Freeport Venture: Tears in the Rain

by Ponibius

First published 8th of July, 2019

Puzzle Piece is the premier information broker in Freeport. However, after months of absence from Freeport, he returns to find everything he built in shambles and his lieutenants fighting over the remnants.

Puzzle Piece is the premier information broker in the infamous nation of Freeport, leading one of the most powerful and wealthy organizations in the islands. However, after months of absence from Freeport, he returns to find everything he built in shambles and his lieutenants fighting over the remnants. With chaos reigning in the streets, the Council tells him to get his house in order or see his life’s work swept away. Unfortunately for Puzzle, there are forces in Freeport that don’t want to see him succeed. Nobody can be trusted, nothing is safe—not even his deepest secrets.

A chronological sequel to Northern Venture.

Prologue: The Best Laid Plans

“Permission to board, captain?”

This one turned from the cooler it been filling with ice to see the Alya-mare waiting on the pier to board this one’s pleasure yacht, the Trustworthy. The zebra mare gave this one a cheeky salute as she grinned.

This one smiled at the sight of one of its lieutenants arriving for the little evening barbecue it had arranged for the day before it was set to head to Northmarch. “Permission granted. It's good to see you.”

“You too.” The Alya-mare boarded the Trustworthy and then looked around to see no one else there. “First here?”

“Yep.” This one had arranged a little get-together with the lieutenants in its organization. Considering this one was liable to be gone for many weeks due to the travel times involved, it had struck this one as a good idea to touch base with everyone during a nice relaxing evening enjoying good food and drink. Best to leave the best impression possible upon the people this one was going to leave in charge of its organization while it was away. That, and deal with any lingering issues or problems they wanted to bring up.

The Alya-mare chuckled. “Well, I guess it figures I'd be first here. I was the first to join you, after all.”

“It seems fate is being thematic today.” It felt like forever ago since this one returned from exile with the Alya-mare at its side. Soon after this one started the work necessary to become Freeport’s foremost information broker, this one placed the Alya-mare in charge of the finance and business end of this one’s little underworld empire. She’d been good at it too, always moving around goods, making deals with the seedier elements of Freeport, and passing on profits that this one used to build up its more legitimate businesses. It had been an important part of this one’s long-term plans, and the Alya-mare had played an expert part in it.

The Alya-mare had come a long way from the mousy little mare she'd been when this one had met her on a ship heading to the lands of the Dromaed all those years ago. She still wore her small-rimmed glasses, and her face was no longer youthful but bore the maturity of a zebra confident in her abilities. Instead of looking nervous and worried about how she would survive to pay off her family’s debts, she was modestly wealthy in her own right, and spoke like a zebra of affluence and influence.

This one started loading some wood into the grill it had on the deck. It wouldn't be long before the others showed up, so it was a good time to start getting food ready. “It’s been a profitable venture between us, hasn’t it?”

“I’d certainly hope so, given all the work I’ve put in.” She nudged this one’s side. “Someone has to figure out how all the bills are paid for your little criminal enterprise.”

This one decided to stroke her ego a bit. “It is good to have someone around that can handle the finances. It opens up so much time for this one to deal with other things.” This one gave her a smirk. “It really would have been a shame if all the Ephemera-mare's money had gone to waste, in addition to all the other gains we got while working with the Do-mare.”

The Alya-mare grinned back. “Might as well enjoy it while we have it.” She stepped up to help this one load the grill. “And I'd like to think I've made a pretty good partner for you.”

“This one has few reasons to complain. None of its money has mysteriously disappeared, for one.” This one dusted off its hooves once we were done. “The lack of headaches you cause certainly speaks in your favor. This one hasn't had to consider replacing you once, unlike other postings within its organization over the years.”

“I'd hope not,” the Alya-mare said. “I’d hate to be disappeared.”

This one started firing up the grill. “The Alya-mare hardly needs to worry about anything like that.”

“I didn’t think I did.” Instead of being comforted by this one’s word, the Alya-mare pressed her lips together. “Though I’m still kinda worried about you being gone for so long. Is going all the way to Northmarch again really worth it?”

Knowing that this type of question was inevitably going to come up, this one had ready answers. “This one can hardly turn down a request of someone as prestigious as Argentium the Runescaled. In case you forgot, she is a very, very big dragon who doesn’t take insults to her pride well. When she asks you to attend her, you show up.”

“I know, I know.” She let out a long sigh. “It’s just, you’ve never been gone this long before. It was different back when we were still a couple small-timers getting started. We’re used to you doing most of the management and making the big decisions, not to mention deciding what we do if a problem comes up. You’ve only ever been gone for maybe a couple of weeks at a time, save for that time you disappeared for a month and gave us all a scare. But we’re talking months here. That’s a long time to be away from the shop.”

“As this one is more than aware.” This one placed a hoof on her shoulder. “This one is sure you and the others will be fine. You all know how to do your jobs and have dealt with a variety of crises during the time you’ve worked for this one. Besides, if anything happens you’ll be able to contact this one and it can hurry home.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the Alya-mare said. “Still, that is a long time away just to do introductions. It’s not like Sunset needs to have her hoof held. She might not be very diplomatic, but you could just impress upon her the need to not tick off the dragon with teeth larger than her whole body.”

That was all true to a point, though in truth this one had more than one reason for escorting the Shimmer-mare to see one of the most powerful and influential dragons in the world: it had done several jobs for Argentium to build up its reputation with the ancient wyrm, and this one had been waiting for the opportunity to collect on its payments—special payments that only Argentium was capable of making. Better yet, this one could hide its full intentions under the guise of aiding with introductions.

Another reason this one felt compelled to go was because of what might happen between Argentium and the Shimmer-mare: Argentium wouldn’t have asked the Shimmer-mare to come visit her unless it was for very good reasons. While this one only had a cursory understanding of destiny and other more esoteric powers in the universe, this one knew that the Shimmer-mare was special. The White Pony had made the Shimmer-mare her student as part of her greater plans, and if the Shimmer-mare’s visit to Argentium was some critical step to ascension then it wanted to be sure it was there to help it along. If the Shimmer-mare did ascend, so many doors would open up for its plans. This one had invested no small amount of time, money, and energy into her, and that might just be about to pay off in a huge way.

But right now, this one had to consider how best to respond to the Alya-mare. She had worries about this one leaving for so long, and she had been by its side for a long time. Perhaps it was time to bring her into another layer of this one’s greater plans. She knew something of what this one was aiming for, but there were still a great many things this one kept very close to its chest. But if everything went well in Northmarch then the time would be approaching where it would need more people it could depend on to serve important parts in its plans.

This one started placing some shish kebab on the grill, keeping its voice quiet as it spoke. This one had paid for powerful magics to be imprinted into the Trustworthy to thwart any potential eavesdroppers, so it was just about as safe as it could be to speak here. “Depending on how the meeting goes with Argentium, it might be time to make some changes in the organization and switch focus. This one’s last meeting with her proved to be very interesting, and this one has a feeling that this time will be even more so.”

The Alya-mare’s ears perked a bit. “Oh really? So ... what kind of restructuring did you have in mind?”

“There are some details to finish working out,” this one explained as it put some hayburgers on the grill. “Though this one is aiming to change what we’re focusing on. We’re going to need to expand in several areas, create several new functions, and increase expertise overall to match. Really, this is going to be a full top-down reform that we’re going to need to sit down and hammer out. This one thinks we're getting close to the part where we switch to actually trying to make Freeport a better place in an active way instead of acting with extreme subtlety.”

The Alya-mare blinked and took a step back as she absorbed that. “That's ... a very big shift.”

She wasn’t wrong. Near as anyone saw, this one was little more than an information broker and minor crime boss. Nothing to be overly worried about by the standards of Freeport. But this one hadn’t come back to Freeport to be a somewhat big fish in a big pond.

“That’s why it has to be done carefully, and not all at once,” this one said. “A sudden and dramatic change could unravel everything we've been working towards. Things have to be done over time and specifically so that no one is the wiser until it’s too late to do anything to stop us.”

The Alya-mare swallowed. “Right, I’d hate for everything to get burned down due to a misstep.”

“Agreed.” This one stopped preparing the meal to face the Alya-mare and place a hoof on her shoulder. “And this one is going to need dependable and loyal people like you to play their part. Up to the task?”

The Alya-mare smiled. “You know I've been your longest-serving, most loyal, and most capable partner. I'd never let you down.”

This one patted her shoulder. “That's not something this one will forget.” This one heard movement from the dock, and spoke more loudly so everyone could hear. “Of course, this one wouldn’t mind if it had more than one stalwart and loyal lieutenant it could depend on in the coming months.”

“Good thing you have us then!” the Gustav-gryph called out from the pier. The hippogryph in charge of the muscle for this one’s organization, the Gustav-gryph was a powerfully built, barrel-chested mix of gryphon and pony who always seemed to have a wide grin on his face. Officially he led his own small mercenary company, but in reality he worked to make sure this one’s assets were protected and provide some muscle when needed for some task. He was a competent and oftentimes clever lieutenant, and had proven to be a good investment on this one’s part when it had originally hired him.

“Permission for myself and Merry to board?” he asked.

This one waved for them to come. “Permission granted.”

“Great, I've been waiting for this all day.” Merry Penny stepped onto the deck alongside the Gustav-gryph, both of them having arrived at the same time it seemed. The Penny-mare was this one’s long-time secretary and confidant. Her coat was a light pink, and her curled mane of violet locks lined her warm face nicely. She had served this one well with a calm confidence and ability to deal with any problem big or small that came up—including dealing with those who insisted they must see this one immediately instead of waiting their turn. Not an easy job, but one she did well. It seemed only right to invite her to this occasion alongside this one’s lieutenants.

“I’m going to miss you so while you’re away.” The Gustav-gryph took this one’s hoof in a firm shake before pulling it into a brotherly hug. “Try and not to freeze while you’re in Northmarch, okay?”

“This one plans on bringing plenty of coats to keep itself warm,” this one assured him. “And this one will miss all of you too. That’s why this one wanted to see all of you and enjoy each other’s company before it left. Speaking of, this one has some food on the grill that should be ready soon.”

The Penny-mare sniffed. “Oooh, that smells good.”

The Gustav-gryph patted this one’s back. “In addition to being a wonderful boss, he's a skilled chef.”

“This one's learned a thing or two over the years. And like most skills, you have to practice to keep them up.” Cooking and alchemy had a lot of the same principles, and while this one didn’t get to practice its skills in alchemy as much as it would have liked to, there was still the odd opportunity to cook. There were also perfectly practical reasons for this one to provide the food here. An unspoken rule in society was that the one who provided the free food established himself as the one in charge.

“Well, I for one appreciate your studiousness,” the Penny-mare said. “I always enjoy your barbeques. Even if I’m going to be sad that you’re gonna be gone.” She fixed this one with a wry grin. “Especially considering whenever you’re gone I either end up bored with almost nothing to do, or I end up with more than I can deal with and a ton of stuff that requires your signature or sompony to unload it on. All that while petitioners pile up at the door.”

“You’ve always managed in the past,” this one assured her. “And you can always ask this one’s lieutenants for help if need be. This one trusts your judgement to deal with things while it’s away.”

“Don't worry.” The Gustav-gryph wrapped a wing around the Penny-mare’s back and gave her a friendly shake. “We'll hold down the fort.”

This one picked up a pair of tongs to start turning everything over on the grill. “This one has every confidence you will. This one wouldn’t be leaving if it didn’t think you could handle everything.”

And perhaps if this one said that enough times it would completely believe it itself. In truth, this one was worried about leaving for so long, even if it was hiding its concerns behind a confident mask. A great many things could go wrong while this one wasn’t around: rivals might take the opportunity to attack, this one’s lieutenants might fall into some degree of infighting, or some great crisis might rear its head. This one had set up as many contingencies as it could to deal with all of those issues, but there was only so many preparations one could practically make without going overboard. Sooner or later, this one needed to trust its lieutenants to do their jobs.

“And what about this one?” a familiar voice said from behind this one. “Are you confident it can keep everything from falling apart without you foalsitting us?”

This one knew who exactly was behind it. This particular Free Mind always felt the need to one-up everyone around it, and included a habit of trying to sneak up on everyone to surprise them. This one turned around and shot Blackwing a grin. He was currently in his grey-coated pegasus disguise, a body that was all trim-muscle ready to snap into action and as always carried himself with a degree of confidence that bordered on arrogance. “How can this one not be confident in such a capable agent?”

And capable he was. Blackwing was this one’s most naturally gifted lieutenant, probably the most gifted in its entire organization. After all, this one wouldn’t have put just anyone in charge of the intelligence arm of the organization. This one had taught him just about everything it could about spycraft to the young changeling, and he had absorbed it like a sponge. Intelligent, fast on his hooves and a devil in a fight, he was the one this one was the most proud of, even if there were still a few rough edges to smooth over for him to become as great as this one hoped he would become someday.

“Also, it's traditional to ask for permission to board before doing so,” this one teased.

“Oh.” Blackwing’s eyes flicked to the deck he was standing on. “Permission to board?”

“Belated permission granted, Blackwing.” This one decided to let the faux pas slide this time, considering the occasion. This one really did need to sit down with him to explain the necessity of adhering to social decorum, however silly they might seem some days. “Good news is that the food is almost ready. You still like shish kebab?”

He nodded. “Always.”

This one picked up some wood to put into the grill to keep it at the temperature it liked. “Looking forward to getting some time to run things without your boss looking over your shoulder?”

A confident smirk crossed his face. “You know this one, it likes to operate independently.”

“Sometimes to this one's exasperation.” While Blackwing was immensely talented, he had a tendency of thinking he could only depend upon himself to get anything done. That was a problem when this one was trying to turn him into a leader, not a lone agent always running off to do everything himself.

“But you like the results once it's all done,” Blackwing countered.

“It is one of the things this one likes about you,” this one admitted. “Now if you could just—”

This one’s lesson was interrupted as it turned towards the grill and bumped into the Penny-mare. She quickly said an apology as this one fumbled with its tongs before dropping them. This one’s hoof reached out to grab the tongs before they hit the ground, but Blackwing’s hoof shot out like lightning and snatched the tongs first. His lips spread in a teasing grin as he poked this one in the barrel with the tongs. “Getting a bit slow, aren't you?”

This one tried not to sound defensive. “This one has hardly slowed down that much.” Thanks to exercise, a good diet, and the odd potion, this one was is very good shape all around.

The Penny-mare chuckled and nudged my ribs with an elbow. “Old age catches up with all of us, Puzzle.”

The Alya-mare snorted. “He's got a ways to go yet before he gets old.” Considering she was about as old as this one, it wasn’t a surprise she wanted to defend this one’s age. Besides, she was right.

“Remember, you’re going to be this one’s age someday,” this one said, “so be careful who you call old.”

“This one is a long way from needing to worry about slowing down.” Blackwing flipped the tongs in his hoof so as to offer the handle to this one and then grinned. “And really, you could do worse than to leave this one in charge of everything.”

This one rolled its eyes and took the tongs. “You’re all to play nice and work together while this one is gone.”

This one had split up its organization the way it had for very good reasons; considering each lieutenant was in charge of a different aspect of the organization, finances, muscle, and intelligence, no one of them had enough power by themselves to cause too much trouble. At the very least each of them wouldn’t hold all the cards by themselves to act with excessive independence and thus helped keep this one in control. That was the theory, anyway, and thus far it had worked to keep things manageable.

The Gustav-gryph scoffed and wrapped an arm around Blackwing’s neck to give him a noogie. “What is this? Trying to angle yourself to take over when the boss retires? That’s presumptuous of you.”

The Alya-mare frowned. “Besides, I believe I’ve been here the longest. If anyone were to be put in charge while Puzzle’s gone...”

Blackwing grumbled as he struggled to get out of the Gustav-gryph’s hold. “And if this one were put in charge you’d see profits double, easily.”

The Penny-mare let out a long suffering sigh as she rubbed her temple. “Not this again...”

This one cleared its throat before the rivalry between this one’s subordinates got out of control. “Play nice, all of you. This one’s made its opinion on this matter quite clear already. Work together while this one is away.” This one tapped the tongs on the grill. “Besides, you don’t want to ruin a perfectly good meal by talking about work, do you?”

“A free meal is why we’re here,” Blackwing agreed, finally pulling himself from his fellow lieutenant’s grasp. “And while you might be slowing down, you're still a master chef.”

“Oh yes!” the Gustav-gryph exclaimed.

The Penny-mare smiled. “You won’t hear me argue with that.”

“Hear hear!” the Alya-mare said. “Compliments to the chef!”

This one smiled as it looked at the people gathered about it on the deck of the Trustworthy. We had good food, the weather was nice and sunny with a pleasant wind blowing, and everyone was getting along. While this one had its apprehensions, it looked like this one’s plans were coming together.

Unwelcome Homecoming

The rain poured when this one returned to Freeport, pounding the Golden Opportunity as the merchant ship fought through the waves to get into port. The storm created a gloom that obscured the city even as we approached, making the buildings along the dockside seem like teeth belonging to the lower jaw of some great leviathan.

The gloomy downpour reflected this one’s own dour mood as it waited on the ship’s deck, its raincoat doing little to protect it from the all-consuming dampness. The trip to Northmarch had not been what this one had hoped for. As it had many times on the difficult voyage back home, it cursed whatever forces were out there that made such a mockery of what had been such a promising trip. Bad enough the trip itself, instead of being some great opportunity, had merely been the machinations of the Shimmer-mare’s mother in an attempt to force her daughter to come back to Equestria, nearly dooming the whole trip to be a colossal waste of time. The fact this one hadn’t known the Archmagus was up to something only further grated on this one. But then there had been several critical things happening in Northmarch at the time that this one hadn’t been aware of, the greatest being the ancient dragon Blackfyre’s return to the stage.

The fact that the Glimmer-mare had been the one who awakened him and then been forced into becoming his servant only served to further darken this one’s mood. No small part of this one wished it had removed the Glimmer-mare as a threat after the battle in her father’s manor. She was trouble; this one had known that even then. Pity then that the Shimmer-mare wouldn’t have appreciated this one’s diligence, and it would have strained our relationship too much to risk. So instead this one foolishly held its hoof, and as thanks the Glimmer-mare set into motion a series of events that ultimately resulted in the Shimmer-mare losing a leg. Worse, this one knew the damage ran far deeper than that critical wound. With all of the collateral damage done to Northmarch during Blackfyre’s rampage, it would be a long time before Coldharbor recovered from burning down.

This one’s hoof went to its sealed saddlebags where its rewards for aiding Argentium rested. In a different time this one would have been ecstatic about coming home with such treasures, but now it felt mostly hollow. Both the Shimmer-mare and the Heartstrings-mare had been hurt, and Kukri had been traumatized by the experience to boot.

Kukri had returned to Freeport on the same ship as this one. The Shimmer-mare and this one had agreed that it’d be best for her to return home as soon as possible, considering everything that had happened, though over the course of the trip this one was unsure if that had been the best option for the grub’s mental state. Kukri had been quiet and withdrawn throughout the trip, mainly keeping to our cabin, and it wasn’t hard to figure out she was concerned for the Shimmer-mare. This one had tried to take her mind off of everything with her regular lessons and trying to teach her a few tricks of this one’s own trade, but it was clear that Kukri’s heart wasn’t in it.

Adding to the list of troubles was the fact that this one hadn’t heard back from its lieutenants once during the entire trip to Northmarch and back. That was troubling. It was possible just some mere coincidence had resulted in this one’s mail being delayed. Any number of things could have happened to a ship carrying mail, not to mention the dozens of ways mail carriers often lose their packages, especially going international distances, and that wasn't even taking into account how the local postal service had broken down when Northmarch declared a state of emergency. But all of that knowledge still couldn't keep this one from worrying.

That was why this one was rushing back to Freeport ahead of the others. Ideally this one would have preferred to have stayed with them; to make sure the Shimmer-mare was going to be okay, handle the fallout of the Heartstrings-mare leaving the EIS, and take advantage of the rare opportunity to gain valuable contacts within Canterlot itself, but instead it had to throw those opportunities away to make sure nothing was going wrong back home. More wasted opportunities, more troubles, and worst, more to worry about while this one also wasted time in transit. At this point it would just have to hope the others would be able to sort out their own troubles, and that this one was merely being paranoid where its organization and Freeport were concerned.

It was a sore temptation to just fly into the city once we were in a close enough range for this one to do so, but the dock authorities, always wanting to document everyone that came through Freeport, would have hated that. So this one waited until we were firmly docked before finally getting the opportunity to disembark. The rain hadn’t let up in the least, beating this one down as it stepped onto the pier.

Still, while this one was in a hurry to get back to business in Freeport, it didn’t let impatience make its caution slip. There were several individuals waiting on the docking pier, mainly dock workers and what this one suspected were family members braving the weather. To this one’s relief, Kukri’s parents were among those gathered. This one had planned on taking her directly home upon landing if no one had been here to take over, so it would hardly object to them being here. In all honesty, this one really didn’t know how to handle a traumatized kid who’d just seen her teacher and hero physically and mentally thrashed; who’d had her very life threatened by nothing less than an ancient dragon. That was probably a sign it was for the best that this one wasn’t a parent.

After some brief greetings and half-hearted hugs, Kukri’s parents excused themselves, not wanting to stand in the downpour for longer than they had to. That, and this one suspected that they thought—no, knew something wasn’t right with their daughter. Normal parental worries couldn’t have helped. What was supposed to have been a simple trip had become quite more dangerous than any of us could have expected. The battle with Blackfyre and the fact Kukri’s life had been put in danger directly was probably going to strain the Shimmer-mare’s relationship with Kukri’s parents once she returned to Freeport.

But those concerns were simply going to have to be put on its ever-growing list of problems to address later. Someone down near the base of the pier had caught this one’s attention. He was a particularly bland-looking, grey earth pony of exactly average height and build, unremarkable features, and just fell into the background. He possessed a degree of blandness that this one knew from experience took hard work to achieve and maintain. Most likely he was a changeling, and this one had a very good idea of just who he was and who he represented.

This one moved past the blandest individual in the area in its own zony disguise, hoping that he wasn’t here for this one. That was a forlorn hope; there was no one else on the ship except for maybe the captain who could possibly have attracted the interest of this individual. He spoke as this one tried to pass. “Puzzle,” he said, speaking up to be heard over the downpour, “The Council wants to speak to you.”

This one stopped and turned its head to look at Blandy, suppressing a groan. “Can't this wait until tomorrow? This one just got back to Freeport, and it's been a very long voyage.”

“The Council has been waiting on answers for a lot longer than that,” he answered. “They wish to speak with you immediately.”

This one would have vastly preferred to take care of other more pressing business, primarily dropping off its rewards from Argentium especially, before having to deal with the Council, but they would have taken grave offense if it tried to blow them off. Given this one didn’t know the current situation in Freeport at the moment, alienating them now might prove to be a critical mistake. “Alright, lead the way then if the Council is in such dire need of this one's services.”

Wordlessly, the Council agent turned and led the way. This one knew the way to the Council’s palace, of course, but it seemed Blandy had been given specific orders to make sure this one got to them in a timely fashion. That made this one wonder why the Council wanted to see this one so badly that it couldn’t even wait a day or two for it to reestablish itself. The most likely answer was that they wanted a first hoof account of what had happened in Northmarch, even if that seemed superfluous, considering this one had already sent a detailed written report to the Council during its brief stay in Canterlot. While irritating, a pointless hearing where this one had to answer pointless questions wasn’t the worst thing this one could be put through. Though if there were other issues the Council wanted to bring up...

This one considered the possibilities and thought through how best to react to each potential contingency, while still keeping track of where it was going on the rain-soaked streets. We were in the middle of working through the dockside market when this one noted something curious—and worrying. Most of the stalls were closed, many of the merchants not seeing the point in trying to ply their wares when the storm was driving away most of their customers. Everyone who was out was keeping their heads down against the rain and wind, vainly depending on whatever protections their cloaks afforded them.

Everyone except the one unicorn whose path we were about to cross as we moved along the main artery leading through the market.

His dark grey coat faded into the shadows of his even darker cloak, and his dual-orange mane was partially obscured by his hood. But he kept his head up despite the unpleasant weather, and where the eyes of most were drawn in on themselves as they rushed to get wherever they were going, this pony’s eyes were focused, staring ahead with a singular purpose. This one had seen that look more than enough times to recognize it: the eyes of an individual looking to kill.

This one snatched up a porcelain cat trinket from a nearby stall and chucked it right at the unicorn’s head. He blinked and dodged to the side with a bit too much speed and skill for someone who should have been entirely surprised by such a random act. Instead of crying out and demanding what in Tartarus was wrong with this one, his hooves shot to his sides and pulled out a pair of whips.

Now knowing for certain that he was indeed trouble, this one charged, rushing past the Council Agent as it pulled out a dagger. But before this one could close the distance, the unicorn cast a spell that then set his whips on fire. He set his weapons into motion, whirling and spinning them as droplets of water made contact with the flames, causing hissing and crackling as steam formed in the air.

A whip snapped out at this one's face and it quickly stepped to the side, but came to a jerking halt as the other whip struck out in a long arc intended to block the way to the stallion. This one was now convinced this was an assassin as it watched the whips in continual motion. Like an elaborate dance, the whips snapped out, whirled, and tried to hit this one again and again. This one was forced back, unable to find any kind of opening through which it could close the distance and be able to use its dagger. So this one dodged, ducked, and fell back as the assault continued, and the assassin slowly advanced.

“You are good!” The assassin grinned as he twirled his whips in another attack pattern, leaving no opening this one could exploit. “But you can’t dodge forever!”

That much he was right about. Sooner or later he’d catch up, and this one wasn't the sort into the idea of being on the receiving end of those flaming whips. So this one changed tactics, jumping and rolling over a stall tabletop belonging to a fisher. The assassin wasn’t quick to give up as this one tried to break line-of-sight between us, casting a spell that momentarily hardened his whips, letting him smash through the stall poles and table, swiftly destroying the obstruction between this one and him.

He followed this one as it ran, but this one noted that he favored his right rear leg as he walked. This one transformed into its natural form and snatched up a crate of fish. This one tossed fish at its assailant, both to slow him down and gauge his reflexes, dodging between stalls as it did so. The assassin instinctively snapped his whips to knock aside the fish, blackening them with a single blow as he smashed aside the stalls with his whips and pyrokinetic magic.

“You can't hide forever, either!” he cried as he stomped towards this one, his steps measured as he continued to favor his knee slightly.

“Then you don't know your target!” This one ducked, and a whip cracked down where its head had just been. The assassin was determined, but the rain and the stalls were slowing him.

As this one sought more cover, it considered its options: it could indeed run and hide. Once it was in the air and got enough height, he wouldn’t be able to keep up the fight. The problem with running is that it ultimately only served only to delay the inevitable. Likely he would continue to chase this one and would no doubt attack whenever it was advantageous to do so. This one might be able to turn the tables on him, but it would take time and resources to be able to pull off. Not to mention the assassin was at a severe disadvantage with the downpour. Found on a sunny day, his pyromancy would have been much more dangerous. There was also the fact that this one wanted to know why he was attacking it. If he was but one of a number of assassins or bounty hunters after this one following its long absence, it wanted to know.

This one deeply wished the Shimmer-mare was here. She could have overwhelmed and captured this unicorn in a minute. Even the Heartstrings-mare would have been invaluable since we could have pincered and ambushed him by working together. Instead, it was down to this one and what it could pull off against a highly dangerous opponent.

Given this one’s options, it went for one of its standard tricks. This one activated its old invisibility bracelet and started stalking towards the assassin’s flank.

The assassin snarled as he lost sight of this one. “Still hiding?” He snapped his whips and proceeded to violently dismantle the nearest stalls to him. “Or did you just run away like a coward!?”

This one didn’t take his bait, instead slowly moving closer to him, but then a problem presented itself. This one splashed in one of the deeper puddles, and its image flickered as the invisibility magic over it tried to compensate.

The assassin’s ear twitched and he snapped his snarling visage in this one’s direction. “Heard you!” He cracked a whip out, and this time this one was too slow to dodge the attack entirely.

This one felt a white hot flash as the whip brushed this one’s shoulder, both setting this one’s cloak on fire and sending it staggering as its invisibility failed. The momentum of the whips restarted and this one was forced to jump into a dodge, rolling along the wet ground to put its cloak out and got back to its hooves using the momentum of the roll.

“You think the water’s going to save you?” the assassin taunted. “Let me show you how wrong you are!” He slapped his whips onto the puddles of water and sent up great bursts of steam before sending the resulting cloud right at this one with a spell. This one couldn’t get out of the way before the steam consumed it; the talismans around this one’s neck gave it a degree of protection, but the steam still burned as it threatened to boil this one alive. This one quickly tumbled out of the steam and narrowly avoided getting set alight by a cracking whip. The assassin kept after this one, relentless now that he had this one on the retreat.

This one ignored the pain in its shoulder and from the steam as it ran into cover. Unless this one changed the momentum of this fight, it was going to be in a lot of trouble. This one had already played one of its trump cards, and given all the rain it couldn’t use its shock gauntlet safely. A potential solution provided itself when this one arrived at a stall possessing three jugs of oil. Normally used to refill lamps, they would serve this one’s purposes.

This one grabbed them and stood up so the assassin could see this one. “Catch these!”

This one sent the jugs flying. As he had with the fish this one had thrown at him earlier, the assassin’s whips snapped out to intercept the jugs. The jugs broke and the whips’ flames set the oil ablaze in a great explosion. This one didn’t honestly think the flames would harm the assassin. No doubt he had protected himself against the heat and flames he created, but the sudden explosion had its advantages. The sudden burst of light temporarily blinded him, the sound disoriented him, and the smoke served to further conceal this one. It was the opening this one needed to get inside the range of his whips.

This one ran as fast as it could. The assassin was still blinking as he tried to recover from the assault on his senses, and his eyes widened as he realized that this one was on him. This one tossed a dagger off at his horn, but he ducked to the side to avoid it, grunting as he put pressure on his knee. Seeing that his whips weren’t going to be of much use at such close range, he dropped them and drew a dagger that he immediately set alight.

He jabbed with the dagger, but this one stepped inside the attack and grabbed him by the pastern. With a pull and a twist this one unbalanced the assassin and then drove its hoof into his knee. The assassin screamed and immediately crumpled to the ground, almost surprisingly easily to this one. His knee must have been in even worse shape than this one had thought. But this one wasn’t about to let the moment of good fortune go to waste. Continuing to hold the assassin’s arm, this one twisted to force him to drop his dagger, and then pulled out its own to press against the assassin’s throat. “You done now?”

The assassin’s eyes looked over the dagger and his body went slack. “I yield.”

“Good, because this one has some questions. Namely, who hired you and why? This one’s rather invested in knowing why people are trying to kill it, you see.”

The assassin snorted. “As if I’d talk. You know how the game is played.”

So this one did, but there were yet ways to get people to talk if you knew the right tricks. But before this one could start figuring out what would make this unicorn talk, a familiar whistle sounded in the air, and the heavy hoofsteps of armored individuals approached.

“Stop right there!” a member of the condottieri called out. A squad of the condottieri practiced their time-honed skills of arriving just in time to be late for all of the action, and they moved to surround us, weapons at the ready.

“This pony was trying to kill me,” this one explained, not yet removing its dagger from the assassin’s throat.

“He attacked me first! I was just defending myself!” the assassin cried out, trying to play the part of the victim. It seemed he knew enough about the game to know the value of a good lie at the right time.

The sergeant of the squad stepped forward, a big fellow with a hard-bitten face and a couple of notable scars, he glared down at us. “And I'm inclined to arrest you both and sort you out at the barracks.” He looked back at the many destroyed merchant stalls. Several of them were on fire, but thankfully the rain was at least putting them out. At least the fire wouldn’t spread and set the entire area on fire. “You two have certainly caused enough damage to justify throwing you both in a cell.”

Before this one could protest its innocence, Blandy stepped forward and flashed his badge of office as an agent of the Council. “Enough. The Council wants to see him. You can take the other one.”

The sergeant glowered, not quite willing to give this one up yet. “Then maybe he should be taken to the Council in chains.”

This one didn’t particularly relish the idea of being put in chains. “This one doubts the Council will appreciate the Condottieri interfering in their timely business.”

“The Council will hear of this and decide how he will be handled,” Blandy said, blandly.

The sergeant glowered at Blandy but even he knew he was in over his head on this one. The Council didn’t appreciate anyone interfering in their affairs and that very much included the condottieri, and they could make their displeasures very much known to someone like him. “Alright, go then.” He motioned to the assassin. “Arrest that one. We’ll figure out what’s going on by interrogating him.”

This one let the assassin go, and the condottieri proceeded to put chains and a horn ring on him. “This one wants to question him later. You’re taking him to the condottieri barracks, right?”

The sergeant spat. “Yeah, and I’m liable to arrest you if you show up there later. So you’re free to come by once the Council’s all done with you.” He shot Blandy another nasty glower before departing with his prisoner.

This one wanted to argue the point of its innocence, and even more badly wanted to question the assassin, but it was stuck. Unless this one wanted to offend the Council, who for whatever reason really wanted to see this one right away, it had no choice but to go with their agent to see them, immediately. All this one could do was hope that the condottieri would hold onto the assassin long enough and allow this one to ask him some questions. There were a lot of maybes in the air and this one didn’t like it. Something was wrong in Freeport, even if this one didn’t know exactly what just yet.

This one rolled its wounded shoulder and determined it was fine for walking. The sooner this one took care of its business with the Council the sooner this one could get to work finding out what was going on in this city. “Lead the way.”

Blandy nodded. “Follow.”

This one barely had time to dry itself off from the rain and get its wound treated before it was called in to see the Council. Thankfully, the burn from where this one had been hit on the shoulder wasn’t anything to particularly worry about. This one’s rain-soaked cloak had protected it from the worst of it, even if the whip had slashed a big hole, but the wound only stung more than anything. The nurse on the Council staff put some lotion on it to help it heal and manage the pain, and put a bandage on it as much out of professional habit as anything else.

Still, even with the time that took, this one expected to be made to wait. The Council always made this one wait. It was a method they used to show their power, make anyone about to meet them worry, and to control the pace of the upcoming meeting. You waited on the Council to see you, not the other way around. Admittedly, this one had to wonder how much time was wasted on maintaining that protocol and the image of the Council. So it felt almost like indecent haste as this one was hustled into the Council Chamber.

As always, the Council was sitting behind their semi-circular desk on a raised platform, allowing them to look down on anyone below them and even further project their power into the minds of anyone there to see them. As was the Council’s way, they wore their usual black cloaks and eerie, inscrutable silver masks. A great deal of the theatrics of the Council were just that: theatrics. They were done for very good reasons, but this one had long ago learned their tricks. Even so, this one still had to be somewhat cautious when meeting the thirteen most powerful individuals in Freeport.

Keeping with the night's theme, the Council didn’t waste any time getting to business as the central figure at the table addressed this one. “We were expecting you earlier, Puzzle.”

This one inclined its head slightly. “This one apologizes but it was attacked on the way here, as your agent should have told you. Nearly being murdered in the middle of the street has a way of creating delays.”

One of the Councilors scoffed, his voice obscured by his mask’s magic. “We didn't ask you for excuses.” That was probably the Skeptic right there, always needling, always casting everything in doubt. But then, his role was to get under the skin of whoever was in front of the Council and throw them off balance by making them angry.

Knowing to not let itself be easily riled by the Skeptic, this one aimed to direct the conversation to whatever it was they wanted it here for. “Then if this one may ask, why did you ask for it to come?”

The Skeptic ended up being the one leading the hearing. “Your report was lacking in many aspects, Puzzle. We want you to fill in the gaps.” Despite the mask distorting his voice, there was something about the way he said that that made it sound a touch familiar. If he was who this one thought he was...

This one frowned. “This one had thought the written report it sent to the Council to be quite thorough. In what areas did you find it lacking?”

“Where is Chainbreaker?” asked another member.

Chainbreaker? Was Torch Charger’s sword really what the Council had brought this one here to talk about, or was it merely leading into something else? “The Shimmer-mare is keeping it safe until her return. She should be back in Freeport along with the sword within a month or two.”

Yet another member of the Council spoke, this one with a hint of irritation to her tone. “It's going to be months before Chainbreaker is returned to us?”

They were probably concerned about it getting returned to its place in the Freeport Museum. The Council’s connection to Torch during his rebellion against the Necrocrats was one of their explanations for why they came to power back then, and Chainbreaker was a direct connection to Torch. Given the sword’s symbolism, it wasn’t hard to explain why the Council might be a bit fidgety about its return. They might even be worried about what the Shimmer-mare might do with Chainbreaker.

Okay then, it should be simple enough to allay any of their fears. “That is correct, but this one assures you it will be returned. It's just that the Shimmer-mare wished to spend some time back in Canterlot after her battle with Blackfyre and his minions. And in the meantime, you have a replica of the blade in the museum.” This one shrugged. “And even if someone were to discover the replica you have in the museum is a fake, you could just say that the real Chainbreaker is being cleaned or something like that. Another month or two will hardly make a difference in the grand scheme of things.”

Once again it was the Skeptic who led the charge. “And what, exactly, is she going to be doing with our most priceless historical artifact over the next couple of months?”

This one frowned, not liking the disapproving tone or the speaker using it. “Probably keep it shined and under lock and key. She knows its historical worth and that it belongs back in the museum.”

“If it's just being kept under lock and key, then why is she holding onto it instead of having it returned?” asked the Councilor who’d initially brought up Chainbreaker. “Why couldn't you bring it back? Surely that must have been discussed between you two.”

Now this was a delicate topic, and one this one hadn’t gone into any kind of specifics about. The Shimmer-mare’s special relationship with Chainbreaker could be a sensitive topic, and this one didn’t want to bring it up except in person. Preferably with the Shimmer-mare in attendance so as to best reassure the Council that there was nothing to worry about. But this one couldn’t deflect the issue when directly asked a point-blank question about it, and lying now would only cause more trouble and distrust down the line.

“The reason this one didn’t bring Chainbreaker home with it is because it has bonded with the Shimmer-mare,” this one explained. “It played no small part in how she managed to break Blackfyre’s prison when she’d been captured, and how she defeated the dragon.”

The Councilor leaned forward eagerly and even her mask couldn’t hide her excitement. “It has?! That's incredible!”

Another member of the Council shook their head. “That's impossible. The last pony the sword bonded to was Torch. It's been inert since he was killed.”

“This one saw it with its own eyes,” this one confirmed. “It’s connected with her now, and this one isn’t sure it would allow itself to come with this one if it tried to bring it to Freeport due to the nature of that bond.”

The Councilor preoccupied with Chainbreaker continued to talk in an excited tone. Perhaps she was the Historian? “If the old legends are true, she could call it back to herself with a wave of her hoof and a thought anyway. It was said nothing could keep Torch’s sword away from him while he lived.”

“She is able to do everything with the sword that Torch was reported to be able to,” this one explained. “In addition to calling upon the blade, she was able to remove the runic geas Blackfyre had placed on the Glimmer-mare—no small feat even for a highly skilled magus.”

The Skeptic scoffed. “Ah yes, and surely it's a legitimate bond, and not her and Celestia conspiring to manufacture something while they have the sword for however many months they'll be keeping it. If anyone had the knowledge and ability to modify the blade to benefit her adopted daughter, it would be her.”

This one felt its irritation grow at the Skeptic’s needling. This was beyond just the normal scepticism of the role he played; this was outright calling the validity of this one’s report into question. “Everything this one saw happened before the Shimmer-mare met back up with the White Pony.”

“So you claim,” the Skeptic sneered. “We know she's ambitious. And more to the point, we know you're ambitious.”

This one’s eyes narrowed. “Is the councilor accusing this one of something?” It was certainly sounding like the Councilor was suggesting this one belonged to a conspiracy.

There was a buzz of magic in the air that this one knew to be the communication magic built into the masks of the Council, so subtle that only someone sensitive to magic or who knew what to look for would even detect it. The Council didn’t like to air its disagreements out in the open for anyone to hear. As far as anyone outside the Council would be able to see, the Council spoke with one voice and one will. In truth, the Council was very much made up of thirteen powerful individuals, each with their own goals and desires, but letting that fact out into the open was extremely bad form.

After a few minutes, an unusually long debate for the Council to have in front of this one, the Skeptic spoke. “Don't pretend to be so naive, you're not fooling anyone. I'm sure you can grasp the potential implications of establishing that Chainbreaker has bonded to a new wielder for the first time since Torch Charger used it.”

It dawned on this one that maybe there was something much more serious going on here than it had originally suspected. This wasn’t just about getting a historical artifact back to its place in a museum; there was a much bigger game going on. Could the Council see the Shimmer-mare as a legitimate threat to their rule? At first it seemed a ridiculous proposal when this one did the math. The Council had the vast resources of a nation at their disposal: an army of mercenary soldiers, the wealth of the public coffers, the resources of a full bureaucracy at their beck and call, and a network of spies and agents throughout Freeport and beyond.

While the Shimmer-mare was a talented and powerful pony in her own right, she was but one mare. She might have been able to kill a dragon, but there was a vast gulf of difference between what it took to kill a single creature, however mighty it was, and what was required to take on an entire government. True, she had a small circle of friends and allies, but that was nothing compared to the resources the Council could bring to bare. Talented, wealthy, and with a degree of influence, but in the grand scheme of things that was all she had—along with Chainbreaker.

Could this one have miscalculated the importance of Chainbreaker? This one quickly reevaluated its appraisal of the situation, putting aside any personal feelings it had. Chainbreaker had belonged to Torch Charger, who had overthrown the Necrocrats and allowed the rise of the Council to rule Freeport. While a formidable weapon in its own right, for the Council’s purposes the sword’s real value was as a symbol. Torch and the Council had freed the slaves and removed the corrupt rule of the Necrocrats. It was a story everyone in Freeport knew.

If the Shimmer-mare was the first bearer of Chainbreaker since Torch, how would the average person perceive that? That question made this one realize it had a critical blindspot: it preferred to think logically, with facts, dispassionately and cooly as it fit everything into neat rows. Sometimes this one had to remind itself that that wasn’t how everyone thought. Most people’s perceptions of reality were warped by emotions, personal philosophies and beliefs, lies we told ourselves, limits to the facts we could know, and personal biases.

Fact: Freeport was filled with the disadvantaged and those unhappy with the status quo. Between indentured servants, the destitute, those struggling to get by day-to-day and those with grievances with how the Council ruled, there were a lot of people who wanted someone to solve their woes and change the status quo. What if people saw the Shimmer-mare, the new bearer of Chainbreaker, as that savior—a Torch reborn?

This one realized that it was in a much more precarious situation than it originally thought. If enough members of the Council thought the Shimmer-mare was a threat to their rule and decided it would be best to nip the potential problem in the bud before it became serious...

This one leapt into damage control. “This one thinks you exaggerate the problem. Things are very different now than back when the Necrocrats ruled Freeport and Torch overthrew them. Equestria isn’t raiding our shipping and threatening the country with invasion, and there’s no economic crisis caused by a collapse in trade or a vast population of slaves just ready to rise up against their masters. The Council’s rule is stable and benefits the majority of the population. What’s more, while the Shimmer-mare may wish to do away with some of the corruption within Freeport, she’s a long way away from wanting to do something so extreme as cause a revolution.”

“So you claim,” the Skeptic sneered. “But we all know the Magus has a rebellious streak.”

“And yet she still largely follows the Council laws and orders,” this one countered. “While she might like to toe the line now and then, that’s a long way from outright defying the Council’s will.”

The Historian said, “I think it's exciting to know we'll finally have a new wielder. If approached appropriately, we could use this to enhance the prestige of the Council.”

“‘Exciting’? That's one word for it.” This one could all but hear the Skeptic’s eyes narrowing behind his mask. “Can we trust a known liar and the magus he has under his hoof? Do you expect us to believe that Starlight Glimmer, a pony who owes her life to Magus Shimmer, just conveniently happened to steal the sword right as Puzzle was leaving Freeport? And it just so happened to fall into Sunset's hooves, all the way in the North, far from the Council’s eyes? It’s also suspicious how they then used the blade to kill Blackfyre and seize his immense hoard for themselves. Oh, and going by Puzzle’s report, it will be years before we can actually have Starlight for ourselves despite her crimes on Freeport’s soil. And now the sword is under the control of Celestia and her personal student. Are we to still believe that this was all a wild series of coincidences, or is it more believable that some mind, one with the necessary skill, intelligence, and indecent ambition, formulated a plan to make all of this happen?”

It didn’t take much imagination to guess who he was suggesting might come up with such a plan. This one chuckled in response to belittle it all. “With all respect to the Councilor, he is weaving a conspiracy that doesn't exist. This one is good at its craft, but not that good. Does this one need to explain to the Council the sheer number of ways such an overly elaborate conspiracy could go wrong? Attempting to kill Blackfyre, an ancient and powerful dragon that was a match for the White Pony and Argentium, is just asking for one of us to get killed. Not to mention what would have happened if the Glimmer-mare had botched her theft of Chainbreaker or been caught murdering Frozen Finds. As they say, no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

The Skeptic steepled his hooves. “And you’ve proven quite capable of adapting when necessary historically, and have a willingness to gamble when the potential rewards are high enough. Perhaps you hadn’t planned on Blackfyre attacking Northmarch when he did, but you know how to take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, don’t you Puzzle?”

This one rolled its eyes. “So this one does, but this one thinks this crosses the line from opportunism to surviving a crisis that we’d been swept up in. As this one explained in its report, everything came about as a result of the Glimmer-mare’s actions. She was the one that awakened Blackfyre while attempting to loot his hoard and got captured and enslaved for her troubles. She came to Freeport to kill her former compatriot who’d abandoned her and made off with part of Blackfyre’s horde, and in turn stole Chainbreaker in the hopes that it would help free her from Blackfyre’s control. The blade is known to have special properties that allow it to break magical compulsions and enchantments, like the one she’d been placed under.”

“We only have your word about Starlight’s motivations,” the Skeptic countered. “And once again, it has to be pointed out that she’s been placed beyond where we can easily get to her. We can’t bring her back to Freeport without offending Argentium.”

This one had a counter to the Skeptic’s counter. “And what of the fact that the Glimmer-mare assaulted the Shimmer-mare in the middle of Coldharbor, resulting her in going to the hospital to treat her injuries? Or are you going to claim that was some sort of convoluted play we put on in order to trick everyone?” This one snorted. “If the Council feels the need, it can always send agents to Northmarch to interview the Glimmer-mare and anyone else involved in the incident. This one is sure Argentium would allow such a thing, considering a Freeportian citizen has been murdered. The Council can even ask for Argentium’s version of events if it wishes.”

The Skeptic shook his head. “And what assurances do we have that the both of them wouldn’t lie as part of some plot against Freeport? Both of them have reasons to support Magus Shimmer. As already pointed out, the Magus saved Starlight’s life and she also killed Argentium’s greatest nemesis. Not to mention the Magus’ mother is the Archmagus of Northmarch, creating yet another link in a potential conspiracy.”

“Was the burning of Coldhabor also a part of our plans?” this one demanded. “The flight of refugees? The return of the Blightspawn? Are you accusing Argentium, the Archmagus, and the White Pony of being part of a conspiracy that—”

This one was stopped when the Minister held up a hoof, and another buzz of communication started. This one wasn’t sure what was being said between them, but it could feel the tension in the air. Several members of the Council were now looking at one another, and while their cloaks and masks did much to cover their body language this one noted the occasional jerky movement, leaning forward in aggressive movements and grinding hooves against the tabletop. They were arguing.

What did that mean? Had the Skeptic gone too far? Not far enough? Made some misstep or gone off script? Was the Council split, or trying to decide how to deal with this one and the Shimmer-mare? What this one would have done to be able to listen in on their conversation, or at least be able to plead its case considering what the Skeptic was accusing us of could amount to treason.

Eventually the buzz stopped, and the Minister addressed the meeting. “At the moment, we can only speculate without evidence. We will settle the matter once Sunset and Chainbreaker return.”

This one wasn’t sure how to read that response. Had the Council really decided to kick the can down the road for a later decision until they had more time to review the facts, or was it just cover for a different, potentially more nefarious, plan? Those masks were extremely annoying at times.

“This one is sure the Shimmer-mare will be able to calm any disquiet the Council is currently feeling.” This one wasn’t quite so sure of that for multiple reasons; one was that the Shimmer-mare wasn’t the most diplomatic person in the world. She had improved significantly with experience and instruction, but she still had trouble hiding her scorn for those she disapproved of—or more accurate to say—she rarely felt the need to. She would not appreciate being accused of being part of a conspiracy that caused all the damage in Northmarch, and this one severely doubted she would take such slander silently. Especially after all she’d been through.

For that matter, this one was about to tear into the Skeptic for his false assertions, and that fact likely played some part for why the Council had suddenly gone into a long period of internal debate. That, and the fact that Skeptic was probably being disingenuous in his accusations, especially if this one was right about who he was. Oh, and this one was conspiring, even if the Skeptic was off the mark on what this one had been up to Northmarch. Blackfyre’s return might have thrown off this one’s short term plans, but this one wasn’t beat by a long shot.

Skeptic was right about one thing: this one was ambitious, and upon reflection, the Shimmer-mare coming to be the bearer of Chainbreaker offered some tantalizing possibilities. Just as long as the Council didn’t do anything extreme because they believed the Shimmer-mare was a threat to their power...

There was another buzz, and then the Minister spoke. “That should be everything on that issue.”

This one inclined its head. Though this one wanted to press the issue and argue our case, it was clear the Council was done discussing the matter. “Very well, Council. If there is nothing else…?”

“You can go.” Smug satisfaction dripped from the Skeptic’s words as this one moved to go. “You have quite a bit of work to do putting your own house in order.”

This one stopped in its tracks. “What do you mean?”

“You hadn't heard?” This one couldn’t see the smug grin on the Skeptic’s face, but it knew it was there on sound alone, even past the distortion. “Our vaunted information broker doesn’t know what’s happening under his own roof? How ... pathetic. Your organization has been tearing itself apart in your absence.”

This one grimaced. If the Councilor was telling the truth, and this one very much suspected he was, then this one’s worst fears had come true. Had that been part of why this one had been attacked at the docks? Had one of this one’s lieutenants hired an assassin to kill this one so they could seize power within this one’s organization? “News has been sparse from Freeport since this one left, and this one only just got back.”

Another Councilor spoke with scorn in their tone. “And you've been quite busy in Northmarch by all reports. Whatever the case, you need to put a stop to the infighting. Buildings have been burned, bodies found in the street, and people are becoming upset at the chaos. This is intolerable. Fix it. Immediately.”

This one bowed its head, trying to sound reticent as it spoke. “Of course, this one will make that a priority. What can you tell this one about the conflict within its organization?”

The Skeptic gave this one a dismissive flick of his hoof. “You're the information broker, figure it out.”

This one tried not to let the rebuttals get to it. “It would help this one bring the conflict to a close faster if it knew what was going on. Surely it would benefit us all if this one swiftly returned peace to the streets.”

There was another buzz of conversation, and then the Minister straightened himself. “We will forward our reports to you once they've been reviewed.”

This one frowned as it sensed it was being stonewalled. “Any information you have right now is fine. This one knows how to work with disparate bits of intel.”

“We don't keep sensitive documents scattered around the briefing room,” the Skeptic announced.

The Historian started speaking, causing a few of the councilors to turn their heads in her direction, and a buzz of conversation started and kept going as she spoke. “Your lieutenants had a falling out with each other a few weeks after you left, and now there's blood in the streets. If you weren't already on your way back we might have sent the condottieri in to settle it.”

The threat was pretty obvious. This one was to clean its house or the Council would clean it for it. This one was half surprised they hadn’t intervened already. This one had its enemies amid their numbers and those that just didn’t like it, not to mention more than a few had their feathers rustled by the whole matter surrounding Chainbreaker and its theft. Even if this one had nothing to do with its actual theft, this one had failed to investigate the theft when it had the chance in order to go to Northmarch, and that must have offended a few Councilors.

So why hadn’t they acted against this one when they had a golden opportunity? With this one away and, from what they had said, the organization fighting itself, it would have been easy to cull back this one’s organization. That would have done considerable damage to this one’s influence and power. That hadn’t happened for some reason. But why? Especially when they refused to tell this one anything important besides that that this one’s organization was infighting. Surely they had to know something about what was going on.

The latest buzz of conversation came to an end, and a growl rolled out of the Skeptic’s throat before a self-satisfied sneer came through his words. “As it stands, if you don't get them under control soon you won't have an organization left.” This one could practically hear the vindictive smirk behind his mask. “Of course, now that you've been gone for so long they might prefer being their own masters to working for you.”

This one kept its tone carefully neutral in response. “Then this one will merely have to show them the errors of their ways.” Though what exactly this one was going to do depended on what was actually happening on the streets. Perhaps one or more of this one’s lieutenants were still loyal to this one, and there was the danger that this one’s organization had been somehow co-opted by another group in Freeport, or had merged with them in some manner. There was just so much this one didn’t know, and it was not helped by the Council intentionally keeping this one in the dark. “This one will immediately get to work on this. All this one needs is some time to do what it needs to do.”

A cautionary tone entered the Minister’s voice. “Take the time you need. Just be aware that if things get too out of hand, it will cease to be a private matter.”

So this one had time, but this one had better not let matters get out of hoof or take too long. “This one understands.”

“Good.” The Minister leaned back in his seat. “Then you are dismissed.”

