The muddy road sucks at Doug’s bare feet and the wheels of the wagon, leaving his ankles a dirty brown. Hopefully the sun will have dried it out by the time he returns, and the pegasi clearing the last of the storm clouds in the air portents a pleasant afternoon. Despite how he left the town he continues with a bit of a spring in his step and a smile on his mouth. Laughter is one of their tenets, right?

Any chance of an inconspicuous delivery disappears when he passes the bell topped schoolhouse. The two dozen foals at recess spot him the moment he comes into view, excitedly chattering among themselves as they race to the fence a stone’s throw from the road. No stones are thrown, but when Doug raises a hand to wave nearly half of them release high pitched screams somewhere between fright and delight - he can’t tell even with human children - then scamper back to the playground. The older half chortle to each other, rolling eyes and trading hoof bumps before they too slink away.

The main area of Ponyville doesn’t fare much better. Doug counts it a blessing that only one pony screams as he approaches, her chosen method of defense falling into a dead faint. Two identical pegasi, armored in gold barding with matching helmets, give him a bit more pause. Both of them warily watch his every move as one goes to check on the fallen earth pony. Wings go to the spears strapped at their sides as if to double check they are still there, or maybe just as a touchstone, but that doesn’t stop his mind flooding with thoughts of police brutality and a suspicion of exactly at whom that aggression will be aimed.

When they don’t accost him then and there Doug merely shrugs to himself, continuing to the large warehouse store he passed earlier that day. The only thing that seems to be more distracting than himself is that pink pony from earlier greeting everypony she passes with a fond hello of some sort or another, many colors of paint messily spilling out of her saddlebags as she pronks around wildly. Despite the impossibility of multiple colors of paint being stored in the same container without them mixing into a depressing brown. Yeah, probably don’t want any of that getting on me. Paint or crazy. Though there is a lot of excitement about some sort of party.

He ducks under the entrance, a necessity in every building so far, though at least he doesn’t need to hunch over once he’s inside. The few ponies shopping remain still, only their eyes tracking him as he drags his cart along. The two guards make no effort to hide their intent as they follow him inside, stepping around the muddy tracks.

Doug passes rows of vegetables, fruits, and grains, none of which share an advertising theme aside from crude pictures of the contents. Then bulk baking ingredients like sugar and flour - though salt is suspiciously missing - and cooking implements. He pauses as he walks, just to get an idea of what kind of things the ponies eat, and which ones he recognizes. Too large a number are flowers he strongly suspects are poisonous or he can’t digest, but at least there are plenty of other things he knows will work. Along with nuts and, surprisingly, eggs and powdered milk.

He gets to the farming and gardening section. He finds the seed bags, making sure they’re the same brand. Well, the ones in his cart are faded with age, a tad waterlogged, dirt-stained, and torn. Like they’d been dumped into the snow, run over with a plow, then kicked into a ditch. Multiple years in a row. Which, given where he found them, is probably exactly what happened. Ten bits per 10-C bag, and a couple of the other varieties are quite a bit more expensive for the same weight. Given the prices he briefly saw at Rarity's Boutique, it probably won't be enough. Maybe he'll be able to bargain her down, or offer something else.

He walks up to the salespony at the counter, wryly noting the packages of salt in a locked compartment behind the stallion. The brown earth pony sports a black slicked back mane, and a red bow tie as his only choice of apparel. He takes a long look at Doug before his eyes flick to the cart. His muzzle, carefully neutral, chews for a moment before his steady gaze returns to Doug. He draws his words out, enunciating every syllable as if talking to a particularly slow foal. “Hello, there. My name is Filthy Rich. Welcome to Barnyard Bargains. Can I help you?”

“Doug. And I hope so.” He motions to the bags, grimacing at their awful condition. “Applejack, from Sweet Apple Acres?” He continues at Filthy Rich’s confirming nod, “She sent me to return these bags.” A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, his mouth pursing to a forced smile at the lack of reply. “When we found the lost bags, she had already planted the ones she bought earlier. So, we were hoping to return these.” He motions underneath, “We’ve got the new bags, too, if you want them.”

Filthy Rich stares at Doug for a few seconds, mulling over his response. “Well,” he purrs, “Applejack’s been a faithful customer for a long time, and you couldn’t ask for a better partner. I trust that she's doing well?”

