them. Feared them. Heck, before I joined I was more likely to try kicking Fine’s teeth in than join up.”

Fleur nodded solemnly. “I was only a child. I didn’t even think the Archons were real, and next thing I know I’m on the team. It was either that or an early grave.”

“Oh.” He let that sink in before scowling. “This still doesn’t prove I have an ego.” Their shared smirks brought a fire to his cheeks, but he elected not to take their bait. “Look, I just put the pieces together. Why else would the Mane Archon want to see me?”

“Oh, there could be many reasons. Maybe he wants to get rid of you quietly, or perhaps—” Vinyl sat up straight, her ears perking and her horn giving off rapid pulses. “Shit.”

Fleur snapped into business mode instantly, her expression going neutral as she sat up straight. “What is it? What do you see?”

Vinyl raised her hoof. “Hold on. Making sure. Don’t wanna jump to conclusions.”

Watching in curious fascination, Caballeron tried to trace her vision. He knew by now that she used the pulses of her horn as some sort of magical echolocation, so he wasn’t surprised to see that she was looking beyond the nearby buildings. He never was able to peg down exactly how far her magic could detect things. Was it something close? Far? Either way, he regretted having left Boomer back at the camp.

“Shit.” Vinyl’s bared her teeth in a hiss. “Shit. Celestia’s played her hand, and it’s a bucking good one.” Her head slowly turned to follow whatever her pulses were detecting.

“Come on, Vinyl,” Fleur snapped. “Stop talking to yourself and tell us what you see.”

Vinyl glanced at her, and there was a visible tension in her manner. “Celestia’s student. She’s sicced her favorite pet on Trixie.”

Fleur’s lips flicked into a frown for all of an instant. “Twilight Sparkle. I wonder if Fine knew about this.”

As if her words were a summons, smoke appeared just before her face. Caballeron had seen that happen a few times, and just as he expected, a scroll dropped from the rapidly dissipating cloud. Fleur caught it in her magic without so much as a flinch and ripped off the ribbon. Vinyl paid this no mind, her head still slowly turning to follow the newcomer.

Caballeron watched Fleur as she read through the scroll’s contents. He’d heard of Twilight Sparkle, but only in passing. He wondered what was so great about her, or why her arrival bothered his companions so much.

“Typical Celestia,” Fleur muttered, disintegrating the scroll with a flash of her horn. “She didn’t tell Fine about this until a few minutes ago.”

“What are our orders?” Vinyl asked with no less professionalism.

“Twilight’s here to ‘deal with’ Trixie.” When Vinyl’s head snapped towards her, she added, “Nonlethally. We let her do the job and grab the amulet at the first opportunity.”

“Got it.” Vinyl was off, trotting for an alley across the street. Fleur stood up and disappeared seemingly into thin air.

Caballeron just sat there, staring at where she’d been. “Um… and I’m supposed to do what, exactly?” He raised an ear, anticipating some answer from the empty air, but none came. “Well then, in that case…” He turned his attention back to Trixie, who hadn’t moved from her spot in the park. He would act if necessary, but right now he was better suited on the sidelines.

About a minute later, a group of ponies appeared from behind some nearby bushes. They were all gathered around a lone lavender unicorn, whom Caballeron assumed was the famous Twilight Sparkle. She trotted along, talking to her admirers with a chipper smile and a bounce in her step. She looked for all the world as though she were merely on an afternoon stroll. Pretty mare. Surprisingly young. The petite creature didn’t appear dangerous, but Caballeron had enough experience with unicorns by now to know better than to think that way.

As the chatter grew louder, Trixie squirmed where she lay, face twisting into a frustrated scowl. She abruptly sat up, blasting the two muscular stallions away with a gust of wind. “Who dares interrupt Trixie’s cat nap?”

Twilight, now only a few yards away, stopped to stare at Trixie as if only just noticing her. The ponies around her shied away from the tyrannical pony, giving the two mares plenty of space. “Oh, Trixie! What are you doing in Ponyville?” It seemed for all the world like she was merely greeting a friend.

Trixie spun around to face her visitor, jaw dropping and eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. “T-Twilight Sparkle?” The tiny mote of fear in her voice had Caballeron raising an eyebrow, but she recovered quickly. Sitting up tall and raising her muzzle high, Trixie fired off a lopsided smirk. “At last! You’ve finally come to accept the Great and Powerful Trixie’s challenge. Trixie will be honest, Sparkle; she didn’t believe you had the guts.”

Twilight studied her frog with a bored expression. “Challenge? What are you talking about?”

Trixie’s poise faltered, but only for a moment. “Do not feign ignorance! You’ve come here to face the Great and Powerful Trixie in a magic duel. But you’ll find Trixie is more than ready for you this time, you charlatan!”

Lowering her hoof, Twilight cocked her head. “Why would I challenge you to a magic duel? Seems rather pointless.”

Sputtering, Trixie stomped a few times and growled. “Pointless? This is not a game! Ponyvile is mine, and you’ve come to try to reclaim it!” Her ears folded back as she added, “Right?”