What Lies Hidden

One of this one’s greatest fears had come to pass: its lieutenants were fighting and tearing this one’s organization apart. To make matters worse, this one was almost completely in the dark about what happened. Why were they fighting? Was there a clash of personalities? Had one of them launched a coup to try and take over the organization? Where were they? Were any of them dead or disabled? What resources did they have? Were any of them winning this street war?

This one could sense that things were about to become very complicated. While this one was currently in the dark, there were things it could do to change that. But first this one wanted to put one ball down before it ended up with more in the air than it could juggle. Time was ticking; it would only be a matter of time until this one’s lieutenants learned this one had returned to Freeport and acted in response, but there was a matter this one didn’t want to delay. Not when it tied into one of this one’s most critical long term plans.

This one transformed into a nondescript pegasus as it left the Council’s Palace and made its way onto Freeport’s streets. The rain had lightened considerably, but didn’t seem to be in any kind of rush to stop. It felt like the storm was saving its strength for later. This one was particularly mindful of being followed. Naturally this one always watched for tails, but while this one normally tolerated a certain degree of surveillance on itself, this was not one of those times.

After wandering randomly for a couple of blocks, this one discovered that it was indeed being followed by at least two agents. They were good; they worked in tandem, occasionally moving into alleys and shops to change disguises, and even their very forms. Changelings then, little surprise. But the rain worked against them, for there was only so much they could do about their cloaks protecting them from the rain. They could turn them inside out, but that only really worked a couple of times, and to abandon them would make them stand out even more. If this one had to guess, based on their skill and the fact that they'd been following this one out of the Palace, they probably belonged to the Masks—the Council’s intelligence agency. Now as to what they were up to, and for whom...?

This one decided not to take chances. This one ducked down an alley, flew over the roof of a building to land in another alley and changed to another disguise. Then more flying, cutting through alleys, a couple more disguise changes, and walking right through a restaurant and going out the back before anyone inside really noticed anything was amiss. This one even bought a new cloak and ditched its slightly damaged cloak. After this one was done and had walked a couple of city blocks, this one was reasonably confident it had lost its tails.

That done, this one made its way to its destination. The neighborhood this one entered was filled with office buildings for professionals such as lawyers, merchants, and even a mercenary company. The structure that concerned this one was an old abandoned holding that used to hold an office for a private investigator before this one bought the whole building. Some would claim this one was overly sentimental for buying up a piece of property where its dad used to work and then not do anything with it, but the fact that this building had seemingly been forgotten by this one was but the first layer of deception this one had set up.

This one headed to the back of the office and double checked to see if anyone was around. This one saw nothing, so it pulled out the key and unlocked the door. This one headed inside and closed the door. As was this one’s custom, it carefully looked around the office. It was a relatively simple affair; a simple, sturdy desk dominated the room, as well as a couple file cabinets, a bookshelf covered with reference materials and some other reading material.

This had been where this one’s dad met with his clients back when he had still been working as a private investigator, as well as reviewed files and anything else he needed to do when he wasn’t in the field. This one had spent hours here as a grub, learning and watching him at work. While many people had a romanticised image of the job, the reality of being a private investigator was that it was a lot of paperwork and waiting around on stakeouts. Most of the time Dad was hired to try and catch a spouse cheating on their significant other. Often the couples would be in the process of divorcing, and a few photographs of the ex kissing another person who wasn’t their spouse played nicely for the court. That was usually quite important to wealthy clients where fortunes in ducats and assets were on the line.

Every once in a while though, Dad would get an interesting case like trying to find a missing person, find evidence for a lawyer, or even the odd job from the Masks when the spy agency couldn’t risk having their involvement made public. It was during one of those jobs for the Masks that this one had caught the attention of Double Dilemma and been recruited to work for them.

That seemed like an age ago; the dust gathering in the office only made it seem more so, and this one’s life had taken a great many unexpected turns since then. Some positive, some not. Seeing where this one’s life was now... This one wished some things had gone differently, even if it had ultimately landed on its hooves.

But this one didn’t have time to ruminate on the past, there was work to be done. This one double-checked the wards on the building. They were basic things really, just alarms set to call the condottieri in the event someone tried to break in. Everything seemed alright—except something that caught this one’s eye. Something seemed off about the chalk rune by the back entrance, and it took this one a few moments to figure out what was wrong. There were chalk smears around it. Someone had disabled the ward and then fixed the damage they had caused so that no one would notice—but whoever had been here hadn’t done a perfect job of cleaning up after themselves. Or, as the more paranoid part of this one’s mind thought, they had done this so many times the chalk had stained the wood around the rune.

This one’s body stiffened in reaction to one of its sanctuaries being violated. Why had someone come here? This one had checked this place thoroughly before leaving for Northmarch and nothing had been amiss, so this happened while this one was away. Why? Was this related to this one’s lieutenants fighting one another? Had one of them hoped to find something here, or had it been another opportunistic party that had come into Dad’s office? Had they suspected something was here, or merely been checking to see if there was?

Nothing had been stolen as far as this one could see. This one even kept an old envelope with some ducats in it inside the desk in the event some thief did come in here, but a quick check showed it hadn’t been touched. Some thief just looking for an easy mark should have taken something, but someone with other goals wouldn’t want to risk anything being out of place out of fear this one would notice they had been here.

This one’s guard was fully up now, and it started triple-checking for anything out of place. Nothing stood out, which only served to make this one even more paranoid. But there wasn’t anything it could do yet, not with things as they were with its organization, and this one still had to do what it came here for.

This one headed to a corner of the office and pulled aside a rug to reveal a steel door in the floor. Unlocking it, this one climbed down a steep set of stairs into the basement. The basement was pretty utilitarian as well; there were several file cabinets filled with Dad’s old case files and other paperwork, a large board on the wall was covered by a map of the city and several notes held up by pushpins, a small table with all the instruments to make coffee, a small shelf with expired cans of food, and an old cot for when Dad had to pull all-nighters. The alarm and paralysis wards here hadn’t been triggered either, though this one wasn’t sure if that was a good sign.

The basement had been Dad’s old hidey-hole if he had absolutely needed to hide himself or someone else, though this one had repurposed it as yet another layer of deception. This one lifted up the board and placed it to the side. Some careful probing of the wall let this one pull away a solid sheet of wood. Behind all of that was a solid steel door with several fine stones built into it. Anyone that tried to break down this door was going to profoundly regret it.

This one inserted its horn into a slot in the door, and after it read this one’s magic, there was a click and the clatter of mechanisms moving as the door opened. Within was one of the boltholes this one had set up in the city. It had everything this one needed to survive for a few months if absolutely necessary. There was a small bed, shelves covered with canned and non-perishable food, a small shelf with books and some other items for entertainment, a tall safe full of potions and weapons, a rack where a set of armor sat, and a few other necessities. This particular bolthole had been a pain to set up, considering it wanted to keep it as much of a secret as possible. This one had been forced to build much of this place itself, which had required reading several do-it-yourself books and carefully asking experts how to do specific tasks. The magical side had been even more difficult to hide; this one had been forced to contract several individuals for the help, and as part of the agreement they had the memories of their work erased. Well, this one hadn’t dared to ask Argentium to erase her memory after she’d created several runes for this one, but her word of secrecy was as good as sacred, and in the end it had been worth the trouble and significant expense.

But even the bolthole was yet another layer of deception. Sure, this one could use this place to rest and plan if necessary, but it was intended to trick anyone into thinking that this is what Dad’s old office hid. After all, a bolthole hidden behind another old hiding hole was already pretty elaborate, but tricking someone into believing they knew the hidden truth had its advantages, especially when it kept them from digging for what you actually didn’t want them to know.

This one cleared its throat before it spoke loud and clear. “Those of talent should seek to do more.”

After speaking the passphrase, there was an audible grinding of gears, and a door revealed itself as it pushed aside a shelf. Though the door opened, this one didn’t immediately step through; instead it sat down and took several deep breaths as it meditated, clearing its mind of any distractions. This one really, really didn’t want to mess up this next part.

Once this one was sure it was centered, it strode into the next room. The door immediately slammed shut behind this one and it found itself in a room about the size of a particularly large closet; the entire floor was covered by tiles that each had a seemingly random sigil on them. The walls and ceilings were covered by blocks that each possessed arcane runes with only some small holes and slots in spaces between them. On the far side was another reinforced metal door with its own runes.

This one promptly stepped onto four specific tiles and waited until each of them began to glow. Then this one’s hooves moved in a specific pattern to hit each of the other tiles on the floor, lighting them all up except for one. That done, there was a click and the door opened. This one let out the breath it hadn’t realized it had been holding. This part always made this one nervous; during its time with the Do-mare, we sometimes spent time coming up with ideas for traps to fit a multitude of scenarios, one of which involved not letting any unauthorized visitors into the room beyond. The room this one exited was nothing less than a guaranteed death trap.

Anyone who stepped into the chamber and didn’t do what they were supposed to would find themselves instantly hit with an absolute barrage of spells, ranging from fireballs, lightning bolts, freezing spells, and acid. Mechanical traps would also trigger, resulting in an equal variety and abundance of death dealt with spikes and blades made from a variety of materials to deal with all sorts of invading creatures. It was all intended to make sure anything that wasn’t this one, whatever it was, ended up very dead. This one wasn’t sure what, if anything, could survive such a barrage, but if something like that did exist this one also hoped to never, ever meet it.

Exiting the trap room brought this one to the heart of it all: The Vault. It was here that this one was bringing everything together for one of its two great plans. The chamber held objects that this one had been gathering for years: against the far wall were glass-sealed bookcases enchanted to preserve the sometimes ancient books within. Among the titles were the only surviving volumes of Invasions of the Black Swarm, Physiology of Monsters, and The Calamity of Hoogistan. To the left were shelves and stands for a hooffull of artifacts both magical and mundane. An old beetle-like shaped helmet used by one of the Old Mind’s drones, a shard of black rock that prevented the use of magic around it, and a broken log were but some of the things collected here.

On the right side of the room was a more grisly collection. Stone sarcophagi lined the wall, each enchanted with stasis and preservation magic to keep the corpses inside perfectly preserved, or at least as much as they could be given the conditions they died in. Within the many sarcophagi lay an example of one of the Old Mind’s latest drones, the remains of an earlier drone she had possessed back at Sweetashe Isle, and even what little remained of the proto-changeling the Shimmer-mare had fought and killed. Also lining the walls were numerous paintings and drawings, each showing changeling anatomy or changelings and portrayals of the Old Mind during historical events. Many of them were centuries old, and in multiple cases they were the only copies known to exist.

Seeing that everything was where it should be, this one sat down on a cushion in the center of the room. A small living room-like arrangement had been made for those times this one wanted to spend some time and review the materials it had gathered here. This one took off its saddlebags and opened them up to pull out what it had gotten from Argentium. Thankfully, the interdimensional holding space within the bags had kept the books inside from getting wet or otherwise damaged during the adventure in Northmarch.

The first book this one retrieved was Great Threats to Equestria by Starswirl the Bearded. It was a massive tome that Argentium had copied for this one, and it was but one of only three copies in all the world. One was stored somewhere deep within Canterlot’s Secret Royal Library and the other within Argentium’s personal collection. Written in Unicornian, most copies of the book had disappeared over the centuries, despite the fact that most of Starswirl’s books had been preserved and reprinted over and over again since the famous magus’ disappearance. The last attempt to print the book had been stopped when the whole printing shop burned down. Not an unusual occurrence for the time it had happened, but this one had its suspicions considering how most of the books in the Vault had similar stories for why they were so rare.

The other book this one pulled out, The Black Scourge of Dream Valley, was even rarer, and this one hadn’t even known it’d even existed before Argentium had been kind enough to bring it to this one’s attention. It was a copy of sorts of the original. Argentium’s copy was so ancient and rare that it was within the section of the wyrm’s collection that she didn’t let anyone see for fear that her tomes might be damaged or destroyed. In any event, the original was in a language so ancient and dead that this one wouldn’t have been able to read it anyway, despite being a polyglot. Even the Do-mare would have been hard-pressed to read such a long dead language. Thankfully, Argentium had done all the translating for this one, with plenty of notes for what the most literal translation would be for the most important passages.

This one had read each carefully on the way back to Freeport and absorbed the information within, as it had done with all the books within this most private and special collection. As was the way of things, this one grabbed a catalogue and carefully recorded what it was adding to the collection, and then placed the books on the shelves along with the others. That done, this one returned to its saddlebags and withdrew a metal suitcase from within.

This one carefully opened the suitcase to look at the object within. The books had been valuable, but what this one saw now was even moreso. Commissioning Argentium to build this magical artifact hadn’t come cheaply or easily, but hopefully it would be worth the considerable cost. This one slowly ran its hoof over the potent runes of the magical item and felt the latent magical energies within.

This one closed the suitcase back up, and after cataloguing it as well, placed it on the shelf along with several other artifacts. This one might have had big plans for the future, but first it needed to survive the next few days and regain control of its organization.

This one made sure to take advantage of the supplies available in the bolthole. It might have been a decoy, but the closer it appeared and functioned like the real thing the better, both to serve as a distraction but also in case this one did need a safe place. Such as now. So this one availed itself of several daggers, a pair of batons nearly as long as this one’s legs, most of the available potions, a couple packets of dried fruit, several fresh talismans, multiple types of enchanted gems, a fresh cloak, spare ducats, and the set of scale-mail armor. This one stored some of the weapons, gems, and potions in the numerous pockets in the cloak, but the majority of everything went into the saddlebags, including the armor. There was plenty of space in the enchanted saddlebags, and this one didn’t want to appear like it was ready to fight a war while walking down the street.

This one examined its battered old shock gauntlet. It had served this one well for many years, but it was really starting to show its age. Worse still for right now, it was too recognizable when this one needed to be unnoticed, so into the bags it went.

That left the question of where this one was going to head next. Gathering information seemed the most pressing issue at the moment. There were far too many things this one didn’t know thanks to its long time away from Freeport, and that needed to be fixed. This one transformed into a unicorn disguise and headed out of Dad’s PI office, careful to make sure no one was paying it any kind of attention.

This one had one good place that could help this one figure out what was going on: the office. With any luck, there should be some kind of intel to go through at Puzzle Piece’s Problem Solvers. Better yet if the Penny-mare was there, since she should know something helpful assuming she hadn’t been dragged into this mess...

But when this one reached the street of its office it found itself stopping and staring.

This one’s office had been burned to the ground. All that remained were burnt and shattered timbers, now damp in the rain. The ruins had collapsed into the basement, and it didn’t look like anything had survived the fire. Even the neighboring buildings had been damaged by the blaze.

It ... hurt to see this. Objectively, it was nothing but wood, stone, and other building materials, but it had belonged to this one. All the time this one had spent at Puzzle Piece’s Problem Solvers—work done, clients met, investments made—was now only a burned out ruin. Gone. This one severely doubted it was an accident. This was a direct attack against this one, and it didn’t suffer injuries lightly.

But first this one needed to figure out what happened. By now the weather was merely drizzling, and there were a few people on the streets now. Mostly people walking along on business or taking breaks from work, but there were a few standing around and talking. This one took note of them all.

This one headed to the building on the other side of the street from what had once been this one’s place of business. It belonged to a reasonably successful law practice focusing on business law, and perhaps someone there had seen something, or heard news or at least rumors about what had happened. This one needed something to follow up on.

Going through the entrance, this one found itself in the law practice’s lobby. Sitting behind a large desk was the secretary. She was a zebra mare with a chubby smile that radiated good cheer. Esin, according to her name plate. “Good day, sir!” she said as this one reached the desk. “How can I help you?”

This one put on the mask of an apologetic stallion who was sorry to disturb the busy mare, it smiled unnaturally and spoke with a degree of hesitation. “Um, hello? I’m sorry for bothering you, but I just got into port and I was looking for Puzzle’s Problem Solvers.” This one grimaced as it glanced back at the door. “But I have a bad feeling that building that was burned down was where I was going.”

Esin let out a long sigh. “I’m afraid you’re right. Puzzle’s office burned down a few months ago.”

“What happened?”

The secretary shifted in her seat. “I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to be honest. I was just sitting here doing my job when suddenly there was a scream and some commotion coming from across the street. Curious, I looked outside and saw a dreadful sight. Merry Penny, that’s Puzzle’s secretary, was being dragged out by some nasty-looking thugs. They were in the middle of pushing her into a carriage when I’d gotten outside, and the top floor of Problem Solvers was already on fire.”

This one’s chest tightened. “So they were kidnapping Merry?”

“Looked like it,” Esin confirmed. “She didn’t look like she wanted to go with them, and those thugs got out of there like a bat out of Tartarus once they had her shoved into their carriage. Everything was already over by the time the condottieri and fire brigade showed up.”

“Any idea why all of that happened?” This one already had some pretty good guesses, but it was best not to assume anything when questioning someone.

Esin shook her head. “I could only imagine. Rumors are that there’s some sort of street war going on between Puzzle’s employees, but it’s hard to say; the rumors are all over the place these days. Everyone says that Puzzle left town before all this mess started and hasn’t come back. I really wish he’d come back already. Things were quieter when he was around.”

“Hopefully he comes back soon, then.” This one rubbed its chin as a barrage of questions came to it. Who had kidnapped the Penny-mare, and why? Likely it was because she knew things about this one’s business. This one kept a great many secrets about its business from the Penny-mare, such as how to access this one’s bank accounts, but no one else knew that. Though this one had to ask why the Penny-mare hadn’t gone underground when everything started to go wrong. A safehouse had been set up just for her in case things got hairy, and this one had firm instructions for her to go to it in the event she thought she might be in danger. Such as if this one’s lieutenants started fighting one another. Even in a worst case scenario, there were arrangements for the Penny-mare to take a ticket to Manehattan to go to this one’s safehouse there.

So why hadn’t she? Could it be that she was among the first targets for this one’s lieutenants when everything started? Why had this one’s office been set on fire? Was it an accident, or had it been done intentionally? Was there a purpose to destroying the office, or had it simply been an act of destruction intended more to wound an opponent than achieve an actual objective?

Whatever happened, if whoever had happened to kidnap the Penny-mare had hurt her then they were profoundly going to regret it. This one already owed them for what happened to its office.

But first this one needed to figure out who’d done it. “Any idea who kidnapped her?” this one asked. “Any details, symbols, ways to identify them?”

Esin shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no. That happened months ago, and I’ve done my best to put that whole nasty business out of my mind. They were all cloaked, so I couldn’t identify any of them. I don’t even remember the carriage having a plate on it.”

This one frowned as it hit the deadend. “Anything else you can tell me? It’s important.”

“Afraid I can’t,” she said. “It all happened so quickly, and everything else is just wild rumor by this point.”

Sensing that this one wasn’t going to get anything more of value from the secretary, this one gave her a smile. “It’s okay. And thank you. I’ll let you get back to work now.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Esin waved as this one started going. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

This one existed the practice and let out a sigh. It shook its head and started down the street towards the nearby cafe this one liked to frequent during better days.

Things were bad, and probably about to get worse. The office had been burned to the ground; the Penny-mare had been kidnapped by unknown assailants, probably to get at this one; at least one of this one’s lieutenants was most likely involved, though it didn’t know which one and there was the possibility that kidnapping had been done by a third party. There were still too many unknowns to allow this one to act decisively.

Worse still, this one had just picked up another couple of tails.

They were competent at the job, doing all the right things to remain unnoticed, but this one had been in this business for years. This one had taken note of them near the office, and as this one exited the cafe with a cup of coffee it noticed them just mulling about. The rain worked against them; even if it wasn’t as heavy now, very few people would just mill about the street waiting to get drenched. There were at least two of them—a tall zebra stallion with a pair of scars running along his cheek, and a female gryphon more wide than tall with a twitchiness about her. The zebra had taken a seat at one of the cafe’s patio tables, looking slightly ridiculous reading a wet newspaper while trying to stay dry under an umbrella more intended to protect people from the sun than the rain.

Their presence left this one with one of three options: one, ignore them and continue with its business as normal. Something about them and the way they glanced at this one made its carapace itch, so not likely.

Two, get away from them. Not a bad idea, but where would that leave this one? About where it’d been before heading into the cafe: with a whole lot of nothing but questions.

That left option three, confrontation. It was dangerous, but this one wasn’t going to get anywhere without taking some risks. At least not without running out of time with the Council.

Besides, this one wanted to know who was following it this time, and whoever it was might be able to give this one a tidbit or two of information. While some seemed to think this one could produce intel magically out of the aether, the truth was that investigating usually involved a lot of work going around asking people questions, waiting in the right places, and looking through documents until you got the answers you needed. It could often be tedious work, but it sometimes posed a degree of risk all the same.

This one took its coffee and sat down opposite of the zebra. “Why, hello there. Nice to meet you.”

The zebra glanced over the top of his newspaper and grunted in reply, pointedly turning the page to his paper.

While this one could have continued to be coy, after finding out what happened with the Penny-mare and its office this one wasn’t feeling particularly patient. “You know, your act would be more convincing if you went inside to read. Someone being unlucky and getting soaked alongside their newspaper I can buy—but that person continuing to stay outside, getting wet and ruining their paper? No, that’s just strange and too noticeable.”

The zebra brought his paper down and glowered. “Maybe I just like the rain.”

“There’s liking the rain, and then there’s asking to catch a cold.” This one leaned forward in its seat as it pressed the issue. “You’re caught. The fact I’m talking with you is proof of that, so how about we drop the pretenses?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” the zebra insisted.

“No?” This one shrugged. “Then I have no reason to let you follow me. It would be simple enough for me to lose you, and then you can go explain to your boss why you had me tailed only to lose me in town.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To add to this one’s frustrations of the zebra being uncooperative, the gryphon approached us alongside a thin earth pony stallion this one hadn’t initially noticed. They stopped around the table, and the gryphon spoke in a low growl. “He the one?”

The zebra hesitated before answering. “Yeah, it’s him.”

The gryphon nodded jerikly. “Lets just take him.”

“Those weren’t our orders,” said the earth pony. “We were told—”

The gryphon cut him off with a slash of her claw. “No, screw all this running around in the rain. We’re ending this now.”

This one out let out a long sigh. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Shut up,” the gryphon snapped. “We didn’t ask you, Puzzle.”

So they were definitely looking for this one. Troublesome, but potentially useful if this one played things right. Of course, there was the fact that they wanted to inflict violence on this one that it had to deal with first.

This one tried sipping its coffee, but found it too hot to drink and removed the lid. “So who is it you’re working for that’s hired such a delightful group such as yourselves to follow me?”

“You’re not the one asking questions here,” the gryphon sneered. “You’re a has-been and everyone knows it. You’ve been gone for too long. It’ll be easy to grab you and take you to the boss.” The gryphon smirked. “Bet he’d give us a big bonus if we did.”

The zebra’s eyes flicked between this one and his compatriots, his body language indicating he wasn’t so confident. The earth pony on the other hoof grinned as he was psyched up by his compatriot’s boldness. “Yeah! We’re not scared of you.”

“This one’s only been gone for a few months. How quickly people forget about the past.” This one let out a melodramatic sigh. “But one final question before you do whatever it is you have planned.” This one pointed to behind them. “Who are your friends over there?”

The zebra and earth pony turned their heads only to see no one coming. Whether out of diligence or confusion, the gryphon didn’t turn her head.

Either way, this one rewarded her with a cup of scalding hot coffee to the face. The gryphon shrieked in pain and stumbled back. Before the other two could recover, this one flipped the table right onto the zebra, knocking him over. The earth pony tried grabbing for this one, but it leapt to its hooves and grabbed an outreaching leg, twisting and slamming him face-first into a nearby table with enough force to knock the table over.

To his credit, the zebra was quick to get back to his hooves and pulled out a knife as he got up. But this one was also moving, and before the zebra could regain his balance this one snatched him by the pastern. With a twist, this one forced the knife from his hoof and snatched the weapon before it hit the ground. This one brought the knife up diagonally and slammed the hilt end into the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The gryphon recovered from the coffee and charged this one, her talons outstretched with the intention of shredding it. Not wanting to deal with those claws, this one tossed the knife and its blade sank into her hindleg. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Having a moment to breathe, this one pulled out a baton from its bags. It only took a few swift blows from the weapon before the fight was out of its assailants.

And just like that, it was over.

After a quick examination of this one’s attackers, this one determined the earth pony was the most capable of answering this one’s questions. This one used its baton to lift his chin as it addressed them. “What did this one tell you would happen if you tried attacking this one?”

The earth pony tried to scoot away from this one. Blood ran from his nose from when this one had rammed it into the table, and his eyes were wide with fear. “Please don’t hurt me!”

This one shook its head and clicked its tongue. “No, this one said you’d regret it. Now do you regret trying to capture this one?” He nodded shakily. “Well, the good news is that there’s an out to all this trouble. You see, this one doesn’t actually care about you. What this one really wants is to know who your boss is and what he’s up to. Give this one some good reasons to walk away happy and you’ll get to live, understand?”

“Don’t tell that bastard anything!” The gryphon tried to stand, but her wounded leg refused to cooperate. A quick hit to one of her forward legs with the baton put her back down again.

This one returned its focus to the earth pony, speaking in a slow, bored tone to make it sound like it was capable of inflicting all sorts of miseries without batting an eye. “Where were we? Oh yes—who are you working for?”

The earth pony drew in on himself, trying to create as much space as he could between this one and him. “I c-can’t tell y-you that. He’ll kill us for that!”

This one lowered its head so we were face to face as this one flashed him a fang-filled grin. “Let this one put it this way: whoever it is you’re employed by might kill you later, but this one is right here right now, and has you at its mercy. What’s more, if this one gets to your boss before he finds out what happened and finds you ... well, what he thinks will become rather irrelevant after that.” This one tapped his shoulder with the baton. “Don’t you think?”

The earth pony swallowed. “B-Blackwing. But he didn’t order us to do anything to you! That was all Gemma’s idea! All we were told to do was follow you, and report back where you went. That’s all, I swear.”

Interesting. So Blackwing was looking for this one. But for what purpose?

“So, where is Blackwing these days?”

The earth pony opened his mouth but was cut off by a shrill whistle. A squad of pegasi forming a condottieri patrol landed next to us, weapons at the ready and their sergeant with a whistle now hanging around his neck. He was a solidly built individual with an iron-grey coat, who looked like he knew how to carry his spear. “Stop right there!”

This one really didn’t need this right now. Once again the condottieri had managed to show up just in time to be late for the action. This one had hoped to get at least a few minutes to interrogate, but that was going to be complicated. Still, this one had dealt with Freeport’s guards enough times to know how to deal with them.

“These people attacked this one while it was going about its business,” this one said as it put away its baton.

The sergeant’s spear didn’t waver, though this one was pretty sure it recognized his face. “Yeah, and who are you?”

Thinking the truth would work best here, this one transformed into its natural form. “Puzzle Piece.”

“Mr. Puzzle? What’s going on here?”

“As this one said, these individuals attacked this one,” it said. “And this one vehemently objected.”

The sergeant pressed his lips together before motioning at this one’s assailants. “Put them in chains, we’ll sort them out in the barracks. I’ll talk with Puzzle.” He stepped closer to this one, and spoke in a quieter voice. “Quite the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?”

If only he knew … which, apparently, he did. “You could say that.” This one checked the name on his badge and smiled. “Sergeant Tin Striker, is it? This one believes you attended the last cookout it had for the condottieri. How’s the wife doing?”

This one made an effort to be on the good side of the condottieri whenever possible. There were plenty of ways the condottieri could make life difficult for this one if they wanted to, so the bits this one spent on bribes and a few other treats were a wise investment.

The sergeant smiled widely. “Really good. Our foal was born just a couple of months ago.”

“Congratulations.” Speaking of bribes, this one pulled out a fair number of ducats for the young stallion. “Here’s a birthday gift for the new kid. This one is sure you’ll find something to spend it on.”

He took the ducats with a smile almost as wide as his previous one. “That we will, Mr. Puzzle.”

“Though back to business.” This one pointed at Blackwing’s agents. “This one would like to interrogate them if possible. They have information that would be helpful to this one.”

The sergeant’s mouth quirked with a grimace. “I’m not sure that would be the best idea at the moment.”

This one raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

The Striker-stallion nodded towards several patrons at the cafe. “Because people are a mite upset over the fight here.” He leaned in to whisper. “If I may be frank, there’s a whole lot of people upset about the fighting in the streets as of late. People asking that the condottieri stomp their hoof down and put an end to it, if you get my meaning.” His eyes flicked to his fellow guards. “And more than a few of the condottieri are thinking we should do just that and bring peace back to the streets. If people aren’t happy then our payments go down, so everyone starts hurting.”

That was indeed a problem. The condottieri depended on the public goodwill for a lot of their income, and if enough people didn’t feel like they were doing a good enough job of keeping the peace... “So what’s been holding you back?”

“Word is that the Powers That Be have told us to back off for now. We’re to leave your organization alone and keep any damages contained and off the street, though it’s all rumors as to why thus far.” He shrugged. “Some guess it’s because they want you to deal with it and save the condottieri the trouble, or because the Council’s got some big scheme going. From there the rumors just get wilder and wilder. You’d probably know better than me, sir.”

“Indeed.” This one frowned. “So in other words, you want to get these prisoners back to the barracks and peace back on the streets so you don’t look bad? Fair enough. Though could I interrogate them in the barracks?”

The sergeant frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe, but you’ll probably have to take it up with the captain. I’m going to warn you right now, you’re not everyone’s favorite changeling right now. Not to mention it’s going to take time to process these three, and whoever ends up in charge of this case is probably going to want to interrogate them first.”

“Understood.” This one was irritated by its investigation being blocked, but taking that irritation out on the sergeant wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “Any idea how long before this one might be able to see them?”

The sergeant shrugged. “Maybe a few hours, maybe more. Could be a whole day if the detective finds anything juicy.”

“This one sees.” It seemed that there was little this one could accomplish here. The condottieri was going to take Blackwing’s agents for now, and pushing them too hard about it would only alienate them. Well, this one had friends within the condottieri, and with time this one could get to its assailants. In the meantime this one would deal with other matters. “If this one is free to go…?”

“You can, though it might be best if you turned in a statement to the barracks when you get a moment,” he said. “I realize you might be really busy right now, but there’s always paperwork to fill out.”

“As this one is all too aware.” This one inclined its head to the sergeant and turned to go.

This little incident, as well as the assassination attempt earlier, had made a particular problem very apparent: this one was alone and vulnerable. That was a huge issue. Even if any of this one’s lieutenants might be inclined to fall back in line, this one’s authority would be badly undercut by a perceived lack of muscle. During times like these, strength was everything. Blackwing’s agents had felt confident in attacking this one because they outnumbered it three to one, and those odds were not likely to get better in future encounters. This one needed friends or allies.

Thankfully, this was Freeport, and in Freeport you could buy some very good friends for the right price.

Loose Ends

The rain continued to patter down as this one approached the Free Companions’ Freeport office. The building was painted in bright (some would say garish) stripes of red, white, and blue. A pair of banners—also in red, white, and blue with a sword and torch intersected in the middle—flapped as the wind and rain beat at them. The merc company owned a whole island as well as a formidable and extremely elaborate castle they had managed to seize from a Necrocrat many centuries ago, but the office was intended to allow for easy access to anyone that wished to hire the Free Companions’ services.

This one had chosen whose service it wanted to hire carefully. The Striker and Doo Clans were often good merc companies to hire, but they weren’t quite what this one needed right at this moment. While the Strikers were certainly formidable fighters, they tended to lack a certain subtlety and adaptability this one would require. The Doos were expert bodyguards, but skullduggery wasn’t exactly their normal cup of tea. This one was forced to disqualify companies such as the True Heirs and the Blood Stripes due to past history and not being ideal for what this one wanted.

The Free Companions were the best suited for what this one needed. They specialized in small unit missions, and were experienced in dealing with a wide range of jobs that often included some of the stranger assignments out there. Many likened them to a semi-organized rabble of adventurers, but the Free Companions had been around for a long time. They had existed since before there was a Council or even a Free Mind species, and possessed a long and storied history. While their services wouldn’t be cheap, they were what this one needed. Their quality would make up for the costs, especially considering the tumultuous days this one had ahead of it.

As this one approached the front door, it transformed back into its natural form. That was a bit uncomfortable given how vulnerable it made this one feel to prying eyes, but it seemed best to approach the merc company openly. Soldiers often valued honesty, especially from those they dealt directly with.

Two fancily dressed guards flanked the door. Each wore breastplates with baggy leggings in bright stripes of red, white, and blue that ran up and down their legs. Their helmets had a plume flowing out of them, and they were equipped with halberds that they clearly knew how to use expertly. The zebra mare of the pair had a sergeant’s stripes and smiled as this one approached. “Hello, Puzzle. What brings you by?”

This one gave them a pleasant smile. “This one would like to hire the Free Companions' services.”

“Well, if you're a client we'll be glad to have you. Come with me.” The sergeant opened the door and escorted this one inside.

On the way to the office, we made our way through the building’s trophy hall. On either flank were multiple suits of armor, displays of weapons, captured banners and those of the Companions, as well as a variety of other trophies ranging from cups, necklaces, and the skulls of monsters. It was no doubt intended to impress anyone seeking to hire the Free Companions, showing a guest both their history and accomplishments as well as help convince them the prices they were going to pay would be worth the cost.

This one decided to play on their pride a bit. Considering this one was going to be hiring their services, it seemed wise to get on their good side. “This is always a fun room to walk through. There’s so much history here. Everything here has a tale to tell. It reminds this one of everything the Free Companions have accomplished during their history.”

The sergeant smiled. Military types always liked to have the accomplishments of their organizations complimented. “Exactly, the history of our company and its triumphs.”

“And there are many.” This one nodded to a painting depicting the Free Companions valiantly fighting against a horde of undead. “Like the time you helped Torch during his rebellion.”

“One of our proudest moments.”

“So this one noticed.” This one pointed at a set of bat-themed plate-armor and a couple banners once belonging to now long-dead Necrocrat houses. “Of course, you have good reasons to be. You did help win the war against the Necrocrats and set up the Council to rule Freeport. Freeport is certainly better off with slavery being brought to an end and the Necrocrats gone, and Torch couldn’t have pulled it off with the Free Companions.”

The guard’s chest swelled. “Yes, and as much as the clans love to brag about Torch being one of theirs, we stood with him too.”

“And at a critical time, too.” In truth, the whole situation had been more complicated than some liked to portray it. For example, while the clans liked to boast that Torch was one of their own, just a decade before Torch’s Rebellion they had helped to almost completely wipe out the Charger Clan as part of an internal Necrocrat plot. While the clans ended up supporting the Last Charger’s cause, that was only after several rather important events transpired to enable it. But while that was a fascinating part of history: it tended to be far more complicated than surface impressions tended to make it.

Before we finished getting to the end of the trophy hall, the familiar form of a female hippogryph stepped out of the office. General Platinum Peacock looked every inch the roguish mercenary adventurer. Like her fellow Companions, she was dressed in a baggy shirt and pants with bright stripes, with colorful jewelry decorating her ears, neck, and talons. Her feathers were as white as snow, with them gradually getting darker until they were a silver at the edges, and her beak and hindleg fur were a near blackish grey.

Platinum smiled widely at the sight of this one. “Puzzle, what a pleasure!” She offered a talon this one readily took, and the two of us embraced in a friendly hug. The two of us had known each other for some time, all the way back to when this one had been an agent of the Masks and we had worked together to deal with a band of fey that had started to disrupt the flow of trade in and out of Freeport. We had the type of bond that only came with two people fighting back to back.

“It's been too long,” this one said as we broke the embrace.

“It really has been.” Platinum slapped this one on the shoulder. “We should work together more often.” She shot this one a wry grin. “Even if I still haven't completely forgiven you for taking away my chance to recruit Sunset Shimmer.”

This one grinned back. “Sorry about that, but this one had a job at the time.”

“I suppose I can forgive you for that.” She poked this one in the chest. “This time.”

“Then perhaps this one can get back in your good graces with a new contract?”

Platinum waved for us to enter her office. “Money heals ... well not all wounds, but it'll do for this one.”

“Good to hear.” This one entered an office that was at least as ostentatious as the trophy hall, no doubt to wow any visitor. Every possible spot along the floor and walls were filled with luxurious and expensive furniture, banners, paintings depicting the Companions’ greatest exploits and past leaders of the company, every imaginable type of war trophy from medals, rings, scepters, and even a couple of crowns. The Companions were not a subtle or modest merc company where such displays were concerned.

While this one would have liked to go into pleasantries with its friend, time pressed. “This one guesses you know something of this one's plight?”

Platinum grimaced as she closed the door behind us, giving us magically protected privacy. “Kind of hard to miss the ongoing gang wars. From everything I’ve heard, your lieutenants have been causing quite a bit of trouble around town.”

“What do you know about it?” This one was desperate for any intel it could get by this point. “From the sounds of things, this one's lieutenants just started fighting one another suddenly sometime after it left.”

Platinum shrugged. “I can't really say what the immediate cause of your organization's collapse was, but that's not important anyway.”

This one’s brow furrowed. This hadn’t been the turn this one had expected for the conversation. “What do you mean? Considering this one needs to clean up this mess, it seems pretty damn important to it.”

“I say this as a friend: if it wasn't one thing, it would've been another that tore your organization apart. You were setting yourself up for trouble sooner or later.” She leaned against her desk as she folded her arms over her chest. “In the end, it all boils down to simple entropy. Answer me this, what holds your organization together when you're not there?”

This one frowned as it guessed the direction this conversation was going. “This one thought mutual profit, protection, and the knowledge that this one would eventually return would help with that.”

Platinum sighed and shook her head. “Mutual profit only works as long as nobody thinks they can profit more by backstabbing. As far as you coming back ... there are ways around that.” She ran a talon across her throat. “At the end of the day, the only thing holding your group together is you, and you aren’t going to be around forever. Even if you live to be an old, old changeling, sooner or later, the inevitable will happen.”

This one didn’t like the judgment she had laid out, but this one didn’t have a strong argument against it. These were problems that had been plaguing this one’s thoughts for some time. That only increased this one’s frustrations. This one didn’t like conundrums that it couldn’t find an acceptable solution to.

“What else was this one to do?” This one’s ear twitched. “This one thought it'd gotten all of them to work together nicely and gave them good reasons to work together, but it all fell apart the minute this one wasn't around to ride herd.”

“The problem is that your organization was never anything more than your organization.” Platinum poked a talon between this one’s eyes. “It doesn’t even have a name other than its relationship to you. It never meant anything beyond mutual profit.”

This one let out a huff. “Little hard to build a criminal empire on anything more than mutual profit.”

“And criminal empires aren't known for lasting,” Platinum pointed out.

“No, they aren't.” This one plopped down on a cushion and shook its head. “This one has to wonder how badly it has erred when it looks at this whole mess. Becoming some sort of crime boss sure feels like a mistake right now.”

“So why did you?”

After thinking it over, this one decided to be honest. “When this one finally got to return from exile, this one decided the best way to reestablish itself in Freeport was to become an information broker. That involved spinning webs all over the place, including into the criminal underworld. While spreading its web of contacts and informers, this one found its influence spread as well. Especially when ... do you remember old Brickwall?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he was pretty notorious for all he got up to back in the day. He had a hoof in just about every criminal racket there was in Freeport. I take it the fact his sudden and mysterious disappearance isn’t a coincidence when your own organization got started up at the same time?”

“That’s certainly a good guess.” This one took a deep breath. “The thing with Brickwall suddenly disappearing was that it created a vacuum, and power vacuums are dangerous. So... this one filled the void to keep from making a problem worse than it created, or at least part of the void. There were parts of Brickwall’s business this one didn’t want any part of, and others picked up where he left off. Next thing this one knew, it was running its own criminal organization. It even allowed this one to gather even more information than it had previously. So it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“The problem being you built a new home on a foundation of sand.”

“It certainly looks like it now.” This one rubbed the side of its brow. “This one had thought it was making all the right moves: carefully building up its influence, its wealth, the size and power of its organization...”

“It was a smart move.” A slight grin showed on her beak. “You just got tripped up by the fact that you don't want to be a crime lord.”

“So it seems.”

This one sighed and nodded. She was right; this one had never been entirely comfortable with being a crime lord. Sure, it let this one do some good and made it easier to gain information, but it wasn’t what this one wanted to be doing. This one hadn’t even been working that hard to build it up after the initial rush of work in establishing itself. Most of the money this one made from its organization went to its more legitimate businesses to expand in that direction, but gradual growth and the odd advantageous opportunity for an aggressive takeover here and there added up after a few years.

Perhaps it was simple nostalgia, but this one missed its days back in the Masks. This one dearly missed its adventures with the Do-mare, for that matter. This one even liked being an information broker and problem-solver. But how to move forward?

This one stood up and looked out at the rain drenched streets. “This one might need to rethink things. Its organization seems like it's unworkable, at least without some significant changes.”

Platinum moved to stand next to this one, also looking outside. “Right, you don’t want a mess like this to be your legacy.” She placed a claw on this one’s shoulder. “Legacies are the most important thing we can make.”

This one sensed that this was something she really wanted to talk about. Perhaps the point she wanted to get to from the start? “You know something about that, do you?”

Platinum waved a claw to encompass the room full of trophies. “Yes. Legacy is part of what separates the Free Companions from petty criminal organizations and the merc companies that don’t survive the passage of time. We might seek profit, but that isn’t all we fight for. We have a greater purpose we also strive for. We seek to preserve our legacy, what it means to be companions and be a part of the Free Companions. We have history, a legacy we’ve been given to pass on to those that come after us.”

“Whereas this one’s organization does not.” This one frowned as it chewed that over amidst the trophies gathered around us. One could dismiss them as so many glittering trinkets gathered by a group of magpies, but the objects gathered around this one were more than that. They were part of a legacy that went back centuries. The Companions fought for more than just coin.

This one’s eyes drifted to a glass case featuring a replica of Torch’s armor and his sword, Chainbreaker. “Given all this talk of legacy, this one can’t help but remember that your family has been a part of the Free Companions for quite some time.”

Platinum grinned widely. “Since Torch’s Rebellion. I’ve got the genealogical family tree to show it. I basically grew up with a blade in my claw. Part of why they put me in charge of the company.” She waggled her eyebrows. “In addition to my devilish good looks, naturally, but I cheat on that front.”

“Use what you’ve got,” this one said. “That is what this one does every day.”

“So have I given you something to think about?” She poked this one’s side. “You’re a smart guy, Puzzle, and I like you. So I’d hate for your legacy to be something you wouldn’t want it to be. I think you can do better.”

What was the legacy this one wanted to leave? This one had its goals certainly, but after how things went in Northmarch and everything after its return to Freeport, this one couldn’t help but reflect on its mortality. There was a chance this one would never live long enough to complete its goals. Taking those facts into account, this one had to consider how its work would be carried on—what its ultimate legacy would be. Leaving behind nothing more than chaos in the streets certainly wouldn’t do. No, this one wanted to leave something far grander behind in its wake.

This one turned from the window. “This one needs to get back control of its organization. No sense making long term plans if the Council decides this one is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Good point.” Platinum’s eyes flicked away from this one before refocusing on it. “Be careful. You might have a friend on the Council, but you've got enemies too.”

‘A’ friend? That was a curious statement. “So this one is aware. More than one member of the Council would prefer if this one were disposed of. Which is why this one is here: this one wants to hire backup. It's too vulnerable alone against the rest of its organization. Some muscle would go a long way to help with that imbalance on the scales.”

“What do you have planned? No offense, but I like to know what I’m sending my fellow Companions into before signing a contract. I trust you, but trust is best verified.” Platinum grinned. “Not to mention we need you alive to pay us. I do so hate a client who makes it difficult to keep them breathing.”

It seemed best to tell her at least some of what this one was going to do. It would show a measure of trust toward her and help her decide which bodyguards to give this one. “This one can assure you, it very much wants to keep breathing. This one is already formulating a plan for how to bring its organization back under control. Right now there are two things this one wants to do.” This one ruffled through its bags and pulled out a copper dragonfly inside of a small bottle. “First, this will take a message to the Alya-mare. It's bonded to her and this one has a passphrase that will tell her that it's this one. This one will write a letter saying it wants to meet with her in a neutral location.”

Platinum rubbed her chin. “Risky. If you meet with Alya, there’s a chance you might get drawn into an ambush. But if you want to salvage anything, you'll have to get them to start following orders again.”

This one didn’t voice what the alternative would have to be if they weren’t willing to go back to following this one’s instructions.

“You’re right about this being risky, but we don't have all the time in the world,” this one said. “Sooner or later the Council will lose its patience, or some other faction will move in. We're going to need to take some risks to get anywhere. This one has known the Alya-mare the longest, so she’s the best choice to approach first.”

“Makes sense. And you mentioned there was something else you wanted to do?”

This one pulled out some ink and a pen to start writing its message. “While we wait for the Alya-mare's response, this one wanted to head to the condottieri barracks. An assassin attacked this one at the docks when it got back to Freeport. He's now being held there, as well as some of Blackwing's agents that caused this one some trouble earlier. This one would like to ask them some questions, as well as see if the condottieri know anything about this one's office being burned down or the Penny-mare's kidnapping. With some luck, this one will get a lead or several to follow up on.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Platinum sat behind her desk and pulled out some forms. “Now then, how about we get to the hard numbers and work out the details of this contract?”

This one headed into the condottieri barracks with a squad of Free Companions around it. With their permission, this one also wore the same colorful striped baggy clothes as they did. This one had even painted its normally black scale mail armor white to aid in the disguise. This one had transformed into a rough-looking unicorn stallion to complete the disguise.

We had decided that this one being disguised as a Free Companion was the best way for this one to move about town. Considering there were Companions all about the city, it would be quite difficult to tell which one of them was this one. Even if someone who wished this one ill knew this one was disguised as a Companion, only the most reckless would attack random members of a mercenary company in the hopes that they were actually attacking this one. There were some risks to the strategy—someone might very well be stupid enough to risk that kind of retaliation, but overall we considered the benefits of the disguise to be worth the risk.

Sergeant Straight Arrow was at the head of this one’s guard. As brightly dressed as any Companion, the pegasus stallion had a turquoise coat and a short-cropped white-and-sky-blue striped mane. He seemed like a competent soldier, bearing his weapon like someone who knew how to use it, even if he was perhaps not a great talker. But this one could see in his eyes that he’d seen his fair share of fights.

With this one transformed into a rough-looking unicorn stallion and everyone donning identical grey cloaks to guard against the rain, it approached the receptionist desk. The pegasus behind the desk was in a condottieri uniform and looked bored as he dealt with the bane of guards all around the world: paperwork. This one cleared its throat as it approached to get his attention. “We're here to interrogate the assassin who was arrested earlier today at the docks.”

He looked up from the form as though this one were a mere irritation. “And you are?”

“Puzzle Piece.”

This one’s name caused his eyebrow to rise. “If you’ll give me a couple of minutes, sir.”

“Of course.” This one let him go, even if there was something about the way he said and moved in a slightly stilted manner that unsettled this one a bit. Had this one’s reputation within the condottieri fallen so much? It wouldn’t be all that surprising if the battle between the organization’s lieutenants were causing them undue trouble.

After waiting a few minutes within the barrack’s lobby, a door opened and a short pink pegasus mare made her way towards this one with a determined step. This one turned to face her, and she shot this one a disapproving glower as she ran a toothpick along her lips. “You Puzzle Piece?”

This one nodded as it did its best to sound cordial. “I am.”

“I’m Detective Gazing Gander.” She tossed her dual-blue mane to get it out of her eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn't arrest your plot right here and now?”

Well, this conversation was starting in a wonderful direction. “Because I haven't broken the law.”

The Gander-mare scoffed. “Do I look stupid to you, Puzzle?”

“No.”

“Then why're you trying to give me such a stupid lie?”

This one raised its eyebrows. “What laws have I broken then?”

“From what I've heard: murder, larceny, robbery, theft, assault, arson, battery, smuggling, and tax fraud.” The detective’s eyes narrowed. “Shall I go on?”

This one was indeed technically guilty of a great many crimes, but this one was hardly going to admit them right here in the middle of the condottieri barracks in front of everyone.

This one met her steely gaze with its own. “Those are serious accusations, Detective. I would be very offended if you said things like that about me without any evidence to substantiate the claim.”

The Gander-mare rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, so offended, I’m sure. You’re just a big softie who breaks down sobbing whenever his feelings are hurt and needs a good hug to feel better. Please. You're lucky to have friends in high places and very well-paid lawyers, or I would have busted you years ago.”

“Careful Detective,” this one said. “You wouldn't want to get in trouble for slander.”

The Gander-mare let out a short bark of a laugh. “You have to prove that I've caused you financial damage for that to stick and we both know it. Unless I go gabbing to the press about unsubstantiated reports about what you’ve done, you don’t have anything on me where a court’s concerned.”

This one wondered why the detective was pressing it in such a hostile manner. Was she trying to rattle this one? Blow off some steam over being unable to touch this one? Something else entirely? Despite her threat, she wasn’t in that much of a rush to put this one in chains and march it to the nearest cell. But then, this one did have very good lawyers. This one had seen the inside of a prison cell more than once, but nothing serious had ever come of it.

She probably knew it. “Are you sure you want to continue down this road instead of accomplishing something more productive?” this one asked. “While you might find this amusing, I’m very busy and don’t have time to waste.”

The detective ran her toothpick over her lips as she thought. “Fine, so tell me why you're here.”

“Someone tried to kill me,” this one said. “Naturally, this one has a personal investment in knowing why.”

The Gander-mare grunted. “Then I’m sorry to tell you that you’re not going to have much luck talking to your assassin. Or the thugs you beat into the dirt, for that matter.”

“And why is that?”

The Gander-mare watched this one carefully as she spoke with slow deliberation. “Because they’re dead. All of them.”

For the briest moment, this one thought the detective must have been playing with this one, yanking its chain to see how it’d react. But no, this one could see in her eyes she was serious. “What happened?”

“You're the information broker. Didn't you know that they all fell over dead during dinner?”

This one shook its head. “No, I hadn't heard about it yet.” This one probably wouldn’t have wasted its time coming here if it had known, at least if it knew the circumstances for how they had died, which this one very much wanted to know.

“Well they did.” Her wings flickered. “And the way I see it, you're the uniting link between all of them. You tasseled with all of them, and then a few hours later they all end up dead on their cell floors. Can't say that's a coincidence.”

Ah, she thought this one might have killed them. Time to disabuse her of the notion. “I'm not interested in the tools as much as the one who wields them. You don’t win the game by taking pawns—you win it by taking the king. These pawns had been isolated and taken out of the game. What’s more, I wanted to talk with them to find out what they knew. Doesn't it seem more likely that whoever hired them killed them off so they wouldn't talk?”

The Gander-mare crossed her arms over her chest. “Another reason why I haven't busted you yet. It'd be awful dumb of you to show up here if you'd had them killed. You may be scum, but you don’t seem like the type of scum to gloat stupidly.”

This one ignored her proddings. “How did they die?”

“Follow me.” The Gander-mare turned, but then stopped to point at the Companions. “Leave them behind, I don’t need them messing around where they’re not supposed to be.”

Sergeant Arrow looked to this one, and this one nodded for him to follow her directions. Sure, this might be a gambit on the detective’s part to arrest this one, but it doubted she was the type to go through such theatrics. This one had literally just walked into the condottieri barracks. She could have brought the whole place down on this one’s head if she really wanted to. There really wasn’t a need to draw this one further into the belly of the beast and risk this one sensing something was wrong and running for it.

The detective led this one to the coroner's office. It was a simple arrangement, cold and professional with its desk, tools of the trade, and coolers intended to keep corpses preserved. The Gander-mare shot this one a suspicious glower. “The coroner hasn't had a chance to properly process the bodies yet, so don’t touch anything or I will bust you for it. Got it?”

“Don't worry, I'll follow the rules,” this one assured her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been here.” Indeed, as Freeport’s foremost information broker, this one had sold its services to the condottieri many times. It was among the reasons why the condottieri generally never bothered this one.

The Gander-mare led this one to a table where the assassin from the docks was now lying. “Do you know who this guy is?”

This one looked him over. This one was pretty sure it knew who it was back at the docks, but between the rain and the adrenaline this one’s brain might have been muddled. But one good look at the corpse confirmed this one’s initial identification. “A killer for hire. Goes by the name of Pyrolash.”

“There’s a stupid name for you.” The Gander-mare frowned down at the corpse. “Guess he wasn't very good at his job.”

“He's good at his job, but not good enough for me. Plus he had other things working against him.” This one pointed to his leg, the one where there was the telltale scarring from surgery. “He had a bad knee. Probably broke it during a fight or an accident. In truth, he was getting old for his line of work. By his age, most killers for hire retire and use the money they’ve collected to start a small business to carry them through their later years or else take up apprentices to do all the running around suited for the young. Pyrolash liked his vices a bit too much—the type of vices that eat up money.”

“And then he took a job to kill little old you. Thanks for saving me the trouble of figuring out who our Doe is.” The Gander-mare picked up a file next to the desk and started scanning its contents. “Preliminary report says this guy probably died from poison. You're pretty familiar with those, right? All these guys got the same meal—vegetable soup and crackers, and they suddenly collapsed as their throats swelled up and then killed them through suffocation. A spell showed the soup to be poisoned.”

This one looked the corpse over, careful not to touch it and attract the detective’s ire. “Widowmaker, most likely. Nasty way to die. It’s an ingestion poison, one that swells up the throat and balloons the whole esophagus. Once the symptoms show, it's too late.”

