~Caro~

I awake to the unfamiliar tingle of a fur blanket. A different fur blanket, I mean. The one I always slept under in Neigh Hrothgar had shorter furs and a rougher texture. Either way, this lack of familiarity makes me want to bugger out as quickly as I can. It’s far too warm as is. After a long two months in a land permanently cloaked in several feet of snow, everything feels like a flame is touching my skin.

My lips curl into a smile as I pull the covers back over my chest. It’s good to be back. It’s not home, but at least this land is familiar.

Something else is touching my skin. My ear, specifically. It's smooth, somewhat moist...

"Tohro. Stop that."

I roll over and open my eyes. I see the other familiarity in my life remove his lips from my ear. He’s blushing enough to make a ripe tomato jealous. It contrasts with his gold Imperial gauntlets and cuirass, and that purple overcoat doesn’t match his white fur in the slightest.

"I can’t help it," he says. “You just look so peaceful.”

I remove the blanket and stretch out my forelegs, followed by my hindquarters. It feels like forever since I’ve had a genuine, equine speaking pony greet me in my waking hours. For the past two months, it has only been the deep growl of Master rousing me from a long rest. Master’s growl was not the most pleasant wake up call. This is far more welcome.

“Shall I make breakfast?” Tohro asks.

I sit up. As I lean forward, my mane falls across my face. I must have been thrashing in my sleep. “That depends on what you Imperial types serve...” If the rumors are true on what Imperials eat, I’d rather not let my taste buds touch it. Cram. That slag hardly qualifies as food. It’s not that it tastes bad; it merely doesn’t make me want to vomit. Completely unremarkable.

“You’re in for a treat. I assure you, it’s far better than the slop of the Blackwings."

While I leave the comfort of my bed, Tohro canters across the tent to a water filled cauldron, boiling over a small fire. "Huh. What is that, your laundry?" I ask, weakly gesturing towards it.

Tohro shakes his head. "I don’t think boiled yams would make for attractive clothing."

“Ooh, please!” I lick my lips and hop over to the cauldron, but Tohro ushers me away.

“Give them a moment, mate.” He says that like a mother coaxing a child. “They’re nearly done.”

Damn Tohro and his always looking out for my well-being, then turning his back on me for the sake of inconvenience. What would I ever do without him? I turn around and go to the banister in the opposite corner of the tent. On top, there’s numerous odds and ends such as lockpicks, bowls and linen wraps. No help there. I assume those belong to him anyway.

"I always figured you a yam..."

I turn my head, wearing a snarky smirk. "What was that?"

“Oh, nothing.”

There's a small, circular mirror beside his bed, something I am exceedingly grateful to see.. The Greybeards may have millenia old artifacts, yet they can’t spare something as trivial as reflective glass. How did the Precursors ever groom? Unable to help myself, I take a good look at how the months have been to me.

“Bloody hell, how did that happen?!” My mane, if one could even call it such a thing, falls across nearly half my back and down to my shoulders. In fact, with a tilt of my head, it falls across one of my eyes.

Tohro comes into the mirror, clutching a boiled yam under each wing. "I rather like it."

I run a hoof through this mop. I may as well be venturing a forest. "That may be so, but I can't very well run into battle with this. It's a liability. Hm..." An enticing thought enters my mind. "You wouldn't mind cutting it, would you?"

Tohro snickers in response, like he always does when he’s thinking of some jape. I’m not looking forward to this. "What was that? Braid it? Sure! It’ll go with your perfume!"

My stomach churns as I bring my hoof to my cheek. “Is it that noticab—” I see his smirk widen. “Er, I have no idea...”

"Don’t play coy with me, Dragonborn. It was the first thing I smelled when you landed!” He leans so close to my cheek that I have to pull away. He presses himself in further and sniffs. “Bloody hell, is that what I think it is? Peaches? Yeah, that has to be...”

“It’s not Shae’s!” Dammit, I am a horrid liar.

“Oh, sure. Then it must belong to Rosemary,” Tohro says, rolling his eyes.

I sigh. “...Okay, it’s Shae’s.”

Tohro coughs, snickering between a toothy grin, then bursts out laughing. He tries walking away, only to collapse in a mad cackle. I fear for a moment that he’ll never stop.

So, Tohro has joined the Imperial Legion. That is definitely a thing. Truthfully, I never believed him to have the mettle for such a commitment, particularly after his expulsion from the Blackwings. And, surprisingly, I’m not angry. I would have expected myself to be even mildly enraged at him for thinking this a good idea, but I’m not, because, in a way, it is a good idea. The support of the Imperial Legion’s weapons will gain Dragonrein a hoofhold in the battle against the dragons, and this will only put Shokenda in her place all the faster.

Tohro confessed to me that he was in a state of confusion the whole time he’s served the Legion. But seeing me again seems to have resolved that. He’s already promised that he’ll dedicate himself to Dragonrein over the Legion any day. I just dread how he’ll break the news to Gauntlet.

I hear an armored stomp just outside the tent.“Tohro Blackwing, Captain Gauntlet requests entry!”

Speak of Shokenda.

Tohro immediately stops the immature laughter, putting on a straight face of obedience and standing up. He dusts off his armor, clears his throat and opens the tent flap. Two elite soldiers, covered from head to hoof in scaled armor, tower above Tohro. They stomp their opposite hooves again in unison, then turn, standing aside for Gauntlet to enter. He’s fully armed, aside from a lack of a helmet. I’ve never seen his red mane before now. One would think it would make him a prime target on the battlefield.

“I negotiated that Caro Dragonborn would be able to stay upon Imperial property until sunrise, and it is...” Gauntlet peeks outside, squinting his eyes as he looks to the sun. “...Well past that, obviously. I would have earlier informed you that his departure is past due, but I’ve been so occupied by incoming letters from the other camps. Evidently, the return of the Dragonborn has been made known halfway across Equestria at this point.”

I am gloating inside my head. “Wonderful,” I say.

“Yes, and while Tohro’s tale of your two-for-one dragon slaying was, ah, impressive, to say the least—” Gauntlet looks as if he wants to say another word to describe the beautiful and bloody experience, but has to keep his professional demeanor. “—we cannot extend our welcome any further.” He points out into no direction in particular, giving me a foul glare. “Need I have my elites escort you out or do you know the way?”

My expression is all but deadpan. I take a large, slow chomp of the yam, chew it with great emphasis, then swallow. “No, because I’m a dunce.”

Tohro snickers, then regains composure upon seeing the elites just about to draw their longswords.. "I'll show him out, sir." He winks at me.

Gauntlet relaxes, stepping aside and sighing. He looks exhausted, now that I look closer. “Good boy. And tell him to watch his tongue next time.”

“I apologize on his behalf.” Tohro drapes a wing across my back and not so gently forces me forward. He throws his voice to me. “Truthful, I think they just can’t stand the smell of the perfume.”

I avert my eyes from the sun. It feels as if it’s been an eternity since I’ve caught a single glimpse of sunlight. The closest I’ve had since I arrived in Neigh Hrothgar was a portrait of a blue dragon overlooking a cliffside. It was gorgeous, but not quite as gorgeous as this. After the downpour from last night, the grasslands are caught in a glistening layer of water that shines in the sunlight. As for the rest of the sky, there’s nothing but blue as far as the eye can see.

Tohro takes notice of my sightseeing. “Beautiful, isn’t it, mate?”

I look to him with my fangs on display. “Yeah...”

It almost makes up for standing in an Imperial camp. There are many more tents set up along the hillside, all the way up to the base of the cliff. I can see banners of purple and gold waving above the spiked log barricades. While the mien of this encampment strikes me as orderly and safe, it lacks the same aspect of fun I recall from Ivarstable. But I’m not about to desire anything relevant to the other side of this civil war.

I hear commands being given out, orders for pushups and situps, a drill sergeant yelling for a squad of pegasi to flap their wings until their bones snap and keep flying... I hear one order over all the rest.

“Be careful with that, rookie. It’s not exactly a rusty knife; you’ll have a lot more than tetanus to worry about if you drop it.”

“Understood, sir.”

Beside the central firepit trots a commanding officer, I’m not entirely sure what rank he is, leading a lesser soldier, who carries a long cloth in his mouth. It’s what’s wrapped in the cloth that warrants my attention, particularly when the rookie trips over a stray stone, falling on his side and dropping the cloth. Its contents roll out onto the leaf speckled dirt.

I see a black katana that doesn’t belong to them.

The officer curses and begrudgingly assists the rookie. “I cannot stress it enough! Keep the damn Hephaestus weapon aloft. Do you think we can afford it getting damaged?”

“Not for a moment, sir.”

I stomp towards those two and pick up Muramasa, letting it rest upon my back. "I think a chip in the blade is the least you have to worry about,” I say.

The officer tilts his head. “What are you—” He pauses, taking notice of my eyes. Now he realizes exactly who I am. “Ah, Dragonborn.” He nods a few times. “I expected trouble when you arrived on the premises. Now, if you would be so kindly as to return the Hephaestus weapon to us...” He holds out his hoof and tilts towards himself. “With haste?”

I laugh out loud, then immediately put a grim frown back on. “Ah, no.”

I notice the rookie about to unsheathe his blade.

That’s when I reach for the hilt of Muramasa. "You want to keep that hoof, soldier?" While I hardly planned on fighting Imperials today, I can’t very well let property of Dragonrein get stolen.

"Stop! Stop it! This is a prime example of unnecessary conflict!" Tohro flutters in, with his wing beats staggering both me and the rookie.

The officer grunts, holding up his hoof to protect from dust. “Why is it you bring nothing but trouble to us?”

Tohro is smiling as he wipes the dust on my forehead and cheeks, but I can see concern in there too. "Caro, let them have the damn thing," he says. He’s obviously not too happy with me. Now I feel like the enemy here, and I can only expect to be chewed up and spat out for threatening my superiors. But still...

“Tohro found this weapon.” I present Muramasa to the officer, then force it into Tohro’s possession. “It belongs to him.”

Tohro juggles the weapon in his hooves before he gets a good grip on it, getting a laugh out of the officer. “Somepony needs to explain the doctrine of the Imperial Legion to this welp.”

I slam a hoof to the dirt. “Welp?! You—” A white hoof covers my mouth and bottles my words.

“The Dragonborn knows not what he does, sir,” Tohro says. “It’s my fault for not explaining matters to him. I’ll ensure he understands.”

I don’t feel any regrets for making the Imperials scowl at me, but I do feel awful for garnering such a disappointed glare from Tohro. It’s enough to make anypony sick. I can tell exactly what he’s trying to convey; I should set a better example, I should not risk him his position, and it’s best to not make an enemy of the Legion again. That would make us friends at war, and that’s something I could never cope with.

“Let me guess,” I say, looking as ashamed as I can be. “Muramasa was specifically—”

Tohro goes and says my assumption in unison with me. “—retrieved for the Imperial Legion so it wouldn’t fall into the hooves of the Blackwings.” He nods and takes me aside with his wing. “I’m happy to have you back, mate, but you could at least make the effort to encapsulate your temper.”

We start away from the camp, and all the disapproving faces of the Imperials. They start to go about their business while I keep to my shame.

But, as we step onto the dirt road, Tohro’s touch brings me back into good spirits, or at least semi-well ones. He’s very good at that sort of thing. “At least take solace in knowing you’re a better colt to the Imperial Legion now than you were when we first met. For a while, long ago, they all wanted your head. Now they just act mildly disgruntled.”

I can’t argue with that.

“Keep calm and carry on, correct?” I ask.

“Of course.”

It’s odd, really. Every revelation unveiled to me by Master Hammerfell and the Greybeards, no matter how ground shattering or mind rending they may be, they all seem so manageable when I have Tohro by my side. Even after revealing Saviikaan's goal to him after our arrival to the camp the night before, he faced such horror with a smile and that daring do attitude I’ve come to expect from him. I almost regret not bringing him with me to Neigh Hrothgar. When the time comes to return, I’ll bring him along with me. Anypony that can remain happy despite being caught in a vicious cycle of dragon onslaughts is somepony I'll want with me.

In return for all of his positivity, I give Tohro a nuzzle, a gesture he reciprocates with even more force.

I missed this.

“By the way,” he whispers, “I believe we promised each other drinks.” He steps away from me and points into the distance.

