The next morning, the rising sun shone through the eastern windows of the Heartstrings Manor, peeping through the curtains of one of the guest rooms on the third floors. Awakened by the warmth of the sun's rays, Lyra opened her eyes to behold the sight of her wife curled up against her on the queen-size bed. "Morning, love," she cooed, nuzzling Bon Bon to wake her up.

Bon Bon yawned and stretched, slowly stirring. "You're never awake this early," she grumbled, smacking her lips.

"First one out of bed gets dibs on the pancakes!" Lyra replied, bounding out from beneath the covers. Bouncing over to the window, she opened the curtains wide to let in more sunshine, welcoming the morning. Looking out into the grounds, she allowed herself to become lost in the nostalgia of being in her childhood home again. She remembered climbing every tree on the grounds, and helping her mother with her rose gardens out in the western patches, and...

Hmm. She didn't remember her father ever taking visitors this early in the morning. Nor did she ever remember him being so angry. Peering closer, Lyra saw that Clover Step was standing in front of the grounds, talking to a group of three ponies, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted. The visitors, all of which were dressed in darker coats, only smirked at him in reply.

"What is it?" Bon Bon asked, seeing Lyra's tension in her stance.

"I don't know," Lyra said. Hurrying out of her room, Lyra ran out of the manor and onto the grounds, standing some distance behind the arguing group.

"For the last time, you're not getting a single cent from us!" Clover shouted at the lead visitor, a tough-looking unicorn with matted straw-blonde hair and a broad, snake-like smile.

"You really should reconsider your position," the unicorn replied, his smile never faltering. His two friends leered over Clover, whose tail trembled slightly, betraying his fear. "A generous donation to a charitable organization could do much to ensure the legacy of the Heartstrings family."

"Ah, piss off and go stick some thorns up your arse!" Clover snarled. "The Heartstrings will never support you!"

A dark look passed over the unicorn's smiling face. "You'll pay, my friend," he hissed. "You'll all pay, one way or another."

And before anypony could do anything to stop him, he turned and fired a spell from his horn, striking the oak tree from which Lyra's swing hung. Instantly, as if it was struck by lightning, the entire tree burst into flame, crackling furiously as it burned.

"No!" Lyra and Clover shouted simultaneously in horror. The trio of visitors turned and hurried away while they were distracted.

Thinking quickly, Lyra raced back to the manor, grabbing a bucket in her magic, then sprinted down to a nearby creek. Filling up the bucket with water, she hurried back to the tree and dumped the water onto the burning tree. The fire hissed angrily at her and flared up again as if in defiance.

By now, the entire house had been roused. "What happened?" Bon Bon asked in alarm, flinching away from the fire.

"Form a line and help me with this!" Lyra shouted, passing the bucket to her. The group of ponies quickly formed a line between the tree and the creek, passing buckets back and forth in an attempt to fight the fire. It took almost a half hour of work, but the fire was eventually put out. But it was a hollow victory: the tree was fully scorched, smoke rising up to the sky and snapped-off branches falling to the ground. All that remained of the swing was a couple of burnt ropes and a blackened board. Lyra slowly held it up in her magic, her lip quivering at the sight of one of her favorite childhood memories destroyed. Tootsie walked up and hugged her leg to try to comfort her.

"It's over, everypony," Clover said, his head hanging low. "Let's get back inside." He slowly trudged back into the manor, with Rose Jig at his side. The others followed slowly, Lyra still holding the destroyed swing in her magic. When he entered the main dining room, Clover dropped down onto a stool in front of the kitchen bar and sat there with his head in his hooves.

Rose sat down beside him and began to gently stroke his back. "It was them again, wasn't it?" she asked softly.

"It was who?" Lyra demanded, slapping the swing set down onto the bar. "Who were those ponies?"

Bon Bon paused at the kitchen threshold. She had never seen Lyra this serious before...nor this angry.

"Mom?" Tootsie asked, hovering next to her. "Why is Momma Lyra so upset? Is it because her tree got burned down?"

"Yes, but it'll be all right, dear," Bon Bon replied, gently shooing her daughter away. Her motherly instincts told her that whatever was about to happen, it was not for the ears of fillies.

Clover Step and Rose Jig looked at each other, then back at their daughter, who stared back, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Finally, Clover sighed and sat up straighter.

"They're members of the Mareish Mob," Clover explained. "They've been extorting most of the old families in town for money, threatening to destroy their homes and businesses unless they pay up."

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" Lyra almost shouted, her tail trembling in fury.

"We didn't want you to worry, hon," Rose replied. "We just didn't want to ruin Shamrock Day for you."

"Can't the Guard do anything?" Lyra asked.

"You think we haven't called them?" Clover burst out. "The Guard is doing everything they can, but the Mob is three steps ahead of them, every time!" He lowered his face onto his hooves. "Oh, what are we going to do?"

"We fight back is what we do!" Lyra shouted in reply, banging her hoof against the table. "The Heartstring family founded this city, and we are not going to bend over for some crooks!"

"Lyra—" Rose Jig started to protest, but her speech fell on deaf ears; Lyra was already storming out of the room, moving past Bon Bon, who could only stare in disbelief. If this was enough to make Lyra angry, it could not turn out well for anypony.

"And you're sure this is where you dropped him off?"

"Course I'm sure," the cab driver told his passenger, giving him a queer look. "I've never forgotten a face in seven years of driving."

"Thanks, mate," the pony in the green vest said, tossing the cabbie a small gem for his trouble.

"Say, what do you want with this bloke anyway?" the cabbie asked.

"It's nothing bad," Phillip Finder reassured him with a small smile, stepping out of the taxi carriage and onto the street opposite the Green Bull. "He's just an old friend that I'd like to get reconnected with."