“Gathered as much.” The Gander-mare grimaced as she looked down at the coroner’s report. “The barrack nurses couldn’t do anything for them once they got to their cells. Someone really wanted them dead.”

“This one would say so.” This one shook its head, frustration growing as its investigation hit another dead end. “Widowmaker isn’t a cheap poison, it requires the work of a master alchemist to make.”

The Gander-mare’s eyes narrowed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your mom a master alchemist?”

This one scowled at her as its patience started to run out. This one had a high tolerance for suspicion being cast in its direction, but insinuating this one’s mother was involved in a criminal activity... “My mom is a legitimate businessmare. Also, she’s retired. But even when she worked, she didn’t deal in poisons.”

Besides, there was quite the list of alchemists who had the skill to make such a poison. The Alya-mare could have made some, and she could have sold it to any of this one’s lieutenants before their falling out. They could have bought it from other parties as well, or any number of this one’s enemies.

“So you say.” The detective snapped the folder close. “So if you didn't kill them, who did?”

“Considering how they were poisoned, it must have been someone on your staff,” this one pointed out. “Probably either a cook or one of the guards.”

“They’re the only ones who even got their hooves on the food trays,” she conceded. “I’ve grilled them all, but nobody’s cracking.” Her wings flittered with irritation. “I can’t keep the entire kitchen staff in a cell forever, and I’m not winning any friends within the condottieri by asking pointed questions about if any of them were involved in a murder.”

This one sensed it had a grasp on the reason for the Gander-mare’s irritability. She was clearly on this case, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Four prisoners were dead within the barrack’s jail, and that had the makings of a scandal. It might blow over if none of the four dead prisoners had anyone to push the issue for how and why they died, but the papers—always desperate for a juicy story—might very well seize upon another chance to embarrass the condottieri to sell more prints. Things would be all the worse if they couldn’t figure out who was responsible. Add to that the trouble this one was causing them with its organization...

“This one doubts you’ll get whoever is responsible to confess despite whatever pressure you put on them,” this one said. “Not unless you’ve got solid proof they did it. Most likely you’re dealing with a professional. They’ll know how to do their job without getting caught, and how to deal with being interrogated. In addition to doing dirty deeds for their employer, they’re probably spying on the condottieri.”

“Well you've just made my day,” she grumbled.

“Considering someone tried to kill me, I think my day's worse.”

“Everypony just has to brag about how they have it worse than everybody else,” the Gander-mare grumbled again, her ears twitching. “Okay, I’ll do what I can here to figure out who did this, but I want to nab whoever is responsible for all of this. I’m not talking about the tool used to do the deed, I mean who put out the order to kill four individuals within the condottieri’s very own barracks and right under our noses.”

“That's what I would like to find out too.” This one crossed its arms as it thought. “It would need to be someone with resources—someone who could set up a spy within the condottieri and keep them in place. Recruiting someone already within the condottieri would have been ideal, considering they would have passed any inspection before being subverted. Then the poison itself would have cost money, something I doubt a guard’s salary could easily pay for. What’s more, they had a system in place where they could quickly contact their agent and get them to poison these people before I could question them.”

“So, do you have any names to go with all those fancy facts?” the Gander-mare groused.

“No,” this one lied. It had at least some ideas for who might be behind this, but it wasn’t about to list them in front of her. Considering any one of this one’s lieutenants could be wrapped up in this, it didn’t seem wise to mention them considering the detective was obviously inclined to arrest this one for working with them. Not to mention everyone else on that list were the type of people with the sort of power, wealth, and influence that made it precarious to level accusations, especially without solid evidence to back up those claims.

The detective let out a huff. “A whole lot of good you’ve been then. Anything actually helpful to add?”

“I'll look into it from my end,” this one said. “There are some other leads I can follow.”

She frowned. “And are you going to tell me what you find?”

“We'll see.” Considering how things were going, this one probably wasn’t going to be working closely with the Gander-mare. No sense getting this one in more trouble than it was already in, after all. Pulling this one’s organization back together was going to be difficult enough as it was without getting thrown into a cell.

The Gander-mare crossed her arms. “So never, then. Typical.”

While this one could sympathize with her frustrations, this one already had more than enough of its own to deal with, so it concentrated on more pragmatic issues. “I don't suppose you can tell me anything about my office burning down or my secretary's whereabouts?”

The detective fixed this one with a sour glower. “Why should I help you?”

“First, because my property was burned down, which is a crime,” this one said. “Second and more importantly, my secretary Merry Penny was kidnapped. If I have a lead, I might be able to find her.”

She stared at this one for a long moment. “You know what the chances are of finding someone alive after twenty-four hours after a kidnapping? It’s been way more than that since she went missing.”

This one squared its jaw. “Yes, I’m aware. But I’m still going to try.” And if something had been done to the Penny-mare, then this one was going to make those responsible very much regret it.

The Gander-mare let out a long breath. “Okay, fine, follow me. I wasn't on that case, but I can pull out the file for it.”

“Thank you.”

Once we reached the file room, the Gander-mare held up a hoof to stop this one. “Give me a few minutes. Only staff can pull files.”

“That’s fine, I can wait.” This one took a seat at a desk and picked up a newspaper someone had left there. There was a general hum of activity in the room, mainly members of the condottieri, along with some lawyers coming in and out on business.

It wasn’t too long before the Gander-mare returned, and judging by her deep scowl she was even less happy than when she’d left. “The file's gone.”

This one raised an eyebrow. “Gone?”

“Like I said, it’s gone—not here, disappeared.” The Gander-mare stomped a hoof in frustration. “I went looking for it, but it's not where it's supposed to be. I checked the whole damn filing cabinet to make sure it wasn't misplaced, but there’s nothing.”

This one stroked its cheek as it considered the implications of that. “That's ... inconvenient.”

The detective growled. “This stinks. I smell a rot, and it's right here within the condottieri. I'm getting the feeling someone's trying really hard to keep you in the dark. It seems you have some enemies in high places in addition to friends.”

This one was growing tired of this really quickly. This trip to the barracks should have given this one a wealth of information, but instead it was only getting trickles of anything useful, and a whole bunch of new questions. There was a conspiracy in the works against this one. The only question was who was at the bottom of it and how to stop them.

“What about the detective that was on this case?” this one asked. “Can we talk to him about the arson and kidnapping?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s not in town.” A deep frown tugged at her lips. “He won a contest for an all-expense paid, month-long vacation to Westmarch. Funny thing now that I think about it, he mentioned he hadn’t even remembered entering the contest. Not that he was about to tell whoever was running things they’d made a mistake. But now I’m thinking this wasn’t some funny little coincidence.”

“Coincidences can happen, but I’ve learned not to trust them,” this one said. “Especially not given the circumstances.”

“So what’s next for you?” the Gander-mare asked. “Sounds like the both of us are in a hole.”

This one stood from the desk and stretched. “I intend to get my organization back under control.”

“Seems like it’s a whole lot more trouble than it’s worth. But I guess you just can’t say no to the money, no matter the trouble it causes you and everyone else.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, I've heard the argument before you can get on your high horse. Organized crime is better than anarchy on the streets, but the lesser of two evils is still evil.”

This one let out an exasperated sigh. “Well now you have anarchy. How do you like it?”

The detective turned her head to the side as she replied. “How should any decent pony feel about people dying in the street? And what about you? Don't people like you ever feel like you're just a part of the problem? Doesn’t it bother you that you’re just making everything worse over time?”

“Freeport's not a nice place,” this one said. “If you want to survive and climb your way to the top of the pile, sometimes you have to get your hooves a little dirty. And mine are still cleaner than those of all the rivals I've taken down.”

The Gander-mare’s ear twitched. “Yeah, you're a real saint with your hooves covered in blood.” She turned her back to this one and started to walk away. “Better get hopping. From what I hear, the Council's being patient with you. But we both know how the Council's patience doesn't last forever.”

“Yes, we do.” This one started to follow her out of the file room. “Though one thing: I recommend you drop this case.”

Her head snapped in this one’s direction. “Excuse me? Is that some sort of threat?”

This one shook its head. “No, it’s a warning. Someone very badly wants to keep me in the dark about what’s happening in Freeport, and they’re willing to kill to make sure they get their way. If you dig too deep into this, they might decide you’re a loose end that needs to be cut.”

While the Gander-mare might have been irritable towards this one at best, it didn’t wish her harm. But this one had a feeling whoever was on the other team wasn’t going to let moral considerations stop them from achieving their goals. There were too many dead bodies for this one to think otherwise.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” it assured her. “But whoever is behind this is playing hardball, and I’d prefer if you didn’t get yourself or anyone you’re working with killed accomplishing nothing. What's more, they’re in the midst of the condottieri itself.” This one nodded at a coffee pot as we passed. “Keep in mind that they know what you eat and drink, and exactly how our assassin died.”

Detective Gazing Gander didn’t have a ready answer for that.

“So how did it go?” Sergeant Arrow asked as we departed the barracks.

This one pulled up the hood of its cloak to guard against the rain. The sun was setting, and the fading light only added to the gloom hugging the streets. “Not nearly as well as this one hoped.”

We moved to where a roof overhang saved us from the worst of the rain, and this one explained the basics of what it found out. This one was just getting to the part about the missing documents involving the Penny-mare when a bronze dragonfly messenger flew into its vision. It landed on this one’s upraised hoof, and then this one withdrew the message tube it was carrying. Carefully in case it was trapped, this one removed the small scroll within and then read it.

“Anything good?” the Arrow-stallion asked.

“Potentially,” this one said as it reread the message. “The Alya-mare wants to meet with this one.”

Knives in the Night

“Seems innocent enough.” The Arrow-stallion drew his cloak tighter as the rain battered away at us on the Freeport streets. An arc of lightning on the horizon briefly lit the street as we stood opposite the restaurant the Alya-mare had designated as our meeting point. Siri’s Special Surprise was a Zebrican-style restaurant, its brightly colored sign with flowing script promised warm food in a family-friendly restaurant. The Alya-mare and this one had eaten there on several occasions. Whether this was a good sign this one wasn’t entirely sure yet.

“So it does. Still, I think we both know better than to trust appearances.” This one looked up and down the street for dangers. The sun had set by now, and between the late hour and continual downpour, the area was nearly deserted.

“Plenty of ways to get killed while sitting down for a friendly meal,” the Arrow-stallion remarked.

“Exactly.” This one shot him a sideways grin. “I hope you can help keep an eye out for most of them.”

“This isn't my first guarding job.” The Companions sergeant tightened his grip on his halberd and also eyed the streets for lurking threats. “I'm thinking of leaving someone outside to keep an eye on things just in case. The rest of the squad should come inside in case things get dicey.”

“You know what you're doing, I won't micromanage.” This one moved to cross the street. “Just keep me alive long enough to pay you.”

“Oh, I plan on doing just that.” The Arrow-stallion gave some quick instructions to a member of his squad to stay on lookout before giving this one a grin. “The bonus for keeping you alive is going to pay off my mortgage with money to spare.”

“Glad to hear it.” You got what you paid for, and this one very much wanted to stay alive. Given the dangers presented to this one’s life, it seemed wisest to make sure this one’s mercenary bodyguards stayed put to do their job. As mercs were fond of saying, you can’t get paid if you’re dead, and the prospect of likely death was the second most common cause for a merc to abandon a client. The last thing this one wanted to happen was for its guard to suddenly decide the dangers for keeping this one alive weren’t worth the risk, and so it had offered a generous bonus for those that saw the job through to the end.

When we got across the street, the Arrow-stallion stopped this one with a hoof on the shoulder. “You sure we can trust this zebra you're about to meet? You said you’ve known her for a long time, but... Let’s just say I’ve seen people get funny where things like money are concerned. Money can tear even families apart. One of the nastiest scuffles I got into was when everyone decided to throw down during a funeral over the will.” He pointed to a scar on his cheek that was partially obscured by his plumbed helmet. “She might have been your friend, but friends can make for the worst enemies.”

This one was slow in answering. “A few months ago I wouldn't have had any doubt. Now? I'm not sure trust is a luxury I can still afford, but let's not start anything unless she does.”

The Arrow-stallion nodded. “Right. So be cautious, but don't start cracking skulls until we have good reasons?”

“Exactly.” This one wanted to give the Alya-mare an opportunity to explain things. At the very least this one might get some intel on what was going on with its organization, but talks like these could become very tense. A lack of trust could make even the most innocent of actions or words come across as sinister or insulting. But regaining control of this one’s organization would go much smoother if the Alya-mare cooperated with the process. We had known each other for years, had a good working relationship and mutually benefited from each other. Hay, we were friends, even. Hopefully those things would carry through to the end.

This one took a breath before opening the door. “Come on, let’s get out of the rain.”

This one briefly lamented that the Heartstrings-mare wasn’t here. Doubtless she would have made some off-color joke about being wet, and that might have brought some badly needed levity. Not to mention it would have been nice to have someone whom this one trusted to watch its back. But she was many miles away right then, and this one had a job to do.

The restaurant was a nice and inviting, its decor warm and bright with red, orange, and yellow drapes, pictures of Zebrica’s plains and cities, and floral arrangements. It was nearly abandoned due to the late hour and rainy weather, but after quickly scanning the area for any nasty surprises, this one’s eyes were mostly focused on the mare sitting at a table in one of the corners. This one approached her with its guards in tow.

The Alya-mare had seen better days. There were heavy bags under her eyes, and the left side of her face was marred by a nasty-looking bruise that was only half-healed, and her right foreleg was bandaged up. There were also a couple of new wrinkles on her face this one didn’t remember. Four guards stood around her as she got up from the table and there was a hard, wary look behind her eyes as she watched this one approach.

“Alya,” this one said, keeping its tone formal. “It seems things got rather interesting while I was away.”

“You can say that.” She frowned at this one. “Is it really you?”

This one couldn’t blame her for being cautious. This one was far from the only shapeshifter in Freeport, and this one wasn’t in one of its typical disguises. What’s more, between all the weapons, armor, wands, gems, and talismans this one was wearing, it was equipped like it was going to fight a war.

“It is.” This one gave her the passphrase we shared to tell her it was indeed who it said it was.

The Alya-mare returned with her own half of the passphrase and let out a relieved sigh. “Good, it is you. I was worried.” She sat down at her table where some food had already been served, and some of the tension left her body—but only some.

This one sat opposite her and placed down a runic stone that it activated. There was a brief shimmer in the air as we gained a measure of privacy from its magic. “So what happened?

The Alya-mare stared at her soup as she slowly stirred it. “Even today I’m not entirely sure. Everything was going okay for a couple of weeks after you left, and then we had one of our regularly scheduled meetings. I got worried when Blackwing and Gustav didn't show, so I got out of there—only to run into Gustav and his soldiers getting ready to ambush the meeting spot. I barely got out of the net alive.” She rubbed her shoulder, still not looking up at this one. “Next thing I knew, Blackwing and Gustav were attacking all our businesses, the ... extralegal ones, anyways, along with my legal businesses. They just started trying to take everything over or, more often than not, burn them all down. The only good news is that they’ve largely left your legitimate businesses alone.”

“Probably because that’d be much more likely to bring the condottieri down on their heads. Some dirty dealings in the underworld is acceptable as long as it doesn’t cause too much trouble for everyone else, but attacking bakeries or merchants is something else entirely.”

“Right.” The Alya-mare’s ears flattened. “Though they’ve really put me through the wringer. Even my bank accounts have been shut down.”

This one’s head tilted. “How did they manage that?”

The Alya-mare rubbed one of her eyes as her fatigue showed itself. “I’m not sure. In the middle of everything falling apart, I got a message saying that my accounts had been selected as part of a random governmental audit and irregularities had been found that resulted in them being locked, pending investigation. That really hurt my ability to fight this street war. If I had access to all the funds I could have hired enough mercenaries to take the fight to Gustav, and buy the services of those with the specialized skills needed to hunt down and deal with Blackwing. Instead I got hobbled right out the gate.”

“Money does make everything easier.” This one would bet a million ducats that the Alya-mare’s bank accounts being shut down by the government wasn’t a coincidence. No, this was all part of a much larger game.

But why had the Alya-mare been targeted? Was it because she was close to this one, or was there another reason? Had this one’s other lieutenants been similarly targeted? Most importantly, who had managed to trigger the audit to start with? This one didn’t think the Gustav-gryph had the resources to pull something like that off. Blackwing might if he managed to convince the right officials to do as he wanted, but it wasn’t really his style. Though considering the assassin this one had attacked, and everything it had found out in the condottieri barracks, this one was starting to think a bigger player was pulling the strings.

This one frowned as it digested this information, being careful to listen both to what she was—and wasn’t—saying. “So they both turned on you with no warning or provocation?”

She shook her head. “None that I detected. Everything seemed fine before it all suddenly exploded. I can only imagine they were planning this for some time, given how suddenly they turned on me and how quick they were to start undermining my end of the organization.”

“Are the two of them working together then?”

“No.” The Alya-mare frowned deeply. “They’re definitely fighting one another, in their own ways. Gustav's been like a bull in a glass shop, and he's done a lot of damage to our money making operations. It's been a struggle to hold his mercs off. Blackwing, big surprise, is playing clever. He’s only attacking in times and places of his choosing—little pokes and cuts to slowly bleed the both of us like setting businesses on fire and assassinating specific targets. All while protecting his people and assets and keeping everything secret from us. I don’t even know where he’s operating out of these days. He isn’t holding any ground, but keeps bleeding us every time we try and hold anything valuable.”

This one rubbed its chin. “Still, that's odd. They had to know I would be coming back, especially as things dragged out for months.”

The Alya-mare shrugged. “I don't know what is going on in their heads. I've tried to form parleys with both of them, but I've gotten nowhere. They’ve just refused to come to the table and talk. Gustav wants me to surrender unconditionally, and Blackwing ... well I don’t even know what he wants. Either my emissaries can’t find him or they never come back at all.”

“Perhaps they would be willing to talk with me. My return to Freeport does change the equation.” Not to mention the Alya-mare might be lying or coloring the facts. Little surprise, she would want this one to go after her opponents whatever the truth might be for how everything started. Preferably, this one would get the opportunity to talk with both of its wayward lieutenants. They might have very different stories to tell than the Alya-mare. This one hated to think that about the Alya-mare, that she might be trying to manipulate and trick this one, but this one couldn’t let its personal feelings cloud its vision.

“You can try, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” The Alya-mare dropped her spoon, having lost her appetite. “They’re not exactly going to be trustworthy after all they’ve pulled.”

“It’s worth a shot,” this one said. “And even if it doesn’t work, this one can at least gauge what each of them is thinking. Options open up if you know where their thought processes are and how their organizations are doing.”

“True.” The Alya-mare rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “The good news is that they should be worn down by all the fighting. Maybe they’ll be willing to come to the table.”

“We’ll see.” this one leaned forward in its seat. “Speaking of the fighting, this one wanted to ask about its office and what happened to the Penny-mare.” In addition to personal reasons, this one wanted to get the Penny-mare back because she knew several things this one didn’t want just anyone to know.

The Alya-mare’s ears perked and she spoke with a slow and deliberate tone. “What have you found out thus far? The rumor mill says that she was captured at the same time your office got burned down.”

“Not as much as this one would like,” this one said, carefully reading her reaction. “It would seem someone kidnapped the Penny-mare. This one would like to confirm who did it and get her back.”

“Do you have any leads on where to find her?”

“This one is working on it. Though it was rather curious—”

The Arrow-stallion interrupted this one as he stared at a red gem that was now glowing. “Sir, we've got a problem.”

This one glanced at him out of the corner of its eye and felt a growing sense of unease. “What is it?”

“The guard outside is signaling that trouble is on the way.” The Arrow-stallion nodded to his fellow guards, who were now warily looking at the entrances to the restaurant. The Alya-mare was also quickly tossing on her bag, her own guards also glancing everywhere for potential threats.

This one stood from its seat. “What sort of trouble?”

Shattering windows answered the question for him. Armored individuals poked their crossbows through the broken windows and aimed. Not being the first time this had happened to this one, it flipped over the table it had just been sitting at and dived behind it. The Alya-mare joined it not a second later as we heard the thwang of crossbows firing. Bolts thumped into and partially penetrated the table. Most everyone else had taken cover as well, but one of the Alya-mare’s guards was too slow in reacting and paid for it when a bolt slammed into his shoulder, causing him to fall to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Damnit, not again.” The Alya-mare pulled a bottle from a bandolier, stood, and tossed it before quickly dropping back down again. Before the crossbow wielders could reload their weapons, the bottle flew through a window, and an explosion rocked the building, blowing smoke and debris all over the place.

This one hazarded a glance and saw that the crossbowmen were no longer there. “This one thinks you got—”

Having spoken too soon, the door exploded inwards. The cause of the destruction made itself apparent as a minotaur wearing a set of full-plate armor and wielding a warhammer ducked under the doorway and strode forward with smooth and confident strides.

“Well that’s a bother.” This one hurled a spike at the minotaur’s face, but he almost contemptuously raised an armored arm, and the spike plinked off of it.

The bodyguards weren’t slow to respond to this new threat. They spread out as best as they could given the confining nature of the restaurant with its tables and booths, their weapons raised. If the minotaur was intimidated by the mercenaries and bodyguards, he didn’t show it; he strode forward, knocking a table out of the way with his warhammer and then swiping with the weapon. It connected with a meaty thump against one of the Alya-mare’s guards and sent him crashing against the wall. One of the Companions kicked a table at the minotaur, but he simply batted it aside with an armored first. The Arrow-stallion moved in on his flank to try and bring his halberd to bear, but a swipe with the warhammer forced him back.

Seeing that the bodyguards were in the middle of what was shaping up to be a difficult and potentially costly fight, this one acted to change the odds in their favor. This one pulled a wand from its side and aimed it at the floor under the minotaur’s hooves. With a word it activated, and a coat of slippery grease formed beneath the minotaur. His hooves slipped right out from under him and he crashed to the ground. The Companions didn’t waste a moment in taking advantage of their opponent’s misfortune. One pinned the minotaur’s arm down with their halberd to keep him from lifting his warhammer while the Arrow-stallion threatened his throat with the speartip of his weapon.

“Take him prisoner!” this one called out. “This one wants some answers.”

“Got it!” The Arrow-stallion kicked the minotaur’s weapon aside and worked to secure our prisoner.

For the briefest moment this one thought it was over, but then the door leading to the kitchen slammed open. Two more armored warriors moved into the restaurant, probably stationed to prevent anyone from running away. Even worse, more warriors started filing in through the front door. Thankfully, the Alya-mare had the front door covered as she tossed yet another bottle at the doorway. The resulting explosion made the reinforcements a non-factor.

The Alya-mare’s remaining guards had clustered up around her with their shields raised, a tremble running through them as they prepared to meet this new threat. That left this one to intercept the attackers from the rear. This one pulled out a baton and charged the lead attacker, a pony with a spear and shield. He jabbed at this one with short, expert thrusts, and this one’s baton slapped against the spear’s shaft multiple times as this one forced its way forward. Once this one was close enough, it slammed a hoof against the shield and sent a jolt out from its shock bracer. The attacker convulsed and fell to the ground.

His buddy, a zebra stallion, screamed and slashed at this one’s head with his sword. This one ducked, and blocked with its baton as the sword came back around. But then he caught this one off guard when he slammed his shield against this one, staggering it. He prepared to drive his sword into this one with a thrust, but the Arrow-stallion was by this one’s side. He caught the sword with his halberd and forced its point down towards the ground. This one took the opening and brought its baton down on the sword-arm of the attacker. He cried out in pain and dropped his weapon. The Arrow-stallion immediately snapped up his weapon and smacked it right up against the attacker’s jaw, stunning him and dropping him to the ground.

That attack dealt with, this one scanned the area for additional threats, but none presented themselves. The front of the restaurant was now on fire, the Companions had finished securing the minotaur prisoner while the Alya-mare and her guards saw to their casualties. The guard who’d been hit by the warhammer was dead, and the Alya-mare went about treating the guard with the crossbow bolt in his shoulder. The few customers still in the restaurant quickly made an exit, lucky to be unharmed from the bedlam that had suddenly erupted around them. The restaurant owner and her employees were in a mixture of shock and horror.

The Arrow-stallion took some deep breaths. “Nice moves, sir. I particularly liked how you slipped up the minotaur. That saved us a potential huge pain.”

“Thank you,” this one said. “I do try, and you did pretty good too.”

He nodded to the two attackers we had just disabled. “Shall we take them prisoner too?”

“Might as well,” this one said. “It’d be good to interrogate them too. If they’re just some mercs that got hired then maybe we’ll be able to ransom them back to their companies.” The intel they could give this one was the most important thing, but the promise of an additional monetary reward to this one’s bodyguards wouldn’t hurt either. Given the nature of the merc business and the fact no one could get paid if they were killed, it was common practice for mercs to surrender to their fellow mercs and then be ransomed back to their home companies rather than fight to the death. The winners got a reward for not killing their defeated foes, not to mention an easier fight, and the losers got to live—if with lighter purses.

Still, it begged the question just who these people who attacked us were and why they were here. Clearly there was someone here they didn’t like. Was it this one or the Alya-mare they were targeting, or was it both of us? This one couldn’t see anything on them to signify who they worked for. They had the look and bearing of hardened warriors, probably being mercs, but this one couldn’t prove that decisively without a bit of poking and prodding.

The Alya-mare worked on tying a bandage around her injured guard’s shoulder. “Just like the old days, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t aware the old days had ended,” this one said as it watched the Companions work on gathering our prisoners together. “It’s been more or less like this for me for quite some time.”

The Alya-mare gave her guard a potion to deal with the pain. “For me it’s the old days. There are very good reasons why I went into the business management side of things. Running around with you and Daring for a few years was fun, but I’m not cut out for this type of stuff.”

“You did pretty well just now,” this one pointed out. “You certainly gave these mercs something to think about with your alchemy.”

The Alya-mare huffed as she finished tying the bandage and stood. “Being able to take care of yourself in a rough situation isn’t the same as enjoying it.”

“That much is true.” This one wondered if the stress from fighting with Gustav and Blackwing was getting to the Alya-mare. It wouldn’t be surprising with this having gone on for months. Having to deal with this kind of stress for a prolonged period of time could affect anyone.

“We'd better get out of here.” The Alya-mare motioned to the front of the restaurant. “For one, this place is on fire. Second, I don’t want to be here long enough that we have to explain to the condottieri why it’s on fire.”

“Especially when it was technically you who set the fire.” The Alya-mare gave this one a sour look, and it added, “If for very good reasons.”

“Come on, I have a carriage outside.” She started towards the door, assisting her wounded guard with walking. “We can put the prisoners in there. I’ve got a safehouse we can go to.”

“Sounds good to me.” This one nodded the Arrow-stallion. “Bring our prisoners, we’ll sort them out at the safehouse.”

“Yes sir.” The Arrow-stallion did just that, hustling our trio of prisoners out through the back of the restaurant.

This one moved to go, but then stopped when it saw the crying owner of the restaurant, staring onwards at the fire and devastation. This one took her by the arm and pulled her up. She continued to stare blankly, not registering what was going on. “Best you get out of here too. Your insurance should help cover the damages, and I’ll make sure to cover your losses later.” This one frowned. “Sorry this happened to you.”

The owner continued to be unresponsive, so this one tugged on her to get her moving out of the restaurant before she got herself hurt. Once we were safely away, this one led her down on the street. The others were working on loading the prisoners into the Alya-mare’s carriage. The prisoners weren’t putting up too much of a fuss, defeat had a way of dampening the spirits of those defeated. Her remaining guards were tying themselves to the carriage, looking about warily for additional dangers.

The Alya-mare stepped up to enter the carriage after our prisoners, but stopped before going inside to look at this one. “You coming in?” She glanced up at the sky that continued to pour on a steady stream of water. “I can’t imagine you want to walk in the rain in the middle of the night.”

This one considered the offer before shaking its head. “I would prefer to walk, honestly. I could use the time to think, and that’s a bit easier when I’m not shoved in like sardines with a group of people that were trying to kill me a few minutes ago.”

In truth, this one didn’t wholly trust the Alya-mare yet. This one dearly hoped that it could depend on her, but too much was unknown right at the moment to say where she stood. For all this one knew, the carriage could be some sort of trap.

The Alya-mare frowned before shrugging. “Suit yourself.”

This one noted the prisoners shoved into the carriage. The minotaur was taking up half the room just by himself. Little surprise, they didn’t look like a happy lot either as they glowered at the lot of us. “You going to be okay in that carriage with them? They look like a rough crowd.”

The corner of the Alya-mare’s mouth quirked with a grin. “I’ve dealt with rough crowds before.”

“So you have.” This one had to wonder if the real reason she wanted to be in the carriage was to interrogate them. If so... well, that could mean any number of things.

“Follow us and we’ll lead you to the safe house.” The Alya-mare looked to the wounded guard, who was sitting at the front of the carriage. “Though first we’re taking a brief stop at the hospital to drop him off.”

“That’s fine,” this one said. “Lead the way.”

Lightning lit up the nighttime sky as we walked along the Freeport streets, and the rain beat down on us as the wind kicked up. After the long day this one had gone through, weariness was starting to beat down on it. The knowledge that it was probably going to be a while before it could get any true rest only made the feeling worse.

We had dropped off the wounded guard at the nearest clinic. While in a pinch we could probably have treated a bolt wound, there were plenty of ways removing an arrowhead could go very wrong. Best to leave that type of work to a fully equipped and trained staff whenever possible. After that slight delay we continued through the rain towards the Alya-mare’s safehouse. This one didn’t have to tell its bodyguards to be wary; just in the ways they gripped their weapons and looked alert for dangers, this one could tell they weren’t taking anything for granted.

We headed into the dock district and ended up in a square surrounded by warehouses and other businesses. Sitting near the shore, this place would normally have been bustling with activity, but the late hour and the rain had long driven everyone away. A statue of Torch Charger sat in the middle of the square, its features worn from the passage of time and marred by graffiti.

The Alya-mare opened the window to her carriage and leaned out. “It’s that warehouse right over there. Just follow along and I’ll tell my guard to let you inside.” Her eyes flicked to my Companion bodyguards and she spoke more quietly. “You sure about them?”

“As sure as I can be about anyone, given the circumstances.” This one looked around at the rain-soaked streets. “We signed a contract, and I trust General Platinum. We go back to before I was exiled from Freeport.”

“Right.” She huffed. “Come along then, let’s get in from the rain.”

We followed her towards the warehouse, but then something caught this one’s eye. Off to the side there was a large splash in a puddle, but there was nothing there that could have caused it—nothing that could be seen, anyway. This one turned and saw the pools of water on the street splash as though rocks were being thrown in a direct line towards us. Guessing what we were dealing with, this one reached into a small bag at its side to pull out some golden dust. This one threw the dust and it darted forward as though carried by its own wind.

The dust settled over someone under invisibility magic, revealing something vaguely equine in shape. That was charging us.

“Invisible attacker!” the Arrow-stallion cried out, and all the Companions turned to face the new threat. He jabbed with the speartip of his halberd, and there was the sharp ring of steel on steel. The illusion over the assailant fell away, revealing a changeling in scalemail as black as night. All about his body were weapons and pouches for all manner of items. He wielded a longsword that had parried the halberd, and he grinned as he faced off against us.

“So, could you all do me a favor and tell this one which one of you is Puzzle?” Blackwing asked in a mocking tone. “Not to sound specieist, but us Free Minds all look like everyone else. This one could kill you all just to be sure, but that seems a little excessive don’t you think?”

“Take him!” the Arrow-stallion ordered. He leveled his weapon on Blackwing while his fellow mercs moved to try and flank him. Blackwing wasn’t content to let them do that, however, and he skillfully skipped back and to the side. Once he managed to outflank one of the Companions, he struck forward. The Companion took a step back as they were pressed back by a flurry of strikes that they only barely managed to slap aside with their weapon. But their fellow Companions were quick to move forward to give them relief. The Arrow-stallion jabbed repeatedly with his speartip, and Blackwing deftly parried each blow to the side. The third Companion took the opening to launch the hook of her halberd at Blackwing’s leg, but Blackwing swiftly raised his hoof and slammed it down on the head of the weapon, while his sword lashed forward at the Companion’s throat. The Companion’s fellow merc she’d rescued returned the favor and deflected the blow to the side, twisting their weapon to try and tie up the blade. Blackwing swiftly withdrew his weapon just in time to parry a blow from the Arrow-stallion intended to run him through.

Having trouble concentrating on any one of the Companions, Blackwing started skipping back and to the side once again, his grin never leaving his face for a moment. “So you all want to make this difficult, do you? That’s alright, this one has all night.”

It was clear to this one his plan was to try and string out the Companions before finishing them off one by one. Each of this one’s bodyguards were skilled fighters, but already this one could tell they weren’t a match for Blackwing on even terms. Training and experience could get you far as a fighter, but Blackwing was a one-in-a-million prodigy. This one had seen to that itself and had paid for his training with some of the best martial arts teachers in Freeport. But then this one wasn’t one to fight on even terms when it could be helped.

Moving around to flank Blackwing, this one pulled out a wand, pointed, and activated it as this one’s lieutenant was about to get into another exchange with the Companions. The tanglehoof wand spat out a sticky grey substance out at Blackwing’s legs, but Blackwing had seen the attack coming and shot into the air to take flight, causing this one’s shot to miss. Blackwing had his own tricks and he threw a vial down on the ground among the Companions. Instinctively, this one threw itself to the side as a noxious green smoke exploded out when the vial shattered on the ground. Even being well outside the cloud, the smell of the alchemical mixture nearly made this one gag, and the sounds of retching could be heard from within the cloud’s depths.

The Alya-mare opened the door to her carriage. The guards pulling her vehicle had stopped, and unhitched themselves. But instead of joining the fight or staying by their mistress’s side, they were fleeing towards the safehouse. The Alya-mare tried to take in the scene before her. “What’s going—”

“Hi Alya-mare!” Blackwing interrupted with far too much cheer given the deadly situation, and he pulled out a gem from one of his pouches. “Bye Alya-mare!” He tossed the fire gem.

The Alya-mare tried to run, but she only made it a couple of steps before the gem landed within the confines of the carriage. The carriage exploded, and the Alya-mare was violently thrown forward, tumbling when she hit the ground.

Something ugly burst up from within this one at the sight of the Alya-mare lying on the ground amongst the burning debris of the cart. This one snapped up a wand at Blackwing, this time a thing of gnarled wood it had taken from the Ephemera-mare’s corpse during one of its adventures with the Do-mare. This one was going to kill Blackwing, and green lightning flashed from it and struck Blackwing. But instead of frying the traitorous lieutenant, a protective talisman around his neck burst, having absorbed the worst of this one’s attack.

Only momentarily staggered, Blackwing dived at this one, rolling and flipping to make himself difficult to hit. This one fired again, but missed him by inches. Blackwing threw a pair of spikes, but they were deflected by one of this one’s charms. The final distance between us was closed, and this one unsheathed a dagger in time to deflect a blow that sent a shockwave up this one’s arm.

Blackwing landed and leveled the tip of his blade at this one’s head. He smiled as he prepared to spring forward. “Puzzle, there you are. This one would recognize that wand anywhere, and it knows you wouldn’t give it to just anyone. You’re too sentimental for that.”

“When and why did you become a traitor?” this one demanded as we faced off in the rain, each of us a coiled snake ready to strike. Time played in this one’s favor, it hoped, and it wanted to know why he was doing this. Once it knew the truth, then it would avenge the Alya-mare.

“Surrender and this one would be happy to tell you.”

This one's eyes narrowed. “We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

Blackwing chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, this one knew, and that’ll keep things from getting boring. Good thing this one doesn’t have to take you alive. Speaking of...”

He launched himself forward, his sword striking like a scorpion’s stinger. This one barely parried aside the strike with its dagger and stepped forward to point the wand right at Blackwing’s chest. Firing at point blank range, the lightning bolt staggered Blackwing back a step, but once again one of the talismans hanging around his neck absorbed the worst of it. His sword swept outward once again, hitting the wand with enough force to knock it out of this one’s hoof.

This one pulled out a second dagger in time to meet Blackwing’s next assault. His blade moved through a series of expertly coordinated combos that used his weapon’s superior reach to keep this one on its heels. This one saw an opening as he finished a combo and darted forward. This one’s left dagger struck towards his chest, but it was deflected to the side with a sweep of the sword. As intended, the right dagger flashed forward and caught his weapon by the crossguard, and this one pressed forward to lock the weapons together. This one aimed the dagger at Blackwing’s eye and with an effort of will activated the enchanted dagger’s magic. The tip of the dagger shot out like a crossbow bolt, the dagger extending to the length of a longsword.

It almost got him, but Blackwing just barely avoided getting his brain tickled by jerking his head to the side. Still, the blade struck the side of his helmet with enough force to create sparks and he staggered a step from the hit. This one pressed its advantage and slashed at his neck with the left dagger, but he got his blade up in time to stop this one from opening his jugular. This one kept up the assault with sword and dagger, but Blackwing had his balance back and met this one head-on.

Our blades became little more than blurs in the night as we slashed, stabbed, feinted, deflected, and blocked as each of us sought holes in the other’s defenses. There was no time to think, only act and react with reflexes born out of nature or years of hard training. In the end it was hard to tell how long the exchange went. It could have been but a hooffull of seconds or half an hour, so deep had this one fallen into the meditation of battle. This one had hit Blackwing only once during the whole exchange, and his blade had touched this one three times. None of the landed blows had been serious, our armor protecting us from the light attacks, but Blackwing still grinned as we stared at one another at the end of the clash.

“Now this is more like it!” Blackwing’s eyes flashed with excitement. “You have any idea how hard it is to find a real challenge when you’re the best?”

“You’re making a big assumption that you’re the best,” this one said through heavy breaths. “From where this one is standing, you haven’t surpassed the master yet.”

Blackwing chuckled, his eyes twinkling from the thrill of battle. “Maybe, but this one knows just the thing to prove how far it has come.”

His grin spread as he prepared to re-engage. Despite the rational part of this one’s brain telling it that it was in mortal danger, that it should try and escape this extremely dangerous situation, this one’s heart pounded with excitement. Its blood sang for battle, for the thrill of the fight where a single mistake could mean disaster. Not that this one was about to throw away all good sense. To go along with that thrill from the fight, this one also wanted to win, to feel the euphoria of victory.

We charged each other. This one threw its dagger at his face, and he deflected it with a bracer. Using the moment where he was on the defensive, this one slashed with its sword, committing his blade to the defense. This one threw its right hoof in a hook at Blackwing’s jaw. He raised an elbow to block the attack, but this one transformed its arm into a hippogryph-like talon midswing, twisting its fist and arm at an unpredictable angle so that it slipped past Blackwing’s defense. The fist slammed into his jaw, and this one activated its shock bracer, sending out its full power to fry its traitorous lieutenant.

But instead of electrocuting him like it should have, the power went straight to an opal sealed to the front of Blackwing’s armor. It started glowing and there was a high-pitched whine as it crackled with electricity. Before this one could react, an explosive shockwave slammed into this one and sent it flying. This one hit the cobblestones with a jolt, stunned by the sudden impacts.

“Come on, Puzzle, give this one some credit.” Blackwing wiped the side of his mouth, ichor trickling as he stalked towards this one. “Did you really think this one would tussle with you without being ready for your favorite tricks? Despite what you sometimes seem to think, this one did listen to your lessons, especially the part about being prepared for the opponent you’re about to fight.”

Blackwing raised his weapon, readying to drive it home into this one’s body as it tried to push itself to its hooves with far less success than it liked. But then Blackwing stopped in his tracks and turned his head. He frowned deeply as he saw that the Companions were recovering from his poison gas cloud and were starting to approach us.

“That’s annoying.” Blackwing pulled out another vial of noxious gas. “We can’t have them interfering, this one is having way too much fun for that.”

He pulled back to throw, but before he could toss it this one threw a spike that struck the vial. The glass shattered, and a noxious green cloud burst out all around us. This one immediately closed its eyes and stopped breathing, kicking off the ground and starting to fly away from its opponent. Still, this one caught just enough of the smoke for this one to start coughing violently and cause its eyes to water. Luckily, this one still managed to get out of the cloud, even if it fell back to the ground on unsteady hooves. Fighting through the vertigo and nausea, this one pulled out and tossed a firegem right into the cloud. It was a klutzy throw, but you only needed to be close with a firegem, and this one had a big target.

The firegem exploded and lit the cloud ablaze, the force of the explosion knocking this one off its unsteady hooves as the heat felt uncomfortably warm as it washed over this one. This one continued hacking, blinking through blurred eyes as it tried to regain its bearings. The smoke from the explosion cleared, but this one didn’t see Blackwing anywhere, alive or dead. No way he was disintegrated by that blast, but he had to be somewhere.

The Companions ran towards this one, and the Arrow-stallion called out. “He’s gone invisible again!”

Ah, that would explain it. This one pulled out a vial and started choking down the potion, an unpleasant experience when this one was still coughing thanks to the noxious cloud. Still, this one drank enough of the potion for it to be able to see through invisibility spells and common illusions. This one spotted Blackwing. He was flying away, if in an extremely drunken manner. He had taken a dose of his own medicine and, considering even he couldn’t fight while puking his guts out, was making an escape. This one couldn’t let that happen.

The lightning wand was lying a little ways from this one, and it scrambled over to snatch it up. This one aimed and fired, but between the rain, nighttime darkness, the tears in this one’s eyes, and Blackwing’s erratic flying, this one missed. This one tried to chase after him, firing off more shots that missed, but this one’s legs wouldn’t cooperate. Being blown off its hooves twice and after being hit with the gas had rendered this one’s legs into jelly.

This one stumbled, but the Arrow-stallion caught this one. “Whoa, careful there, sir!”

“He’s getting away!” this one growled as it tried to get its hooves under it.

The Arrow-stallion spoke with perfect deference to this one, but this one could see the displeasure in his eyes. “And with all due respect, sir, you’re in no shape to go after him.”

Dammit, but he was right. Blackwing was flying out of sight, and the opportunity to catch and stop him was slipping through its hooves. But there wasn’t anything this one could do. Theoretically this one could send its bodyguards after him, but that was likely to end up with Blackwing ambushing them from whatever hiding hole he crawled into. Then this one would be alone, hurt, and in a poor condition to defend itself.

This one took a deep breath to calm itself, only to regret it when it was hit by another coughing fit. Still, this one pulled its thoughts together. “The Alya-mare?”

“She’s alive!” called out the Companion who’d gone over to check on her. A wave of relief swept over this one, and this one motioned for the Arrow-stallion to help it walk. The Alya-mare groaned and sat up as we reached her.

“Are you okay?” this one asked.

The Alya-mare rubbed her head. “I-I think so. I drank some protective potions before we met at the restaurant.” She grimaced when she looked at the burning wreckage of the carriage. We wouldn’t be asking any questions of the mercs who’d been caught inside when it’d been hit by the firegem. “Good thing I had, too.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” A quick look showed that the Alya-mare had several scratches on her back, and a few clumps of fur had been burned away, but as long as she didn’t have any internal injuries she looked like she’d be fine. “Let’s get inside, it’s not safe out here.”

“Also putting it mildly.” The Alya-mare was helped up, and we were escorted to the safehouse. All we could do was flee the streets that were no longer safe for this one.

Succession and Legacies

This one had just been through one of the worst days of its life. Considering the sheer number of bad days this one had gone through, including the one where this one had been exiled to an island so irrelevant it was literally called Port Nowhere, that was saying something. Any day where you were attacked and nearly killed multiple times had a way of making such an impression. Still, this one hadn’t come as far as it had by giving up when things got tough, so this one took stock of our situation as we limped into the Alya-mare’s safehouse.

The safehouse was a repurposed warehouse this one’s organization used as a front for a shipping company, and hid several smuggling holes under its floorboards. The crates that normally dominated the interior had been shoved to the side or stacked up outside. Given that several of them were now filled with garbage, they must have once been filled with supplies, and that they were now largely empty was worrying. The Alya-mare hadn’t been lying about being cut off from her funds if her central base was in such a desolate state.

Several simple mattresses had been set up in one of the corners, and a couple of guards were sleeping there even now. Not that the guards standing watch looked particularly alert or even ready to react to a sudden threat; most of them had a haggard, despondent look to them. Their shoulders sagged, they didn’t look at one another or anyone else, and there were bags under their eyes. A couple of them also had wounds wrapped in bandages, and what’s more, they hadn’t reacted to their employers being attacked despite us being within sight. Add that to the fact that the Alya-mare’s bodyguards had bolted the moment Blackwing had shown himself and a picture formed: their morale was breaking. Yet another worry added on to the quickly growing pile.

As for the Alya-mare herself, she was being treated for her injuries. None of them were particularly serious in the grand scheme of things, especially considering she’d just been blown up, but they were still worth getting patched up. That gave this one a few minutes to look around the safehouse and to speak with the Arrow-stallion.

The sergeant leaned in to whisper to this one as he carefully eyed the guards around us. “How worried should we be about being in the belly of the beast, sir?”

It struck this one as best to be honest with him. As a sergeant he was no doubt used to the fact that horseapples rolled downhill. “We'll find out soon enough, but so far Alya's been on our side.”

He grunted and frowned. “‘So far.’”

This one nodded slightly. The Alya-mare had claimed to be loyal to this one up until now, but that could very well be a ploy. It could very well be she had planned on drawing this one into an ambush rather than trying something at a neutral meeting location. Perhaps she was even planning on this one eliminating her rivals before disposing of this one. Until this one had more facts to work off of, it was going to continue to be suspicious.

“I’m thinking to bring more Companions here,” this one told the sergeant. “Both to secure this place and to keep an eye on everyone here.”

The Arrow-stallion looked over the interior of the warehouse with a tactical eye. “Sounds like a good idea to me, sir. I can send a message to General Platinum if you like and get that ball rolling. I think I have a pretty good idea how many people we’ll need to secure this place.”

This one rubbed its chin, thinking the problem over. “Do that if you can. Tell her the situation and what we’re dealing with, and how many additional guards we’ll need, but don’t have her send the guards yet. Have them ready, but don’t move until I give a confirmation. I want to talk with the Alya-mare first.”

“If you’re sure.” The sergeant made it clear he’d rather have the additional guards come immediately, but this one had its reasons for doing the things it was. “Shall I go ahead and do that? I’d like to find out what happened to Basher, too. We kinda left her flapping in the wind outside. She had an invisibility potion to help her out of a mess like that for a reason, but I’d like to make sure she’s okay.”

This one nodded. “Go ahead. Hopefully she got out of that fight without getting hurt. Keep me updated on any reports Platinum sends back.” This one didn't honestly expect him to tell this one everything his commander would, but that was okay as long this one wasn’t being kept out of the loop entirely.

“Yes sir.” The Arrow-stallion told his fellow Companions to keep an eye on this one while he took care of that and then departed.

The Alya-mare had finished getting patched up by that point, so this one went to speak with her. “How are you holding up?”

The Alya-mare raised an arm and stretched, wincing. “Could be better, but I could be a lot worse.”

“That was quite the scare we had out there.” This one placed a privacy spell runic stone down on a crate and activated its magic. “This one is sorry to say that your safehouse is suffering from a profound lack of safety. Blackwing attacked us right outside, so even assuming he didn’t trail us here, he must have seen your guards run in. Though this one thinks it's far more likely he was lying in wait for us to show up.”

“Which means he already knew about my safehouse.” The Alya-mare grimaced and her gaze swept over her gathered employees. “Which also means I probably have a spy telling him everything I’m doing. If that’s the case, we can’t even move to another safehouse. There’s no point if a spy is just going to rat out where our next hiding hole is.”

“Those were this one’s thoughts exactly.” This one leaned against a stack of crates. It had been a long day, and this one’s body was feeling it. “Have you been checking for infiltrators?”

The Alya-mare’s eyes narrowed with incredulity. “Of course I have. You taught me what to look for, and it’s not like I’ve been letting my guard down with Gustav and Blackwing breathing down my neck. I’ve caught a couple of their agents, but that was months ago and I’ve been careful about who I’ve brought here since.” She frowned. “Still, it seems I’ve missed at least one.”

This one rubbed its chin. “We might be dealing with a sleeper agent. It’s simple enough to instruct a spy to keep their head down until something really juicy comes along, such as the fact that this one returned and contacted you. From there it, wouldn’t be hard to guess that this one would eventually come back with you to your safehouse to plan and gather resources to deal with him and Gustav.”

“Sounds right.” The Alya-mare sighed and sat back against a crate. “Lucky us. Sleeper agents can be really hard to catch while they’re not being active.”

“That's why they're so useful,” this one said. “And why this one wants you to make it a priority to find out who this spy is. You know your people, so it’d be best if you lead the charge on this for now.”

She nodded. “Makes sense. Though what’s the plan for taking back control of the organization? Things are getting ugly out there, in case you didn’t notice when we got ambushed twice in less than an hour.”

“Oh, this one definitely noticed. Blackwing's clearly out for blood. He even had magical items specifically tailored to fight this one.” This one crossed its arms over its chest as it thought over the implications of that. He must have been intending on betraying this one for some time if he’d come that prepared to fight it. Though this one had to wonder how that could have affected the conflict within the organization. “He’s probably hoping to kill this one, since that would give him a pretty good claim for taking over the organization. It would certainly leave an impression.”

The Alya-mare looked at this one intently as her calculating mind went to work. “Makes sense. He's—try not to take this the wrong way, but he's you in many ways. He’s got a lot of your skills and he’s been putting them to work. It’s been like boxing with a shadow with him: he’s always picking away at my people and resources, but I can never touch him.”

Though the Alya-mare did a good job of hiding it, this one heard the fear in her voice. It was behind her intelligent eyes, slowly eating away her will to fight. It wasn’t terribly surprising to discover that she was shaken; she had been on the defensive for months now, with dwindling resources, and, by the looks of it, no winning moves until this one returned to Freeport. Best to shore up her morale now and confirm that things were well in hoof, even if that wasn’t entirely true just yet. One of the last things this one needed right then was for her to fall apart.

“He might be this one’s equal as a fighter, but he was always a bit too blunt and direct,” this one told her. “This one’s taught him every trick he knows and this one knows how he thinks, not to mention he isn’t a good team player. We can use that against him.”

The Alya-mare took a deep breath. “That might be true, but we’re still going to have to find him if we’re going to pin him down. That’s not going to be easy when he’s a changeling who knows how to stay hidden.”

“That’s a fair concern,” this one admitted, “But this one knows plenty of tricks for finding changelings. This one didn’t get to become Freeport’s best information broker without being able to find people. Some of whom really didn’t want to be found.”

The Alya-mare frowned as she studied this one. “So what're you going to do?”

“A trap would be best,” this one said. “Make him come to us. We want to take the initiative. If we let him decide the pace of the battle then we’re going to pay for it. Always make your opponent dance to your tune whenever possible, control the momentum, and make him move the way you want him to move.”

“So we need bait.” She pointed at this one. “Though the only bait I know he wants is you.”

She had a point. Thus far the only thing this one knew Blackwing cared about was trying to kill this one and, assumedly, take over the organization. That would be something to pursue. Blackwing was probably after the Alya-mare as well, though he hadn’t pursued her nearly as vigorously as he had this one. Likely he’d known about this safehouse for as long as the Alya-mare’s been here and could have struck at her at any time. But Blackwing had been focused on this one since the day it had returned to Freeport. That was telling, even if this one wasn’t quite sure how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together quite yet.

Though this one couldn’t help but note that the Alya-mare was a bit quick to suggest this one should use itself as bait against Blackwing. Perhaps this one was just being paranoid, but...

This one shrugged. “If that's what it comes to then this one will deal with it. Of course, the problem is that he'd have to suspect we’re setting a trap for him. He was always this one's blunt object, but he's still no fool.” This one waved the issue off. “This one will deal with that itself. It has some ideas to pursue, even if they’re going to take some time to set up.”

“Just don’t take forever,” the Alya-mare warned. “I doubt Blackwing is going to wait around. We have to assume that he’ll try again.”

“On that we both agree.” As of that moment, this one considered Blackwing to be the greatest threat: he had the skills to make life difficult and the potential to strike at any time or place. This one liked to control the board, and Blackwing was an unpredictable player. If this one was going to regain control of the situation, Blackwing had to be dealt with. It was doable, but not easy.

With the topic of Blackwing covered for the moment, the Alya-mare changed the subject. “And what about Gustav? He’s still rebelling against you too.”

“He hasn't tried to kill me yet, at least,” this one pointed out.

The Alya-mare’s eyes darkened, and she started speaking with a bitter edge. “His goons just tried to kill you at the restaurant.”

This one raised an eyebrow. “Really? This one didn’t recognize any of the mercs that attacked us at the restaurant.”

The Alya-mare rubbed the back of her neck as she rolled her head. “I interrogated them in the carriage before Blackwing attacked. They belong—belonged to a small merc company, and they were hired by Gustav to ambush our meeting. Gustav was hoping to kill or capture the both of us in one fell swoop.”

This one kept a very careful neutral mask on as it listened to the Alya-mare. Was she telling the truth? The circumstances were suspicious when the Alya-mare was the only one who’d had the opportunity to speak with the mercs, and had done so while alone. It was certainly possible that the Gustav-gryph had hired the mercs who attacked us, but there were a few potential issues with that suggestion. For one, it wasn’t really his style; the Gustav-gryph liked to get into the action himself, especially when it was something critical like beheading an opposing faction. Hiring some mercs to do the job for him, without even his supervision, wasn’t like him. Perhaps his faction had been whittled down to the point he wasn’t confident about being able to do the job himself, but that struck this one as unlikely.