At the base of the inclining hill rests a town, one that isn’t nearly as diagonally structured as Trottingham, built around a ravine. Owing to being built on marshland, the buildings are painted in moss. I fear for the alcohol.

“Welcome to Baltimare, our new base in the civil war.”

Baltimare’s rustic streets are decorated with banners of two swords clashing together, a mark befitting such a town. Unlike Everfree, whose luxurious streets paved with gold and gems integrate perfectly with its militarist origins, owing to being the home of the Imperial Legion, Baltimare’s current state is a complete contradiction. While on one side of the street I can see a squadron of organized soldiers walking in perfect unison (Tohro may wear their armor but he really does clash in nature), the opposite end of the cobblestone boasts two friendly stallions drunkenly sauntering along, singing two different drinking songs at once. Oh, and now they’re snogging. I can tell this is a town of prestige.

Further, I can see ramparts set up along the borders of the town, and given that they’re not covered in moss, I can assume those were only set up recently. When Tohro said recent, he could have meant only a few days, a week at the most.

“Three weeks,” he tells me. “Those ramparts are the newest addition. When the orders went out that we’d be staying a while, we decided an elevated patrol would be an effective way to spot any incoming threats. That was my idea, actually. The Blackwings use that regularly.”

“It seems the benefits of being a former rebel are making themselves known,” I say. “I’m surprised you haven’t summed up more respect.” I chuckle. “Why, if I were a soldier…” That’s a thought I’d rather not dwell on. “Actually, scratch that. If I’m ever a part of any army, kill me.”

“I’d think you a changeling if you ever signed on with the Legion. Their regiment is far too restrictive for a stallion of your tastes. You’d never slay a dragon unless one was to lie down in front of your squadron.”

That makes my stomach knot. “So, this will impact your position with Dragonrein? That could mean we won’t see each other until this war is over.” I don’t think I could cope with that.

“Relax, mate,” says Tohro. “I want to give Saviikaan’s possessive ass the boot just as much as you do, and I’ve got everything amended with the queen. Come, sit with me.”

“Gladly.”

There are a few bridges leading into the center of the town, which is where the majority of the population appears to be gathered. In addition to the usual rabble of earthwalkers, unicorns and pegasi, I’m treated to the sight of a few gryphons, one of which is clad in the same leather as Tohro was last night. On sight, I can recognize him as one of the Thieves Guild, and if the armor didn’t give it away, the gleam in Tohro’s expression sure does. Yet, nopony pays that bird any mind.

I find a bench, which is very inviting as the grogginess of the morning still hasn’t left me. I greedily sit upon it and stretch out, taking up nearly the whole thing. I have been getting larger, I notice. Tohro seems much shrimpier than I remember in comparison. He smiles and settles for the small bit of bench left for him. He then reaches into one of his many pockets (No doubt filled with stolen goods) and brings out a letter. I can see the remains of a purple wax seal on the back. “That’s from the queen herself?”

He pats the parchment for emphasis. “The one and only! She had to jump through a few hoops to get this to me without any of her royal advisors muddling her intentions. She doesn’t have as much absolute power as she’d care to admit. See, Platinum acknowledges that we of Dragonrein have our responsibilities, and there’s no point in me fighting this war if I can’t assist in the effort against an entire draconic invasion. Thus, she sings her sympathetic song.”

Holding it the letter for me to see, Tohro begins to read.

“’I, Queen Platinum, wife to the Late King Hurricane, sovereign leader of Equestria, issue a personal decree, which will apply only to Tohro Blackwing of the Imperial Legion as follows; until the threat of the dragons has passed, he has permission to excuse himself from his duties to the Imperial Legion to pursue tasks with the guild Dragonrein as he sees fit. In compromise, he must report for duty regularly and respond to critical missions.’ Awful generous of her, wouldn’t you agree?”

My stomach untwists itself with every word. I sit up, my legs jittery with excitement. “So we can still hunt dragons!” I pound my hooves together. “Wonderful… I can’t imagine sharing their blood with anypony else.” I’d expect Tohro to look elated, but I can’t truly tell whether or not he is because of this accursed mane in front of my eyes. I wipe it aside. “But before we go slaying anything, I think it best that we cut my mane.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he says, wearing that sinister face again. “On one condition…”

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

Swift like the bloody wind, this mare is, and she has the agility of a bird. She’s like a pegasus without wings. She manages to drift through a gathered group of soldiers and hardly disturb their formation, leaving them to look about in confusion. The mare ducks into an alley and out of sight.

“Make way, laddies!” I shout, getting the soldiers’ attention. They quickly take notice of me and break their ranks for me to charge through. I clip one of them and stumble over, getting a hoofful of a mud puddle. “Sorry there.”

He grunts and rejoins the ranks as I take off into the alley.

I can only hear the running mare via her loud and clumsy hoofsteps; she may be quick but she’s hardly subtle. Luckily, I know this alley. It’s a straight way through, and turning left at the crossroads yields a dead end. I can see splashing water coming from that very direction too. I have this mare by the teats. Grinning, I tap the hilt of my flame sword for luck.

I turn the corner, expecting to find the mare waiting for me in defiance but no weapon to defend her thieving self with. It’s like catching fish in a barrel, if the fish had rockjoint. Too easy.

But there’s a shocker. I purse my lips when I see she’s not there.

“Evidently, she’s a bloody phantom,” I say aloud. I know I saw her gallop down here, but how…

The clatter of a falling roof shingle answers my question; I’ve come across a mare who knows how to climb buildings like she’s forgotten she’s not a gryphon. She’s just slipped off the rooftop, and she’s clambering to get back up.

“Gotcha now!” I make a single noted laugh. It’s time to improvise a bit of my own climbing. I kick off the cobblestone and make a few gallops up the wall. I grapple onto a windowsill, then push myself upward, getting ahold of the next one up. I hook onto the wooden brace with one hoof, and then bring the other onto the roof. I pull myself up with all my strength. Once I’m standing again, I find myself panting. I may be a built mare, but I’m no miracle worker.

The mare is just across the roof. She doesn’t see me; rather, she’s trying to work up another jump to a lower building. I can see the satchel of goods resting on her back. If I can at least get ahold of that, I’ll be satisfied.

It’s time to take the approach of brute strength. While the mare contemplates the distance, I gain speed, slide down the slope of the roof and make a swipe at her with my hooves. I miss her by a hair as she leaps, gaining more than enough distance to make a landing. She tumbles to a stop while I’m left teetering on the ledge. Now I’m an idiot. I fumble my forelegs madly, but I’m unable to grab on. I brace myself for the rough landing.

The thundering pain in my side is already ebbing as I stand up. At least, I think it is. I gasp and crouch, touching my barrel. I can feel it throbbing. I’ll have to tolerate this for the time being, but I’m a strong mare... I can tolerate it... I’m strong. Yeah...

The mare thinks she’s lost me, leaping off the rooftop and landing like a cat, dead in the middle of the central marketplace. With that hood over her head, she looks like a moving shadow, but that disguise doesn’t work in her favor when she’s the only one wearing that sort of garb.

I’m tempted to bring out Caladbolg (That’s the name I’ve given my sword) but that would be playing dirty. I’m not that sort of mare, lest somepony gives me a reason. I have to keep this clean. I grunt through the pain and start moving again.

Slowly, with very minute movements of my legs, I step through the crowd and approach the mare. She’s looking about for any sign of my presence. When she looks my way, I quickly dart behind a passing burly fellow, a mercenary by the look of it.

“‘Ello,” I say nonchalantly, getting a grunt from him but nothing more. I return to stalking amongst the civilians. I worm my way into a group of passing monks, possibly partisans of Platinum’s sages by the purple on their robes, and walk with them. They don’t pay me any mind whatsoever, at least until I bump one of them on the way out. I’m so close to the mare, I can smell the food in her pouch. In a daring move, I dash for her, splay out my forelegs, and wrap them around her neck. “Now you’re mine!”

She thrashes against me, managing to turn around in my grasp and buck at my armor, but it’s a wasted effort. I bring my hoof to her head and remove the cowl. This mare is an adolescent, I’d say, with a peach colored body and mane. I have to admit, it’s impressive that a younger girl like this one was able to pull off such maneuvers on the roofs. Still, I win in the end, forcing her head against the ground to end her struggle.

Now that the chase is over, I put on a more soothing voice, but I’m still stern about this. “Calm down, young lady. Just hoof over your stolen goods and you’re free to go.”

The mare’s breaths begin to steady as she realizes she’s not going to jail. Not that I have any say in that. Besides, who am I to lock a younger one away? But she’s not calm by any means. Her teeth are grinding together and I can see tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why so frustrated, lassie?” I ask. “You’re not in any serious trouble.”

She shakes her head as I remove the pouch from her back. She immediately attempts to seize it. “No... but I will be! I need this grub!”

“Oh...” Now we both have our hooves on the stuff. Her reason for petty theft happens entirely too often, and it tugs at my heartstrings. “A street urchin, are ya? I can’t say I don’t understand why you’d go and take this stuff.” I have to be stern about this, though, no matter how justifiable this crime is. I get off her, taking the bag with me. “But you just can’t do that, sweetheart.”

This mare could make Tohro jealous with her sleight of hoof. She nicked several sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and bananas, though those are all squashed from her freerunning feats, and a flask of soft cider. “Now, I will be walking with you as we return this to the nice vendors. You can get yourself an oddjob if you want to buy it back.”

She makes a frustrated grumble, saying something I can’t quite make out. I only catch a few words. “...won’t let us...”

“Won’t let what...?” I begin to ask before I’m cut off.

My mane gets tossed when a sudden gust of wind overcomes me. It’s when I turn my head that I realize it isn’t the wind. Rather, it’s a blue gryphon, and I know this one personally. He’s one of the lead members of the Thieves Guild.

“Hullo, Avion,” I say.

The leather clad bird simply says “Hm,” to acknowledge me. I know he’s a nice fellow, but I seem to have crossed him unintentionally. He reaches out, gesturing to the stolen food, then beckons for me to hand it over.

My eyes travel around the marketplace, and I’ve noticed we’re drawing a murmuring crowd. No doubt seeing me, a petty theft and a disgruntled thief is cause for attention, but that problem should take care of itself. When the Imperial soldiers come through, they usher everyone away, telling them to move along. “No lollygaggin’!” one of the soldiers says. With that, a potentially awkward situation disperses. Although, given the state of things, it’s still fairly uncomfortable.

I turn back to Avion, taking my fedora off and folding the brim. I do that when I’m embarassed. “So...”

The gryphon isn’t looking at me, rather the apprehended mare. He snags the bag of food from me, with little resistance on my part (Come now, this fella has muscles to spare). He then gently passes it back to the mare. “Are you well, Dew?”

“Yeah...” She sniffles, clutching tight to the bag. “Am now... Thank you.”

Ah, it’s just as I thought. That’s one bit of confusion put to rest, and a hat put back on my head. “This another one that’s under the guild’s protection? You understand, I thought she was just being greedy...”

“She has good reasons for why she takes food,” says Avion. “She rarely takes more than what she has now, and the guild pays the shopkeepers to look the other way when she does. I guess she’s more stealthy than we thought, if she passed under your radar for the past few months.”

The mare, Dew, starts to take her leave, heading off on the bridge to the Baltimare outskirts.

“But, wait,” I say, tilting my head, “I don’t get how she is so special. She seems perfectly capable of getting a job.”

Avion gives a sorrowful smirk. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” He turns his head. “Dew, wait a moment.”

She comes back around. “Yes?”

“Show vigilante Rosemary here precisely what happened the last time you tried to make an honest living.”

Dew’s lip quivers. She takes a moment to breathe, then nods. “Okay...” she says meekly. Slowly, she removes her cloak entirely, getting down to just her tweed garments. This reveals more of her neck and face. Now I feel like a complete fool and a half for not taking notice earlier of how miserable she truly looks.

"Another one..." I say, sighing in empathy.

Dew’s neck is covered in blemishes, bruises and scrapes, and her legs are stick-like and knobbly. As she pulls back her mane, I can also see numerous cuts along her cheeks and forehead. More or less everywhere except the most visible parts of her face are completely wrecked, especially with how malnourished she is.

She sees my look of concern and immediately hides her injuries away again. “You can’t do anything to help me,” she says. “All I need is the food for my friends and I’ll be fine.”

“For the time being,” says Avion. “Altair’s offer is still open, and I urge you to take it before you collapse from exhaustion.”

