Continued from Part 2: https://pastebin.com/VMfxpVWm

"Windy. Can you tell us where Chrysocolla might be hiding? Where we might be able to find her, or anypony else who might do something like this again?"
> "I... I dunno much. I wasn't really... in, y'know? I never really got to talk to anypony else."
> Of course, they would have adapted the same compartmentalized-cell structure you'd ordered Sunburst to use.
> Whether they were even part of the same network or had just come to similar conclusions you don't know, but it was a good enough guess.
> "You have to have some idea about where Chrysocolla might be, though."
> "I..."
> Windy's head hangs dejectedly, mane falling around his neck.
> "I have to do this if I'm going to make up for what happened to Mocha..."
> Despite it not really being a question, you step close enough to lay a wing on his back; Windy's own feathers shuffle under your touch.
"Yes. You may not have done the worst of it, but you were still a part... and a large part of showing you are truly sorry for what happened is making sure that those who really are responsible face punishment."
> "Yeah."
"And remember what Anonymous said: If they show remorse, he'll consider improving their sentence as well. You aren't automatically condemning them; this is something they have a choice in."
> "Agreed. If they do - really do - I can... water down the descriptions of exactly what happened, make them sound less dangerous."
> And, implicitly, spare them from going to a place where their remaining lives would be measured in mere months and not years.
> Somehow Windy's head manages to droop even further, but he does talk:
> "You know the underground storm drain vault near 4th and H streets?"
"We can find it."
> "Those hatches are padlocked, though."
> Anonymous frowns, head tilted.
> "I don't see how she could have gotten in there, especially without being seen."
> "Back around the loading dock for the good near it, there's a storm drain with a loose cover. It's pretty hidden, and Chrysocolla is a smaller mare. She can get in there and squirm down the larger pipes into the main vault-"
> Here Windy Winters shudders, and your coat prickles in sympathy.
> An earth pony may have felt safe down there, but to a pegasus the thought of crawling through a tiny pipe you could get stuck in at any moment was tantamount to torture.
> "Anyway, she put most of our stuff in there after the guards raided everything. I bet she'll be there now."
> "Going to be fun for the guards, trying to dig an earth pony out of the ground..."
> Anonymous' mutter provokes another shake of Windy's head.
> "It's worse than you know. She broke through the walls a while back and into the utility vault next to that for more room."
> Groaning, your owner drives both his hands into his forhead and rubs them there; even you have to boggle at how busy they had been.
> "Great. So now we're going to have to check on all of the manholes and vaults here next."
> "...I'm sorry, sir..."
"I think right now we need to focus on wrapping this up as quickly as possible. Everything else follows."
> "Right. I'll get the guards moving on digging her out of that vault."
"Better get one to accompany Windy Winters as well."
> After a moment your unspoken implication of what might occur should somepony realize he had turned clicks with Anonymous.
> "...right, yeah."
> "Where am I going?"
"A cell, Windy Winters. You will be kept there until this is done with."
> Through the windows of his eyes you can clearly see the moment of panic that flashes through.
> It passes, though, replaced with a softer look of understanding.
> "...yes, Your Highness. Can I - get a few of my things?"
> Despite the question being directed at you, Anonymous nods.
> "We'll have a guard go to your quarters and pull everything out."
> "Thank you, Master. If at all possible, I'd like a pencil and paper. I... want to write a letter to Mocha Cream."
"I'm sure that can be arranged."
> "Cadance, if you have a moment we've got a few other things to discuss."
"I'll be right there."
> Anonymous steps back from the shimmer shield still half-blocking the doorway and closes the proper, wooden door - leaving you alone to brush your nose down Windy Winters' neck.
> He shivers gently, but bows his head.
> "Thank you, Your Highness. I... did wrong, but you listened to me."
"But all I did is listen; you proved yourself. This was the right thing to do, not for reward or pardon but because it is simply right. That Mocha Cream was willing to stand up for you shows how much this is worth."
> "I..."
> Fresh tears trace familiar paths down his cheeks.
> "I'm ready. Send the guard when you want, I won't fight. And... if I don't get the chance to speak to you again, Your Highness-"
> For the first time, the title is not laden with dread.
> "-you're a better leader then we said."
> ...
> Anonymous had grabbed an empty seat while he waited, the pony-sized accommodation leaving him with knees tucked up to his chest.
> Everypony else had evacuated the office - nopony knowing what was really going on, but all having enough sense to realize it was something they did not want to be part of.
> As you arrive, though, he doesn't rise - or, indeed, even bother looking in your direction.
"Something on your mind?"
> "A bit. But you've obviously got some thoughts too; you go first."
"Is it truly necessary to sell off Windy Winters? I understand he did a terrible thing, but he's not just turned himself in to protect his own skin. He's truly remorseful."
> Anonymous produces a sigh that suggests you aren't the only one to have considered that.
> "I know. And he's put a lot of trust into both of us too."
> The unspoken 'but' hovers leaden in the air between the two of you.
"You won't, though."
> "Recognizing what he did is as much as I can really do. There's still a fair part of me that wants to shackle him up and give him the same treatment I'll give those two assholes up in the cells already."
> Finally turning his head to look at you, Anonymous (mostly) manages to keep his face calm.
> "I'm not going to, though. But neither can I keep him there. There's a place for a pardon, but not now."
> Your own ears fall, but you nod - this was not a place to argue with him.
> "I'm sorry, Cadance, but there has to be a red line for this place overall - after which you're out."
"Very well, Master. At the very least, then, can I suggest lightening the sentence on Crescent Moon and the others with her? She gave us much the same information too, and without even a threat of punishment."
> "...yeah, I guess that could be done. And just because I'm not going to pardon Windy Winters doesn't mean I won't do anything for him: He won't be permanently marked like the others, and I know which market circles the better buyers circulate in. A couple tweaks to his file, play down what happened while emphasizing his clear remorse, and he'll be okay."
"Now, on your end."
> "On my end... well, for starters I ought to tell you - there's going to be a camera system put in. It'll hold a bit of video, so we won't have to go around digging for information in the future."
> Scratching his chin, Anonymous stares off into the distance for a moment.
> "Otherwise - when the sentencing is carried out, I'm going to speak too."
"I understand."
> In a way, you wish there was something else he could do as well.
> He was - trying.
> And even if he was still very much your enemy, in some ways you felt sorry he couldn't be more than a harbinger of punishment and distress.
> ...of course, there was the rec center opening soon.
> This weekend, even - though on second thought, perhaps you'd better tell Mayor Mare to hold it back a week.
> "Recognizing what he did is as much as I can really do. There's still a fair part of me that wants to shackle him up and give him the same treatment I'll give those two assholes up in the cells already."
> Finally turning his head to look at you, Anonymous (mostly) manages to keep his face calm.
> "I'm not going to, though. But neither can I keep him there. There's a place for a pardon, but not now."
> Your own ears fall, but you nod - this was not a place to argue with him.
> "I'm sorry, Cadance, but there has to be a red line for this place overall - after which you're out."
"Very well, Master. At the very least, then, can I suggest lightening the sentence on Crescent Moon and the others with her? She gave us much the same information too, and without even a threat of punishment."
> "...yeah, I guess that could be done. And just because I'm not going to pardon Windy Winters doesn't mean I won't do anything for him: He won't be permanently marked like the others, and I know which market circles the better buyers circulate in. A couple tweaks to his file, play down what happened while emphasizing his clear remorse, and he'll be okay."
"Now, on your end."
> "On my end... well, for starters I ought to tell you - there's going to be a camera system put in. It'll hold a bit of video, so we won't have to go around digging for information in the future."
> Scratching his chin, Anonymous stares off into the distance for a moment.
> "Otherwise - when the sentencing is carried out, I'm going to speak too."
"I understand."
> In a way, you wish there was something else he could do as well.
"The rec center will be opening soon as well. This weekend, even - though, hrm. Perhaps I should tell Mayor Mare to put that one off for a week... but if you wished to, you could speak then as well. There's no need for you to be only a harbinger of punishment and domination."
> Part of the offer was a purely mercenary, self-serving one.
> Rebellion would never cease, if ponies only ever saw him as appearing at times of woe.
> Yet part of it was honest; he was trying to be a better man than the one you'd stood in shackles before so many months before.
> Now he was promising to be more involved, and even if he was your captor perhaps you could open his eyes too.
> But Anonymous himself looks conflicted, and it's not hard to guess why:
> The rec building had always been a 'by the ponies, for the ponies' development... he knows he might not be welcome.
[Choice]
> "Alright, Cadance, I'll make a show. You're still headlining, though. That place is rightly your achievement, and you should be proud of that."
"Don't tell me. Tell everypony there when it happens."
> "Yeah, I guess I should."
> He scratches you around the ears.
> "I'm going to head back to the house, then."
"What for?"
> "Sunburst is going to be coming in for his first lesson with Flurry Heart, and I have to be there. Not only did I tell him I would be, but I could use something to get my mind off of this."
> A pang shoots through your heart at the thought of missing their first new lesson together - let alone the reunion.
> Anonymous notices it too, and cocks his head.
> "...I guess you'd like to be there too."
"Yes, but - I can manage. There will be other lessons, and much has to be done right now."
> "True enough."
> Reaching out, Anonymous strokes his fingers along your cheek one last time.
> "There'll find a chance. You deserve that much, with all you've been doing."

> The orange-coated stallion stirs nervously as you lead him through the manor.
> He was obviously quite apprehensive at being welcomes in, yet his curiosity was getting the better of him:
> Sunburst's head was kept on a swivel, peering at nearly everything that he passed - taking in the relative opulence of your home.
> Saddlebags, swollen with books and a few magical testing apparatus, turned his normally slender and lanky figure into a swollen one that almost seemed unlikely to fit through doorways.
"The rest of the staff have been using Megan's room while she is at school for Flurry's lessons, but you can take the living room if you need more space."
> "I, um. I don't think that'd be a good idea. Not at first. Foals can have surges of magic..."
"I know, but she's far past the age when that normally happens. Though, I suppose those aren't exactly known for alicorn fillies..."
> Head bobbing in agreement, Sunburst puts on a little speed to keep up with you.
> "Exactly my thinking, Master. And, um, she's not used her magic in so long I don't know what could happen. It might be weaker, or it might be like opening a dam."
"A fair point."
> "Outside of the house would be better, if anythi-"
"Out of the question, at least until we wrap up these rebels, deal an appropriate punishment, and see that things have calmed."
> Practically jumping back at your grim tone, Sunburst's head droops back down.
> "O-Of course, Master."
"...sorry. Those matters are still sore for me."
> Arriving at the door to Megan's room, you pause with a hand on the door handle.
"Ready for this?"
> "As ready as I'll be, I think."
> Grinning, you open the door and stroll in.
"Flurry Heart! There's someone here to see you, a new tutor to help you with your magic."
> The alicorn filly was in the midst of cleaning up toys left scattered from the previous night's play - you'd have to talk to Megan about cleaning them up at night instead, and at least helping herself.
> She is running to you the moment you call, though, and seats herself just in front of you.
> "Magic lessons, Master?"
"Mmm-hmm. Here..."
> You'd deliberately left the actual introduction to Sunburst, and now you step aside to let him enter.
> Barely has he made it two steps in before he freezes, eyes wide and a leg raised in shock.
> "F-Flurry... ittle gem..."
> Taking the initiative to march the rest of the way up to him, Flurry Heart knits her brows - an expression which makes you work hard to silence a delighted 'dawww' - and studies him hard.
> "...Flurry?"
> "I - I know you. I remember you. But.. I can't..."
> Sunburst's expression cracks from awe to despair, and even you feel a pang of sympathy.
> By everything Cadance had told you, they'd been only just short of family in Equestria.
> For Flurry to have forgotten him...
> "Little gem, it's - I'm - I'm Sunburst, Flurry..."
> Now it is her turn for the shock to hit - though only for a moment.
> In a second Flurry Heart has flown forward - literally flown, her massive wings spreading and beating once with enough force to send a few toys scattering on the floor - to plow into Sunburst.
> "Uncle Sunburst! It is you, it is-"
> Any further coherent words are preempted by Flurry wrapping both her wings around him - a veritable shell of pink feathers - and Sunburst lighting his horn to pin the filly to his chest and safely hold her there.
> A few tears run from his eyes as they reconnect, but his magic brushes them away before he lets her; you alone see them.
> "I missed you so much, little gem..."
> Flurry is still far to incoherent to properly respond, and it takes her a minute or two before she did.
> "...I heard you were here. Wanted to see you..."
> "Shh..."
> Sunburst brushes his muzzle through her mane.
> "I wanted to see you very badly too, Flurry Heart. But I have a lot of things to do here, and I wasn't allowed..."
> Screwing her face up into another frustrated expression, she shakes it angrily.
> "I wish you had!"
> "Yeah..."
> Laughing softly, Sunburst turns his head and releases the saddlebags to fall tot he floor with a solid thump.
> Unfortunately they took his near-omnipresent cloak with him, and Flurry Heart gasps softly as the scars of his flogging are revealed.
> "What - what're - why-?"
> Though you hadn't planned it, you couldn't have hoped for a better test of Sunburst's loyalty.
> And the results are as much as you could have expected:
> Head falling, Sunburst turns his head around to start at the faded welts.
> "Flurry, one of the reasons I couldn't come see you... I did something I shouldn't have. I was part of helping some ponies try to esca- try to run away from here."
> Her mouth opens in a little raw gasp.
> All that emerges, though, is a single-syllable word that nonetheless managed to carry all the weight needed:
> "Why?"
> "Because..."
> Abruptly he hesitates, and you realize he wasn't aware she knew Cadance had been punished too.
"Flurry, do you remember how your mother told you she'd been a bad pony?"
> "Yeah...?"
"Well, because she was mistaken, Sunburst thought she was right and he followed what he told her to do."
> Sunburst himself looks mildly shocked - not that you'd characterized him as merely following, but at your use of 'bad pony' in reference to Cadance.
> "Oh..."
> Looking between the two of you and face showing equal degrees of concentration and questioning, Flurry Heart finally asks:
> "But... why'd they go?"
"Well, when ponies get angry they can... do foolish things. Some of them were angry because they'd been hurt like you, but some of them were just... angry."
> "You're a good master, though..."
> Flurry turns to stare at you with an uncertain, wondering expression.
> "A-Are the angry ponies, like the ones who hurt Mocha Cream?"
"...yes, they're some of the same, I think."
> Immediately she rounds back again on Sunburst, who backpedals at the furious expression on her face.
> "Why'd you help them?! They're bad ponies! They hurt Mocha Cream!"
> "I-"
"Flurry Heart!"
> She leaps in surprise at the sharp bark.
> Immediately the filly is at your feet, in a deep both with wings spread.
> "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to..."
> Dropping to sit on the carpet, you reach out and pull her into your lap.
"No, Flurry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that."
> It takes a moment, but Flurry Cuddles into your lap - a protective measure, both seeming to seek shelter there and to show you she wasn't holding back from you.
> "Little gem, I - I was a bad pony, though. I did try and help some of them, and that was wrong. That's why I was punished... if I'd been able to see what they would do, I wouldn't have done any of that."
> "Oh..."
> Flurry manages to sound mildly apologetic, clearly having not thought about how Sunburst might have already been feeling.
"Now, Sunburst, both of you have a job to do here. Flurry, he's going to go through a few tests first to see how powerful your magic is right now, okay?"
> "Yes, Master."
"Then he'll start teaching you what's missing."
> ...
> In all truth, you didn't understand most of what Sunburst did.
> Unicorn magic is something you know how to leverage for a benefit, but the clear inner workings of it?
> Whatever it was, the stallion clearly understood what he was doing and quickly moved from test to test.
> When he was done, he asked for a few moments alone in your study to consult the books he'd brought.
> That left you waiting, though.
> As you paced about, however, you gradually became aware of other footsteps - or rather, footsteps and the tap-tapping of a cane - approaching.
"Hello, Mister Cooper."
> "Ah, good morning Mr. Anonymous. Something bothering you? I heard you pacing."
"Just... thinking about things. Posey isn't with you?"
> "No, one of your ponies - though I didn't recognize the voice, a younger stallion - asked for help for a moment and honestly I can get around inside here will enough on my own now that I know the layout."
> A younger stallion?
> Sunburst?
> What would he need Posey for?
"Ah, well. In the interim, is there anything I can get you."
> "Get me? No, not get me, but I do have things that I think we need to discuss."
"...of course. If you're not busy now...?"
> "Not at all."
> Folding his hands on the cane, Randall regards you through sightless eyes - a surprisingly eerie experience - and frowns slightly.
> "In truth, I'm starting to become a little concerned. I realize you've safely managed to expand your processes with a considerable improvement in profit until now, but I am beginning to wonder if things are getting too large for your current control mechanism."
> Your face hardens, and for once you're thankful he could not see.
> Though the tone of your voice probably told him all he needed to know.
"And what, may I ask, is driving you to these conclusions? The... difficulties we are experiencing now are if anything much smaller in scale than the ones I had before you arrived."
> "Be that as it may, they're not being resolved either. And there is more."
"More?"
> "Haute Glamour, is expressing concern over Cadance's ability to lead. It isn't any call against your decisions, mind you, and your recent choice to become directly involved may very well be one that much improves things here."
> Haute was whispering in his ear, was she?
> Cadance had warned you about her.
> But then again... Cadance had been the one responsible for 
"Is that so."
> "She feels that Cadance may be taking too light a touch with the camp - placing too much faith in the methods of leadership she used back in Equestria."
"I doubt my alicorn could forget this isn't her original home."
> "I doubt she has, but she may be trying to make it like her original home instead."
> Arms folding, Randall sighs and shakes his head.
> "Please, Anonymous. I do not want to push you too much, but ultimately I am responsible to your investors as well as you. And if they do not see something being done, they may get worried. Give them something to settle their minds."
[Choice]
"Well, I understand your concerns-"
> "My concerns? No, they are not my concerns. I'm merely passing them on."
> An excellent way, you think, to deflect responsibility from himself.
"Regardless of whose they are, I have to rebuff them entirely. The entire objective of this operation is to allow Cadance to function with less need for strongarming her into things she doesn't want. Yes, there are ponies here who will act out and rebel - but so would there be in any other facility of this size, and I'm not paying a small army of guards to look after them all."
> You've been wandering in circles waiting for Sunburst for too long, and a chair is looking particularly restful at this moment.
> Dropping into it, you note that Randall's head follows you with some fair accuracy on noise alone.
"Maybe she is working with a lighter touch than they are used to, but that's the risk they're investing in: The idea that if we let things be a little bit more like Equestria, we can skip all that costly oversight. If they don't like that, they can always invest in T-bonds and get an assured return."
> "Yet you yourself are promising to get more personally involved now. They might argue that's a contradiction."
> You chuckle to yourself - again with that 'they'.
"I am moving to become more directly involved with the operation - but in cooperation with Cadance, not against her. The details may be changing, but the broad theory remains the same. Their money - your money - remains in good hands."
> "You'd be willing to bet your livelihood on that promise?"
"I'm betting my daughter's future on this, Mr. Cooper. If it falls apart, she has nothing."
> Cocking your head, you raise an eyebrow before forgetting the gesture is wasted on him.
"What about you? Would you bet your future on Haute Glamour's word?"
> "She is, in my opinion, unparalleled in her ability to get inside the minds of other ponies and discerning how best to manage them..."
> Now it is your turn to push back, sensing that he isn't quite sure of something:
"I hear a 'but' there."
> A little smile creeps across Randall's lips.
> "You do. She's an excellent judge of character, but I do not think she has ever managed a situation on this scale before."
"That might be part of it, I think it has much less to do with scale and much more to do with preference."
> Shrugging lightly - again, out of sheer habit - you add:
"Haute may be used to taking a more absolute management style, and so she is simply reporting what she sees as out-of-the-norm. But the entire point of my endeavor is to put Cadance in a position of limited power within my facilities, and that may include letting her run things in a more typically Equestrian style."
> "Perhaps. I do admit I've never considered giving her this kind of power to direct my business. She simply does not have those skills."
"Regardless of her skillset, Cadance's decisions are netting me results."
> Glancing aside to make sure there are no other four-legged listeners, you go on:
"Of the four responsible for attacking my maid, the pony security guards have already recovered two. The third surrendered to Cadance voluntarily, and she's pried the location of the last from him."
> Though he normally held an admirable poker face when dealing with business matters, Randall is completely unable to hide his shock.
> "Really, now? What will you be doing with them?"
"The three we're having to drag in - they're going to have to be doing a damn good bit of begging to earn even a drop of mercy from me. The one who surrendered... I'm not mindlessly cruel. If you want to report to your shareholders that I'm taking a stronger hand, tell them that."
> Grinning sharply, Randall nods an affirmative.
> "You know, in a way I'm glad you chose to stand your ground on this."
"Really? You were the one who brought it up to me."
> "Yes, but that doesn't mean I thought they were the greatest problem you had. If you'd gone back on your grand scheme, that'd be more worrying to me than anything else."
"I won't be. Cadance and I may not always see eye to eye, but I brought her here for a reason and I intend to stick with that. If she-"
> You're interrupted by your study door swinging open.
> Posey emerges - the guide handle strapped to her saddle waving in the air like some sort of bizarre antenna.
> Behind her, you can just barely hear Sunburst's voice:
> "...and thank you again!"