There was also the issue of how exactly the Gustav-gryph had learned about our meeting. Was yet another spy lurking in the Alya-mare’s faction, or was there another explanation for how those mercs had arrived at the right time and place to attack us? There were so many potential explanations for the events that transpired, but discovering the truth was going to be tricky.

It would have been much easier to confirm the facts if this one could have interrogated the mercs itself, but thanks to Blackwing they were dead. Had that been done intentionally by Blackwing to keep them from talking, or had they merely been collateral damage for our battle? It was possible that the mercs had been hired by Blackwing to flush this one out and force this one to run for the Alya-mare’s safehouse after meeting with her, bringing this one right into Blackwing’s waiting arms.

This one inclined its head, not arguing the point. This one didn’t want the Alya-mare to think it was suspicious of her. If she was telling the truth, being outwardly suspicious of her would alienate her—and if she was lying, it would tip her off. “All the more reason for this one to have words with him.”

The Alya-mare’s eyes narrowed. “Words or 'words'?”

Considering the circumstances, this one wanted to see if the Gustav-gryph was receptive to talking. Until this one spoke with him personally or least one of his agents, this one wouldn’t be sure where his mind really was. Maybe he was as determined to fight this one as Blackwing, or perhaps he could be receptive to peaceably being brought back under this one’s command. Whatever the case, this one was going to find out.

“We'll see.” This one pushed off of the crate to properly stand. “This one would rather not burn down any more of its organization than it have to, but...”

The Alya-mare grunted through her pain and discomfort in order to stand as well. “So what’s our next move? You said you’ve got plans, so what are we going to do?”

This one pulled out its checkbook and started writing. “This one wants you to work on stabilizing your part of the organization. First, root out the spy or spies. Second, buy some fresh food and supplies. Get whatever you need with the money this one is giving you. This one is sure you know what you need best. Though do try and make a point of giving everyone a nice meal tomorrow, something to lift morale. Make sure to tell everyone that everything is going to be okay now that this one is back.”

The Alya-mare nodded. “I can do that. What else?”

“Are you going to be able to cash a check?” This one finished writing and tore out the check. “You said that all your bank accounts had been locked down earlier.”

“I have a dummy account I can still use. I’ll manage.” The Alya-mare took the check and frowned deeply as she examined its amount. “I could use more than this, Puzzle. I’ve been starved of funds for months now.”

Indeed, the amount this one wrote was only intended to cover some immediate expenses, not give the Alya-mare the financial freedom to go off and do whatever she wanted. Given the delicate nature of the situation, this one wanted the Alya-mare dependant on it. Thankfully this one had a ready explanation for the amount on the check.

“That’s just to stop the bleeding,” this one explained. “Get things stabilized first and then come up with a list of everything you need money for. We can cover what you need financially after we’ve taken care of the things that need to be taken care of immediately. For instance, the security over this safehouse.”

The Alya-mare pressed her lips together, and this one could sense she wanted to argue. “What did you have in mind?”

“We need more reliable guards. These ones aren’t up to snuff for the type of threats we’re dealing with. Your bodyguards were out of their depth earlier, and they ran for it when Blackwing showed up.”

The Alya-mare sighed and ran a hoof through her mane. “They’re trained to watch over cargo and warehouses, not fight a street war. But they’re all I have.” She fixed this one with an annoyed glower and her tone dripped with bitterness. “You gave Gustav most of the muscle in the organization, after all.”

This one let her displeasure flow off of it without comment. She arguably had some good reasons to be mad. This one had allowed her some merchant guards to keep our goods and property safe, but like the Alya-mare had said, they simply didn’t have the training or weapons for a war. Getting rough was supposed to be the Gustav-gryph’s purview, and now that organizational decision was going to cause us all sorts of trouble.

But the organizational framework of this one’s organization would have to wait to be addressed later. “So what we need is muscle that can counter both the Gustav-gryph and Blackwing. Thankfully, this one has a contract with the Free Companions, and our contract has several contingencies within it. What this one wants you to do is go to the Companions HQ and tell them that this one wants guards placed here, and near any other assets you have that need protecting.”

The Alya-mare’s eyes briefly widened before her brow furrowed. It was several moments before she responded. “Is that wise? You’re suggesting we put all our eggs into one basket by taking on the services of only a single mercenary company for protection. I’m sure you can imagine the number of ways that could go wrong, especially if they’re not trustworthy. You’re going to give them a pretty good look into our operation if you do this.”

“This one is aware of the risks, but considering the circumstances they’re acceptable. Besides, the Companions are good for their word once the ink is dry. Not to mention this one is offering them good coin for doing the job right.” In truth, this one trusted the Companions more than it did its own lieutenants at the moment. This one knew Platinum and had a good relationship with her. What’s more, the Companions didn’t have a horse in this race other than earning their pay. For those reasons, this one was confident they were a known element and something this one could control.

But there was another reason why this one was making the Alya-mare go to the Companions instead of taking care of this matter itself. It would be telling if the Alya-mare gave this one pushback over this plan, outright defied this one, or creatively interpreted this one’s instructions. Effectively, the Alya-mare had two choices: do as this one said and make it easier for this one to exert control over her faction within the organization, or defy this one and expose the fact that she wasn’t going to easily return to following this one’s orders. Something Double Dilemma taught this one when it still worked for the Masks: don't give opponents options, give them dilemmas.

The Alya-mare watched this one’s bodyguards out of the corner of her eye. “I’m not sure about this. I mean, the Companion’s services don’t come cheap, and they’re going to get expensive fast doing basic guard duty.” She frowned at this one. “And you don’t tend to do a good job of negotiating prices. You’re too generous with your coin. You spend a lot more money than you have to for stuff like this.”

That was a common complaint the Alya-mare gave this one, but this was about more than ducats and the size of our bank accounts. “And the reason this one is generous with its ducats is to buy influence with people. Yes, maybe it’s not the most economical use of this one’s coin, but people like this one because they benefit from their relationships with it. And you don’t get people to like you by arguing over every single last ducat like a coin-pinching merchant. This one’s generosity with the Shimmer-mare when she first came to Freeport has paid off in big ways.”

“And where is she now when we could use her help?” The Alya-mare spread her arms to show that the Shimmer-mare was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t see her here to help us, despite you pouring all that time and energy into her. You even went all the way to Northmarch for her, but when we need her the most, she’s nowhere to be seen.”

It was far more complicated than that, not that this one could go into every detail about the situation with the Shimmer-mare. From everything this one saw, the Shimmer-mare needed time to recover from her experiences in Northmarch, both physically and psychologically. She needed space to come to terms with the loss of her leg and the metaphysical damage she’d done to herself to get the power boost to beat Blackfyre. There was also the fact that the White Pony would probably be best suited to make sure the Shimmer-mare got back into a good place in her life. As much as this one wanted the Shimmer-mare’s help, now probably wasn’t the time to get it. Pity saying ‘I’m sorry, but my friend needs time to recover from being maimed by a dragon’ wasn't going to be a winning argument.

This one kept its irritation out of its voice as it came up with an alternative argument. “Sometimes an investment takes time to properly mature. The Shimmer-mare is one such a long-term investment. One that will pay dividends when the time comes.”

The corner of the Alya-mare’s mouth twitched. “From where I’m standing, she’s an expensive investment that isn’t paying back what’s being put into her. It’s because of her that you left Freeport for so long in the first place, and then everything went to Tartarus.”

To this one’s irritation, she had a point. She might be wrong about the Shimmer-mare being a bad investment, but she was right about how much supporting the Shimmer-mare was costing this one right then. That was a bitter pill to swallow, particularly in the face of what the trip to Northmarch itself had cost us.

“If the Shimmer-mare knew what this one was dealing with, she probably would have come to help this one in Freeport,” this one said. “As is, this one didn’t know what it would be facing when it returned today. Everything was going fine for all it knew, and the Shimmer-mare has things she wanted to do in Canterlot.”

“Well we do need her here, and she isn’t anywhere to be seen.” The Alya-mare let out a huff.

“So instead this one hired the Companions to help us,” this one stated, bringing the conversation back around. “And right now this one doesn’t want the Companions to abandon us because they feel this one is being stingy over their fees. Not that this one rolled over for the Platinum-gryph in any event. This one gave as good as it got over the contract negotiations.”

“If you say so.” The Alya-mare’s sides heaved with a great sigh. “How about I go to one or more of the other mercenary companies and negotiate with them? I can get us some good contracts, especially considering how close you are to the Clans, and we won’t have to depend on just one mercenary company for protection. All without having to spend ourselves dry doing it, too. Money is going to be tight as is with repairing the organization from this big mess, and I’d rather not waste more money than we have to put everything back together.”

A curious suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea on the surface, but suspicious as well given the circumstances. She might merely be suggesting a reasonable proposal to save us some money, and diversify who we’re getting help from. But if she had an ulterior motive...

This one shook its head. “No, this one isn’t sure who can be trusted at the moment. There’s a bigger game being played here, and introducing more mercenary companies into the equation creates more opportunities for more leaks. We already have a spy problem.”

“A bigger game?” She stepped closer to this one as her interest was piqued. “What are you talking about?”

This one turned its head away from her as it carefully examined those gathered within the warehouse. “This one can’t confirm anything yet, but there’s a good chance someone is pulling the strings behind this street war. At the very least, they’re exacerbating the problem, if not behind everything. This one can’t go into more at the moment, not until it has more proof.”

The Alya-mare crossed her arms over her chest. “Puzzle, this isn’t the time to keep secrets from me. We need to trust one another if we’re going to get a grip on this. You’re talking about some really scary stuff here.”

This one shook its head. “No, not yet. This one needs to keep things need-to-know for the moment. Take care of everything this one laid out for you and we’ll touch base later once this one finds out more. If you can stabilize your faction within the organization, that will go a long way towards helping.”

And best to minimize the Alya-mare’s role in things for the moment, at least until this one was sure she could be fully trusted. Not to mention this one also wanted to protect her. She was this one’s friend, or at least this one was dearly hoping so after all we had been through. This one certainly trusted the Companions a whole lot more to protect the Alya-mare than the skittish and downtrodden merchant guards she’d been forced to fall back on due to the crisis. With any luck, she would see the wisdom in this one’s decisions in time.

The Alya-mare rubbed her brow. This one could see in her tired eyes that she was dangerously close to a burnout. “Puzzle, you can’t just leave me hanging like this. What would I do if something happened to you?”

This one’s ear flicked. “Probably make do with what you have. If things get too hot, you can always return to the Zebrican Empire. You’ve got investments over there as well as family. You would be able to land on your hooves at the end of the day.”

The crack from the Alya-mare’s hoof hitting the ground was loud enough to make this one flinch. “That's not a solution! That’s asking me to give up everything we’ve built here in Freeport. Years of my life just thrown away with nothing to show for it. Is that the best you can come up with if something were to happen to you?!”

This one glowered. “And what exactly should this one do to make preparations for the event of its death? This one had quite a bit set in stone for when this one isn’t around, but that was before its organization tore itself to pieces. Now this one’s going to have to reorganize everything after this mess is sorted out. Long term plans are going to have to wait until we’ve dealt with the short term problems currently trying their best to kill us.”

“No, I think now is a good time to start talking about the future.” The Alya-mare stepped up so that our muzzles were nearly touching. “In light of everything that’s happened, I think it's about time you made me your partner in the organization. Not just another one of your lieutenants, but a full, equal partner.”

Despite itself, this one barked out a harsh laugh. “You want to make that kind of proposal now of all times? How much of an organization do I have that's outside of your control? How much of that is even left now?”

The Alya-mare scowled. “All the more reason why I should be your partner. I’ve been with you all these years. Have been since we were adventuring with Daring. I'm the one that's been loyal to you, not the others. You can't rebuild anything based on traitors.”

This one shook its head ruefully. “That's true. Once this is all settled, this one will be doing some major reorganization. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re fighting for our lives here. When your house is on fire, your priority isn’t to sit down and plan out a new bathroom expansion—it’s to put the fire out before you lose everything. Once we’re back on top of things we can revisit this.”

The Alya-mare moved to stand beside this one and placed a hoof on its shoulder. “With me standing at your side?”

“Yes.” This one turned its head to look her right in the eyes. “So long as this all isn't some elaborate setup to kill this one off.”

The Alya-mare blinked as though slapped. “Puzzle! How can you think that about me?!”

“This one doesn’t,” this one said with perfect neutrality. “But this one didn't see Blackwing or Gustav betraying it either, and yet here we are.”

In truth, this one had made the provocative statement to see exactly how she reacted. A precisely timed aggressive question could tell you a lot if you did it right, and knew what to look for. The Alya-mare had seemed legitimately shocked, and this one had quite a bit of experience reading her. On the other hoof, she’d also gotten good at lying when necessary. Wheeling and dealing with the other merchants in Freeport required you to have at least a passable poker face, and hers was pretty good. Not to mention she would have had time to practice her reaction for if and when this one asked a question like that.

The Alya-mare scowled as she met this one’s gaze head-on. “We might not have gotten into this mess if you had had a proper successor. As is, just you going away for a few months caused everything to fall apart. If you die we’re all screwed.”

This one rubbed its eyes as the exhaustion from a long day and night took their toll. “So this one is aware, but addressing that is going to have to wait until later.” The Alya-mare opened her mouth to protest, but this one spoke over her. “Later. That’s the end of the conversation. In the meantime, you’re to get some sleep, and then once you’re well rested you’ll take care of the things we discussed.”

The Alya-mare glared at this one for several seconds before replying. “I’m not sure I like the idea of sleeping here when I know there’s a spy under my roof.”

This one shrugged. “Sleep wherever you have to. Sneak out someplace for a few hours and get some shuteye. You’re exhausted, and if this one had to guess you’ve been using potions to keep yourself awake. But potions aren’t as good as a real night’s sleep. The banks aren’t going to be opening until morning anyways, so you might as well take advantage of the downtime.”

Rather than confirm she was going to do as this one said, the Alya-mare asked, “And what will you be doing in the meantime?”

This one grinned. “What this one does best.”

What this one actually did was follow its own advice and get some sleep. This one’s most potent weapon was its mind, and sleep was essential in keeping it sharp. While this one could stay awake for a long time if need be, especially if this one had the right potions, this one had made mistakes in the past due to being sleep-deprived. This one could ill afford those types of errors during a time like this, so this one and its guards took some invisibility potions it was carrying and we snuck our way back to the Companion’s HQ. It seemed the safest place to stay for the night given the circumstances, even if the paranoid part of this one’s mind worried that it might be becoming overly dependant on the Companions. This one’s ever growing paranoia aside, this one got a bed and got the sleep it desperately needed while a squad of Companions watched over it.

This one felt a bit guilty over lying about what it was doing, but this one needed to raise her confidence by giving her the impression that it was making progress, not literally sleeping on the job. Perceptions are everything, and the more everyone saw this one as a relentless information broker determined to win this street war the better. Drooling on a pillow during a catnap would have damaged the mystique this one had built up around itself.

Thankfully this one got a good night’s sleep. It was always a pain whenever the gears in this one’s head kept endlessly turning, keeping this one awake when it desperately wanted to get some sleep. But it seemed the long day had successfully worn this one out enough to let it slumber. If anything, this one’s body wanted more rest, but there was work to be done.

This one sent a couple of messages off to the Gustav-gryph and Blackwing through the same bronze dragonflies it had used to contact the Alya-mare. This one doubted they would both want to meet with this one, but this one had to get the ball rolling.

It was as this one was eating breakfast that it received a message back from the Gustav-gryph. To this one’s mild surprise, the Gustav-gryph had indeed agreed to a meeting. That was … good, assuming this wasn’t an ambush. The Alya-mare had claimed that the mercs who had attacked the previous night had been hired by the Gustav-gryph, but this one wasn’t entirely confident she was telling the truth. This one was just going to have to ask the Gustav-gryph in person if at all possible, though first this one needed to set the stage to make sure such a meeting would be a success.

Thus, this one sought out Platinum for a meeting. This one was directed to the training yard at the heart of the Companions’ HQ. It was a simple enough affair, with a sand-covered space in the middle for weapons practice and exercises, several practice dummies to the side, and a range of weapon stands loaded with practice weapons. Platinum was there, as well as two young hippogryphs and a unicorn in her early teens. This one knew that the two hippogryphs were Platinum’s children, and the two of them were facing off against one another, each with a padded practice sword in talon.

“I, Torch Charger, am here to overthrow you vile Necrocrats! Stand aside or be defeated!” cried out one, leveling his weapon on his opponent.

“Not a chance,” the other one said. “I am Ushabti, and I have been brought back to life with my own magics! I’m taking back command of the Necrocrats, so stand aside or face my wrath.”

“Death to the Necrocrats!” the sibling cried and charged, diplomacy thrown aside.

This one watched the siblings play for a time, enjoying the sight of them attempting to wallop each other with the passion of youth before making its way to Platinum and the teenager she was speaking with. This one didn’t recognize the teenager. She had a cyan coat and her short mane was mulberry with light turquoise stripes in it. She had a regal bearing about her, if with atouch of perpetual disdain in how she carried herself.

“So your father says you've been training with the smallsword lately?” Platinum pointed to the weapon strapped to the unicorn’s side.

She nodded. “I've been liking it better than the longsword.”

Platinum gave the unicorn a knowing smile. “It is a very elegant and precise weapon.”

The unicorn teenager pulled out the weapon and presented it to the Companions’ general. As its name suggested, the blade was shorter than many of its kin, if much lighter and easier to wield. “I like that part of it. It feels right. Not to mention it fits a lot better on a weapon belt.” She nodded to the scabbard at her waist.

“That’s always been my favorite thing about the smallsword. The rapier and other dueling swords are better for actually going into a fight, but for something to wear comfortably all day long they’re hard to beat. Of course, these days I have to keep up appearances.” Platinum grinned and rested a talon on her own blade: Dawnfire. The basket-hilted sword had been gifted to the Free Companions by the White Pony herself back when they had joined Torch’s Rebellion. Since then, it had been passed down from one generation of Companions to the next.

This one decided to emerge from people watching and stepped up to engage in the conversation. There was value in watching others converse, but this one had business it needed done. “It can be quite effective if you can use it right. Though it's a weapon you really need to master if you want to use it in a proper fight. Otherwise a less skilled opponent might have you beat with a simpler weapon.”

Platinum grinned as this one approached. “True. The longsword, axe, and spear might not be elegant and sophisticated, but it's hard not to hurt someone when you smack them with that much sharp metal. Smallswords require skill to be of any real use.”

“I know that,” the teenager grumbled as she resheathed her blade. “You have to really hit an opponent's weak points with a slim blade like this. Especially if they’re wearing armor.”

“And against some monsters,” this one added. “Not to mention you’d have to worry about an opponent potentially having superior reach.”

“Exactly.” Platinum turned to face this one. “But I'm sure you didn't come here to give the daughter of my favorite contract negotiator a lesson in swordsmareship, Puzzle.”

This one shook its head. “Unfortunately no, this one is here on business.”

“So let's get to it.” Platinum looked to the teenager. “If you don't mind, Sunny?”

Sunny frowned, not happy with having her time with the general cut short. As was the case with many youngsters, they valued the time and attention they got from adults. “No, of course not. I'll just continue practicing.”

“Thank you.” Platinum watched Sunny walk off towards one of the practice dummies before turning to give this one her full attention.

“This one presumes she's to take up the family business?” this one asked, making a bit of small talk before getting right to business.

“Naturally,” she confirmed. “We're not as extreme about it as the clans, but most of our children do end up following in our steps.”

“It does help when you learn how to hold a weapon almost as soon as you learn how to walk,” this one confirmed. “Becoming a true master with the blade usually takes a lifetime of work. What’s her name, by the way?”

“Sunny Flare. She’s Regal Flare’s daughter.”

“Ah, gotcha.” As Platinum had mentioned earlier, she was the daughter of the Companions’ chief contract negotiator. This one had briefly met him on several occasions, namely social events among the elite of society. Due to this one personally knowing Platinum and the money this one was offering for its contract, this one had skipped working with him on this occasion, but this one had dealt with him a couple of times in the past.

“And this one sees your own kids are here too.” This one grinned. “Looks like they take after their mom. They definitely have your enthusiasm.”

Platinum glanced in her kids’ direction as they continued playing. The one playing Torch, the larger and older of the two, was gaining an advantage over their younger sibling, landing more blows than their opponent. Not that the younger one was letting their older sibling have an easy time of it. “They are my pride and joy. With any luck, who I’ll pass everything onto someday.” Once again she placed a talon on her blade and smiled with a mother’s love.

This one watched as they played, and something stirred within this one, even if it wasn’t quite sure what. “Must be nice to be a parent.”

“It’s brought me far more joy than I'd ever expected.” She chuckled to herself. “They can give me the runaround, but it’s worth it at the end of the day. I couldn't imagine life without them anymore.”

“That seems to be the consensus of most parents.” This one found a smile creeping onto its face, even if this one didn’t quite feel it. “This one has to admit, it's a bit jealous.”

Platinum raised her eyebrows. “You've never thought of starting a family?”

This one frowned as it considered its words carefully. “This one has thought about it. More than once, honestly. It just seemed ... unwise.” This one sighed and shook its head. “This one's been single for most of its life, and this one doubts it has to tell you how much of a hooffull kids can be even when you’ve got two parents around. Being a single parent is ... doable, though that's asking a lot of any kid to bring them into that kind of situation.”

Platinum faced this one and spoke with a serious tone. “What about your current companion? The Equestrian spy?”

“That's ... complicated,” this one admitted. “Honestly, this one isn't sure if she'd be interested in marriage, much less kids. This one suspects she's happy with what we've got right at the moment. She enjoys going out on dates and having fun, but a more serious relationship? This one’s not sure.”

This one could see several potential reasons why the Heartstrings-mare wouldn’t be interested in kids. Sure, her time in the EIS was coming to an end, being the biggest barrier to any kind of relationship between us, but the Heartstrings-mare still might not want a serious relationship. That didn’t even get into the kids question. Her own unhappy history with her parents would have to prey on her mind. Having both of your parents become unable to raise you would affect anyone.

“Still, I'd imagine by now your parents are asking about grandchicks. Grandfoals? Grandgrubs?” Platinum shrugged. “Whatever the right term is.”

This one eyes fell to the ground as it thought. “They've been doing that for a while now, yeah. But surprise, they want this one to give them some grandkids while they’re still young enough to enjoy them. And this one dating the Heartstrings-mare only causes that type of talk to come up more often. Especially when the Heartstrings-mare is the first person this one has dated since the Do-mare. They're worried about this one growing old and alone—the normal stuff when parents don’t see their kid finding a serious relationship before a certain point in their lives.”

“I can imagine. And it doesn’t sound like you have too many barriers in your life to having a kid if you really want one,” Platinum pointed out. “Money shouldn’t be a problem for you, and that’s no small thing. I love my kids to bits, but they put a dent in my bank account. You’re also responsible, with a good head on your shoulders. You should talk with your partner about it, at least.”

“Probably.” This one couldn’t find a good reason not to talk with the Heartstrings-mare when it got an opportunity. “But this one’s still worried about the type of life it would be bringing a kid into.”

Platinum placed a talon on this one’s shoulder. “You think you'd be a bad father?”

This one ran a hoof along its headcrest as it worked its way through uncomfortable thoughts. “No, it’s not that. Well, this one worries it might do a bad job due to always being busy.” Recent experiences with Scarlett had shown just how poisonous neglecting one’s child for the sake of one’s job could be, and that wasn’t a mistake this one wanted to repeat. Learning from your own mistakes was all well and good, but this one preferred to learn from the mistakes of others when at all possible.

“You wouldn’t be the only parent to worry about that type of thing.” She patted this one’s shoulder. “I know I’ve worried at times if I’ve been spending too much time at work than with the kids. It’s something we all have to learn how to balance. You have to work at it to make sure you give your kids the time they need, but it’s doable. If you want some advice on that, I’m sure I could give you a few words.”

“If this one does decide to jump into this, it will take you up on that. Though what has this one even more worried about...” This one’s ears wilted. “What sort of life would this one bring a grub into? This one has enemies that might target its kids to get at it.”

A flash of emotions flashed over Platinum’s face, and she squeezed this one’s shoulder. “That can be a worry, but it’s something that can be managed. You’ll just have to do what everyone else rich and powerful does to protect their kids in Freeport. Bodyguards can do a lot to put one’s mind at ease.”

Despite the severity of the talk, this one couldn’t help but smile. “Says the hippogryph who offers bodyguard services.”

“Call it professional insider knowledge.” Platinum poked this one’s side. “And in addition to bodyguards, I’m sure you know how to put word out on the street not to mess with your kids as well as the extraordinarily terrible consequences to anyone that tries. There are advantages to having a reputation.”

“That much is true.” This one frowned as it watched Platinum’s kids play. Apparently they had decided to join forces against one of the practice dummies, and judging from their gusto the dummy must have done something particularly nefarious. “Though this one also worries that it won’t be there to see its kids grow up. Let’s be honest, this one doesn’t have the safest lifestyle. This one could have been killed at least four times yesterday, and that was just one day.”

This one didn’t like going around talking about it, but for the longest time this one was pretty much convinced it would never live to old age. This one just had too many enemies, and put itself into too much danger on a regular basis. All it would take was one mistake, one bad fight, a little bit of bad luck, and then this one would be dead. Honestly, this one had thought it only had about a fifty percent chance of coming as far as it had, much less the chances of it ever actually living long enough to see its plans all the way through to the end.

Which in some ways only further emphasized the need to have someone to pass everything onto someday. As time passed, way too much was coming to depend on this one’s heartbeat. This one found it didn’t like the idea of so many of its secrets dying with it, and having this one’s estate seized and carved up by the government.

“I know all about that worry. Being a merc isn’t the safest occupation either.” Platinum got a distant look in her eyes as she watched her kids swing away at the dummy. “That just makes it even more important to have a reliable partner if you can get one. That, and having at least one damn good godparent helps.”

“You make a good argument.” Once again this one felt a stirring of something it couldn’t quite put a hoof on. “Would it sound silly if this one said that it feels like it's entering a different part of its life?”

Platinum shook her head. “Not at all. We all do that. It’s just a part of growing older.”

Deep down, this one knew things were in fact changing. This one had been wanting to move onto the next stage with its plans even before leaving for Northmarch. The organization turning on itself created a highly compelling reason to change how everything was organized. Even this one’s relationships were changing; since returning to Freeport, this one had decided to abandon the idea of friendship, deeming them too dangerous to have for multiple reasons. It was much easier to keep a secret if you were the only one who knew it, not to mention other people knowing a secret made them a target.

So this one had scorned the idea of friendship. Sure, this one had acquaintances and friends, but no one this one really felt like it could confide its deepest secrets to. Things were friendly enough with the Alya-mare, or had been, but that had increasingly become an employer and employee relationship due to necessity, or so this one told itself.

Now though? If this one was honest, this one’s self-imposed isolation had been a lonely existence—sometimes crushingly so. This one had told itself that keeping everyone at legs’ length seemed the safest option for all involved, both for this one and the people it knew, and that its goals would make this one’s sacrifices worth it. But with time even that ironclad logic began to feel increasingly hollow. Or maybe it was this one that was hollow? Perhaps it was a sentiment born out of weakness, but over time this one had come to value its companionship with the Shimmer-mare and the Heartstrings-mare. Was it necessary for this one to bear its burdens alone, or could it think one risk sharing? Both sides of the argument had risks and rewards.

As was so often the case in life, the answers for this question were not easily found. “You’ve given this one some things to think about, at the very least.” This one’s face wrinkled as it contemplated a variety of possibilities. “Such as the possibility of this one ending up carrying a grub.”

Platinum raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

This one felt just a bit queasy thinking about this. “If the Heaststrings-mare isn't interested in going through pregnancy or if we end up having more than one kid, she might want this one carry some of the burden, as it were. Biologically speaking, this one is a hermaphrodite, so this one’s can’t exactly shy away from the idea of becoming pregnant entirely if it really wants its own kids badly enough. Not like how a stallion could, in any event.”

“That's true, I suppose.” She poked the side of this one’s belly. “Still, it’s hard to imagine you pregnant. You’re just so, well...”

“Masculine? That’s generally how this one thinks of itself too.”

It was pretty hard for this one to imagine too. Sure, every changeling was technically considered a hermaphrodite due to our shapeshifting nature, but the idea of bearing a grub was still weird in this one’s head. It was one of those things this one theoretically knew it could do, but conceptually was a bit out there. But then again, just the idea of becoming a parent was enough to give this one a measure of anxiety, even if this one knew that was a perfectly normal thing to worry about.

This one shrugged. “Though it’s not like this one hasn't used female disguises in the past. And this one is sure you’ve done things you otherwise wouldn’t have for the sake of your kids.”

“Being a parent does mean making sacrifices.” Platinum rubbed her chin. “But I suppose changelings can be flexible on this type of thing.”

“You could call that an advantage. In any event, that depends on what the Heartstrings-mare wants,” this one said. “And before this one can do that, it needs to get its organization back under control.”

“Yeah, point.” Platinum waved for this one to follow her. “Back to business, then. What did you have for me?”

We arrived back in Platinum’s office. She should have already heard everything that happened the previous day from the Arrow-stallion, so this one jumped into what was to be done next. “This one has some good news. The Gustav-gryph wants to meet with this one at the Goldtalon-gryph’s club later tonight.”

The Goldtalon-gryph, in addition to owning the premier auction house in Freeport, also owned a prominent music and dining club. It was where he usually spent his time when he didn’t have an auction to organize or run. Thankfully, he had agreed to let this one use his club as a neutral meeting ground.

“Let me guess, you need some guards?”

This one nodded. “Yes. Even if this one can only bring so many guards into the club—overtly, anyway.”

Platinum rubbed her chin. “Big surprise, Goldtalon doesn’t like it when people bring a small army into his respectful club. No proper businessgryphon wants their customers to suddenly turn their establishment into a warzone.”

“Still, this one will be able to bring some guards, and this one wants the option to bring in reinforcements. There is the chance the Gustav-gryph might break the truce and attack this one, and it wants to be ready just in case.” This one grimaced. “There’s also the possibility that someone else might decide to crash the party. This one would prefer to play it safe either way.”

Platinum drummed her talons on her desk. “It’d be a bold move to start a fight at that club, or else an incredibly stupid one depending on how you want to look at it. Anyone who starts something is going to have to deal with the guards he’s got in place there. They’re a solid lot from what I’ve seen. Goldtalon pays for quality, and keeps his guards well equipped. That’s not even getting into the fact that Goldtalon’s got a lot of friends in high places. Anyone that starts a fight in one of his establishments is going to have to worry about the condottieri coming down on their heads.”

“Those are among the reasons why this one chose his club as a meeting place,” this one said. “But just because doing something is stupid doesn’t preclude the possibility that someone might do it anyways.”

Platinum snorted. “Isn’t that the truth? The problem with having your backup outside is that it’s going to take time to get inside, especially if Goldtalon’s guards take umbrage with the idea of us coming in.” Her beak spread with a wry grin. “Good news is that I have an obvious solution to that. Goldtalon's going to want extra security given the circumstances. Even if he thinks you’re going to be good, he’s going to worry Gustav or someone else might try something just because you’re there.”

This one grinned back. “And naturally, you can offer your services to bolster his guard for the night.”

Platinum poked this one in the chest. “Just make sure you don't start anything, or those extra guards might jump you.”

This one scoffed in good humor. “Now, since when does this one start trouble?”

“All the time from what I hear,” Platinum countered. “You just tend to be more circumspect about it than most.”

This one shrugged, she wasn’t wrong. “Tonight this one doesn’t plan on starting a fight. With any luck, Gustav doesn’t either.”

This one certainly did its best to abide by truces, particularly when it was meeting on someone else’s turf. Truce breaking was a bad habit to get into; it made the trucebreaker seem particularly untrustworthy, and added a significant barrier to any future meetings one might want. After all, who wanted to negotiate with someone prone to stabbing those they meet under the table? Reputations are everything, and this one had been very careful in cultivating its image. While this one was often perceived as prone to skullduggery, it had also been careful to keep its word, honor contracts, and not attack people on neutral ground. There was a fine line between being seen as dangerous and shady, and being outright disreputable and impossible to safely deal with.

“Let's hope.” Platinum leaned against her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “Though from what I’ve been told, Gustav isn’t your only problem. From the sounds of things, Blackwing took a shot at you last night.”

This one let out an annoyed huff. “Blackwing is proving to be the real problem child out of this one’s lieutenants. This one is pretty sure he’s targeting this one specifically—he was waiting for this one last night and was equipped to fight it.”

“Sounds like it from what I’ve heard. Do you have a plan for taking him down?”

This one nodded. “This one has a couple. This one sent him a message the same time it sent one to the Gustav-gryph, though he hasn’t replied yet. But in all honesty, there was only a forty percent chance he would even respond to the message, much less agree to a meeting.”

Platinum’s tailed flicked back and forth. “Considering he just tried to kill you, I'd put it lower.”

“He's pretty confident in himself,” this one pointed out. “He might think he can pin this one down someplace to kill it during an ambush.”

Platinum scowled. “It’s why I wouldn’t recommend meeting him to start with. I wouldn’t trust him when he’s already taken a shot at you.”

This one shrugged. This one knew the idea of meeting with Blackwing was imperfect, but perfect plans didn’t exist. “This one considered it worth a shot. At the very least, it could give this one an idea of what Blackwing is thinking. Knowing what he’s after, besides killing this one anyways, would go a ways to countering him.”

Platinum shook her head. “As the general of the mercenary company you’ve just hired to keep you safe, I highly recommend against trying to meet Blackwing. You always struck me as the type who’d be willing to sacrifice a pawn to win, but you don’t win at chess by exposing your king. What else do you got?”

This one didn’t particularly like being told what to do, or near enough to being told what it could do, but this one didn’t press the point at that moment. “Assuming Blackwing isn’t willing to step back in line, we’re going to need to hunt him down and capture or kill him. This one has contacts and people it can hire to help with that. Between all the private eyes, mercenaries, and other spies for hire, this one knows we should be able to find wherever he’s hiding. It might take some time, but he can’t be active and keep himself hidden forever.”

Platinum stroked her cheek as she thought the proposal over. “Sounds reasonable. He can’t just hide in a safehouse if he wants to beat you. Generally speaking, you don’t win a war by always playing defensive and ceding the initiative. And to win this and take over your organization, he has to take you out.”

“Right.” This one walked to a window to look down at the rain-slicked streets below. “The Alya-mare seems to be loyal to this one, and if this one can talk the Gustav-gryph into getting back in line as well then that will leave Blackwing isolated. If that happens then this one can bring its full resources down on his head.”

“Getting Alya and Gustav back under your command would give you more breathing room with the Council as well,” Platinum pointed out. “You’ll be able to make the case you’re making progress. Not to mention they shouldn’t cause anymore trouble on the street if you’ve brought them to heel.”

“Good point.” This one rubbed its chin as several pieces of the puzzle started coming together. “This one would like to have a platoon of Companions ready to bring down the hammer if the opportunity presents itself. Though if Blackwing is standing alone, then this one could make the case that Blackwing is a rogue agent and a malcontent. Assuming this one plays its cards right, this one might even be able to get the condottieri to help with hunting him down. We can tell the public at large that we worked on a cooperative venture to bring the chaos on the streets to an end, letting the condottieri save face and this one free of Blackwing.”

“That might work,” Platinum said, sounding slightly doubtful. “Though that would only work if your other lieutenants do step back in line. Otherwise you’re going to look weak and incapable of controlling your own organization if you go begging to the condottieri to pull your plot out of the fire. It’s one thing if you say it’s okay for the condottieri to deal with a single rogue agent, but quite another to ask them to put down an entire street war. Particularly when the Council has told them to butt out of it.”

“So this one is more than aware.” This one turned from the window. “Hence why this one’s first priority is locking down the Alya-mare and the Gustav-gryph. Speaking of, has the Alya-mare shown up yet to request guards for her bases?”

Platinum shook her head. “No, not yet. That a problem?”

This one looked at the clock. It was still pretty early. The Alya-mare could have ended up sleeping in due to her obvious exhaustion. It would also take time to deposit the check this one had given her, and there were several worthwhile things she could spend that money on. That didn’t even get into her needing to take care of basic needs like food and a good hot bath. All of that would eat up time. So this one didn’t need to worry too much. Yet.

“No, this one doesn’t think so,” this one told her. “Though if she doesn’t show by, say, seven in the evening, go ahead and send what guards you need to secure the Alya-mare’s safehouse. Also, once your guards are in place, have them talk up the Alya-mare’s people. Get to know them, learn what they’re thinking, and be on top of whatever the Alya-mare is planning, and pass on what you learn to this one.”

This one wanted to be as sure as it could be that the Alya-mare was, and would continue to be, loyal to this one. Knowing what she was up to would help with that. Strategically placing Companions would go a long way towards making sure she wouldn’t get up to trouble, in addition to protecting her and her assets.

Platinum grinned. “You talk like we wouldn’t be doing that anyways.”

“This one just likes to cover its bases,” this one assured her. “But we still have the morning and early afternoon to work with before this one’s meeting with the Gustav-gryph. This one was thinking to get a start on contracting people to hunt down Blackwing. Getting that ball rolling strikes this one as a good idea.”

“Agreed.” Platinum walked up to a map of Freeport. “So who all did you want to talk to? If at all possible, I’d prefer it if you stayed here where we can best—“

She was cut off when one of this one’s bronze dragonflies flew into the office. This one caught it, and then opened the scroll. This one scowled as it read the scroll’s contents, feeling nasty anger and fear bubble up inside of its chest.

Platinum moved to the one’s side. “What is it? Either Blackwing gave you one nasty burn with that letter or you’ve got bad news.”

“It’s the latter,” this one declared as it crumbled up the scroll. “It’s Blackwing, and he’s at Double Dilemma’s house. He says he wants to meet.” A whirl of emotions ran through this one. Double had been this one’s mentor back when it had still worked for the Masks and he had been the head of the organization. If Blackwing had hurt Double as part of some sick game to get at this one, then he was going to find out he had made a terrible mistake.

Old Acquaintances

The rain continued to beat down on us as we flew towards Sunny Palms Island. Much of the island was owned by a retirement home company, and houses, complexes, and apartments dotted the landscape. This one had visited Double Dilemma in the past, so it flew straight for his home with its Companion escorts. The home slowly emerged from the gloom caused by the rain. It was a blue one-story house outfitted with rails and ramps designed for the needs of the elderly. It belonged to a community where nurses and other employees rotated about the neighborhood to help the residents. Down below, some of them could be seen under umbrellas, going about their business of making the waning years of their charges as comfortable as could be managed.

The Arrow-stallion frowned as we approached Double’s house. “So what are you thinking? Are we going to be dealing with some sort of hostage situation, or do you think we’re walking into a trap?”

This one had been asking itself that the whole trip here. Blackwing’s note stating he wanted to meet this one at Double’s home had caught it off guard. It could be that he hoped he could meet this one someplace it would be less likely to start something for fear of hurting its old mentor and former leader of the Masks, but this one suspected something more sinister. There were plenty of ways Double’s presence could throw this one off. This one was emotionally invested in Double’s wellbeing, for one—in many ways, this one saw him as a favorite uncle. It was clever if that was Blackwing’s intentions, but that type of plan risked becoming too clever for its own good. Sure, you can threaten someone’s family to try and make them act a certain way, but such a tactic was just as likely to cause them to act in irrational or emotional ways they normally wouldn’t.

“It’s almost certainly some kind of trap,” this one decided to tell him. “Though this one suspects it will be more elaborate than a simple hostage situation.”

The Arrow-stallion grunted unhappily. “No offense to you, sir, but spies seem to have a way of making everything overly complicated. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

This one didn’t need him spooked by the cloak-and-dagger tactics of its profession. “I'm well aware of that problem. I've been trying to keep my plans a bit simpler lately.”

This one had learned the hard way a long time ago that a simpler plan was better than a complicated one. Sure, backups, contingencies, and redundancies had their place, but the more complicated a plan got the more likely something would go wrong. Particularly where often unpredictable people were concerned.

“So how can we simplify this one?” The Arrow-stallion squinted for a second before pulling out a pair of binoculars. “Looks like we've got guards down there. Wait, are those Mask agents?”

As we got closer, this one confirmed that they were indeed Masks. There were about a dozen of them, each wearing black armor and cloaks—and those were just the guards this one could easily see. There were always hidden agents floating about pretending to be staff and residents. Double was usually heavily guarded; he knew far too much to risk him being kidnapped and interrogated by the enemies of Freeport. Plus, he had plenty of enemies within Freeport who might get it into their heads to get some revenge on him now that he was no longer in power. But there usually weren’t this many guards around him.

This one stopped to hover for a bit as it thought. “I suppose it's too much to hope that those are just Double's bodyguards.”

The Arrow-stallion fidgeted with his weapon. “Is Blackwing stupid enough to go around pretending to be a Mask agent?”

“I can't rule it out, but I doubt it would be that simple.” Though he hadn’t said them out loud, this one could hear his various worries: getting into any kind of fight with the Masks would be unwise since that was a great way to get on the Council’s bad side. It could be this was part of the scheme on Blackwing’s part to provoke a fight between this one and the Masks. This one did have a checkered past with them, and as this one had taught him, making other factions fight one another to achieve your goals was often a lot safer and easier than doing the fighting yourself. Granted, disguising oneself as a Mask agent was another great way to draw their ire, but Blackwing might be confident enough to think he could pull such a plan off.

“You sure about going there?” He pointed at the house. “I know the General wasn't wild about you going to this meeting. Something's up, I can feel it.”

He wasn’t the only one, but this one needed to figure out what was going on. As Platinum said, you don’t win the game by exposing your king. But there were things this one wanted, or even needed to do itself. Thus far its investigation had been getting blocked left, right, and center, and Blackwing would know things this one needed to know. Besides, it wasn’t like this one was walking in there defenseless. This one had several magical items on itself to aid in an escape if one turned out to be necessary, and this one hadn’t lived as long as it had without being fast to react to a sudden threat.

This one sighed and shook its head. “I'm not sure about it either, but I have to take a few risks if I'm going to get answers...”

The Arrow-stallion didn’t agree with this one, but neither did he disagree. This one carefully flew down. No one shot at us or otherwise acted in an overtly hostile manner, so that was something. The Mask agents took note of us as we flew in, but they didn’t seem overly concerned by the fact.

This one trotted up to the front door, acting as though it belonged there even if this one was quite worried it was just surrounding itself with enemies. One of the two Mask guards flanking the door held up a hoof for this one to stop and called out in a commanding if somewhat bored voice. “And who are you?”

This one straightened itself slightly as it addressed the guards. “Puzzle Piece. I'm expected.”

“That you are.” The guard opened the door. “You may go inside, but leave your guards outside.”

The Arrow-stallion tightened his grip on his weapon and the other Companions stiffened, but this one held up a hoof to settle them. This one leaned closer to the Arrow-stallion and whispered to him. “This one is going to see what this is about. If it looks like trouble, this one will activate the gem.”

“I don’t like it,” the sergeant grunted back. “Something could happen to you before we get to you. And we’re outnumbered.” His eyes flicked to the gathered Mask agents. If it came to a fight, things would likely get very ugly, very quickly.

“That’s why we have contingencies set up.” Above multiple squads of Companions were stationing themselves in the clouds overhead, well out of sight to anyone on the ground. The only problem being that it would take precious time for them to dive to our rescue if it came to a fight. But this one was committed now.

This one stepped into Double’s home, and the guards closed the door behind it. Despite this one’s worries, it wasn’t immediately ambushed. What this one saw there wasn’t exactly what it expected.

Double was sitting in his favorite chair in his living room. He was in his natural form, and where his body had once been solid and powerful, advanced age had taken away much of his strength and added weight in many places. He was smiling at the other changeling in the room he was having a conversation with, and this one immediately recognized the individual.

Cold Comfort, the changeling responsible for exiling this one from Freeport, sat on the couch opposite of him. He was also in his natural form, and he smiled in that frosty, detached smile of his. Despite his current lofty position, he hadn’t neglected himself; he was tall, and while slim, still muscular for his natural build, and he moved with a cool confident deliberateness.

Several questions immediately sprang to mind. Why was Cold here? Was this some sort of trick? Was Blackwing disguised as one of these people? This one had to force itself to stay calm. Showing fear or weakness would be a critical mistake in the face of an enemy.

Double was the first one to acknowledge this one’s arrival with a friendly wave. “Puzzle! It's good to see you.”

This one smiled, but it was a brittle thing with Cold there. “Double, it's been far too long.”

“That it has. Come on, sit down. Cold and I were just talking about...” Double’s friendly smile faded as he blinked a few times. “About... I'm sorry, I seem to have lost the thread.”

“The old days,” Cold said in an almost dismissive manner.

Double nodded. “Right right, the old days. That’s my problem these days, I keep finding myself thinking of the old days.”

In all honesty, Double had bigger problems now. Suddenly losing track of the conversation was an all too common occurrence for him. The doctors said it was dementia. Nowadays, Double’s mind belonged more to the past than the present; twenty-year-old memories were clear as day, but he couldn’t remember things that happened five minutes ago.

It was ... painful to see. What had once been a changeling with a powerful mind that could run an efficient spy organization like the Masks now needed nurses to make sure he took his pills on time and see him to bed. With hindsight, this one could see him showing some of the early symptoms of dementia shortly before it had been exiled from Freeport. At the time this one had dismissed the odd moments of forgetfulness for one reason or another, but when this one had returned to Freeport, it had discovered Double in his reduced state. It had been a difficult thing to come back to. After all Double had done for this one, this one was unable to do anything to help Double in return as he slowly lost the battle for his own mind.

Still, this one kept up its smile for his sake. This one owed him that much. “Yes, this one has plenty of fond memories, sir, especially when it comes to you.”

Double chuckled to himself as he poured himself a bit of rum. “Oh yes. Why, I remember when the both of you were still grubs going through training. Both so eager to please and prove yourselves.”

“To be fair, we had a lot to prove.” Cold turned his head slightly to look at this one with his peripheral vision. “And some of us wanted to climb higher than others.”

Cold hadn’t wasted any time launching some barbs, so this one started delivering some of its own. “Oh, this one wouldn't underestimate either of our ambitions. Young grubs always want to conquer the world.”

“We all have dreams. It's just a matter of whether they’re realistic, and what we're willing to do to achieve them.” Cold took a sip from his glass. “And if those ambitions are too indecent for their own good.”

He was one to talk of indecent ambition, given what he had done to this one and the Masks. “Naturally. Of course, too much ambition can lead to betraying one's friends and oneself.”

“And we can't have that,” Double said. “All things in moderation, as they say.”

If Cold was disturbed by this one's statements, he didn’t show it. “As you say, Double.” He cleared his throat. “Though if you'll accept this one's apology, this one would like to take this opportunity to talk with Puzzle for a few minutes. Business, you see.” Cold’s grin had a mocking edge to it. “Something an old changeling enjoying his well deserved retirement doesn't need to worry himself about.”

“Of course, this one understands.” Double stood. “I'll just be out back. You two can come outside when you're ready. This one will see if we can get some snacks as we talk. It’s been too long since the three of us got to have a friendly chat together.”

Cold and this one agreed to the idea, and Double shuffled out of the living room. Once he was gone, this one dropped the warmth from its voice. “Shall we drop the pretense of civility, then?”

“If you wish, old friend.” Cold took another sip from his glass before putting it down. “And no doubt you have a great many questions.”

So this one did. The question was whether Cold was inclined to answer any of those questions, and if he would answer honestly. “This one doesn't believe your presence here is a coincidence.”

“It's not,” Cold confirmed. “This one wanted to speak with you, but it was afraid you would make excuses for not wanting to meet with this one. You do always seem to be extremely busy whenever the Masks would like to hire your services. Even when all you’re doing is hanging out in that office of yours.” A mocking smirk tugged at his lips “When you still had one, anyway.”

This one didn’t rise to his bait. He was trying to throw this one off its game—make it emotional, keep it from thinking. This one had seen Cold in action more than enough times to know his tactics.

Though he was right about this one avoiding doing any kind of jobs for the Masks. Given this one’s history with Cold and the organization, this one wanted to avoid them whenever possible. In addition to the purely personal reasons it had, this one was suspicious whenever the Masks had a job. It would be like Cold to offer this one a job that was likely to get it killed, and this one didn’t feel like giving him the chance.

While the Council had occasionally forced this one to work with the Masks, this one tried to make those incidents as few and far between as possible. “This one admits, it’s a surprise to see you here,” this one said. “When’s the last time you even visited Double for its own sake?”

Cold’s eyes narrowed. “That is between the two of us.”

Now that this one had ruffled his feathers a bit, this one launched into a more serious question. “So where’s Blackwing? He was supposed to be here.”

Cold shrugged uncaringly and pulled out a letter that he tossed onto the surface of the coffee table. “This one is sorry to inform you that Blackwing won't be showing up to your little rendezvous.”

This one took the letter and read it quickly. It was in Blackwing’s writing, and in so many words, mocked this one for thinking that he’d be so stupid as to fall for a trap like this. Furthermore, he announced that we would be meeting one on one soon enough. “And how did you get your hooves on this?”

“Sour, Puzzle?” Cold’s frosty grin returned. “Do you think there is anything happening in Freeport this one doesn’t know about? We intercepted the message just like we do everything else of importance in this city.”

This was a disturbing revelation. How many of this one’s messages had Cold been intercepting? How much of this one’s mail was he reading? And if he could intercept this message...

This one shrugged, pretending that none of this was particularly bothersome. “Blackwing not wanting to meet with this one is hardly a surprise, but it was worth the effort to try. This one will find him soon enough.”

“The only question is if it will be soon enough.” Cold leaned back on the couch. “You've made quite a mess. Your lieutenants rebelling against you, chaos in the streets...” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “Quite disappointing for the changeling who describes himself as the premier information broker and problem solver in Freeport.”

“This one’s less than happy about it too,” this one said dryly.

“This one doesn't doubt it.” Cold tapped his forehooves together. “And if the Council had taken this one's advice and never let you come back from exile, this never would have happened to start with. Quite short-sighted on their part.”

This one wasn’t about to let him win this argument without a fight. “And then Metal Mome would have gotten away, the Old Mind’s attempt to infiltrate the islands might have succeeded, and countless other messes this one helped clean up would have come to pass.” This one decided to toss in one more barb, just to see how Cold would react. “Oh, and we wouldn't have a new wielder for Chainbreaker.”

Cold’s mask cracked as anger and hatred flashed in his eyes. “All problems this one could have dealt with if it had been given the chance.”

This one’s fangs showed in the smirk it gave Cold. “Like that little incident where you botched things up so badly that the Council brought this one back from exile despite your very vocal opposition? That was quite the mess this one had to clean up for you.”

Cold’s brow furrowed as he struggled to maintain his cool. Being someone who took great pride in his competence, he didn’t like to be reminded of past failures. “You’re one to talk about messing up given the mess you’ve created with your organization.”

“Ah, but did this one?” This one frowned as it sat down in Double’s chair and pondered for a moment. “Blackwing has always been ambitious, but he was loyal. This one doubts he would betray it without some outside encouragement.”

Cold snorted. “Or you screwed up trusting him. Or maybe your organization is such a shoddily put together operation that its fracturing was inevitable.”

This one didn’t let his venom distract it. “Or someone with considerable resources, money, and influence convinced him to go rogue. The thing with Blackwing is he’s never been particularly interested in running even his part of the organization, much less the rest of it. That fact has caused this one no small number of headaches, considering it has had to take a more direct role in controlling the intelligence wing of its organization than it really should have had to. No, he has a different motivation than just taking over the organization for its own sake.” This one’s eyes narrowed. “This one’s thinking that one of its enemies pushed him to turn on this one.”

Cold’s face might as well have been made of granite. “Of which you have many.”

“So this one does.” This one tilted its head to the side as it carefully watched Cold. “Like the changeling before it.”

Cold’s voice became icy as he replied. “Careful, Puzzle. You're coming dangerously close to saying something you can't take back. Accusing a special consultant to the Masks of engaging in a scheme that ended up causing chaos in the streets would have serious consequences.”

Cold being a special consultant to the Masks was a fiction. He was still the leader of the Masks in all but title. Officially, he had stepped down from the post and quit the Masks when he’d taken his current position. The Masks were supposed to be an independent organization responsible to the entire Council, not just to any one of its members, but Cold turned that rule on its head with a political fiction. The changeling officially at the head of the Masks was little more than Cold’s puppet, with his only real virtues being he was a mostly competent administrator and that he was completely loyal to Cold.

Still, this one had gotten what it wanted with the barb. “Did this one make such an accusation? It did not. Though it wonders why your mind immediately flew to such a scenario.”

Cold’s own fangs flashed at this one. “Because you have every motivation to sully this one's reputation thanks to our past history.”

“Don’t you put this one’s exile on this one. That happened because of your actions,” this one corrected as its body tensed. “That was your choice, and your choice alone. Don’t come crying to this one if you’re unhappy with the consequences.”

Cold scoffed. “You’re trouble; always have been, always will be. Quite simply, you don’t know your place in the world, and as a result you will always cause trouble. You’re plotting something, and this one knows it won’t be for anything good. This one did everyone a favor getting you out of Freeport.”

“More like this one was a threat to you and your power,” this one countered. “We both know who Double really wanted to succeed him in the Masks, and that’s always stuck in your craw. Hasn’t it?”

Cold wasn’t about to let this one have the last word. “And yet it was this one who succeeded Double and sent you packing. We both know who's the most powerful intelligence expert in this nation, now don’t we?”