The cabbie shrugged and trotted off in search of a new customer, leaving Phillip alone on the sidewalk outside the tavern. So his quarry had come all the way from Ponyville to here. Why? To find a room to stay? For a meeting with his supplier? Or just to get a drink?

He wasn't going to find out standing outside, that he knew. Confidently, he pushed open the door and entered the bar. The bell above the door announced his entry, causing the patrons to turn their heads toward him, the chatter quickly stopping at the sight of this stranger in the gray hat. With a respectful nod, Phillip headed for the bar and dropped down on an empty seat.

"Welcome! What'll it be, mate?" the blue-bearded bartender asked with a friendly smile.

"What's your best glass?" Phillip asked, pitching his voice low to try to hide his accent. Internally, he smiled; friendly bartenders were among his favorite ponies in the world.

"Let me show you," the bartender replied, ducking beneath the table momentarily and retrieving a glass. He filled this with a foaming, clover green liquid and slid it into Phillip's waiting hooves. "Shamrock cider, just the thing to break the ice."

"Cheers," Phillip said, gladly taking a long sip. The foam made his tongue tingle, then the drink itself followed with a comforting chill that washed down his throat and into his stomach. Licking the froth from his lips, he gave an approving nod. The chatter resumed as the other patrons accepted his presence.

"Ah, that's the stuff," Phillip said, setting the glass down with a clunk. "My friend told me I should drop by this place while I was visiting."

"Your friend's a very wise pony," the bartender agreed, wiping down the bar.

"He and I are in the same business, down in Ponyville," Phillip continued. "Actually, he came to town just yesterday for a business meeting, but he left behind something."

The bartender's hoof slowly stopped its circular motions across the table. "Oh, did he now?"

"Yeah, something important. I came after him to try to return it, but I don't know where he's staying." Phillip reached into his vest and pulling out a photograph. He handed the picture to the bartender. "Have you seen him? His name is Coin Toss."

The bartender examined the photograph closely. Phillip watched his face carefully for any reaction. Could he suspect that the picture in his hoof had been taken two years ago, when the subject had been arrested and charged unsuccessfully with dealing cocaine? And did he know that by "business," Phillip meant dealing drugs to the younglings of Ponyville? His stomach twisted at the thought of that poison seeping through his town.

"Nah, sorry, mate," the bartender replied, handing the picture back. "Haven't seen him recently."

"That's all right," Phillip said, putting the photo back into his vest and finishing his drink. "I'll do some looking around for him."

"I don't think he is here, mate," the bartender replied. "He always comes here whenever he visits; in fact, he's a regular." He pointed at one of the black-and-white photos on the wall, which showed a cluster of ponies hanging around the bar. The blue-bearded bartender was standing next to a young, mustache-less Coin Toss, who was raising a glass to the camera with a grin.

"Trust me, if I haven't seen him, he's not here," the bartender said, cleaning out his glass. "You should head back home and try to contact him."

"You sure?" Phillip asked.

"Sorry, mate," the bartender shrugged. "I'm afraid you've wasted your time coming here."

Phillip shrugged. "Well, I got a good drink out of it. Thanks anyway." And with a final nod, he stood up and left the bar, the bell jingling to announce his exit.

As soon as he had exited, the bartender scurried out from behind the bar and headed up a staircase to the second floor. Pausing at one of the doors, he knocked loudly. The door opened and Coin Toss peered out fearfully.

"What is it, Tankard?" he asked.

"You know a bloke with black hair, gray eyes and a magnifying glass cutie mark?" Tankard asked.

Coin Toss' eyes widened. "Phillip Finder! He found me!"

"No, he hasn't," Tankard quickly answered. "I sent him off on a wild goose chase. He has no idea you're here."

"He wouldn't have come here if he didn't know I was here!" Coin replied, pacing the room in a circle while he frantically thought. "Oh, bugger, if I back out of this deal, I'm bucked..." He continued to pace in a tight circle, muttering indistinctly to himself while he ran a hoof through his mane. Finally, he slowly came to a stop and spoke.

"Contact the mob. Tell them I need that meeting moved up, as soon as possible. I have to get what I need and get out of here."

"Lyra, you don't really think that you can stand up against armed crooks, do you?" Bon Bon asked in concern, watching as her wife rummaged through clutters of junk in the basement of the manor.

"I came here to enjoy Shamrock Day with my family," Lyra replied through her teeth, tossing aside a stack of old books with her magic. "And I am not going to let some thieving gobdaws ruin...ah, found it!"

Slowly, she lifted out a three foot long thick black stick with a knob on the end and a strap around it. "My old shillelagh!"

"Shill-what?" Bon Bon raised an eyebrow.

"Shillelagh," Lyra repeated, turning the stick over in her hooves. "It's a traditional weapon. My uncle taught me how to fight with it." She gripped the stick in her hoof and swung it through the air a few times. Bon Bon noticed that a hole had been drilled into the knobbed end and filled with lead to give it additional weight.

"Lyra, you're not going to try to fight them!" Bon Bon protested.

"No, I'm not going to fight them," Lyra answered, tossing the stick around her shoulder and tightening the strap. "I'm going to chase them off if they come back."

"Are you sure?" Bon Bon asked.

"Don't worry, Bonnie," Lyra answered, stroking Bon Bon's cheek. "If those wankers come back, I'll give them a Shamrock Day they'll never forget!"

Author's Notes:

I actually managed to tap this out within a week of publishing the last chapter. This took a while to plan out, but I'm finally satisfied with this chapter.

So there's one Mareish mare going up against the Mareish mob, and with Phillip tossed into the mix, it can't end well. More soon...

(By the way: "shillelagh" is pronounced "shill-lay-lah")