“Yours.” Laughter, cruel and mocking. “I’ve got news for you, Trixie. Celestia sent me, but not to deal with you. I can say with confidence she doesn’t even know your name.”

A fire lit in Trixie’s cheeks, almost enough to rival the brightness of the Alicorn Amulet. “L-lies! The Great and Powerful Trixie is known throughout Equestria. Why else would Celestia send you here but to defeat Trixie in solo combat?” She pawed at the earth, horn shining brightly. Onlookers fled instantly at the sight, and soon the park was empty save for the two mares and a quietly observing Caballeron. “But Trixie will best you this time, Sparkle. And then Celestia will have no choice but to recognize Trixie as the greatest unicorn!”

Twilight stared at Trixie as one might a foal who had just claimed she would become the next Princess of the Sun. Shaking her head, she replied, “Celestia named Ponyville as my demesne not twenty-four hours ago. I just came here to pick a spot for my tower.”

After pondering this information, Trixie gained a predatory grin. “Your demesne, you say? In that case, Trixie guesses it is Trixie’s demesne. Trixie conquered it before you ever got here. You want it back?” She stomped before setting herself in a defensive pose, leads spread and horn aimed. “You’ll have to take it from Trixie!”

“A Trixie with the Alicorn Amulet, no less.”

“Hah! You recognized it?” She sat back and patted the amulet around her neck with a smug smile. “With this, Trixie is undefeatable.”

“Right.” Twilight rolled her eyes before flashing her horn. An item flew up from her saddlebag: an amulet shaped like her cutie mark, tied with a simple cord. Casually, she slipped the necklace on. “There. That should put things back in order.”

“What have you got there, Sparkle? A good luck charm?”

“Actually, Celestia made this for me.” Twilight copied Trixie’s earlier motion, patting her amulet. Her smugness rivaled Trixie’s. “Should be enough to let me beat your trinket.”

“Trinket?”

The battle began with fire lightning. Not fire and lightning, but literally fire jolting through the air with the shape and speed of lightning. It took only seconds for Caballeron to realize his decision to stick around may have been faulty. He half-leapt, half-collapsed out of his chair as Trixie’s third shot obliterated the table he’d been sitting at. Despite landing painfully on his back, he didn’t take his eyes off the two mages as they dueled.

Except… Twilight wasn’t fighting. Not really. All she appeared to be doing was teleporting from place to place, dodging each of Trixie’s rapidfire assaults with an ease that left Caballeron uneasy. How powerful was she if she could cast a spell known for its challenging difficulty with such ease? Taking a moment to survey the smoldering remains of the table was enough to remind him that he really didn’t want to get caught between these two.

But he couldn’t just leave! Scrambling to his hooves, he ran for the nearest cover; a collection of shrubs by a two-story home. Sizzling bolts, high-pitched beams and frustrated cries filled the air, the latter mostly consisting of less flattering variants of “Hold still, you insufferable smartflank!”

Caballeron skidded around to the relative safety of the bushes – which didn’t feel safe at all after he saw an entire wagon fly over his head! Still, this was no more dangerous than his usual outing with Yearling. He’d never fled from one of those, had he?

But then, he’d always had a reason to go after Yearling. What reason did he have to be here? Fleur and Vinyl could take care of themselves. And, he reminded himself as a beam of blue energy carved a pony-sized hole into the nearby house, an obligation. It was their jobs to get the amulet. For all intents and purposes, he was naught but a hanger-on, held in place only by the vague promise of retribution should he attend to his own desires.

Nebulous, uncertain desires. What did he want to do? He’d only followed Fleur because she’d been giving him a direction.

But… was that true anymore?

As the magic and frustrated screams became a mere background noise, his thoughts focused on the last few months. He hadn’t spent so much time with any one pony since… Silty. Fleur was no Silty, but she was an interesting individual. Intelligent. Entertaining when she had the mind to be, confident in most instances, fragile in a very few. He’d seen her at her best and worst. And now?

He groaned and rubbed his forehead with both hooves. “Stupid files and their stupid accuracies.”

Shoving his way through the branches and brambles, Caballeron took stock of the situation. Twilight was still doing her rapidfire teleportation thing, dodging everything that a tiring Trixie had to throw at her. From the look of things, Celestia’s student had yet to even throw up a shield, much less a counterattack. What was her angle?

At last, the attacks ceased. Trixie stood with legs spread, breath coming in heavy gasps and horn actually glowing red from heat. She glared at Twilight, who wasn’t even breathing hard. “How? How can you cast so many teleportation spells so quickly?”

With a smirk, Twilight stuck out her chest, her necklace bouncing from the movement. “With this, of course. You’ll never beat me so long as I have it.”

Trixie scowled. “Is that so?” In a flash, her expression shifted to a wicked grin. Before Twilight could react, the necklace was snatched away, cord snapping from a violent pull.

“Hey!”

Caballeron’s jaw dropped as Trixie swiftly removed the Alicorn Amulet, replacing it with Twilight’s necklace. “A-ha! Now Trixie will become the ultimate—” A purple beam half as big as she was smashed into her chest, sending her flailing across the grass.