“Yet you still see this one as a threat to all your ill-gotten gains.” This one leaned forward and smirked. “Tell this one: how much does it bother you that this one is now a close personal friend of the slayer of Blackfyre and wielder of Chainbreaker? Leaders of the Masks come and go, but legends like the Shimmer-mare...”

That brought a deep scowl out of Cold. As this one had surmised, there was something about the Shimmer-mare and Chainbreaker that profoundly bothered Cold. “You're getting ahead of yourself. Your Shimmer-mare is a long way from being a legend, and she has a great many pitfalls.” Cold leaned forward as well, his voice dripping venom as he spoke. “And this one is sure it doesn't have to remind you of how exactly the legend of Torch ends. There is a very good reason why it’s the Council that rules Freeport and not the descendants of Torch.”

This one flashed its fangs. “Think about which role you're casting yourself in with that comparison. If you fancy yourself the successor of the Necrocrats ... remember the end they met as well.”

Cold rolled his eyes. “Your example is hardly relevant. As you yourself pointed out during your last meeting with the Council, we’re a long way from how things were under the Necrocrats. You’re no idealistic revolutionary trying to free the slaves, and this one isn’t some megalomaniacal necromancer with delusions of grandeur.”

This one couldn’t ignore an opening like that. “True. You don't actually know necromancy.”

Something ugly flashed behind Cold’s eyes, and his voice became strained. “As fun as it is to trade barbs with you, this one did have a reason for going through all the trouble of arranging this meeting. It has to do with the collapse of your organization."

Content with having prodded Cold, and interested in what he had to say, this one nodded. “Do tell.”

Cold took a deep breath. “To get right to the point, this one is willing to offer you five million ducats for you to leave Freeport. For good.”

This one couldn’t help but give the proposal a scornful laugh. “Is that your game? You can’t force it out of Freeport so now you’re trying to bribe it? Don’t insult this one.”

Cold stiffened at this one’s laugh. “What this one is doing is offering a very reasonable proposal to bring this entire little crisis to an end. If you leave Freeport, then this one can convince the Council to allow the Masks to clean up your organization inside of an afternoon. Instead of allowing this chaos to go on and on, we can return peace to the streets and bring this farce to an end almost immediately.”

“Though that does bring up a question.” This one stroked its cheek. “Why hasn’t the Council let you just do that? During the months this one was gone, they had plenty of opportunities and reasons to do so. You certainly would have pushed for them to do just that. Yet they hadn’t. So why is that, Cold?”

Cold’s eyes narrowed. “This one isn’t at liberty to explain the Council’s motivations.”

This one snorted. Cold was throwing up smoke. “We both know that’s a load of horseapples. What’s the matter? You don’t like competing with the private market in the spy business? Because what does it say about you and the Masks when the Council decides it would rather pay this one to do a job than use their own intelligence agency?”

Cold put on a mask of careful neutrality, but this one could see the anger seething behind his mask. “The Council’s reasons are their own. Seven million ducats, you get on a ship as soon as possible and never come back.”

This one smirked as it enjoyed making Cold squirm. “So are you using your own money for this bribe, or are you using Mask funds?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because this one wants to know if you’re misappropriating Mask funds,” this one told him. “Considering the Council has made it clear they wish for this one to try to regain control of its organization, they might not appreciate you using allocated government funds to undercut their designs. What would they say if this one told them about this little meeting?”

“The Masks have considerable leeway in how they use their funds to accomplish our objectives,” Cold immediately shot back.

“‘Our’ objectives?” This one let those words hang in the air. “When did the objectives of the Masks and the Council become something different?”

Cold didn’t deign to answer this one’s question. “Ten million. Think of it this way: your organization is fractured, and you’ve nearly been killed multiple times already trying to put the pieces back together. Now would be a very good opportunity to buy out of this predicament you put yourself into. As things stand, you might be killed by one of your lieutenants or a rival, not to mention the Council’s patience will eventually come to an end, and quicker than you would like now that the street war is heating up thanks to your return. If you take this money, this one promises that your legal assets here in Freeport will be left alone and that you’ll be allowed to keep making a profit off of them. Take this one’s deal, and move someplace else in the world and live a nice, long, comfortable life. It’s the best deal you’re ever going to get.”

Those were all good points, but this one wasn’t really interested in money. Oh sure, money was immensely useful for this one’s goals—that’s why this one had accumulated as much wealth as it had. But there was a big difference between accumulating wealth because it served a purpose and just making money for the sake of having more money.

But then, Cold always did have a bit of trouble really understanding what motivates people. This one couldn't help but pull Cold’s tail a little. It paid to keep someone like him guessing what this one was really up to and why. “For ten million? Come on, this one’s insulted, it’s worth more than that. You belong to one of the great magnate families of Freeport, and ten million is the best you can come up with? What’s the matter, has your family hit on hard times?”

This one heard Cold’s teeth grinding together. “Fifteen million.”

“Better, but not quite where this one wants to be.” This one flashed its teeth in a smirk. “Sure, things look dire right now, but this one has a way of pulling victory out of the jaws of defeat. It’s one of the many reasons why Double prefered this one over you. This one excels under pressure, where you tend to fold. This one already has the Alya-mare back under its hoof, and—”

Cold surprised this one when he started chuckling. “The Alya-mare is back under your control? Is that what you think?”

This one frowned, not liking the feeling for where this was going. “What are you talking about?”

“What this one is saying is that you shouldn’t be so quick to trust the Alya-mare.” Cold stood up and walked up to this one. “You’ve been gone for a long time and are still out of the loop. True, you have a long history with the Alya-mare, but time has a way of eroding even the strongest of bonds. Especially when they’ve been neglected due to distance and ... other priorities taking precedent. Tell this one, how has the Alya-mare been feeling about all the time and effort you’ve been putting into the Shimmer-mare, and that Equestrian spy you’re sleeping with?”

This one rolled its eyes. “Don’t play games with this one. It isn’t so stupid as to fall into rampant paranoia just because you cast a little suspicion. This one works with facts, and unless you’ve got something concrete you can cut the horseapples.”

“Oh, this one has something concrete for you. Consider this little nugget to be a personal favor as one former Mask agent to another.” Cold leaned in to whisper into this one’s ear. “The Alya-mare knows where the Penny-mare is.”

This one kept a very careful mask on as its heart skipped a beat. A dozen questions started whirling in this one’s head: Was this true? Was Cold lying? Why was he telling this one this? Was he trying to stir the pot to try and create a destructive rift between this one and the Alya-mare? How should this one react to this news? Did the Alya-mare really know where this one’s secretary was? Was she actually behind the kidnapping, or did she merely know who had the Penny-mare?

When this one didn’t immediately react, Cold smirked and patted this one on the shoulder. “Twenty million ducats. That is this one’s final offer. See this one by the end of the day if you’re interested.”

At that, he left the living room to head out to the back. This one stood there in silence as its thoughts whirled. A whole range of possibilities and questions danced, facts were put together, disassembled, and then put back together in new patterns, only for the whole process to be restarted.

This one’s steps were leaden when it eventually brought itself to follow Cold. Double was sitting on his porch, a book and a cup of rum sitting on a stand next to him as he watched the rain fall on the beach and the ocean beyond. During a sunny day the scenery could be a welcome sight, but at that moment the gloom and rain dampened the effect. Cold made his final goodbyes to Double before departing, taking most of the Mask agents with him.

When Cold was gone, Double turned to this one. “You going to make your goodbyes as well?”

This one took a deep breath. “Sorry. This one wishes it could stay, but something just came up.”

Double shrugged, his ears slightly drooped. “As such things tend to do. It’s nice to get to see you now and again, you know.”

A pang of guilt ran through this one. It had been months since this one had last seen Double, and after barely a hoofful of words with its old mentor this one was already departing. Time and its constant, inexorable march forward always felt like this one’s bane. Every second opportunities passed, limiting this one’s options, taking away all this one wanted to do. “This one knows. It’ll try and visit you again soon, once things settle down a bit.”

Double smiled at this one. “See that you do. An old changeling like this one likes to see his protegees now and again, you know.” His smile disappeared as he watched Cold and his followers slowly disappear into the gloom. “You know, this one has never entirely trusted him. This one isn’t convinced he really has Freeport’s best interests at heart.”

“Then why did you promote him as much as you did?” This one tried to keep its voice even, but only partially succeeded. Given everything that had happened, it was difficult not to feel bitter. Cold had derailed this one’s entire life by sending it into exile. This one had gone from having a successful career in a job it loved to being shunted off to the most irrelevant speck on the map Cold could find with a small army’s worth of bounty hunters and assassins on its trail. Perhaps if Double hadn’t trusted Cold with as much power as he had, then maybe this one wouldn’t have used up precious years of its life in exile. There was so much good this one could have done as the head of the Masks. This one could have stabbed right into the heart of the corruption plaguing Freeport and set up plans to reform this one’s home.

But now, that was never going to happen. Cold had seen to that.

Instead, this one had spent those long years in exile, and Cold had successfully purged the Masks of anyone he didn’t trust. A lot of competent agents had lost their jobs or worse; the Masks was still an organization to be reckoned with, but Cold’s leadership had reduced it from the heights it had reached under Double. When personal loyalty was considered the most important quality of an agent, the quality of work being done was going to suffer to a degree. Not to mention the ends they were working towards these days.

While this one treasured its time adventuring with the Do-mare, it wasn’t hard to see that period of this one’s life as an interruption to some degree. Even once this one returned to Freeport, it took years of hard work to build up this one’s resources, contacts, wealth, and influence. Even then, there had been delays, missed opportunities, and setbacks that ate up this one’s limited time. Tick, tick, tick, how long before this one got itself killed, or grew so old that it ended up like Double? What then for all this one’s work? What would this one have to show for it? Would an organization eating itself alive be this one’s legacy to the world? Was this one doomed to have Cold get the last laugh in this grand play where this one fought a hopeless battle against time and entropy?

Double swirled his drink, slow to answer. After several moments he turned to this one. “This one is sorry. What was that? This one’s hearing isn’t what it once was.”

This one kept its patience with its old, ailing mentor. “Why did you promote Cold when you didn’t trust him.”

“Ah. Him.” Double sipped his drink. “Politics is the short of it. He had powerful patrons who wanted to see him promoted. That, and he is a good agent. One of the best this one ever trained. He was useful, and so this one used him.”

“Yes, that does make some sense.” Cold did belong to an old and powerful family, the type of family that could pull strings to get things done in Freeport. It was a big part of the reason why he had ascended as high as he had. Where this one came from relatively humble origins, he’d had all the influence he needed built right into his family. There was more to everything than simple family connections, but it played an important part.

“Don’t worry too much about it.” Double waved the issue off and turned to watch the rain fall. “Everything will be alright as long as he isn’t put in charge of the Masks, and that won’t be happening as long as this one has a say in it.” This one winced as Double took a sip of his drink. “This one has high hopes in you, Puzzle. This one knows you can make a difference out there.”

This one's ears flattened. Those words tore at this one. What would Double have thought of everything if he could see it with a clear and healthy mind? How ashamed would he be of this one? “Thank you, sir.”

“That reminds this one. You need to ... to...” Double frowned as he blinked a few times. “This one is sorry, what were we talking about again?”

This one’s throat tightened as Double slipped a little more into the past and beyond this one’s reach. “The old days. We were talking about the old days.”

“Of course, of course.” He smiled paternally. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I met your dad?”

“No,” this one lied, letting him slip into better times.

Double chuckled to himself. “It’s quite the story. It was at the Callipso’s Brothel, and this one was following up a lead on an alchemist who was selling to someone this one was after. It was as this one was speaking with the madam of the house when...”

This one half listened to the story it had heard multiple times as it thought long and hard about what it was going to say to the Alya-mare about the Penny-mare.

Fidelity

This one returned to the Alya-mare’s safehouse with its Companion escorts after departing Double’s home. This one wasn’t looking forward to the conversation it needed to have with the Alya-mare, but this one doubted Cold would have told this one that she knew about what had happened to the Penny-mare if it hadn’t been true. True, he might just be trying to send this one in circles with a lie, but such a thing would be a mere irritation and waste some time. Unless he had another time-sensitive plan in motion, he was most likely telling the truth.

This one was careful to put on a neutral mask as it entered the warehouse. To this one’s relief, it saw several Companion guards around the warehouse. The Alya-mare was busy talking with several of her employees about moving some product around to try and earn some money again. This one waited until she was done before approaching her. “Alya-mare, this one hopes you got a good night's sleep?”

“Not really.” She sighed and ran a hoof down her face. There were still heavy bags under her eyes, and she still sounded like someone who was, at the very least, in serious risk of burnout. “Hard to sleep with all this going on.”

This one didn’t want to hear that. We needed her alert and awake, not on the verge of physical or psychological collapse. “Hopefully we can do something about your stress here soon. The Companions being stationed here should help keep this place more secure, at the least.”

The Alya-mare yawned as she nodded. “Of course, it needed to be done.”

“That’s why this one wanted them in place,” this one said. “How is everything else going?”

The Alya-mare took a couple seconds to answer. “Stressful, but nothing's on fire.”

“And with any luck we can keep it that way.” This one gave her a smile to try and give her some confidence. “And there might be some good news: the Gustav-gryph is willing to meet with this one. We’re going to talk at his club in a few hours.”

Instead of showing any kind of relief like this one was hoping, the Alya-mare scowled. “It’s probably a trap.”

This one shrugged. “Perhaps, but the first step to avoiding a trap is to know it exists, and this one is making preparations in the event he tries something.”

The Alya-mare’s scowl deepened. “He's going to be ready for that. After working with you for years, he knows your tricks and how you operate.”

“Perhaps, but he’s also going to know the cost of starting trouble at the Goldtalon-gryph’s club,” this one pointed out. “There’s little point in winning a battle if it costs you the war. He could ambush this one at the club, but starting a fight where there will be so many influential people trying to enjoy an evening could easily cause the Council to come down on his head.”

She didn’t seem convinced as she pressed the point. “So he'll probably try to hit you before or after then, or make it look like you started it. Or something else.”

This one wondered why the Alya-mare was pressing so hard. Was it because of her harsh experiences over the past few months, or did she just not want this one to meet the Gustav-gryph? Not that she was wrong about this having a significant element of risk. Just because it would be stupid to start something at the club didn’t preclude the Gustav-gryph from trying it anyway, and he could always try something before or afterwards like the Alya-mare said. Still, this one considered it worth the potential risks if it could help this one more quickly end the infighting within this one’s organization.

“Perhaps or perhaps not. This one hopes he’ll be willing to deal with this one, and if not...” This one ran a hoof over one of the daggers at its side. “This one will make him regret betraying it.”

The Alya-mare ran a hoof through her mane. “Just be careful. You can't trust him or believe anything he says.”

This one smiled and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “This one’s been playing this game for a long time. Yes, this is risky, but if it helps us end this conflict quickly then it’ll be worth it.”

The Alya-mare sighed. “Your call, though I think it's a really bad idea.” She looked away from this one and lowered her voice. “I wish you'd trust me a bit more.”

“What would you suggest this one do then?”

The Alya-mare’s eyes hardened. “Kill your enemies instead of trying to talk to them.”

“This one's going to crack down on killing Blackwing here soon,” this one pointed out. “Give this one a couple of days and it will have dozens of mercenaries hunting him down.”

“Sounds nice, but I'll feel a lot better once he's a corpse.” She frowned. “Though you very specifically didn’t mention Gustav.”

This one shrugged. “That depends on what he does during the meeting. Once this one knows where he stands then this one can decide how best to act.”

The Alya-mare shook her head. “Just be careful. If you go down, you take me with you.”

“With any luck this will be the last time this one exposes itself,” it tried to assure her. “If things start look questionable out there then this one will be out of there in a second. This one hasn’t lived as long as it has without having good instincts for when things are about to go bad.”

She rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “Let’s hope that will be enough.”

This one shifted topics. “Though on a different matter, this one wanted to discuss what we would do any prisoners we caught. Considering we were planning on bringing those mercenaries we captured in the restaurant back here, this one imagines you had a place to put them.”

The Alya-mare nodded. “This warehouse has a few smuggler holes that we could repurpose as makeshift prison cells.”

This one gave her a smile that it wasn’t at all feeling as it slowly laid its trap. “That sounds good. They are secure, and if you line their interiors with sandbags you can insulate them to make them relatively soundproof. After all, you don’t want someone inconvenient to hear that someone is in the smuggling hole.”

“That is the idea,” the Alya-mare agreed. “You were the one that taught me that trick.”

“So this one was,” this one agreed. “Mind if we examined them? This one wants to see what we have to work with in the event we take some more prisoners.”

The Alya-mare froze for the briefest of moments before she brought herself to respond. “Yeah, sure. Over here.” She led the way to a section of the warehouse where the smuggling holes had been dug beneath the floor. They were hard to spot under the floorboards unless you knew what to look for, but this one had more than enough experience with smuggling to know all the usual tricks. The Alya-mare waved at a trio of holes. “Here they are. You can check them out if you want.”

This one considered examining the smuggling holes, but then it spotted a carpet nearby that was probably hiding a fourth one. This one could even spot the lines on the floor where the carpet had been moved. “What about that one?”

The Alya-mare went still as her eyes flicked towards it. “Huh? Nothing there. That's just a carpet.”

This one’s eyes narrowed and it kicked the edge of the carpet so that it folded over to reveal the telltale signs of a smuggling hole. “Just a carpet?”

The Alya-mare’s ears wilted as her lie was laid bare. “Look, before you jump to any crazy conclusions, let me explain...”

This one crossed its legs over it chest. “Explain what?”

The Alya-made sighed. “Merry Penny was working with Gustav—I didn't have a choice.”

The Penny-mare had been working with the Gustav-gryph? Was that true? If it was then why had the Alya-mare hidden her? “You kidnapped this one's secretary and you didn't tell this one. You had a choice about that.”

The Alya-mare couldn’t meet this one's gaze as she spoke. “I was gonna tell you once things settled down.”

This one shook its head, unsure if it could believe her. “Were you? Or was the Penny-mare going to quietly disappear?”

The Alya-mare rubbed her upper leg. “I was scared you wouldn’t understand, and of what you would do if you found out what I did. You like Merry and trust her. For our meeting I was worried you’d take it badly if I told you the truth right away.”

This one snorted. “You think this one wouldn’t hear you out?”

“I didn’t want to take the chance when I was already on the verge of losing this street war.” The Alya-mare’s shadowed eyes fell on the smuggling hole that held the Penny-mare. “And you’ve ... dealt with those who’ve done less than what I did. I was scared you might have decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble of keeping around.”

This one tried to calm its thoughts and think clearly as it pushed down its anger. “You’re making it very difficult to trust you right now.”

“And what about her?!” The Alya-mare jabbed a hoof at the smuggling hole door. “She betrayed you for Gustav. She burned down your home and your office for the insurance money so she could keep Gustav financed and in the fight he started.”

This one felt a stab to its heart. This one’s home had been burned down? This one’s office going down in flames had been bad enough, but its home too... How much of this one’s property was still left after its long absence?

“And why would she do that?” this one demanded. “Sure she and the Gustav-gryph got along, but there’s a big difference between being friends and becoming cohorts in a street war.”

She nodded to where the Penny-mare was being held prisoner. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

This one decided to do just that, and waved for the Arrow-stallion to open the smuggling hole. “Sergeant, if you’ll get her out of there.”

“Yes sir.” The Arrow-stallion and one of the other Companions pulled up the door, and the sergeant stepped down inside. Less than a minute later he was helping the Penny-mare up out of the hole. She had seen better days: the grime on her coat and her tangled mane indicated that it had been some time since she’d last had a bath.

When the Penny-mare saw this one, her eyes lit up and she ran to embrace this one, though this one’s guards grabbed and restrained her from doing so. “Puzzle! You’re back!”

“Don’t be so happy Puzzle’s returned, traitor,” the Alya-mare said, her voice as cold as a Northmarch winter.

The Penny-mare’s eyes hardened as she glared at the Alya-mare. “You’re the one that betrayed him, you bitch!” She turned back to this one. “Puzzle, don’t believe whatever she’s telling you. She kidnapped me! Gustav and I are the ones that are still loyal to you.”

“Oh you’re the loyal one, are you?” The Alya-mare scoffed. “Is that why you burned down his house and business for the insurance money?”

“I didn’t!” The Penny-mare tried to pull herself away from the guards to get closer to me, but the Companions held her fast. “I don’t know who burned down your home, Puzzle. Though I’m willing to bet it was Alya, or maybe even Blackwing.” Her eyes narrowed at the Alya-mare. “And you were the one to burn down the office. You and your goons set the whole place alight when you kidnapped me.”

“As if I’d do that.” The Alya-mare swiveled her head to this one. “Your office was already on fire when I got there. An informant of mine told me Merry was in the office, and when we went there there wasn’t a scrap of furniture anywhere. Even all the safes you had in there were empty.”

“Only because you’d cut off Gustav’s funds, you whorse!” the Penny-mare shot back.

The Alya-mare rolled her eyes. “Why would I fund his attempts to take over the organization?!”

“Take over the organization?” The Penny-mare barked out a laugh. “As if! You’re the one that started all of this when you threatened to cut off Gustav’s funds unless he did what you wanted him to do. You just wanted the organization for yourself!”

The Alya-mare’s hoof lashed out and slapped the Penny-mare across the face. “You liar! You spend so much time in Gustav's bed you don't even bother thinking for yourself anymore!”

“You heartless, backstabbing nag!” The Penny-mare spat in the Alya-mare’s face.

This one stepped between them and waved for its guards to put some distance between the two mares. To a degree, this one had been content to let the two of them yell at one another in order to gather more intel, but this one had to step in before they ripped each other’s throats out. “That's enough!”

So, both of them were claiming to be loyal to this one. This one tried to put its personal feelings aside to try and look at the situation rationally. They both had motives for claiming to be so, especially the Penny-mare when she was at this one’s mercy. From the sounds of things, at some point the Alya-mare and the Gustav-gryph had come into conflict and the Alya-mare had threatened to cut off the Gustav-gryph’s funding. A critical problem for him when he needed that money to pay for his soldiers. Though it was still unclear who had started it, and this one doubted whoever wasn’t telling the truth would suddenly change their tune without pressure being put on them. Still, it was worth seeing what else this one could get out of them. Given their heightened emotional states, they might let something slip.

This one faced the Penny-mare. “So it’s true you’re working with the Gustav-gryph?”

The Penny-mare sniffed and nodded. “Y-yes I was helping him, but he didn’t want to get into a big fight with everyone! That was all Alya’s doing. She was trying to take over everything for herself! She tried to leverage her control over the organization’s finances to make Gustav bend the knee to her.”

“Please, I only started cracking the whip when he started trying to throw his weight around.” The Alya-mare crossed her legs over her chest. “Your boyfriend was the one who attacked first, and I’ve just been trying to keep him from ruining everything.”

“Wait, boyfriend?” This one frowned as the Penny-mare flinched at the question, then blinked when it noticed the love emanating from her. It was the affection one had for a lover, but the Penny-mare hadn’t been in love when this one had left Freeport. “You and Gustav are dating? When did this start happening?”

The Alya-mare flashed a smile that wasn’t at all pleasant to look at. “Now there’s a good question. One second.” She walked away and rummaged through a chest for a moment, pulling out a necklace that she then presented to this one. “She was using this to hide it from you.”

This one took the necklace and studied it. This one recognized the necklace as belonging to the Penny-mare. It had a minor luck enchantment placed on it, so this one hadn’t considered it odd that she always seemed to be wearing it. But after studying the necklace closely this one noticed that there was an additional enchantment on the jewelry: one intended to prevent a changeling from sensing love.

This one’s teeth started grinding together. Yet more lies and deception within this one’s organization. “You were hiding your relationship with the Gustav-gryph?”

The Penny-mare’s shoulders hunched. “W-we were worried you'd react badly. Puzzle, please understand, I really like being your secretary. We were worried that I might lose my job due to a conflict of interests if it got out that we were dating, so Gustav got me the necklace to hide the fact we love one another. We didn’t think it’d be a huge deal! At the time we weren’t even sure if this was something that would last.”

The Alya-mare glowered at her. “Please. You were just sharpening your knife and waiting for a chance to plant it in Puzzle's back so your lover could take over the organization.”

The Penny-mare shook her head. “No! She's lying, Puzzle! Gustav was just protecting himself and his part of the organization.”

The Alya-mare corrected her glasses. “If all you wanted to do was protect yourselves, you went about it in a very strange way. You and your boy-toy have done a lot of damage to the organization and to Puzzle himself. You’ve smashed half of our businesses, sold off or destroyed Puzzle’s property, and got us on the bad side of the Council. You even sold Puzzle’s yacht!”

This one blinked at that. “Wait, she did what?!” This one’s yacht was one of the few luxuries it had granted itself. The thought of losing the Trustworthy wrenched at this one’s guts.

“Oh, it gets better from there.” The Alya-mare’s lips twisted into a nasty smile. “You need to hear who she sold the Trustworthy to: Cold Comfort.”

For a moment, this one didn’t understand what the Alya-mare said. Cold now owned this one’s ship? No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a lie. But one look at the Penny-mare’s face confirmed the truth. She winced when the Alya-mare had said Cold’s name, and now she couldn’t bring herself to meet this one’s eyes

This one started trembling as a terrible pressure built up in its chest. “You sold its ship to Cold?!” this one bellowed. “This one can't believe you! Where did you get off selling this one's yacht to Cold?! After all this one has done for you, this is how you repay it?!”

This one could imagine Cold’s smug smile. He knew about this, all of this, and he wanted to rub this one’s nose in the fact he had stolen this one’s ship right out from under it. Cold was going to brag about this for years, and every time this one looked out into Freeport Harbor it was going to see its stolen ship and be unable to do anything about it. This one had lost its home, its office, and now its yacht. Did this one have anything to its name now?

All it wanted was one little yacht that it had worked hard to earn, and a nice small home to enjoy at the end of a long day. Was it so wrong for it to keep that much?

The Penny-mare tried to wilt from this one, but this one’s escorts held her fast. “B-but we needed the money to—“

“No!” This one snapped and jabbed her with a hoof. “This one trusted you, both of you, and you deceived it!This one trusted all of you with its organization, and look at the mess all of you caused! A few months away and this one finds all of you at each other’s throats and tearing down everything it built. This one should never have hired any of you!” This one’s eyes narrowed as its throat let out a growl. “It was a mistake to ever take you into this one’s confidence.”

The Alya-mare moved to stand by this one’s side. “What can you expect from traitors?”

“Puzzle ... you can’t listen to her.” The Penny-mare sobbed, tears running down her face. “Please, I’m not your enemy!”

This one stepped away from her and shook its head. This one was done talking with her for now. “Sergeant, place her under guard. This one will figure out what to do with her later.”

“Yes sir.” The Arrow-stallion pulled the Penny-mare to the side to start talking with his fellow Companions and make arrangements for the Penny-mare’s imprisonment.

Once they were out of earshot, the Alya-mare nodded to it. “What do you plan on doing with her?”

That was a very good question, but this one wanted to wait until it had had time to cool down before it made a decision. The Penny-mare may have betrayed this one’s trust, but a corner of this one’s mind reminded it that she might have had good reasons for doing so. If the Alya-mare had tried to take over the organization while this one was away then the Gustav-gryph would have desperately needed money very quickly, and when one was fighting for survival then a great many options could be put on the table. Not that this one was ever going to be thrilled with all the property it had lost. And that assumed the Penny-mare was being honest.

The problem was this one didn’t trust anyone anymore. Both the Penny-mare and the Alya-mare claimed they were loyal to this one, but they had come to fight one another for control of the organization.

That could mean a couple of things: either the Gustav-gryph or the Alya-mare were lying to this one, or they were simply fighting one another because they wanted to expand their influence within the organization.

And what role did Blackwing play in this? Neither the Penny-mare or the Alya-mare had mentioned him during their fight. Had they simply forgotten about him during their argument, or was there something else there?

The Alya-mare had lied to this one, even if she might have had good reasons for doing so. In any event, she was on the in while the Penny-mare was on the outs. Though this one had to wonder how it would all turn out in the end. There was still much this one didn’t know, and thus far everyone around it had proven untrustworthy.

“We’ll just hold onto her for now,” this one decided. “This one will decide what to do with her after thinking about it for a bit.”

“Alright then.” The Alya-mare frowned. “Though I hope all of this proved that Gustav can’t be trusted, and that meeting with him is a bad idea.”

This one shook its head. “This one is still meeting him. There’s still a lot this one might be able to learn by talking to him, and it might even be able to convince him to stand down. This one can point out that it has the resources to crush him. This one has the money to hire a fresh merc company while his own mercs and coin must be exhausted after six months of street fighting.”

“Or he’ll try and take you out to preemptively prevent you from crushing him,” the Alya-mare countered. “He knows the score. His only way to beat you is kill you, and you’re presenting him with a golden opportunity to do that.” Her frown deepened. “And you still don’t seem to be convinced that he’s your enemy. Remember how he sent those mercenaries after us?”

“We’re not sure that they were Gustav’s people,” this one said.

The Alya-mare grimaced and her ears flattened. “What are you saying? That you think I set up a false flag? I thought I'd earned a bit of trust after how long I've worked for you, and how loyal I've been all these years.” She looked away from. “I guess I was wrong.”

This one took a deep breath as a stab of guilt ran through this one. Little surprise, the Alya-mare didn’t like the suggestion that this one thinks she might be lying. Though she had lied to this one a few minutes ago... “What this one is saying is that it doesn't know what to think until it has more intel. It could be those mercs were lying to you and setting up a false trail for us to follow. If Blackwing hired them then he could have told them to blame Gustav-gryph for the attack, or someone else could have hired them and done the same. So this one wants to give the Gustav-gryph one chance to step back from the cliff.”

This one flashed her a grin. “Besides, now this one has a hostage to use against him. If they are lovers, then the Gustav-gryph should be willing to go through a lot to get the Penny-mare back.” This one frowned as it thought of something. “Though that does raise the question of why you didn’t do that yourself.”

The Alya-mare let out an annoyed huff. “I tried that when I captured her. I said I’d kill her if Gustav didn’t give up, but he didn’t and the street war kept right on going. He must have just been using Merry and was stringing her along while pretending to love her. He’s not the type of person that can coldly allow the mare he loves to die like that.”

This one pressed its lips together as it mulled that over. “But the Penny-mare is still alive even when Gustav didn’t give in. Not following through with threats is a good way for enemies not to take you seriously.”

“I didn’t...” The Alya-mare trailed off before shuffling in place. “I was worried about how you would react if you heard I had killed Merry. Look how much trouble it caused when I’d just captured her, even after all she’s done. How would you have acted if I had actually killed her? I figured once things settled down you’d be able to interrogate her and find out the truth yourself, so I just locked her away and called it good while I waited for you to return.”

“Alright then.” This one leaned against a crate as it gathered its thoughts. “Still, she might be useful. We’ll see.”

“How can I help, partner? If you’re going to insist on being a big dummy about this, then I can play my part to try and pull your bacon out of the fire.”

This one considered how it could keep her busy, and thought of something useful she could do. “This one has a list of people it wants to meet, and this one would like for you to schedule the appointments. We need people who can hunt down Blackwing.” This one frowned. “And deal with Gustav, if need be.”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

This one nodded. “Jump on that. This one needs to clean up for a meeting.”

Considering this one’s home had been burned down for what was sounding like insurance fraud, this one made do with the Companion’s office to clean up and make itself presentable. It had been a trick to find an appropriate outfit for the occasion, but ultimately this one had found an azure jacket with fur trim, a white shirt with frills along the sleeves, and a matching pair of azure pants. The person who had commissioned the outfit had refused to pay for it upon its completion, but with a bit of transforming it fit this one just fine. That was fortunate. The Goldtalon-gryph’s club served the cream of the crop of society, and it wouldn’t due to appear as a pauper. This one had owned outfits appropriate for such places, but they had gone up in flames like so many of this one’s possessions.

This one wanted to lash out over what it had lost. It would be so easy to give in to this one’s base instincts and drench itself in the blood of its enemies. This one knew how to kill, and in such a plentiful number of ways. Stabbing, bludgeoning, drowning, poisoning, strangling, accidents—the list went on and on. If this one wanted to, it could cause this whole city to fall into chaos. And it was oh so tempting to take the easy route and just eliminate all of its lieutenants to give itself a fresh start, especially after recent developments.

But this one reminded itself that it wasn’t that type of changeling. It wanted to make Freeport a better place, and there were better ways to solve its problems than with violence. Or so this one hoped. For the past couple of days this one couldn’t help but wonder if it was a particularly clever fool.

Once the appointed hour came, a carriage arrived at the Companions’ office, and this one transformed into its roguish zony disguise for the occasion. The Companions made sure that there wasn’t any kind of trap before allowing this one to enter the carriage, and we then made our way to the Golden Ducat. The jazz club was a large building, its front made of white marble with great pillars decorating its exterior. Beyond the entry gate was an elaborate fountain with marble sirens at its center, and a rich garden laid out in a patchwork of squares led the way to the building.

This one’s escorts made a show of making sure that there wasn’t any ambush lying in wait. They were just as aware of the risks of this rendezvous as this one, and it wasn’t until they were as sure as they could be that it was safe before this one was allowed out of the carriage. Not that Goldtalon was bound to allow any of his guests to be harmed. Goldtalon’s own guards prowled the property, making sure no one could cause trouble, and helping guests when needed. Dressed in gold-painted armor with baggy black-and-white striped shirts and pants, they were well paid for their loyalty and discretion. They took particular note of this one as it approached the gate of the club. Little surprise, if there was going to be trouble tonight then this one was probably going to be at the center of it.

This one passed through the arches of the doorway to enter the club. A band was playing on a central stage, swaying to a catchy jazz tune, and around the stage was a marble-tiled dance floor where several couples were enjoying themselves. Much of the rest of the interior was filled with tables being served by attentive waiters as the finely dressed elite of Freeportian society ate, drank, and talked. The architecture and decorations of the club were all intended to speak to the Goldtalon-gryph’s considerable wealth. Statues and paintings lined the walls, and the pillars supporting the roof had flowered vines carved into them.

This one didn’t get far into the club before a familiar face approached it. The Goldtalon-gryph was a portly gryphon who tried to hide his girth inside long flowing robes of midnight blue silk, and was wearing enough jewelry to make any pirate king jealous. He flashed this one a wide smile as he approached and spoke in a tone as though we were old friends meeting for the first time in many years. “Puzzle, my old friend! It’s so good to see you!” We shook hoof and claw before the Goldtalon-gryph wrapped this one up in a hug that this one made itself go along with. As was the Goldtalon-gryph’s way, he liked to be overly familiar with his guests.

“It’s good to see you too,” this one said as it patted his back. “This one trusts you’re well?”

The Goldtalon-gryph nodded. “As well as I can be, though by the sound of things you’re in a bit of a spot.” He loudly cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, but word gets around, and I do learn things through the grapevine.”

This one didn’t let its discomfort over recent events show on its face despite the fact the Goldtalon-gryph had just poked a recent wound. “It’s quite alright, and with any luck some of those troubles can be fixed here, assuming the Gustav-gryph has arrived.”

“He has, he has. Come with me, I’ll show you to the booth he’s sitting at.” The Goldtalon-gryph started leading the way before leaning in to speak more quietly. “And I trust you two will behave while in my establishment? I realize you two are in a bit of a tiff, and while I’m always happy to arrange meetings between, I don’t want my other guests to be disturbed when most of them are just looking for a nice evening out.”

“This one completely understands.” Indeed this one did. In and of itself, the Golden Ducat wasn’t much of a profit maker for the Goldtalon-gryph, at least in comparison to his other enterprises. The real value of the Golden Ducat was how it let the Goldtalon-gryph network within Freeport society. It was one of the reasons why he let this one meet with the Gustav-gryph in his establishment, being a neutral meeting place for people as highly placed as this one made it all the more important within Freeport society. The Goldtalon-gryph had great skill in collecting objects to sell in his auctions or even in private transactions, and the club helped him find both buyers and sellers. As a de facto place of business, one of the last things he wanted was for the Golden Ducat to become a battlefield.

Well, besides the little fighting pit he had out back, but that was for in the event a couple of his patrons thought the only way to deal with some dispute was through a measured amount of bloodshed, or to host a little bit of more sanguinary entertainment for his guests.

That aside, he definitely didn’t want anything ruining the evening for his fine guests when it could destroy the reputation of his establishment. In addition to his guards, he had other ways to mark his displeasure. All his networking made him a very influential gryphon in Freeport, and anyone that started a fight here could easily find themselves on the bad side of the Council.

“If there’s going to be trouble, this one won’t be the cause of it,” this one assured him. “This one can’t speak for the Gustav-gryph, but this one imagines you’ve had a word with him as well.”

“Just a couple.” The Goldtalon-gryph waved to a booth. “He’s right over there. I’ve made arrangements to make sure you two can speak alone.”

Indeed, this one could feel the magic around the booth to help keep anyone from listening in on us. Given one of the functions of the club was to allow the Goldtalon-gryph to facilitate meetings, it wasn’t surprising to see he had arrangements to allow for private conversations.

At that we parted company, leaving this one to deal with the Gustav-gryph. This one could see him at the booth, and a squad of his guards standing nearby.

“Ready, Sergeant?” this one asked.

The Arrow-stallion’s eyes examined the area for any threats, and took particular attention of the Gustav-gryph’s guards. “As I’ll ever be, sir.”

This one could sense that he wasn’t entirely happy with this plan, but this one had come too far to back down now. This one didn’t see anything that seemed out of place, but just because this one didn’t see a threat didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It might have been foolish to start a fight here, but just because something was foolish didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

But this one couldn’t allow itself to seem afraid, so it approached the booth with confident steps. The Gustav-gryph was in his own black-and-white suit tailored in the elaborate Westmarch fashion, with his high collar and fashioned buttons on the front. When he looked up at this one it saw the bags under his eyes, and while he tried to keep up his usual jovial attitude, it was clear his spirit wasn’t in it. “Puzzle, have a seat. We went to a lot of trouble to set this meeting up.”

“So we did. This one hopes this will be a pleasant meeting.” This one moved to sit opposite of the Gustav-gryph but then pointedly stopped short of actually doing so. “This one would be most upset if you were to break the truce. Especially in such a public place, and in the middle of the establishment of such a well-connected individual as the Goldtalon-gryph.”

The Gustav-gryph let out a breath and shook his head. “The last thing I want is to start a fight with you.”

That response made this one curious, and it sat down. “Is that so? That's quite the thing to claim given the circumstances.”

The Gustav-gryph snorted derisively. “Let me guess: Alya said I was plotting to murder you and take over the entire organization for myself?”

“In so many words, yes.” The question of the hour was whether it was true, and this one carefully studied the Gustav-gryph’s body language as we talked.

“Well, that's not the case.” He picked up his glass and took a swig before continuing. “Honestly, at this point I'd like to just call the whole thing off.”

This one raised an eyebrow. “What whole thing?”

“Let's just say the last few months have made me reevaluate some life choices.” The Gustav-gryph’s wings wilted. “Especially after Merry died because of this stupid war. After that bitch Alya killed her, it hardly seems worth fighting.”

This one believed him, at least the part about loving the Penny-mare. The love he felt was as real as any this one had felt, and it was laced with the pain of loss. What’s more, the Gustav-gryph had never been a particularly good liar. He was quite competent muscle, but he left most of the skullduggery to this one and its lieutenants. Still, it would be best to learn as much as it could from him to see how much aligned with what the Alya-mare and the Penny-mare said.

“From the sounds of things the Penny-mare was guilty of betraying this one's trust,” this one said in a neutral tone. “For one, you hid the fact that you two were intimate.”

He winced as though slapped. “Alya told you about that, did she? Well, what am I supposed to say? We wanted to be discreet. Merry was scared she’d lose her job if you found out we were together, so we kept it secret. It wasn’t like we were hurting anyone. We weren’t even sure if things would work out when we first started dating, so it didn’t feel like something worth killing her job over. Though as things went on...” He let out a long sigh and took another sip. “We were going to tell you eventually, it just never seemed like the right time. And … now…”

“And now it’s too late,” this one finished.

The Gustav-gryph’s grip tightened on his glass. “So tell me, would you have had us keep our jobs if you found out we were dating?”

Considering the circumstances, it seemed best to be honest with him. “This one probably would have done some reshuffling within the organization to remove any potential issues, though this one would hardly have needed to fire either of you if you had come to this one and explained the situation.”

The Gustav-gryph studied this one and tapped the brim of his glass. “You know, I actually believe you.” He shook his head. “It makes me feel a bit dumb about hiding everything.”

“When has this one ever not been reasonable?” it asked.

The Gustav-gryph brow furrowed. “You're reasonable as long as we do what you want us to. Once we go off script...”

This one crossed its legs over its chest. “Like burning down this one’s property for the insurance money and selling this one’s yacht?”

“We didn’t have a choice!” He slammed a fist onto the table. “We needed the money if we were going to stay in the fight. Alya left us high and dry when she cut off our funds. We didn’t like doing all of that, and for that I’m sorry, but what would you have done in our place? As you’ve told us: when you go to war, do what it takes to win. We needed money to keep paying my boys, so we got what money we could.” His ears wilted. “And in the end it cost me Merry. Alya caught her at your office. Damnit, I should have sent more guards in with her than I did, and now...”

This one decided to withhold the truth about the Penny-mare for a little bit longer. “And now?”

His wing drooped. “If I’m being honest, when I heard you’d returned to Freeport I was pretty sure I was doomed. We’d messed everything up while you were gone, and it didn’t seem like something you’d just let us walk away from. You’ve killed for less than your lieutenants messing up your entire organization. Half of me was convinced I’d be killed when I got here.”

“That must have been doubly true after you sent those mercenaries after this one and the Alya-mare at the restaurant.”

The Gustav-gryph’s brow furrow and his wings flicked. “I don’t know who was responsible for that attack, but it wasn’t me.”

“And why should this one believe you?” this one asked cooly.

“Because if it was me I would have led the charge,” the Gustav-gryph growled. “I may tire of this street war, but that doesn’t make me a coward. If I could have taken a shot at that bitch who murdered my Merry, I would have.”

That did sound like the Gustav-gryph. He was the type of hippogryph that like to lead from the front, sometimes distressingly so. This one could easily imagine what it would do to someone if they killed the Heartstrings-mare. The only difficult part for this one would be deciding on the type of horrible death to inflict. So unless the Gustav-gryph had had a major personality shift while this one had been away from Freeport, it couldn’t imagine him taking the Penny-mare’s death lying down.

Though these facts led to a couple other problems. “So why did you come if you were so worried this one would kill you?”

He stared at his drink while he collected his thoughts. “Because I want out. After Merry died... I just want to be done. I’m sick of Freeport, I miss home, and there’s nothing here for me anymore. But you’d hunt me down if I ran. If I stayed to fight you I’d just get my people killed for nothing. I want revenge against Alya, but it’s not the same as getting Merry back. At least if I tried to meet with you and got a crossbow bolt to my back it’d be over quickly.”

This one sat back as it digested his words. Indeed, this one was deeply tempted to just kill him, but ... that wouldn’t be practical. The Gustav-gryph had never been the best liar, and this one didn’t detect any deception in his words. “And if this one was willing to consider letting you walk?”

The Gustav-gryph’s ears perked. “You’d be willing to do that? Even after … everything?”

“Yes. Money and property can be recovered with time and effort. And as for this one’s reputation, this one can blame Blackwing for everything. As long as you’re willing to play along that Blackwing manipulated you into doing what you did, we can look past what happened. Especially when you’re planning on leaving Freeport for good anyways.”

“I can work with that.” The Gustav-gryph ran a claw over his face, looking ten years older than when this one had gone to Northmarch. “I just wish Merry could have gone with me.”

With this one now convinced that the Gustav-gryph did really want out, it decided to close the deal. “And what if she were alive?”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“The Penny-mare isn’t dead,” this one explained. “Alya fooled you and kept the Penny-mare as a prisoner. This one saw her with its own eyes.”

His eyes widened and he snatched this one’s hoof, causing all the bodyguards around us to shift and tighten their grips on their weapons. “She is? Puzzle, this better not be one of your tricks, because if it’s not...”

This one looked him in the eyes. “This one is telling you the truth. This one will release her to you if you disband your mercs and then leave for either Westmarch or Equestria. None of you are ever to return to Freeport.”

In truth, this was ... convenient for this one. While this one was mad with the Penny-mare, deep down it didn’t want to have to kill her. But after the extensive damage she had done to this one’s organization, this one couldn’t just let her off the hook. It would make this one seem weak, and potentially encourage others to hurt this one in similar ways, thinking they could get away with it too. But if this one could make it look like releasing the Penny-mare was just part of a deal with the Gustav-gryph to bring the street war to an end then this one might be able to save face.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but then most solutions to life’s problems weren’t.

The Gustav-gryph ran his tongue over his beak as he considered this one’s proposal. “And if I refuse?”

This one’s eyes narrowed and its voice darkened. “Then this one will kill you all. You, the Penny-mare, your mercenaries—everyone. This one will hire out the other merc companies and crush you. It won’t be cheap and it won’t be pretty, but this one will win.”

The Gustav-gryph paused. “I just want enough safe passage and a good enough severance package to take care of myself, Merry, and a family. I also want the same for my soldiers.” He raised a finger before this one could object. “If I’m going to convince them to stand down they’re going to have to get something out of it. Money goes a long way to help with that. Besides, this deal will still cost you a lot less than buying half the merc companies in Freeport to crush us.”

It seemed the Westmarchian in Gustav wasn’t willing to let him walk away without getting something out of our deal. Part of this one wanted to tell him to be happy that it was willing to let them all walk away without harm in the first place, but then that would likely bring negotiations to a crashing halt and the street war would be back on. No, spending a bit of money now to save trouble later seemed best here.

“This one can agree to that,” it said.

“Then it seems we have a bargain.” The Gustav-gryph offered a talon to this one, and the two of us shook. “Though if I might offer some free advice?”

Curious what he wanted to talk about, this one asked, “What's that?”

The Gustav-gryph growled. “Don't trust Alya. She’s the one that started everything.”

This one frowned. “From what she said, you started the fighting when you attacked her first.”

He shook his head. “Only as a preemptive strike. She thinks me not immediately doing everything she says is treason. She threatened to cut off my funds if I didn’t do exactly what she told me to, and said that she could hire other mercenaries to take over my duties within the organization. She all but spelled out how she would have her own hired goons destroy me and my people if I didn’t toe the line. It was either submit to her or go on the attack before she could act on her threats. So I tried to capture her before things could get out of hoof.”

This one frowned as it didn’t like what it was hearing at all. “But that plan went awry?”

The Gustav-gryph rubbed his brow. “Alya escaped the net somehow. She’s a tricky one for sure. I thought we were done for when we failed to bag her, but then to my surprise the hammer didn’t immediately come down. No waves of hired mercs came down on us. From what I hear, Alya’s having her own money troubles. Lucky for us.”

“Or perhaps it was more than luck.” This one crossed its legs over its chest as it thought about who was probably behind the Alya-made getting her bank accounts frozen. “What was Blackwing doing during all of this?”

The Gustav-gryph snorted and waved the issue off. “Blackwing, pah! He’s off playing his own games. He nicks at me and Alya now and again, but he never committed to anything. Maybe he was planning on knocking both of us off once we had weakened one another enough for him to do the job. But if that was his plan he waited too long, because now you’re here and you won’t be so easily beaten.”

This one inclined its head in acknowledgement. “That much is true, his day will come.” Even if this one didn’t think that was going to be an easy task.

The Gustav-gryph grunted with a nod. “Blackwing is dangerous in his own right, but it’s Alya you should be watching out for. She ... doesn't make much distinction between loyalty to you and loyalty to her. I worry just how far her ambitions go.”

This one had to admit to itself that the Alya-mare certainly had ambitions. She had talked about wanting to become this one’s partner, not just one of its employees. That was ... a complicated scenario to consider. This one was going to need to placate her in some manner, and soon.

Of course, that depended on if this one could really trust her. If the Gustav-gryph was right then she had started the whole conflict, either intentionally or accidentally depending on how one viewed things. Could it be that the Alya-mare had wished to prove herself as this one’s true partner within the organization by making a power play with her fellow lieutenants, or had she shot for a higher goal and fallen on her face when her bank accounts had been frozen?

But this one didn’t want to seem weak in front of the Gustav-gryph at such a critical juncture by suggesting that this one couldn’t deal with the Alya-mare, so it instead flashed him a toothy grin. “This one knows how to deal with the Alya-mare. This one has known her for a long time, and we’re friends. We can come to an amicable agreement that leaves everyone happy. Just like we’re doing here.”

The Gustav-gryph frowned as he tapped a finger on the table. “Just be careful you're not being too clever. We all slip up sooner or later, and the consequences for you doing so can be rather severe.”

This one felt a bit insulted by that. “Would this one be alive if it did that?”

“Perhaps not.” He shrugged. “You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever known, and I think you know just how clever you are. But that can lead to arrogance, and arrogance can lead to a nasty fall.”

This one let out a huff. This one didn’t need to be lectured on its limitations when it was already well aware of them. Things were tricky with the Alya-mare, but they were manageable with a bit of time and effort. Two things this one would have once this front in the street war was closed up. “The point is taken. But in any event, this one believes we need to arrange an exchange. We’re going to need to get you your severances, and you’re going to want the Penny-mare back. And then this one is going to want you on the first ship out of Freeport.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Meet here again tomorrow?”

“That would be fine.” And once this one was done getting the Gustav-gryph out of Freeport, this one could concentrate on doing what it needed doing with Blackwing and the Alya-mare.

Time Runs Out

“So, this one believes this job is simple enough?” this one asked as it pushed a file across the desk. This one was using one of the Free Companions’ offices for a series of meetings with those it wanted to hunt down Blackwing, as well as with a few others as it re-established control of its organization. This one would have prefered to use its own office, but that could now only be referred to in the past tense. Considering this one’s life was still very much in danger, Platinum had insisted on this one conducting its meetings from the safety of the Companions’ HQ.

Kunai Doo picked up the file and looked it over. “Yeah, pretty straightforward. Find Blackwing and make a corpse of him.”

This one nodded. “This one doesn't need any theatrics—just a corpse, and the sooner the better.”

“This one can do that.” Kunai put down the folder and tapped the contract in front of her. “One provision beyond the usual compensation: this one wants to hear what happened up North.” Her eyes narrowed. “Kukri's a mess, and hard not to think it's on account of what you and Shimmer put her through.”

This one sighed and leaned back in its seat. This one didn’t need this right now. The trip to Northmarch had already caused more than enough complications without messing with a contract like this, but this one sensed that Kunai was going to walk unless it gave her the information she desired. That was a problem when this one wanted her services: she was one of the best at this business and had the type of skills necessary to hunt Blackwing down, even if this one suspected ... well, you didn’t become an assassin by being a nice person. But there were degrees to that, even for a paid killer.

For one, Kunai had killed a Striker who had been bodyguarding her target at the time. From what this one had heard, the Striker in question had been a hothead who refused to surrender when Kunai had her beat, and Kunai removed the obstacle in an extremely permanent fashion. Though this one suspected Kunai had killed the Striker more out of expedience than necessity, matters were further complicated when the Striker’s brother hired a monster to attack Kukri in retaliation. The monster was slain in the end, and unsurprisingly, Kunai took exception to her sister being hurt. Kunai captured the brother and proceeded to physically and psychologically torture him to death.

And that had been but one violent incident during her career.

This one suspected that she might have some sort of personality disorder that led to her violent behavior, and it made this one somewhat cautious about hiring her for this job. This one didn’t need an excessive body count when it was trying to ratchet down the street war and assure the Council everything was under control, but it did need someone capable of both tracking and killing Blackwing.

The list of people who possessed both those skills was distressingly small, though, so if telling Kunai what happened was the price... “This one wouldn't say ‘what we put her through’,” it countered. “The circumstances went way beyond what we ever expected to happen, trust this one on that. If this one suspected that Blackfyre was suddenly going to become active again it wouldn't have gone to Northmarch to start with, much less brought Kukri along.”

Kunai held up a hoof, and her voice was firm. “This one wasn't asking for excuses.”

This one would really prefer if there weren’t lasting hard feelings between it and Kukri’s family, so it decided to take a different approach with explaining what happened. “You're a soldier, right? You out of all of us should understand that sometimes things go bad despite preparations. This one believes the term is 'Shit happens'?”

Kunai’s ear twitched. “This one gets that, but things change when it happens to Kukri.”

“And this one can understand that. She went through a lot.” This one braced its elbows on the desk as it went into the details. “To briefly cover it, we got attacked by a Blightspawn while in the wilderness. Later on when we returned to Cold Harbor, she witnessed the Shimmer-mare get ambushed by the Glimmer-mare, and the Shimmer-mare got the worst of it in a lot of ways. She was in Cold Harbor when Blackfyre burned the city down.”

This one grimaced as several unpleasant memories of that night returned. “The Shimmer-mare got hurt during the fighting with Blackfyre. After that, Kukri came with us in the convoy of refugees fleeing south, and it got attacked by the Glimmer-mare and several Blightspawn. And finally, she was there when Blackfyre was slain. She saw a lot of things that could mess up a fully functional adult, much less a child her age.”

“Right.” Kunai frowned but still nodded her head. “Thanks for telling this one.”