Dew, clearly exhausted as is, resumes her solemn trek back to her life of hell, and I’m useless to stop her. She stops to waves Avion off. “I’ll never be that desperate.”

It would feel rude to say anything until she’s out of earshot. When she’s blended in to all of the other commoners and taken her horrid bodily damage with her, I face Avion. “I’m in the same boat as you, laddie. I don’t see why she’d not join your guild if it got her out of that hellhole any faster. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“It’s easy for you to make a decision like that when you are not living her life.”

The gryphon turns to walk away, but I’m not quite done here. I start to follow. “B-but, if she’s under the Thieves Guild’s protection, why can’t you save her?”

He brings his talons to his face and rubs his eyes, sighing. “I’ve told you twice before, vigilante, it doesn’t work that way. You truly are inept.”

That just steams my bun. As we cross the bridge, I gallop around to intercept this jackal. “I am not inept, laddie! I’m just confused!”

Avion rolls his eyes. He uses one of his claws, wagging it at me for emphasis. “Protection of the Thieves Guild only grants immunity to local law enforcement. It does not protect from Imperial law...” He eyes some Imperial soldiers giving him glares. “Keep moving.” They do so begrudgingly. "So, our claws are tied."

“Okay, but what about just going in there and—” I draw my hoof across my neck. Avion grabs my hoof and forces it down.

“Do we look like the Sisterhood of Shadows to you?!” he snaps in a hushed yell. His eyes then widen as he slaps his own mouth shut. He panickedly checks behind himself, and looks to the sky. “You’re going to get us all killed. Speak of the Sisterhood—” he checks himself again, “—and they shall appear.”

I smirk. I can’t help it. Him breaking his stoicism to throw a fit like that is just priceless. “Oh, stop being paranoid.”

“My point still stands,” he says, taking a few deep breaths between words. “The Thieves Guild does not commit murders for any reason but to protect our own. We are not assassins.”

That’s an irrefutable point he makes. And it’s the last thing he says before he flares out his wings and makes a fluttering leap onto the unoccupied fruit stall by the tavern.

That’s when another thought enters my mind. “Wait one more moment, laddie!”

Avion stops his ascension, laying down on the tarp of the stall. “Ah, yes?”

“What if, say...” I can’t believe I’d ever consider this, but seeing Dew in such a sorry state, and after hearing so much about the unfortunate tales of abuse hidden beneath the rustic bustle of Baltimare, I’d resort to anything at this point. “...I were to resolve the matter?”

Avion smiles, but I don’t think it’s a smile of confidence. He stands back up, then climbs to the roof of the tavern. Before he leaps out of sight, he simply says, “Have you the audacity?”

Now there’s a question that has kept me up at night.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

“Just break it all off, mate. ‘S no good anymore.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I nod, then give Tohro a comforting nudge on his leg. “This might sting a little.”

His sarcastic laugh is music to my ears. “I’ve had far worse, you know that.” Still, he braces for my mercy.

I clench my teeth around a clump of broken feathers and yank, snapping them free from Tohro’s wing in one fell motion. “Ah!” He lets out a surprised gasp and tenses up.

I blow the feathers away and leave them to the mercy of the wind. “I told you it would sting.” I say, watching the feathers fly past the marketplace and end up in the canals below the bridges. It’s a simple yet lovely sight, a true piece of art. I’d like to see that sort of painting hung in a Jarl’s chamber.

“Damn you, Caro,” Tohro says, smiling like a jester on tea. He fluffs up his wings, showing off a still unkempt lower half of his rightmost appendage, then points to it expectantly. “Well, keep at it, then. You want that mane tended to or not?”

I give the pegasus a deadpan stare before I lean my head back into the feathers, taking one in my lips at a time and putting them back into place. It’s a slow and arduous process. Why Tohro asked me to do it is beyond me. He seems capable enough. “I’m beginning to think you deliberately neglected to preen yourself until I returned.”

“Oh, you can read me like a book,” he says. “By the way, I can’t help but notice you have really clean teeth.”

“Well, ah... thank you?” What a peculiar thing to say. But it does answer my question; my predisposition for hygiene clearly makes me a viable assistant for a cleaning habit like this. I’m already down to the last row of feathers, in fact. “I hope this doesn’t become a recurring occasion,” I lie. While it’s not exactly my idea of a good time to service a pegasus like this, it’s one way of spending time with a dear friend, and if it keeps us together, I may as well become Tohro’s regular preener. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m secretly enjoying this.

I rip out one last broken stem (“Agh, dammit! Warn me next time!”), leaving Tohro’s wing a shining paragon of perfectly smooth feathers. I pull away from him and survey my work, which glistens in the high noon sun. Tohro is doing the same, and I can see he’s well satisfied.

“I’ll be damned, Caro Dragonborn. You truly are a saint of sanitary circumstance.”

“You flatter me,” I say, fanning my face sarcastically.

Given that Tohro’s promise to tend to my mane will have to wait until we’re in a more acceptable place to do so, there’s not to do from here on but sit and enjoy the day. Talk for a little longer, perhaps. The world has changed so little in two months and yet so much at the same time. I suppose it’s only the things you pay attention to that change when your eyes wander.

Ah, of course. Drinks. I knew something was slipping my mind. As Neigh Hrothgar is a mostly dry region (In terms of alcohol; definitely not in weather), I’ve been spared the zip of some sweet mead, making those two months feel all the longer.

“So, The Broken Saddle. It seems like a pleasant sort of watering hole,” I say, breaking a long period of quiet in the process. I mean what I say in jest, of course. I wouldn’t touch a place with that name if I had a ten foot sword. Or, well, Muramasa.

Tohro shakes his head and steps down from the bench, circling around and motioning for me to follow him. Of course, I oblige. “Actually, that bar is the very reason this town exists in the first place.” We begin to move out of the marketplace, trekking back the long path leading to the entrance. I can see quite a few patrons moving out of the bar in question, which is labeled with peeling letters. Accompanying a few stained windows as a boastful sign.

Over five-thousand served! All races welcome!

“What sort of world do we live in where they have to brag about that?” I say, hunching over in a moment of frustration.

Tohro steps forward and holds the door open for me, relinquishing some very chipper bar dwellers swaying their way in the general direction of their homes. Or ditches. I smirk at the sight.

I continue speaking. “Respect goes to them for being able to enjoy themselves, despite the possibility of a dragon landing on their heads. Do you suppose they’re in denial, or are they just ignorant?”

“Don’t grow all pretentious on me, mate,” says Tohro. He waves me in. “It’s a simple matter of them focusing on the brighter side of life. Or getting drunk. Either way, the dragon’s onslaught is no excuse to turn into a grim monger, like, uh, yourself.” He looks a little pained to have said that.

“You have a point there.” I take my first steps into The Broken Saddle. As far as bars go, it doesn’t want for size or publicity... or rowdiness. From one end to another, the patrons disorderly stand over their tables, chugging their alcohol with no cause for decency. While I am somewhat disgusted by the perpetual mess this place must be, it’s also refreshing to see a more honest side of ponykind for once. I feel as if I were to ask a question, I’d get a genuine response, rather than the questioned burying their answer in their skewed morality. For all of its broken appearance, I’m liking Baltimare more by the minute.

Tohro flies above all of the nonsensical babbling of the drunk bar demons and lands right at the helm of the place, an elevated platform that boasts the main counter. An ragged unicorn mare serves drinks by the dozens with her levitation magic. That takes talent.

“Good day to you, Whiskey,” says Tohro to the bartender, earning him a grunt from her.

This Whiskey is apparently beyond her years of sympathy. But I suppose if you’re lucky to live that long, you earn some leeway for being blunt. She cocks an eyebrow at Tohro. “Ah, the one Imperial who doesn’t have a metal pole up his ass. What can I do for you, hon?”

The pegasus leans over the counter enthusiastically, like some child at a sweetery. “Ah, aren’t you ever a sight for sore eyes.”

“You’re not bartering with me, hon. Buy your shit or get out.”

I too lean on the counter, mirroring Tohro’s actions. “She’s a jolly good mistress.” I get a snort from her in response. Snickering, I retrieve a few bits from my pouch and lay them on the counter. “I’ll take the richest mead this will buy.”

“Comin’ up,” says Whiskey. Just as she goes to the racks to find a suitable brew, she turns back to me. “Uh, couldja come a little closer, hon?”

That’s an odd request, but I see no reason not to. She’s not armed or intimidating. “Sure...?” I move my head closer to her as she does the same. She purses her lips as she sizes me up, taking an especially close look at my eyes.

“Yep, you’re the one, alright...”

“The one?” Oh dear, my return to Equestria must be known here. I’m not quite prepared for a session of admiration from these bar devils, especially if they’re well and drunk. They might do something they regret, and I’ll have to respond accordingly...

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s not what you think. See, there’s a vigilante running about town who comes in here every other day, looking for you. She described you as, ah...” Whiskey clears her throat and puts on a thick northern brogue. “‘A raggy ol’ laddie with lizard eyes and a permanent scowl. Kinda scary, y’know?’ That’s what she told me the first day she strolled in here like she owned the damn place.”

“Who is this vigilante, anyway?” Tohro asks. “I’ve heard talk about her amongst the Legion. Evidently her mission statement is to uphold the law where the local authority can’t.”

Whiskey passes me a mug of the mead I asked for, but I’ve lost my thirst. “What? But why can’t the Legion do anything about the crime here?”

Tohro brings his hoof between his eyes. “I’m not happy about it either, mate, but the agreement Queen Platinum made with the jarl of this town was that if the Legion is to stay, they can only deal with civil war matters.” Whiskey hoofs him a mug as well, which he takes sip of. “Good stuff. Anyway, I can see why. I mean, the last thing anypony wants is martial law, and the more time we devote to the war effort, the better.”

That is a grim truth I won’t deny. At least we have good natured fellows like this vigilante to assist where guards fail. “So, might I meet this mare?” I ask Whiskey.

“She sleeps and takes her meals in the stockroom.” The barmaid gestures behind herself, looking past the racks of alcoholic beverages to a small nook in the wall. It looks completely unremarkable; nopony would go back there unless they were required to. “Some ponies aren’t fond of her stirring up the legal order of things but she’s not doing anything wrong. I like a little spice in this rut of a town, so as long as Rosemary keeps up the vigilante work, she’ll always have a place to stay here.”

I slam the my drink to the table before I can take another sip, and Tohro does much of the same. Whereas I carry a face of awe and respect for Rosemary, he looks downright sinister. “From the bastard child of General Tangerine to a known vigilante. That mare is full of surprises.”

I roll my eyes. “You want her so much right now, I can tell.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I can think of worse places to sleep. None of them come to mind at the moment, though. Rosemary must be well and used to napping in enclosed spaces like this. Assuming the Von Spice villa has a barn, I'll put down a sack of coins that she's slept there on more than one occasion.

I begin to close the door to the stockroom, but Tohro stays my hoof. "Too dark." I can see a bit of sweat forming on his forehead. I nod and leave the door open.

I tap the cold floor. "Rosemary? Are you here?"

"Ah, hullo!"

I hear her deep voice but I don't see her. I look up, past several barrels of mead, to see the yellow earthwalker lazily splayed out on top. She's clad in her duster coat and mail, in addition to a few pieces of custom leg armor, which are hanging over her perch, dangling like a broken branch.

"You're doing well?" she asks with a slur. Somepony has been enduring an alcoholic assault on herself. "I hope this dream'll last longer than my other 'uns..." She glares at me and Tohro in equal amounts, dropping her drunken smile as she notices a missing mare. "Aw, come now, you couldn't have even brought Shae along? It's only been the longest bloody two months of my life..."

"You’re not dreaming, Rosie. And you know Shae is taking care of Celina," says Tohro.

He informed me of that misfortune the night before, what with Celina's revelation and Shae's ongoing struggle to bring her back to her senses. My distress came from finding out about leaving Shae in danger again, but knowing she was able to defend herself absolved that potential torment. It's horrid enough that Celina has fallen into despair, so I'm also relieved that her immortality is kept a close secret, restricted to the Imperial Legion, the denizens of Everfree and a fair trusted few. If news of such a thing were to reach the Blackwings, I'd truly fear for Shae and Celina.