Doug nods, slightly confused. “Sure. She is, aside from being overworked. Why she sent me.”

A thin smile crosses Filthy’s muzzle. “Sounds like Applejack. Let’s take a look, shall we?” He steps out from behind the counter, his smile getting a little more forced at seeing the mud tracked into the store. A hoof runs along one of the bags, tugging at one of the minor tears, though the bag remains intact. A quick peek confirms that wheat seeds are indeed inside.

“Didn’t know she’d hired anypony on,” Filthy Rich remarks as he returns to behind the counter. The cash register opens with a hearty ring, hooves pulling out short stacks of bits and sliding them over. All the coins are gold, the denomination clearly stamped on top, along with a raised visage of some smiling mare with a horn and wings.

“It’s just temporary,” Doug says, pulling out Applejack’s bitpurse. He frowns as he counts up the bits, getting eighty. He turns back towards the display as if he misremembered the price. The two guards are standing uncomfortably close, like the open cash register might be more than he could handle. He doesn’t have to move to see the price, exactly like he remembered, and a frown crosses his face.

“Something wrong?” asks Filthy Rich carefully.

Doug turns back to the counter, double counting the bits. Still eighty. His eyes narrow. “Just seems a little short on bits, that’s all.”

Filthy Rich matches his frown, though he masks his anger with a chuckle. “Are you saying I can’t add, or that I’m trying to cheat you?”

“I can multiply,” Doug says, fuming, “and-”

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” the closer guard interjects, interrupting Doug. One wing twitches, as if the guard has to force herself to keep from whipping her spear out and brandishing it in his face.

“Well,” Doug starts, only for the second guard to cut him off.

“Let’s hear what the stallion has to say, yes?” the gruff mare says firmly.

“What?!” Doug shouts, pointing at Filthy Rich accusingly. “He-”

The first pegasus flies up, not quite getting in Doug’s face, but intervening between him and Filthy Rich nonetheless. “Now,” she says evenly, her voice hard, “let’s not say anything we might regret, yes?” She flies a little closer, prompting Doug to back up a step. A short conversation springs up between the second guard and Filthy Rich, making sure he’s okay. The first guard continues, “So, when you’ve calmed down, tell me your side.”

Doug grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “I am calm,” he starts, then takes a deep breath. He motions to the bags of wheat seed for sale, then back to the bits sitting on the counter. “I want to return those bags, and twelve times that number doesn’t equal that number.”

The guard nods along as she lands, her face carefully neutral. “Yes, that does make sense. Are you familiar with Barnyard Bargain’s return policy?”

Doug’s face stays set in a neutral scowl. “Not specifically,” he says crossly.

“Hmm,” she says, tapping a hoof on the ground. “Normally, he would, but these aren’t the bags you, or Applejack in this case, bought. Yes?”

“Yes,” Doug says carefully, crossing his arms across his chest. “I said so earlier.”

“Yes, you did,” the guard confirms, “and I would say it is very generous of him to accept a return in such a condition, yes?”

“Sure,” Doug says after a short delay.

“Then let’s see if we can’t clear up this little misunderstanding, yes?” The guard smiles, then steps to the side. Doug walks forward, where Filthy Rich and the second guard are waiting. “Alright, Ma’am, whenever you’re ready.”

Filthy Rich smiles at Doug. “These,” he purrs, motioning to the bits still on the counter, “are the bits Applejack paid me earlier today for an equivalent number of wheat seeds inside those bags. Surely that’s an equitable deal?”

Doug stares at the bits. They are unchanged from before. He looks up at Filthy Rich and the earth pony’s suave smile. “That’s your story, huh?”

Filthy Rich’s expression falters for a moment. “Yes?”

“Then forget it.” Doug turns to his cart as Filthy Rich and the guards exchange confused looks.

“You don’t believe me?” Filthy Rich asks loudly.

“Oh, I believe you,” Doug says as he picks up the handles. He bites his tongue, acutely aware of how any insult might be taken. “Just such a good deal, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.” He tips his head, walking out of the store. Damn it. I was counting on using those bits with Rarity, or for whatever else I needed, but I'm not going to let her get cheated like that. What am I going to do?

“Suit yourself,” Filthy Rich says with a shake of his head.

The two guards hurry after the human, quickly catching up. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” the first guard calls, Doug barely turning his head to acknowledge her. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What’s stopping you?” Doug says curtly.