“You’re welcome,” this one said. “Though this one suggests getting Kukri some help. She's probably going to need it to ... contextualize what happened.” This one hadn’t been kidding about this being some heavy stuff for even an adult to handle. It was no stranger to death, but even it was still dealing with those memories.

“Yeah, Mom and Dad had some plans.” Kunai took a pen and started reading over the fine print of the contract.

This one sat back and let her read. “That's good to hear. This one really does want what's best for her.”

Though this one couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that none of this would have happened if it hadn’t convinced the Shimmer-mare to go visit Argentium. Not that one could just turn down an invitation from Argentium, but guilt wasn’t always a rational emotion. This one hoped that Kukri would turn out alright, for what it was worth.

“Yeah, this one gets it,” Kunai said without looking up. “Just don't expect to get invited over for dinner anytime soon.” She signed the contract.” Anyway, job looks simple enough, and this one’s in the mood to kill something.”

This one grinned. “Good thing this one is offering you the opportunity for fun and profit, then.” And this one could work on fixing things with Kukri’s family once things settled down. This one did have a street war to win first.

Kunai bared her fangs as she returned the grin. “That helps a lot with making this one like you more.” Her eyes flickered over the contract before she slid it back to this one. “Looks pretty straightforward. The tricky thing is gonna be actually doing the deed.”

Relieved to be getting back to more comfortable ground than trying to help a traumatized child, this one said, “Right, Blackwing’s going to be difficult to find. This one doubts he will go anywhere near his old haunts since he’s smart enough to know that anyone trying to find him will look in those places first. And don't underestimate him in a fight, he's good.”

Kunai tapped the hilt of one of the blades at her side. “So is this one.”

This one bowed its head in acknowledgement. “That’s one of the reasons this one hired you. It didn't want to send people after Blackwing who were just going to get themselves killed.” This one had hired a few detectives to try and find Blackwing, but it had given them very specific instructions not to engage with him. Unless they were very good fighters or had a whole team to take down Blackwing, this one didn’t want them to throw their lives away. This one wanted to slowly tighten a noose around Blackwing’s neck, not bury him under bodies.

“Don't worry, this one can handle him.” Kunai made her declaration with airy self-confidence.

“Just try and play nice with the investigators this one is sending after him as well,” this one cautioned. “This one doesn't want to hear that you're all spending more time and effort fighting one another than actually trying to get Blackwing. This one's been on both sides of the hunting game, it knows how things can get.”

Kunai rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, teamwork and all that. Don't worry so much.”

This one would be more assured if it didn’t know there were very good reasons for it to worry. But hopefully this one’s warning to everyone it was sending after Blackwing would be enough to keep the competitiveness between them within reason. “If there's nothing else, this one believes you have a quarry to hunt.”

Kunai nodded and stood up, but stopped herself before going to the door. “By the way, want any trophies or mementos?”

“No, that's just a good way to surround yourself with evidence of your misdeeds.” This one was a touch weirded out by the idea of Kunai offering this one a trophy from off the dead body of one of its lieutenants, but then that was probably a common thing her clients asked for. People did like proof that the deed had been done, though this one didn’t feel the need for it, at least in this case. If Kunai said Blackwing was dead, then he should be dead. If she lied about killing a target and this one found out, it would badly damage both her reputation and that of her clan. Considering that would result in a severe curtailment in her income, it was unlikely she would risk lying.

This one thought about it for another moment. “But collect anything of value from him if you can. Magic items, talismans, paperwork—this one trusts your judgement to know what to pick out. Store it away in the dead drop we set up so that this one can review them later. This one would hate to waste perfectly good magical items. Not to mention any potentially useful documents ... for which this one would be willing to offer an appropriate bonus for the procurement of.”

Kunai shifted to make sure her weapons were firmly in place. “Sounds good. If there's nothing else...”

“No. Good hunting, Kunai.”

Kunai nodded and headed out. This one sighed with relief and leaned its head back as it closed its eyes. With any luck, one of the people it had hired would nail Blackwing. Considering the dangers, this one didn’t particularly want to try for itself. This one could offer itself up as bait to draw him out, but as Platinum had pointed out, being too clever by half was a good way to get itself killed. Besides, this one had several other things it needed to concentrate on as it consolidated its control over its organization.

One of those things knocked on the frame of the door and entered the office. The Alya-mare glanced back out the door before speaking. “I think that's all of them for now.”

This one took a deep breath as it recollected itself from what had already been a long morning and then flashed the Alya-mare a smile. “That's good. Thank you for setting those meetings up, that was a big help.”

The Alya-mare smiled back. “It's what I do.”

“Come on and sit down, we should have a few minutes to talk.”

“And plenty of things to cover.” She sat across from this one.

“So we do.” Indeed, this one had been planning for this conversation since the previous night’s talk with the Gustav-gryph. This one wanted to know exactly what the Alya-mare was thinking and where she stood in the grand scheme of things.

This one pulled out a bottle of good rum and a pair of glasses it had asked the Companions to procure for it as it started up the conversation it had planned in its head. A good drink usually relaxed people during a conversation, and this one wanted the Alya-mare to open up. “First, this one wanted to apologize for a couple of things.”

The Alya-mare quirked an eyebrow. “That so?”

This one nodded as it poured rum into the glasses. “This one realizes that it has acted more than a little bit suspicious towards you recently, and this one wanted to apologize for that. Things were tense when this one got back. This one didn’t know what it was walking into and it was nearly assassinated no more than a few minutes after getting back to Freeport. And a few hours later, this one was attacked by Blackwing. Being betrayed isn't a very pleasant experience, and this one’s experiences upon getting back to Freeport set it on edge.”

There were reasons why this one opened with an apology. First, this one did feel guilty about casting suspicions on its friend. Second, and of more practical importance, by starting with an apology, this one was more likely to get the Alya-mare to become more relaxed. Showing a little bit of vulnerability during a private conversation can do wonders for getting people to be truthful in turn.

The Alya-mare took a couple seconds to reply. “I can understand that.”

Next this one switched to showing some sympathy for the Alya-mare. We were always more comfortable with those that expressed empathy for our actions, and that went double when we had to make difficult choices. This one slid one of the glasses to the other side of the desk. “Furthermore, this one can also understand why you did what you did to the Penny-mare. She was working against you when you were fighting for your life. It only made sense to take out his money flow, especially when she was destroying or selling off this one’s assets. All that considered, this one hopes we can move past that unpleasant business where she’s concerned. You were fighting a street war and merely doing what it took to win.”

The Alya-made picked up the glass and swirled its contents. The bags under her eyes were still heavy, and her shoulders sagged just enough that it would have been easy to miss by someone that didn’t know her. “Yeah, the whole fight with Gustav really has me on edge.”

“Thankfully that will soon be over, and we can concentrate on other matters.” This one sipped its drink.

The Alya-mare let out a long sigh and drank some of her rum. “Be nice to have all this settled. This has all seemed like a never-ending nightmare.”

“This one doesn’t doubt it, considering you’ve been at this for months.” This one let silence hang for several seconds as it looked into its drink so lend weight to its next words. “Of course, that does bring up the question on what we're going to be doing to rebuild the organization. Such as where leadership is concerned.”

The Alya-mare’s ears perked. “That sounds interesting.”

“Admittedly, the organization is getting a bit too big for this one to manage under the current management structure.” This one flashed her a toothy grin. “This one could use a partner. What would you say to a promotion? It’d be nice to have someone to help with handling most of the day-to-day business of the organization.”

And there it was: exactly what the Alya-made claimed she wanted laid out before her. What she did and said now should tell this one much.

The corners of the Alya-mare’s lips curved into a smile and her eyes glittered as this one seized her attention. “I think that would be a good call, and I am your most loyal and competent employee. I’m the natural choice to become your partner.”

“Undoubtedly.” This one made a show of mulling over its drink. “And it wouldn't hurt to have someone help with this one's legitimate businesses as well. They've rather exploded on this one and are becoming difficult to handle on top of everything else it has to deal with.” This one gave her a smirk. “But then, you have a mind for business, now don’t you?”

She smiled wryly. “I have a bit of experience with that. So I can definitely help with that.”

So far nothing too bad. As expected, she jumped at the opportunity to become this one’s partner. Now whether that was merely her wanting to be a good partner within the organization or something else was the question. Now it was time to see how she would react to the next part.

This one took a sip before continuing. “And if you can handle all of that, that lets this one concentrate on other projects.”

The Alya-mare’s head cocked to the side. “What other projects?”

This one spread out its forelegs as though to motion to the entire world. “To make Freeport a better place. We've hit a bump in the road, but this one hasn't given up on that goal.”

The Alya-mare’s smile slipped a bit. “And how exactly would that work? Are you getting into philanthropy?”

This one was already involved in a bit of philanthropy, but it had other things in mind. The question of the hour what the Alya-mare thought of its true goals. “Philanthropy helps, but Freeport has bigger problems than what throwing a little bit of money around will solve.”

The Alya-mare played with her glass as she figured out what this one was getting at. “So what, you're getting into politics?”

This one nodded. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes.”

“You always said politics was a terrible idea.”

“This one said politics was dangerous,” this one corrected. “This one wants to make Freeport a better place. That comes with an element of risk, but it’s a worthy cause.”

“Sure, but getting mixed up in politics won't do us any favors.” The Alya-mare covered her mouth as she stifled a yawn. “It’s just a good way to borrow problems. I'm just not sure this is a good call. You wouldn't do politics in a way that would bring in the money.”

This one hid a frown behind its glass. “So you would be against this one going into politics while you worked on making us money?”

“Yes, I would be against it.” The Alya-mare shifted in her seat. “Politics isn't good for any of the things I want, or for what I thought you wanted.”

“And what do you think this one wants?”

“Power and control, whether it's money or information. You like nudging things along so they go the way you want them to. Are we talking about politics as in you playing the power broker and behind the scenes guy, selling info to the highest bidder and all that? Because while I could get behind that, I always thought our policy was that politics leads to extra trouble.” She took another sip. “You know, people want you to do things for ‘the cause’ instead of because it’s in our own best interests and all that.”

There was some truth in what she said about people wanting to drag you into their causes, but this one wanted to do more than collect power and wealth for their own sakes. If that’s all this one wanted to do then it would have conducted its behavior differently. No, this one was doing what it was doing for a purpose. So the Alya-mare’s answers were not the response this one wanted to hear.

This one leaned forward to prop its elbows on the desk as it shifted the topic of the discussion instead of directly answering her. “And what do you want in life, Alya-mare?”

The Alya-mare smiled. “Nothing too huge. Just a happy, comfortable, wealthy, and secure life.”

That answer confirmed a huge red flag. At the core of the problem was that the two of us had irreconcilable differences in how we wished to take the organization forward: the Alya-mare wanted to build her wealth and live a comfortable life where this one had grander goals in mind for the future that would burn through money and come with a significant risk of danger. That was a big problem when the Alya-mare wanted to be this one’s co-equal partner.

If this one did that, it was just asking for trouble down the line since the Alya-mare could undermine this one in any number of ways, or even depose it. The alternative was to make an unequal equal relationship, with this one still being in de facto control of everything while the Alya-mare acted as this one’s second. But the issue with a plan like that was that it was bound to build resentment within the Alya-mare as she found herself always playing second fiddle. That was made even worse when she would still be in a position to cause this one trouble.

What was this one to do about its friend? She wasn’t going to be satisfied remaining as this one’s lieutenant, and to make her this one’s partner was asking for trouble. If this one couldn't keep her where she was at, it couldn’t promote her, and the remaining options weren’t anymore pleasant. This one needed time to choose the best course of action.

Thankfully, this one knew a range of delaying tactics to give it the time it needed to think. It hid its disquiet behind a smile. “Those things do sound nice. How about this: you write up your proposals for what we can change to improve the organization and where you would like to take us forward. We can review your thoughts once your presentation is ready. By then our biggest problems should have been dealt with, and we’ll be in a position to seriously start rethinking things.”

With any luck, that busywork would keep her occupied and working in a productive direction in the meantime. This one didn’t like leading her around like this, but it couldn’t afford to make a hasty decision when there might be a more satisfactory answer it hadn’t thought of yet.

“I can do that,” she said. “Do you need that by any particular time?”

This one shook its head. “No, we’ve got time as this one sorts out a few things and gets itself re-established.” This one wanted to move the conversation away from danger. There were still unanswered questions this one had about what had happened when it had been away from Freeport. “Though given your bigger role in the organization, this one is going to need to train you up on specific skills.”

The Alya-mare stiffened. “What sort of training?”

“Instruction, exercises, and some real-world experience,” this one said with a wave of its hoof. “We don't want to have the organization break down again like what happened while this one was away.”

The Alya-mare slowly nodded. “Agreed. I never want to have to go through that again.”

This one nursed its glass as it watched its opposite’s reactions. “Which means we need to work on some of your skills. For instance, your negotiation skills could use a bit of work. You’re fine when it comes to business reactions, but they didn’t work with the Gustav-gryph. A different approach with him might have kept him from rebelling.”

The Alya-mare scoffed and her eyes narrowed. “Once he started rebelling and arguing with me how things were to be done while you were gone, I had no choice. I needed to crack the whip or he was going to walk all over me.”

This one had to wonder what really caused the conflict between the Alya-mare and the Gustav-gryph. Did one of them go into things wanting a fight, or did miscommunication and ambitions merely cause a breakdown in relations between them? This one doubted it would ever find out the truth by just talking with those two.

“Hardball tactics aren't always the best approach,” this one cautioned. “They might work in the business world, but backing someone into a corner when they have a small merc company behind them can result in nasty repercussions.”

“You can't show weakness.” She pointed a hoof at this one. “That’s what you’re always saying, right? Never show weakness?”

This one spread its hooves to acknowledge the point. “That's true, but there are benefits to showing why you being in charge benefits those around you. It makes people less likely to fight you if they're worried about losing what they already have.”

“Yeah, like with us.” The Alya-mare shifted her glasses so to rub her eyes. “But that's not the solution for everyone. Some of the people we work with ... if you give them a centimeter, they'll take a kilometer.”

This one turned to look out the office window. Rain pattered against the window and drenched the streets outside. “That is the risk with some people, but that’s why you want the right tool for the right job. Some people need to be given a bit so that they feel they can give back while others need to be remorselessly crushed.”

The Alya-mare nodded. “Exactly. The tricky part is sorting out which is which.”

“Which is one of the things this one can teach you,” this one said. “This one hasn't survived as long as it has without knowing how to deal with different challenges.”

One of the problems was that the Alya-mare had taken half-measures to secure her power within the organization. If she really thought the Gustav-gryph was a threat, she should have put an end to that threat in a quick and decisive manner. By merely issuing threats against the Gustav-gryph, she had put him on notice that he was on the chopping block, and he had launched a preemptive strike as a result. The Alya-mare had been lucky to get out of that net, though the fact that her fortunes immediately took a foul turn with her bank accounts being frozen couldn't have been a coincidence.

In any event, the Alya-mare should have used her money when she had access to it to hire the mercs she needed to make the Gustav-gryph a non-factor. If she had done so immediately then this street war likely would have been over as soon as it started. Instead she had badly miscalculated, and her threats had caused the very problem she had been hoping to prevent.

“Alright then.” She frowned as she played with her glasses. “But you're wrong about Gustav, at least for him and me. He was a troublemaker who wouldn’t follow orders.”

That was concerning language when this one had intended for its lieutenants to work together. Perhaps it was true that the Alya-mare had tried to exert her influence over her fellow lieutenants. “Well it’s not going to matter here before too long. He and the Penny-mare are going to be sailing away from Freeport soon enough, and they won’t be returning ever again.”

The Alya-mare scowled as her grip tightened on her glass. “Yeah, while walking away with big sacks of our money for rebelling against us.”

“It’ll cost us less to pay them to go away now than to fight them later,” this one told her. “Not to mention it would drag out the fight when the Council wants this one to shut this street war down.”

“It still makes you look bad when you have to pay your enemies off instead of crushing them outright.” The Alya-mare finished off her glass with a swig. “And that’s assuming it isn’t their plan to stab you in the back tonight. You’re taking a big risk exposing yourself, and putting Merry in a place where Gustav can take her back by force.”

This one couldn’t help but sigh. “This one is aware of the risks. We've discussed them to some extent. And this one has taken measures to rig the board in the event the Gustav-gryph tries something.” That was why this one had arranged for Platinum to have some of her people serve as extra guards for the Goldtalon-gryph’s club. It never hurt to have some hidden backup around.

The Alya-mare’s cheeks puffed out as she leaned back in her seat. “Right. Well, you do what you think is best.” She swirled her drink for a moment before saying, “Just be careful, okay? If we're in this together, I have as much to lose as you do.”

“So this one is aware.” This one gave her a grin. “This one says to always rig the table, doesn’t it?”

A vindictive smirk spread across her face. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him pay for backstabbing us.”

This one shrugged. “What will happen will happen.” This one saw the clock and frowned at the time. “And while this one would love to continue this conversation, this one has a meeting with the Gustav-gryph to prepare for.”

It was annoying how time just kept marching onwards when this one had so much to do. There were so many issues to work out with the Alya-mare, but there just wasn’t time to address all of them yet.

The Alya-mare sighed as she stood as well. “Yeah, and I got a few things to sort out too.”

A couple hours later, this one was sitting in a rented carriage driving towards the Golden Ducat. The Penny-mare sat opposite of this one. This one had gotten her cleaned up for the occasion and provided a black dress for her to wear. Little surprise, being locked up for months hadn’t done great things for her hygiene, and it had taken a few hours of work to make her presentable to the cream of Freeport society. Though while her exterior was now clean, this one had to wonder how she was doing on the inside. Her experiences had been harrowing, and this one hadn’t exactly been the rescuer she had probably been hoping for.

The Penny-mare stared out the window of the carriage to the rain-drenched streets outside. She had been doing so for some time, and it almost surprised this one when she finally spoke. “Not how I thought it would end.”

This one looked out its own window as it contemplated the past few days. “If this one thought this is how things would end, it would have done several things very differently.”

She turned from the window to look at this one. “I'm going to miss you.”

This one internally grimaced. Even after all this time, this one could sense that she was still loyal. Pity for the circumstances. “And this one will miss you too. But ... the situation isn't safe for you here anymore.” It was a pity, she really was a good secretary. But deep down this one knew it couldn’t have both the Alya-mare and the Penny-mare in its employ together. They hated one another, and keeping them both would just create poison within this one’s organization.

Besides, the Penny-mare would want to be with the Gustav-gryph, and he wasn’t going to remain in Freeport. Sending her with the Gustav-gryph was the best decision for everyone here. Even if it made this one feel more alone than ever.

The Penny-mare’s shoulders hunched and she rubbed her leg. “Yeah, being locked up for a month put that into perspective.”

This one grunted. “This one is sorry that happened to you.” This one’s jaw clenched. “Even if it's still mad about what happened to its property.”

The Penny-mare bowed her head and sighed. “Desperate times...”

This one shook its head to itself. Was this really how one of this one’s final conversations with the Penny-mare was going to go? “That’s why this one is willing to forgive you, to a point. This one ... knows what it's capable of when it's backed into a corner. You and the Gustav-gryph acted due to the circumstances.”

This one wondered how true that was. Once again, this one couldn’t help but reflect that it didn’t know where the line was with who had started what.

“At least that.” The Penny-mare’s ears flattened. “Is it too late to say I'm sorry?”

That was certainly a good question. This one mulled that over for a few seconds, then settled on an answer. “Probably not.”

“I am.” She scooted a bit closer to this one. “For how all of this worked out. I just ... I was just trying to make sure you still had an organization to come back to.”

This one’s ear flicked. “That's what everyone besides Blackwing seems to be claiming these days.”

The Penny-mare placed a hoof on this one’s knee. “Puzzle, if you’re going to believe anything right now, this is true. We were trying to keep your organization together and keep it your organization. I can’t say we went about it perfectly, but the whole situation caught us by surprise, and Gustav ... he did what he thought was best.”

This one frowned as something boiled up within its chest. “Including lie to this one that you two were sleeping together?”

The Penny-mare grimaced as her ears flattened. “That was a mistake in hindsight. We were just waiting for the right time and place to let you know, and ... I guess we kept putting it off so long that it felt like we couldn’t tell you without it feeling like admitting we’d lied. We should have just been honest with you from the start.”

“Yes, you should have.” This one nostrils flared. “And then there’s the mess that was made while this one was gone. It might have been best if you waited until this one returned to straighten things out instead of trying to fight it out with the Alya-mare. If you had done so then, we might not have found ourselves in a street war.”

The Penny-mare winced. “Yeah. I guess good intentions only go so far.”

This one let out a huff and returned its gaze to the rain pattering at the window. “At the end of the day, we’re judged by the results of our actions.”

The Penny-mare sighed and slumped down in her seat. “At least it's over now.”

“So it seems.” This one shook its head as it tried to rein in its temper. This wasn’t the time to lash out. “Things are going to change after this. Though it looks like this one waited too long to make several changes considering how everything went to Tartarus the moment it wasn’t around to run herd on everything.”

The Penny-mare wrung her hooves. “I'd offer to help, but I have a feeling you don't want that.”

Indeed, that struck this one as a bad idea for several reasons. There was the problem of trust and how that had been undermined between us, and the aforementioned issues with the Alya-mare. This one wasn’t sure it could even trust the Alya-mare.

Instead of asking the Penny-mare to stay and help, it shook its head. “Concentrate on rebuilding your life. Your and the Gustav-gryph’s severance packages should be sufficient for you to get a fresh start wherever you decide to settle down.”

“Thanks. Still, it feels wrong to leave when you need help.” The Penny-mare covered her face with her hooves as she sighed. “I just wish everything could go back to the way it was, before all this madness happened. All of this has felt like a nightmare I just can’t wake up from.”

“This one can understand that sentiment all too well right now.” This one rubbed the side of its head as it felt a headache coming on. There was so much this one wished it could have done differently, but it was far, far too late to change the past. It gave the Penny-mare a friendly smile. “This one will be fine. This one always manages to get back up when it gets knocked down.”

“I know. It’s just...” She struggled to find the right words. “I suppose all I can say is ... good luck.”

“Thank you. And for what it's worth, you were a good secretary.”

A ghost of a smile spread over the Penny-mare’s lips. “You were a great boss.”

This one looked out to the stormy clouds gathering in the sky. “That’s nice of you to say, but this one has to wonder how true that is given the circumstances.” The Penny-mare had ended up being locked in a smuggling hole for weeks on end, after all, and that was in no small part due to how things had turned out because of this one’s decisions.

The Penny-mare squirmed in place. “You were always good to me.” Hesitating a moment, she shifted places to sit next to this one. “I know not everyone sees it, but you’re a good changeling at heart. You try and make things better for everyone, even when it’s not easy to do the right thing. When it comes to someone needing to make a tough decision, I know who I want to be around to make it.”

This one didn’t immediately know what to say to that. It was almost difficult for this one to believe that the Penny-mare held any kind of loyalty or good opinion of it after everything that had happened. “Try and take care of yourself, Penny-mare. Live a happy life, if nothing else.”

We pulled up next to the Golden Ducat, and this one’s escorts went about the process of making sure that it would be safe for us to exit.

Back to business.

This one looked to the Penny-mare and spoke with a firm and commanding voice. “Nice and steady, Penny-mare. Do as this one says and this will all be over in a couple of hours. Stay near this one, don’t speak unless this one gives permission, and behave. We don’t need any dramatics ruining the meeting.”

The Penny-mare’s ears wilted, but she nodded. “I understand.”

Once the guards had cleared everything, they pulled out a pair of umbrellas for us to make sure we didn’t get drenched in the downpour and escorted us inside. The Goldtalon-gryph briefly met with us and directed us to the same booth this one had met the Gustav-gryph at the previous night. We slowly and steadily made our way to the booth, and this one kept a cautious eye on the patrons of the club.

The Gustav-gryph was sitting in the booth, and he immediately perked up when he saw us approach. He stood up but then visibly restrained himself from moving forward. His fellow mercs took station behind him. Nothing too aggressive, but definitely in a place to protect their captain if need be. The Penny-mare smiled widely at the sight of her lover, and she took a pair of steps towards him before stopping herself. She knew it wouldn't be good if she tried to get away from this one before the deal had been finalized.

This one stepped up to its former lieutenant, keeping its face passive as it spoke with him. “Gustav-gryph, this one trusts you're willing to fulfill your part of the bargain?”

He nodded, his eyes flicking to the Penny-mare. “I am.”

“As you can see, this one has brought the Penny-mare as promised.” This one motioned to one of its Companion escorts, and the mercenary placed a suitcase onto the booth table. “As well as the paperwork to sign off to our agreement. Once you sign these and leave Freeport, you and your mercs will receive your severance packages.”

The Gustav-gryph’s lips quirked into a smile. “I never doubted you were good for your word.”

“Because this one always is,” this one said. “And you booked a passage on a ship?”

The Gustav-gryph pulled out a couple slips of paper from his jacket pocket. “Got the tickets right here. As soon as we’re done here, Merry and I will be boarding the next ship out of Freeport. And if I’m a lucky gryphon, I’ll never have to lay eyes on this godsforsaken port ever again.”

“That’s more than acceptable to this one.”

The Gustav-gryph stepped up to the contract and picked it up. “I trust you won’t mind if I read everything over? Not that I don’t trust you, but...”

This one shook its head. “By all means, we’ve got the time.” This one could hardly blame him for wanting to read a contract before signing it. Not doing so was a good way to find yourself getting stuck with a clause that could make life unpleasant.

Once the Gustav-gryph was done, he signed it. We had already outlined the basics of the contract the previous night, so it had simply been a matter of getting a lawyer to write up the legalese to make things official. “Shame about how it all worked out, but I suppose all's well that ends well.”

This one shrugged. “For what it’s worth, this one wishes a great many things had gone differently.”

“No changing the past, unfortunately.” The Gustav-gryph glanced at the Penny-mare before frowning at this one, his wings bristling. “So if everything is in order…?”

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The Gustav-gryph hadn’t pulled anything yet, and he was doing what he was supposed to. Time to see what he did when then this one gave him what he wanted most. This one inclined its head to the Penny-mare. “You may go to him now.”

The Penny-mare smiled brightly and ran to the Gustav-gryph, embracing him in a hug that he returned. Tears started to run down the Penny-mare’s cheeks as she held onto the Gustav-gryph like a life preserver.

The Gustav-gryph gently shushed her as he stroked her mane. “It’s okay, Merry. Everything is going to be okay. It’s all over, and I’m never going to let—” He suddenly jerked and pitched forward.

His great hulk nearly barreled over the petite Penny-mare. The Penny-mare barely managed to keep from falling over and she grunted as her legs quivered. “Gustav? What's...” Her eyes bulged when they saw the crossbow bolt sticking out his back. Her blood-curdling scream resounded throughout the entire interior of the club, and everything came to a dead stop. Soon there were more screams and cries of surprise as people realized a murder had been committed in their midsts.

Instincts kicked in, and this one drew a dagger from within its jacket as it followed the trajectory the bolt must have come from. This one wanted to know who had done this and why. Sticking to the ceiling upside down was ... this one?

This one’s duplicate’s lips were curled into a grin as he pulled his crossbow down. This one recognized that grin and knew who exactly it belonged to: Blackwing. He must have snuck in while sticking to the roof and using invisibility potions.

Blackwing called out with a triumphant shout that drew the attention of everyone in the club. “So perish all who dare to defy Puzzle Piece, the greatest crime lord in all of Freeport!” He then smashed a bottle again the ceiling before anyone could stop him, and grey smoke burst from the bottle as its alchemical mixture met open air, obscuring this one’s traitorous lieutenant.

This one didn’t sound like that. Did it? Damnit, now wasn't the time to get distracted. This one needed to—

A flash of something gold in this one’s peripheral vision yanked it from its thoughts. This one pulled up its dagger to defend itself, but then it jerked to a halt as it saw one of Goldtalon’s gold-armored guards charging it. The moment of hesitation was all the guard needed to plow into this one and tackle it to the ground. Two more guards followed the first to dogpile this one.

This one looked to its escort of Free Companions to aid it, but a pair of Goldtalon’s guards cried, “Torch, torch!” The Arrow-stallion hesitated before he dropped his halbert to the floor and called back, “Bearer!” All the rest of this one’s escorts copied the sergeant and let their weapons drop to the floor as the guards surrounded them.

A passphrase, that had to be what that was. Platinum must have made arrangements to make sure her Companions didn’t fight one another, and that passphrase had been to tell this one’s escorts to surrender. And that knowledge was no comfort as more guards piled onto this one and slapped it in chains. This one tried to protest them arresting it, but none of them listened. This one could do nothing but watch as the Penny-mare wailed over the corpse of the Gustav-gryph, and Blackwing got away with his murder.

Burn It All Down

This one hates sitting around doing nothing while there was work to be done. Things had taken an extremely bad turn. Blackwing had killed the Gustav-gryph right in the middle of the Goldtalon-gryph’s club. This one’s deal with the Gustav-gryph was now in ruins, and it didn’t know how his soldiers would react to their captain’s death. They could cause quite a bit of damage if they decided to take revenge for the Gustav-gryph’s death, especially if they blamed this one for the assassination. Blackwing was also on the loose, doing who knew what since this one doubted he would do something so big and dramatic without some kind of followup.

And this one was stuck being chained to a chair in the Goldtalon-gryph’s office while a squad of his guards stared at it like it would miraculously jump out of the chair and make a grand escape at any moment. To be fair to them, this one had pulled off such feats in the past, but they usually required more preparation than this particular incident. It was also difficult to do anything while this one was being closely watched, but then that was the point of watching this one in the first place.

The office itself was luxuriously decorated and clearly intended to impress any guests. The floors and walls were in white, black, and grey marble, expensive paintings and other artwork lined the walls, and his mahogany desk alone probably cost a year’s wage for one of his guards. The only mundane thing in his office was a small shelf behind the desk that featured a hooffull of law books.

It wasn’t long after the guards had locked this one to the chair that the Goldtalon-gryph stepped into the room and waved to his guards. “Leave us.” The guard hesitated to move, and the Goldtalon’s eyes narrowed. “Now.”

Seeing their employment on the line, the guards shuffled out of the office. Once they were outside and had closed the door, this one glowered at Goldtalon-gryph. “You know this one didn't kill the Gustav-gryph.”

The Goldtalon-gryph sighed and waved the issue off. “Of course not, it's not your style to act that openly. You certainly wouldn’t publicly announce yourself in front of all Freeport like that. If you were going to kill Gustav you would have done it far more subtly.”

“Indeed, if this one was going to murder one of your guests, it would have the decency to wait until they walk off your property before doing so. At least then it wouldn’t be your problem and wouldn’t risk you losing any face where your clientele is concerned.” At least we were both starting off on the same basis of facts. This would have been much more difficult if this one had to convince him of its innocence.

“Yes, you are most considerate like that.” The Goldtalon-gryph huffed as he sat behind his desk. “In my line of work I’ve dealt with all sorts of cons, cheats, and charlatans, so I know a setup when I see it from a mile away, and you’ve been set up. Anyone with half a brain could see that.”

“And yet...” This one held up its forelegs, and the chains around them rattled.

“Appearances.” He waved vaguely at the chains. “It’ll hurt my reputation if I’m not seen as being proactive in defending my guests, and my guards were instructed to keep you safe in the event something were to happen. It’s why they piled onto you: they were protecting you with their bodies.”

“And keeping this one from doing anything you might disapprove of,” this one added. “Though this one is still in chains.”

The Goldtalon-gryph shrugged. “There is a substantial gap between what I personally believe and what I can publicly prove, especially when the Masks are on their way here to take you into custody. Quite quickly, if I might say so. I am but a humble businessman, but a more suspicious mind might ask how they knew they would need to take you into custody.”

“This one would be.” This one crossed its legs over its chest. “The assassination wasn’t more than fifteen minutes ago, and as much as the Masks like to present themselves as being all-knowing and everywhere, simple budget and resource limitations mean they can’t be everywhere at once.”

“That’s true, so it’s more than a bit curious they arrived just a couple minutes ago,” the Goldtalon-gryph said. “Though my staff is delaying them at the moment. We should have at least a few minutes to talk, if perhaps not more than that.”

“Still not as much time as this one would like.” So that meant they knew what Blackwing was going to do. That confirmed something this one had long suspected: Blackwing and the Masks were cooperating with one another. If that was true, then that led to several other disturbing questions.

This one’s eyes narrowed. “This one does have to ask how Blackwing came to know about the meeting. There were only four people who knew about the time and place of the meeting: this one, you, the Gustav-gryph, and the Alya-mare.”

The Goldtalon-gryph rubbed his chin. “How very concerning. I think we can safely assume Gustav didn't arrange for his own murder.”

This one shook its head. “No, that seems highly unlikely. For one, how did he expect to get out of here and past all your guards? Second, his reputation would be in ruins for pulling a stunt like that. It would put the Penny-mare in danger, and this one could go on and on. No, it doesn’t make sense unless we go off the assumption the Gustav-gryph was an idiot, which he wasn’t.”

“Agreed.” The Goldtalon-gryph steepled his talons. “And I didn’t get the sense he was up to something. When he came here yesterday, he just seemed ... beat, and I could tell right away how much he wanted Merry back today. I think he was dealing honestly with you.”

“This one thinks so too.” This one internally grimaced at the thought of its dead lieutenant. How quickly this one’s plans had unraveled. “And this one doubts you would be willing to embarrass yourself by both betraying the trust of your guests and allowing a murder to happen right in front of your customers. That would devastate your reputation.”

He snorted derisively. “I most certainly would do no such thing. Still, I'm afraid this whole mess has put me in something of an awkward position. However Gustav died, I’m sure you can appreciate the predicament I’m in.”

This one sighed and nodded. “Your problem is that everyone saw you arrest this one, justly or not. The Masks know you have this one, and will be demanding you give it to them. Worst still, it's only a matter of time until all your customers, influential people within Freeport society, are going to go screaming to the Council about how their nice evening out was ruined by a murder. No doubt complaining specifically about this one and potentially pushing the Council into turning against it. To summarize, a whole bunch of people want this one’s head, and unless it fixes this problem fast the Council is going to have this one drawn and quartered. And that’s assuming the Masks don’t grab this one and cause it an untimely death first.”

“Exactly.” The Goldtalon-gryph’s talon slowly stroked his chin. “And I don’t particularly want to give you over to the Masks. You’ve always played straight with me, and I like you. I don’t want to hear that you died in a Mask cell with a heart-wrenching suicide letter detailing your guilt about your various crimes.”

This one didn’t want to be captured by the Masks either. The best-case scenario was that they would hold this one until it was too late to hunt down Blackwing and prove its innocence. But this one suspected that Cold and the Masks would ‘disappear’ it or arrange some sort of convenient death for it. Thankfully, it sounded like the Goldtalon-gryph wanted to help this one, but it could already hear the ‘but’ to what he wanted to do. “The issue is that you can’t just let this one go without crossing the Masks and otherwise damaging your reputation with your customers.”

“That is the problem, yes.” The Goldtalon-gryph leaned back in his chair as it squeaked in protest and he grinned. “Of course, you do have quite a reputation for being a wily operator. One could hardly blame a mere business owner for failing to contain such a mastermind.”

This one flashed its teeth in a grin as it saw the plan forming. “This one has gotten out of tight spots over the years. If prisons, criminal masterminds, and other far more qualified persons couldn't keep this one contained, what chance did you have of keeping it prisoner? And this one would of course be willing to do what it took to make such an explanation look more plausible.”

“Yes, no doubt you'd wound me quite viciously in your escape attempt.” The Goldtalon-gryph winced and murmured softly, “Or at least something that looks bad. But ideally something that won't scar. Perhaps a shallow face cut? Something that won't look too bad and should heal quickly once all is said and done, but bleeds quite a bit?”

“Claim that this one hit you in the diaphragm,” this one said. “A swift blow to knock the wind out of you would explain how this one got the advantage over you, and it wouldn’t show as a wound on brief inspection. And this one would recommend a shallow cut on the brow. They bleed a lot, and it’s hard to beat the drama of a crimson mask. Get it treated right after you’re done with your act and your pretty face will be fine.”

“Ah, yes, that should do nicely.” The Goldtalon-gryph stood and rummaged in his desk. Soon he produced a lockpick and a table knife he dropped in front of this one. Having plenty of experience with such things, this one picked up the lockpick, and soon the chains holding this one to the chain fell away. It dropped the lockpick next to the chair as though it had forgotten it on the floor during a frantic escape.

This one stood up and picked up the chains and knife. “Now if you’ll just sit down, this one will make it look quite convincing that it assaulted you and got away.”

“Perfect.” The Goldtalon-gryph sat back down and this one got to work. As this one started tying him to the chair he grinned as though laughing at a private joke. “Oh, and don't forget you owe me a rather large favor now.”

This one took the knife and approached him. “Now Goldtalon-gryph, when has this one ever failed to repay a favor?”

After taking pains to make it seem like that this one had assaulted the Goldtalon-gryph while escaping, this one grabbed a spare robe in the office and transformed into him. This one locked the office after itself to delay anyone discovering what had happened. Every minute was valuable at that point, and this one needed to get out of there quickly.

The paranoid part of this one worried that this might all be some sort of plot to fool it—that the Goldtalon-gryph had spun a yarn to draw it into a web that would only make this one seem more guilty. Whatever the truth was, this one needed to get back on the street and fast.

So once this one got an opportunity when no one was looking, this one transformed into a dull-looking zebra stallion and snatched a cook’s apron that was hanging on a hook. This one draped the apron on its back and made for the back exit. It was a simple matter to add a weariness to this one’s steps to make it seem like it had finished a long shift at work and all it wanted to do was return home to relax.

This one exited the back of the club and kept walking like nothing was wrong. You never run away from a scene unless absolutely necessary. Running drew undue attention. No one seemed to pay this one any mind as it departed the Golden Ducat. It helped that the rain was now coming down hard, giving anyone little reason to stay on the streets. This one didn’t spot anyone following it. Either the Masks had bungled and hadn’t placed personnel to watch the back, or this one had fooled them with its disguise.

This one was soaking wet as it slipped into the Alya-mare’s safehouse, and left small puddles in its wake as it made its way to where it had stored some spare arms and armor. The Alya-mare’s people must have told her that this one had arrived, because it had only pulled off the scale-mail from its stand when she made her appearance.

“So how'd it go?” the Alya-mare asked.

This one silently cursed; this had hoped to get what it needed out of the safehouse and then get out of here without drawing attention. “Terribly,” this one grunted as it started shunting on the armor. “Gustav is dead. Blackwing murdered him at the Golden Ducat.”

“What?!”

This one put on its shock gauntlet and invisibility bracelet. Thankfully this one had been able to get those back from the Goldtalon-gryph after his guards had seized them. “He shot him right in front of everyone, and he did it while looking like this one. Now there's going to be a whole lot of angry people going to the Council calling for this one's head. To make matters worse, the Masks are after this one too. Our best recourse is to find Blackwing.” This one started taking weapons off the rack. Soon this one had several daggers strapped to it, ready to do the dirty business that needed to be done that night. “And deal with him, permanently. He’s the killer, and if this one can present his corpse to the Council and bring the street war to an end at the same time that might mollify them enough not to bring down the hammer.”

The Alya-mare frowned as she watched this one arm itself. “That's easier said than done. He’s bound to have gone underground by now.”

“That’s why this one needs to get on it now. Maybe one of the people this one hired to find him discovered something.” This one moved around to make sure everything was secured comfortably and nothing on its person was catching on anything else.

The Alya-mare let out a long sigh. “Hitting the streets all by yourself? What are you even going to do? Just wander around the streets of Freeport until Blackwing or the Masks put a knife in your back?”

“No, find him and put a knife in his back.” Satisfied that all of this one’s equipment was in place, this one headed towards the door.

The Alya-mare trotted to keep up with this one. “He's younger, faster, and stronger than you are.”

“And this one's more experienced, and knows how to beat someone like Blackwing. He’s good, but he isn’t invincible.”

The Alya-mare inserted herself between this one and the exit. “We need more of a plan than this. If you run off and get yourself pointlessly killed it'll screw both of us over!”

This one took a deep breath. “Yes, this one is aware, but we are out of time. We have to act quickly and decisively, or we're screwed anyways. So unless you have an alternative, this one needs to get moving.”

The Alya-mare grimaced as she looked around to see if there was anyone near us. There wasn’t and she slowly pulled a scroll out from a bag at her side. “There is something. A messenger delivered this after you left to go meet with Gustav.”

This one took the scroll and noted that its seal had already been broken. The Alya-mare had already read its contents. Was she being honest about this being delivered by some messenger? This one unfurled the message to read its contents.

Hey Puzzle,

This one wants to meet with you at that place for one last showdown tonight. Just you and this one, one-on-one, best changeling wins. Well, we both know who that is, but it’s polite to at least pretend it will be a fair fight, right? Come alone, or this one will reveal your big secret to everyone. And you would just hate that, wouldn’t you?

See you later,

Blackwing

For a moment, this one was puzzled about where Blackwing wanted to meet. Then the Alya-mare pulled a tome out of her bag. “The letter came with this. Not sure why though.” She showed this one the title of the book: The Black Scourge of Dream Valley.

This one’s heart clenched as a dozen facts swirled together. That book shouldn’t be here. Argentium herself had copied that book for this one. It was one of a kind, and this one had left it in...

Oh no.

Blackwing had somehow gotten into The Vault. If he had seen what was all inside of there, and told the wrong people...

“This one needs to go.” This one tried to step around the Alya-mare, but she moved to keep this one from getting past her.

“Whoa! Where are you going?” The Alya-mare frowned as she watched this one. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

This one scowled at her. “Things have changed. There are things this one needs to do, immediately.” This one was in even more trouble than it had thought. It had kept the Vault secret for very good reasons. For one, knowledge of its existence would raise all sorts of uncomfortable questions, and many of them from the wrong sorts of people. If those wrong people suspected what this one was up to or drew one of several wrong conclusions, then this one might as well be a dead changeling. This one had to keep The Vault a secret whatever it took, but how to do so without revealing its existence?

The Alya-mare’s brow furrowed as she refused to get out of this one’s way. “What’s going on? Where’s this meeting place, and why does it have you bothered so much? Does it have something to do with this secret he’s talking about? What could he know that’s bothering you so much?”

For a moment this one was tempted to tell her the truth, but that idea died stillborn. This one could no longer trust her, especially with such a vital secret as The Vault. Maybe if this had happened before this one had left for Northmarch... But too much had happened since then, and there had been too many lies and deception since then. Worse still, our goals no longer aligned, and that was ultimately a fatal condition to us continuing to work together as we had in the past. Those facts stabbed this one right to the heart, but denying them would only make the situation worse. This one couldn’t tell her about the Vault without making things even worse, and that was the truth of it.

Then came a burst of paranoia. Could this all be a trap on the Alya-mare’s part? The hoofwriting looked like Blackwing’s, but such things could be faked. But an examination of the Alya-mare made this one doubt that was the case. This one knew the Alya-mare very well, and knew her tells for when she was keeping secrets: a tightness to her face, a careful neutrality in her tone, and a measured way of speaking were all absent right at this moment. No, she was probably honest right at this moment, but that still left this one to determine what to do with her.

This one decided to go with a lie. Maybe if this one could come up with something that sounded sufficiently terrible to explain its actions the Alya-mare would buy it. “This one thinks he might have found a hidden file cache it has. It has ... let us say compromising information on several individuals. The consequences for Blackwing getting his hooves on those files could make the current situation even worse.”

The Alya-mare rubbed her chin. “Okay, that sounds bad, but no need to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Obviously this is a trap, but we can turn this around on him. All we need to do is gather all those mercs and hired killers you’ve got, have them create a net for Blackwing, and then bag him. Hay, we can manage everything from right here. There’s no need to go running off into the rain when we can bring everyone here.”

The problem with that perfectly reasonable plan was that it would raise a whole lot of questions from a whole lot of people. To make it worse, in a scenario like that Blackwing could easily scream to everyone and their mothers what this one had hidden in The Vault, and from there everything would fall apart.

Damnit, Blackwing had this one pegged and he knew it. Either this one faced him alone, or this one might as well hang itself, and he had provided this one with plenty of rope with which to do so. The only reasons this one could think of for why Blackwing hadn’t already told the wrong people what was in the Vault was because he wanted its contents for himself, and he really wanted to kill this one personally.

But this one needed to come up with some sort of lie to get past the Alya-mare without a scene. This one needed to buy time—precious, precious time, and her suspecting this one might be turning against her at this critical juncture would invite more trouble.

This one flashed her a grin. “Don’t worry, this one has a contingency in place in case anyone went snooping around that cache. This one just needs to get the ball rolling, and we’ll turn this around against Blackwing.”

This one moved to get around her, but to its surprise the Alya-mare snatched this one by the leg. “What’s your plan? We’re supposed to be partners working together now. You need to tell me what you’re doing instead of running around without anyone knowing what you’re up to.”

Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why did she have to bring that up now?! “Please … just let this one deal with this problem. Once Blackwing is dealt with and everything is stabilized we can sit down and talk.”

“No!” The Alya-mare stomped a hoof. “That isn’t good enough! You’re going to explain everything now! If we're supposed to be partners, you can't keep shutting me out and keeping me in the dark!”

This one shook its head. It couldn’t tell her its secrets not now, or ever. This one hated doing it, but it forced its way past her and towards the exit. “Stay here and keep your head down. This one will be back once everything’s been taken care of.”

The Alya-mare glared at this one as it passed her. “Don’t you brush me off! Get back here! I’m not done talking with you! You can’t treat me like this, you hear me?!”

She continued shouting after this one as it stepped out into the storm raging in the night.

This one needed to make some arrangements before it confronted Blackwing alone. This one’s enemies were closing in on it, and unless radical actions were taken then it was a dead changeling. After all of this one’s trials and tribulations, it wasn’t about to give up, even if it was going to have to do some terrible things to survive. The Gustav-gryph’s murder, Blackwing’s betrayal, and the Alya-mare’s untrustworthiness were forcing this one’s hooves. At the end of the day, this one was a practical changeling, and practicality demanded certain things be done.

So this one entered the Free Companions HQ, and soon it was entering Platinum’s office. She frowned as she sat behind her desk, her talons interlocked as she watched this one step up to her. This one leapt into the conversation. “This one believes you know everything that happened at the Golden Ducat?”

“I do.” Her frown deepened. “Or about as much as anyone does. I’m going to guess you didn’t actually engage in an epic duel with Goldtalon while simultaneously defeating half of his guards before making your escape?”

“This one suspects the story of what happened has been exaggerated.” This one had to wonder how elaborate a story the Goldtalon-gryph had come up with. Granted, this one figured he had given the Masks and everyone else an elaborate and obvious lie to help cover what he had really done. This one didn’t particularly care what he said as long as it didn’t cause this one more trouble.

Platinum shrugged. “Whatever the details, you’re in quite the pickle. The Masks are after you now, and I’m hearing word that the Council is going to be meeting about Gustav getting murdered, allegedly, by you. We both know that last part is a bunch of hogwash, but the facts are what they are. The Council might lose their patience with you and vote to censure you, and we both know that’s bad news.”

“So this one is all too aware,” this one grunted. “But this one has a plan for turning this situation around. Though we’re going to need to move fast if we’re going to pull it off.”

Platinum arched an eyebrow and leaned back in her seat. “Oh, is that so? Do tell.”

This one stepped to where it could see outside. Sheets of rain swept down and thunder rumbled as a violent storm descended upon Freeport. “Gather whoever is available from your company. This one wants to enact one of the contingencies we talked about when hammering out our contract. This one wants to burn it down—this one wants to burn it all down.”

No Going Back

This one snuck out of the Free Companions’ HQ after giving its instructions. Platinum would know how to do things without this one supervising her, though she would no doubt have unhappy words with this one later for climbing out of the bathroom window to get back onto Freeport’s streets, especially when she inevitably learned this one had done so to confront Blackwing. But then many of the same reasons this one had for withholding the truth from the Alya-mare as well as from Platinum. She was a friend, but she couldn’t be trusted with this one’s deepest secrets.

This one silently cursed the world as the wind and rain battered at this one. This one tilted its head against the elements as it trotted towards its destination. Just twenty-four hours ago this one had thought it had a grapple on the situation with its organization. Now everything was spinning out of control, and the only way to put everything right was extreme actions and dangerous risks.

The Alya-mare hadn’t been wrong about how dangerous it was to confront Blackwing. After our last encounter, this one didn’t relish the idea of fighting him one-on-one again. Then there was the fact that this could just be a big ambush, and this one could be walking into the waiting embrace of a dozen dagger-wielding assassins. There was also the outside possibility that it hadn’t even been Blackwing who had sent the message. If that was true...

This one hated playing things so recklessly. This upcoming confrontation was exactly the type of situation this one worked so hard to avoid. Never fight a fair fight—fair fights were just another way of saying you had a fifty-fifty chance of losing, and that was a great way to get killed. Which just made how Blackwing was forcing this one into this confrontation all the more frustrating. This one wanted to control how events proceeded, not the other way. Somehow this one just knew the Do-mare would have had something clever to say to it about how its plans always had a way of going off the rails if she had been here. She was always leaping before looking, often much to this one’s frustration, but she somehow managed to come out on top in the end. This one was just going to have to make sure it was the last one standing, whatever that took.

Lightning briefly lit the nighttime streets and illuminated Dad’s old office. Whatever the circumstances, this one wasn’t foolish enough to go barging in without scouting out the area first. It walked down a nearby alley and climbed up the wall to crawl along the roof. This one drank a potion to allow it to penetrate any illusions, then started looking for any potential threats. The rain and gloom made it hard to see anything clearly down on the streets, but after watching for a few minutes this one didn’t see anyone. Not that that meant all that much given the circumstances. It wouldn’t be that hard to find a good hiding spot between all the alleys and buildings. This one switched roofs, catching the building from different angles to see if there were any hidden gangs of assassins. This one didn’t spot any, and it didn’t have all night.

This one crawled down into an alley near the office and then carefully picked its way forward to reach the back door. This one double-checked to make sure its equipment was at the ready, particularly a set of potions useful for escaping a precarious situations. Preparation was everything where survival was concerned, and potions that granted invisibility, turned this one into a floating gas, and a range of other abilities were extremely useful for getting away from dangerous enemies. If this one found an unwinnable situation inside, it was going to run for it, even if it meant the Vault’s existence might be revealed. If it came to that ... this one would likely have to restart from scratch. Perhaps even run off to another nation and change identities. That idea was unpleasant, but this one couldn't accomplish anything if it was dead.

This one examined the door but didn’t see anything off about it. A quick check confirmed that it was unlocked. This one stood to the side of the doorway and opened the door, letting it swing open as this one hid in cover. Nothing happened. Either whoever was inside was very patient, or there wasn’t anyone inside. Looking around with a mirror, this one didn’t spot anything in the interior of the office. Despite this, this one still carefully stepped inside Dad’s darkened office.

At least this one wasn’t immediately hit with a crossbow bolt. Though this one’s eyes fell on the open latch to the basement. It felt like this one was being herded forward, but there wasn’t much to do other than proceed. This one circled the entrance to the basement, making sure there weren’t any traps or anyone waiting to receive it. Not spotting anyone, this one pulled out an invisibility potion and drank it.

This one braced itself and then leapt through the hole. This one’s wings buzzed to halt its descent, and it hit the ground in a roll. This one was back to its hooves in a second, ready for a fight. But still nothing happened. Instead, this one was met by an unexpected sight.

The basement now looked like a battlefield. The walls and floor were scorched and sections of the room were now melted, in some cases right through to the foundations of the building. All the furniture was nothing more than unrecognizable splinters. The room couldn’t have looked worse if the Shimmer-mare had come down on the place in a streak of fiery vengeance.

Though what really drew this one’s eye was the hole that now gaped in the wall—a hole that led right into the Vault. The edges of the hole looked like they had been melted by something, and based on the splash patterns and little irregular holes spaced all around the larger hole, it appeared some sort of acid had been used. This one had plenty of experience using acids in the past, so it had a pretty good idea of what it looked in action. Thankfully, the contents of the Vault were undamaged, though this one’s chest started to burn when it saw who was inside.

Blackwing was reclining on a chair, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading a book belonging to the Vault’s collection. He stared right at this one with a wide grin. “Puzzle, good to see you’ve finally arrived. This one was worried you wouldn’t show after all. This one would have been disappointed if the Masks had managed to snatch you up after our little run-in at the Golden Ducat.”

This one wasn’t sure if he was really seeing it or had merely heard this one’s landing and correctly guessed who had arrived. But when this one stepped quietly to the side, Blackwing’s eyes followed it. “Come on, give me some credit. You think this one wouldn’t be ready for one of your favorite tricks? Do you think so little of this one?” This one had doubted it would have been able to get the drop on Blackwing, but it had been worth a shot. This one willed the invisibility magic to fall away and glowered at its former lieutenant. “This one has to admit, it’s somewhat of a surprise to see you here.”

Blackwing made a point of taking his time as he sipped his coffee. “To be fair, you did a good job of hiding this place. If this one didn’t know you so well it might not have suspected you would have a deceit behind a deceit behind a deceit. But then, this one does know you, and it knows you value misdirection.”

“It is a valuable trick,” this one said. “So how did you find this place?” This one wanted to know how he found the Vault, and if anyone else knew about this place.

“Admittedly, this one discovered this place kind of by accident.” Blackwing rolled his shoulders and stood up. “After the Alya-mare and Gustav-gryph started fighting one another, this one spent part of its time poking around Freeport for your saferooms and hidey-holes. You usually had a few nice goodies inside of them. They were good for sleeping in since almost no one else knew about them, and a few of them had some real treats—like whatever this is.”