The Alicorn Amulet dropped to the earth, innocuous.

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Twilight said in a dry tone. She approached Trixie, eyes narrowed as her opponent stood on wobbling legs. “You actually thought the necklace made me stronger, didn’t you?”

“Be quiet!” Trixie snarled and fired a beam.

Twilight struck it aside with her bare hoof. It didn’t even leave a burn mark.

Trixie paled. “W-what? How? Trixie saw it, you were overpowered! Nopony can teleport that fast naturally!”

“True.” Twilight paused, standing over the Alicorn Amulet. Caballeron doubted the positioning was a coincidence. “Nopony could. That necklace doesn’t enhance general magical ability. All it does is make teleportation spells require a lot less magic.” Her smirk broadened. “You don’t know how to teleport, do you?”

Panic bloomed in Trixie’s gaze. She began to tremble, violet eyes shifting from the necklace she now wore to the amulet just between Twilight’s forelegs. “T-Trixie can still beat you. She can!” Her horn started to glow, catching the Alicorn Amulet in a blue aura. It barely got an inch off the ground before Twilight summoned a small purple ball of energy that slammed at a downward angle into Trixie’s cheek. The former tyrant dropped like a sac of bricks.

Twilight stood in silence, apparently waiting for Trixie to get back up. When she didn’t, she traded her smirk for a frown and sagged. “That wasn’t as satisfying as Celestia said it would be.” Her eyes lingered on her groaning foe. “Why’d you have to come back, Trixie? I asked you to keep away, didn’t I?”

She bowed her head, only to find the amulet still lying at her hooves. “Well, at least this is all behind us.”

It was then that Fleur appeared, shimmering into existence not a yard from where Caballeron was hidden. Her arrival sent his pulse racing, but he recovered quickly. Was this his cue? Probably. He pushed himself the rest of the way out of the bushes to stand at her side. A cursory glance showed no sign of Vinyl.

His movement caught Twilight’s attention. At the sight of the two ponies, her ears flattened against her skull and her tail tucked. She stared at Fleur as if she were a ghost come to claim her soul. She didn’t seem to notice Trixie coming to. Slowly, she turned her head to stare at something in the distance. Caballeron followed her gaze, only to end up looking at Canterlot Castle high atop the Lonely Mountain.

As she stared at the castle, Twilight’s entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes shrank to pinpricks and her knees buckled. She seemed to shrink in on herself, fear fading to a despondent, lost manner. Just as quickly, she picked herself up tall and hardened her expression. All of this passed in what may have been just five seconds, and then she cast a grim look towards Fleur and him. An uncertain glance from Caballeron revealed Fleur meeting Twilight’s gaze with her own stony expression.

Finally, Twilight heaved a sigh and turned for Trixie. “I have to do this ‘right’, don’t I?”

Trixie was trying to slink away, stumbling and dizzy, when the violet aura caught her tail. She let out a shout as she was dragged back, the force of the sudden pull dropping her back to her barrel. Wriggling, she turned onto her back and yelped as she found herself sliding back to Twilight. “W-what are you doing?”

The smirk was back on Twilight’s lips, but now Caballeron recognized it for the hollow thing it was. “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you? You’ve been a bad mare, Trixie.”

Trixie’s eyes went wide, the color once again draining from her. “No. Let me go! Please, i-it was the amulet! I didn’t mean for things to get out-of-hoof like—” Twilight walked past, dragging Trixie behind with her magic. “—help!”

“I think your cape would go excellently up on the school’s flagpole, don’t you?”

Trixie’s pleas faded as the two disappeared down the street, their passing marked by the small grooves dug into the soil by her grasping hooves. Caballeron almost felt bad for the mare. Almost. Maybe if she hadn’t been the reason he’d been stuck in this place for months, he’d have felt something more legitimate.

He did feel sorry for one pony, though. “Where’s Vinyl?”

Fleur walked towards the Alicorn Amulet, lying forgotten in the grass. “She has her own interests. We have what we came for.” She lifted the amulet in her magic, staring at the glittering red jewel at its center.

Caballeron approached, his eye drifting to where Twilight and Trixie had disappeared. Trixie’s cries were still audible in the distance. “Twilight Sparkle. She recognized you as an Archon, didn’t she?”

Fleur gave a halfhearted nod, her attention still on the amulet. “Indeed. She feared if she didn’t handle Trixie in a way Celestia would like, her situation would worsen.”

Worsen? So Celestia’s student was already on thin ice? A topic for later, but certainly an interesting one. He turned fully to Fleur. “What’s next?”

She studied him with one eye, expression unreadable. After some thought, she levitated the amulet to him. Hesitantly, he accepted it. “Next? You have a date with the boss.”

With a sigh, he turned to put the amulet into his saddlebags. “I guess it’s about time. Still don’t know what the Mane Archon wants with me.” When he looked to her again, Fleur failed to meet his gaze. “What?”

Her eyes shifted towards him, but only briefly. “That’s not the boss I was referring to.”

When her meaning registered, Caballeron felt his inside turn to ice.