> So, they had been talking.
> You'd have to see what that was about.
"Well, here comes Posey. I suppose this means you're going to be heading off now?"
> "Unfortunately so. Thank you for the time, though."
"Always, always."
> As soon as she is out of earshot, though, you march back into the study.
> Sunburst is still on the floor, packing books back into his saddlebags.
> He starts when you speak, nearly tumbling over:
"So, needed to borrow Posey for a bit?"
> "Yes, Master."
> Head dipped in an obviously deferential position, Sunburst is offput by you presence.
> "I needed a - a baseline, so to speak, to compare Flurry Heart to."
"Ah. Non-unicorn, I assume, since otherwise you'd use yourself."
> "Yes... although I'm not a very good example. My magic isn't that strong at all."
> Even as he speaks, though, you can tell there is something else running through his head.
> Something other than mere baselines and comparisons is weighing on Sunburst's mind.
"...you know, Sunburst, if there's something you're concerned about, you can tell me directly."
> "I..."
> Again there is hesitation, but this time he manages to pull his eyes up to look at you directly.
> "Will I be coming back tomorrow? To continue her lessons?"
> You blink in surprise.
"Is that it? That's what you were worried about?"
> "You hadn't said anything about it before now, Master..."
> Chuckling gently, you reach out and ruffle Sunburst's already-messy mane.
"If I was going to throw you out, I'd have done it already. You'll be back here, Sunburst."
> Though he cringes back from the touch, the relief felt at your words is immediate and obvious.
> "Thank you, Master!"
"You really were worried about that, huh?"
> "I..."
> This time his hesitation is different - personal, rather than out of fear for you.
> "Master, I've told you... Flurry Heart is the closest thing I have to family left. Aside from my marefriend, she was the closest thing to family I had even before. If I lost her again..."
> It is slowly dawning on you just how much that filly means to this stallion.
> Perhaps even as much as Flurry meant to Cadance.
> If he ever turned rebellious again - though you doubted that - Flurry could possibly be leveraged against Sunburst as much as against her own mother.
> A useful note to be filed away.
"Do I really worry you that much?"
> "In some ways, Master. I thought you would hate me. Because I helped lead the escape."
> With just those words, Sunburst manages to crack the smile that had been sitting on your face.
> He sees it too, and flinches in anticipation of what is to come.
"...I admit, I'm - not happy about that. To say the least. But you took a pretty harsh whipping for it, and you've given me no trouble since. That's enough reason to put aside my anger."
> No words are given in reaction to that, but you can practically see the stress and apprehension leaving him.
> "I'll be sure to do the best I can for Flurry Heart."
"I know you will. That's why I agreed to this."

> In the end, nine guards had been assigned to this.
> Six human, and three ponies.
> No chance had been taken; Chrysocolla wasn't going to be escaping this.
> Similarly, the raid was being done in broad daylight - both for speed, and because it wasn't as likely she'd have slipped away.
> The grate Windy Winters claimed she had been slipping in and out through was circled first; true enough, it was very loose.
> You glance up to Gene with a nod.
"We'll go for the storm drain vault. If she isn't there somehow, close it all back up and wait her out."
> "Agreed."
> Leaving three guards behind - two humans and a pony - the rest of you circle around.
> The vault itself has little to show on the surface except for a round metal plate set into the ground - a 'manhole' (how typical of humans to name something arbitrarily after them).
> Next to it, though, is the far larger double sheet metal doors belonging to the utility vault.
> Gene motions to the that second vault:
> "Radio it in - have them shut off the electricity in there."
> Moments later the entire street goes dark, a bizarre silence falling as everypony who had been working comes to a halt.
> "Good. Unlock the storm vault; we'll open that one first.
> One guard kneels to undo the padlock holding it shut while another fits a lever to one of several small holes.
> Then Seismic Shift steps up, taking the lever in his mouth and quickly dragging the entire plate aside with a flick of his neck in a prodigious display of Earth Pony strength.
> Immediately you are at the side of the hole, peering down into it.
> Stretching your neck out over the hole reveals an expansive, shadowed space falls away to three sides of the manhole.
> On the fourth sits the ladder used to enter the storm drain. 
> Despite the very limited light falling into the space, you can clearly see small stacks of supplies and materials to either side of the channel meant to carry the water.
"Chrysocolla!"
> And there's the movement you'd expected - a sudden scrambling of a half-seen shape as the mare realizes she's been found.
"Give it up, Chrysocolla. We have your entrance covered and there's nine of us up here. You've got one chance to come up, then we flush you out."
> "Go to Tartarus, I'm not just giving up!"
> Her voice is equal parts rage and fear.
> "You know what he'll do to me if I come up there. I'd kiss Nightmare Moon's hooves before I turn myself in to that!"
"No! He's reasonable, Chrysocolla! Windy Winters surrendered to us, and he hasn't been mistreated!"
> "Really? Really?! That's what I'm supposed to believe? He ripped my hiding spot out of that stallion with-"
"Windy told us! He turned you over, without anyone laying hand or hoof on him. Do you understand? It doesn't have to be this-"
> Something goes whizzing by your head up into the air to clatter back down onto the pavement.
> A fragment of concrete - probably rubble from her efforts to break a path into the utility vault.
> Chrysocolla's voice follows, shrill and now rich with terror:
> "Liar! He's going to torture me to death the same way he did Corona, and you're going to lie about that too!"
> You'd instinctively yanked your head back the moment the first projectile appeared, and now sigh.
"...I don't think she's coming up. Flush her out."
> A small, innocuous-looking cylinder is dropped in, but moments later you can hear a soft pop-hiss and the mare's pained shriek.
> As you wait to see the results of it, one of the human guards fits a wet rag and large pair of goggles over your head rendering your vision blurry and distorted.
> It was the result of an oversight discovered early in planning this:
> While the human guards had masks suitable for protecting them from the irritating sprays they used, no such provision had been made for pony guards.
> Something that might be rectified in the future, but for now a simple pair of pegasi goggles and soaked cloth tied over you nose and mouth hopefully providing enough.
> When the latter didn't make it feel like you were choking already, that is.
> Wearing the rag had given you fresh sympathy for Comet Tail and his experience.
> Not that you'd be going into the storm-drain manhole in the first place; ponies made terrible climbers in general, and pegasi in particular were ill-suited to such underground warrens.
> Even the thought of being trapped in a tiny, enclosed space surrounded by hundreds of pounds of concrete - some of it already damaged by her excavations - is enough to send prickles down your spine.
> The humans, on the other hand, have no such problems; already purpose-made protective masks are being pulled on.
> "We'll go in through the utility vault. Open it up!"
> Again Seismic Shift heaves his head back - this time throwing open the utility vault doors with a mighty clang that echoes down the street.
> Immediately it is clear that Windy Winters had been had been absolutely right about her using this as a place to store any leftover contraband.
> The floor was littered with it; a neat circle had been punched in one of the concrete walls opposite the thick electrical conduits to connect it to the storm drain.
> But the most important factor - Chrysocolla herself - is nowhere to be seen.
> Two guards drop down into the space, tasers drawn, and make their way to the hole.
> "She's not in there!"
> You swear under your breath - made even more muffled by the kludged-together mask - but Gene just snorts.
> "Must be trying to go for her exit. They'll be waiting for her there."
> Yet, as you wait, no report comes and your worries only grow.
"Gene, where this storm drain goes - are there any other vaults she could have gotten to? Any other she could escape from, that Windy might not have known about?"
> "No. The next closest to it - we looked for them on a map, you know? It is through twenty feet of earth and concrete. And we checked it - no tunnels."
> "Not then."
> Seismic steps up, his own voice distorted by the bizarre 'mask' he wore.
> "But she's an earth pony with a talent for rock. She'll have an affinity for it. She could dig that."
"Like you, Seismic Shift?"
> He bobs his head in affirmative.
> "Might even have started digging before. Who knows how long they were working on this place?"
> Muttering some swear under his breath in his native language, Gene points to two more of the guards.
> "You, and you! Stay here! You two, and you two - go check any other manholes! Thunderlane, with me!"
> And then he takes off; for his apparent age, Gene is surprisingly sprightly and you're forced into a gallop to keep up with him.
> Sprinting the distance to the next utility vault, he arrives panting but not completely winded; considering the body armor
> There's no need to even check the vault; the crunching and cracking of concrete audible from within already told plenty the moment you had arrived.
> Chrysocolla lifts a hoof to shield her eyes as the Gene throws the covering doors open, sun suddenly streaming in and finally giving you a solid look at the mare.
> Her face is young, but lined with early age; her coat, originally the same rich blue-green of her namesake stone, now filthy with accumulated muck and dirt from the tunnel walls.
> Eyes, red and watery from the effects of the gas they'd used.
> But not enough to hide the fear in them.
> The hole she'd opened in the wall in desperation wasn't even complete; though she'd managed to get her head, shoulders, and forelegs through, the rest of her was still in the tunnel.
> It had been poorly-positioned, breaking through directly in back of a pair of gently-humming transformers in the vault and forcing her to duck beneath their cabling.
> Evidently this one was not on the same circuit as the first, and had not been shut off.
> She'd clearly been trying to widen the aperture enough to get the rest of the way out when you arrived.
"Wait!"
> You lift a hoof, keeping Gene from advancing.
"I'm not lying to you, Chrysocolla. You will be punished, but he won't torture you just to see you break. Cadance won't allow it."
> Spitting furiously onto the ground, she shakes her head - voice laden with unimaginable panic.
> "She'll 'allow' whatever her Master wishes. I'll just be another example to break everypony's spirit. A tool for him. Just like Comet and Autumn and Windy-"
"Windy gave himself up! And where else are you going to go?! You can't turn around now. I will go down there and drag you out if I have to."
> "I'll bite! I'll tear your throat out!"
> "No, you won't."
> Stepping up, Gene levels another can of spray-gas at her.
> "You make a move for Thunderlane, I'll spray this right into your eyes."
"It's over, Chrysocolla. Time to give up."
> "No, no, no!"
> Her eyes are rolling in wild fear; you can even smell the rank desperation wafting off of her.
> "You won't take me to him, you won't!"
"Yes, I will. Gene, if she moves, dose her-"
> Abruptly Chrysocolla's eyes straighten and focus on you.
> Face splitting in a wild, maddened smile, she laughs a shrill, broken laugh that makes your coat stand on end.
> "You. Won't. Take. Me."
> With no warning she raises her head to a rubber-coated cable above her-
"NO!"
> -and bites.
> There's a flash, bright enough to fill your vision with spots.
> A noise, like a million angry bees.
> Some great force lifts you and hurls you back, but when you rise it does not hurt.
> Not physically.
> The eerie silence, the stillness that has come, though - that hurts.
> When the other guards come running, they find you sitting at the edge of the vault - staring with dull eyes at the corpse of a mare frozen in eternal spasm by her own choice.
> By her own fear.
[Choice]
> "Thunderlane?"
> Someone is shaking you.
> "Thunderlane, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
> No, somepony.
> That's a hoof on your withers.
> Seismic Shift?
> No.
> Somepony else.
> "Thunderlane!"
"I..."
> "Let him be."
> This time it is a hand sitting on your back.
> Gene - he has gotten back up as well, and is standing at your side.
> This is finally enough to snap you back to your senses; everything seems to come screeching back into motion.
"No, I'm - I'm okay."
> You swallow, hard, and look back at the corpse-
> No.
> You can't think of her like that - 'the corpse'.
> Chrysocolla was a pony; not always a good pony, but still a pony.
"We... we need to get her body out of here. Before anypony sees. Before this can turn into a riot."
> "We will close this street. I've already called for more guards; they'll bring a cart to move her."
"Okay. I'll wait here, until this runs out-"
> "No. Thunderlane, you have done your part. It's okay. You can go now. Tell Cadance and Anonymous what happened; they need to know."
"...Sir, I realize I am just a pony - a slave - so I'm only asking - please. Please don't. I have to see this to the end-"
> "You will."
> Kneeling down, Gene keeps his hand steady on your shoulder.
> "She will not be going anywhere. But you - you are hurting, Thunderlane. You can go."
> He wasn't trying to push you away, but to spare you.
> Mouth opening once, then again, you at last just settle for a nod when no words come.
"Alright. I'll - go. But please."
> So many thoughts running through your head, so much to still be said.
> And not nearly enough time to say it.
"Don't - don't take her to the medical clinic. They see this there, it'll just make things worse. And check for any other tunnels down there; remember what Seismic Shift said-"
> "Thunderlane -"
> Gene pats your shoulder.
> "-go. Telling them as important as any other part of this."
> True enough.
"O-Okay. Radio Anonymous, tell him that I will meet him down here."
> You turn away and retreat on hoof, not quite trusting yourself to take to wing right now.
> It's a miracle you're able to trot straight; every time you blink the specter of Chrysocolla's body, twisted in its final agony.
> ...
"Chrysocolla is dead."
> Anonymous had taken a few minutes to arrive, and in that time you had decided that there would be no mincing words here.
> Beside him, Cadance hangs her head - eyes squeezed shut.
> "Celestia help us all..."
> "How did it happen?"
"We set up on the hideout Windy Winters told us about, and started flushing her out. Unfortunately, she had another nearly-complete tunnel to a different utility vault Windy Winters didn't know about. We didn't know to shut the electricity there off-"
> Anonymous actually goes pale, sweat turning his bare skin shiny.
> "That noise I heard-"
"Yes. We cornered her and she was - terrified. Of being captured."
> "Of being tortured."
"Yes, Master. Both Gene and I tried to bring her in safely, but - there was a power cable to one of the transformers above her head. She bit it."
> Anonymous drops his head into his hands and simply remains that way, curled over in a position of such abject unhappiness that you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy.
> He may have had little mercy for the ponies who'd beaten Mocha Cream, but this clearly had not been something he wanted.
> Cadance, however, has no such sympathy.
> "Anonymous, you need to do something about this - now. Right now this - this is a condemnation from many ponies' point of view. A pony is dead after being chased by the guards, and rumors about what happened to Corona-"
> "I know what the rumors say I did!"
> Both you and Cadance take steps back; Anonymous' voice had risen to an unexpected roar.
> A second later, it is back down to its normal low tone.
> "No, I'm - I'm sorry. God, I just..."
> He sucks a hard, shaking breath.
> "...okay. This is bad. I get it - really, really bad. Ponies are going to think you and I did kill her-"
"...may I speak honestly?"
> "I'd hope you were already."
"You and I are responsible - you especially. I chased her down, cornered her, left her no option to flee - but you also set the expectation she had of being tortured to the point of breaking. Cadance has been telling you to get more directly involved, be more open with us - but you hadn't yet, or have to late. She committed suicide, but we - specifically you - brought her to that point."
> Anonymous' chair scrapes across the floor as he suddenly stands, hands balling into fists, but Cadance yells first:
> "Thunderlane! This isn't the time-"
"Yes! Yes it is! Because damn near every other pony in this camp is going to be thinking the same thing. And if we don't, there's going to be a real rebellion. Not broken windows and painted messages, not a pony being attacked here and there - a real fight. We have to confront that!"
> Turning wordlessly, Anonymous walks straight away from you to a window.
> There he stops, hands tightly clasped behind his back and staring it into the street beyond.
> Cadance looks between the two of you, for once seeming at a loss for what to do.
> Because she knows you are right.
> Anonymous does too.
> Swallowing hard, you wrench your tone back down to a more reasonable one.
"...I know this wasn't what you were aiming for, Anonymous. But if you don't accept some of the blame, them ponies are going to lose faith in you."
> More softly:
"I'm going to lose faith in you. I didn't take this job to see ponies fry themselves - to have to stare at her corpse, all twisted up and hard like that. I joined to keep ponies safe. If I can't do that because of you... what am I doing?"
> "If I don't admit that I was responsible for a pony that full of hate deciding to off herself."
"You are responsible, in some ways."
> Lifting a hoof, you jab it angrily in his direction.
"Her hate was her own, but you are responsible for her fear."
> "Cadance."
> "Yes?"
> "Crescent Moon. We were going to do something for her benefit, yes?"
"And the others. So she isn't suspected of telling. After this, if word gets out she gave us names-"
> "I get it, Thunderlane."
> He sighs softly.
> "I'm going to have a hell of a time rationalizing it, but I'm going to have to."
"You'll do it then?"
> "Not tonight. Wait until tomorrow, at least. I know rumors can spread, but we'll gain nothing by rushing in to things. A day to organize, and I'll address this."
> That, you suppose, is as much as you could have hoped for.
"In that case, may I ask - am I dismissed?"
> "Yeah. Go ahead, Thunderlane. I'm guessing you need some time to yourself too."
"Yes. Your Highness, if I may?"
> "Of course, Thunderlane..."
> You're only half a block from the town hall when your legs fail you again.
> Collapsing onto your belly, you stay there a moment - drawing the odd look from a passing pony - and try to force the image of Chrysocolla's final moment back down from your eyes.
> Somehow you eventually get up to your hooves again, lurching the rest of the way back to a common shower area and firmly planting your body beneath its icy spray.
> You'd been afraid that she would find you again hunched over the toilet, vomit coating your muzzle, but surprisingly there's little of the nausea that had come with Crescent Moon's whipping.
> Instead a cold deadness fills you, a hungry void which saps your energy and leaves you shivering even when you turn the water up to hot.
> Eventually you shut it off, and half-walk, half-stumble in a daze to Vapor Trail's quarters.
> Later you would think back that opening the door with your guard's key was a terrible abuse of power, but at this moment you needed to be there.
> Climbing up onto her bed, though, feels like an unforgivable sin.
> So you wait there, huddled in place and sometimes dozing, until the sun creeps away and the door cracks open.
> "Oh, Thunderlane..."
> Her hooves approach, muzzle brushing over your withers between your wings.
> "What happened...?"

> Anonymous had retreated back to his own home soon after Thunderlane left, and it is there - predictably ensconced in the fortress of his bedroom - that you find him come evening.
> Tapping lightly at the door, you do not wait for him to answer before sweeping in.
"I notified Crescent Moon and the other ponies, like you asked."
> "Thank you, Cadance."
> Anonymous was seated in one of his typical large chairs, staring out the window as he often did when perturbed.
> "I'll announce my... whatever come tomorrow."
> Also as he often did, there was an empty glass in his hand.
> Even before you approach you know you'll smell the remnants of alcohol in it.
"What do you plan to do?"
> "Hell if I know. Throw myself at their mercy, find out if Equestria has a capital punishment..."
"This isn't a joke, Anonymous!"
> "I'm not joking!"
> His hand slams down on the chair's arm, the three words roared out.
> "I don't know, Cadance. I don't know - this is running away from me as much as you. I knew there'd be some ponies pissed at my punishment for them, but I never expected a pony to be DEAD!"
> Finish, he slumps forward - free hand clutching his face.
> "God, I'm at my own wits' end. Get more directly involved, you say - but that's not much help if I barely know how to do it!"
> Carefully you creep around the chair, and realize to your shock that there are actually tears running down between his cheeks and hand.
> "Punish them - fuck, sure I wanted to punish them. Give them ten times what they gave Mocha Cream. But a pony dead..."
"Master..."
> He snorts gently.
> "Yeah. Some master I am. God fucking damn it all..."
"That you are this upset about it alone proves that you care, though!"
> "I care, but I don't think that ponies are going to accept my heartfelt apologies just because I care!"
> Rocking back into the chair, Anonymous tilts his head up until his eyes stare into the ceiling.
> "Thunderlane is right. It is my fault that this is happening anyway, and they are going to see that. Fuck if I know how we're going to get around this..."
"You're going to have Crescent Moon's sentence shortened already. That's a good start. And you have started listening to our suggestions-"
> "Yeah, well that doesn't fucking help much if I'm already the boogeyman who goes out and snuffs ponies I don't like, does it?!"
> For the briefest moment you consider snapping back that none of this would have happened if he hadn't owned slaves.
> He couldn't have tortured Corona, wouldn't have had ponies looking to flee from him in the first place...
> But that isn't the time for this; if this tipping point falls the wrong way, you will lose the camp - and with it, Flurry Heart.
> To say nothing of the violence that would be visited on ponies and humans alike 
"You are responsible, Anonymous, and you need to own up to that. But that does not mean you cannot do something."
> "Yes, yes, I always have to do this, have to do that, have to do - just who the fuck is the actual slave here?!"
> You duck as the glass goes whizzing past your head to explode against the wall, shattering into a million glittering fragments.
> Staring a the little pool of gem-like slivers glittering in the sunlight, Anonymous sighs and waves a hand dismissively.
> "Don't worry about it. I'll just ask Mocha to get rid of it; she'll-"
> The hand falls to the chair's arm again, his head slumping back forward.
> "She's been gone for so long, and I still sometimes forget she isn't here..."
> He laughs bitterly, head shaking.
> "You know, it's funny. I lived well over ninety percent of my life without a servant in sight, but the second she's gone I feel something's - missing."
> A mere spark of your horn is enough to gather up the glass and compact it into a ball to be set aside.
"You're not missing a servant. You're missing her. You're missing somepony."
> "Yeah... somepony who actually saw me as something real."
"For right now, though, you need rest. And to sleep this alcohol off; this isn't good for you, Anonymous."
> "What are you, my mother now? You want a son too?"
> Standing is an effort for him, but he manages.
