Their next destination was a town called Cloppenburg, a town about fifty miles inland, located at a fork in a river in the middle of a vast, primeval wood. It was a rough place, an independent city-state that lived by its own rules, laws, customs, and traditions. From what little Blackbird had told him, Dim gleaned that his skills would be needed there, perhaps. It was starting to make sense why she needed a competent, professional killer… a vizard.

While Blackbird flew, Dim was at work making the vardo better. He repaired a few things—a task easy enough for him to do—magicked away the corrosion starting to form on the battery terminals, and he had laid the foundation for the first of many protective spells. Blackbird had a never ending fear of her vardo being stolen, and Dim aimed to fix that. Unwanted, unwelcomed guests would suffer… consequences.

Just like anypony reaching into his saddlebags would find themselves pulling out a fleshless skeletal nub...

Already, Dim didn’t like what he was seeing, and this place had a feeling to it. Dim, of course, didn’t like this feeling, this hunch. Pulling out a clove and cannabis cigarette, he inserted it into the open end of his long, ornamental silver holder, placed that in the corner of his mouth, and then lit his smoke with a careless flick of fire magic.

“I have a good feeling about this,” Blackbird said to her now smoking companion.

“You do?” Dim was incredulous, but willing to hear her out.

“You know, Dim… ponies play this role playing game where they pretend to be adventurers. You know, gunslingers, knights, wizards, rogues and the like. They roll dice and have papers with foundations for mathematical formulae to help them determine if their actions are successful, like hitting something with a sword or casting a spell. In short, they pretend to be like you… and I suppose, in a lesser degree, like me.”

“What?” Dim, confused, puffed away on the nail in his holder. “Why is this being brought up now?”

“Well, my last companion, he knew a lot about the game, and I think it bled over into real life for him. He was always shouting about dice rolls, and saving throws, and he kept demanding that I make saving throws against his charisma checks, and he kept shouting, ‘I put on my robe and wizard hat!’ and he was surprised when fights didn’t quite go as planned, and in the end, when he became unbearable, and would not take the hint that no meant no, I had to drop him out of the wagon and into the sea. I hope he made his saving throw.”

“The fuck is this?” Dim demanded, now irritated beyond reason, and unable to explain why. The cigarette bobbed up and down at the end of its long holder. “I don’t roll dice, I roll heads!”

“I, uh, don’t doubt that.” Blackbird nodded in an amicable manner to pacify her companion. “You have already proven that you are far, far more capable than any of my other companions, so don’t be upset.”

“Also, one quick thing before we go,” Dim began, and he gave Blackbird a stern glare through his goggles. “Don’t hire a killer and complain when he does his job. I’m not like those other nattering, incompetent dice rolling boobs you found. I have worked in a professional capacity for a while now. If you want a nice clean operation, hire a maid, or get yourself a butler. I make messes.”

“You really are a killer, aren’t you?” Blackbird’s voice dropped down low, almost to a whisper, and there was sadness now in her eyes. “Lots of ponies… lots of creatures say it… some of my previous companions have said it, but travel experience proved them liars. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling hopeful. Come on, Dim… let’s go and do our business in this awful place, and then let us be gone from here.”

“Remain very close to me, Blackbird. I cannot do my job if you go wandering off, or if you stray away from me. Whatever it is you want from here, I can help you get it. But only if you let me do what I do best.” Dim puffed a few times, filling his lungs with soothing, calming smoke. Feeling lightheaded, he felt better than he had in a long time, but he knew that this peaceful feeling would end the moment there was any sort of conflict or violence.

Then, the shakes would set in, along with the need for some coca-laced salts. And when the jitters proved to be too much, or the pain became unbearable, the need for the opium-laced salts would no doubt prove to be too much to bear, and his suffering would begin in earnest. The trouble with calm, Dim realised, was that it was far too fragile a thing. He puffed away a bit more and his gums began to grow numb from the cloves. His throat, too, was feeling better, and the dreadful ache in his lungs began to subside.

“Who are we looking for?” Dim asked while he prepared his mind to cast a few protective spells.

“A pony named Grimy.” For a moment, it almost seemed as though Blackbird might laugh, but it passed. “It isn’t much of a lead, but I heard he hired my mother for a job and as payment, he gave her a name and a location. He’s supposed to be here, running some of the lumber camps.”

“We shall have to locate this Grimy, and hope that he is generous with what he knows.” Dim sighed, sucking in and releasing a huff from his clove and cannabis cigarette. “He might try and pressgang us into work. Come, let us begin our task.”

Sawdust, like dirty brown-black snowflakes, covered every available surface. They came down from the sky, drifting, falling in a slow, meandering, unpredictable dance made possible by the wind and rising hot air. Coal powered boilers belched out clouds of acrid, choking black smoke and ash. The streets were packed with sapients of all types.

In Equestria, and to a lesser extent, the Grittish Isles, one ran into equines. Ponies were the dominant species. In other places, such as this one, one encountered sapients. Creatures with self awareness, intelligence, and the means to communicate. In Equestria, and to a lesser extent, the Grittish Isles, one encountered a lot of freedom, and free creatures. Individuality was respected, for the most part, except for when it wasn’t.