"Ah, bless that mare's large heart for allowing room for both me and Celina. I don't know what I would do without her." Rosemary blushes as she slides along a ladder to our level. "I honestly don't know how I've lasted this long without any of you." She stumbles into giving me a hug, which Tohro sees fit to enforce by wrapping his forelegs around both of us. While I am struck as uncomfortable for what is obviously an inebriated act, I warm up to it quickly. I'm strong enough to lift them both up as I tighten the embrace.

Rosemary squeals and worms her way out of my grip, snorting like a jester. "You know, you look like you’re all muscle and rage, but you’re quite the cuddlebug."

“I’m just happy to see my family again… Most of it, anyway.”

Tohro is still holding on for dear life, as if I'm the only thing keeping him from falling off an invisible cliff. He sneers at me. "You're tearing up, mate."

Not having realized the waterworks had started up, I quickly tighten my grip for a moment and make Tohro let out a desperate gasp for air. "Who's tearing up?" I ask as I watch him let forth a few more heaves.

"You win!" he squeaks. "I surrender!"

"Do you now?"

"I'm from Prance! I'm a coward! You are my superior overlord!"

"That's what I thought." I chuckle triumphantly, letting up on my grasp enough for him to have a bit of leeway. I turn to the drunkenly snickering Rosemary. "Now, what are we to do about you?"

"Well, ah..." The ginger mare raises her hoof, then retracts it. "Hold on." Somepony seems to have lost their train of thought. Then she plops onto her haunches and holds her head. "Argh, there it is..." She looks up at me and smiles meekly. "Have you ever heard of coffee?"

I look over at Tohro and see he looks just as perplexed as myself. Looking back to Rosemary, I answer, "I can't say we have, no," and wait to see her reaction.

She doesn’t appear all that surprised. "That’s not much of a shock. It’s a beverage hardly known outside of Equestria. I've kept in contact with a few zebra traders. They're independents, nice folks." She trots to her pouch, which lays abandoned over a bench of swords and spare pieces of armor. From it, she retrieves a small purse and brings it to us. The contents are a bunch of black beans. "These grow in Saddle Arabian tropics, and they make for one hell of a drug when ground up and mixed with water."

Tohro stares into the purse with a twinge of doubt in his expression. “Are you sure it’s not addictive?”

"How does it taste raw?" I ask, taking a single bean from the pouch and popping it into my mouth. The sudden explosion of bitterness let loose on the first chew makes me spit it out instantly. I understand Saddle Arabian customs to be a stark contrast from ours, but even zebracean tongues cannot find this decent. "Horrid! How could that ever be considered quality food?"

Rosemary laughs out loud. “Simple; it isn’t.”

“Blagh!” Tohro spits out a few beans too and shoves the purse back into Rosemary’s possession. I should have warned him. “So it tastes like fermented buffalo shit even with water?”

“Eeyup,” Rosemary says earnestly. “And frankly, I can’t live without it. It may not have the same kick as skooma, but it lets you keep your teeth.” She trots over to the rest of her stock, picks up her bags, fastens them to her barrel and throws on her fedora. “Shall we?”

“Shall we where? We’ve literally nowhere to go,” Tohro says.

We’ve stepped out of the stockroom and ascended the stairs back into the bar, passing by Whiskey as we left The Broken Saddle. As we trot through the rugged residential quarters, we see many commoners simply resting in the sun, no doubt trying to get away from the noise of the Imperials clanking about. The noise has irritated me too.

We settle down in a moist, sunken area ripe with moss, weeds and disorganized flower growth. I take a seat resting against the well, which Rosemary puts to use. She dips the bucket in and comes up with a healthy amount of water, which she scoops into a wooden cup and mixes in with the beans. She then holds the cup to me. “Uh, could you…”

“Of course.” I inhale. “Yul.” I breath a small, controlled steam of flames from my lips, warming the cup and bringing the brown mixture within to a simmer. Rosemary raises the cup in salute to me and takes a careful sip.

“Well,” she says, smacking her lips, “we’re a guild with no tasks, are we?”

Tohro flutters down onto the brick rim of the well and lays down, giving Rosemary a smirk.“You’re our newest member and you act like you’ve been running it since its birth.”

“I’m just tryin’ to contribute! Beyond bein' your blacksmith, I at least want to spark a few idea in your barbarian fairy minds.”

Tohro scoffs. “Nothing you say makes sense,” he says derisively.

“Don’t berate her,” I say. I angle my head to look up at Rosemary, who is still sipping her drink. “So, how did you fall into this vigilante lifestyle?”

She makes a single-noted laugh before draining the rest of the cup. “Well, not everypony can be the legendary Dragonborn or some sort of war hero, but we can all do our part. I decided to gather up what was left of Glasswork’s forge back in Trottingham and leave before Mum noticed I was even there. She’s part of the Carrier Clan now, by the way. I heard Jarl Drake discussing it with Wolf River.” She frowns. “You blokes will keep me away from my mum for now, right?”

“Only to rub salt on the wounds I gave her in the Barrow,” Tohro snorts.

Rosemary looks to me, probably desiring a more sincere answer. I smile at her, which she reciprocates. “You’re both wonderful,” she says sweetly. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about her too much. As far as she’s concerned, I’m still back at the villa… And if the rumors are true, she’s goin' to marry Wolf River.”

Tohro and I share a glance before I make an effort to comfort Rosemary. “Are you well with that?”

“Huh?” She doesn’t look upset, upon closer inspection. “Why wouldn’t I? Mum can do whatever the hell she wants. And Wolf River, he’s a little rambunctious but he may as well be the nicest stallion in Trottingham. I don’t see any reason to complain.” She says that, but I can hear a twinge of despite on her words. She glares at her reflection in a puddle beneath her. “It’s fine for her to choose who she marries…”

Tohro tilts his head. “But, uh, you’re with Shae now, so…”

“You think my mum will care?” Rosemary interrupts. “She’ll wed me off to some rich dunce in a second before she cares about my happiness. You think we northerners are idiots? You’ve seen nothin’ until you’ve seen this jackass. I can’t even be bothered to remember his name.” She spits into the puddle. “I look at Shae and I see freedom. Life, vibrancy, a raw magical aura that had me drunk the second I laid eyes on her.” She now has a whimsical look in her eyes as she faces the sky. Thinking of Shae must be an immediate cure-all for any negativity on her conscience. “But you don’t want to hear about that. I came across Baltimare while travelin’ with that zebra caravan I mentioned, waitin' for the both of you. I wasn’t pleased with what I saw, to say the least. Petty thieves, violence and sour moods were all I could see everywhere I looked. And the local soldiers here get paid hourly regardless of their effort so they don’t do diddly squat!”

“So along comes Rosemary, daughter of Oregano to give this town a spice of justice,” Tohro japes.

“I had to keep my full name under wraps, just in case, but that’s more or less how it went. I roughed up criminals whenever they saw fit to do harm. That’s when I got the Thieves Guild’s attention. And that’s also how I found out that you,” she looks to Tohro, “saw fit to join their ranks.”

“The extra income is nice,” he responds.

“And he’s not hurting anypony innocent,” I say. “I have no quarrel with the guild if they don’t want our heads. So, did they take ire with your actions?”

Rosemary shakes her head. “No, they’re all fine and dandy with vigilantism, in fact, they thanked me. But they advised me to know who is under their protection. See, Altair, out of the kindness of his heart, defends anypony who needs help, allowing them to steal scraps without fear of arrest.” She gestures to an aged fellow laying down on cloth scraps in an alley. Yet, he doesn’t lack for food, eating his way through a bundle of carrots.

“It’s because he’s not too keen on ponies getting too rich for their own good,” says Tohro, “so he helps the poor. He’s going back to the guild’s original mission, in helping even out the odds. And the Imperial Legion can’t do a damn thing about it, not that I would anyway.”

“Heroes outside of the law, I like it,” I say. But my feelings towards the state of Baltimare is still a double-edged sword. “But isn’t it a little dishonest on Altair’s part? Encouraging thievery amongst the common folk?”

“Some ponies need that sort of protection,” says Tohro. “It’s just like how quite a few look up to you because they can’t do anything to save themselves even at the best of times. And besides, aren’t you the type who would do anything necessary to make Equestria safer? Altair just has other means of going about it.”

If anypony else had told me that, it wouldn’t resonate with me nearly as much. Regardless, it’s a valid argument. That street urchin does seem to be happy enough. So, maybe Altair has the right idea. “Very well. You were saying, Rosemary?”

The mare stands up and cracks her neck. “Well, that’s the extent of it. In truth, I haven’t had much to do these past few days. The rapscallions of this town have learned enough about not disobeyin’ the law in my presence, and I’m sure that lesson will remain in my absence.” She frolics about, kicking up a few puddles in her excited dance. “We’re a guild again, laddies! Come along!” She takes ahold of my hooves and urges me to stand up and dance with her, though it’s more of a boisterous forced jig than anything else. “We have maidens to rescue from evil overlords! Criminals to capture! Mead to drink! Dragons to slay! Mead to drink!” She spins around on a single hind leg. "Beware, beware, Guild Dragonrein’s come!"

Laughing at her jubilee, I clutch my ears. “Don’t butcher the song!” I moan.

“Hey, here’s an idea!” Tohro chirps, causing Rosemary to halt her romp. “We have free reign, at least for the time being. Why don’t we go off and visit Shae? There’s little to no chance she’ll be able to join us, but we can at least keep her in high spirits. It’s been too long since we’ve seen such a pretty face.”

Rosemary’s ears twitch and her nostrils flare. She dashes right up to Tohro. “Oi, that pretty face belongs to me.” She then relaxes a little. “But I agree. Like I said, these months without her have been paaaainful. I need to see her somethin’ awful.” She pats her bags. “I have everything I need, so, to Everfree?”

“To Everfree!” Tohro raises his forelegs high and cheers. “Lead the way, Dragonborn!”

“Very well!” I shout with gusto. I’ve longed for the thrill of travel for some time and to have it within my grasp is a welcome notion. I wish the breathe in the chill, dewey air of the highlands, I wish to hear the bustle of the largest cities! I want to bask in the simple pleasures even the most broken kingdom has to offer. Bloody hell, I could eat! I wonder if they serve chips in Everfree?

But my desire for all things culinary gets tossed away when I collide with something below me. I look down and see a little tyke. He’s a yellow pegasus child, smiling up at me. He wears a rough tunic and has the most adorable little scars across his nose and neck— Wait…

“You said you’re the Dragonborn?” he says. “Me and my buddies have been looking all over town for you!” He looks away from me to Rosemary and Tohro, who have just caught up to me. “Hello,” he adds quickly.

“Hello to you too,” says Tohro, giving a small, playful bow.

Two fillies, one purple and another light green, come by, literally rolling over each other and toppling down the dirt road. Their little heads slam into the wall of a nearby hut, but it does little to dampen their spirits. They just break into smiles and laugh it out.

“You couldn’t have seen that before I got here,” says Rosemary to Tohro.

The yellow colt waves the roly-poly children over to him. “Hey, girls! I found ‘im!”

“Found who?” asks the purple one. She squirms away from the green one and gallop to the yellow one’s side.

“Excalibur,” the yellow one says, rolling his eyes. “You idiot, it’s the Dragonborn! And his guild! We’ve hit the motherlode.”

Fame and recognition is one thing, but a sudden approach like this leaves me without anything I feel is worth saying, which only serves to embarrass me further with these three looking at me, wide-eyed and awestruck, expecting something amazing. “I see I have a reputation here?” I ask, making an effort to be gentle as I pat the yellow one on the head. He grunts as I do so.

“You’re a hero, you know,” he says. “My friend works in the Imperial Legion and she talks about your feats all the time! She saw you slay that frost dragon in Everfree like it was a mudcrab!”

“Nasty things,” says the green one quietly.

“And then she saw you kill two more just a few miles from here, and then she told me you were camping out with the Legion and you’d be nearby! Wow!” He holds his head, clearly exasperated. “I’ve met the Dragonborn! I’ll have the center of attention in the orphanage!”

“We will, Lemon. Don’t be selfish,” says the purple one. She reaches out her hoof to me. “So, Dragonborn. I’m Salad Elegance, you can call attention addict here Lemon, and the shy one in the back,” she gestures to the meek green filly, who sees fit to back away, “is Tealeaves. And, yes, cat’s out of the bag, we’re orphans. Do you feel sorry for us yet?” She looks at me expectantly again.

Part of me is distracted by the bandage around this Salad Elegance’s forehead. I start to say, “Well, I—”

She interrupts. “Well, don’t. We’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to ask a question, and the answer is yes or no.”