> "Fuck... I don't want to be isolated up here away from the camp. But every time I do try to connect, something like this happens..."
> With great, lurching steps he manages to make his way to the bed.
> At the very edge he trips and falls face-first into it, but manages to right himself and sit on the edge.
"...I'll be back in the morning. And then we can discuss exactly what you will do."
> "Cadance?"
> His voice is weak and plaintive.
> "Stay with me. Tonight."
> You're stalled with one hoof lifted, mind racing.
"I..."
> "Please. Stay."
> It's not an order, but a request.
[Choice]
"...I will stay."
> Anonymous seems to sink in place, releasing a breath and nodding.
> "Thank you..."
"Can you get yourself ready for bed, or do you need help?"
> "I can manage. I think."
> Though his efforts to heave himself upright do not entirely reassure you on that point.
> Two tries are needed to even stand up, and his passage to the bathroom is staggering and unsteady.
> You remain waiting at a distance until the door shuts and even a few moments thereafter, ears focused forward and half-expecting to hear him tumbling to the floor at any moment.
> When that does not come, you turn to other tasks.
> A fresh glass is brought, and with a little searching a bottle of water to fill it from as well.
> "Cadance? Are you there?"
> Anonymous' muffled voice carries a note of uncertainty.
"Yes?"
> "...my sleep clothes aren't in here."
> You groan gently, resisting the urge to find a nearby object to rest your forehead against.
> He was drunk, you remind yourself.
> Not thinking straight.
> You couldn't hold him responsible for this.
> Seeming to sense your frustration, he adds:
> "...I'm sorry. Normally Mocha Cream would have laid them out in here before I came in. I forget a lot, but then I can come out and get them-"
"Are they somewhere out here?"
> "Yes. Dresser on, um... left, I think. Left of the big window with my chair."
> Yes, there they are.
"Open the door a touch, and I will pass them through on my magic."
> The door does indeed open - how far you cannot see; in expectation that "a touch" might be difficult for him, you'd stood off to one side to avoid any unwanted views.
> It is, however, plenty open enough for the bundle of clothes to be floated in.
> "I have them. Thanks."
"You are welcome."
> Something Anonymous said is nagging on you, and when he does emerge - now dressed in a much more loosely-fitting sweatshirt - you ask:
"You've didn't choose another pony to take care of these things while Mocha Cream is... gone?"
> "No, I..."
> Running a hand through his hair, Anonymous shakes his head.
> "...never got around to it."
> There's more he isn't saying, you suspect.
> How many other ponies, even in the house staff, would be that close with him?
> The naked adoration with which Mocha regarded him alarmed you at times for it certainly could not have been healthy, but perhaps she had been able to reach out to him in a way another could not have.
"Here. Drink, our you will regret it in the morning."
> "Thank you..."
> Anonymous re-seats himself on the bed when the glass is drained, and you snap the light off leaving the room lit only by the diffuse glow of distant lights coming in through the curtained windows.
> You turn to the bed, and are struck by a sudden moment of hesitation.
> Getting in bed with your owner, quite literally...
> It was something that had happened before, yes, but you had been drunk then too - having no memory of deciding to join him.
> Willingly joining your captor was quite another decision.
> Why are you even doing this?
> Anonymous was clearly no friend of yours.
> Why even bother?
> Your first instinct is to dismiss it as a purely mercenary choice:
> If Anonymous could not control this situation, you would lose your daughter; this was a small cost to be spared that misery.
> You had to curry favor with him.
> But the truth is, it wasn't that.
> He'd shown you that somewhere buried beneath that unsympathetic, even violent shell was a real heart that still cared.
> Celestia had always taught you that until the very end, any soul could be redeemed by friendship.
> If you were to be half the leader your aunt had been, you would have to hold to that.
> Especially with the number of other lives he held in his grasp, anger and alcohol were no excuse for pushing Anonymous away.
> Besides, at this point you were little better.
> No longer could you pretend that you hadn't become a collaborator.
> "Cadance?"
> Anonymous' voice cuts through your chain of thought.
> "You're staring. You okay?"
"Yes, I... I'm sorry. My thoughts got lost."
> With a little hop you bring yourself up onto the bed.
> On the opposite side, Anonymous brings down the covers and - with a few tries - manages to get himself mostly buried beneath them.
> You...
> ...aren't sure what you are going to do.
> Did Anonymous mean for you to join him beneath the covers as well?
> Whatever your reason for choosing this, that degree of intimacy was... a bit much.
> Instead you settle for sprawling out on your side over the covers, facing him with your hooves drawn close to your belly.
> Anonymous watches you a moment - his eyes glittering points in the dark.
> Slowly a hand reaches out to brush your cheek.
> Despite the touch not being expected, perhaps not wanted, you do not pull away.
> His hand lingers there, fingers tracing the side of your face.
> Up, up around your eyes to your ear, then down through the fall of your mane to where it pooled on the bed.
> "I... thank you doesn't seem enough."
"You needed this."
> Your tone is low, soft, soothing.
> "But I didn't order it."
"No."
> Deciding to change the subject, you tilt your head to allow him to continue brushing you.
"Why haven't you selected another pony from another among your staff here to serve you, though?"
> "I don't know, honestly. Maybe I'm trying to prove something to myself... maybe it just feels like Mocha Cream's place."
"She will be coming back, then?"
> The long silence that follows tells you otherwise.
> "They're doing some testing. She's - having some trouble. Fine motor control, magic control, that sort of thing. It might clear up eventually..."
> No wonder he feels alone now.
> To select another in Mocha's place undoubtedly feels like an admission she would not be able to recover from her ordeal.
"What happened there was not your fault."
> "I know. Those damn cunts who beat her-"
> You feel the covers shift as he tenses up, and quickly reach out with your magic to press him back down into bed.
"Shh. This isn't the time for that, Anonymous. We can think about those things in the morning."
> "Yeah, yeah..."
> He does, though, and after a moment you release your magic.
> It is only after it that you realize how disastrously that could have gone.
> Most slaveowners would not have tolerated any pony holding them down with magic.
> Yet all Anonymous does is, after a moment, reach out and let his hand brush down along your neck and over your chest.
> "Maybe I should have you fill that position."
> Your heart quickens a little, ready to head him off.
"I am - not sure if that is the best choice, given the current demands on my time and how it would look-"
> "Don't be silly; you'd look magnificent. A nice little maid's dress, a proper collar on your throat, some cute little frilly socks for you..."
> Your cheeks heat, at the same moment you realize he was teasing about the idea.
> A spark of anger flashes at how he so easily thought to reduce you to an object for his enjoyment, before it too is squashed.
> But not before his hand had felt the thudding of your heart.
> "I'm joking, Cadance. I know you're best where you are... better than I am."
> He chuckles gently.
> "Though I don't think you'd be so bad at being a maid either. You manage to keep yourself dignified, no matter what..."
> There are some times you remember that make you question that assertion, moments when you'd had to grovel shamelessly before him for some goal.
"...I..."
> "Even when they brought you in to me, the first time - they had you in hobbles and a huge fucking steel collar, but even then I could see the grace you had. You were magnificent."
> It is not a moment you care to remember, being one indignity in a long line of them.
"That is because I fight, Anonymous. Because I refuse to let this break me."
> "Mmm."
> After a moment's pondering, you lay your head down across your forehooves and let it rest there facing him.
"And you should not give in to your own anger, your own despair so quickly either.
> "Hah."
> His hand comes up, though to rest on your cheek again, though.
> Only a moment's warning is given, Anonymous' elbow bracing to support his shoulders.
> And then his arms are wrapped around your neck, head nestled in against your ear with breath tickling against it.
> "You tell me 'thank you' often enough, Cadance, but I don't ever get to really say it to you."
> Awkwardly you lift a hoof, then think better of it and extend a wing around him instead - an unexpected soft nicker being drawn from your throat as he strokes down your neck.
"Words are good, Anonymous. But actions, from both of us, will show more."
> "True, true."
> Anonymous falls back into bed, half-pulling you with him.
> You end up resting a hoof on his chest, peering down at him as he looks up.
"Rest now, Master. You will need it."
> "I will, I will."
> Once more, though, a hand rises to cup your cheek.
> His voice drops to a whisper, forcing you to turn both ears fully forward to hear:
> "You truly are magnificent..."
> With that, he lets his hands fall back down - eyes closing and resting on his belly.
> Backing away too, you retake your place sprawled on the far side of the bed.
> Soon Anonymous' breathing slows, and you know he has found rest at last.
> You, though, do not do so quickly.
> Instead you remain watching his passive form in the darkness, wondering.
> How did the same mind that was capable of torturing Corona, unhesitatingly holding Flurry Heart's well-being over your head, and threatening ponies with even worse inhabit the same man who you'd seen just now?
> A shiver runs through your coat.
> Not entirely on account of your thoughts; though the room was warmer than even your quarters and you of course had your own coat, it was still winter and Anonymous seemed to prefer cooler temperatures.
> Regarding the blankets you lay on, you ponder a time before concluding that it would not be disaster to crawl beneath them and avoid shivering the night away.
> After all, you had done so once before - in far less controlled circumstances - and Anonymous had not done anything untoward then.
> With a deft touch of magic and minimum of wriggling you slip under the covers, taking a position pointedly on the far side of the bed from him.
> Even then sleep does not come easily.
> I takes several rounds of the careful breathing exercises Celestia had taught you before unconsciousness arrives at last.

> Morning.
> It comes with furious, stabbing lances of light that penetrate the windowshades and pour into the room, dragging you back to consciousness.
> Yet it is not quite as miserable as you'd somehow expected, given the alcohol consumed the previous night.
> ...of course, it had been much less than the last time, and Cadance had given you -
> Cadance.
> Who had stayed with you afterward.
> In your bed.
> And at some point during the night chosen not merely to make use of the covers, but shift over against you as well.
> Her back is pressed to your side, and you can feel the bulge of one wing against your belly.
> That weight on your shoulder - that must be her head.
> ...yes, if your twist your own head a bit you can feel her mane brushing against your cheek.
> She smells - sweet.
> Not the sickly sweetness of perfume, but a sort of genuine, more natural scent.
"Cadance?"
> Your voice is low and soft.
> But it is enough to draw her awake, and the alicorn stirs a bit before freezing under your touch.
> "A-Anonymous - Master - I, ah -"
"It's okay, Cadance. Nothing, ah, happened..."
> "N-No, Master. Your hand..."
"Hrm?"
> One of your hands - the one on her side - was resting on her back, slightly further down than her wings.
"It's okay, Cadance. You don't have to be afraid of my touch."
> "M-Master... it's just that it'skindofonmycutiemark."
> The last few words are babbled out so fast you take a moment to process them.
> ...oh.
> OH.
> Cadance's hips must bet twisted in a way you hadn't realized.
> That was a rather more intimate gesture for them, wasn't it?
> Immediately you draw your hand up until you can feel her ribs beneath your fingers instead.
> And just as quickly you can feel Cadance relax - rolling back onto her belly and into a safer position.
"My error. I hadn't meant... anything of it."
> "I - understand."
> Rolling onto your side, you slip both arms around her and squeeze; the alicorn makes a surprised squeak as she finds herself trapped in another hug.
> This time your hands fall a little bit lower, settling on the base of her wings, and Cadance's whinny ends with a quiet nicker.
"...honestly, though, you don't have to be afraid of my touching you."
> "I-I know."
> And to her merit, she does relax - wings half-spreading and head settling on your shoulder.
> "You've shown me you aren't only a monster."
"Good girl."
> Releasing her, you push yourself upright in bed.
"Well. Time to face the music, I guess, and make are calls on exactly what we're going to announce."
> "And what happens to the other two rebels that were captured."
> You grimace, nodding.
"Suffice to say I don't think I'll be going through with all my threats I made..."
> "What did you say?"
"I threatened to have Comet Tail euthanized. And to have his horn taken or Autumn Frost's wing tendons cut."
> To her credit, Cadance does not show a hint of revulsion or hatred.
> She does not even pull back from where her hoof touches you, only regards you with sad eyes.
> "Would you have?"
"If Windy Winters had not come forward, if Chrysocolla hadn't been found or had tried to strike back... I don't know what I'd have considered."
> You sigh heavily.
"I was not thinking right. Anger... consumes you sometimes."
> "But you will not."
"No. I will not."
> "And the others-"
> You raise a single finger to silence her.
"First, I think we both need to freshen up. Second, I think it might be better if we actually discussed this all in the camp, not sealed away up here, no?"
> Understanding dawns on Cadance's face, followed quickly by approval.
> "Very much so. My office again, then?"
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll see you there... one hour."
[Choice]
>...
> The afternoon is unseasonably warm, as if a portent of the end of winter and the coming spring.
> Or, perhaps, of the embers of discontent burning in the camp - ready to burst into flame at any moment.
> Though rapidly falling towards the horizon, the sun was not yet set.
> You'd ended the work day hours early and called this gathering while the sky was still light.
> The ponies - your ponies - needed to see this with their own eyes, all of them.
> Merely listening to a PA system speak was not enough.
> And so every single pony was crowded into an open field on the edge of the camp, their collective body warmth combined to form a blanket of heat over the equine mass - enough to stave off the falling temperature even once the sun vanished.
> "Are you ready for this, Master?"
> Tearing your eyes from the murmuring horde of four-legged shapes, you glance down to the alicorn at your side and shake your head.
"No. Not ready. Not in the least. But time waits for no man - or pony. Come."
> There is no need to call for quiet as you step out onto the stage.
> From the moment you are in sight, a wave of silence sweeps through the crowd.
> Rumors, as you expected, have been spreading.
> A few guards linger just out of sight behind you; Gene had made the correct call in assuming that trying to surround you with a wall of men and arms would only make you seem standoffish and vulnerable.
> Instead, the only ones that accompanied you out on to the speaking platform were three ponies:
> Cadance, and two of the ponies who had elected to take up positions as guards.
> Neither was Thunderlane.
> You weren't clear exactly where he was, but you had some guesses.
> When questioned, Gene had simply shaken his head and said the stallion would not be there.
> You hadn't pushed it.
> Halting in front of the podium that had been set up, you pause and wait for the last whispers to die away.
"There is no easy way to say this."
> Voice alone was incapable of reaching all the crowd's ears, and so your words echoed from a handful of mobile speakers hastily arranged for the purpose.
"Over the last week, we have all been rocked by a series of events - a pony savagely beaten by her own kin, a hunt for those responsible - and yes, a death."
> A gentle ripple runs through the crowd, but for the moment you still hold their attention.
"No doubt a great many of you have heard a great many things at this point, so let me start by addressing the greatest issue at hand: Chrysocolla is indeed dead. She was one of four ponies who had beaten Mocha Cream, and was being hunted for this. Having been cornered in a hideout she constructed in an electrical vault, she chose to take her own life rather than face capture. She chose to do this because she feared torture at my hands - because she believed that death was a preferable alternative to being at my mercy-"
> "She was right!"
> The lone speaker is close, but is quickly drowned out by a hubbub of others responding.
> You wait for it to die some before raising your voice again:
"The truth is, actually, that I am not innocent in this and will not pretend to be. I am in many ways responsible for her fate even though I did not lay a hand on her. I was the one who terrified her with a hasty message - given in anger when I heard of what had happened to Mocha Cream, and indeed I bear responsibility for it."
> Once again you solidly have the crowd's attention; they had not been expecting that at all.
"When I said that I was becoming personally involved now, Chrysocolla had only my past examples to consider. She examined, and came to the conclusion that to be in my power was something to be feared - to be avoided at any cost. Because she remembered what happened to Corona."
> All at once the crowd flinches in unison, as if struck.
> They clearly had not expected you to utter that name - thought you would refuse to acknowledge the mare had ever existed, let alone that she had been tortured at your hands.
> Voices rising in a confused rabble, a million little arguments break out among them.
> And you let it happen - let them discuss.
> A unified crowd would be the worst possible thing at this moment - it might go with you, but it might just as well go against you.
> So for several long minutes you simply stand, allowing discussion, before silencing the crowd with a few short blows to the podium.
"...this, I think, is a topic that has festered too long in the darkness without being addressed. Now, we have to rip off the bandage and face this matter directly."
> No chance is given for discussion this time; you jump straight into it.
"Some time ago, a particular mare was chosen to be an example of punishment deserved for an escape. What followed after that, however, was a thuggish piece of brutality the blame for which rests solely on my shoulders. I allowed my anger to take hold of me, and rather than a mere punishment I acted with intend to break her. She suffered - worse, I would say, than the actual punishment given to those who had planned and lead the escape. I allowed myself to vent my anger against someone who had no cause for it, and it was this mistake - this catastrophic failure by me and me alone - that Chrysocolla thought of when she was cornered."
> As the words poured out, you could feel your voice becoming shakier.
> Emotions, being drawn up - the memories of the fury you'd unleashed on Corona, the deep and driving anger you'd in turn focused upon yourself when you'd come to your senses afterward.
> The endless regret for what it had set in motion.
> Letting them hear those feelings, and know your words were not empty.
"I compounded this by cutting myself off in the aftermath, leading Chrysocolla to the entirely rational assumption that if I were to 'get directly involved' again, it would be for her to suffer a similar fate."
"There is, of course, no way to undo the damage that I have done, and I will continue to bear the blame for that. I do not expect the consequences of it to go away, nor do I expect their memories to simply vanish away. But, that does not mean I cannot look forward to the future."
> Leaning in now, you let your voice begin to rise:
"No reason that we - together - cannot fix the lapses now and keep this from happening in the future. Keep any lives from being needlessly lost. Keep hatred from festering into violence. And the first step of this is to show that no pony has to fear torture and brutality at my hands."
> A single hand motion sets the signal.
> Five guards - five pony guards - lead the remaining three responsible ponies up onto the stage.
> The crowd's eyes immediately snap to them, seeing the shackles, hobbling chains, and heavy muzzles Autumn Frost and Comet Tail bore; seeing the way two guards walked with each pony leading them at the end of chains to their collars and muzzles.
> Taking in the deep fury with which they continued to glare at you.
> But it is when Windy Winters ascends the stage from the opposite side, unbound and with only a rope linked to his collar, that a true murmur of surprise runs through all the assembled ponies.
"...the other three ponies responsible for Mocha Cream's savage beating. Not chosen at random, not by whim or by opinion, but turned in by a handful of others among you who understood what would come of violence like that."
> Though you had not said anything about Windy Winters being included in that category, the other two had evidently guessed his participation in it.
> If Autumn Frost's glare at you had seemed to be enough to melt flesh, now she skewered him with expressions so fearsome it seemed as if he might burst into flame at any moment.
> Comet Tail takes a more direct route - rearing up and heaving at his chains as he tries to charge the other stallion, held only in place by the guards accompanying him.
> Were it not for the muzzles, both would surely be unleashing their exact feelings for their one-time compatriot.
"And, perhaps more importantly, not been victim to some parade of horrific tortures. Not broken. Not brutalized. They will face the consequences of what they did, and nothing more - and that will not be torturous either. There is no place in this camp for those who would choose to remorselessly beat innocent fillies simply for carrying out their given orders, and so their sentence is simple: They will be removed. Sold off, not to return."
> A fresh hubbub breaks out, the shock being too much.
> Not surprising; never before had you used expulsion from the camp as an actual punishment.
> Flagrant floggings and worse, yes - but never altogether expulsion.
> You're forced to raise your voice, speaking over the crowd to be heard:
"Windy Winters: You alone turned yourself in, knowing full well what you would face. You alone were apologetic, understanding that what you had taken part in was wrong. On account of this you will face no other punishment, and I will endeavor to ensure that you are purchased by a safe; should you find your way back here again with no more trouble, you will be allowed to return. I also extend the same to Comet Tail and Autumn Frost: Should you show due repentance for your actions, you too can receive the same."
> Their response is immediate and clear.
> Autumn Frost simply turns her head away, while Comet Tail looks you straight in the eye and manages to open his lips far enough to spit on the stage.
> Well, given the muzzle it's more like 'drool on the stage', but the point is made.
> Always the provocateur, right until the end.
"...very well. You will, both of you, be marked to indicate your unrepentant violence. Your feathers will be clipped, and an inhibitor implant put in as you cannot be trusted with your natural talents. Cadance, I turn them over to you to carry the sentence is carried out."
> Anger from the first two is expected, but Windy Winters simply bows his head in passive recognition of his fate.
> As they are being lead away, however, once again a single voice cries up from the crowd:
> "How in Tartarus do we trust you? How do we know they haven't been tortured, or that you would give them any chance-"
> "I will watch him."
> Cadance steps up beside you, her voice echoing without any need for microphone or speakers.
> "I am guilty for what happened to Corona too; I have that weight on my soul too. I cannot let it happen to another."
"...and if you will not trust her - Mellowheart! Nurse Mellowheart, come forward would you please?"
> At first, nothing happens.
> The ripple begins somewhere in the back of the crowd, slowly pushing forward.
> By the time she reaches the front, ponies are already moving out of Mellowheart's way.
> She strides a few paces forward from the edge of the crowd and stops there, staring defiantly up at you.
> "What?"
"...you have made it abundantly clear that you have no tolerance for torture, that you are even willing to put yourself at risk to make it known what you thought is wrong. Will you examine Windy Winters, to see if I have tortured him into submission? Will you examine Chrysocolla's remains, and verify the truth of how she died?"
