My footsteps echo through the empty alleys. My legs carry me through passages where nothing moves but stale air. I really don’t feel like causing a scene and having pretentious high class snobs scream like little girls at me probably won’t help me in that. I linger at the edge of alleyways, just enough to eavesdrop on the voices of high society. I’m so glad these high and mighty Canterlot ponies talk so pronounced and articulately, it makes eavesdropping so much easier.

The whispers and hushes of these gossiping ponies tell me that the Grand Galloping Gala is in a week, that there are apparently pirates in Equestria and that a changeling is inside the castle. After a half hour of this, I lose interest in the prattle of ponies more interested in slander than respect. I retreat to the deeper shade of the alleys. I recount the accounts and information of the chattering ponies.

Probably most of what they say is news meant for a cheap fuss and noise. The Grand Galloping Gala however… it’s probably going to be the best time for breaking into the royal library and steal the book. Most of the guards will be busy with keeping some degree of order in the party. They’ll have more urgent matters than a seven foot bugbear slipping in and out.

“Now I just have to find a way into the castle without being detected. The few guards that may notice me should be easy enough to knock out.”

I start to shift through between alleys to get closer to the castle. I wait awhile for the few nobles around the castle to go about their business. After the crowds start to leave, I begin to move, my target being the castle. The walls protecting the castle put a halting stop to that examination.  I use my hands and eyes to examine any noticeable faults or flaws in the construction.

The polished walls are incredibly well maintained, no nooks, cracks or indents that I could use to scale the walls. The walls have an incredible strength in its protection. Without rhythm, without a sign, I smash my metal arm into the wall. The thud of impact resounds through the wall. My arm definitely hit the mark.

Nothing.

No dents, no fissures, no cracks of metal against stone show. The wall truly is impregnable. I give up on the wall and consider alternate routes.

I test the ground around the walls, perhaps there’s a soft spot to dig into. I take a few probing swipes at the earth, digging further to find a way around the wall. After about three meters of digging through dirt, I finally realize that the wall extends below, beyond the surface of the city. It’s probably a good guess to assume the wall is embedded ten meters into the earth.

“Tch.”

A sound of irritation passes through my lips as I continue to walk along the wall for any weaknesses I could exploit for entry.

“If you’re looking for a crack in the wall, you’d have a better chance killing a dragon with a pebble.”

A voice sneering with amusement and a slight boredom takes my attention by force.

I turn around to see a unicorn with a black coat and brown mane, his face the classic look of someone who taunts and teases as a way of living.

“So why are you trying to get into the castle?” he asked with a leering smirk on his face.

“Who said I was looking for a way in? Maybe I just have a love for walls.”

I mentally cringe at myself. Even I know how ridiculous that sounded.

“Hmmm, I suppose that could be true, but if you’re not trying to get it, I guess I’ll give this ticket to some other lucky pony.” A magic glow shines in front of the unicorn. The mystic light holds a ticket of golden sheen. A ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala (which I’ll now refer to as the GGG) appears before me.

My mouth reacts before my brain.

“No, wait!” I yell at him as he tries to trot away. “Please can I have that ticket?”

The same smirk fixed on his face extends further. He walks back to me and extends his hands of magic in the pocket of my trench coat, dropping the ticket into the safety of my possession.

“Think of this as my final gift to you,” he says as he walks towards the alleyways of Canterlot and into the shadows where ponies don’t linger.

Final gift?  It took about a minute for my brain to realize who he was. “HEY, WAIT A MINUTE!”

He disappears into darkness before I could think of grabbing him, the alleyways’ shadows obscuring him now. It’s truly fitting for a bastard like him to hide in the shadows. I reach into the pocket where the ticket had drop from his magic. I examine the ticket, a golden shine with bold silver letters that states, “You are invited to the Grand Galloping Gala.” How did this bastard get a hold of this ticket? Oh god, did he kill someone for this? I wouldn’t put it past him... wait a minute... he’s a god-like entity that can kick you into separate dimensions. It’s not unlikely he simply conjured one from thin air. Wait. a. minute.

"THAT BASTARD COULD HAVE GIVEN ME MY REAL ARM BACK!"

After a minute to let myself calm down and let the desire to smash his head like a grape lessen, I realize that the GGG is in about a week. What should I do while I wait? I could get a bit of work, to get some bits. Yea, that sounds like the best plan so far.

I begin my search for work in the town center. Yea... it went as well as you would expect a seven foot bugbear going into town would go. The murmurs and hushed tones of the town ponies has as much variety as “What is that beast?” and “Someone should tell the zoo one of their animals got out.” has. I spy a small board in the middle of the town square with posters of possible jobs nailed to the rickety board. I walk towards the board. The pages overlap with each other and crowd one another. I sample some of the job listings.

“Let’s see here, dog walker? No, I’m horrible with animals. Hmmm, street vendor? I wasn’t good with people to begin with, imagine me with ponies...”

A slight shudder shakes my shoulders before something catches my eye, a page with a anvil on it captures my attention.

Blacksmith assistant? This seems interesting.

I take hold of the poster, rip it off the board and read it over thoroughly.