The two guards easily keep pace as he trundles along the streets. “Sir,” the second one commands, “Pull over and answer our questions.”

Doug grumbles to himself as he keeps walking.

“Sir, are you refusing a direct, lawful order from a uniformed member of the Royal Guard?”

Her stilted tone gets Doug to close his eyes, his forehead scrunching up in anger. “What?” he spits out as he stops.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the second guard says without a hint of actual appreciation, disappointment staining her words. That wing gravitates towards her spear again before returning to her side. “Word was you have a problem obeying authority figures.”

Doug opens his eyes to glare at the two pegasi. “She never told me to stop, and I wouldn’t have even if she did. And you two look just as corrupt and happy to abuse your power as her.”

The second guard soaks his anger, looking like she’s enjoying it. She casually glances to her partner. “Want to add verbal assault of a Royal Guard to the list?”

“I don’t know if the town wants him to do another day of community service,” the first guard dryly remarks.

Doug fumes for a second before taking a deep breath. “What do you want?” he forces out, his voice strained.

“Like we said, just ask you a few questions.” The first guard pulls out a pad of lined paper, flipping past a few sheets already full. “Now, is Doug your whole name, or are there only about ten thousand of you, or are things just really confusing trying to tell you all apart?” She glances at his flanks. “Seeing as you don’t have any marks to separate you.”

“Doug Graves,” he grits out, and if was supposed to be menacing the guards merely chuckle as one writes it down. “Do you two have names, either?”

“Hard Point and Bitter Pill,” the first guard says, motioning to herself and her partner. “Now, we received an anonymous tip.” Her brow furrows as she reads off her paper. “About your intentions to open up a portal to another realm.”

“Anonymous tip, huh,” Doug says, dripping with sarcasm.

The mare nods. “Now, you’re aware that opening a portal to a hypothetical other realm is a two way affair, yes?”

Doug merely stares at her, crossing his arms across his chest.

Hard Point returns a look no less stony. “And, while Equestria has a policy of non-interference regarding the actions of sovereign nations, I’m sure we can make an exception to free the enslaved ponies and whorses that populate this other, hypothetical, realm.”

Doug can’t tell by her voice whether or not she believes that is his intent, or if it’s an actual possibility, or if she’s just trying to needle him more. His teeth remain clenched, determined not to give in to her goading.

The guard rolls up the paper, tucking it back somewhere in her armor. “We sincerely recommend against doing anything of that nature.”

“Anything else you want to ask about?” Doug spits out. “Like, I don’t know, the unprovoked assault earlier today?”

“Assault?” Hard Point says guardedly, pulling the paper back out. A wing withdraws a quill, readying itself almost giddily. “Who did you assault?”

“I didn’t assault anybody,” Doug states, his hands clenching into fists. The guards frown, the quill no longer twitching. “One of the pegasi, Rainbow Dash, threatened to blast me with a lightning bolt.”

“Did she,” the guard states neutrally, flipping through her notebook. She reads a few lines before saying, “She claimed it was a warning shot, and the others standard shock-and-awe procedure.”

“Of course it is,” Doug says with a heavy sigh. “So, nothing’s going to happen.”

“As it is an ongoing investigation, we can’t release any details.” Hard Point flips the notebook closed.

“Of course you can’t,” Doug says. He takes a deep breath, focusing on calming himself down.

“As a word of caution, please don’t get involved in any more incidents. It’s a waste of our time, and we don’t like having to fly from Canterlot for some moon-struck monster.” Both guards take to the air, glaring down at him.

“See you next time,” Doug spits out, though he almost immediately regrets it as the second guard spins around and draws her spear. Her threat to charge him is stymied only by the first guard getting in her way. It’s all he can do to not drop the cart and flee through town again, though he doubts it would make a difference if he did. Instead he picks the cart up, trudging towards the center of town.

“He isn’t worth it,” Hard Point says quickly, the second guard snorting dismissively. “Just think about all the paperwork you’ll need to go through.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be your flank when he does something. You sure we can’t lock him up for the day? Teach him not to come around here anymore?” Bitter Pill glares as they watch Doug pull his cart along. “He going where I think he’s going?”

“Of course. They always return to it.” Hard Point shakes her head, sighing at the likelihood they’ll need to intervene again. “The scene of the crime: Carousel Boutique.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 12 - Goldrim Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 5 Minutes