> The mare stands still for several long moments, seeming to turn that over in her mind.
> "Is this an order or a request?"
"It... is an order. I order you examine them, and find the truth. I order you to tell nothing but the truth. Even if I am lying, then to tell the truth will let all of you know what I am. If I am honest, then the truth will show that I am no monster and that I only meet violence with violence."
> Mellowheart's face splits into an angry grin.
> "You don't need to tell me. If I find so much as a hint you're trying to pull the wool over our eyes-"
"Then I will deserve every bit of hell that will descend on my head."
> With that you spin and leave the stage entirely, your point made.
> Everything you could do now was done; it all depended on what Cadance and Mellowheart choose to say.
> While the nurse would have to wait before giving her verdict, the alicorn immediately takes the center stage.
> "As I said before, I too bear responsibility for this tragedy. However, what happened to Mocha Cream was a choice made by those four - a choice to, rather than directing their anger at the state of bondage we live in towards some useful task, vent it upon a mare who had equally little choice in the duty she was given."
> She is quickly getting into the flow of her speech, leaning forward with wings spreading.
> "Furthermore, this is no longer just about slavery and obedience or rebellion. It was a blow against the common bond of friendship Equestria was built upon and we still survive on amid this bondage. It was a blow against our ability to live side by side as ponies, against our efforts to preserve anything of our ways here."
> Pausing, Cadance turns her head away - not just from the crowd, but from you as well.
> Perhaps to hide her pained expression as the next words are given.
> "...because of this, I have to concur that this punishment does fit the crime. There is no place for them here. No matter how much anger might fill our hearts at the injustice we face, we cannot tolerate violence against each other. Friendship and camaraderie sustain us in these dark times, and we cannot afford to lose it."
> Gaze returning to the crowd - driven and fierce - she sweeps it across the assembled ponies, and then to you.
> "I, as your leader, will give my every breath before I admit defeat and allow us to be mindlessly brutalized, no matter who is responsible. To those of you who still rail against the bondage we live in - I urge you not to let that spirit die, for if it does I say we are no longer even ponies."
> Another pause, during which she seems to struggle for words before simply giving up.
> "...that is all."
> With that Cadance dismounts the stage eyes locked ramrod straight ahead and face covered with what you know by now to be a practiced mask.
> As you march away together, she murmurs:
> "That was a good touch with Mellowheart. Do you trust her, though? It could go badly if she lies."
"Gene's report indicated she was cooperative with Thunderlane. It's needless brutality that angers her, not me blindly. I think she will speak the truth."
> Cadance nods and says no more on the topic.
> At least not until you are far from the assembled ponies; only then does her mask break.
> Her everything - tail, ears, wings, head, everything - falling as the energy and fire seems to desert her.
> Reaching out, you rest a gentle hand on her withers.
> Not the teasing or possessive touch you had used this morning, but one of soft reassurance.
"You did well, Cadance."
> "I am sending ponies to their deaths, Anonymous. This weighs on my heart, even if they deserve it and have had every chance to apologize."
"They are not going straight to euthanasia, and they can even avoid the worst work camps if they turn around their behavior-"
> "Do not pretend that there is a real question about this, Anonymous. Neither of them will change."
> Her tone is unusually snappy, and Cadance glares up at you through narrowed eyes that are beginning to water.
> "Hatred has a firm grip on them - trust me that I know what is in their hearts - and being placed in a harder camp will not release that grip. They will only lash out more, a vicious spiral..."
> Halting in place, Cadance's eyes fall once more to the ground as her legs begin to tremble.
> "Doing it by proxy makes it no less certain. We have executed them. Their blood is on your hands - and my hooves."
[Choice]
"You might be right about that, Cadance, but they didn't give us much of a choice. This went well beyond anything that could be handle with any lesser punishment, not a whipping or anything. You said as much yourself."
> Shrugging lightly, you resume trudging forward.
"They chose to do this. They chose to target a filly. They chose to refuse every way out I gave them. They chose to be completely unrepentant. That isn't on your hooves. And if they manage to turn themselves around, they might survive still."
> "Yes. But it still tears at me."
> Cadance had managed to start herself moving again too, keeping pace at your side.
"It is hard, I'm not arguing that. But is there any choice at all here? If we didn't crush this now, violence would only have spread. A pony might even have been killed here."
> "A pony was killed here."
> You fix her with a hard look.
"You know what I mean. The points I'm trying to make are, they gave us zero choice and made their own decisions. None of that can be blamed on you."
> "Easy to say, but..."
> The alicorn had stopped again, the trembling of her legs becoming too much to easily walk straight.
> Instead she falls to her haunches and stares into the distance.
> "...truly, I have never been a part of condemning a pony like this. Not even when I ruled."
"Really?"
> "To death? Never."
> A hesitating pause, and then:
> "Once. A stallion so dark and terrible he was destroyed by the forces of love and hope united. And even then I did not... choose. Merely was a part of putting it in action."
> You can't hold back the slight snort.
> That does sound like something that would come out of Equestria.
"And what did he do, that stallion?"
> "King Sombra, who enslaved a nation to his will and broke their minds with his dark powers. There was nothing left to be spared in his dark heart."
> Again, a reflexive action - this time, flinching at her words.
> Was she saying she would execute you, if she could?
> But her tone was not the least hateful or threatening.
> Stepping around in front of her, you drop to one knee and rest a hand on her cheek.
"You know what the alternative was here, Cadance? To ensure that we don't have to face this again? The alternative was that I took those two in and had them broken until they would bow at Mocha's hooves and beg forgiveness."
> This time it is her turn to flinch, knowing full well the kind of torment that would be required to drive Comet Tail or Autumn Frost to such actions.
> "No. That - would be a living death."
"Agreed. But hand - or hoof, whatever - has been forced. Their decision to change - or not - once they're sold is theirs alone; you shouldn't bear it."
> Sighing, Cadance leans her head lightly into your hand.
> "I know. Objectively, I know."
"Then you don't have to worry about me turning into Sombra or something."
> "It's not you I'm worried about, Anonymous. You don't have the magic to do that, so ponies will always resist you."
> Her eyes rise up to lock on you, still riven with pain.
> "It's me. I'm afraid of what I'm becoming, finding excuses of a 'need' to hand out punishments that I'll move down that road."
"...trust me, Cadance, if half the things I've heard about him are true you're nowhere near him. You're too attached to the memory of your aunt."
> "Maybe."
"I mean this, Cadance. Being a ruler means to be hard choices, but nothing I've seen from you - despite how much it might frustrate me sometimes - makes me think you're in danger of that. The degree you're tearing yourself apart over this, even..."
> This time she just nods, eyes closing again.
> "Sometimes, I wish I could just throw this position down and walk away from it. Go back to being a simple pony."
> You aren't quite sure how to respond to that, so you settle for just giving her cheek a little rub.
"If it gives you any hope... if at any point before they're marked and sold off you can get through to Comet Tail or Autumn Frost, I'll hold my option open."
> "They won't listen to me. They hate me."
"But then you can tell yourself you tried everything, and they still chose."
> To this, Cadance nods again.
> "I suppose so. I suppose that is all I can do..."

> In the end, Vapor Trail had stayed the whole night with you.
> At first she had sat and listened while you told your story in halting bursts, scooting ever closer each time until she was huddled to your side.
> Even when her roommate appeared, Vapor had simply urged you up and retreated back to your own quarters where she stayed until morning.
> Dinner was long since over - the dining hall having closed while you were curled on the floor of her quarters.
> But between yours and her the rations handed out for off-hours meals, Vapor had been able to scrap together something of a dinner which she fed into you practically under threat.
> You'd eaten, but numbly - mechanically chewing and swallowing as your mind was still somewhere far away.
> After that Vapor had allowed you to curl against her on the bed, your head resting on her ribs and listening to her heart beat.
> One wing was extended over your head, cloaking you in a white blanket that took the world away as her muzzle brushed at your mane.
> Unfortunately, all of that could not keep away what was already inside of you.
> How long had you stayed like that, still in her hooves as the tears intermittently came?
> Why was this loss even weighing so hard on you?
> You'd hardened your heart to betray Cadance and five more ponies for your brother's safety.
> You'd known there would be no mercy for them.
> And again done the same for Crescent Moon.
> Chrysocolla's death, though...
> Maybe it was that it was more than a whipping - that she was gone now forever.
> Or maybe it was seeing it happen right there before you.
> Watching her raise her head - that mad glint in her eye - and squeeze the cable between her teeth.
> The awful flash and buzz, leaving only-
> A fresh spasm runs through your body, new tears leaking from your eyes.
> "Shhh..."
> Above you, Vapor Trail's muzzle again brushes across your forehead.
> This mare...
"I don't deserve you..."
> "Yes, you do."
"No, I don't. I couldn't stop her. Wasn't able to keep her alive. A pony is dead because of me..."
> "No. A pony is dead because she was a slave. Because she was driven by the suffering heaped on us every day to snap and attack one of our own, and then had no reasonable authority to turn to who she couldn't-"
> Vapor breaks off, shaking her head.
> "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laying this on you... my point is, it's your fault least of all."
"I was chasing her. I should have checked, thought about another option, been able to keep her from grabbing the cable-"
> "No. This is not your fault. At all."
> You can feel the breath of each word brushing over your coat.
> "It's Chrysocolla's fault for snapping and hurting another pony who wasn't doing anything wrong. And it's the slavers' fault for putting us into this situation. But it is not your fault."
"Why are you even supporting me...? You should hate me. I'm helping them. I'm-"
> Her only response is to wrap two legs around you - around neck and barrel - and hug tight.
> After a few moments you relax, a few more tears flowing freely out.
> Rather than run onto the already-damp bed, however, their path is interrupted by Vapor's muzzle.
> Brushing them away, she lays a soft kiss on your forehead.
> "Remember her, Thunderlane. Remember a pony driven mad by all of this, and when we're free - then we can still make sure she isn't forgotten."
> When morning comes, Vapor Trail slips away.
> You understand.
> She has her shift duties to get to, and 'caring for a wreck of a stallion not fit to be a guard' wasn't a viable excuse for missing them.
> By the time you manage to heave yourself out of bed, there wasn't any time left to grab any breakfast either.
> Instead you find yourself going through the typical morning motions in a sort of stumbling daze:
> Showering alone, every other pony having long since departed.
> Pulling on your uniform, wings and legs operating on their own.
> As if you half expected to walk into the security post an find that the hunt hadn't even begun yet.
> But there is no such luck.
> If anything. Gene looks shocked to see you walk in.
> "Thunderlane. I told you not to come back!"
"I'm sorry. I need to be here."
> "You need time to recover."
> Standing, Gene walks around from his desk to stare down at you with a concerned look.
> "I mean it, Thunderlane."
"So do I. I can't be sitting in one place doing nothing; it all just swirls around in my head. Given me something to do, even if it's just mopping floors."
> A glimmer of understanding appears in his eyes.
> "...okay. I will get you something. We have paperwork waiting always."
> Paperwork is fine.
> More than fine.
> It's not truly challenging, as you do sometimes find yourself wracked by subtle shaking.
> But not so mindless that your thoughts can sweep away to nothingness and find their way back to the memories.
> So you throw yourself into it, filling out paperwork, inventory, and more until your jaw aches and hooves are stained with ink.
> Evening approaches, and Gene leans in to the office he'd parked you in.
> "So you know, Thunderlane, Anonymous is going to be giving a speech on all this."
"I..."
> "Will be skipping it. Stay here."
> You settle back into the seat, obvious relief exuding from your posture.
> Facing Cadance - facing everypony else - right now wasn't something you could handle.
> So you remain there, filling out paperwork, even when the guards return from the speech and then head back out again.
> It is in the midst of these things, while stepping away to find more envelopes, you pause amid the hallways of the guard post - an ear cocked.
> Something had pulled your attention, a noise that was decidedly out of place in the guard post.
> A moment passes, and it comes again.
> "...down this way, okay?"
> "Thanks, Mister guard! I promise we'll stay away from them like you said!"
> The voices are relatively easy to follow.
> Turning a corner, you spot the bearers further up ahead.
> One of them you know very well - Milestone was one of your guards, a reliable unicorn.
> The other, though...
> You'd only ever seen Flurry Heart and Megan at a distance, but both of them were of course instantly recognizable.
"Mi-"
> Your voice cracks from disuse, forcing you to clear your throat.
"Milestone, what's going on here?"
> Jumping at your call, the unicorn turns - eyes wide with surprise.
> "Oh! Thunderlane, I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't know you were..."
"S'fine."
> You nod to the other two, and Milestone looks to them a moment before jumping.
> "Oh! Them! Uh, they came down with one of the servants from the house. Apparently she is supposed to be speaking to the three prisoners before they're sent off."
> "I promise we'll be safe, Mister Thunderlane!"
> Megan's tone is eager and hopeful, and she looks at you with expectant eyes.
> ...they might try to be, but one guard against three prisoners - if something did happen...
"Anyone else around to help you with this, Milestone?"
> "No; other guards are out on patrol right now."
> Damn.
"I'll go with you."
> "Thunderlane, I..."
> Stepping in closer, Milestone leans in and reduces his voice to a whisper.
> "...are you going to be okay with them?"
"I can manage."
[Choice]
"...Milestone..."
> You lift a hoof to rub your eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs from your mind.
"...you were going to let her in a cell with three rebels, two of whom are still very dangerous? How did she even get down here? Who came with her?"
> "It was Canele. And they're shackled in place, Thunderlane - it's not like she'll actually be able to get close to them. I wouldn't let her."
> One of the manor's chefs had brought Mocha down?
> Why-
> No, nevermind why.
> He was a tough cookie, but that wasn't any excuse for what had happened here.
"Miss Megan - did Master Anonymous really tell you to come here and speak to them?"
> "Uh-huh!"
> Her nod is enthusiastic and immediate, golden curls bouncing around her head.
> Flurry Heart, however...
> Well, the first word that you would use to describe the poor filly is "uncertain".
> She's clearly well out of her depth here, no doubt in part due to not having ever entered the camp before.
> But more importantly there's a moment of uncertainty when Megan responds so clearly.
"...right. So, he sent you down here, through the camp, without a single guard? Without calling in advance, or coming back here after the big speech he just gave that had everypony else away?"
> You're so skeptical, you even forget that Anonymous' official term for this place was 'facility', not 'camp'.
> "Uh... huh."
> This time, Megan does not sound nearly as certain either.
> Nor does Milestone, for whom it seems to be dawning just what he may have gotten himself into.
> Flurry...
> Poor Flurry Heart looks downright terrified.
"...so, if I went to a phone and called Master Anonymous' number right now, he'd agree that he really ordered this too?"
> "Yeeeeeah?"
> No certainty at all.
"Good. Because that's what I'm going to do. Milestone, keep her here."
> "NO!"
> Megan scurries around with surprising speed, putting herself directly in your way.
> Flurry Heart follows at a much more uncertain pace.
> "No, you shouldn't, he doesn't need to-"
"Miss Megan, what you are suggesting is not only very dangerous, but I think you are lying to me."
> "I'm... I'm not! And you have to let me speak to them!"
> "Mistress Megan-"
> Flurry Heart's interruption goes unnoticed by the little girl, but you can't miss it - it's the first time you'd actually heard the alicorn filly speak, and those two words speak volumes.
> She's worried, but not terrified.
> Along with her body language - those outsized wings make her very easy to read - you get the feeling she is scared for Megan, not scared of her.
"I do not have to do that. I have to keep you safe. That is my job as a guard."
> "Yes, you do!"
> Her shoulders bunch up, fists balling and pout forming.
> "Because - because I have to know! And because - because you're a slave and you have to do what I say!"
> The second the words leave Megan's lips it hits her exactly what she said.
> Before you can even begin to formulate a response, her face goes pale and hand slaps up to cover her mouth.
> "I... I didn't-"
"...Milestone, would you keep her here? I have a call to place."
> "Yeah, go ahead, Thunderlane."
> Just as you turn to walk away, however, Flurry Heart abruptly breaks from Megan's side to stand in your path.
> "M-Mister Thunderlane?"
> Despite her young age, the filly manages an imposing figure on account of her wings and determined expression on her face.
> Not sure what to do, you settle for simply cocking your head.
> "Please... Mistress Megan didn't mean it. You... don't have to call him-"
"Flurry Heart... I imagine you have to follow Miss Megan's orders, yes?"
> "Uh-huh."
"I have to follow Anonymous' orders. And his orders are clear: If I think there's anyone is at risk, I have to stop it. Whether or not they mean what they say."
> "I-I know. B-But she wants this very much, and... maybe you could call him after? If she is going to be in trouble any way..."
> Despite yourself, you can't help but soften your expression some.
> What had happened between this filly and the girl, to make her willing to stand up for her 'Mistress' when there was no need to?
> Seeing your uncertainty, Flurry Heart adopts an even more heartachingly hopeful expression.
> "A-And Mister Milestone said the bad ponies won't even be able to touch us. It'll be safe, right?"
"...no. I'm sorry, Flurry Heart, but I have to do this."
> And to your surprise, she stands aside.
> Stands aside with body language despondent enough to make your heart ache, but stands aside nonetheless.
> When you place the call, it only takes a brief explanation before Anonymous issues his response in four terse words:
> "I'll be right over."
> He arrives like an oncoming storm, the atmosphere seeming to grow heavy as his footsteps approach.
> Megan's head had begun to hang, until she was practically staring at the floor when Anonymous actually appears.
> Stopping, he folds his arms and sweeps his eyes across everyone present.
> "Milestone, let's start with you. What happened?"
> Despite his obvious nervousness, to his credit Milestone keeps himself mostly calm as he relates the story:
> "She arrived at the front door with Canele, Master. He was the one who actually told me that you had given the order that she should speak to the rebels, but now I, ah..."
> He glances towards Megan, who puts an arm around Flurry Heart and sniffles.
> "I didn't think anything of it then. The prisoners, they're still shackled to their cells - so she could talk to them from a distance away. I thought it was safe..."
> "Okay. And you, Thunderlane?"
"I was working here. Heard them come in. Asked where they were going, and it felt... wrong. So I went to call you, and, ah..."
> Flurry Heart fixes you with pleading eyes, but you're too drained to notice them.
"...Miss Megan said that I had to take her, because I am a slave and I have to follow orders."
> "I see."
> Taking two steps closer, Anonymous folds his arms and glares down at Megan.
> "I spoke to Canele on my way over, and he told me how you tricked him too. I am very, very dissapointed in you, Megan."
> "M'sorry..."
> "You snuck out while I had everyone away at the speech, lied, and I have told you it is not okay to try and order the ponies around just to suit yourself."
> Megan sniffles again, and Flurry Heart extends a wing up around her in return.
> Unfortunately, that only attracts Anonymous' attention to her.
> "And you - I'm very disappointed in you as well, Flurry Heart! You're supposed to look after Megan, not just go along with what she asks when it's something foolish like this!"
> Evidently feeling the sting of his words as hard as a physical blow, Flurry Heart sinks down onto her belly.
> "I-I'm sorry, M-Master..."
> "Both of you - and I mean both of you - could have been hurt very badly! What were you thinking, wandering around the camp alone?! Do you have anything to say for yourselves!"
> Unlike Flurry, Megan does not reply.
> Instead she remains head-down, hair hanging in a golden curtain around her head.
> You, too, remain silent - albeit for a different reason.
> This was a private moment between father and daughter, and you were surprised he had chosen to deal with it out here at all.
> Eventually Flurry nudges Megan with her opened wing, looking up with wide eyes.
> "Mistress Megan? I think you, um. I think you should say, what you told me."
> Anonymous raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly at his daughter.
> "Did you order Flurry Heart to help you do this?"
> "Yes!"
> You'd seen Megan's outburst coming, in the subtle hunching of her shoulders and draw of her breath.
> Even so, it makes you flinch and step back.
> "Yes, because I gotta know - why! Why'd they hurt Mocha! And you wouldn't let me go see them so I had to sneak-"
> She's glaring now, eyes alight with a fire long held back.
> "I gotta know!"
> "...right. And Flurry Heart, why did you go along with this, exactly?"
> "She was going to sneak off to do it if I said no, Master. I think I should be here, with Mistress Megan."
> Despite the absurd riskiness of what they'd done, you can't help but feel of sympathy for her.
> Flurry had, after all, been put in a situation with no easy-outs.
"If I can say - if I'd been put in the same situation, where she'd find a way over with or without me, I'd have done the same thing. Stick to her side, and try to keep her safe."
> Unspoken but clear is your implication:
> Do not punish her for this.
> "...right..."
> Anonymous rubs his forhead in frustration, nodding.
> "Yes, I can understand that, I suppose. Flurry, in the future... tell someone if she does something like this again. It'll get back up to me, and-"
> Here he shoots another glare back at Megan.
> "-I will deal with it."
> "Yes, Master."
> Evidently finding Flurry Heart suitably chastised, Anonymous' wrath finds a new target.
> "You, however, Megan - I really thought I taught you better than this. There will be a punishment for this - Milestone, you can stop looking so surprised. She doesn't get any special treatment."
> Beside you, the stallion shuffles in place and looks at his hooves.
> Anonymous turns to go, but Megan remains firmly planted in place.
> "I still wanna see them."
> The two look at each other for a long time - a silent contest of wills.
> "I suppose if you're going to be running this in time you really should see everything you'll have to deal with, but..."