“Let’s see, blacksmith assistant wanted, amount given for your bread and butter: 250 bits. Only a week will be needed of your assistance.”

Well this seems perfect. Oh wait, a warning.

“Must not be afraid of extreme heat.”

Oh good, I was expect him to warn me about the dangers of falling anvils.

My legs start to move, walking to the directions given in the poster. They take me to a medium sized building, a large chimney puffs black breath out of its mouth. As I get closer, I can feel the heat growing more and more intense even as I reach the first steps into the workshop. I enter under the small patio of the workshop.

Swords, spears and various deadly weapons decorate and tell of the craftsmanship of the blacksmith more than words need to. I turn my eyes to the centre of the patio, a forge is being put to work, a gray pony with ashen black hair and tail pouring his energies into the craft at hand. His back is in front of me. I take a look at his cutie mark, a shield with a hammer poured on it, the flash of impact separating the two.

I take a closer look at the material he’s working on. It seems like the armor of the Canterlot guards. The difference was the material used, instead of a golden shine radiating, brilliant silver gleams its sheen onto my eyes. It must tell more of the blacksmith’s skills to be able to concentrate such a glimmer despite the need to reinforce the metal with repeated poundings.

“Excuse me but I’m here for the job offer,” I told him firmly, deciding to cut to the chase.

He keeps on pounding away at the armor.

“Oh, are yah now? Well you’re gunna have ta pass a little test o’mi...” He turns around and sees me stand there. “What in Celestia’s beard are yah?”

I offer a smile for the gruff blacksmith.

“I, my little pony, am a bugbear.”

“Alright bugbear you got a name?” he questions, never taking his eyes off me.

“I’m Celt, and who might you be?”

“Iron Mane, nice ta meetcha Celt. It said I got a test before you can work in my smith.”

“Well what is this test of yours?”

“Simple,” he points to the smith with his front hoof, “All yah gotta do is put your arm in the smith here for a minute.”

Seems easy enough, probably not. I’ll use my mechanical arm in case of any funny business.

“Alright.” I walk over and put my mechanical arm inside of the smith. “Like this?”

“Eeyup, yah just keep your arm in there for a minute.” He starts to walk away, “Oh, before I forget.”

He walks back over to the smith and puts some ore on it. Then he directs his magical glow onto it. After a few seconds, my skin starts to prick, a sizzling hiss escapes my body.

The smith starts to melt through my skin without direct contact. The claws of the inferno start to tear at my flesh, not content with simply raising the temperature of the room. After a while, the full force of a furnace blasts me, the smith practically searing my body alive. If the arm I put on here was my normal arm, it would have full past melted, becoming a stump dripping skin on the smith.

The blacksmith remains indifferent to the stroke of heat biting at every pore in my body.

“Alright, jus wait here for a minute, I’ll be back soon,” he said as he made his way out of the workshop.

Wait a minute...

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That bastard...

Ten minutes later, he returns with a small brown sack in his magical possession. He walks over and after a flash of magic, the intense heat lessens its grip on my body. The pain slowly diminishes and finally it disappears as easily as it came.

"Wow, yah kept your arm in there the whole time?"

“You said I’d get the job if I kept it in there,” I said, pulling my mechanical arm out of the smith.

“Uh, lad, your arm’s on fire,” he stares intensely at my arm. “and glowing.”

I turn my head to see what he’s saying. There was indeed fire on my arm. Strange my entire jacket hasn’t gone up in flames. I rush to dunk my arm into a nearby bucket of water. The kinds used to cool metals after they haven’t been shaped. The water releases a hiss as the steam, that water and fire make, rises and pats my body with its warm touch.

Iron Mane let the glow of his magic dissipate and the bag falls onto the table besides me with a thud of wood meeting metal. A jingling ring tells me that the contents of the bag must be of monetary value.

“Here’s your first pay, you get your pay at the end of each day. Give me lip about having it earlier and you’ll get a nice hammer to the head to get some sense pounded into you and a permanent retirement. You start tomorrow.”

I see the blacksmith walk out of the workshop,  lingering at the door. I soon realize that he’s waiting for me to leave with him. As I leave the room, he slams the door behind me. A clicking sound tells me I won’t be able to get back in anytime soon without him. I realize something at that moment.

I have no place to stay until the GGG.

With a sigh, I walk back into the alleys, wandering around for awhile. I find a nice little space between some boxes to sleep in. The rest is history.

The next morning I went straight for the marketplace to spend money I didn’t have earlier. After a few chilled looks, faces that expressed fear and eyes that stayed frozen even as I was talking to them, I manage to get out a happy camper, a smile plastered on my face.

The things I bought were a rabbit for lunch, (what, I’m a carnivore,I have needs.) a satchel and a holster to load my crossbow in.

Thank god I bought this, it was annoying having all these ponies look at me as if I was a madmen with a crossbow and trigger-happy fingers.

After my trip to the market, I went back to the blacksmith’s for my first day of work. As it turns out, my iron arm is an effective hammer to flatten and reinforce blades and armor. As my brows sweat from effort, I think to myself.

Soon it will be the GGG and then I’ll be closer to my goal. Next Chapter: Preparing for the GGG (5) Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 30 Minutes