Okay, that simplifies matters, even if I’m not entirely sure what those matters are. “Ask away,” I say.

“Will you play tag with us?” asks Tealeaves.

Of all the questions in the world… I’m left to scratch my head in confusion and a lack of response. I’ve never even played tag before. My entire childhood was spent with swords, knives, axes and the forge. This is a question I don’t think I can answer without sounding like an eternal dunce. I turn to Tohro and Rosemary, somewhat internally praying for them to answer for me.

They both smile and nod. "I think Shae can wait a few minutes longer," says Tohro.

"You need to let loose a little, trust us," Rosemary adds.

That's all the encouragement I need. I look back to Salad Elegance and smile. "Alright, you want to have fun? Let's have fun.” I point over the heads of her, Lemon and Tealeaves. “We'll give all three of you a thirty second head start."

Lemon hops around, whooping at the top of his lungs, then nudges me in the chest. "You've got it, Dragonborn! Go, girls, go!" He nearly trips over as he breaks into a clumsy gallop.

Tohro starts flapping his wings as the three children round the corner and go out of sight. I still his wings. “Calm down, it’s just tag.”

He immediately retracts his wings and hops away. "Now now, you'll ruin my fine preening," he whines.

"So? You can just get Caro to do it again,” Rosemary says, giving a sly grin.

“Now there’s an enticing thought,” Tohro says. He stares at me, wiggling an eyebrow. “Then I’ll show you how to use the oil.”

I give a snarky laugh. “Oh, hardy har har.”

Tohro splays out his groomed feathers. “What? It really brings out the sheen.”

“Uh, laddies,” Rosemary says, dropping her snide expression and pointing ahead of us. “I think it’s been thirty seconds. Are we going to chase those tykes or not?”

“Oh, right.” Tohro also starts to look serious, albeit a tad too serious for a child’s game. This must be how he looks when alongside his fellow Imperial soldiers. “I think we should all search a different sector of this district—”

I silence him with a tap on his barrel. “That won’t be necessary. Allow me.” I take a deep breath.

“Allow you what?” Rosemary asks, pupils darting about.

Tohro seems to understand well enough, backing away and clearing a space for me to focus. “I do believe he’s doing something Dragonborn related.”

Indeed I am. This is a shout that Master taught me personally. It’s simple, but tactically powerful, and I foresee much use of it in the future. I close my eyes and say the draconic word, “Lass!”

I recall the words of Master. “This is an essential ability that every Dragonborn of the past, particularly Doré Westnaire, took great advantage of. Friends and foes alike will appear to you, regardless of distance or obstacle. You will see their auras, and they will not be able to hide.”

The world goes black for a fraction of a second before returning as a slightly blurred, monochromatic haze. I look around, taking a few steps to get a bearing on this new sensation. It’s as if I’ve come down with tunnel vision. But nevertheless, I can see the white auras of the commoners of Baltimare, most of it merged together from the bustle of the marketplace. I move my attention to the buildings around us, and see three small bumbling figures waddling about, obscured by two cottages ahead of me.

Keeping the aura sight up, I wave Tohro and Rosemary forward. “I found them.” I point to the left side of the cottages. “You two go around, and I’ll take the opposite side. We’ll pin them down.”

“Right,” says Rosemary. “I’ll chase them into a trap. Just don’t shout them into a stone wall or anything if they give us the slip.” She starts out galloping, with Tohro flying hot on her trail.

“Nonsense,” he says. “Caro may be a violent one, but children are one thing he harbors no resentment for.”

As they disappear out of regular sight, I notice that their auras are a light blue. I remember what else Hammerfell told me about the shout. He said, “Those you keep close to your heart will be marked accordingly, just to ensure you don’t do anything you may regret.” Whomever invented this shout certainly thought of everything.

Right. Tag. I gallop to the cottage ahead. Conveniently, a unicorn colt is laying out boxes, which I leap onto as steps. “Oi!” he calls out, but he doesn’t sound too upset. I then turn, jump and grab ahold of the cottage’s wooden sign, pulling myself over and stepping onto the rooftop. The shingles bend underneath my weight. Oh dear. This is what happens when you build a home in the marshlands.

I step lightly across the roof, breaking into a gallop and leaping onto the next rooftop over. After I recover from a landing roll, I notice the children are moving quickly down the block. They’re out in the open, straight in front of me. I see Tohro flying overhead. “I’ll cut them off,” he says.

Never having played this game before, I wonder if all games are this intense. I should have gone outside more often in my youth.

I smile. The hunt is on.

Rosemary is galloping at the ground level. I look down to her and say, “Close them off at the end of the block. I’ll pick them off one by one.”

“Say what?” she asks, hunching her head.

"That's the rules of tag, isn't it?" Not waiting for her answer, I crouch and shout, “WULD NAH KEST!”

The sting of cold air upon my face, brought on by an aerial dash, lasts for only a moment before I fall to the grass and drift to a stop. I look about at the many auras of the townsfolk stepping back and gasping at my abilities. I ignore their mumbled words of awe and wonder, though I still catch mutterings of my name and title.

The aura of the one of the children has changed course into a nearby alleyway. I gallop inside, trudging through soppy grass and mud. I see Tealeaves standing midway between me and the other end of the alley. She spots me, shrieking and laughing simultaneously, then makes a break for it. That’s when Tohro flies in and blocks the path, leaving Tealeaves with nowhere to run. I gallop to her and tap her chest.

“Tag.”

She stomps and huffs. “Aw, come on! That’s cheap!” She laughs again. “Have you caught Lemon or Salad yet?”

“No,” I say, “but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“That’s a handy trick you have there, mate,” says Tohro.

I turn around and search through the auras again, finding nothing of significance. At least, until…

“Get your little rump back here! I ain’t playin’ around no more!” Rosemary gallops by, chasing after the madly giggling Lemon and Salad Elegance. And as she does so, I realize that I’m rather hungry. It’s these children and their accursed names of food. Perhaps families are wanting enough that they name their children after what they want most at their times of birth, that way they could… What the hell am I thinking?

In my tract, I’ve chased after Rosemary, who has backed the children up to the edge of the canal running through the central marketplace. She smilingly serenely, evidently lost to the stupid fun of this game. I have to say I’m suffering the same fate. Heh, ‘suffering’.

“We can make this easy,” she says. “I’ve already let a few of you varmints get away, I ain’t lettin’ another one out of my sight.”

A few? Last I checked, she only let Tealeaves slip away. What is she—

“Come here!” She lunges at the both of them, but Lemon is a slippery kid. He spreads his wings and quickly dodges her attack, but Salad Elegance isn’t as quick to the jump. Rosemary seizes her and ends up bringing her over the edge and into the canal. The mare and the filly’s sputtering as they bob on the surface of the water is most amusing. At least they’re laughing all the while. “Tag!” chirps Rosemary.

I lean stand over the edge and ask, “Can you swim?”

“Of course!” says Salad Elegance.

Rosemary nods her head as she lays on her back, doing a backstroke. “Yes! What sort of bloody idiot can’t swim?”

“Just checking.” I hear more laughter. Turning my head, I see Lemon doing a fancy yet mocking waltz, which is only made possible by his wings. “I’ll get the pegasus,” I say to Rosemary as she makes a swim for the wooden dock, Salad Elegance following suit.

However, as I turn to chase Lemon, I see he’s either older than he appears to be, or he’s an early bloomer in terms of flight. He soars over a whole line of houses. Luckily, my aura sight is still working well. I see his aura squat down close to the opposite end of the house line. He must think he has a chance of outsmarting me. That’s a shame for him.

I take the long way around the house, stepping onto the cobblestone street. I decide to toy with Lemon for a little while, feigning looking up into the trees and around the vegetation that has forced its way into the rural area (Again, settling in a marshland is a forced compromise between civilization and nature). I take a peek at the child as he huddles down behind a row of cropped bushes. My heightened hearing detects him giggling. Oh, he thinks he’s so clever. But he’s the fool. My prey cannot hide.

I act as if I’m about to waltz away without another glance, but then I spin around. “Su!”

Lemon floats out of the bushes, wrapped in a purple glow. His kicking and struggling is a complete waste of effort. I will him towards me, though I have to strain myself due to his resistance. “Don’t thrash,” I say. “Nothing more you can do.”

He obeys, but only because something else has caught his attention. “Uh, Dragonborn...” He gestures to his left and right. Evidently, magically suspending a child in the air against his will gathers the attention of many a skeptical folk.

So I’m standing here, surrounded by leering commoners. I can hear them muttering accusations under their breath, but I can tell they’re afraid to come forth and say anything. I sympathize with them for their confusion; I have to admit, this is a fairly awkward situation.

“We were just playing tag!” says Lemon, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The shout’s use has worn out at this point anyway. The child falls to the ground unharmed.

“I became overzealous, I apologize.” I try to look well-meaning to the onlookers, but I know I’ve failed in that regard. They all begin to walk away.

Lemon places his hoof on my knee. “Don’t overcompensate, you’ll just end up looking like an ass.”

I smile at him. “That’s ill language for your age.” I tap him on his wither. “Tag.”

He smiles back for a moment, but it doesn’t last long as he looks off at nothing in particular. “There’s a fair lot ill about me, Dragonborn.”

I can safely say this has been one of the odder days of my life, waking up in an Imperial camp and exploring this mossy town, then preparing to leave only to be interrupted by a game of tag. A rather intense game of tag, at that, and a very fun one. It feels like it’s been an eternity since I even stopped to have fun. There’s just so little of such a thing to find myself in.

But by Lemon’s statement there, I can assume there’s more grimness beneath all this fun. Such is the way of the twilight age.

“You can tell me what ails you. I’m here to help.”

The child nods, though he still looks defeated. “I know that, alright. Some ponies are dead scared of you, thinking you’re some sort of cursed pony, but I still believe in heroes.” He lets out a meek chuckle. “They say I’m naive for that, though.”

“They being who?” I ask.

“The other children in the orphanage. See, when Rosemary came along, she took a shine to us, almost immediately. She told us about everything you’ve done since you escaped from Gallopagos Keep. That’s when I knew heroes, like the ones in my books, still exist out there. Not everypony has to be a mercenary or a thug to make it in this land, right?”

I dwell on that for a moment as Lemon starts walking back towards the canal. He’s awfully philosophical for a child. He rivals Shokenda in thought provoking, I’d even warrant. “It can be tough to be noble when nopony gives you the chance, especially with all of the beastly ponies hiding amongst the decent ones," I say, thinking back to what I’ve done to those beastly ones, and the sight of their corpses as I left them behind. “I must confess, sometimes, I find myself giving in to the easiest option, rather than the right option. And there doesn’t seem to ever be an in-between. Maybe the reason there aren’t as many heroes as there should be is because it’s just not easy.”

“It’s easy for you! You lifted me up through sheer willpower. That’s insanely amazing.”

He has no idea. All that’s easy for me is to kill. I’ve never been able to understand my fellow ponies, even as a child. Especially as a child. It was the reason I was an introvert, a friend only to the forge. It’s the reason I only confided in Master, and why I consider Tohro my best friend; he’s my first friend.

So, yes, I’m a stranger in my own homeland. How can I be a storybook hero if I can’t connect with those I want to save? Or those who appeal to the beast inside of me, making me draw my sword upon them? I refuse to try and answer that now, because I might just break the wide-eyed idealist before me.

But I do agree with one thing Lemon says. “It is pretty amazing.” As I say that, I notice we’ve arrived back at the canal, with Tohro and Rosemary waiting for us alongside Tealeaves and Salad Elegance.

“Hey, you!” says Tohro. “I was wondering where you were. I didn’t want you to be caught in the storm.”

I cock my brow, then look up to the sky. How I haven’t taken notice of the dark clouds building overhead, I can’t imagine. “Goodness, where did that come from?” I ask rhetorically. “But how do you know it’s a—” A piece of parchment falls across my vision. I lift it off my face and take a look, seeing its a very professionally written letter.

I discard the letter. “Oh, well then. Good show, Platinum.”

Salad Elegance’s expression holds nothing but dread as the snow begins its descent around us. “Not an enthusiast of the cold?” I ask.

She wipes a few fallen flakes off her head bandage. “No, snow is fine. I like snow. I’m just… not overly fond of going inside, to say the least.”