> Rubbing his cheek, Anonymous turns back to look towards the cells.
> "...I'm really not sure this is the right time."
> Apparently undetered, Megan continues to glare fiercely at him.
> Flurry Heart shuffles uncertainly caught between her Master and Mistress
[Choice]
> "...alright. But I have to warn you, Megan: These ponies aren't like Flurry Heart, or any of the others you've met yet. They're going to be angry and say some hurting things. You might not get the answer you want."
> "Yeah. But I gotta know."
> "Well, I warned you. Thunderlane, Milestone, are you two up for being part of this?"
"Yes."
> And you'll have to thank him later for not singling you out, even if it's really only you he is asking.
> Milestone, after all, had little question about his readiness.
> "Okay, so: Megan, you get to talk to them. But after that, we're going to have a long talk about going around behind my back, and then figure out what I'm going to do with you."
> Though she'd managed to get what she'd been aiming for, Megan remains subdued.
> "Yes, Daddy..."
> "And when you go in there, I want you to stay well away from them. Listen to Thunderlane and Milestone, you hear?"
> "Uh-huh."
> Still looking very uncertain, Anonymous slumps in place - shoulders sagging.
> He looks to you again, a frown stamped on his features:
> "Keep a close eye on her, okay?"
"...of course."
> "Good. I'll be waiting just outside; you'll never get anything out of them if I'm around."
> After a thoughtful pause, he adds:
> "...or Comet Tail would be too busy trying to rile me up. Either way, I'll be waiting in case something goes wrong."
"Got it. Miss Megan, please follow me."
> Despite her confidence in pulling off the subterfuge to get this far, obvious tension builds in her as you step into the actual cell blocks.
> But neither does she stop - hanging at your side even as you stop in front of the cell holding the first two prisoners.
"Comet Tail and Autumn Frost are in this one, Master. Windy Winters is in the next one over."
> "Start with them, I guess."
> Anonymous had paused on the way here to step into one of the offices, and now clutched a stun-gun in his hand.
> Locks thunk, the door squeals, and the cell opens.
> Both ponies within still bore shackles, chains, and muzzles; you guess they'd been used for the speech Anonymous had made earlier.
> But an additional chain had now been linked to the cell floor, keeping either from moving far - or even from touching each other.
> They simply lay on opposite sides of the cell, sprawled on their sides as the chains (and, in Autumn Frost's case, wingbinders) kept them from taking any other position.
> Two sets of eyes regard you with a mix of anger and uncertainty when you enter, but fresh confusion comes over both prisoners' expressions when Megan appears behind you.
> Confusion turns to total befuddlement when Flurry Heart appears at her side as well, one wing still extended to circle protectively around her mistress' back.
> Megan, too, pauses - laying eyes for the first time on the ponies responsible for Mocha's injuries.
> You're forced to break the sudden pause with an order:
"Milestone, can you get their muzzles?"
> "On it."
> Stepping forward, the unicorn quickly and carefully undoes the muzzles on both ponies.
> Autumn and Comet quickly take advantage of the opportunity, stretching out jaws long held shut by tightly-bound straps.
"Miss Megan wants to talk to you."
> Your voice is grim, flat, and emotionless.
> Eyes in particular are locked on Comet Tail.
"You're to speak freely, but I don't think it's a good idea to deliberately upset her."
> The stallion snorts gently, but apparently takes the point - failing to give any snappish reply.
> Looking back, you shift to the side and nod to Megan.
"Go ahead, Miss Megan."
> She advances a few nervous steps ahead, Flurry Heart actually interposing herself between Megan and the two prisoners.
> You'd have to keep an eye on her - don't want her to try leaping into anything.
> Megan stands there, hands slowly balling into fists as she builds up the courage to speak to them.
> When it comes, it comes in a single word:
> "Why?"
> To this, both Comet Tail and Autumn do not reply - simply remaining staring at Megan with uncertain expressions.
> This, however, only drives her to ask more - a growing tremble entering both her voice and body.
> "What'd Mocha Cream ever do to you? Why'd you beat her up?"
> Their only response is to look at each other, silently debating how to respond to this interrogation.
> "M-Mocha - Mocha was a good pony. She was my friend-"
> "Kid..."
> It's the first time you'd heart Autumn Frost display real emotion in her voice, and it comes as a complete surprise.
> She sounds... tired, more than anything else.
> "Kid, you're so sheltered I don't even know where to begin."
> That obviously fails to satisfy Megan, though, and after a moment Autumn goes on.
> "I want you to just - just stand back and think about everything for a second. You see us around your home, and - I guess, that's good to you? But, if you're able, think about how it feels to all of us."
> Megan frowns, obviously not getting it.
> "I don't get it. You're good ponies and work for us, and we're good to you back. That's how it wor-"
> Autumn's bitter laughter abruptly cuts her off.
> "You're good to us? Oh, Celestia help you, kid - you'er as blind to it all as the rest of your kind. Okay, look... look, I want you to stop and think - really think for a second - about how we got here. All of us ponies."
> "You... were bought?"
> Shifting her eyes upwards to the cell ceiling as if hoping for a sign from the sky beyond, Autumn shakes her head.
> "Before that. Before we were slaves. We had homes, lives, families. I had a husband. He-"
> She tries to gesture with a wing, belatedly remembering they were bound, and instead points to Comet Tail with her muzzle.
> "He had a marefriend. We had lives. A nation. A ruler. Then we wake up one day and get hauled off in chains to be slaves... you ever been beaten, kid?"
> "Beaten? Like, at a game?"
> "...no, like - hit. You ever been hit by someone?"
> Megan nervously shuffles in place.
> "My Daddy sometimes spanks me when I've been real bad..."
> Seeming to find this absolutely hilarious, Autumn throws her head back and laughs hard.
> "Oh, so fuckin' sheltered. Spanked when you've been bad, Celestial help us... So, they drag us away from our homes, toss us in cages, and kid - we were really beaten. Whips. Rods. Boots. Whatever they had, any time we showed a sign of thinking for ourselves, of lifting our noses up out of the muck… and beatings were the least of it."
> “But… Mocha Cream didn’t hit you.”
> “I’m getting there. So then your father comes in and buys us up… and he says, I’m better than they are. But he beats us at first too, until we hit him back and get some away. Every time, over and over… he squeezes us until we can’t take it any more. Just takes every bit of dignity - you know that word, kid? It means he takes everything we were proud of. Be a good pony. Work hard. Forget where you came from. Forget your homes. Forget every pony you’ve lost.”
> “But… Mocha didn’t hurt you.”
> “Yeah, she did… she became an agent of your father. She helped him try to break us all. Stole our stuff, when we tried to mind everypony else who we all were.”
> It’s the most you’d ever heard Autumn speak and you’re actually surprised by how well she does so.
> “No! You’re lying - Daddy is nice! She wouldn’t do anything like that!”
> “Shut up and open your eyes, Megan.”
> Comet Tail had finally jumped in, heaving himself upright and turning to show a series of ugly bruises forming down his side where Anonymous had layed in with his boot.
> “You think we aren’t being hurt? That just because your father isn’t having us flogged whenever he wants, we can forget what he’s taking from us?”
> “What - what is he even taking from you?!”
> “Freedom. I just want to go home, Megan. I had a nice little house to myself on the edge of town, my eye on a couple of pretty fillies, neighbors we’d always go out and help with the harvest… I want all of that back. And if I can’t have it, then I’m not going to forget what happened to it.”
> Autumn Frost nods, even as she stays staring at the ground.
> Her shoulders shake with long-dry tears.
> “And I want my husband back. And my parents. And my colt... he'd be about your age now, if he's still alive."
> "We didn't beat Mocha Cream because she was obedient enough to survive. Tartarus' teats-"
> Comet Tail earns a glare from you for that; even if she didn't understand it, there was no reason to be swearing in front of a child.
> "-you think we haven't followed orders when we had to too? But she helped him destroy us. When we tried to fight what had happened to us, he had her come down to do his bidding to crush us. And she did it happily."
> "But I don't want to hurt you!"
> Trembling already, Megan seems near tears herself.
> "I want things to be like with me and Flurry Heart-"
> Instantly you wince as the two prisoners' eyes shift from the girl to the alicorn filly at her side.
> "Oh, kid..."
> Autumn actually sounds despairing, fresh sadness entering her voice.
> "You don't even know... kid, you know what a hostage is?"
> Damn her!
> Damn both of them!
> Should you step in, cut this off before it crushes Megan, or was the point that she needed to know-
> Too late.
> Seeing Megan's confusion, Comet Tail answers:
> "It's somepony who you hold prisoner to make somepony else do what you want, or you hurt the hostage. That's what she is, Megan - a way to make Cadance play nice."
> "No! You're lying!"
> You can hear the waver in her Megan's voice, though.
> "Cadance is a good pony now... too..."
> There's something else at play here, some dawning realization coming over Megan.
> Grinning a distinctly vengeful grin, Comet Tail pulls himself forward as far as his chains will allow.
> Megan takes a step back and Flurry moves to stand protectively in front of her, but nothing can stop Comet Tail's continuing words:
> "Seeing it now, Megan? That's how your father scares ponies into behaving right. Ask him, if you don't believe us. Ask him about Corona, too, so you understand what kind of a monster he-"
"Comet Tail, that's enough! She asked you why; this is going well beyond that."
> "Oh, now you suddenly care about someone, /murderer/?"
> The viciousness of his barb had been expected, a risk you'd taken by attracting his attention.
> Even so, it stings hard - freshly tearing open wounds that had only barely begun to heal.
"What I care about isn't relevant. Answer the question or shut up."
> "This is why, though. Because every lie her father tries to sell us, every pony silenced when they try and tell the truth-"
> Again, Comet's eyes drill into you.
> "-mean we have to act, even if it means fighting."
> He ends it there, daring you to order him muzzled again for that.
> It is Autumn Frost who breaks the silence:
> "Look, what he's trying to say is... to us? This is a war. We win, or everypony is a slave and we lose everything we had forever. Mocha Cream took her side. She didn't have to happily prance along helping Anonymous crush us. She made herself our enemy."
> Sighing a tired sigh, Autumn lays her head back down on the cell floor.
> "We've just lost this battle. He won. So he cripples us both and sells us off, knowing only a glue camp'll take us now. Keeps his hands nice and clean, while we get finished off."
> After that, nothing more is said by either of them.
> It seems to you that there isn't anything more that can be said.
> After a few moments, you nudge Megan with a wing.
"Did you want to go, Miss Megan?"
> She only just nods, and you spare a glance to Milestone - a wordless order - before you follow her out.
"There's still Windy Winters to see, if you wanted to talk to him-"
> Megan only manages to just get out the door before she takes off running, long-held-back tears finally breaking free.
> Flurry Heart gallops after her, and Anonymous looks down with shock written on his face.
> "The fuck did they do to her, Thunderlane?!"
"Didn't touch a hair on her. Didn't even yell. Just... talked."
> Cursing angrily, Anonymous stomps after her.
> Megan always used her room as her fortress, and that makes it very easy to find her.
> It also means that you have to knock before entering.
> Breaking that sanctuary would be an even greater misstep.
"Megan, honey? Can I come in?"
> No answer comes, but after a moment Flurry Heart opens the door - still staring at the floor as she does so.
> "Mistress Megan says you can come in, Master..."
> The girl herself is flopped belly-down on her bed, pillow clutched to her face, not even having bothered to remove her shoes.
> Sitting down on the bed's edge, you place a soft hand on her back and start to rub.
> You'd meant to give her something to think about for what she'd said to Thunderlane - maybe a bit of a spanking; she wasn't too old for those and it had been spectacularly bratty.
> But now...
"I shouldn't have let you see them..."
> "I had to."
> Voice muffled by the pillow she clings to, Megan still manages to talk
"Yes, but... you know, some things it's best to teach in certain ways. And through them... you know, when people are angry, they can say some very dumb things. That's why I wasn't sure if you should talk to them first..."
> "They said they're at war with you..."
"They... may see it that way, but it isn't what I want. I didn't bring all of them here to fight, I brought them here to build."
> On her opposite side, Flurry Heart had also gotten up onto the bed - nuzzling in against Megan's ribs.
> Eventually, that seems to get through to the little girl.
> Megan rolls onto her side, stroking back the alicorn's mane before abruptly throwing her arms around Flurry's neck.
> "I want... I wanna know..."
> Choking on her words, Megan opts instead to whisper something into Flurry's ear that makes the alicorn's expression go wide.
> "...I'm sorry, Mistress, but I think - I think you have to ask that."
> "Please, Flurry..."
> "I'll know it's dis-disobedience-"
> Flurry has to sound out the word slowly.
> "-but I can't ask that for you."
> Perhaps something of what you'd lectured Flurry on earlier had taken root after all.
> After a moment Megan nods, sitting up and looking you directly in the eye.
> "Daddy... is Flurry Heart a hota - hostage?"
> If you were to be absolutely honest, then yes.
> She had been from the moment you'd first mentioned her presence to Cadance all those weeks ago in that cell.
> It was the sole thing that had actually gotten Cadance to work with you, and even if now she was more agreeable it still all came back to Flurry Heart.
> And you had always tried to be honest with both Megan and the ponies alike.
> But even without having heard everything that was said to her in the cell, it's clear this forms the crux of the whole issue:
> How much could Megan trust you, or the pony you had given her?
[Choice]
"No. Flurry Heart is not and has never been a hostage."
> You manage to speak the words with such conviction it gets through to Megan, who finally releases her deathgrip on the pillow and sits up.
> Immediately taking advantage of this, you reach out and pull her into a one-armed hug against your side; on the opposite side you extend an arm to Flurry Heart who quickly slips beneath it.
"Being a hostage would imply that I'm just... using her. That I would have hurt her to spite Cadance, or to force her to obey."
> Turning to the filly, you address her directly.
"I wouldn't ever do that. You're a good pony, Flurry Heart, and I wouldn't hurt you for that."
> She manages to bring a smile to her face - small, but real and honest.
> On the other side, though, Megan shifts.
> Though she leaned in against your side, you could still feel her curling up around herself.
> "Why do they think that, then...?"
"...well, shortly before Flurry came here, Cadance lead some ponies to try and escape-"
> Here Flurry Heart shifts uncomfortably, ears twisting about to point in the direction of the camp as if she could hear her mother's distant presence.
"- I'm sure you've heard about that. When she did that and I found out..."
> Turning to the little filly, you reach down and stroke the bridge of her muzzle.
> Distracted from her more troubling thoughts, Flurry goes slightly crosseyed and even manages a squirmy giggle.
"You know, I hadn't even told your mother you were coming. I wanted it to be a surprise... a way to show her how well she'd been doing. But after that..."
> "Did you say you were going to hurt her?"
> A moment of actual annoyance flushes through you at Megan's question.
> Hadn't she been listening earlier?
> But no - she was a child questioning everything about her life.
> There was no need to be angry with her.
"No. Like I said before, I'd never threaten Flurry like that."
> "Why, then?"
"What I told Cadance is that if she kept causing problems - if I couldn't make any money with the camp - then I wouldn't be able to keep Flurry Heart."
> With a little gasp Megan escapes from beneath your arm to wrap the filly in question in her own two-armed hug.
> "No!"
"Well, she didn't want it either. She saw reason, and stopped making trouble... but when the other ponies saw that, they thought I had threatened Flurry Heart myself."
> "Oh."
> A pause, and then Megan buries her head against Flurry's barrel again; one expansive wing settles down over her head.
> "That's good. Cadance is a nice pony; I don't want her to have to make Flurry Heart go away..."
"Neither do I. In fact, I really want Flurry to stay too; that's why I had to tell Cadance. I hope you understand now, though: Ponies like those two will take anything I do and twist it into being a bad thing - like saying that makes Flurry a hostage."
> "I don't care."
> Flurry Heart had suddenly spoken up again, a freshly determined expression on her face.
> "If I'm a hos-tage or not, I mean. I'm happy. Mistress Megan is good to me, and you're a good Master. You brought me back to momma."
> Her voice drops to a softer tone, eyes briefly turning watery.
> "M-Maybe it's because I don't remember too much. And I still miss my Daddy Shining. But... I'm not hungry anymore. I have someone who cares about me. Who lets me stay with her at night so I can sleep okay."
> You shoot Megan a questioning look, but it goes unnoticed by both of them.
> Flurry Heart is too busy nuzzling Megan's head.
> "I'm glad to be Mistress Megan's pony."
"Well."
> Smiling down, you wrap both filly and girl in a wide hug.
"I'm glad you feel that way, Flurry Heart."
> And it's the truth too; your heart is honestly swelling to see how close they've quickly become.
> Unfortunately, that doesn't mean you can ignore a particular issue from before...
"But Megan - not only did you go around behind my back, but said something very, very hurtful to Thunderlane, and I think we have to deal with that."
> "Reeeeally?"
> Despite her tone, you nod.
"Sorry, sweetheart. But you saw what those two were like... some ponies just aren't reasonable, and you went sneaking out without anyone looking after you. There's a reason we have rules."
> "Daddy... please?"
"No. Especially after you were so hurtful to Thunderlane; can you imagine how Flurry Heart would feel if you yelled at her like that?"
> That finally seems to get through to Megan.
> The time-tested guilt trip wins again!
"Now. Here's what's going to happen: You're going to to go back down there and apologize to Thunderlane and Milestone, and then I'm going to spank you for talking to them like that."
> Megan gives a little whimper, but extricates herself from your arms and Flurry to stand.
> Both guard ponies are easy enough to find, having remained in place.
> They both look up when you enter, Thunderlane's head tilting curiously.
"Do the two of you have a moment?"
> "...sure, Sir."
> Standing aside, you motion Megan to enter; Flurry follows hesitantly at her heels.
"Megan, you have something to say to them?"
> "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mister Thunderlane, had to do what I said 'cause you're a slave."
"And?"
> "...and I won't do it again, 'cause that must've really hurt."
> Thunderlane looks genuinely bemused by it all.
> Pulling a chair over, you seat yourself in it and pat your knee.
> Glancing between yourself and Thunderlane, Megan hesitates - but you repeat the gesture more firmly.
> With an unhappy whine, she lowers herself over your legs.
> Even expecting it, she jumps at the first slap to land on her behind.
> It's crack echoes in the room, along with a small squeak from your daughter.
> Flurry looks on sadly as you continue to firmly spank her, but with a sort of certainty that this was right.
> Within the first few blows Megan is mewling; soon, she has begun to cry.
> Having this done in front of the ponies must be harder on her than you'd thought, as you are not striking her particularly hard.
> The two ponies are looking increasingly uncomfortable at the spectacle, as if they really hadn't expected you to actually do this.
> Eventually it does end, though, and you lift Megan off your lap to set her back on her feet.
> Placing your hands firmly on her shoulders, you bring your face close to hers and speak calmly but heavily:
"Don't ever just tell the ponies. Not only will they refuse - as you saw - but that's a very good way to make them angry, and when that happens... well, you've seen what happens."
> Tearful but silent, Megan nods.
"They aren't machines. They're thinking beings; if you want them to follow you, you give them a real reason that they can understand. That way, when it's an emergency and you need them to just follow your orders, they will trust you have a good reason. Understand?"
> "Yes, Daddy..."
"Good. I won't have any behavior like that from you; it'll make things a lot worse than a little spanking. Milestone? Would you find another guard and take my daughter back up to the house; I'd like to talk to Thunderlane."
> "Sure thing. Miss Megan, Yo- Flurry, please follow me..."
> Once they are gone, you politely shut the door and fall back into the seat.
"I do apologize for that, Thunderlane."
> "I think you made your point clear."
"It's more than that... I thought she really did know better."
> An awkward pause follows, broken only by your change of topic:
"...regardless, how are you holding up?"
> "I'm... surviving."
> Settling back on his haunches, Thunderlane drops his eyes to the floor.
"That rough?"
> "I... see her a lot. That last moment. Celestia help me, if I'd been just a second faster..."
> Choosing to ignore the oath to their deposed leader, you frown in concern.
"If you need time off - you're one of my best. You've earned it-"
> "No. I told Gene, I need to be busy or it's only worse."
"Mmm... you stood out of it when my daughter was talking to the two in the cells, though. I'm actually a little surprised."
> This time the scowl on his face is all too apparent.
> "It was a tough struggle, let me tell you. The things they said... but it wouldn't have been what you ordered if I had been jumping in every ten seconds on them."
"I suppose."
> "If I can ask, Sir... how long will they be staying?"
"A few more days, until the truck comes for them. Windy too; I've already got a good place for him."
> You rub your forehead, sighing.
"I promised Cadance some time to talk to them, but we'll have to get them marked sooner or later. Make sure it has time to heal before they're moved."
> "Marked?"
"Branded. A note on their records can be expunged, and even something etched on their hooves would fade eventually... this way, they'll always remember the mistake they made."
> Thunderlane blanches visibly beneath his dark coat, but nods.
> "I'm not sure they see it as a mistake."
"No, I don't think they do. Which honestly doesn't make me sympathetic."
> "Yes, boss. Uh, if I can ask... permission to go talk to them myself?"
"You think you can get through to them?"
> "I don't know. Maybe I just need to vent a bit. Say what I couldn't when Megan was in there. Or maybe I've gotta clear my conscience."
> His head falls a bit, wings shifting.