This was not the case, here, in this place. Teams of shackled earth ponies pulled logs and wagons while whips cracked. Pimps of all kinds, all species, hawked their male and female flesh to any customer that had both a need and coin. Here, like Tortoise-Tuga, the strong remained free while the weak lived in bondage.

Such was the way of the world, and so it would remain until something was done about it.

Dim was tempted to do something about it, as something about all of this bothered him, just as it did in Tortoise-Tuga. He kept his thoughts and his feelings to himself though, and was mindful of his urges. He was here to do a job—keep his companion safe—and even though he wasn’t being paid, there was his pride to think of. His pride demanded that he do his job to the best of his ability.

He was a vizard for hire, even if he wasn’t Harsh Winter any longer. For a time, he had tried to be Harsh Winter, a persona, somepony new, an attempt at starting over, but that had failed. Now, he didn’t know who or what he was any longer. After hitting rock bottom, trying to maintain Harsh Winter’s existence had lost meaning.

Perhaps Harsh Winter was just one more pony that he had killed.

The disgusting primitives lived with no fear of consequences here, there were no nobles, no rulers, there was no princess to keep them in line. These were peasants, serfs, and the common rabble without proper hierarchy, this was the life commoners created when left to their own devices. It sickened Dim, it turned his stomach, and reminded him of the need for social order. Never was a place more in need of proper, well-meaning nobles and a few knights.

As much as he had been twisted, as much as his mother—his family—had corrupted him, as cynical, bitter, and jaded as the world had left him, Dim was still of a fine, royal bloodline: Princess Luna’s. Messed up though he might be, deep within him—unbeknownst to him—there was still a tiny fragment of his core that remained untouched, unsullied by everything that had happened.

In Tortoise-Tuga, that tiny fragment had opened one eye. Now, in Cloppenburg, it yawned. It yawned, having awoke after a long slumber, and it struggled to regain its senses. Under ideal circumstances, this tiny fragment awoke in perfect vessels, ponies raised from birth to do right, to do good, to serve the realm, to obey the bidding of the alicorn authority, to defend the cause of harmony. This tiny fragment awoke in the noble offspring of the ponies who had the ways and the means, the resources and the drive to do great good in the world. In ideal ponies, under ideal conditions, under ideal circumstances, these tiny fragments, these minute slivers of ancient alicorn souls did magnificent things.

This one found itself in Dim, and it was very, very confused as it awoke.

“Hey, you… how much for the cunt?” A grating voice asked. “She looks exotic. Is she for sale? I’m surprised you don’t have that cunt hobbled. Is her wings clipped?”

Dim paused and felt his spine stiffen as all emotion fled from him. Turning his head, he peered up at a greasy looking diamond dog who was puffing away on a pipe. There was a bandoleer around his girth, one visible pistol, and no visible coin purse. “Well, that would depend,” Dim began, and he hoped that Blackbird trusted him. “How much do you have?”

“On me, not much. But I has access to quite a treasury, so I do.” The diamond dog now had a hopeful expression, and there was keen shrewdness in his eyes. “I went all legitimate and such, and now I has me a corporation backing me for my purchases. Keeps the workers happy. It’s still cheaper than raising their wages, I guess.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Dim smiled, and it was no doubt, a terrible sight. Not only was it cheaper than raising wages, but slaves could be sold later, for other purposes. Dim peered at the diamond dog through his goggles, and decided that he wasn’t looking at a killer, but a merchant. “I am positive that we can negotiate a fair price. Come, let us discuss business.”

“But Massah, I don’t wanna be sold,” Blackbird whined in a shrill voice. “Massah issa good Massah ‘cuz he likes dem little colts and not my tight little twat.”

“Silence… cunt. Know your place.” Dim was relieved, but he did nothing to show it, to betray himself. “One more outburst from you and I will cut your tongue out so I can use it as toilet tissue.”

“She’s a bit mouthy,” the diamond dog said, looking concerned.

“Some will pay more for such amusement.” With all of this absurdity, it was a struggle for Dim not to laugh. He watched as the diamond dog considered his statement, and after a moment, the greasy dog nodded.

“Yeah, some would. More fun to break in.” The diamond dog—puffing away at his pipe—began to rub his jowls, and he looked down at Dim with a thoughtful expression.

“I’ve made her very obedient. As you can see, no need for hobbles or wing clipping. Nothing to sully her fine, perfect flesh.” Dim gestured at his companion, and Blackbird was now doing her best to look as meek as possible.

“Massah, please, I like doin’ your laundry and bein’ your maid. I like sewin’ your clothes!”

“Can she cook?” the diamond dog asked.

“She can cook, clean, sew, and perform all domestic duties.” Dim now had an inkling of just how shrewd Blackbird was, how clever. She was passing herself off as too good of a deal to pass up, even making the subtle implication that she was… intact. Blackbird might have been no killer, and Dim stood by his initial assessment of her when he first laid eyes on her, but she was smart. If he was the vizard, was she the rogue? He began to remember their conversation from earlier, but now was not a time to be distracted.

“I think we can work out a deal,” the diamond dog said, sounding eager. “Follow me.”

Author's Notes:

Next chapter... bad things getting what they deserve.