Tealeaves and Lemon carry the exact same expression as her. Something awaits them, something very dreadful, and very soon. I can believe it’s something that’s tormented them for a long time, if they can revert to such a sorrowful state on a moment’s notice. It’s just as how thoughts of Master used to force me into a pothole of sorrow and rage, no matter how I was before.

“Why would you…” Before I can finish my question, I see Rosemary gritting her teeth, wide-eyed and crossing her throat with a hoof. I can assume she doesn’t want me to ask about the obvious. But I can see curiosity coming from Tohro as well. If someone is going to find out what’s going on, it’s me. There’s something strange about these children. I reaffirm my question with a heavier voice. “What’s waiting for you back at the orphanage?”

Tealeaves cackles weakly. “Ah, uh… Nopony said anything about the orphanage.”

I approach her and say, “I can draw the connection. I’m no fool.” I look back to Salad Elegance and Lemon. “You dread going inside. Lemon implied that the children of the orphanage have lost hope. Also, Salad Elegance,” I point to the purple filly, “what on Epona’s land is underneath that bandage?”

“Nothing!” she squeaks, almost too quick to answer.

“Caro, don’t overstep your boundaries,” advises Rosemary. She’s cross with me, but I don’t care. I’m chipping away at this mystery.

Lemon steps close to Salad Elegance. He’s stern, yet sympathetic as he speaks to her. “I think it’s about time things changed.” He reaches for her forehead, and while the filly is cowering, she doesn’t resist as Lemon’s hoof slips under her bandage and begins to tear it off.

Just underneath the white cloth is a stump. The stump of a unicorn horn.

“What the…” I hear Tohro mutter.

“Imbeciles!” snaps a ragged, scratchy voice.

In less than a second, Lemon and Tealeaves stiffen up and stand at attention, Salad Elegance doing the same as she reapplies the bandage.

My mind is racing. What sort of monster would cut off the one thing that makes a unicorn who they are? As it turns out, the unicorn I’m sure is responsible has revealed herself, stepping up to the three children as they stand in a horizontal line.

She has a grim mien to her, despite a mostly saccharine appearance; her white mane is tied into a bun and she wears a peasant’s gown over a pink coat, but it’s her face that strikes me as suspicious. It’s as if her wrinkles keep her in a perpetual angered frown.

“Imbeciles, all of you!” she repeats. “You were to be back a half-hour ago, and where have you been?”

“Just playing tag, Madam Sunflower…” Tealeaves whispers, meek and cowering.

The old mare zeroes in on Tealeaves with a birds-eye glare, making the filly squeal like she were just stabbed in the heart. “Don’t snip at me!” yells this Sunflower mare. “You’re all ungrateful rats. I how many times have I told you to appreciate the kindness of my heart?”

It’s beyond me what sort of child would take this sort of trash, even if it’s trash from an adult. I recall when a drunken customer of Master’s was berating me for a dent in his blade. I kicked him out and he never came around again, and Master was grateful for that. I didn’t have to take such idiocy, and neither do these children.

“Two things are going to happen, lady,” I say, stepping between her and the children. “You are going to step away from these kids. Then you will kindly jump off a cliff and save me the trouble.”

I hear Tohro hissing behind me, and I elect to ignore it.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asks.

She asked, so I’ll answer. “Well, I—”

She grunts at me and interrupts. “It’s my job to look after this sniveling rats. I don’t spend my valuable time cooking and cleaning for them just to get chewed out by a ragged weed like you.”

“...You never cook for us…” whispers Lemon.

“What was that?!” Sunflower snaps, turning away from me. Lemon shuts up right away, quickly bringing his own hoof to his neck and wincing. Sunflower looks back at me. “I’ve owned my orphanage for twenty years.”

Just as she says that, I take a look in the direction from which she arrived. I can see, amongst the mossy cottages and shops, a much more downtrodden two-story house. Vegetation has nearly consumed its front side. “Tell me, is that it over there?” I ask, nodding to the wretched place.

“Yes, indeed.”

Truly pathetic. This hag is sinking by the minute, and I have a feeling if she sinks any deeper, she won’t be climbing out. “And you’re doing a bang-up job,” I say, taking a violent grin. “Do all the children sleep in one room?

Lemon taps me on the leg again. I look down and see he’s between scared and angry. I know that face. “There’s not even enough beds for us. The girls and I take turns sleeping on the floor.”

Sunflower points accusingly at the colt. “Get back in line.”

“Don’t talk to him like that.” I step in front of Lemon. I’m larger than her, so she can do nothing to him. “Horrid living conditions and an abusive caretaker? And here I was, thinking this town was alright. Oh, well. I suppose there’s always one blemish that needs cleaning.”

“Preach, Dragonborn!” pipes Lemon.

That makes Sunflower’s eye twitch. “This scoundrel is none of your concern, rat! I said get back in line.”

He begins to turn around, much to Salad Elegance and Tealeaves’ relief, but I feel a new sort of respect for this child when he faces Sunflower again, not carrying any fear this time. He stares her down. “No.”

Sunflower’s breath becomes irregular. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” says Lemon. My respect for him climbs as he takes on the pose of a soldier at war. “I am sick and tired of this. You hurt everypony in the orphanage. You threaten any friends I make outside, hell, you only allow us outside once a week!”

“That is a blessing!” Sunflower yells, doing nothing to make Lemon falter.

“Once a week, for five minutes! This is not living, Sunflower!”

The hag stomps. “You will call me Madam Sunflower the Kind!”

Lemon bares his teeth, then, in the boldest move I’ve ever seen from a child, spits. It lands dead between Sunflower’s eyes. “How about Madam Invective Minge?!”

All of Baltimare may as well have heard that, for everything goes quiet. The passing civilians, the rolling carts... even the soft laps of the canal against the moldy stone architecture have gone silent. All that’s left to me are me, six other ponies, and five wide open mouths belonging to Tohro, Rosemary, Salad Elegance, Tealeaves and Sunflower. Lemon is grinning. So am I.

However, we both stop grinning when Sunflower ignites her horn. Lemon cries out and squints as he’s lifted up by the tail, carried alongside the old mare. She glares at Salad Elegance and Tealeaves. “Orphanage. Now.” She departs with the two children trudging along after her.

Tealeaves lingers behind, stepping up to me. She clears her throat, reaches up to her collar and pulls it down ever so slightly. Her entire neck is purple with nicks and bruises. Compared to the missing horn upon Salad Elegance, this is minimal, but it certainly helps solidify my decision.

She quickly hides it away. “Save us,” she says. She gallops to catch up to Salad Elegance, but why she would ever hurry is beyond me.

And just like that, the world’s sound comes back. I feel sick to my stomach, just from considering the idea that such misfortune exists. I grimace, bringing a hoof to my eyes. I may be inducing my own headache from thinking about those children, stuck in misery and torture until somepony finds the kindness in their heart to take them away from such a life… But what kindness is there amongst these peasants if they such hags as Sunflower are allowed to even exist?!

“What the hell was that all about?” Tohro asks.

Rosemary groans and begins to remove herself from the vicinity. “That was innocence lost, laddies.”

Tohro goes after her. “How do you mean?”

I follow him and her down the steps leading to the surface of the canal. Rosemary lays down at the water’s edge and wets her hoof, tracing indiscriminate shapes. “I could end crime in every district but I’ve never found a way to cope with Sunflower’s sadism.”

Tohro growls. “That bitch has a problem. She needs to be sent away.” His eyes widen. “Wait, why can’t you just, well, do that?”

“Huh?” Rosemary tilts her head.

“Why the hell can’t you just walk up to her and arrest her?”

“I’m no soldier, honey. I’m a vigilante. I have no say in who gets arrested.” Rosemary stands up and kicks out a hind leg. “I just give those who break the law a little kiss from Sir Kicks McGee. The soldiers are lazy asses, as I told you.”

There was proof to that just a few moments ago. Three guards must have passed by us with nary a qualm with what was going on. I fear for what this place was like before Rosemary came along.

Tohro’s angered tick breaks any attempt at staying calm. “Even a lazy soldier must take ire with what Sunflower has done! If these children don’t get adopted, then—”

“Ha!” Rosemary puts on a false smile. “You honestly think the bitch would ever let any of those kids out of her grip? She never lets anypony adopt them.”

“How do you kn—”

She interrupts Tohro. “I tried.”

So there goes part of one plan I was cooking; I’ve gathered a decent amount of bits, so I warrant I could adopt a child or two and extract them from Sunflower’s grasp. That’s fallen through. But there’s one last solution to this matter that I feel I’m meant for. It’s amazing how often I am in the right place at the right time for such things.

“You didn’t try hard enough,” I state bluntly, ascending the steps back onto the streets.

"Caro, what are you..." Tohro trails off.

Rosemary has exhausted all of her options, but she’s not me. I can do so much more than she could ever manage.

There’s something else I took notice of back there, which only serves to fuel the fires of persecution; Sunflower’s aura is red.

­­I will not tell a lie or beat around any sort of bush. I know I killed Pyro and Ember, and I killed them brutally, intimately and unforgivably. But that is only the fate they chose when they raped Jade. Blackwing or no, Jade is a pony who did nothing to deserve that. Those mongrels did something so sick and depraved that they deserved an unforgivable death; because they did something unforgivable. They needed to die.

Then I killed Preacher. I did him a favor. He was old, senile and long detached from any rhyme or reason. Besides, he was a potential disruption to an operation that meant the difference between victory and defeat for Trottingham. Mjolnir tipped the scales in the Empire’s favor.

Didn’t it?

Yes, it did. And Preacher put our reclaiming of Mjolnir at risk. Nopony misses him. He’s better off dead.

That’s why I’m here, after all. If I can protect the innocent by taking away the evil, then what reason do I have to stop? I’m not stopping. I’m never stopping until Equestria is the kingdom it was meant to be, free of corruption and strife.

I follow Sunflower’s red aura with my eyes as it trots back and forth within the decrepit orphanage. Out of the corner of my eye, I see peeling letters above the door spell Sunflower Fields Orphanage – For those who need kindness. That’s amusing enough to quell my beating heart, and it’s beating fast.

I’m listening for a time to strike, but one has yet to arise. All I really hear are isolated, inaudible conversations amongst the children inside. By the way their colorless auras are arranged, I’d warrant their one room is on the first floor, with Sunflower’s room just up a flight of stairs. Of course she wants to be above them all.

The most I can hear from the orphans is the mention of Lemon and his bold stance against Sunflower, but the details are lost to me. Either way, his act hasn’t gone unnoticed. I smirk for his success.

But the consequences of his success are made apparent when I hear Lemon screaming. The walls do nothing to hide that. But the lack of windows hides whatever is the cause of such a scream.

That’s when I hear Sunflower yelling over Lemon’s cries. “Screaming only makes it worse, child! It does nothing; just stifle yourself and let it happen.”

Lemon stops screaming, but he certainly doesn’t shut up. “The Dragonborn will be here any second! You’ll see! Then he’ll—”

His voice becomes muffled, presumably by Sunflower’s hoof. “I said silence! Step into my room. Now.”

Her room. Away from the other children? What is she planning? I can’t wait any longer not knowing. I must halt this before anything more can befall these orphans, particularly Lemon.

But a harsh click when I push on the door puts a damper on things. Of course Sunflower thought to lock the door. And due to the children’s squabbling, they can’t hear me. I’m tempted to make use of Unrelenting Force to destroy this door. But that would be excessive. I settle for bracing my shoulder and broadsiding it. The lock breaks and the door quietly swings open.

The interior is mostly wooden and mossy, like the outside. There’s nothing child friendly about this orphanage. I look left, just past the one dinner table, to see the cramped child quarters. Bunk beds line the walls, laden with rough and torn blankets. My attention is brought to the children, who, proof to Lemon’s words, outnumber the beds. Sunflower doesn’t even seem to have the dignity to even try.

One of the kids stands up from the top bunk, flapping his wings excitedly as he shows me a grin of many missing teeth. “Are you the—”

“Dragonborn!” Salad Elegance gallops right up to me. “You shouldn’t be here! You’ll just make her madder!”

Another ear-piercing scream from Lemon makes her urging a moot point. Looking at her forehead, no longer covered by a bandage, I see her broken horn. “Did you scream when she took that away?”

She squeaks and covers the stump with a single hoof. “Y-yes…”

“She screamed for hours,” says another orphan, a boy. “She only stopped because—“

I complete his sentence. “The hag threatened to do worse if she didn’t?”