> "Prove they poisoned Chrysocolla. That I couldn't have done anything for her..."
"Cadance said something very similar, you know."
> Looking entirely unsurprised, Thunderlane gives a small snort.
[Choice]
"Yeah, go ahead. If you think it'll help, or just need to vent..."
> You rub the bridge of your nose, sighing.
"Honestly, I just want to get them out of here. I know I promised Cadance some time, and if you or Cadance can get through to them that's fine; I can adjust where they'll be sold. But honestly, Thunderlane? This needs to be done with. One way or another, I need them out of here."
> "...I understand."
> Grimacing, you stand.
"I've got to go get back to work, then. You let me know if you need that time for yourself, okay?"
> Thunderlane seems to relax as well, understanding that you're actually trying to do the best for him.
> "Yeah, I will."
"Thanks. I do appreciate it."
> Leaving the guard building, you at first turn back towards your house - but after a thought, decide to make a detour through the camp.
> Let them try and strike at you; though you weren't a trained fighter or anything like that, you weren't an idiot or a child either.
> And neither were they dumb.
> Even the ponies who hated you the most surely understood that attacking you would only send them to a long, painful death.
> Besides, being seen out in the camp without the overbearing presence of guards might be a good thing.
> Open up some new lines of communication with the ponies, especially after your recent admission regarding Corona.
> Indeed, as you watch them (and they watch you), it's apparent that some are viewing you in a new light.
> Not always a positive one; some looks are distinctly angered.
> But none of those ponies approach you, and for every hateful glare there's another pony who seems to be looking at you with a degree of fresh...
> Respect?
> Acceptance?
> You respond to those with nods or calls of greeting, recognizing their understanding in turn.
> A few you pause to exchange brief words of greeting or discussion, but even then you can feel a sort of enforced distance.
> They're giving you a chance, but not ready to welcome you with open arms.
 
> Or hooves, whatever.
> Yet, one familiar face does stick out at you - and she seems to be watching you with a considerate expression.
> You angle yourself towards her, stopping to squat down to a more reasonable height in front of the filly.
"Crescent Moon, yes?"
> As if you could forget her appearance; the sight of her being flogged was something long burned into your memory.
> "Yes."
> After a moment she adds more softly:
> "Master."
> Belatedly you realize there wasn't much you actually had to say to her, but fortunately Crescent steps in herself.
> "I - was at your speech. Heard it all. You really going to let Mellowheart look at that dead mare?"
"As long as she needs to satisfy herself and come to a conclusion."
> "I don't think Mellowheart likes you very much."
"Like I said at the speech, that's exactly why I'm letting her. It has to be her."
> "Yeah, I heard. But hearing, and seeing real improvement..."
"It's different, yes."
> Crescent Moon snorts softly, rolling her eyes and turning to walk away.
> But a moment later she turns back, glancing over her shoulder to check if you're following.
> So you fall in just behind her; walking slowly.
> Eventually, Crescent Moon speaks again.
> She has to crane her neck up and around a bit to talk to you, but the fact that she is leading you seems to put her some at ease.
> Or maybe it's just that she could flee if she needed to, being already stripped of a unicorn's first and foremost defensive measure.
> "The thing is, you can say you screwed up. Admit it, and say you're trying to do better. But, there's still no real punishment for you. I screw up once when I'm scared out of my wits...
> Her eyes stray back to her withers and haunches, where a few scars of her flogging still remain.
> "...I'm whipped. And I won't ever forget what that was like; it's a kind of pain you can't even imagine. And that's not even the end of it; I lose my magic too and have to be chained to the bed at night like an animal."
> The venom in her voice is real, as is the fury in her eyes.
> "We're not just 'punished', we're humiliated. You can't even imagine what it's like losing your magic. Your hands - imagine having someone just... take away your hand working. You know it's there, you can feel it, but it doesn't do anything you want it to. A whole part of you, gone."
> Shuddering softly, Crescent Moon closes her eyes.
> "That's what it is. And even when I'm working and plugged in so my horn can be used, then I have to unplug it and lose that part of myself all over again. But you screw up-"
"And I'm not even whipped. Mocha Cream is beaten instead."
> Her head jerks in a nod.
> "What happened to her wasn't right. She wasn't you, and she didn't do anything you did."
"I wish everyone could see that distinction. Disagree with me, fine... but she isn't part of this. Things were running out of control here, everything being responded to with an even bigger blow back. It had to stop somewhere."
> "Yes. But I don't like you. You're a slaver. And just admitting what you did to Corona doesn't mean it's better."
> Halting in place, Crescent Moon's eyes close as she speaks more softly:
> "If you wanted it to stop earlier, why didn't you stop it when they took me up there on that stage and flogged me."
> You... do not have an easy answer for that.
> Not one that she will accept, anyhow; you doubt she gives a damn about the kind of problems that would have come down on the entire camp if you hadn't had her punished.
"...no answer I can give will satisfy you, Crescent Moon, and I can't change what was done anyhow. But that doesn't mean I can't show you now either."
> Again dropping into a squat, you let her see you expression:
> Open and honest, with no emotion held back.
"You showed that even after what happened to you, you're still reasonable. I think I'd be an idiot not to recognize that... and I think it means there's no need for you - or the others in your situation - to be chained in at night."
> Crescent Moon considers you through narrowed eyes, as if searching for a catch or trap.
> "Others in my situation?"
"Like you said, ponies who fought out of fear rather than hatred. You've earned that much, and I think we can maybe see about setting your horn limiter to a milder setting as well."
> "You know I'm not going to suddenly like you just because you're undoing what you did to us anyhow. You're still a slaver. You still had me whipped, even after I begged."
"Yes, I know."
> And the sadness in your voice is very real.
"Like I said, I'm not trying to undo the past. I'm not expecting to be loved. I'm expecting that you'll see I'm listening to you too."
> "Well..."
> Eyes dropping to the ground, Crescent paws at the asphalt with a hoof - her nostrils flaring as she snorts and flicks her tail.
> "...well, I guess I can do that much."
 
> To his credit, Anonymous gives you the time he'd promised to try and get through to the two emaining rebels.
> What actually surprised you more was how he put the time to use - often being seen out and about in the camp, speaking to ponies and actually making himself seen.
> It would do him good, you judge, especially after that speech.
> Admitting the very existence of the mare and what he had done to her had tipped the balance in the favor of reason and peace.
> Re-kindled an acceptance that things might possibly be getting better.
> Come the next Wednesday, however, when he appears at your office door with a knock you know there's only one reason why he will have come.
> Setting the ledger you had been working on aside, you beckon him to enter.
"Anonymous. Please, sit down."
> "Thanks, though I'll stay standing."
> He grins slightly, motioning around the room.
> "Furniture's a bit undersized."
"Ah, well, yes..."
> "It's fine, Cadance."
> He glances around the room, eyes again pausing on the small portrait of Shining Armor that now resided on your desk.
> Tracking his gaze, you frown.
"Something an issue?"
> "No..."
> Shaking his head, Anonymous sighs.
> In the awkward pause that follows, he adds:
> "Flurry's been doing well with Sunburst's lessons, apparently. I've sat in on a few more, and he's already making a bit of progress... their bond is strong, even after all this time."
"...I'm glad."
> Your voice tells the truth of your emotions, though, and a moment later your head falls and eyes drop to the front edge of the table so that you do not have to see your husband's face.
> Yet, after a moment there's a soft touch at your cheek:
> Anonymous raising your head with a gentle hand, a concerned expression on his face.
> "You know, your time away from her will be over soon. After that, any time she isn't on duty - or maybe even when she is..."
> The mere thought of seeing your daughter again at whatever time you choose is enough to draw a soft nicker from your lips, eyes half-closing and ears perking up.
> "...guess you would like that, huh?"
"Do I need to say it?"
> "No, I guess not."
"Good."
> Yet, your answer once again leaves a supremely painful silence in its wake.
> With a groan, Anonymous breaks it - rocking back on his heels to lean against a wall with folded arms.
> "I guess we should both stop beating around the bush... you know what I'm here."
"Yes."
> Your voice is whisper soft, even moreso than it had been before - ears falling back down.
> "I can't keep them waiting forever. We're going to have to get them marked, clipped, and implanted with enough time to make sure they're healing before the truck arrives for them."
> When you don't respond, he asks in a softer tone:
> "Have you had any luck with them?"
"No."
> The admission feels all at once like a lifting of a weight from your shoulders, and a twisting of your heart at what is effectively a final condemnation.
"I've visited them several times, and... nothing. Their hearts are closed. I've lost them."
> "It's not your fault, Cadance. They chose what they did; I don't think you'd want to control their minds anyhow."
> You want to disagree, but not having yet another argument with him right now is something you want even more.
> Seeming to sense this, Anonymous pushes off the wall and at last takes up your offer to sit down - despite how it brings his knees uncomfortably far up.
> "Listen, I just wanted you to know, before I do anything."
"I... appreciate it."
> The three words barely seem like an appropriate response.
> "If you want to be there, or anything..."
> Swallowing your the growing lump in your throat, you nod.
"Yes. I would. I'm sorry, you've been offering me a great deal and I've just been... wallowing. Let me be there; in the end, I am still supposed to be responsible for all these ponies."
> With a nod, Anonymous rises.
> "Thought you might. And if it'll settle your mind that I'm not trying to slip in more unnecessary cruelty."
> It hadn't been a thought, but that he's thinking it over gives you another reason to believe he's actually telling the truth.
> He returns not to the guard building, but to the medical clinic.
> There, in one of the larger rooms, two metal frames had been set up:
> Half skeleton and half body-fitting cage, their cold beams held the two ponies locked within firmly in place - straps and buckles securing them for what is to come.
> Around the perimeter of the room stood three guards - two ponies and a human - all looking equally uncomfortable with what was going to happen.
> Dilligently setting up his tools on a nearby table was one of the few human doctors in the camp.
> Apparently this task wasn't to be trusted to a pony.
> Autumn Frost and Comet Tail were already glaring at anyone in their line of sight, but the moment you appear they spear you with an especially fierce glare.
> Nothing is said, though, as both are also securely muzzled once more - their heads additionally locked in the metal grip of the frames to keep them from moving.
> You refuse to bow to it, though, simply moving to a position at the side of the room.
> Anonymous stops beside you, his arms folded.
> "This is everyone. Let's get this over with."
> A section of hair, you see, had already been shaved out around Comet Tail's horn.
> This the doctor approaches hypodermic in hand, and begins making small injections at the base of the bony spiral.
> Leaning over, you murmur to Anonymous:
"Anesthetic?"
> "Yes, local. No need for full body for a procedure this minor."
"Minor?"
> Your skeptical tone must have carried, as Anonymous looks down and places a reassuring hand on your withers.
> "This is one of the more basic inhibitors; it's just going to be inserted under the skin, around the horn's base. It doesn't require brain surgery."
> A more basic inhibitor - that would give very little fine control over Comet's magic, only a few basic options if he was lucky.
> One that would probably only ever be left on its highest setting, denying the stallion a sense he'd taken for granted from birth.
> Your thoughts must have also carried; Anonymous shrugs lightly and adds:
> "I'm not going to waste a full surgical suite and an expensive, full-spectrum implant on him. If he does well, whoever buys him can put that in."
> As you watch the doctor carefully opens a tiny incision in Comet Tail's skin.
> The stallion is trembling, but not in pain - in fury, or perhaps fear, at what is being done to him.
> Not that you blame him.
> This was taking away a sense as core to him as voice or sight.
> Stepping away, the doctor returns with the inhibitor itself, loaded in a vicious syringe-like machine.
> Placed against the incision he had just made, it carefully guides the implant in - curling it around the base of the horn.
> While this is happens, Comet's expression is changes too:
> Anger draining away to be replaced with fear, then horror - a trembling beginning that makes you realize the full reason for the frame.
> If he were not locked into it, the doctor's job would be near impossible.
> At last it is over.
> The injection device is drawn away, and the incision carefully closed up.
> Comet Tail, however, does not return to lucidity:
> His eyes have gone glassy, straps holding him creaking against the continuing shivering and a sort of helpless mewling coming from the muzzle.
> Even after what he had done, you still feel a pang of sympathy for the stallion.
> In the other frame, Autumn Frost is eyeing him with pity in her gaze.
> The doctor's work with her takes far less time:
> He does not even release her wings from their straps on the frame, simply shearing through her primary feathers with a shears and soft snip-snip-snip.
> Sections of ivory-white feather fall to the floor, looking like the namesake frost.
> The sudden snap-hiss of the blowtorch is so rapid that you can't help but jump a bit.
> Unnoticed, Anonymous had stepped away and was now heating a pair of brands by the blue gas flame
> A leaden sense in your belly only grows stronger.
> Rearing up to place a hoof on the table and lift your head to Anonymous' height, you lean in and whisper:
"Anonymous, are you -?"
> "Yes."
> His voice is dull as well, not filled with grim satisfaction or fury as you'd expected.
> Even so...
"I thought no cruelty? I thought this wasn't about revenge?"
> "It isn't. I just want to see it done with."
"Then why are you doing it?"
> He considers for a moment, and then holds the brand's handle out to you.
> "I don't have to. You do it, if it'll settle your mind."
[Choice]
> Reaching up with a hoof, you push his hand back with a shake of your head.
"I... trust you. I will be watching, though. If I think that you are... taking personal enjoyment of this, I will step in."
> That comes out a bit harder then you'd meant it to, but gets your point across.
> Backing up, you drop back down onto all four hooves - wings rustling nervously.
> How were you so calm right now, watching Anonymous play the blowtorch back and forth across the pieces of steel until a rose-red hue began to flicker from within?
> So detached from what was about to happen?
> Maybe you were trying to tell yourself there wasn't anything you could do.
> Because it made it easier to shift blame off if you could become a helpless bystander.
> Judging the irons suitably heated, Anonymous turns to face the captives.
> Two are held in his hands:
> One terminated in a pair of letters, 'C D' - Chronically Disobedient.
> The other, in a glyph supposedly resembling a pair of biting jaws - the symbol for a slave responsible for significant violence.
> You'd only rarely seen either among Anonymous' stock; he did not tend to buy ponies with either such issues, after all.
> But you knew of them.
> You watch him travel across the room a detached state of mind - almost as if you were viewing the happenings in a dream, or on a screen.
> It is not what your would have ordered.
> To say the least.
> But it is what Anonymous had declared, and despite every chance you'd given them neither Autumn Frost nor Comet Tail had given you any leverage to avoid it.
> Could you do something to make it less a torture?
> Numbly your mind sorts through the options available:
> A stunning spell, or something to take their mind away from what was happening to them?
> You know certain... tricks in those respects.
> Order the doctor to use an anesthetic?
> Would an anesthetic even do anything for that kind of trauma?
> Could you just order the doctor to do the branding altogether?
> Or maybe-
> It all happened too fast, while your mind was still running in circles.
> He'd proceeded to Autumn Frost first; given Comet Tail's continuous efforts to provoke you can't help but wonder if this was Anonymous' way of telling you he is avoiding the obvious target.
> Your throat threatens to close up as Anonymous nears the mare.
> With every step, you can see her defenses crumbling.
> Nostrils flaring, sides heaving as much as the frame and straps she was secured into would allow, panic turning to terror as she begins to feel the heat radiating from the irons.
> Little noises of emerge from her throat, pupils shrunken down to pinpoints and tail lashing in the only movement she could really make.
> At the last second her eyes fall on you, wordlessly begging for mercy.
> You step forward, raising a hoof-
> And by then it is done.
> A patch of Autumn's coat had been shaved on her withers, just above the shoulder.
> Below the terminus of her mane, but not so far down that she could ever hope to cover it with her wings - not without perpetually holding them awkwardly, obviously, and painfully high.
> It is to this Anonymous presses the irons - one after another.
> What surprises you is how rapid it is.
> Half of you had expected - based perhaps on some foalhood specters of villains from fantasy - for it to be held there as the flesh roasted.
> But it is there only for a second, a hiss and puff of smoke before he retracts the first and applies the other.
> That is enough; the frame creaks as Autumn spasms in it - a keening squeal ripped from her throat before is sputters out in a strangled gasp.
> Your hoof falls to the floor.
> Too late.
> She had made her choice; it had been too late the moment you had stepped into the room.
> Anonymous ignores all of this, simply stepping away and wordlessly returning to the torch.
> Then the smell hits you.
> A wretched, sickly burning smell; not the cooking of meat - you'd smelled that often enough in your time as a slave to become inured to it - but a far worse odor that sends your stomach plunging.
> So, to, does it hit Comet Tail.
> His nostrils flare as the awful stench strikes, finally snapping him from the post-implantation daze.
> Eyes rolling, he fixes the only one he can on Autumn - a tear running down his cheek.
> Then they swing to you, and any hope you'd had to even be able to spare him is erased.
> Bitter, bitter fury fills those eyes.
> They stay locked on you until Anonymous again sets down the torch and approaches Comet Tail.
> As the cherry-glowing irons near him, Comet too begins to fear - breath starting to come ever faster, and-
"Stop."
> Everyone does; Anonymous even takes a step back to look questioningly at you.
> It's understandable - he had not given any sign of taking any pleasure or revenge in this.
> Stepping forward, you light your horn and gently take the iron from his grasp.
> But not to throw it away.
> Instead you approach Comet Tail, whose eyes are now locked on you with a mix of confusion and fear.
> Leaning in to his head, you whispering:
"I'm sorry. I tried; I'm so sorry."
> A flare of your horn, and his eyes go glassy - the gentle nudge of magic on his mind pushing him into back into the daze.
> The press of the iron against your magic as it meets his flesh is as powerful as a hammer-blow against your skull.
> Trying to spare an absolute bare minimum of thought to what you do, you keep it there just long enough as Anonymous had before ripping the iron away.
> As soon as your horn leaves his head, Comet's eyes refocus and he gasps - lungs once again working - but the worst is already passed.
> You think of none of this, though; you are already rushing for the door.
> That horrifying, wrenching stench had again hit your nose, and the full impact of what you'd done was no longer deniable.
> In a moment you were gone from the room - the brand, had it ended up placed back on the table?
> You're rather beyond caring.
> At least you manage to hold back the retching until you reach another open clinic room, slamming the door shut behind you and sinking onto the floor to retch.
> What had you done?
> How?
> It - it was a mercy, right?
> To cloud his mind before doing that?
> No matter what Comet Tail had done, he'd also been so traumatized by the inhibitor being implanted already.
> Did he need to be lucid when he was branded too?
> You shudder, forehead going to rest against the floor.
> The vinyl tiling is pleasantly cool against your horn and coat, but after a moment all it does is summon the image of Comet Tail - his eyes unfocused and panicked as the implant takes affect.
> Autumn Frost's scream, echoes in your ears.
> What was it about this that hurt you so badly?
> You'd whipped ponies, and certainly some of those had certainly left scars that would take many years to heal if at all.
> What was different about this?
> Was it that it was supposed to forever mark them as slaves, define them by their degree of obedience?
> Or was it-
> "Cadance?"
> A gentle touch of a hand on your back.
> You want to snap at him.
> To scream and rant and rage at the man who'd caused you to brand - to brand! - another pony.
> But all that comes out are four bitter words:
"What do you want?"
> He doesn't answer, instead rising from where he had crouched beside you.
> After a moment, however, he returns - this time with a plastic cup of water.
> "Drink."
"Go away. I can't deal with you-"
> "Drink it."
> His tone is heavy and forceful, brooking no argument.
> Whipping your head back up, you grab the cup and down its contents.
> The water tastes like ash on your tongue.
> Now emptied, the cup crumples to a tiny plastic ball under your magic.
> And yet-
> Something about the simple action had focused you.
> Brought your whirling thoughts back together.
> Anonymous, now seated on the floor beside you, nods approvingly.
> "There. Now, talk to me."
> It takes another moment to bring your thoughts in line.
"I am a monster. And a failure."
> "No. You aren't. You are making the hard choices that have to be made."
"Do not patronize me!"
> Driving a hoof against the floor, you spread your wings - nearly knocking him aside in the process - in an unexpected display of anger and whip your head about angrily.
> "I'm not. I'm telling the truth. None of this is caused by you."
"Yes, it is! It's my talent, Anonymous! My talent, my destiny, to spread love wherever I go! And I tried, I tried to hard to open them up, to find something they could love - some reason to be spared this no matter what it cost..."
> You're shaking now, though whether in pain or in fury you don't know.
> Emotions long tamped down starting to trickle up again.
> "And there was nothing to be found, I take it."
"Nothing I could give. I've had ponies angry at me before, but I've never - never lost one like this."
> "You did everything you could, Cadance."
> Anonymous snorts softly, resting back on his elbows.
> "If anything, the blame is with me for causing this all. You did all you could, right up until the end."
"No, I didn't. I - I could have -"
> "Could have what, Cadance?"
> And you can hear the frustration in his voice too.
> "I wish they hadn't done what they did too. But slaves or not, they made their choices. I mean, what were you supposed to do? Mind-control them? Force them to grovel that way?"
> Only barely do you manage to hide your look of disgust and shock, turning away to keep him from seeing it.
> Yes.
> You could have.
> Broken the one rule you'd kept since you gained your horn, mark, and magic.
> Not merely awoken and expanded the love they might have already felt in their heart, but twisted and pulled until an entirely new love - a sickly, forced thing - existed.