“So you came to this one’s dad’s old office to see what was here?” this one surmised.

“It was a bit weird that you hadn’t done anything with this place, enough to catch this one’s interest,” Blackwing one agreed. “This one wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re heartless, but you’re not exactly sentimental either. Not when it comes to making use of something. Some people might like the idea of keeping their dad’s old office just as it was when he was working out of nostalgia, but that’s not you. You would want to put good real estate to use somehow. But here this building was, sitting around, doing nothing, and you never talked about it. And we both know that you don’t do anything without a reason, now don’t we?”

“That is pretty astute of you.” This one slowly stepped forward as it watched for any traps. “And so you managed to get into here, and without triggering every alarm and trap this one has set up.”

“This one didn’t say it was easy.” Blackwing buffed a hoof against his armored chest. “This one tripped at least one of your alarms, but from what this one can tell the alarm range extends out to around somewhere in the outer islands. Plenty good most of the time for you, but not when you’re halfway across the world in Northmarch.”

“That was one of the drawbacks of this system,” this one grumbled. “And so that meant you had months to poke around here to your heart’s content.”

“Exactly.” Blackwing’s grin widened. “Though this one had to stop when it saw your death trap room. This one is good, but it knew no good would come out of going in there blind.”

“Though obviously you found an alternative way to get in there.” This one waved an arm at the edges of the hole into the Vault.

Blackwing placed his coffee to the side. “You didn’t exactly make it easy to get in. You had wards for your wards for whatever this place is.”

“And how did you get past the wards?” This one motioned with its head at the devastation that had once been its dad’s storage room. “Clearly they went off, and they wouldn’t all have triggered at once. This one had made sure of that.”

“Brute force, mainly.” Blackwing flashed his fangs. “This one figured out how all the rooms in the basement lined up with the building above, and then it figured out that the wall to this vault here lined up with the wall of the file room there. From there it was a matter of figuring out how to get past the wards without getting blasted into atoms. So this one decided to subcontract the job.”

This one’s eyes narrowed as it got an unsettling feeling about where this was going. “What did you do?”

Blackwing chuckled to himself. “You’d be surprised what you can get the desperate and destitute to do with the promise of some ducats or some cheap booze. Well, maybe you wouldn’t be surprised, but you get the point. This one just hired some homeless people, one at a time, and told them to throw some vials of acid against the wall. Naturally that fell afoul of your wards, hence the mess over there.”

Given the state of the storage room, the first few individuals must have been vaporized. After that ... it was hard to miss the bloodstains on the wall. At some point, some of Blackwing’s victims must have caught onto what he was up to, but it was unlikely he would have let anyone quit once they had come this far. “How many?”

This one’s former lieutenant tsked and shook his head. “What does it matter? They were homeless nobodies. You can’t honestly think anyone will care they’re gone now. People try their hardest not to see them.” There was a flash of something in his eyes, and his grin disappeared. “This one should know. It was among them before you found it.”

The back of this one’s teeth ground together. “And look how you’ve thanked this one for pulling you off the street, giving you a purpose, pay, benefits...”

Blackwing barked out a short laugh. “Come on, you only did that to benefit yourself. This one was your attack dog and nothing more—a mini-you to do your bidding and deal with little problems you didn’t want to waste your time on.”

This one frowned. “That isn’t true. This one wanted you to be the best you you could be. This one saw potential in you, and it wanted to make something of that instead of you being wasted on breaking into warehouses to steal food every night.”

Blackwing fell silent for a moment. “Even if that’s true, this one isn’t going back to being your tool.”

This one wanted to press that point to see what Blackwing’s motives were in all of this, but first it needed to be sure whether Blackwing was the only one to know about the Vault. “So what happened to whoever finally melted their way through the wall?”

“This one gave her a severance package.” Blackwing slowly drew his hoof across his neck. “One look at this place told this one that it had run across something really special, and this one wasn’t inclined to share its find with someone who didn’t even have a clue what she was seeing. She was gaping so hard at everything in here that she didn’t even notice this one coming up behind her.”

This one was mildly horrified that Blackwing had come to so casually disregard the value of life. Was that this one’s fault? Was this callousness always a part of Blackwing’s makeup, or had this one taught him to be like this? True, this one knew that its lessons and philosophy were a long way from being kind, but it was all supposed to be for a purpose. This one sought the best way to handle a task, not the most straightforward and bloody-minded way to get its goals. Some bloodshed was inevitable in the world this one lived in, but Blackwing had gone ahead and dumped buckets of blood to get what he wanted. No, it hadn’t even been that. He didn’t even know what was in the Vault, and still he had killed all those poor, hapless people without batting an eye.

How many people had he killed over the past few months? He didn’t show an ounce of regret for killing the Gustav-gryph, those homeless people, the mercs we’d captured at the restaurant, or anyone else. Was this one responsible for creating a monster? If so, then that made it all the more imperative this one put him down.

“What’s the matter, upset that this one spilled a little bit of blood to keep your—this one’s secret?” Blackwing mocked when this one didn’t immediately answer him. “Though I do have to ask, what is this place? You’ve got all those old books, half of them about changelings, all this old junk, and then the magic items over there. What’s it all for? You might as well let someone in on your secret before this one puts you down.”

This one stepped into the Vault to face him. “This one will tell you its secrets if you tell it yours. After all, only one of us is going to survive this night, right?”

Blackwing’s hoof ran over the hilt of his blade. “True enough. So answer this one’s question, it asked first.”

“Very well.” This one flashed a fang-filled grin. “This one wants to kill a demigod.”

Blackwing’s eyes flicked to the painting of the Old Mind on the wall before he tossed his head back to let out an uproarious laugh. “If this one had known you were up to something that crazy then it might have stuck with you. But this one believes it’s burned a few too many bridges for us to go back to working together by this point.”

“This one tends to take it personally when someone tries to kill me. It’s the type of thing that leaves an impression.” This one briefly considered the idea of taking Blackwing up on that offer, but then dismissed it as a bad idea. He had proven to be immensely untrustworthy, and this one needed his corpse to present to the Council to help pacify them. On top of that, this one needed to keep the Vault a secret.

“Ah well, too bad.” Blackwing shrugged. “Good news is that I can carry on your work after you’re gone. Consider me your heir if it makes you feel better.”

This one snorted. “This one would rather burn everything down.”

“Is that so?” Blackwing started weaving his way through the Vault’s collection, taking his time to look at every object as he passed them. “After all the work you’ve put into the organization, you’d torch it all just to spite this one?”

“You have no idea what this one is really capable of when it puts its mind to it.” This one slowly swiped a leg to motion at the contents of the room. “You didn’t know about any of this, now did you?”

“Touché. You’ve always been full of surprises.”

“This one’s turn for a question.” This one started weaving through the Vault so as to circle it opposite of Blackwing. “How long have you worked for Cold?”

Blackwing snorted as he suppressed a laugh. “And here this one thought we’d done a good job of hiding our relationship. How did you figure out that we’re working together? And don’t say it’s because this one just confirmed it. This one will be so disappointed if that is the best you could come up with.”

“Hardly, there’s plenty of proof to point to you two working together, and Cold’s influence. It wasn’t any one thing, but a combination of facts coming together to paint a picture. There was Pyrolash and your agents who got poisoned in the condottieri barracks. Then there was the missing files on the Penny-mare’s kidnapping and the detective in charge of that case just so happening to leave Freeport on a vacation right when this one would need to speak with him. Also, the Alya-mare’s accounts were frozen right as the street war started. All of those things suggest someone with considerable resources and influence was at work.”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of people like that in Freeport,” Blackwing countered.

“True, but the list isn’t that long, and that list gets even shorter when you consider how quickly the killings were done,” this one shot back. “Then this one had to ask why the details of the Penny-mare’s kidnapping were covered up. Cold overplayed his hand when he met with this one. No doubt that smug snake wanted to rub it in this one’s face he was involved, even if he wasn’t going to ever say it straight. Still, it was suspicious how he had intercepted this one’s message to you. Add to that how none of this one’s mail arrived in Freeport, and it’s pretty clear who was behind keeping this one in the dark. Cold certainly has the ability to make that happen. What’s more, he was the one to tell this one who had the Penny-mare. If this one had to guess, he was hoping this one would ... do something it would regret once it found out the full truth of what had happened in its absence. That would go double when this one discovered Cold had bought the Trustworthy, something both to insult this one, and get it riled up.”

Blackwing nodded. “Quite true. Cold was hoping that you’d snap and kill them all. If you killed the Alya-mare then that would have cost you influence within her part of the organization during a critical juncture, leaving the possibility this one could move in and convert her people over to its side as they all worried they might be next on the chopping block. And if you killed the Penny-mare...” He tsked and shook his head. “That would have made it rather difficult to make a deal with the Gustav-gryph, now wouldn’t it? Especially after this one told him about your misdeed.”

“Likely he would have tried to kill this one at the Golden Ducat during our first meeting, and damn the consequences,” this one agreed. “Though this one did no such thing.”

“Nah, must be cold ice in your veins there.” Blackwing’s words became laced with mocking venom. “Or you’ve just grown so weak you can’t bring yourself to kill traitors anymore.”

This one didn’t rise to the verbal jabs. This one was learning too much to close down the conversation with insults. “It’s also worth bearing to mention that Cold has a motivation for destroying this one and its organization. He hates this one to a near self-destructive level.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely true,” Blackwing confirmed with a nod. “Most of the time he’s a cold-hearted bastard, but if you want to get him going on a good rant then all you need to do is bring you up. He’s almost on a tear with how hard it’s been to pin you down and get rid of you.”

“Yes, but how to go about that was one of his biggest problems.” This one’s memories churned as it thought of the events of the last few years. “As part of the agreement for this one to return to Freeport and fix the mess the Council had, the Council agreed to Cold having to leave this one alone. That’s kept him from acting openly against this one.” This one eyed Blackwing. “Even if he’s found more subtle ways to act against this one, like acting through proxies like you who can’t be tied back to him.”

“Yeah, the Council telling him to lay off of you has definitely been a sore point for him.”

“Doubly so when this one has been a rival to him as an information broker,” this one agreed. “Cold worked hard to become the Council’s sole source of intel. He took over or ran out any competitors the Masks had in Freeport. And as we both know, knowledge is power. Controlling the flow of information to the Council gave him no small measure of power, and an ability to shape Council policy in a way that benefited him.”

“And then you returned and messed up his monopoly,” Blackwing said. “He doesn’t like that, let this one tell you. Even Cold’s—well, ‘friends’ probably isn’t the right word for his compatriots on the Council. More like a cabal of people whose goals more or less align with one another with a lot of favor trading going on. Point is, even they don’t really trust Cold, much less those on the Council who actively oppose him. And you’re a convenient counterweight to him. Anytime they want to take Cold down a notch, they go to you for intel or to do a job for them, and every task they give to you is a task not given to the Masks. You better believe that burns him on the inside. It’s probably the biggest reason why he recruited this one to take you down.”

“So why did you betray this one?” this one asked. “After all this one has done for you over the years, why side with Cold?”

“Because he gave this one a better deal,” Blackwing said without a trace of shame. “Let’s be honest, you’re not going anywhere anymore. You’re just running some two-bit criminal gang with delusions of grandeur as some information broker.” His head cocked to the side as he looked at a black stone on a pedestal. “Or so this one thought. But burnt bridges and all that. Anyways, the point is that you’ve peaked, and you can’t take this one any higher.”

This one itched to pull out a weapon and kill him right there, but it hadn’t gotten this far without self-control. “So let this one guess, he offered you a position within the Masks, full with opportunities for promotions and a nice benefits package?”

“Not to mention greater challenges. In truth, this one was getting bored in your organization. This one hardly got to do anything really interesting anymore with things running so smoothly, but Cold offered all sorts of things this one could do for him. We’ve even got a new identity for this one ready to go once the mess with the organization is settled and you’re dead and buried.”

“Yes, this one imagines he whispered all sorts of sweet nothings into your ears.” And if this one knew Cold, he was probably going to kill Blackwing at the end of this. Blackwing was a loose end that could track Cold to this big mess, and this one doubted he trusted Blackwing. A changeling that could turn on one master could turn on another, and Cold valued personal loyalty to him more than competence.

“And who knows? This one could become the Mask someday.” Blackwing’s lips spread in an arrogant smirk. “Wouldn’t that be something? This one could achieve what you always wanted. There’s poetry in it, don’t you think?”

“You’re a long way from that point.”

“Is this one?” Blackwing snickered to himself as he glanced up at an old anatomy drawing for a changeling. “Where Cold and his agents failed to nab you at the Golden Ducat, this one found the perfect bait for you and lured you to your death. And when this one brings your head to Cold, he’s going to be oh-so-grateful to it. This one would be surprised if Cold didn’t bring it into his inner circle in thanks.”

“Yes, this one is sure he’ll properly reward you for your betrayal.” Curious about how other events had played out, this one turned the conversation to another topic. “So what did happen within the organization while this one was gone? The Gustav-gryph and the Alya-mare each gave their own contradictory version of events, but both of them de-emphasized your part in events. This one doesn’t think that’s an accident. In fact, given how they both didn’t want to talk about you and the fact that you’re working for Cold, this one would bet you helped manipulate events to proceed as they did.”

Blackwing puffed out his chest to preen. “This one played them both like a fiddle. The plan was simple enough: once you were gone, Cold would play things on his end to make sure you stayed in the dark on what was going on in Freeport while this one went to work. This one worked to undermine the trust between the Alya-mare and the Gustav-gryph while also moving several pieces into place. From there one of two plans would be triggered. The first was that when we got word you were on a ship to return to Freeport, this one would launch a coup within the organization, take over, and then when you returned use the full power of your organization to kill you, thus eliminating opposition to Cold.”

This one surmised the rest. “But instead you went with the second plan. In the event the Alya-mare and the Gustav-gryph turned on one another, you would sit on the sidelines and let them fight. That would let Cold keep his hooves clean of the whole affair, since it would involve third parties fighting one another. Even better, this one’s organization falling into infighting and causing chaos on the streets would embarrass it and destroy its influence with the Council. Sooner or later, the Council would demand the organization be destroyed to bring peace back to the streets, thus giving Cold dominance in the spy business in Freeport.”

“Heh, seems you’re not quite as old and slow as this one thought,” Blackwing mocked. “But that’s all correct. And it wasn’t even that hard to set the other lieutenants at each other’s throats. The Alya-mare was trying to push to make herself first among equals, which set off the Gustav-gryph. Then this one told the Alya-mare, as a concerned and loyal lieutenant naturally, all about the Gustav-gryph and the Penny-mare’s little moonlight affair they were carrying on behind everyone’s backs.”

This one’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about that?”

“Oh yeah, for some time,” Blackwing sneered. “This one decided to keep that little tidbit in its back pocket to use later. And oh boy, did it become useful both against you and with the Alya-mare. Learning the Gustav-gryph was secretly banging your secretary is all it took to start to erode her confidence in the Gustav-gryph’s true loyalty. It also helped when this one said it would back her if she decided to crack the whip and bring the Gustav-gryph back in line or ... if more extreme measures were needed should he prove to be as disloyal as we feared.”

This one snorted derisively. “And no doubt you were telling the Gustav-gryph something similar.”

Blackwing nodded. “Naturally. The Gustav-gryph didn’t like the Alya-mare trying to tell him how to do his business, and this one whispered to him how the Alya-mare might have grander designs on the organization than merely counting its coins. And then when he pushed back against the Alya-mare, she went and threatened to hire as many mercs as it took to take him down if he didn’t start toeing the line. You can imagine how much he liked that. Then all it took was for this one to tell him that the Alya-mare was meeting with merc companies and drawing up contracts with them. That got the boulder rolling downhill.”

This one rubbed its chin as all the pieces started to fall into place. “So the Gustav-gryph attempted his pre-emptive ambush on the Alya-mare, but then you went and told her what he was up to. Thus letting her escape the net and kicked off the street war.”

“Exactly,” Blackwing confirmed. “It was a simple matter for Cold to use his influence to shut down the Alya-mare’s bank accounts and prevent her from hiring the mercenaries that would have let her overwhelm the Gustav-gryph. From there this one sat back and launched an attack here and there to make sure each side stayed in perpetual stalemate with one another.”

“And after a number of months, this one returned to Freeport,” this one observed.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Blackwing agreed. “Anything else this one needs to clear up before it kills you?”

“Just one more thing this one wants to confirm.” This one looked him in the eyes. “It was the Alya-mare who told you the time and place of its meeting with the Gustav-gryph, wasn’t it?”

Blackwing’s smile was positively malicious. “Figures you would figure that out. What tipped you off?”

“The fact that only a hooffull of people knew about the meeting, and only the Alya-mare had the motive to tell you,” this one said. “True, there might have been a leak somewhere, but this one had a feeling it was the Alya-mare. We have been having ... disagreements with one another.”

“More like she thinks you’re making a bunch of big mistakes,” Blackwing said none-too-subtly. “They and this one got her really riled up over the Gustav-gryph. She really wanted him dead. So the two of us come up with a deal: she’d tell this one where the meeting was, and this one would kill the Gustav-gryph.”

This one frowned as it considered the facts. So the Alya-mare had betrayed this one’s trust. Good thing this one had made plans where she was concerned before coming here. “So she planned on this one going down for the Gustav-gryph’s murder?”

Blackwing shook his head. “Nah, this one doesn’t think she thought the Council would come down on you for something it did, especially when this one pretended to be you. But then that plan was intended to push the Council against you by spreading chaos more than anything else. That and Cold hoped to snap you up.”

“This one’s surprised you didn’t take a shot at it.” This one eyed the little hoof crossbow at his side.

Blackwing shrugged. “It was tempting, but nah. We were all pretty sure you were carrying some magical trinket that’d keep that from working. This one remembered how you had one on you when that assassin shot you right outside your office a couple years ago.”

“Yeah, this one was wearing something to prevent it from getting killed like the Gustav-gryph.” Considering how many people had taken literal shots at this one over the years, it’d been prudent to buy some magic items to make it less likely some assassin would be able to snipe this one at random.

“Figures.” Blackwing’s hoof trailed to the hilt of his sword. “But this one is getting tired of talking. Are we going to fight, or are you trying to bore this one to death?”

“No, we’re going to fight.” This one raised a hoof to stop Blackwing mid-drawing of his weapon. “But not here. This one doesn’t want to risk anything here being damaged during the fight.”

Blackwing frowned as he kept a hoof on his sword. “This better not be some kind of trick. You try something tricky, and the first thing this one is going to do is run to Cold and tell him what you have here.”

This one shook its head. “No trick. But this one does have a better location in mind where we can fight in private.”

Blackwing thought the idea over. “And where is this?”

“The Torch Amphitheater.”

The Torch Amphitheater was intended to be an area sitting along Freeport’s waterfront to feature a variety of sports and other forms of entertainment for thousands of people at a time. The old amphitheater at the waterfront was showing its age, with wear and tear and the passage of time taking its toll on the building to the point where it was starting to become an embarrassment. As such, the Council had commissioned the new building to serve Freeport’s entertainment needs, increase prestige, and to help pump money into the area.

Unfortunately, the building project had gone so hideously over budget and behind schedule that it became a major scandal for the Council and the companies involved in its construction. The Council had been forced to shut down construction pending investigation, and that was when at least a couple members of the Council were intimately involved in the construction and making oodles of money on the public coffer. But then the likes of Silver Cane probably couldn’t help but use such cheap building materials that the structure was breaking down mid-construction of the amphitheater. Silver seemed to be of the opinion that any ducat that was in someone else’s bit purse should belong to her.

In any event, construction was on hold until an investigation could be completed. Though the ‘investigation’ consisted more of everyone involved being locked in a bidding war to bribe their way out of being the goat that would inevitably be scaped to pacify the masses for the embarrassment. From the bits and pieces this one had gotten through the grapevine, the amphitheater had been so shoddily built that it was probably going to need to be plowed over and then rebuilt from scratch—all at considerable public expense and the detriment of the waterfront.

Blackwing and this one snuck into the half-built amphitheater. We walked past stone ready to be placed, as well as a multitude of tools, wheelbarrows, timber, and other materials, all lying about the place in a discarded manner as though construction had been interrupted mid-shift. Only about three-quarters of the amphitheater’s ring had been built, and the stands were in various states of construction. The northern quarter of the amphitheater was the most complete section of the structure, but that fact was badly marred by a large part of that quarter having collapsed in on itself. That collapse had killed several construction workers, and that event had been the final straw to bring further construction to a screeching halt.

Just another sign of the corruption that went right to the heart of Freeport. Well, there was at least one good part about this failed construction project: no one was here to bother us for what we were about to do.

Once we were in the center of the amphitheater’s floor, this one turned to Blackwing. The rain and wind lashed at us as lightning crashed above us, and the sandy floor had been turned into a morass interspaced by pools of water that slowly filtered water to open holes in the floor. The cold rain stole the warmth from this one, and threatened to penetrate to its core. “This one trusts this will serve as our battlefield?”

Blackwing head slowly turned as he took in our surroundings. He was probably checking if there was a trap anywhere nearby. Unfortunately there wasn’t, and he nodded. “A suitable dramatic battleground.”

“We shouldn't get interrupted.” This one unclasped its soaked cloak and let it fall to the ground. Its soggy weight would only slow this one down at this juncture, and this one would need to be able to move fast to beat Blackwing. “No work has been done here in months, and the storm should have driven nearly anyone else indoors.”

“Good.” Blackwing rolled his neck as he limbered up. “This one would hate to have an interruption when it’s this close to being done with you. Besides, this one’s been looking forward to this fight since our last one. It’s so rare this one gets a real challenge.”

“You're way too confident.” This one pulled out a potion and downed it.

Blackwing unsheathed his sword, and its blade reflected the streaks of lightning that danced in the sky. “Why shouldn't this one be confident when it's going to win?”

This one pulled out another potion to drink. “You see Blackwing, up until now this one has been protecting you.”

Blackwing snorted derisively. “Protecting this one? This one doubts that.”

“Oh yes, you might not see it that way, but it's true.” This one downed the potion before continuing. “This one was always careful about what sort of missions and assignments it gave you. This one does so hate to waste useful things, and that included you. So this one made sure to never send you into anything that would get you in over your head, and always stacked the deck in your favor. But now? Now you need to die.”

Blackwing frowned as he took a couple of practice swings of his blade. “Do you really think whatever you're drinking will give you an edge?”

“That is the idea.” This one drank another potion, adding it to the range of magical mixtures intended to increase its speed, strength, endurance and a range of other minor but significant effects. “Admittedly, you put this one on the defensive by finding the Vault. That doesn't happen often, but this one has experience in pulling victory from the jaws of defeat.”

“It won't be enough.” Blackwing smirked. “You’ve underestimated this one, and it’s going to make you pay for that. This one is going to kill you, and then everyone else who stands in its way.”

“You’re going to find that’s a very long list if you play things that way,” this one cautioned. “In this one's experience, there's always more enemies. The more you kill, the more you make, and the more everyone else sees you as a threat.”

“We'll see.” Blackwing shrugged, and some of his cocksure attitude fell to the side. “It's a pity, we had some good times together, but now the only way upwards is by going over you. This one would offer to let you work for me, but it knows you'd never do that for real.”

This one unsheathed one of its daggers. “You couldn't lead this one anywhere it couldn't go by itself.”

“That's true. Shame Freeport's only big enough for one of us now.” Blackwing raised his sword to strike as his body shifted into a fighting stance. “But enough about this one, let's kill you.”

“You can try.” This one transformed its forelegs into gryphon arms to let it better grip its weapons. The time to talk had come to an end. This one’s organization had been shattered, and now it was stuck in a fight for its life against the lieutenant that had aided its rival in fracturing the organization. Only one of us could be allowed to walk away from this fight.

“This one always prefers to do, not just try.” Blackwing’s hoof blurred as he pulled out and threw a dagger in one fluid motion. This one dodged to the side, and the dagger whiffed past its head. This one replied by throwing a trio of darts in quick succession with its telekinesis. Blackwing contorted his body to twist out of the way of two of the darts while using an armored foreleg to knock aside the third one.

“Second on the draw,” he said with a smirk. “Slow as ever, Puzzle.”

“The final blow is far more important than the first.” To emphasize this one’s point, it tossed a firegem at its traitorous lieutenant. Blackwing immediately flew up into the air and rushed this one. The firegem exploded behind him, its power somewhat muted by the rain and mud of the amphitheater floor, and he was on this one in a moment. Blackwing feinted a high stab before coming in low. This one’s dagger parried the blow to the side, and it pulled out another dagger with its free arm to slash at Blackwing’s neck. He jerked to the side to dodge the attack.

Blackwing’s hooves landed in the muck, and he skidded for several steps before arresting his momentum. Before he could properly turn and regain the initiative, this one charged him. A dagger knocked his sword to the side, and this one aimed the tip of its other dagger under his jaw. With silent command, the dagger’s blade shot up as it extended to the length of a longsword. But Blackwing saw the attack coming and jerked his head to the side just in time to avoid being impaled. Our blades flashed as they met in a series of feints, stabs, and slashes.

This one stabbed several times in quick succession at his head and neck, but Blackwing efficiently moved his blade side to side to turn the blows aside. Then he exploded forward, ramming his shoulder into this one’s cheek to knock it back a step. His sword slashed in a horizontal slice intended to take this one’s head, but it got its blades up in time to catch the blade. This one turned its dagger and sword to force Blackwing’s sword down, and while holding his blade down with its sword, slashed at his vulnerable neck with the dagger. But he got a leg up, and a clash of steel resounded as his bracer blocked the dagger.

We struggled in a grapple with one another, unable to easily disengage without giving the initiative to our opponent. “Do you think this one doesn’t know all your tricks, old bug?!”

Before this one could reply, Blackwing’s forelegs transformed into talons. He turned his arm to grab this one’s dagger arm by the wrist. He twisted this one’s arm, forcing it to drop the dagger. Sensing it was in trouble, this one let go of its sword and rammed its now free fist into his sternum. Blackwing let out a hack as some of the air was blown out of his lungs, and his grip on this one’s wrist weakened.

This one knocked one of his legs out from under him, and then tossed him down into the mud. Blackwing’s sword flashed up at this one as he hit the ground, but the blow lacked strength, and only stung this one as the steel glanced off the armor covering its shoulder. This one drew a fresh dagger and stabbed it down, aiming for a hole in his armor. Quick as lightning, Blackwing rolled to the side right before the dagger would’ve skewered him. He kept rolling away from this one until he adroitly got back to his hooves.

Blackwing held his sword between us, grinning with enjoyment. “Not bad, but you're already slowing down.”

“Quite the contrary, this one is just getting warmed up.” This one got two daggers in its talons and charged him. Blackwing slashed his blade, but this one parried his sword to the side. He kept backing up, trying to keep this one within the range of his sword, but out of where this one could stab into him with its daggers. But this one kept at him, striking at his blade repeatedly to knock it to the side to allow it to step closer and closer. This one grinned as it kept track of our surroundings. Blackwing was so intent on this one he wasn’t paying close enough attention to where he was falling back to. With an aggressive step forward, this one forced Blackwing back, but one of his rear legs slammed into a wheelbarrow with a loud clang. He stumbled a step as the wheelbarrow fell to the mud with a screech.

Seeing an invaluable opening as Blackwing was temporarily imbalanced, this one didn’t waste a second before it levitated out two more daggers and stabbed with all four of its weapons. But instead of trying to fall back or block, Blackwing bolted forward with a snarl. He parried one dagger, one missed, and he took the other two on his armor. Then he headbutted this one with his armored helm. This one’s vision flashed and the blow rocked its head back. This one stumbled, nearly losing its hoofing completely as it slid in the mud.

Why must people always headbutt this one? Did everyone want to give themselves brain damage from concussions?

But Blackwing was only stunned for a moment before he went back on the attack. Needing some breathing room, this one snapped out a smokebottle and threw it into Blackwing’s chest. Grey smoke exploded out from the shattered glass, and this one threw itself to the side in a roll. This one became caked in mud as it rolled back to its hooves. It ran and jumped over a nearby stack of bricks to land behind it. This one then pulled out another firegem and threw it into the smoke. The explosion blew the smoke away, revealing that Blackwing wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Did you think this one wouldn't see that coming?” Blackwing said from behind this one.

This one’s heart skipped a beat, and it spun as it got back to its hooves, but Blackwing wasn’t there. The next indicator this one got was when it heard the twang of a crossbow. A heartbeat later a flash of pain shot out from a bolt striking this one’s flank.

Off to the side, Blackwing smirked from behind a pile of rotting lumber. A small bolt was now sticking out of this one’s side. It wasn’t in deep, thankfully, but it was painful, and this one would bet it was poisoned. Blackwing must have used a ventriloquism spell to make this one think he was behind it, and this one had fallen for it. If it hadn’t been for this one’s armor then that might very well have been the end right there.

“You're past your prime.” Blackwing dropped the crossbow and brought his sword up. “Just give up, and I'll make it quick.”

“Sorry, but this one has an absolutely terrible stubborn streak,” this one grunted through the pain.

Blackwing hopped over the lumber pile, but this one was already pulling out the wand it’d taken from Ephemera. Green lightning fired from its tip, and Blackwing failed to dodge out of the way. The bolt struck his side and staggered him, but failed to do any damage as a magical charm around his neck cracked in half. This one fired again, running to keep the distance between us as it ran for the space under the amphitheater stands. Blackwing ducked behind a half-finished column that absorbed the shot. This one tossed a firegem to try and flush him out. It exploded, blowing away the column, but Blackwing was already climbing up through a hole into the upper reaches of the amphitheater.

Blackwing tossed down a couple of bottles through the hole. They shattered on the ground and a familiar nauseous green gas filled the space. Thankfully, this one had taken a potion to prevent the gas from significantly affecting this one like it had during our last fight, even if the smell was still absolutely horrible. Not wanting to stick around, this one ran through the green smokers to emerge back into fresh air. Good thing too, for not a second later the whole cloud burst into fire, its flames strong enough to sting this one as it fled.

This one ran and then slid behind a pile of bags of concrete and took stock of the situation. Blackwing was nowhere to be seen. Not good. That meant he was probably hiding somewhere. Either this one had spooked him, he had lost sight of this one and was stalking around trying to find it, or the bolt sticking out of this one’s side was indeed poisoned and he was merely waiting for it to do its insidious work. This one didn’t take a chance and drank a potion that should counteract most poisons. If that didn’t work ... no sense worrying about it. Either this one would survive or it wouldn’t. Best just to concentrate on what it could do to keep breathing.

This one examined the bolt wound it had suffered. As it originally guessed, the bolt had punched through this one’s carapace, but it hadn’t gone so deep as to puncture a lung. This one didn’t like the idea of pulling the bolt out, but fighting Blackwing with it sticking out of it was an even worse idea.

Before this one could do anything, Blackwing’s voice echoed through the amphitheater. “You've already lost, Puzzle! Give up and this one will make it quick!”

Hoping to keep him talking while this one treated its wound, this one cast its own ventriloquism spell to throw its voice. “Last this one checked, the fight wasn't over.”

Checking first to make Blackwing wasn’t sneaking up on it, this one bit down on the hilt of one of its daggers. Then with a tug of it’s telekinesis, it yanked the bolt out. It was a struggle not to scream, but pain was something this one was far too familiar with, and so it kept itself from making too much noise.

Blackwing’s voice echoed through the building, its sound difficult to determine. “You've gotten weak and soft, ever since you started rutting that Equestrian spy.”

This one forced down the anger rising up in it. He was merely trying to provoke it into making a mistake, but this one needed more time before it would be ready for round two of our fight. So this one kept talking. “You're mistaking kindness for weakness. Kindness is the purview of the strong, not to mention it has its advantages. For one, this one is having a great time with the Heartstrings-mare.”

This one didn’t waste any time and placed a bandage on the wound as it talked. It would have been preferable to stitch up that kind of wound, but this one didn’t have the luxury of time. Though Blackwing was giving this one precious seconds as his ventriloquism spell continued echoing through the amphitheater. “This one is curious, did you ever manage to get a taste of that hot little magus of yours before Blackfyre ripped her to pieces?”

Now he was just getting nasty. While this one liked the Shimmer-mare, this one was reasonably sure she didn’t have any kind of feelings like those towards it. Besides, this one was with the Heartstrings-mare. Though the comment about Blackfyre hit closer to home that it liked, even if it did remind this one of another reason why it needed to win this fight.

“How about you ask her if you kill this one. This one is sure she'll give you a decisive answer.” This one downed a pair of potions intended to deal with the pain and heal it.

“Maybe she'll be so happy to get a real mate she'll forget all about you!” Blackwing cried out. “Or did you have to shift into a mare to get any attention from her?”

This one slowly moved out from behind its cover. This one climbed up a wall and through a hole to get into the stands themselves. It slowly moved from cover to cover, watching for any movement around it as it kept talking, and this time it sought to turn the conversation around.

“Really, are jabs about this one’s sex life the best you can come up with? Do you think this one is some insecure hotheaded male or vainglorious idiot whose pride is so wounded by a few words? That’s pathetic if you think that will work on this one.” This one added a sneer to its next few words. “Besides, you’re one to talk. This one isn't confident you've ever even pleased a mate. This one didn't teach you anything like that, and all you know is what this one taught you.”

Blackwing snarled, and this one detected a hint of wounded pride. He had his talents, but being able to seduce others wasn’t one of them. “At least this one doesn’t have to pay for its food!”

This one got to a good vantage point when it climbed into where a spectator’s box would have been. This one chuckled mockingly to get under Blackwing’s carapace. “And you would still be hungry on the street if not for this one. See, this one earned everything it has. Everything you have this one gave to you. You would be nothing without it. Nothing. You wouldn't even have drawn Cold's attention if not for this one.”

“No one will care who you are after I kill you!” Blackwing all but screamed, his composure starting to break as his pride was repeatedly wounded.

“The same applies to you,” this one countered. “You see, even if you manage to kill this one, you’re as good as dead. Cold’s going to kill you once you’re done here. As soon as this one’s dead, you become an inconvenience. You know everything that’s happened with this one’s organization, making you a loose end, and Cold knows how to deal with loose ends. The condottieri barracks’ morgue is full of loose ends right now.”

“If Cold betrays this one then it’ll just have to out-betray him!” Blackwing’s voice wasn’t as steady as it was. This one wondered if Blackwing had even fully considered the idea that he might be disposable. “Besides, Cold's just the next stepping stone on my path, and he'll get the same as you soon enough!”

This one examined the stands, but nothing stood out. It didn’t help how the rain was making it all the harder to see or hear anything. So this one kept prodding Blackwing. “Please, chances are he's already decided how to dispose of you. He’s been playing this game a lot longer than you have, after all. To him, you're like a piece of toilet paper, something to be used and then thrown away. And your use to him is about at an end.”

“No he won’t! This one will replace him. Maybe this one will even get a Council Mask!”

This one couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “You think the Council would ever make you one of their own?”

“Once this one is the master of Freeport's streets? Yes.”

This one shook its head as a wealth of problems with the idea came to it. “You don't even like running your part of this one's organization: you find administration, meetings, and the day-to-day work of running an organization boring and beneath you. Ruling the streets would drive you insane, much less sitting on Council meetings talking about tax codes and districting policies.”

There was a hint of hesitation in his voice. “This one can delegate the boring parts.”

“That’s not how it works. You play the game like that, and those little boring parts are going to eat you alive.” This one ratcheted up the pressure by going for the jugular. “You're a disgrace. You're nothing more than a two bit thug who just so happens to have above average combat skills. You've got no vision, no unique spark, nothing to really set you apart from the rabble that this one didn't give you. You don't deserve to inherit what this one has built. You know what’s going to happen to you? You're going to die the same way you were born—as nothing. You'll die unmourned, without anyone giving a damn about who you were.”

A firegem flew at the section of the stands where this one had been projecting its voice. Stone and timber flew in every direction, but this one was concentrating on where the firegem had flown from. It was hard to see him, but he was sulking about among the patchwork of seats. This one couldn’t help but grin at the fact it had gotten him to expose himself. This one could imagine the fury on his face right then, and there was some stomping to the way he stalked around the arena.

This one tossed a thunderflash stone at a high angle so that it flew up and over Blackwing and landed on the far side of him. The explosion of light and sound caused him to spin to face the wrong direction. This one lept forward and took flight, flying forward as fast as it could. The rain and wind whipped at this one as it dove towards its target, and it pulled out and extended one of its daggers to its full length. Blackwing sensed the danger and spun around to face this one, but too late to get out of the way.

This one slashed with its sword, and Blackwing did his best to turn out of the way, but the blade still slashed him across the chest. His armor took the worst of the damage, but this one wasn’t done. This one used the forward momentum it had built up to slam its shoulder right into Blackwing’s side. The hit flung him back and he smacked right into the guardrail intended to keep guests from falling into the amphitheater pit. But the railing proved as shoddily constructed as the rest of the structure, and the bolts holding the railing snapped, sending Blackwing careening over the side. He failed to get his wings under him, and he smacked into the muddy ground below.

Sensing victory, this one jumped down and dove, its sword extended for the kill. Blackwing turned and his eyes widened. He grasped for his sword, but it had fallen out of leg’s length. This one closed the distance and stabbed down right at his chest. But instead of this one’s blade puncturing his breast, Blackwing rolled to the side at the last moment. This one’s sword skipped along the side of his armor, throwing off sparks until it drove into the mud. Before this one could recover, Blackwing rolled back around as quick as lightning and he drove a dagger through this one’s armor and into the side of its gut.

White hot pain shot through this one, and it stumbled back in pain while it instinctively clutched at the wound. Dots flashed over this one’s vision, and it was all this one could do to keep from collapsing and blacking out in the mud. A corner of this one’s mind realized that it had dropped its sword. This was bad, really bad.

Blackwing grinned with self-satisfaction as this one struggled to even stand. “It’s all over now. You can’t fight with a wound like that.” He slowly stood and rolled his shoulders and neck, the fall having taken its toll on him. “No amount of fast talking is going to get you out of this.”

He smirked as this one briefly staggered in place and continued to hold its wound. “Well, it was fun, Puzzle. But it looks like it's time to wrap this up.” He walked to where his sword was lying in the mud. “Don’t worry, this one will take care of everything when you’re gone. Like you said, Cold might betray this one, so it better get on top of that before he tries something. If it makes you feel better as you die, this one might tell Cold that you send your regards as it kills him. That’ll play with his head during his final moments, won’t it? This one will also have to deal with the Alya-mare, and the Penny-mare to make it a clean sweep. And best to kill the Shimmer-mare and your Equestrian whore too, for that matter. They’ll wonder what happened to you. So this—“

Blackwing bent down in order to pick up his sword laxidazily—an opening! This one forced the pain aside and charged him while pulling out its last dagger. He blinked as this one exploded into motion. He snatched up his sword, but his hurried attempts to get into a fight stance resulted in him slipping in the mud. His hooves moved back and forth as he tried to regain his balance.

This one used its telekinesis to toss a ball of mud right into his face. Blackwing cried out in surprise and he took a blind swing at this one. This one turned the blow aside with its shock bracer. This one brought up the dagger and stabbed down with everything it had. The dagger slammed home at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, slipping between the gap there in his armor.

Blackwing jerked in mix of surprise and pain. He instinctively tried to pull away, but this one tightened its grip on the dagger and held him firm. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and this one leaned in so that he could hear this one speak. “You should have gone for the kill instead of fooling around.”

This one sent a burst of will into the dagger, and it extended to its full length inside of Blackwing. The blade punched down at an angle and punctured the armor around his barrel, and the sharpened steel dripped with his green blood. Blackwing stumbled back before slipping in the mud and falling to the ground.

He stared up at this one with his stupefied, wide-eyed look. “You ... You...”

This one breathed heavily as it clutched at its wound. “You stopped to celebrate right before you crossed the goal line, Blackwing. You were this close to winning, but—” This one grunted as a flash of pain shot through this one. “A wound like this won’t kill this one for hours. Your wound will be killing you much faster. Never stop, never give up, right up to the end. That’s why this one is going to live, and you’re going to die.”

Blackwing’s mouth worked wordlessly, whether because he was too weak to make himself actually speak or he was too stunned to say anything coherent, this one could only guess. The life drained out of him, and soon he was still, his eyes now glassy stars of the dead. He was left with a perpetually confused, wide-eyed pondering look on his face. He probably didn't even understand what was going on right up into death.

After making sure he wasn’t going to get up again, this one slowly shambled to try and find someplace dry. Every step sent a jolt of pain through this one’s body, and it was all it could do to keep putting one hoof in front of the other. The rain and wind continued to lash against this one, and this one nearly lost its footing several times as it struggled forward. After what felt like a small eternity, this one managed to make its way within the amphitheater and found a reasonably dry stone to sit down on. Doing so sent another shock of pain that nearly made this one vomit, and this one clutched at its wound.

This one reached with shaking and bloodied hooves, and cursed as it couldn’t help but fumble with the small pouch it was trying to pull open. Eventually, this one managed what should have been a simple task and pulled out a gem. This one crushed it between its hooves, activating its magic. Platinum should be notified where this one was, and with luck the Free Companions would find this one before it succumbed to the gut wound.

Little else to be done, this one leaned back, and tried to make itself as comfortable as it could while pressing a bandage to its wound. This one turned its thoughts to the past few days as it tried to stay awake despite the exhaustion and pain.

What a waste. Everything about what had happened to this one’s organization was a disaster. Two of its lieutenants were dead and the third was completely untrustworthy. All of them were talented in their own ways, and then it had all fallen apart over a few months. Great harm had been done to the organization, both physically and in its reputation. But by sunrise it would all be over.

Not that this one could consider this a victory. A pyrrhic victory, that’s what this was. This one had survived, maybe, if it got to a hospital fast enough. But many of the organization's assets had been destroyed, and skilled personnel were gone or soon would be. The Gustav-gryph and the Alya-mare had been played like fiddles by Blackwing, and torn the organization to bits between them. Now it was up to this one to pick up the pieces.

Damn Cold, this one was going to kill him for this, someday. If this one survived its wound. This one could well imagine Cold laughing if Blackwing and this one ended up mutually killing each other. All he would need to do was silence the Penny-mare and the Alya-mare, simple enough a task for him with the organization now all but shattered, and he’d have a clean sweep of the whole affair. This one needed to live, to spite Cold if nothing else.

And that wouldn’t be it, not if this one had anything to say about it. One day, Cold was going to pay for this: with his life. This one was going to rebuild, and this time do a better job of it. Then one day this one was going to take Cold to task for everything he had done. This whole affair had made it quite clear that the two of us couldn’t co-exist in peace, and this one wasn’t going anywhere. First step was that—

A splash in a nearby puddle snapped this one out of its thoughts. This one’s heart clenched when it saw hoofprints in the mud, and more were being made in its direction. This one moved to stand but a flash of pain caused its whole body to seize up and forced it back down. The adrenaline from the fight with Blackwing had long worn off, and the dagger sticking out of its guts made it impossible to move.

Whoever was trying to sneak up on this one saw that this one had noticed them, and their steps quickened into a run. Changing tactics, this one used its telekinesis to pull out a potion that would turn this one into a gaseous cloud and allow it to escape. But grabbing and pulling out the potion’s stopper proved unusually slow, between pain and fatigue, it was hard to concentrate even on such a simple spell. The bottle reached this one’s lips when its invisible assailant slapped it away. The potion flew to the side and smashed against a nearby pillar.

This one reached for a dagger, but found nothing there. Damnit, this one forgot it had already used that dagger. Time ran out, and this one’s assailant grabbed this one by the foreleg and twisted it painfully to hold this one in place. Another shock of pain ran through this one as its body was abused.

This one repaid him for the unkindness for blasting him with its shock bracer. His cry became a gurgle as the electricity ran through him, but he kept a tight hold on this one despite the fact he should have been flash-fried from that attack. He must have had some sort of protection from the electricity. Had he come prepared for this one?

The situation only got worse as someone else grabbed this one’s other foreleg, and locked it behind this one’s back. The pain from being pinned in place nearly caused this one to black out from pain.

The invisibility on this one’s assailants dissipated, revealing a pair of heavily armored zebras. True Heirs, this one realized as it recognized the badges and other decorations on their armor. But why were the True Heirs here? Had Cold hired them? Were they here for vengeance for some slight in the past and were taking advantage of the chaos in this one’s organization? Or—

“Careful!” a familiar voice cried out. “He’s wounded, and I want him alive.”

This one grunted, forcing words through its lips despite the pain. “Alya-mare, what are you doing?!”

The invisibility magic around the Alya-mare fell away, leaving her standing in front of this one with a pensive frown. “I’m sorry about this, Puzzle. I really am.”

Tears in the Rain

The clouds overhead boomed as this one glowered at the Alya-mare. Water dripped through the shoddily crafted amphitheater as we faced one another within its shadowed depths. The True Heir mercenaries held this one in place. Not that this one was in any condition to fight with the dagger sticking out of its guts.

“How did you find this one?” this one asked.

“You’re not the only one with access to magic. After our last talk, I decided to get some extra help.” The Alya-mare motioned at the True Heirs with an upraised hoof. “I placed a tracking gem on your gear. Originally that was to make sure you wouldn’t end up someplace where I couldn’t send a rescue team. But well...” She shrugged. “Priorities changed.”

Damn, it was a mistake to leave a set of gear at the safehouse, and doubly so when this one hadn’t taken the effort to make sure it hadn’t been bugged. This one had gotten sloppy in its haste.

This one glanced at the True Heirs that had a firm hold of it. “You had claimed you were broke, yet you seem to have pulled together enough coin to hire some mercenaries. What was it, a rainy day fund you’d hidden away, sold off some of your remaining assets or did you just straight-up steal some of the money this one gave you?”

“Didn't you always tell me to keep a hidden ace in the hole?”

“That much is true. Though this one repeats its first question, what are you doing?”

“Securing you.” The Alya-mare’s lips drew tight as she watched the True Heirs pat this one down. “Sorry, but I think we need to change the nature of this partnership.”

“So you decided to betray this one? You moved a lot faster than this one thought you would.” This one had deeply worried something like this might be inevitable, but the Alya-mare had never really been the type to act this quickly. She was the type to make careful, thought-out decisions, not spontaneous and critically decisive ones.

“You always taught me not to waste time once I'd made up my mind.” The Alya-mare sighed and ran a hoof through her mane. “Look, I don't like this, but we both know you'll never treat me as an equal partner no matter what promises you make.”

Given how bad things looked, this one decided to try to convince her not to do anything extreme. Well, more extreme. “We could have come to an equitable agreement. In fact, we still can—this doesn't need to come to violence.”

The Alya-mare shook her head. “You've promised me an equitable arrangement before, and we saw how that ended. You could have told me what you were up to back at the safehouse.” She looked out into the arena pit where Blackwing’s corpse lay in the mud. “But then you ran off for a deathmatch.”

“Like this one promised, it took care of Blackwing.” This one coughed, and the taste of blood came to its tongue. “Just like how you helped take care of the Gustav-gryph.”

The Alya-mare grumbled as she rubbed her brow. “Of course he decided to tell you about my part in that.”

“He does like to brag,” this one said. “It is—was a flaw of his. So why in the world did you decide to work with him?”

Her brow furrowed. “Because Gustav needed to die for betraying the organization. Maybe you were content to let him walk around with a big bag of ducats, but I wasn’t. Letting him do that was just going to make me look weak in front of everyone else in the organization. Besides, I thought you or Goldtalon would catch Blackwing when he made his move. Shame it didn’t work out that way.”

“No, it didn’t, you badly judged that situation. There were too many variables you didn’t control, and you let a personal rivalry get the better of your judgment.”

The Alya-mare scoffed. “Oh, you’re one to talk. Besides, I have you now, and with you as my captive I’ve won the street war.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” This one stared her in the eye. “This isn’t going to turn out the way you think it will, but if you take this one to the hospital, it promises to forget that this little transgression happened.”

The Alya-mare’s ear twitched. “You can promise a lot of things, Puzzle, but when it comes to follow-through you don't deliver anything that would keep you from being in total control. If I want to be more than a glorified flunky, I have to seize this opportunity. Because if I don’t, you won’t give me a second one.”

This one grimaced in pain as the True Heirs started removing every bit of gear on it. This one’s weapons, potions, and bags fell away as they packed everything onto a pile. “So is this what it was all about, you being in control?”

The Alya-mare snorted. “You'll never treat me as anything more than another untrustworthy pawn to be manipulated. Forget that I've been with you forever; how long we've worked together and everything we've been through. I was with you all those years while you were in exile—helped you come back to Freeport and build this organization from scratch. But in the end I still play second banana to an EIS spy and a bucking teenager!”

“That's not true at all. This one...” This one sighed and shook its head as it realized how everything must have seemed from the Alya-mare’s perspective. There was so much she didn’t know—couldn’t know—and that was largely due to this one’s actions. “Yes, this one has not treated you as well as it should have, but there is a bigger game being played here. You need to understand, you've been manipulated, the whole organization has been.”

The Alya-mare snarled. “You've played me every day of my life for the last decade. From the very first moment we met, you’ve manipulated me.”

This one shook its head. “You don’t understand: Blackwing played you and the Gustav-gryph. He got you two suspicious of one another and fed you bad information so that you two would end up fighting.”

The Alya-mare scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been spending months going over everything that happened leading up to the street war. That and I’ve been collecting what information I could. In hindsight, I know Blackwing took advantage of me, and it’s more than a bit suspicious that my bank accounts got frozen right as everything went to Tartarus. There’s only so many people that could make that happen, and keep those accounts frozen while giving me the bureaucratic run around for months on end. So yeah, I know there’s a bigger game being played here. You said as much a few days ago: it doesn’t change what I need to do here.”

This one tried to appeal to her self-interest. “Haven’t you benefited from this one’s leadership? Whatever you think of this one’s methods, this one has helped to make you rich.”

“Yeah you did, but at the end of the day I was always just another pawn to you.” Getting a nod from her mercs, the Alya-mare moved closer to this one. “Did you give me any of that for any reason beyond keeping me loyal?”

This one grimaced. “You were this one's friend.”

The Alya-mare snorted. “I'm not sure you have friends or are even capable of making them. All I’ve ever seen you do is manipulate people at every opportunity for your own ends. Doesn’t matter who they are; allies, casual acquaintances, enemies, ‘friends’—it doesn’t matter. We’re all just pieces on the board to you.”

This one shook its head. “We all manipulate everyone. Some of us are just more honest about it.”

“That old excuse,” the Alya-mare sneered. “Well no. Not everyone's like you, Puzzle. Most people don’t feel compelled to make everyone around them dance like puppets. Normal people don’t just see friends and family as a means to an end. You don’t just do favors for people you like because you want something out of them later, you do it because you actually want to help them. Because that’s what good people do. But then, I’m not sure you could ever understand that. You’re so wrapped up in your rules about how people should act that you’ve lost sight of what it’s like to be a normal person.”

That cut closer to the bone than this one liked, but the Alya-mare was still wrong. “Yes, this one doesn’t act like normal people, because it doesn’t want to be like everyone else. Acting like everyone else is how you end up like everyone else. If you want different results—if you want to do something special—then you need to be willing to do things that make you exceptional. This one was reduced to nothing when it was exiled. Where most would become dejected or quietly seek a life of mediocrity in Port Nowhere, this one took chances, did what it took to prosper, and earned its way back to Freeport. And now this one is the most powerful and influential information broker in Freeport.”

The Alya-mare rolled her eyes. “And now we see where that’s gotten you: a dagger in your gut and no friends or allies in sight.”

“On that much we can agree.” This one furrowed its brow. “So what's your plan? You have this one at your mercy but you haven't killed it yet, so this one doubts you just wanted to stand around and brag about your victory.”

The Alya-mare drew in a deep breath before letting it out in a huff. “I need your list of contacts, account numbers, and everything else that lets you run your organization. If I’m going to take over, then I need to know everything you do.”

This one scoffed. “So do you plan on torturing this one? Because this one hardly feels compelled to tell you that information.”

She shook her head. “Torture doesn't work, and especially not for someone like you. But you're not the only one who knows a couple of spellcasters. I know a guy who can break into your head and take what I need.”

That set this one’s teeth on edge. “So are you planning on turning this one into a vegetable, just like what the Shimmer-mare did to Metal Mome? Because that’s what it’s going to take to get this one’s secrets. This one knows how to fight against mental intrusions, and it will break before it bends.”

The Alya-mare stiffened. “I'd rather not have it go that way, but if you force my hoof...” She let out a long breath. “You know, when I came out here, no small part of me was hoping to find you dead with Blackwing standing over your corpse. At least then it would have been easy.”

“This one’s heart weeps for you and the hard decisions you have to make,” this one said. “What will you tell the Council? They’re going to have questions, and uncomfortable ones.”

The Alya-mare sniffed. “You think the Council cares whether you live or die? All they want is this street war done with, they don't give a damn about you. In fact, from what I can tell they'd probably prefer you dead.”

That wasn’t exactly untrue, especially for some Councilors. This one suspected Cold Comfort would dance on its grave. “And what of the Shimmer-mare, or the Heartstrings-mare? You think they won't look into this?”

“I'm sure they’ll be very sad to hear about how you died of your wounds after fighting Blackwing,” she answered. “If need be, I’ll misdirect them by hinting at who was really behind this big mess. Given how much of a firecracker Sunset is, I’m sure she’ll just be happy to have a target to focus her hurt and anger on. As long as that target isn’t me, I’ll be fine.”