All of the children nod.

That’s it. I have neither patience nor mercy left in reserve. I wave to the children. “Stay in your room, young ones. And cover your ears. This will be your last day in hell.”

They all seem oblivious to what I mean, except for Tealeaves, who lets a small smile cross her muzzle. I’m sure the rest of the children will be smiling along with her in due time.

I watch Salad Elegance close the door to the cramped bedroom, and then ascend the steps upstairs quietly. I’m no connoisseur of stealth, but at the very least I can keep Sunflower unaware of my presence. It’s better that way; I don’t wish for Lemon to be hurt any worse than he could be. Whatever wounds he endures, I will be to blame, but at least I can repent through avenging those wounds.

There is only one door at the top of the stairs and it’s just the one I need. I can hear the intense argument inside as I prepare to break down the door.

I hear Lemon growling like a wolf protecting its property. “I’m not taking it back—“

“You’d better,” says Sunflower, but she doesn’t shut him up.

“—because I am right! You’re the scum of Equestria, bitch! You’ve made my life a living hell to please your fucked up sadism!” I then hear him grunt. Sunflower is forcing him to do something. There’s a thud of metal. Screaming and metal don’t tend to make for a happy situation. “Yeah, go ahead, do it. Fucking do it, bitch, I dare you!”

This child is worth ten of most soldiers I’ve seen. Despite his occasional screams before, he’s strong under pressure. A diamond, literally in the rough.

I slam my entire side against the door but this lock is sturdy. It figures; Sunflower cares more for her own safety than the children’s.

I hear Sunflower again. “Say you’re sorry, and I only break one.”

…Oh, shit.

To hell with subtlety. I crouch, take a deep breath and shout, “FUS RO DAH!”

The door is torn from its hinges, leaving nothing but splinters and a shattered deadbolt. The door splits in half upon collision with the wall and ends up breaking several, hopefully valuable, conveniently placed pots and cups littered along the dresser.

I step into the room and immediately lock my sight on Sunflower and Lemon, and if I weren’t in a state of rage and adrenaline, I’d gape at the setup I see here. Lemon’s hind legs are tethered by a rough rope to an anvil, the sort I’d see in a forge. His left wing is laid across the anvil, forced flat by Sunflower’s hoof, and in her magical grip is a hammer.

I cast out my hoof. “I advise you to drop that now.”

She looks up at me, then to the remains of her door, then at Lemon’s wing, then back to me. I see her smile for the first time, and it’s not a smile I want to see. “No.”

She brings the hammer down hard, and I hear an unmistakable crack. Lemon screams, louder than ever before, making me cringe even more than I already am. I was too late. I stood there like a bloody moron, like the soldiers that run this town, and let that hag break his wing.

But I’m still here, and at the very least I can still do something to save the other wing. As Sunflower keeps that gross smile on her face, I begin to approach her. “I advise that you stay where you are,” she says. “Unless you wish to be responsible for the other wing.”

Lemon, shivering from the pain with his shattered wing drenched in blood, remains defiant as ever, grinding his teeth together and snarling at the hag despite the tears drenching his face. He looks at me, longingly and desperately.

“You should have minded your own business, mongrel,” says Sunflower.

My hoof is on my new sword. I’m ready to put it to use, but swinging it about like a maniac would only put poor Lemon in even more misery. But obviously, that’s not my only option.

“SU MAH!”

Lemon, as well as the hammer used to break him, elevate out of Sunflower’s reach, but the rope still holds his leg fast to the anvil. I reach for my sword, remove it from its sheath and give it a spinning toss. It slices clean through the rope and clatters to the floor. I can retrieve it later.

I will Lemon and the hammer to me. A few droplets of blood also follow in the elevation. Despite the horror show I just witnessed, and of which he was part of, the child smiles, knowing he has a rescuer in me.

“Oblaan.” The levitation ends, and the hammer falls out of Sunflower’s reach. I reach out to Lemon and pull him in for a guardian’s embrace, paying no mind to the blood staining my coat. Of course, I take care not to touch the wing. “It’s going to be okay now.”

“I know…” he whispers, voice tingling with pain. "I'd rather be free with a broken wing than here with both..."

“I recommend you go downstairs for a moment.” I release him, stepping around him as he hobbles out of the room through the splintered entrance.

Sunflower, well in shock over what just happened, has only just snapped out of her entrancement. She’s the one gritting her teeth now. She scuffs at the floor. “Asinine… What sort of sorcery was that?!”

I shrug, giving her a devil-may-care smirk.

“You’ll regret this!” She charges at me.

Let us recount who is asinine here; I have the powers of a race of beasts that are second to gods. I’m able to manipulate the world in ways even most unicorns cannot. I can make objects fly with my voice. I can cast fire from my lips. I can shatter objects with three words. But, most importantly of all at this moment, I’m the one who holds the hammer.

I lift it off the floor and bring the head up into Sunflower’s jaw just as she makes a dive for me. With a grunt, she goes airborne. Well, it seems I don’t need my voice to make my enemies fly. But she ends up with a headache either way. She slowly removes her head from the side of the anvil, holding her jaw. I can hear her breathing becoming jagged and irregular. I think I broke it.

Not good enough.

After dropping the hammer, I slowly walk up to the now weak and cowering old crone and strike her in the face again, making her whinge and caress her face more. Like any coward, she leans over and tries to hide her face from me. With her back exposed, I see another window of opportunity. Oh, with her not even bothering to put up a fight, the possibilities for justice are just endless. I lick my lips.

I seize hold of Sunflower by her collar, making her gag, then toss her against the wall. I catch a glimpse of her face. Where the hammer hit her, I see a large blotch of blue, and as she heaves, I see red draining from her mouth. There’s another bruise on her cheek, where she collided with the wall.

My hoof, tense and itching for a good punch, rises into the air.

I throw the first punch, right between her eyes. She squints and squeals, then looks back up at me with wide, watering, bloodshot whites. I click my tongue at such a sordid plea for mercy. After all, how often did those children plea for mercy, only to be met with more abuse from this sadistic gorgon?

I give her another punch, this one upside her head, only making more blood spurt from her mouth. She gargles, trying to say something, but her broken jaw and mouthful of her own fluids keeps her silent.

A third punch, which goes straight into her muzzle. It’s safe to say I’ve broken at least half of her face at this point. So long as she can’t talk, I’m satisfied. Ooh, my. She’s draining blood from her nostrils now. Where else might she bleed from?

It’s time for a change of position. I grab her busted head and throw her to the ground, and the rest of her body goes with her. She must be in absolutely horrible pain to not make any attempt to escape. I deliberately step on her chest, making her gasp under my weight, as I walk over her.

Standing on my hind legs, I bring both of my forelegs over my head. I cast them down on her. The sensation with they both collide with the entirety of her face can only be described as an explosion of bone and and blood. I blush with satisfaction as I alternate between hooves, sending them into her moist, bleeding, spongy head in an alternating pattern. It’s like making beautiful music.

I don’t know how long I keep that rhythm up, but by the time my legs tire out, Sunflower is little more than a body attached to a veiny pulp.

I hear a gasp, but it’s definitely not from the corpse that lays before me. I look up and see, standing in the remains of the doorway, is a mare I haven’t met yet. She’s older than most of the children, but the blemishes visible beneath her loose cowl make it known that she lives in this orphanage. And she may have just witnessed me murder the caretaker.

So it’s sensical, albeit disturbing, that she looks so content.

“Um, hello.” I politely wave to her as I approach. I offer my hoof, but then retract it quickly when I notice it’s covered in blood, amongst other nasty things. “I’m Caro.”

The mare bows, in an odd gesture I’d expect to be saved for higher-ups. “Pleasure. I’m Dew. I’m the eldest child at this orphanage.”

Beyond introductions, I’ve got nothing to say to this mare. Shuffling my hooves like a socially awkward child in a schoolhouse, I look back to Sunflower’s carcass, then back to the dissonantly calm Dew. “So, um…” I run my hoof along the back of my head. “What just happened?”

Dew smiles, then casually trots across the room to what I assume is… was, Sunflower’s four-poster bed. She bites the sheet and pulls it off, then brings it to the corpse. She lays the blanket over what’s left of Sunflower and goes to work wrapping her up. “Well, as far as I’m aware, and as far as anypony else is concerned, Sunflower has departed the orphanage for an extended vacation in Saddle Arabia. Before she took her leave, she approached me, uh, hold on…”

She steps over to the dresser and opens a few drawers until she finds what she’s looking for; quills, an ink pot, and paper. She sets them down, takes the quill in her hoof and begins writing as she continues her alibi. “And she gave me this formally written deed that gives me full responsibility over the orphanage and its occupants until she returns.”

“Which… she doesn’t?” I ask.

Dew pauses her writing, nods to the blankets, then puts on a forced frown, swooning dramatically. “Oh, dearest me! What misfortune has fallen upon on this day it was made known that Mistress Sunflower the Kind perished of pox in Saddle Arabia?” She smirks. “I daresay I have a few months to perfect that performance for anypony who starts asking questions.” She resumes writing, taking care to make the ‘deed’ look as official as possible. “As for you, I recommend leaving as quietly as possible as to not stir up a ruckus. Or frackas. Take your pick.”

I’m at a loss for words again. I don’t know why I even bother searching for something to say. I simply return that earlier bow. This mare has made such filthy matters so much cleaner. It is known to many how much I appreciate cleanliness.

As I turn to leave this orphanage far behind, Dew speaks up once again. “Wait.” I turn around to hear what for, only to have my eyes widen as she approaches, leans in and kisses my cheek. She quickly relinquishes, red in the face as she says, “Thank you.”

I hastily, yet quietly, descend the stairs, determined to find some means of washing my face.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

The most beautiful sounds in the world, in my honest opinion, are the wind, birds chirping, gentle laps of the ocean against rock, a lover’s cry of pleasure, and the sweet, sweet jingle of gold coins in a tightly bound pouch. That last one brings an incredibly immature smile to my face, especially as Altair drops said pouch into my bag. This is my recompense for the caravan job with Xephyr. I wish Altair could afford to meet elsewhere, though; the sewers’ gritty scent, mixed with the moist air from the canals, does not bode well for my nostrils.

“Five hundred and fifty five bits as promised, Tohro Blackwing,” he says. What I appreciate about Altair is that he’s never aloof about whether or not he shows pride in his lesser thieves. With a wink of his tattooed eye, he continues. “I must also congratulate you on your ingenuity on retaking the stock, as well as your kindness towards the owner. Not many are so eager to put their prejudices aside.”

“Don’t worry yourself, sir. I always put my past behind me when necessary. If I weren’t good at that, I wouldn’t be wearing the royal colors.” I flaunt the purple and gold accents of my overcoat. When Altair raises a brow at my lack of subtlety, I stop and say, “Uh, I had to report to camp last night and they insisted I change out of the guild’s, uh…” How do I put this without insulting him? “...less formal attire?”

Thankfully, he nods in agreement. “Fair enough.” He tilts his head as if a stray thought has come to light. “So, there haven’t been any qualms in the Legion about your working for me? I suspected that there’d be at least some sign of trouble by now.”

“I suspected the very same thing,” I say. I chuckle at the thought of Queen Platinum calming a few panicky soldiers. “I suspect Her Majesty is doing her finest to hush up anypony who takes ire with my many jobs. She finds me that valuable, evidently.”

Altair nods again, looking fit to take his leave. “Do leave politics out of this, disciple. The rest of this crew has long since abandoned the law. Nevertheless, well done. If you’re fit for another job, do come visit.” He throws on his white hood and sprints into the sewers on all fours. Credit to him, he’s very fast, even without wings.

I retrieve the pouch of gold and give it a triumphant toss. I start on back to where I left Rosemary, right outside The Broken Saddle. We had agreed to wait for Caro there after he went and slipped away from us.

I frown at the last thing he said to be. Those words do not allow for many happy conclusions. What concerns me more is that, as far as everypony else is concerned, the actions I suspect him of are entirely justified.

Nevertheless, someone here has to keep a smile up, and if I can’t be the one to do it, then Rosemary most certainly has to. That girl could smile in the face of a dragon, I swear.

...And yet, approaching the entrance of the bar, it concerns me beyond reasoning that she’s not there. Instead, I see Whiskey, who is less than pleased to see me.