> Made them true slaves - mind, body, and heart.
> Spared them this fate, but at such terrible a cost.
> Could you even admit that power to Anonymous?
> Let him see the full extent of what you could do?
> It was something you'd carefully hidden from every interrogator who attempted to break you.
> A lie practiced since you were little older than a filly.
> Most of Equestria had not even known.
> Celestia, your husband, Twilight...
> Not even Sunburst.
> But without it, how would Anonymous ever hope to understand what you felt?
[Choice]
> ...no, you can't tell him.
> Not about this.
> Anonymous may be the most agreeable slaver you've ever met - an oxymoron if there ever was one - but he was not that deeply trusted.
> This very incident being an exact demonstration of why.
> The feelings that drove him may have been understandable, but ponies had just been branded.
> Marked with hot irons for the rest of their lives.
> And you had been made part of it.
> What would happen if something else like this occurred again?
> Would he force you to use your magic to 'correct' them?
> If once, why not again?
> Was there anything keeping him from deciding to hold Flurry Heart's fate over your head unless you made the ponies here truly love him?
> From concluding that your hiding this from him was already enough of a crime to part you from her again?
> A nightmarish vision forces its way into your mind:
> Of an endless line of ponies marching past, your horn flickering and their faces turning to awestruck joy as their minds were filled with true love for their owner.
> Of being made to teach other ponies the spells to nudge minds, a self-propagating wave of slaves forever trapped believing that they love serving with all their heart.
> That they are blessed to be slaves.
> Bile rising, you turn your head away and squeeze your eyes shut.
> No.
> So long as Anonymous had even a drop of belief that what he did was in any way right or just, you could never reveal this to him.
> Never allow him to gain any inkling of the true scale of your power.
> "Cadance?"
"Anonymous... you can not understand. You have, by your own admission, never been a true leader or ruler. And you have never been a slave - never lost control of everything you had, all your subjects you cared for and family who cared for you taken."
> Sinking down to your belly, you let your wings droop out to either side and spread on the floor.
"I have tried to spare them anything I can... Held back every cruelty, because I do not want to be a monster holding a lash. But all that's done is leave me the one torturing them instead."
> Again Anonymous' hand lays against your back.
> This time, however, you can feel your hackles rise against it.
> "You're no monster, Cadance. You do what you have to, nothing more."
"Auntie Celestia would still be disgusted with me. They call me 'Your Highness', but I'm no princess. A princess wouldn't do this."
> "Cadance, listen to me. A monster is someone who takes joy in doing this. In causing pain."
"Oh, like you?!"
> The words had snapped out without warning, and a second later you freeze - tensing at the expectation of a sharp response for a line being crossed.
> "...at times, yes, I have been."
> His hand remains still, though, gently resting on your back.
> "I don't deny for a second that I have done some truly monstrous things. And for all that I argue with at times... I've never once seen you enjoy doing any of this."
"That doesn't change the reality of what I did."
> "No, but neither does it change the reality of how you did it - only as a last resort."
"I wish I hadn't."
> "I wish they hadn't beat Mocha. I wish they'd given me some sign of regret. But things are as they are."
> No, they aren't.
> In the end, he still held you captive.
> If not for that, none of this would have happened.
"Anonymous, you can say that. But it doesn't change that I have just - just -"
> You can't even bring yourself to say it, a sputtered gasp coming out instead.
> Simply nodding, Anonymous forces himself to sit back up.
> "Would you like some time alone, or should I stay here?"
"I - I think some time alone would be appreciated. To think about what I just did."
> "Okay. But I want you to remember, Cadance. You're more than this. For the pain that you've just inflicted, how many more will find this place a stable and safe home?"
> No answer is forthcoming, as you simply have none to give.
> Anonymous, seeing that, just sighs and adds more softly:
> "It's how I deal with a lot of this. As painful as so much of it can be, the rewards of still pushing forward are so much greater."
> Easy for him to say.
> He has not violated his very purpose and destiny, nor does being part of slavery apparently violate any of his social inhibitions.
"I will keep it in mind. But, as I said, I think right now I just need time to think."
 
> When the rumors had first started to swirl about the camp, you'd found them impossible - unbelievable.
> Cadance, being part of actually branding a pony?
> Sure, some had said she had fled the room accompanied by the scent of seared flesh.
> But even if that was true, it didn't mean she had been responsible for it - right?
> It seemed to go well beyond hyperbole, but you hadn't been there in the medical suite building with them that day.
> At last you'd given in, and taken the final option available to you:
> Questioning the other guards who had been present.
> The story they'd told was all at once vastly more understandable and every bit the confirmation of the fears you hadn't even dared entertain.
> Yes, it was utterly understandable that Cadance would step in to spare the unicorn further torment.
> All the same, though...
> Branding.
> It was the kind of thing which was whispered about between slaves.
> Marked as livestock or criminals for the rest of their lives.
> Utterly forbidden in Equestria since many long centuries ago.
> All these thoughts are still swirling on your mind as you march down the cell block, coming to the last door.
> Lock buzzing and hinges squealing, it opens to reveal the last stallion of the trio of prisoners resting in the cell beyond.
> Windy Winters wore no shackles and was not chained to his cell; the sole indication of his captivity is the collar anchored around his throat.
> Other hints of his better treatment abounded as well:
> An empty food tray lay in the corner of his cell, and the bed he rested on was relatively well-appointed with blanket and pillow.
> A few spare sheets of paper rest on the ground, littered with scribbled mouthwriting.
> It was a cell, yes.
> But not a torment.
> Head rising, Windy blinks owlishly once before finally settling his gaze on you.
> "It's time?"
"Yes. Time to go."
> Heaving himself up, the stallion walks to the doorway.
> He seems calm, having apparently come to terms with the fate he is being sent to.
"I'm sorry, but I have to..."
> Lifting a wing, you unfold the rope lead tucked beneath it - taking the clip at the end in your mouth.
> Windy rolls his head back without protest, exposing his neck and collar.
> Immediately after snapping the lead into place you take a hard step back, a dirty taste permeating your mouth.
> "Do you need to bind my wings as well?"
"Are you going to try and fly away?"
> "No."
"Then I don't."
> Thankfully.
> Stepping out of the cell doorway, Windy Winters follows you closely towards the exit.
> Only for the briefest moment does he pause, eyes locked on the closed cell door his two one-time friends were behind.
"Thinking about them?"
> "Yes."
> Ripping his eyes away, Windy treads on.
> For a moment you consider asking if he'd like to pass on a final message to them but ultimately decide against it.
> If he wanted to do that, he could ask.
> Though you doubted he would; any relationship they had would long since be over.
> Out of the guard post you take him, now accompanied by a second human security officer.
> He is utterly unneeded, though, as while ponies stop to watch you cross the grounds up to Anonymous' house none of them try to approach.
> Once inside, you can't help but notice that Windy Winters is somewhat distracted by the fresh sights of the manor's opulence.
> It is, you suppose, something that you'd become inured to while for him the stark comparison to the camp's basic measures was a fresh shock.
> You let him take the time to look, and eventually Windy mostly overcomes it.
> The final destination intended for the two of you is a familiar office meeting room; on entering, however, you find only Anonymous seated at the table within.
> "Thunderlane, Windy - come in. I think everyone else should be arriving shortly, so we can get started."
> His tone is grim, flat, and businesslike.
> Everyone else?
> That must mean, you decide while leading Windy off to the side of the room, that more than just whoever was coming to pick up Windy would be here.
> While you were content to sit in place the collared and leashed stallion you'd lead in is rather antsier.
> Shifting from hoof to hoof and wings shuffling, his eyes keep snapping back to Anonymous.
> Despite their previous interaction, he was clearly afraid of his owner.
> Afraid of what might be done to him.
> Idly you wonder if word of Autumn Frost and Comet Tail's fate had reached-
> Thoughts are interrupted by the door opening and confirming your earlier assumption when Cadance enters through it.
> The moment she steps in, however, it becomes clear that whatever had happened between her and Anonymous that day it was far from over in her mind.
> She freezes, almost seeming to recoil back a step at the sight of him, before forcing herself forward again into the room.
> Anonymous for his part makes no mention of it, instead looking around with a nod.
> "Alright. That's the last. I'll get straight to the point here: I was going to do this outside, in public, for the sake of it being known - but honestly, this could go bad anyhow and we don't need another incident. This will have to do. Windy, I promised I'd see you to a good place. To keep my word I've asked the one who'll be taking you to come out here and pick you up. Gregory, come in?"
> Something about the name is vaguely familiar, but it is Cadance who gasps in surprise at the enormous, broad man who enters next.
> The two are clearly familiar, as he returns a grin to her.
> "Cadance, 'lo again. Good to see you so soon."
> Before she can answer, Windy pipes up:
> "Y-Yo - Miss Cadance? Do you know this man?"
> "Yes, actually..."
> The familiarity finally clicks, and you blurt out:
"You were at the dinner."
> Nodding in agreement, Cadance adds:
> "He stood up for me when someone... took the wrong implications from what I was wearing."
> "Yes. Mr. Barker runs an operation training ponies to make the most out of their talents; he is also a respectable voice when it comes to treating his ponies well - as Cadance will attest to."
> "I can. Gregory... was respectful to me, and asked me for the clear details of how ponies are treated here. He wanted them to be treated... decently."
> Digesting this new information, Windy Winters manages only an uncertain few words:
> "I'm going to be... trained?"
> Windy Winters shifts back when Gregory approaches him, no doubt on account of the man's considerable bulk.
> Seeing this, though, Gregory drops to one knee and holds out a hand to which Windy tentatively extends a hoof.
> "Yes. I've already looked over your profile, and Anonymous told me what you got mixed up in. I think there's still a decent pony in there, though, and more importantly one who could be taught to make even more of their talent."
> Standing, Anonymous moves to Windy's side as well; you back off a bit, so as not to leave the nervous stallion feeling boxed in.
> "I can't speak to what is coming. But... this much, at least you've earned. And what I said before holds true; if you manage to somehow come back here, you'll be given a second chance."
> Summoning all his strength, Windy Winters swallows hard and nods.
> "Thank you. I - believe you. And I swear, I won't waste this chance."
> "Good."
> "B-Before I go, though... there's one thing..."
> Windy lifts a wing, and a folded sheet of paper flutters out from beneath.
> This he carefully pins with a hoof; you can see the messy hoofwriting scrawled on it.
> "Can one of you g-give this to Mocha Cream? It's - a letter. I have to... I want her to..."
> Anonymous gently takes the letter from him, sighing.
> "I can't force her to read it, but I will pass it on."
> "Thank you, Sir."
> Spontaneously dropping into a bow, Windy holds that post for a moment - a single tear running down his cheek.
> Then he rises, looks up to Gregory, and swallows again.
> "I'm ready."
> "Wait!"
> The high, childish voice catches everyone by surprise.
> No one had noticed Megan enter, but enter she had - fists curled into little balls.
> When no one immediately halts her, she approaches the little knot of people.
> "You said I can talk to them all. Before he goes, I want to talk to him too."
> Gregory lifts an eyebrow in Anonymous' direction, who in turns rubs his chin.
> "...unless you have any objections?"
> "None at all."
> His tone suggests he'll be questioning Anonymous about that later, though.
> "Alright."
> Motioning his daughter forwards, your owner steps back to give her room.
> "Ask away, Megan."
> Windy looks around the room helplessly - from Cadance, to his current owner, to his future one, then back to Anonymous.
> There he stays, seeming to silently beg for advice on what to do.
> You can sympathize; the stallion is caught between giving a meaningful answer and appearing ungrateful just after he was spared, in front of the one who is sparing him.
> Seeing what is happening, though, Anonymous motions him to go on:
> "It's okay, Windy. She knows what to expect, and I'm sure Gregory'll understand."
> "O-Okay..."
> Finally he looks back at Megan.
> Behind her, peering through the cracked door she had entered through, you spot two teal eyes.
> If not for the fact that they were at vastly different heights, you might have even been tricked into thinking they were one ponies' eyes; as is, you guess Sunburst and Flurry Heart must have just finished up her lessons.
> Neither Windy Winters nor Megan wants to speak, though, and both awkwardly stare at each other as the seconds tick by until at last she blurts out:
> "Why? Why'd you hurt her? I don't get it; I asked Autumn and Comet and they just told me Daddy was a bad person but I know he's good to you and you were good ponies too so I just don't get WHY!"
> The cluttered jumble of words spills out once it begins, pouring fourth until she is left shaking.
> After another second of hesitation, Windy starts to speak:
> "I've always been a pony who wanted to move around. Mother said even when I was a colt I'd always be squirming or buzzing around, and I left home at a pretty young age. I wanted to see the rest of the world, to get out there and make my own path. Just going place to place, never staying too long... When I was captured, I'd even been hiding out a while - just staying out in the middle of nowhere, where I knew everything but no one else did. The longer I was a slave, the more scared I got. I'd never be able to travel again, I'd lose my sky, I'd become a - a stupid simple farm animal!"
> At some point Megan had, despite Anonymous' warning, begun to edge close to him again.
> Seeing this, Windy carefully drops down to his belly and then rolls to his side - a clear sign that he is not intending to make any sudden moves.
> "Same thing, every day, days after weeks after months... the sky was always there, just out of reach. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair to me, or to anypony else... we'd all been taken away from our homes. We'd lost our lives. You might be too young to remember a time without us, but we all remember before we were slaves. When we had lives of our own. When we had choice. Would you go quietly if someone tried to take you from your father and your home?"
> Megan, however, simply looks confused:
> "But... Daddy didn't take you anywhere. He's good to you. I'm goo-"
> She glances back to the door and unconsciously rubs her rear end.
> "-try to be good. And you're good ponies. Why did you - why hurt Mocha?"
> From the way she is just repeating her earlier lines, it's obvious Megan just isn't getting it.
> Windy is patient, though:
> "Your father is better to us than some others would be, yes, but we're still trapped. We're still prisoners in a cage with an open sky. When I came here, if we tried to leave it'd be the whip or worse. If we didn't work, the same. Even if we stayed out too late..."
> "We don't do that anymore."
> Anonymous' voice is cold, hard, and firm; you got the feeling despite his authorization for Windy to speak his mind, the human was none to happy about what was being said.
> Flinching in instinctive fear, Windy goes on anyhow:
> "No, you don't - but ponies remember, and they think the only reason it stopped is because we got mad enough to try running anyway... So they keep getting mad. And it still feels like you're trying to make us forget about ever being free... even with kindness."
> "I still don't get it. You were angry... but why hurt /Mocha/?"
> The plaintive question, repeated a third time by Megan, finally makes sense.
> She wasn't asking why he'd been upset anymore, but why he'd vented his anger there.
> Lowering his head back down, Windy sighs.
> "That... was my fault. I felt abandoned. Left alone. Cadance - we thought Cadance had left us to spare her daughter. I started talking to Comet Tail. He started talking to me. Introduced me to the others. Had ideas about how we could make it clear we still weren't broken. We still had fight. Just... pushing her around a bit."
> Windy swallows hard, a small whinny still working its way up out of his throat.
> "When I saw how hard they were hitting her, I - I knew. They didn't want freedom, they wanted to hurt. To lash out. Revenge, you know what that means?"
> "Yeah..."
> Megan's voice is soft, filled with unspoken hurt.
> So too is the stallion's, and fresh tears are beginning to crowd his eyes.
> "I knew my mistake. So I ran. I ran, and then your father came on the speaker and he was so angry... I knew they must've hurt her so much worse. Please, please believe me - I didn't want her to be hurt like that. I just wanted her to know we were still angry, so she would tell your father and he would know."
> Apparently finding himself unable to bear looking at the hurt expression on the young girl's face, Windy turns his head from her entirely.
> "Celestia help me, I wish I could go back and stop myself. Stop all of them. Mocha didn't deserve it..."
> Facing away as he is and with his mind far away, he can't see the little hand that reach out to gently touch the side of his muzzle.
> He can feel it, though - starting with a soft nicker.
> Anonymous, too, jumps; he seems ready to step between the stallion and his daughter in an instant.
> But he does not, and a moment later it is clear Windy Winters has no ill intentions towards his daughter.
> "You're still a good pony, Windy. Inside, I think you are."
> "Thank you."
> Head coming back around, he presses his muzzle into her hand - voice shaky.
> "I don't know if I can be, though."
> "You are. I'll tell Mocha, when she comes back. So she'll know, if you come back too."
> Unable to reach the right words, Windy simply settles for a heartfelt, thankful smile.
> Then he stands again, looking up to Gregory.
> "If I can, I think I would like to go now."
> "...yes. Right, then - let me get your lead..."
> In a few moments he is gone; a few moments more and the footsteps and hoofsteps fade.
> Everyone remaining is silent.
> Cadance has let her mask slip, a tortured expression now on her face.
> Megan looks sorrowful, though not as deeply hurt as the alicorn.
> Anonymous...
> His expression is also surprisingly pained.
> Despite what Windy had done, there were obviously some confused feelings there.
> Eventually he stirs, looks around the room, and sighs.
> "Thunderlane... go get Sunburst and Flurry, would you?"
> So, he'd noticed the none-to-stealthy observes too.
> Neither is right outside the door anymore, but you find both sitting next to each other a short distance down the hall.
> Sunburst looks up as you approach, adjusting his glasses with a flicker of his horn.
"Anonymous wants to see you."
> "I don't think they saw us. When they were going, I mean-"
"It's... not about that. I don't think. Come on."
> You're actually the second back into the room - Flurry Heart had galloped ahead, all but leaping into her mother's embrace.
> Following at a more sedate pace, Sunburst nudges the door shut behind him.
> In your absence, Anonymous had sunk into one of the chairs; he hunches over as if a great weight was resting on his shoulder.
> "...so. Flurry, Sunburst, I imagine the two of you heard most of that."
> Two silent nod are his answer.
> With a hefty sigh Anonymous seems to sink ever deeper into the seat.
> Four of the others in the room were his slaves, and the last was his daughter.
> Yet it seems like he is the one being pressed here.
> "If I could have kept him... you know, for how much I hate him I might've just done it. But the fact is, I can't. He'd be in constant danger from any other rebels for surrendering, other ponies would've hated him for Mocha... it would've been bad for everyone."
> Reaching up to rub his forehead, Anonymous sighs softly.
> "Giving him a fresh start in another good place is genuinely the best thing I can do for him."
> No one immediately replies; Cadance in particular still seems lost in her own sea of misery.
> After a moment Megan runs up to him and hugs her father around his hip.
> Reaching down, he squeezes her shoulder softly and you're again left to wonder how the caring father could exist in the same body as the man that made such hard decisions.
"For what it's worth... I think you're right. We couldn't have given him protection all the time, and I don't think he or the guards would have liked it."
> Yet the silence holds, no one else finding anything to say on the topic.
> After a moment, Sunburst meaningfully clears his throat:
> "Miss Megan, why don't you take Flurry Heart and go - back to your room for a bit?"
> Eyebrows rise and ears cock questioningly around the room; everyone seemed to realize that it's unusual for the timid stallion to be issuing suggestions - especially to your owner's daughter.
> Anonymous, however, simply pats Megan's shoulder and nods:
> "Go on, sweetheart. I'll be around."
> She detaches from him easily; Cadance is far more reluctant to let Flurry go but does nonetheless.
> When the two disappear, he looks back to Sunburst:
> "Her lessons are going well, then?"
> "Yes, Master. She is a fast learner, and enthusiastic when I - explain how these lessons will help her help you."
> "Alright..."
> Nodding - and seeming thankful to have a change of topic - Anonymous tilts his head:
> "So then, what did you want to tell me? I presume you had a reason to ask them out-"
> "I can teach her all the magic I know, but..."
> Sunburst cringes, looking down.
> "...I cannot teach her to fly. Which - she cannot."
"What?"
> "What?!"
> Both you and Cadance had spoken at the same time.
> Unable to fly-
> "She - was not able to with her previous owner. From hints, I've gathered that he kept her chained or caged enough that flight was entirely out of the question."
> Shuffling in place, Sunburst bows his head - almost as if trying to apologize.
> "Flurry Heart leaps, catches herself with her wings, and uses them for stabilization when galloping; her wings are perfectly good... but she cannot fly. I do not know if she is to afraid, or has actually forgotten how..."
> Cadance's expression suggests that her heart had been torn out anew.
> Her mouth forms a silent, pained 'No'.
> Anonymous, however simply grunts and acknowledges this new fact with a neutral mask:
> "Can she be taught again, then? What will it take?"
> "I believe she can, Master, and I believe she should - but not by me. I can't."
> As he'd been speaking, though, the theory of an idea had started creeping into your mind:
> There was, after all, a pony here in the camp who had been good about teaching fliers.
> Vapor Trail was nothing if not helpful, and to restore a pony's lost flight would surely be enough to get her to agree.
> But - you aren't sure you want her in the house.
> Not near Anonymous, not near Sunburst - another conspirator in the new escape plot - and especially not near Haute Glamour.
> If that unicorn uncovered Vapor's secrets...
> And there's another factor too:
> Cadance would surely want to teach Flurry Heart herself - a chance for mother and daughter to bond.
[Choice]
> No.
> Vapor Trail was... spirited, and despite your coming to terms with her determination to be free there was too much potential for argument if she was put in close proximity to Anonymous.
> Besides, her foal was only going to weigh on her more.
> Both literally and figuratively.