This one grunted and laced its words with venom. “Sounds like you have all the angles down. Congratulations, you successfully betrayed this one, captured it, and will proceed to mentally torture it until you get everything you need to live what will no doubt be a long and successful career leading the organization. This one is so proud of you.”

There was a twitch of a wince in the Alya-mare’s face. “It doesn't have to be that way. Just ... don't fight it. Make it quick and easy.”

“And then what?” this one demanded. “After you get what you want out of this one you'll kill it anyways? Sorry, but giving up isn’t this one’s way.”

She stared at this one for a long time before sighing. “Is there any way to let you live without constantly looking over my shoulder for you?”

This one seized that opening. “We can agree to go our separate ways. You do your business ventures, and this one goes on to do its own thing. We leave each other alone and forget this ever happened.”

The Alya-mare’s eyes narrowed. “Like what happened with you and Cold?”

This one shook its head. “That's entirely different. Our relationship doesn’t have to be anywhere near as destructive as that rivalry.”

The Alya-mare rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “I'd like to believe you ... but I don't. I just can’t trust someone who's a serial liar and manipulator, not after everything that’s happened. I hate to say it, but it’s over between us.”

This one’s ears wilted. “You know what this one struggles with? The pull between doing the good thing and the right thing. People claim they're the same thing, but far too often they're not.”

The Alya-mare’s head cocked to the side. “That so?”

“In this one's experience, sometimes you have to do a bad thing in order to do what's best for what you care about. The world isn’t a clean place, and sometimes you have to make messy decisions to get things done.”

“And sometimes it means screwing others over to make yourself better off?” The Alya-mare crossed her legs as she stared off into the rainy night. “You think I couldn’t tell that you were planning on giving me the ax as soon as you didn't need me anymore?”

It was true this one was planning on removing her as a problem. Things ... had progressed beyond what this one desired. Still, this one had hoped that things wouldn’t be taken that far. “If this one was merely planning on removing you as an obstacle, it would have killed you during our last talk. It would have been easy, but... this one didn’t want to hurt its friend if it could be prevented.”

The Alya-mare scowled at this one. “Yeah, but the second I became inconvenient you wanted to dump me.” She took a deep breath. “You know the ironic thing about all of this? The reason I pushed Gustav so hard and tried to take the reins of the organization was to prove to you that I could stand by your side. I thought that if I was running everything by the time you returned, you’d see that I should be your partner. Guess it didn’t turn out that way, though. Now I’m just going to have to do what I need to, no matter how much it sucks.”

“You're not going to win here, Alya-mare,” this one told her. “This one suggests you give up while you still have a chance.”

The Alya-mare quirked an eyebrow. “You're hurt bad enough that I could let you die by just walking away. I've already won. It’s just a matter of how things play out in the endgame.” She waved at her mercs. “Finish patching him up for transport, we’re getting out of here.”

This one’s vision swam from pain as the True Heirs lifted it up. “As long as this one is alive, it's still in the game.”

“Well, I'll fix that soon enough.’ The Alya-mare sighed as she shook her head. “I hate that it has to end this way, but you didn't give me any other choice.”

“And neither do you.”

This one grunted as the carriage hit another bump along the road. Each damn pothole felt like this one was getting stabbed again. The True Heirs did what they could to patch this one up, but that consisted of little more than bandaging it up so that the dagger wouldn’t shift so easily and stop the bleeding. What this one really needed was to see a doctor. But then the Alya-mare didn’t exactly have a lot of reasons to keep this one alive. Still, even in this one’s wounded state, the Alya-mare was keeping an eye on it inside the carriage alongside one of her True Heir mercs. The rest were outside guarding the carriage as we proceeded down the rain-slick streets.

This one wasn’t sure which was worse: the pain from the dagger, or that from the Alya-mare’s betrayal. We had been together for so many years, worked and prospered together, and it had come to this. The Alya-mare now hated this one so much that she was willing to break even the sanctity of its mind to get what she wanted. This one wanted to blame Cold and Blackwing for all of this, but the doubts that this one was at fault for the breaking of our friendship kept nagging at it.

This one clutched at its belly as a pothole sent another shock of pain through this one. The Alya-mare glared and slammed her hoof three times against the front of the carriage. She yelled out to the two drivers. “Careful! If you kill Puzzle because you hit every stupid pothole along the way, it’s both of your hides.”

The mercenary opposite of this one snorted. “Why does it matter? He's dead soon anyway.”

“Just...” She sighed as she fell into silence.

The merc shrugged. “You pay the bills.” He turned to the drivers. “Just slow down and watch where you’re going. We’ve got valuable cargo.”

The drivers did as they were told, and we rode for a time in silence. After our talk, it didn’t seem this one and the Alya-mare had much to talk about anymore. That and this one was just in so much pain and so weary that it didn’t particularly want to chat.

The knock on the carriage door interrupted the silence, and one of the mercs peered through the carriage window. “We’re being followed.”

The Alya-mare’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Don't know,” the merc said. “The rain’s making it hard to see anything. Pretty sure it's a changeling flying around and jumping from roof to roof. We've only been catching glimpses of it, but it’s shadowing us.”

The Alya-mare pressed her lips together. “Who's your backup, Puzzle?”

Despite this one’s pain, it started to grin. “Who said this one had backup?”

The Alya-mare scowled at this one. “Puzzle, don't make this harder than it has to be.”

This one decided to deflect the question as it looked outside the carriage door window. “Hm, looks like we're going down Sugar Row. We're going to the safehouse you have near the drydocks? The one you thought this one didn't know about?”

Blackwing might have been neglectful in his duties, but when he did his work he did good stuff. That included discovering many of the little secrets this one’s employees tried to keep from it. And now this one was going to use that information to rattle the Alya-mare a bit. It always upset people for them to find out that their secrets weren’t so secret.

The Alya-mare grimaced as though struck. “Knowing that won't change anything.”

“This one disagrees.”

The Alya-mare’s brow furrowed as she grew suspicious. “What’re you planning?”

This one wouldn’t help but add a bit of mirth to its tone. “You’re going to need to be more specific. This one is always planning, several steps ahead with several different plans whenever possible.”

“Enough of your games. Tell me—” The carriage coming to a sudden halt interrupted the Alya-mare, and she turned to the drivers. “ What's going on?! Why did we stop?!”

The True Heir merc outside spoke up again. “Ma'am, your safehouse... It's on fire.”

The Alya-mare moved to look out the front window. Beyond and down the street a warehouse that served as her secret safehouse burned. She muttered several especially foul Zebrican curses as she watched the roof of the safehouse collapse.

“Problems, Alya-mare?” this one asked.

She turned a furious glare on this one. “How did you know I would take you here?!”

This one bared its fangs in a smirk. “This one didn't.”

The Alya-mare blinked several times. “Then ... how?!”

This one leaned forward and spoke in a low, menacing whisper. “If you want to replace this one, then you need to start figuring out how to be this one. That includes knowing how to deal with a crisis. But you’ve always depended on this one to pull us out of the fire, haven’t you, Alya-mare? Well, time to see how you do on your own.”

The Alya-mare started to tremble. “What did you do?”

This one’s smirk widened. “What this one always does: it rigged the game.”

The Alya-mare sat back in her seat and her face blanched. Several valuable seconds ticked by before she started slamming her hoof against the front of the carriage. “We've got trouble! Get this carriage moving! Now!”

The drivers hesitated. “Where do you want us to go?”

“Anywhere but here!” the Alya-mare cried. “Get us out of here!”

The drivers started to turn the carriage around, but then one of them cried out in pain. He fell against his partner, who only managed to half catch him as he was nearly bowled over. The driver’s eyes widened as he saw the crossbow bolt sticking out of his cohort. All he did was stare before two more crossbow bolts struck him in turn. Both of them half-collapsed to the cobblestones as they were held in place by the carriage harnesses.

Pandemonium broke out. The whistle of more crossbow bolts sounded through the rain, and cries of pain and confusion rose up from the True Heirs. This one glanced out the window and saw that there were pegasi and gryphons perched on the roofs of the buildings overlooking the street, and they were all in the process of firing or reloading their weapons. The rain and wind didn’t do their aim any favors, and this much dampness would likely shorten the lives of their crossbows. But they were making up for these problems by reloading, aiming, and firing with the type of mechanical precision that only countless hours of practice could bring. Even worse for the True Heirs, they lacked the means and weapons to strike back at their roof-bound attackers.

The zebra in charge of the squad of True Heirs started issuing orders to get to cover, but this only drew the attention of their assailants and he was quickly hit from multiple directions. Order broke down amongst the True Heirs as panic started setting in.

“Dammit!” the Alya-mare cried as she started fumbling for her potions.

The merc inside of the carriage frowned as he watched the chaos unfold, and then winced as a bolt struck the cart right near his head. “We’re going to need to make a run for it.” He glowered at this one. “Want to just kill him and be done with it?”

“No!” the Alya-mare immediately answered. “I need him. If he dies then you don’t get your bonus.”

The merc’s teeth flashed in his scowl. “Can’t collect my bonus if I’m dead. Time to cut—”

A familiar voice from outside the carriage shouted over the merc. “Puzzle! Delta!”

This one recognized the Free Companions' signal to get down and immediately fell down to the floor of the carriage. Doing so caught a flash of pain that resulted in spots in this one’s vision, but it didn’t take long for this one to see it had done the right thing.

A second after this one hit the floor, a flaming broadsword slashed through the side of the carriage like it was paper. The True Heir didn’t even realize what was happening before the burning blade popped off his head. The Alya-mare was luckier. She was on the far end of the sword’s arc, and quick reflexes let her dodge under the swing. Though the top of her mohawk was still taken off, leaving singed ends to her mane.

The Alya-mare scurried back and started grasping for the door handle in a panic. “That's Dawnbringer!”

Platinum ripped open the door and flashed the Alya-mare a cold smile. “Nice to know my reputation precedes me.”

This was a welcome sight. Platinum took a step into the carriage, but she turned when one of the True Heirs shouted a battle cry and charged her from the side. The True Heir didn’t reach her before a bolt punched through his armor and into his flank. He staggered and threw a half-hearted jab at Platinum. She easily parried the blow to the side and then swept Dawnbringer back around to take the merc’s head off.

The Alya-mare took the invaluable distraction and opened the carriage door opposite of Platinum. She hopped out, but instead of running for her life, she grabbed this one around the head and started dragging it out of the carriage. This one tried to fight against her, but pain and weakness prevented it from putting up too much resistance. Still, this one gave her a swift punch to the face that made her head rock back. She responded by pulling a knife out and putting it to this one’s throat.

“You’re coming with me!” Throwing her full weight behind it, she dragged this one out of the carriage and into the torrential downpour outside. She attempted to get this one back on its hooves, but its legs were like jelly by this point, and it didn’t particularly want to go along with her. She should have made her escape, tried to get out from the aim of the crossbows and danger, but instead she dragged this one along the cobblestones.

All about us were dead and wounded True Heir mercs, most of them with crossbow bolts in them as at least two dozen Free Companions continued loading and firing down on them. The Alya-mare didn’t get far before Platinum flew over the carriage and landed opposite of the Alya-mare to block off her escape. She leveled Dawnbringer on the Alya-mare, and its blade hissed as the rain fell upon it.

“This is as far as you go,” Platinum declared. “Drop the knife and give up. It’s over.”

“No!” The Alya-mare tightened her grip on this one and pressed her knife against its throat. “Come near me and I kill him!”

Platinum’s eyes narrowed. “Kill him and you’re dead in five seconds. We’ve all got a big bonus tied up in keeping Puzzle alive, so if you open his throat every Companion here is going to have a very personal reason to fill you full of holes.”

The Alya-mare’s teeth showed as she scowled down the length of Dawnbringer’s blade. “How? How did you know how to find us?”

“You’re not the only one with access to tracking magic, Alya-mare,” this one told her. “This one activated a tracking gem back at the amphitheater. It was only a matter of time until they found this one. You’d lost before you even got started.”

“No, nonono, this can’t all be part of some plan of yours.” The Alya-mare shook her head to herself. “You can’t always win. It’s impossible!”

This one moved in to shatter her shaken morale. “What did this one tell you? It rigged the game from the start. You see, this one wrote a little contingency into its contract with the Companions—several of them, in fact. It was always a possibility that this one would need to destroy the organization, either because it was unsalvageable or because one or more of its lieutenants had taken it over and planned on using its full resources against it.”

The Alya-mare grew terribly still as she contemplated this one’s words. “No, you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t. We spent years building the organization. You wouldn’t just destroy it all in one night!”

This one did its best to look her in the eyes as it spoke. “Oh, but this one would, and it has. After Blackwing’s stunt and your lack of loyalty, it became necessary. The Council is going to be ticked at this one come morning, and so this one will have a sacrifice ready to pacify them. By morning the organization will be gone. This one told the Companions where to find everything: the warehouses, the safehouses, personnel—everything. They’re setting torch to it all and everyone who works for the organization will be given one of two options: take a severance package and go into exile, or suffer much more severe and permanent consequences.”

“He’s right, Alya,” Platinum said. “I’ve got every Companion and several subcontractors running around the city destroying your organization. Nothing is going to be left by the time we’re done. Even if you somehow escaped from here, you’ll have no resources, no place to hide, and no one left working for you. You’ve got a losing hand. Fold before you make this worse than it has to be.”

The Alya-mare’s face paled as her eyes flicked to her burning safehouse and then to her mercenaries lying on the ground around us. She swallowed and muttered a curse to herself.

“Guess I should've known I couldn't beat you. Stupid to try. Still, I've got one move even you didn't see coming.” The Alya-mare pulled out a vial of green, luminous liquid.

This one’s teeth clenched. “What are you trying?!”

“Deathfog,” the Alya-mare said through staggered breaths. “One whiff of this, and ... well the name says it all, doesn't it?”

Indeed, deathfog was every bit as nasty as its name suggested. It was very difficult and expensive to make, and this one didn’t have a clue she had any of it.

Really, most would consider it too dangerous to keep around on their person. Deathfog was notoriously deadly, and once its mixture met the air it spread fast and in a very wide area. It was unlikely anyone on the street, roofs, and probably anyone in the surrounding buildings would survive if that bottle broke.

Had the Alya-mare’s experiences driven her to the point of even contemplating using such a dangerous weapon? We couldn’t exactly take the chance that she wouldn’t use the deathfog, because what else did she have to lose by this point?

Platinum hissed and her stance shifted so that she could strike at the Alya-mare at a moment’s notice, but even then she wouldn't be able to reach this one’s traitorous lieutenant before she broke the bottle. “There's enough in there to—”

“Yup.” The Alya-mare flashed a tight smile. “You're right, Puzzle. I can't win. But we can still all lose together.”

This one thought very carefully before it spoke in a calm and neutral tone. “So let's make a deal.”

The Alya-mare’s nostrils flared as she glared at Platinum. “What kind of deal?”

“You leave Freeport with a severance package and never return,” this one said. “This one makes sure you also get everything from your bank accounts and anything else that can be salvaged. That should be more than enough to start over in the Zebrican Empire, especially when you’ve been sending money back home to help your family build up its business there.”

“You think I would just give up that easily?” The Alya-mare tried to sound determined, but this one could hear the waver in her voice.

This one shook its head. “There's nothing left for you here. This one made sure it’s all burning. What will you gain from spite, Alya-mare? You can kill this one and everyone on this street, but to what end? You’ll still be dead. Why not go back home to your family, live a long, happy and productive life? You’re smart enough to rebuild and you’ll have plenty of money to make it happen. You’re taking a loss here, but part of life is knowing when to accept your loss, pick yourself up, and start over. Choose to start over. Don’t die for nothing here.”

The Alya-mare sighed and shook her head. “There you go again, manipulating me. You’re so damned good at this: making what you want sound so stupidly reasonable that it seems like the only right thing to do. So let me ask you, you'd really just leave it at that? After everything that’s happened, you’d just let me walk away and live that long, happy, and productive life you talked about?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? No small part of this one wanted to kill her for betraying it. She had planned on turning this one into a mentally broken vegetable, and then let this one bleed out on the inside so she could present a corpse to the Council. This one had every reason to be furious with her.

But ... she had once been a friend, even if that was over now, and there were practical concerns to worry about. None of us gained anything if we all died here and now, and at the end of the day, this one was a practical changeling, first and foremost.

“For you, yes.” This one slowly moved its leg to motion at the gathered Companions and even the wounded or captured True Heirs. “This one is making a promise in front of everyone. If it breaks that promise, everyone will come to know about it, and then this one’s word will no longer be trusted within Freeport society.”

The Alya-mare’s ear twitched. “Or you're just playing me. You can pay your mercs to stay quiet and silence the True Heirs.”

“This one can try, but it doubts it would work,” this one said. “There are too many witnesses here to keep rumors from spreading. All it would take is one set of loose lips from one person, and then the secret would spread to all of Freeport by the end of the day.”

“Besides, I’m not in the habit of slaughtering prisoners,” Platinum said. “Surrender and I promise you fair treatment. As Captain of the Free Companions, you have my word on that.”

The Alya-mare stared at us as the rain continued to soak us. She straightened herself and her grip tightened on the deathfog. “So what—”

A flying dagger slammed into the back of the Alya-mare’s neck. She staggered a step and her hoof shot to her throat.

This one moved to catch her as she started to fall, but then the deathfog fell from her hoof. This one’s hooves shot towards the potion instead to try and keep it from hitting the ground and killing us all.

It bounced off this one’s right hoof, its surface slick from the rain, and its left hoof knocked it back into the air. This one scooped the potion to its chest as it fell to the ground. Stars flashed in its vision at the impact, and this one held the potion close to its chest.

Long seconds ticked by as nothing happened but the continued pattering of the rain. A flurry of questions ran through this one. Had the glass broken? Who had thrown that dagger? Why? Was the Alya-mare dead? Were we all dead? Had the deathfog slipped from this one’s grip?

This one took in a slow and reluctant breath. This one didn’t immediately suffer a sudden and horrible death, so it peeled its eyes open. Shifting its forelegs revealed that the potion was safely nestled against its chest, unbroken. The Alya-mare was not in nearly so good a condition, down on the ground, her eyes wide with terror as she clutched her bleeding throat.

Kunai lept from the top of the carriage to land on the street next to the Alya-mare. Her target barely had time to register her presence before another thin knife slammed into her throat, plunging upwards with a single motion. Before any of us could react, Kunai twisted the knife and the Alya-mare’s head around, a violent crack echoing in the air.

The Alya-mare went very still, and the spark of life left her eyes.

“Endless night that was close,” Kunai said, visibly slumping as she sighed.

“You could have gotten us all killed pulling that stunt!” Platinum growled. “We were in the middle of negotiating!”

“She was about to kill herself and take us all with her with that deathfog.” Kunai pulled her dagger out and cleaned the blood off of it. “You do remember that part, right?”

“Sure,” Platinum scowled. “This was not worth subcontracting—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for saving your overdressed rear from deathfog, as well as the rest of this city block,” Kunai snapped. “This one hopes you believe in hazard pay. And this one thinks it should be worth something when it ended this street war by killing the Alya-mare, and saved Puzzle’s life.”

Platinum grumbled something under her breath as she knelt next to this one. This one wanted to pay Platinum to kill Kunai right then and there, whatever it cost. We had been so close to ending things peacefully—as peacefully as they could be resolved after the massive bloody mess that had occurred. Then Kunai killed her, just like that, and now she wanted to be paid for the pleasure of killing this one’s friend. Was Kunai right about not taking a chance with the Alya-mare? Were we talking her down, or was she a mere second from killing us all with her bottle of deathfog?

Whatever the truth was, we would never find out, and this one knew it would be going over what happened over and over again for a very long time from now.

This one’s heart clenched. The Alya-mare was dead. All of this one’s lieutenants were dead. The street war was over, but this didn’t feel like a victory.

The Alya-mare had made her own decisions, but this one had made many decisions since returning to Freeport that contributed to this series of events. No small one being to hire Platinum to destroy the organization, and she had subcontracted other mercs like Kunai to make it happen. Cause and effect.

Who was most to blame for what happened? This one for setting up the organization in a way that allowed for it to fall into infighting and the Alya-mare to turn on it? Cold for plotting against this one? Blackwing for his manipulations and selfishness? The Alya-mare’s ambitions?

And did it really matter who was most to blame for the destruction of the organization? What had happened had happened, and if this one survived, it would do what it was going to do in response to the events of the past few days. And as this one had already said, it was ultimately a practical changeling at heart. Even if some days this one hated itself for it.

“You’ll get your check by the end of the week,” this one croaked through clenched teeth. With any luck, Kunai would merely chalk up this one’s discomfort due to its wounds. Killing Kunai wouldn’t fix what had been done, and doing so would offend the Doo Clan. This one might need to hire the Doo Clans services again someday, not to mention the problems it would cause with Kukri. Likely she would never forgive this one for killing her sister, and that in turn would cause trouble with the Shimmer-mare. Damaging that relationship would cause yet more trouble this one could ill afford down the road.

And at the end of the day, you didn’t punish someone for saving your life and killing one of your enemies. You rewarded such behavior to encourage it in the future.

Platinum glared at Kunai’s back before shaking her head and returning her attention to this one. “Just relax Puzzle, we’ll take it from here.” She squeezed this one’s hoof as the medic went to work. “It’s all over now.”

“Yeah, it is.” This one leaned its head back, but its eyes kept flicking to the Alya-mare’s corpse. “Can you ... store her body somewhere? Until this one can see to it? She doesn’t have any family in Freeport, and ... no friends either, anymore.”

A flicker of emotions flashed over Platinum’s features as her beak twitched. “We’ll let you handle her body. But that’s for later. Right now I want you to rest and hang in there until we get you to a doctor.”

“Right. This one is ... just so tired right now.” This one closed its eyes as the rain continued pouring down over us, washing all the blood off the streets. This one hurt so much that all it wanted was for the whole world to wash away.

This one’s tears were drowned in the rain.

Epilogue: Picking Up the Pieces

Getting out of the hospital should have been a relief, but that died when this one met a Council agent at the door. Unsurprisingly, he told this one that the Council wished to see it. At least they waited long enough for this one to be able to walk again before calling upon it, though not that this one was going to be going quickly anytime soon. Thanks to some quite expensive magic, this one was as ready to go as it could be after only a couple of days after being stabbed by Blackwing, but it was still going to be a couple months or more before this one was back to one hundred percent. In fact, the doctors had recommended this one take some time off and relax so as to aid in its recovery. Pity then that the Council had other ideas.

The black-clad guards escorted this one into the interior of the Council’s Palace. For once this one didn’t have to wait long to be escorted into the Council Chamber itself.

This one walked inside, glad it had taken some painkillers back at the hospital before coming here. This one didn’t need to be limping around on top of everything else. “This one believes you wished to see it?”

The Minister was the first to speak. “Puzzle Piece. So good of you to finally join us.” There was a hint of reproach in his tone.

“We were glad to hear you're recovering from your wounds,” one of the other Councilors said more invitingly.

“Slowly but surely, thank you for your concern.” This one pulled out a cushion from its magical storage bag and placed it down, and quite contrary to Council decorum, took a seat. It might have been this one’s imagination, but it swore the temperature in the room dropped by a couple of degrees.

“So nice to see you respect the dignity of the Council's proceedings,” hissed one of the Councilors, probably the Skeptic.

This one flashed the Council a quick grin that there was little genuine happiness behind. “This one just got out of the hospital after surgery, and its doctors recommended that it rest until it's fully recovered. Standing here, possibly for a few hours straight, isn’t very healthy for it right at the moment. This one can provide a doctor's note if you require proof.”

“You’re supposed to stand in front of the Council,” the Skeptic sneered. “You’re just making excuses anyways.”

One of the other councilors snorted. “Let him sit if he’s still hurting.”

“Let him sit,” another councilor echoed. “I've never required a wounded soldier to stand and salute me in the past, don’t see why I should start now.”

There was a buzz of indistinct conversation between the Council members. At the end of the discussion, the Minister cleared his throat. “In light of your recent wounds, we can make certain allowances.”

This one felt a bit of smug satisfaction over tweaking the Council’s noses, but it was wise not to make too big an issue of it. A point had been made, time to move on. “Thank you for your consideration. Now then, this one can guess why you wanted to see it, but this one won't presume.”

“We've heard a great deal about what happened with your organization from everyone else around you over the last few days,” the Minister said. “Or at least, all your known associates who are both present in Freeport and still alive.”

This one kept a neutral mask in place at the mention of its dead lieutenants. They and the destruction of the organization was still a sore point for this one. “This one can give you a full report of what happened if you desire. Though this one should warn you, it's a long story.”

“We didn't expect it to be a short one,” a Councilor said.

“Assuming we can trust him on anything he has to say,” the Skeptic said. “He should be in Mask custody right now.”

There was a note of anger in those words, no doubt because the Free Companion guards watching over this one while it recovered had blocked the Masks from arresting it. Things had gotten tense, but the Masks hadn’t been willing to push it to a fight in a hospital. Any kind of medical institution was considered to be neutral ground in Freeport, and anyone that broke the peace would never be served by any medical professional in Freeport ever again. So unless someone liked the idea of bleeding out on a hospital doorstep or never receiving a drop of potentially life-saving medicine, they didn’t cause trouble where a medical professional could see it. Even Cold wasn’t willing to cross that line—or at least he couldn’t press his agents to do it for him.

“This one hardly thinks it should be arrested for following the Council’s instructions,” this one said. “As several witnesses will state, this one wasn’t responsible for Gustav-gryph’s murder. And as the Council might be aware, those early rumors that this one had assaulted the Goldtalon-gryph were patently false, as he will attest to.”

While the Goldtalon-gryph had initially said this one had gotten into a giant brawl with him and his guards to escape from his club, after the dust had settled with this one’s organization, he had withdrawn his accusations. Now he claimed that between hitting his head and the trauma of having a murder committed on his property, he had suffered a case of temporary insanity from which he had since recovered. This one doubted anyone believed his story, but he was more than rich and influential enough to get away with it all.

The Skeptic snorted. “Likely you either bribed or blackmailed him to change his tune.”

This one couldn’t help but grin. “Do you have any proof of this?”

“Not yet,” the Skeptic growled behind his mask.

“Well, this one imagines the Council would be able to see through any obvious lies, given there are several witnesses to everything that happened.”

One of the other councilors spoke up. “If nothing else, we should get all his lies on the record so we can throw him in jail for perjury along with everything else.”

Now this one started to lose its patience. “Throw this one in jail? This one did exactly as you asked: it ended the street war, decisively. This street war had been going for months, and this one ended it in but a few days.”

“While making a bloody mess of the affair,” the Skeptic growled.

“It was already a bloody mess when this one came back to Freeport,” this one pointed out. “If a bit more blood was spilled to end the matter, then why should the Council care? Nearly all the casualties were only within this one’s organization, so it hardly seems like something for any of you to get particularly upset about.”

“And maybe none of this would have happened if you had done a better job of running your organization to start with,” the Skeptic said. “After all, it became such a mess by the end you were forced to destroy it. As its leader, aren’t you responsible for everything that happened?”

This one scowled. It was rich on his part to blame this one for everything that happened after his role in the whole bloody affair. “This one has doubts about that, but then, let this one start from the beginning...”

This one went into the full story for everything that happened—or at least most of what happened. This one left out any details about the Vault and a few other individuals. It had laid a careful breadcrumb trail for that, but it had a particular time and place for them.

Once this one finished, one of the less hostile members of the Council spoke. “That was a comprehensive report, but it sounds as if you think someone else was supporting Blackwing.”

This one frowned. This matter had to be addressed very carefully. This one couldn’t just come out and accuse Cold; it needed the Council to demand it so that it didn’t make this seem like this one was just trying to get back at him. “Admittedly, this one has suspicions, and Blackwing talked about who his accomplice was. Though these are the words from a traitor trying to get into this one's head. And legally speaking, this would all be hearsay. This one can't verify what he said to the Council, considering he is quite dead.”

The Councilor this one now suspected was the Historian flicked her hoof for this one to continue. “Naturally, but we would still be interested to hear it.”

This one pressed its lips together as it built up the impression of reluctance. “This one should mention that this name is ... of a sensitive nature. And merely who it is will cast doubts on how true it is.”

The Skeptic shook his head. “Don't listen to him, he's trying to manipulate the Council.”

“Of course he is, but I'd like to hear the name anyway,” one of the other Councilors said. “We can judge for ourselves whether the accusations are baseless or not.”

“This one gives one last warning: once this one says this name, it can't be unsaid.” This one waited a moment to let its words carry more weight. “There will be consequences.”

One of the hostile Councilors tilted their head back as though rolling their eyes. “Oh spare us the dramatics and get on with it.”

This one stared right at the Skeptic. “The one responsible for this one's lieutenants fighting one another and the outbreak of the street war was Cold Comfort.”

The Skeptic bolted up and slammed his hooves on the table. “Liar! Arrest him for defamation! We won’t stand for this behavior right in front of the Council!”

The Council’s guards started to approach this one, but then the Minister held up a hoof. “Not. Yet.”

The Historian crossed her legs over her chest. “You sound convinced of this, Puzzle. Why is that?”

“To be honest, this one believed Blackwing.” This one stepped closer to the Council’s dais, keeping its eyes on the Skeptic. “He had no reason to lie considering he thought he was going to kill this one. What's more, who else in Freeport would have the resources to poison Pyrolash and Blackwing's agents on such short notice other than the Masks? Who else could have blocked this one's mail from arriving in Northmarch, or interfered with this one's investigation into the Penny-mare's disappearance? And not many people would have the influence to freeze the Alya-mare's accounts for half a year. What's more, Cold has a motive: the Council is more than aware of our little rivalry, and he had the most to gain with this one’s death and the destruction of its organization.”

The Skeptic let out a short bark of a laugh. “Circumstantial evidence and hearsay, all of it. You don't have a single bit of hard evidence.”

“Maybe not yet, but what if this one or the Council started looking into who froze the Alya-mare's bank accounts and why?” This one flashed him an ugly grin. “Or would the bureaucrats responsible suddenly disappear or suffer an unfortunate accident before we could ask them questions?”

“I'm sure those looking into your lieutenant's bank accounts had very good reasons for doing so,” the Skeptic said without flinching. “The fact you and your organization have failed to pay all their taxes and are involved themselves in smuggling is well known.”

“So then why suddenly freeze the Alya-mare's accounts at such an inconvenient moment for her?” this one asked. “And why weren't this one's bank accounts scooped up in the same investigation? We were well-known accomplices, after all.”

“I’m sure the people responsible had very good reasons for how they conducted their audits,” the Skeptic said.

This one grinned, knowing it had found the chink in the Skeptic’s armor. “Perhaps we should call them to the Council, here and now? This one is sure whatever they have to say will be illuminating.”

The Skeptic grew very still. “You don't tell the Council how to conduct its business.”

This one shook its head. “No, but if this one was a councilor it would be very suspicious of their primary spymaster and what he's been up to lately.”

A buzz of conversation started up between the Council, one that lasted a few minutes. When they were done, the Minister addressed this one. “Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. We will consider all that you said very carefully.”

“Thank you.” This one bowed slowly, being careful of its injuries. “This one is sure the Council will do the right thing.”

“That got interesting.” This one grunted as it sat down on one of the cushy cushions in Platinum’s office. This one had one thing to say, she had a fine taste for furniture. “This one doesn't suppose you have something like ginger ale to drink? Little surprise, the doctors told this one not to drink anything alcoholic while recovering from a gut wound.”

“Smart of them.” Platinum stepped to a cabinet and pulled out a couple glasses and a bottle. “Thankfully for you, I keep some drinks for minors and teetotalers that find their way into my office.”

She poured for each of us, and this one took the offered glass. “Thank you. This one has to admit, a meeting with the Council wasn’t exactly the first thing this one wanted to have to deal with right after getting out of the hospital.”

In truth, this one had a great deal of work to do. There was only so much it could do laid up in a hospital bed and it hated idleness anyway, so an interruption right out the gate wasn’t welcome. This one’s mood wasn’t improved by the fact that it still hadn’t recovered its full energy from before its injury.

Platinum sat down opposite of this one. “The Council wasn't happy about waiting as long as they did.”

This one sighed and pressed the cold glass to its forehead. “Yes, no doubt they were getting pressured by everyone angry over the Gustav-gryph's murder. Everyone wants everything to be done now-now-now and the world waits for no one, even if they're laid up in the hospital after emergency surgery.”

Platinum shrugged. “It sounds like everything is resolved now.”

This one sipped its drink. “Is that so? Did the Council already come to a decision about what happened?”

“That's something you would have to ask them, of course.” Platinum smirked at this one. “But I've heard a few rumors.”

This one grinned back, having a very good idea who her inside source was. “Rumors usually have some basis in fact. What are they?

Platinum took a drink of her own ginger ale before telling this one. “I don't think you need to worry too much about our immediate future. They're not going to arrest you for defamation.”

“Well that's a relief. This one would hate to be arrested for telling the truth.”

“Fortunately, Freeport's law recognizes truth as a valid defense against charges of defamation.”

This one swirled its drink. “True enough, though sometimes the law falls short, especially when it comes to the rich and powerful. Cold is a very powerful changeling.”

“So he is.” Platinum’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “That’s why he’s not going to be directly punished for what he did. Part of the problem is that all the evidence is circumstantial or hearsay, and he’s done a good job of covering everything else up. Plus he’s got too much influence with the Council, and his friends weren’t going to let him go down for starting the street war. Particularly when he probably has dirt on all of them.”

“It makes it unappealing to push someone off a cliff when you know they’re going to pull you down with them.” This one let out a sigh as it shook its head. “So that’s it then? He got off scot-free?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Platinum reached over to pat this one on the knee. “While we can’t prove he did what he did, everyone damn well knows he did it. So he’s been told to back off and leave you alone.”

This one’s ears perked. “So the Council is shortening his chain?”

“Quite a bit.” The corner of her mouth smiled. “He was told in no uncertain terms that if he was so much as suspected of starting anything with you again he was going to face severe consequences. His friends might not want to see him fall, but neither do they want to see you eliminated. You’re too important of a counterbalance. So he’s been given a big warning, and I daresay, it’s going to take a long time for his influence to recover.”

“It's the least he deserves.” This one scowled as it thought of the events of the last couple of weeks. “He did a lot of damage to this one and its organization. People are dead. This one's people.”

“Don't worry, he's made quite a few enemies.” Platinum raised her glass. “I certainly won't forget.”

“As you said, this one also has a friend on the Council.” This one clinked glasses with her and we both drank. “That's good because this one has a lot of work ahead of it.”

“Yes, you do.” Platinum sighed. “Your organization is in ruins. Where do you go from here?”

“Where there are failures, there are opportunities,” this one said. “This one might have destroyed its own organization, but this one made sure to leave its legitimate businesses unharmed. Considering none of this one’s lieutenants wanted to risk ticking off outside factions by being that overt in disrupting business in the city and bring the Council down on their heads, they didn’t go after any of those assets. That and this one still has its contacts, even if it lost most of its direct agents. From those resources, this one can rebuild. Only this time this one will do it better. No more being some crime boss skulking in the shadows.”

Platinum sat up straighter. “Oh really? What will you be doing, then?”

“That is the central question, isn't it?” This one sat back in its seat as it collected its thoughts. “This one enjoys being a problem solver and information broker, so this one is going to concentrate on that. Legally, this one is going to found a mercenary company—just one with a highly specialized set of skills.”

“Oh?” Platinum grinned. “Do I need to start worrying about you as competition?”

This one shook its head. “This one would prefer to have a friendly business relationship. After all, this one has sold the Free Companions intel on several occasions and our relationship thus far has been mutually beneficial.”

Platinum nodded. “That’s true. Tell me more about what you'll be doing.”

“Quite simply, this one wants to make the premier information gathering organization in Freeport.” This one flashed her a fang-filled grin. “Better than even the Masks. We can gather intelligence, keep an eye on things, do odd jobs for people with unusual problems that can’t be done by anyone else, and look for threats to Freeport and other interested parties.”

Platinum rubbed her chin. “That sounds very interesting, and not an issue for the Companions.”

“This one wouldn’t think so. You're a more traditional mercenary company—or untraditionally traditional, depending on how you look at it,” this one said. “We’ll have a very different focus, not to mention a different purpose.”

“And it sounds like it’ll be playing to your strengths.”

“Get paid for what you’re good at.” Not to mention this one believed this would better fit this one’s goals. Not the least of them being to kill Cold and make the Masks irrelevant someday. But that would have to come with time. Right now this one needed to rebuild, plan, and create opportunities.

This one might have lost the old organization, but the new one would be bigger and stronger. Cold was about to find out he had made some terrible mistakes.

This one sipped on its drink before continuing. “This one will need to build up its traditions, infrastructure... and name it. As pointed out to this one, merely calling it this one's organization doesn't give it much of an identity.”

“Hmm, true.” Platinum ran a talon across her cheek. “So what would you call it? It needs to be something elemental and evocative. This is a brand you’re building.”

“Agreed, something that will create an image in people's minds, and tell them what we're about.” This one stared into its drink as it thought. “How does ‘Puzzle Solutions’ sound?”

Platinum smiled. “I like it. Perhaps a bit egotistical on your part, but it has a nice ring to it.”

“Considering this one is building this from almost nothing, it thinks it has some leeway in naming the new organization after itself.” This one let out a sigh as it settled in to relax for a bit. The work of tomorrow could wait until tomorrow. “It'll be good to move forward.”

“That's the big thing. Making progress.”

“Right, it's just a matter of picking up the pieces.”

Platinum grunted. “Like figuring out what to do with your few surviving employees.”

This one rubbed its brow as it remembered that particular problem. “Yes, there is that.”

The next day this one was escorting the Penny-mare down Freeport’s streets as a continual drizzle rained down on us. A couple of Free Companion guards walked behind us, a necessary precaution when this one hadn’t fully recovered from its injuries. Given how sore this one still was from its recent battles and surgery, it did not relish the idea of getting into another fight. Just because Cold had been told to back off of this one didn’t mean he wouldn’t try something before this one fully recovered. He did like to use proxies to do his dirty work, after all, and he was good at covering his tracks. It was unlikely he would try something so early after Blackwing had failed to kill this one, but it wasn’t impossible, and this one had other enemies who might take advantage of its current weakness.

Though before this one could recover from the destruction of its organization, there were several things this one needed to address, among them the Penny-mare. Knowing that she was the sole survivor of this one’s inner circle was a sobering thought. Not that she had come out of the whole experience without scars of her own. She walked alongside this one, her gaze fixed upon the ground as she listlessly dragged her suitcase behind her. Little surprise, the murder of her lover had been a crushing experience for her. If only this one had known about their relationship sooner... Well, the past was the past, all that could be done was to move forward, even if this one didn’t particularly look forward to what it needed to do here.

This one caught sight of the dock down the street and the ship that awaited the Penny-mare. This one tried to put up a brave face, but it found its ears wilting as it addressed its former secretary. “It should only take a few weeks to get to Manehattan, and this one made sure to get you on a nice ship back to Equestria. You should be able to relax for a bit before you need to start over.”

The Penny-mare’s shoulders slumped and her voice came out like someone half-dead. “Thanks.”

This one frowned as it tried to think of a good way to spin the facts. “Think of it this way: you can get a fresh start. Between the Gustav-gryph's and your severance packages, you'll be fine. You’re smart and talented. This one is sure you’ll be back on your hooves in no time.”

Her gaze didn’t lift from the cobblestone as she replied. “It's not about money, Puzzle. No amount of money will bring Gustav back.”

This one shook its head. “That much you're right about. At least his murderer is dead. This one made sure of that.”

The Penny-mare frowned. “Blackwing is, yes.”

This one sensed something behind those words, so it decided to probe. “Something on your mind?”

The Penny-mare slowed in her steps, and some of her melancholy dropped away. “Blackwing doesn't seem like the sort to do this on his own.”

This one knew her to be a smart mare, and so it was curious to see how much she had guessed. Given her frame of mind, she might decide to do something unwise, and this one wanted to prevent that from happening. “Why do you say that?”

The Penny-mare pressed her lips together as she drew her thoughts together. “Just ... I knew him pretty well, and this isn't something he'd normally do. He was always the type to run off and do his own thing, not concern himself with stuff like running the organization. Why would he want to take over when it was a struggle just to get him to turn in his paperwork, much less any of the hard work that came with his job?”

This one rubbed the back of its neck. “That much is true. Big planning wasn't his type of thing. He always seemed to prefer agent work on the streets to giving orders.”

The Penny-mare’s brow furrowed. “Someone must have pushed him into it.”

This one hesitated before saying, “That seems likely.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to this one, a fire in her eyes as she stared right at this one. “Who?”

This one gently pulled the Penny-mare to the side of the street and spoke quietly. “Penny-mare, if this one tells you something like that, it can't un-tell you. In case the scale of what happened didn't make it obvious, whoever was behind Blackwing wasn't a small fish and they don’t play nice.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t back down. “I don't want whoever it was to get away with this.”

“They won't.”

The Penny-mare stepped close enough that our muzzles nearly touched. “Is whoever it was still alive?”

This one could lie to her. That would be the simplest thing to do. This one could give her a lie to allow her to rest and move on with her life. But ... would that be the right thing to do? For years she had worked with this one, and while she had made her mistakes, this one was sure she was still loyal to it. How best to repay that loyalty? A lie and peace, or the truth and unease?

“Yes, they’re still alive.”

The Penny-mare scowled, and her voice became like unyielding steel. “Then it's not over.”

This one sighed and shook its head. “No, no it's not. It's a long way from being over.”

She drew in a deep breath and set her bags down. “Then I'm not leaving.”

This one raised an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”

The Penny-mare stepped closer to this one as she stared this one right in the eyes. “Whoever is responsible for Gustav's death needs to pay for it.”

This one placed a hoof on her shoulder. “And they will, this one promises. Whatever happens, they’re not going to get away with what they’ve done.”

“I know because I'll be here to help you make it happen.”

This one rubbed the bridge of its muzzle. “Penny-mare, this really isn't safe. You already ended up stuffed under a floorboard for months.”

“I'm not doing it to be safe,” she declared. “I'm doing it to avenge Gustav.”

This one shook its head. “Revenge never ends in good places.”

“It's about more than revenge, it's justice.” Her ears flicked. “And you've never been shy about getting payback on those who wronged you. Hay, you’re planning it right now. I know you well enough to know that you’re never going to let someone attack the organization and then get away with it.”

“Because injury invites injury,” this one said. “If people think they can wound you and get away with it, they'll do it again.”

“And whoever did this hurt you.”

“Yes, they did, a lot.” The unpleasant memories of the street war came to the forefront of its mind; the fights, the Gustav-gryph’s murder, the fight with Blackwing, the Alya-mare’s betrayal and death. “This one had to burn the whole organization down. Years of work wasted, and people this one cared about are dead.”

The Penny-mare gripped this one by the shoulders and looked it right in the eyes. “And you're going to make the ones responsible pay, aren't you?”

“Definitely.”

“Let me help.” Her grip on this one’s shoulders tightened. “Please, I can help. You know I’m a good secretary, and this bastard needs to be taken down for murdering Gustav.”

This one let out a long breath. It glanced down the harbor to where the Penny-mare's ship waited. “It's not going to be easy. In fact, there's a good chance this path is going to get us both killed.”

“I know.”

This one sighed. It couldn't believe it was letting itself be talked into this. There were a lot of arguments against letting the Penny-mare stay, among them being that the Gustav-gryph would probably have insisted on this one getting her onto that ship and into safety. Even if it had to shove her into a crate and ship her back to Equestria. But the Penny-mare had the right to make her own decisions, and the changeling that had ordered the murder of her lover was still out there, plotting away towards his own ends. If Freeport was to become a better place then he needed to die, and this one couldn’t do this job alone.

“If you stay then you're going to listen to what this one tells you to do,” this one said. “No going off and doing anything crazy without permission. That will just get us both killed, and then Gustav won't get justice.”

The Penny-mare nodded. “It's not like I have Gustav left to fall in love with again.”

This one ran a hoof along its headcrest. “You realize this means you won't be getting your severance package, right?”

“There are things more important than money.”

“So there are.” This one turned back to her and put on a smile. “So, do you want your old job back, or... not trying to sound too grim when facing reality, there are now opportunities for upward mobility. We are rebuilding the organization, and this one knows you do good work.”

The Penny-mare shook her head. “I think I'm good with my old job. Everyone needs a good administrative assistant.”

“So they do.” This one let out a long breath. “Alright then, you can stay.”

To this one’s surprise, the Penny-mare wrapped this one in a hug. “Thank you, Puzzle. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

This one felt hot trickles of water on its shoulder that had nothing to do with the drizzle, and it found itself wrapping its legs around the Penny-mare. “If this one had no idea then it wouldn’t be letting you stay.”

“Yeah.” The Penny-mare’s voice came out croak. “Guess that’s true. Still, thank you.”

This one might have just initiated a series of events that would get her killed, but for now, this felt like the right thing to do. That was one of the problems with making plans like this: you could never really know how they would turn out.

But then this one hadn’t gotten where it had by taking the safe path in life. If you wanted to make a difference in the world, then you need to take chances, even if there was no way to predict the future. All you could do was stack the odds as far into your favor as you could and then roll the dice.

After a couple of minutes, the two of us broke the hug, and the Penny-mare rubbed her eyes. This one smiled and patted her on the back. “Now then, how about we go see if we can get a refund for this ticket. We can use some of that saved money for a nice meal. This one thinks we could use it. Plus it wouldn’t hurt to figure out our first baby steps to rebuilding the organiz—no, Puzzle Solutions.”

The Penny-mare smiled back at this one. “That sounds good to me.”

This one returned to walking toward the harbor, though this time with a different purpose than what it started with.

“...and this is where this one's dad used to work when he was still a private investigator,” this one declared as it opened the door to the old PI office.

The Shimmer-mare and the Heartstrings-mare stepped into the office, their gazes sweeping in to take the sights. It was a couple of months after this one’s return to Freeport, and one month after they had returned as well. This one wanted to give them time to settle back in, but it didn’t want to wait any longer than that before bringing them here.

The Heartstrings-mare grinned as she looked around. “Ah, the old homestead.”

This one smiled as it took an old fedora off a rack and flipped it onto its head. “This one can't tell you how many hours it spent here playing as Dad worked. It brings back some memories.”

The Shimmer-mare ran a hoof along a shelf and frowned at the dirt. “I don’t want to insult your dad’s old office, but it looks like it could use a little fixing up.”

This one sighed and nodded. “True, or perhaps it's time to have it torn down and rebuild something new.”

The Heartstrings-mare wrapped a wing around this one. “Or just move in and spruce it up. You do need a new office after the last one had a bad affair with a fire.”

That was a curious idea it hadn’t seriously considered. This one had spent so long very intentionally not using this place for anything but the Vault so as to not draw attention to it. So it hadn’t ever considered using it for anything like its original purpose as an office.

“That much is true.” This one looked around and began considering the possibilities. “With some renovations this could work quite nicely.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the Shimmer-mare said.

“So it does. This one will discuss it with the Penny-mare later, and then we’ll start talking with some people about fixing this place up. Though first something else needs to be dealt with.” This one pulled aside the rug that hid the trap door leading to the basement.

The Heartstrings-mare’s eyes twinkled as she trotted over to the door. “Oooh, secrets! Now this is getting interesting.”

“You didn’t think this one brought you here just to look at a dusty old office, did you?” This one felt a pinch of pain as it started to climb the ladder, but it ignored it.

“I was wondering,” the Shimmer-mare said as she watched this one descend. “You were being just a little bit evasive about this.”

“You’ll understand why in a minute.” This one reached the basement and waved for them to come down. “Please don't mind the mess. This one hasn't had time to clean up due to being busy with everything else.”

“I don't think a little dirt is the end of the world.” The Heartstrings-mare came down and then whistled as she got a good look at the blasted destruction that had been done there. “Wow, I didn’t know renovating with explosives had become the new fashion. Call me old-fashioned, but I can’t say I’m a fan of burn marks, bloodstains, and broken furniture.”

The Shimmer-mare came down next, moving slower than the Heartstrings-mare due to her new artificial leg. She was doing just fine walking around, but she probably hadn’t gotten much experience with things like ladders yet. When she reached the bottom, she glowered at her surroundings. “Someone broke in?”

“Blackwing,” this one said. “He was poking around for this one's safehouses when he tripped upon this.”

“At least you kept your secrets safe,” the Heartstrings-mare said. “Dead ponies tell no tales and all that.”

“Right, and this one is the only living soul to know about this. Until now, anyways. This one hasn't shared this with anyone.” This one led the way into the Vault. “Come on in.”

The Shimmer-mare’s gaze swept over the Vault. “What do you have in here?”

This one grinned. “Quite simply, this is the greatest collection of changeling lore in all the world. It might not seem like much on the surface, but you won’t find a better collection of knowledge on the changeling species than what’s in here. Some of the books here are one-of-a-kind. Granted, no small part of that is because the Old Mind keeps destroying anything about changelings.”

The Heartstrings-mare nodded. “Yeah, funny how books about changelings keep disappearing from public libraries, and research institutions have a way of catching fire.”

“Knowledge is power,” the Shimmer-mare agreed. “It’s why Chrysalis wants to keep everyone in the dark about her: if no one really knows what she can do then no one will know how to counter her.”

“That’s why this one has worked so hard to keep all of this a secret,” this one said. “Someone needs to preserve whatever there is and keep it away from the Old Mind.”

The Heartstrings-mare tilted her head as she examined an old helmet. “So you're gunning for her?”

This one nodded. “That, and preserving the Free Mind species. Given half the chance, she would invade Freeport and wipe us out.”

The Shimmer-mare scowled at the portrait of the Old Mind. “Considering she tried to kill me once, I'm in.”

“It seems like a good cause.” The Heartstrings-mare grinned. “Seems as good as anything to do with my time.”

“The good news is that this one has been making plans. Collecting old books and some odds and ends hasn’t been all this one has been up to.” This one went to a shelf holding all the magic items it had collected for this task and pulled off a couple of sealed briefcases. It then placed them on a nearby table and started entering in the number sequences to open them.

The Heartstrings-mare’s eyes twinkled as she watched this one open the cases to reveal the items hidden inside. “Ooooh, secrets.”

“This one has been known to have them,” this one said as it lifted the lids. “Admittedly, it's ... well, it was a difficult decision for this one to reveal all of this to you two. As you’ve probably noticed, this one likes to keep its secrets.”

And revealing this secret to anyone, even ponies it trusted as much as these two, was a significant risk. They could go running to anyone to talk, or accidentally reveal what they knew. The Heartstrings-mare particularly could go to the EIS to tell them what this one was up to. She claimed she had quit the EIS, but this one suspected the actual situation was significantly more complex, especially with where her boss was concerned. But this one did trust them and trusted their goals aligned with its own on this.

The Shimmer-mare gave this one her full attention. “So what made you change your mind?”

This one sighed and ran a hoof along its headcrest. “Nearly dying for one. That impressed on this one that if something were to happen to it then this and all the rest of its secrets would die with it.”

The Heartstrings-mare rubbed her chin. “Hmm, that'd do it.”

The Shimmer-mare grunted. “I can relate to brushes with mortality.”

“Right, this one...” Its ears flattened. “Doesn't want everything it worked for to die with it, and admittedly, getting some help with its goals would be nice.”

The Heartstrings-mare nudged this one with an elbow. “So let me guess: your endgame is producing Chrysalis's corpse, and making it stick?”

This one nodded. “That would go a long way to protect the Free Minds, not to mention all the other sapient species of the world.”

The Shimmer-mare frowned as she started examining the contents of the briefcases. “Yeah. getting rid of Blackfyre is a good start, but ... well, there are other monsters as bad as him out there.”

The Heartstrings-mare wrapped a wing around this one. “Sounds like a solid game plan.”

It was a relief to hear them agree. That would go a long way toward pushing forward this particular scheme. There was also a very practical need this one had at the moment they could help with. “So, want to help this one move all of this to someplace more secure while we talk about future plans?”

The Heartstrings-mare grinned and snorted. “Should've known this was all just an elaborate setup for you asking us to help you move.”

“At least this one has more interesting stuff than an old couch,” this one said. “This one has a bolthole it can put everything in for the short-term. Though this one’s going to need to build a new Vault or make some other kind of arrangement. That’s part of what this one wanted to talk with you about, since this one is sure you could give a few devious and inventive solutions to help keep all of this hidden from prying eyes.”

“I can help with that.” The Shimmer-mare’s eyes flicked over the ceiling as she cast analysis spells. “Your wards here were pretty good, but I think I can do them one better.”

This one started closing the briefcases and their contents back up. “And your ability to teleport and use illusions to help transport everything will be a big help moving all of this without being seen.”

“Sounds good.” The Shimmer-mare gaze swept across the room. “Though first I’d like to find out what ‘everything in here’ is.”

“Of course.” This one waved them over to a black stone sitting on its pedestal. “This right here is a chunk of the Old Mind's throne. It was not easy to get, this one had to pay quite a few ducats to hire the best thief in the world to get this, and...”

Rebuilding after everything that had happened wasn’t going to be easy, but this one was good at standing back up after getting knocked down. That, and this one now had some good friends it could trust to help carry the load.

Prologue: The Best Laid Plans

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Unwelcome Homecoming

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What Lies Hidden

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Loose Ends

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Knives in the Night

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Succession and Legacies

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Old Acquaintances

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Fidelity

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Time Runs Out

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Burn It All Down

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No Going Back

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Tears in the Rain

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Epilogue: Picking Up the Pieces

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