“What’s the matter, doll?” I ask her.

She gestures to the inside of the bar with her head. “Rosemary’s room. And it’s not a pretty picture."

My day seems cloudier than how it began. Caro has killed something other than my smile.

There are two faces in this room. One is above us, elevated on a line of barrels, determined to avoid confrontation. I can respect her for that, as this isn’t her area to get involved.

The other face is the one I’ve dreaded seeing for some time. This is the moment he’s probably been expecting, ever since he committed that first unforgivable act. However, it is regrettably possible that he wasn’t expecting this either, that he honestly believes he has the moral high ground here. Morality may be subjective, but it is still possible to be just plain drop dead wrong. Wrong is all Caro is right now.

“Caro…” I say his name calmly; I don’t call him ‘mate’ because he doesn’t deserve that. Not at the moment, at least. I pause, take a deep breath and look at him with grim resolve, trying to keep eye contact while his blood speckled coat. I’m amazed he was able to get back here inconspicuously with all that red on his turquoise fur.

Right, eyes. He deliberately tries to avoid me looking into them, as I’d expect, but I hold my gaze well enough.

“Did you kill Sunflower?” I ask.

It’s an obvious question with a doubly obvious answer, but what else am I supposed to ask? If I’m to get through to my friend, I can’t just outright accuse him. I know him. This is exactly why Rosemary is standing aside; she doesn’t know enough to get involved. Grace her for understanding.

But Caro, well, he just doesn’t understand at all, smiling smugly and saying, “So what if I did?”

I wipe that smile off his face with a calm yet harsh belt to his jaw. Caught unawares, he falls to the ground clumsily, bewildered. He clutches his snout as he attempts to get back up, but I cast my hoof out. “Stay.”

I get the feeling that if anypony else were to tell him that, they’d be broken in a corner by now. But Caro listens to me.

“I held my tongue to the best of my ability. I thought for a moment that maybe the problem would fix itself. I have enough to worry about, after all. I figured, perhaps my best friend would turn his head towards the possibility that maybe there are alternatives to walking up to somepony and murdering them on the spot.”

“You weren’t there,” Caro growls. His hooves are shaking. “She destroyed Lemon’s wing. That child will likely never fly again because of her. But she did it so calmly, so… routinely. It’s obvious that she had no remorse for putting those kids through years of torture, knowing very well that they had nowhere else to go.” His eyes narrow as he fumes at me. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing! I had to kill her!”

“No, you didn’t.” I trot back and forth, but I stay close to him, just in case he gets the idea to bolt on me. “You had to do something. I get it, Caro. You want to be a hero, somepony who just wants to do good by Equestria, helping the innocent, protecting the weak. We all know that song and dance. I bet at one point in everypony’s lives, there’s a want to be a knight in shining armor. You don’t look so much like one right now, though. You stink of blood, and I don’t hear anypony praising your name.”

“The children praised me…” he mutters.

“Because they are children. I doubt most of them even have a sense of morality. They are the few who believe in knights in shining armor these days, and you set an awful example of one. What if those children become inspired by your antics, thinking that the only option out of a conflict is to kill?”

Caro is about to say something to defend himself, but I cut him off before he has a chance.

“You treat every problem like a dragon, like you can just slay it and it’ll fade away. You think yourself a hero for that, but I’ll tell you this much…”

Caro’s eyes flash with gold for an instant. “Don’t.”

“I will.” I’m willing to push this confrontation to its limits if I have to. I need to get through to Caro, even if it means pushing boundaries. “You keep killing those you deem unworthy without batting an eye.”

“Tohro, there is a line—”

“You’re no better than a dragon.”

I know I’m going to regret saying that, but there are words in this world that need to be said, even if nopony wants to hear them.

Caro exhales. “You crossed it.”

I close my eyes, awaiting the oncoming storm. My hooves leave the ground as I feel Caro slam his forelegs into my chest, holding them against me as he throttles me against a barrel. All I can see in my vision when I open my eyes is a face of pure rage, eyes filled with gold aura and red veins.

“You do not put me in the same league as those monsters.” His voice is unusually serene, despite his livid look. “They took my life away from me. Because of them, I will never be the colt I used to be. All they ever do is kill.”

Thankfully, he’s merciful enough to let me talk. “And what have you done?”

“I—”

“Since when have you ever seen a dragon show mercy? Since when have you ever shown your enemies any mercy? Perhaps the name of Dragonborn comes at a pri—” The pressure on my chest intensifies, leaving me gasping.

“You know nothing of it!” I can see the faintest bit of tears forming in Caro’s ducts. Perhaps I’ve struck a nerve far worse that I realized. “I don’t care what you say. What I did was necessary!”

Those birthing tears give me an idea. If he won’t listen to logic, then maybe he’ll listen to his heart. “And… and you can keep doing what is… what you think is necessary, but I will have no part in it!”

I feel his hold weaken. “What?”

“Caro, I swear this to you.” I manage to bring my forelegs forward and rest my hooves on Caro’s cheeks. But this is not a gesture of affection. “I swear, the next time you strike somepony down in cold blood, I will not be there when you turn around. I’ll be gone. I’ll fly to the other end of Equestria if I have to. We will never be friends again.”

Caro drops me.

He steps away, then falls onto his haunches. He wipes his eyes clean of any moisture, then relaxes. “I’m listening…” he mutters.

“Let me paint the picture from an outside perspective, okay?” I trace my hoof on the ground to mimic my words. “Stallion walks into the Orphanage of Tartarus.” My hoof elevates. “He goes upstairs and brutally murders somepony.” I punch my other hoof. “Stallion leaves. Does that sound like a hero to you?”

Caro remains silent. That is a better alternative to defending a shabby excuse for murder.

“If you ask me, you pick the most immature solutions over more valiant options. What about Jade? She’s still in an Imperial prison somewhere.” I put on a sarcastic tone. “I’m sure she’s ecstatic about her avenged innocence. I’m quite certain that you made that rape un-happen simply because you killed her attackers.”

“You held me back from helping her...”

He has me there, but at least I have reasoning to back it up. “You weren’t strong enough. If we ever had the opportunity to save her after you awakened as Dragonborn, you bet I would have taken it! And if we do have the chance I’m sure we can do it in a second. But you just decided to take the coward’s path and snuff out any loose ends. Nothing was gained by you killing Pyro and Ember, and you know it.”

Caro grimaces. He still carries defensive determination in his scowl, but I can also tell he’s letting regret shine through. Just a little bit. “I don’t think I understand, but… I know what you mean. I suppose… I could have spoken to the queen about it… She could have had those bastards court martialed. Jade might have gotten off.”

This is progress. Progress is good. I nod with a smile on my face. “There you go.” I drop the smile, choosing to focus on another matter. “And what of Preacher? Did he have to die?”

Caro leans his head against the wall. “No. That’s an obvious one. It would have been better, if not a bit more annoying, if I had just told him off...”

“See, Caro. It’s not so hard. There is always an alternative. I know it may not satisfy that part of you that desires violence, but you just can’t make Equestria a better place if all you contribute is more violence and murder.”

“There will be times when we will have to fight and kill,” he says.

I nod. “I’m well aware of that,” I say, approaching Caro cautiously. “And I know that this case was a far more complicated matter than just somepony doing wrong. There were little other options. But if I were in your place, I would have probably just knocked Sunflower out. Then I’d have stolen all of the children away to where she’d never be able to find them. That does count as kidnapping, but it’s a far better law to break if it means nopony gets hurt in the process.”

Caro actually smiles, and this is a warmer one, not at all sinister like before. I prefer him like this. I offer him my hoof, but he doesn’t take it. He tilts his head down. “I just don’t understand...”

In all of the drama of the moment, watching Caro fall from his pedestal of what he considers righteous, I’d nearly forgotten Rosemary is watching. I’m only reminded of her presence when she sees fit to hop down from her vantage point. Her chipper demeanor is a far cry from mine, and doubly so for Caro. “Right, are we all butterflies and rainbows?” she asks.

Leave it to her to break the tension. I point to the closed door of the stockroom, which she takes as a sign to leave us. She does so in silence.

We are more or less done. I don’t think I could drag Caro any lower if I wanted to. I’ve seen him sad and distraught before, but never before have I seen him look just pathetic. His back is hunched over and his unkempt mop of a mane is hanging down, nearly touching the ground. “I’m sorry…” he mutters. He brushes his mane aside, leaving specks of blood behind. “I don’t know how to tame this… Whenever I see the worst of ponykind before me, all I can think about is…”

He used to be afraid of this inner beast, back when our adventure first began. It seems he’s come to relish it. And now he fears it once again. Or perhaps he had temporarily forgotten to fear it.

“If I can’t destroy the evil in this world, what can I do?” he asks, voice quivering with desperation.

With Rosemary gone, I feel a bit more comfortable doing this; I kneel down to Caro’s level, reach my forelegs around him and hold him close.

I’m not entirely sure how long I hold him before he finally raises a quivering leg to return the embrace. Even after that, time stands still for us only.

Night has fallen on Baltimare, yet that doesn’t make any sort of excuse for all noise to cease in the city. As expected, the on duty soldiers are still making their rounds, calling out orders. I can’t quite hear them through the architecture of the inn. It’s all just shouting, as far as I’m concerned.

And I shouldn’t be concerned. As of the Dragonborn’s return, the Legion takes second priority. I’ll be prepared to answer the call to action should there be a battle to fight. In the meantime, Caro’s internal battle rages. I don’t know if my words will resonate. I doubt he’ll be so keen to turn over a new leaf. But at least he knows. And I know my ultimatum will be the strongest restraint on his inner sadist.

Rosemary, having bought the next room over, is able to stretch her legs, free of all this drama. That is just as much for her as it is for me and Caro. I don’t want him to be around anypony else for the time being. And, of course, he needs to rest easy. Just one day and he’s already been emotionally exhausted.

Yawning loudly, I figure I’ve had enough thinking for today. Tomorrow lays ahead, and there is a much simpler task at hoof. We’re just going to visit Shae. Nothing matters other than that. Perhaps, if she’s had any luck in bringing Celina back to happiness, that will help ease my mind on this matter.

As I nestle beneath the unusually comfortable covers, I look over to Caro, who lays on his side, away from me. Of course, he didn’t want to look at me and face my disapproval. He’s fast asleep, as he has been for at least an hour. But something’s changed. He’s tense, breathing rapidly. He moans, but not in a pleasant way. He sounds anguished. He must be having a nightmare. I reach over to him and touch his shoulder, rocking him gently.

“Mate? Are you okay?”

He sits up, tossing the covers off of him. I can see his breath. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing whatever it was that bothered him in his sleep. “I was…” He turns around and beats his pillow back into shape. “Urgh… It was that dream again.”

“The filly in the moon?” I ask. “Does she want to see us yet?”

“Very soon…” he mutters. “I can tell…” He brings his eyes closed again.

That’s good. I do wish to meet this dream child he keeps bringing up. Things are coming up roses at this rate. First Shae, then the dream child… I hope she visits me tonight. I could use the dose of innocence.

I hear a light knocking on the door. Caro stirs, but I gesture for him to rest. I’m far from restful, anyway. I get up, trot to the door and open it.

I can’t even take in the mare who knocked before she falls to me and holds tight to my undergarments. Despite the darkness, I can see her fiery red mane. “Rosey?”

She’s shaking. Sobbing, I’d even warrant. I’m too caught off guard by this sudden shift of emotional atmosphere to comfort her. She doesn’t even give me the chance, anyway, pulling away and revealing what may have her so distraught. Of all things, it’s an envelope, already torn open (Might I add, very haphazardly), and a letter pinned to it by Rosemary’s grip.

I’m about to ask what’s gone wrong, but the contents of the envelope answer for me, and how I wish it weren’t so. Rosemary presents a bent pair of glasses. The lenses are scratched and smudged.

I hear a deep gasp from behind me. I turn around to see Caro, his eyes large as the moon outside, drag his hoof to his heart. “What happened?” he asks quietly. Never have I heard so much grief and anger at such a low volume. He stands, still on the bed, glaring at me and Rosemary with an intensity to rival the most fearsome beast. “What happened to her?!"

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

Dearest Dragonrein,

It is I, Queen Platinum’s solemn duty to inform you that Shae Sparkle has not been seen nor heard of for two weeks, and it is not out of the question to assume she may have been abducted...

The rest are garbled words and tear stains to me.