> As much as she might be a good teacher, this wasn't the time for it.
> Cadance quietly catches your eye, and you give her a subtle nod:
> Go on - do this.
> You aren't going to interfere.
> "Anonymous, I'd like to be the one to teach her."
> "Do you think you'll have time, with everything else going on? Especially with the expansion coming in the next few months; I don't want you being worn out by taking on to much."
> "I will make the time."
> Her voice hard and determined, Cadance straightens up and takes a few steps closer.
> "I grew up among earth ponies. I had to learn flight myself; I can teach her too."
> "And, of course, you want to be with your daughter as soon as you can."
> Looking away, Cadance lets her head drop a bit - mane falling over one eye.
> "Yes. I know my time away from her is coming to an end soon, and I want my daughter back so badly..."
> "Well..."
> Leaning forward, Anonymous rests his elbows on his knees.
> "I can understand that; when Megan came I didn't want to spend a moment apart either. Alright,Cadance - in about a week your sentence will be up. At that point, if you can find the time without taking away from managing the camp I've no objection."
> "Thank you, Master..."
> A rush of breath escapes her, relief at Anonymous' choice flowing back in its place.
> "When I say without taking time away, Cadance, I mean it. If things go to pieces here, whether she can fly or not is irrelevant. That's your first priority."
> Cadance flinches, and even you have to frown a bit.
> Being told your own child wasn't your first priority...
> Technically correct, perhaps, but no less painful.
"Is there anything else, sir, or should we go now?"
> "No, I think that'll be just about it. I just thought you all might want to be there for that."
> With a nod you turn from the room.
> Your ears tilt back, recognizing the hoofsteps of Cadance and Sunburst following close behind.
> No words are said until you leave the house - not even when Cadance stops, head turned to watch Flurry Heart and Megan tearing around one of the open living room in a maelstrom of pink wings, golden hair, and giggles from both.
> Her thoughts, you can tell, are the same as your own.
> Anonymous was a businessman through and through, but if she could forgive somepony who'd hurt such a close friend...
> Maybe she would be the sympathetic ear needed so badly.
> Cadance, however, remains silent until all three of you step out the front door, and even then only after a check around to ensure no one - human or pony - is within listening range.
> "Sunburst. Have you had any luck talking to Posey?"
> "When I can; she isn't always around."
"Concerned about Haute Glamour?"
> "Yes. She is already slipping away from what I can do; if we don't manage something soon I am afraid of what she might attempt... and even if I begin teaching my daughter, there'll be little chance."
> Head hanging, Sunburst scuffs at the ground with a hoof.
> "I'm sorry, Your Highness... I can try harder-"
> "No, I'm sure you're doing all you can Sunburst."
"I can run interference for you, if you'd like. Find reasons to suspect she might need a guard escort..."
> "That might be too obvious."
> Grimacing, Cadance shakes her head.
> "No. I don't think we can risk that. Everything that we do risks imperiling ourselves. We still have Anonymous' backing for now; there's no need to push things too quickly."
"Isn't that being a bit cautious? We're fighting for our right to keep running this ourselves and stay out from under her hoof, Cadance. We can't just sit back and wait for the storm to come."
> "Maybe. But we can't be overly-ambitious with our actions towards her just yet... Thunderlane, if you want to give her an escort in the camp? That will be fine. But not a permanent one all the time."
"Understood."
 
> The little mare - really not much more than a filly, you have to remind yourself - shivers as your fingers brush her horn.
"Sorry. Just let me see if I can-"
> "It's... okay. Something touching it with the restrictor on feels strange - I know the horn is there, but my magic is cut off so half of it feels like it isn't. It's kind of like when a limb goes dead and theaaaawoah!"
> Distracted by her nervous chatter, Crescent Moon has missed your fingers finding the proper release latch on her restrictor with the key.
> Clicking mutedly, the metallic band releases its grip on her horn.
> Instantly Crescent draws in a sharp breath, eyes going wide before falling half-open in an expression of almost euphoric delight.
> "You have no idea how good it feels to have that off..."
"I have some idea, though admittedly probably not the right one. Hold your neck up?"
> Complying, Crescent lets her horn flicker and glow seemingly just for the sake of stretching that particular arcane sense.
> "No, you really don't. It's beyond just a - a loss of sense. It's a part of who we are."
> Slotting the electronic key into the correct spot on her collar, you lift it from her neck as soon as the internal latches click aside and let it hinge open.
"Hmmm."
> Really, though, your thoughts are elsewhere.
> With the Comet Tail, and how he had reacted when the inhibitor implant was put into place.
> It certainly had seemed like a significant loss to him then.
> ...well, you think, if it was then maybe the bastard deserved it.
> Certainly there'd been no mercy for Mocha Cream before or after what he had done for her, and-
> "Anony- Master?"
> Crescent's wavering voice draws you back to reality.
> Her expression, one of fearful nervousness.
> Oh.
> You'd tightened your grip on her collar after removing it, hands digging in until tendons stood out while your face had twisted into a hard grimace.
"Sorry. It's - not you. My own thoughts, wandering."
> "O-Oh... I was - afraid for a moment that..."
> Trailing off awkwardly, she turns her head away.
"That I'd be putting it back on? Because I was angry at you?"
> Her head dips sharply in a single nod.
"...you're still afraid of me."
> "I. Was. Whipped."
> Each word is spat out, one after the other.
> "Whipped, and a section of my soul cut off with that limiter. Oh, sure, it might not've been you that ordered it... but you still put us in this. Why shouldn't I be afraid of you?"
> When you don't have an easy response, Crescent goes on:
> "I'll be honest... half of me wanted to go off on you again. Just to show I wasn't... tamed by this."
"And the other half?"
> "Scared shaking at the idea of having that /thing/-"
> Her eyes, locked on the inhibitor ring with a degree of terrified fascination, tell you exactly what she means even if you do not.
> "-put on me again. Scared enough to stop me... which only makes me angrier."
> Or, you suspect, being subjected to another whipping.
"If it means anything to you... I'm sorry it came to that point."
> "No you aren't."
> Grumbling, Crescent Moon shifts in place.
> "You might be angry that I caused some trouble, but you're not for a second sorry for what I went-"
"No, I am. Please, just hear me out for a moment?"
> This, at least, renders the filly silent for a moment.
"...think about what I said when I was doing that speech the other day, okay? We might have... differences about the need for discipline we aren't going to reconcile, but I will admit that what led up to it was my fault."
> Finally setting the collar aside, you fold your hands together in your lap and sigh:
"And that much, I really am sorry for. There wasn't any need for it to get that bad, and you suffered for it."
> Though Crescent Moon remains silent, you can tell she is thinking it over again.
"That's a big part of why I came down here and did this myself. To show I am paying attention. I can't undo what was done to you, obviously... but now that this is done with, I think you really should go down and look around the museum Cadance is building. I think it banish a lot of your fears."
> "Maybe."
> Standing up from the chair she'd been seated on, Crescent lifts herself to something approaching your (seated) height.
> "But let me make this super-clear for you: Even if it does, I don't like you. I don't like being a slave. And I really, really don't like that you - you -"
> On instinct, you try and reach out to put a hand on her neck.
> The mare slips away, though, leaving only your words to follow up:
"I didn't break you, Crescent. Hell, the fact that you can say that to me pretty much proves it."
> "Doesn't matter. I still can barely think for myself anymore; my mind's always going back to that - that -"
> A fresh shudder ripples through her.
> "...may I be dismissed now, Master?"
> There was no point in keeping her any longer.
> The others being released from their sentences would be just about done in the adjacent rooms by now.
"Yes, Crescent. You're dismissed."
> She slips from the room without another word, pointedly using her magic to shut the door behind her.
> Remaining in your seat, you prop your chin on folded fingers and let your thoughts swirl.
> A lesson, you suppose, in the reality that merely admitting your mistakes and moving to correct them did not undo damage already done.
> And if you-
> Chiming softly, your phone interrupts that line of thought.
> With a frustrated grumble you draw it out, but immediately suppress that growing annoyance when you see the message waiting on it:
> You were wanted at the security building.
> Now what could that be about?
 
> Rising with the grunt, you step from the room out into the hallway beyond; Crescent Moon and the others who'd been arrested with her - and now freed - were long since gone.
> The building you'd taken over for this wasn't anything special, just an unobtrusive workspace in the midst of the camp no abandoned during the off-shift hours where the lot of them could be gathered and their inhibitors, wingbinders, and collars removed.
> Outside, the streets have already mostly emptied from the early-morning rush of ponies heading to their workplaces after scarfing down a brief breakfast.
> Apart from a handful of latecomers galloping past you (or, in one case, buzzing along low to the ground on eager wings) no one is really about, and they aren't eager to risk being late to try and stop.
> And-
> Wait.
> One of the security guards was already waiting at the entrance.
> By his side was another man - dressed in a loose-fitting casual coat - and a woman, whose equivalent was far more formal and must have been rather insufficient in the early-spring chill.
> Both, however, focus on you.
> Two sets of eyes instantly sweeping over you in evaluation.
"...may I help you?"
> "Mr. Anonymous. I am Jack Weller, this is Arlene Donovan. We are here to investigate a report we received regarding your operations here. Now, let me be clear this isn't a criminal investigation yet but we do need to get to the bottom of-"
> "We were told that a pony you reported dead was in fact killed by your security staff in direct contravention of the laws regarding slave euthanasia."
> Well, that is to the point.
> It shows, too - you rock back on your heels, not having expected either of them to be that blunt about it.
> Jack appears equally annoyed, shooting his partner a dirty look that she cannot see.
"...I see. I suppose you're both Federal employees - if I could see some identification?"
> They have some.
> You do, indeed, see.
> Which just leaves you wondering:
> Who had ratted you out?
> One of the ponies gotten their hooves on a phone, decided to raise some other hell for you?
"Very well. I'll cooperate of course - what will you be needing to see?"
> Even as Arlene launches into a laundry list of things she wants, your mind is running a mile a minute.
> Chrysocolla, of course, had not been executed.
> But even appearing under investigation for too long could undermine your investors' support - force you to give them more.
> ...there was one other option you might take advantage of.
> Mellowheart had finished her study of Chryscolla's body; if you gave them access to her, she would be able to make your point quite clearly.
> Having a pony with medical training and a record of acting out against slavery show them exactly why Chryscolla could not have been murdered would be a huge bonus towards getting these two investigators out of your hair.
> Assuming, of course, she did not lie.
> Or worse, told them about what had happened to Corona.
> But Mellowheart had been responding well to your new initiatives, and had pushed her unknown ally to help smoke out Chrysocolla in the first place...
[Choice]
> Interrupting the woman's continued speech-
> Closer to a rant, you briefly think.
> -you raise your voice to make yourself heard by both:
"There's something else you might want to consider looking at, if I could interject? An autopsy has already been performed by a medic here; you may want to examine that as well."
> "We will be conducting our own investigation, thank you very much-"
> This woman.
> Had you done something to piss her off already, or was she always like this?
> Judging by the expression of her partner, it seems like the latter.
"Undoubtedly you will be; however, perhaps you would at the very least like to look at it to guide your own examination of the body?"
> "The body isn't buried yet?"
"No. I - was going to soon enough.
> After
> "That would be very much appreciated, yes."
> Thank God for this guy - Weller, he said his name was?
"I'll instruct my medical staff to let you take a look at it. If necessary, I suppose I could pull the one who wrote off for you to speak to as well, though I don't think you'll get much else out of her."
> With any luck they wouldn't have to speak to Mellowheart directly, the report being plenty enough.
> ...with any more like, there'd be nothing in the report to arouse their suspicion.
"As for the rest - I'll make my chief of security and all the other guards who were present when she died available for interview, as well as the reports on the matter."
> "Appreciated. I realize you're probably not to happy to see us, but we're just like to verify all the details and then hopefully be out of your hair too."
> You know, if this guy is the one who is in the lead you might just be able to deal with this.
> Especially if Arlene keeps looking like she just swallowed a mouthful of raw sewage.
"I don't suppose you can tell me where exactly this report came from?"
> "Afraid not, I'm sorry."
"Even if the matter is resolved?"
> "The reports line is absolutely detached from everything else, I'm afraid. We can't reveal anything about it, except what was reported."
"Hmm."
> Spotting your frown, he gives a sympathetic smile.
> "I know, I know. We're not the most welcome sight. Just let us work through this, and we'll be gone soon enough."
"Of course. Why don't I show you the right way to the medical building..."
> You hadn't ever taken a look at Chrysocolla's body.
> Now, you can't help but wonder if it would have been better to steel yourself in advance.
> The results of her method of suicide were none too pretty; the arcing electricity had scorched her face - burning back her lips and cheeks to expose her teeth in a rictus death-grin.
> Blackened streaks ran down her coat, in places split open as well to reveal the cooked flesh beneath.
> If there was any consolation for your obvious queasiness on viewing the body, it was that both of them could clearly see how uncomfortable you were with it.
> "What happened?"
> Even Jack - Mr. Weller? You don't know how to think of him - sounds surprised by the twisted corpse laying on the cold metal tray.
"She bit a power line. My security teams had cornered he; we had good information she was one of a group responsible for the beating of a filly. She decided death was a better option than punishment."
> "And what punishment would make a pony that desperate, I wonder?"
> Again you force yourself not to roll your eyes at Arlene's aggressive tone.
"Sale. The other three were all sold for their roles in that bit of violence - although I made sure one who cooperated went to a retraining facility rather than general sale."
> Jack nods again, seeming to understand where a pony with that sort of record would be going.
> On the other hand, Arlene simply seems to want to get out of there as soon as possible.
> "Well, I suppose I'll leave the rest of this up to you and start doing interviews of the other witnesses..."
> "Yeah, go do that - I'll take a look at this. Mr. Anonymous, you said a report had already been done on this?"
"Yes. Let me go get a copy..."
> Barely has he begun to glance through it before Jack looks up in surprise, one eyebrow raised.
> "A pony did this work?"
"Mellowheart..."
> You crack a small grin.
"...isn't particularly fond of me. You can question the others to confirm that. But she is one of the best trained medical staff I have here, so if I wanted the truth really confirmed..."
> "Or she could be following your orders and excluding anything to incriminate you... but we'll have to determine that later. Can I question her?"
"If you have to. She might be a bit busy, though."
> "I understand. I'll start my own look through of the body-"
> As he speaks, a shoulder-bag is opened and a white smock taken from a plastic bag within it.
> "-and confirm what this report says?"
> Noting your expression, he shrugs apologetically.
> "Sorry. Procedure."
"Yes, I'll have this room turned over to you."
> "Thank you. I'll be as fast as I can."
 
> In all honesty, the security building isn't really somewhere you want to be so quickly again.
> Just the thought of guards, prisoners, and punishment was enough to draw back up-
> -Comet Tail's defiance turning to fear and then fugue as the implant was inserted, Autumn Frost's scream as the incandescent iron pressed to her hide, the iron's own heat and weight in your magical grip-
> -everything that you had been trying to push down and forget.
> But there was work to be done here - someone apparently wanted to talk to you - and even if the mere sight of the fortress-like building was enough to turn your stomach you could not simply abandon it.
> Even as you slip in through the main doors, however, your ears cock forward to focus in on the sound of raised voices.
> One male - Gene, his recognizable accent carrying through - but the other an unfamiliar woman's.
> It isn't hard to guess roughly to who it belongs.
> Word of the investigators had been circling in the camp since they'd arrived that morning.
> Quickening into a trot, you pull open a door into the main office and are promptly assaulted by the discordant noise of two voices raised to their maximum against each other.
> "He is clearly not well! You have been 'interviewing' him for two hours now; at least let him have a break!"
> "You are interfering with an official inquery. It is my job to-"
> "To inquire, not to torment him!"
> "The report we received clearly indicated that pony was responsible for-"
> Yes, judging by her unusually formal outfit this woman had to be one of the investigators.
> Coughing softly, you raise your voice just enough to interject in the politest tone you can manage:
"Excuse me, but I was told that I was needed here. May I ask what the problem is?"
> She glances down briefly, then back up - only for her eyes to return again a moment later, staring in surprise as if she hadn't expected you to be... you.
> Gene, by contrast, barely spares you a glance and reserves his ire-filled gaze for the other human in the room.
> "The investigator has been /interviewing/ Thunderlane, and apparently fails to notice that the topic she seems so focused on is rather rough on him."
> Topic-
> Brushing past both of them you proceed on through to the next room.
> Shutting - and locking - the door behind you, your attention then turns fully to the stallion despondantly slumped over the table.
> He was the very essence of unhappiness, wings spread to rest on the table to either side and golden eyes barely visible beneath half-fallen lids.
> Even your entrance goes unnoticed until you approach him, brushing his withers with the your feather-tips.
> "Cadance?"
"Yes. Thunderlane..."
> Seating yourself next to him, you drop your head to rest on the table at the same level as his.
> A rather more awkward position, given that you are somewhat taller than he is.
> Still, it gets the point across.
"What happened to Chrysocolla wasn't your fault, Thunderlane."
> "I know."
> He speaks without even moving as if to do so would cost him to much.
> "That doesn't mean much if I can't stop thinking about how she just reached up and - and bit down..."
"...that woman out there-"
> "Arlene Donovan."
"-is she pushing you?"
> Weakly, Thunderlane nods.
> "I've told the story five times now. I don't understand what she's looking for. I think she wants me say I killed Chrysocolla... keeps asking me questions with answers that lead to that."
"Just her? Not her partner?"
> "Yeah. He's... somewhere else. I don't know where."
> Somewhere else.
> You can guess what her reason is, though.
> Pinning a crime on Anonymous would be a proud feather for an investigator like her.
> Growling softly, you lift yourself from the table and turn back to face the door.
> The argument you'd left behind had not resumed - at least not at the same volume as before.
"...go back to duty, Thunderlane. Or take the rest of your shift off. I'll deal with this."
> Except that, when you trot back out, Arlene is nowhere to be found.
> Gene is still there, though, and nods in greeting.
> "I told her to shove off, she wasn't going back in there with him. She didn't like that, and went to go find her supervisor."
"That was good of you. I've told Thunderlane not to bother with her anymore - I'm going to find Anonymous."
> Barely have you exited the security building before you take to wing, carrying yourself up on several long beats to reach the manor much more quickly than any gallop could have carried you.
> With each beat of your wings, you feel a familiar fire building in your chest:
> The same anger, the same fury at the raw injustice of it and at your need - your obligation - to do something about it that you'd felt back when you discovered Cloudy Cotton being assaulted by a guard.
> Touching down on its front step, you stride in with a furious presence that sends servants and ponies alike scattering before you.
> The charge continues as you march up the stairs towards Anonymous' office.
> Investigate - yes, they could investigate.
> But there was no need for them to torment a pony like that!
> They would have to go over your body before-
> "Dear me, you seem to be in quite the hurry. Is something wrong, Cadance?"
> That voice.
> That smug, self-satisfied, perfectly-controlled voice.
> And of course, the pony it originated from had firmly planted herself seated on her haunches in the doorway to Anonymous' study.
"Haute Glamour. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have time right now - I need to speak to-"
> Nothing in your tone had suggested you were actually sorry, but the unicorn doesn't seem remotely bothered by it.
> "And I'm afraid that won't be possible right now. He is in a meeting with Randall and some others - and we aren't welcome to take part in it."
"You will get out of my way. I am going to speak with him."
> Yet, Haute does not move.
> If anything, her smile only grows.
> "Apparently someone else has finally taken notice of how dangerous the way this place is being run and decided to investigate. Such a shame; I do hope they don't find anything wrong with your decisions - or the degree of freedom Anonymous has given all of you here. I understand they're quite interested in uncovering Thunderlane's actions..."
> Instinctual responses boil up from somewhere deep inside of you, the most basic actions of a pony meeting a challenge:
> Ears pin back, head dropping to point straight at her, and teeth baring as your wings spread in a classic gesture of Pegasus aggression.
"You did this."
> Your growled tone and eyes narrowed to violet slits similarly have little affect on her.
> "I? Oh, no no no Cadance dear. I did nothing."
> That plea of innocence, however, is starkly contracted by her tone.
> Rarely have you heard a pony sound so incredibly satisfied with herself; any doubt that she was merely taking advantage of the situation and not directly responsible is rapidly evaporating.
"Do not lie to me, Haute Glamour. You are responsible for this-"
> "If you do not believe me, you are welcome to ask the investigators. Though, they may not be able to tell you; I am told the tips line is completely incognito..."
> Snarling, you light your horn with a vicious snap-pop.
> To your complete and total surprise, Haute does the same - her horn coming alive with a pale red light, magic flaring to counter yours.
> To say you are taken totally by surprise is an understatement.
> Not one pony had dared raise their magic against you from the moment you'd arrived; even certain as you now were that she was a foe this was not something you'd been prepared for.
> But even if your unicorn magic is not the strongest, you are still an alicorn.
> Still head-and-shoulders above this traitor.
> Ruthlessly clamping down, your magic encircles Haute's and constricts to squeeze that light out.
"You will not destroy what I have worked so hard to build here!"
> Rather than respond, she spreads her hooves, grits her teeth, and fights back - flanks heaving with effort.
> A low hum permeates the air as magic writhes and crashes, until at last you find a weakness in her field and snuff it out entirely.
> Haute Glamour goes tumbling back against the wall with a yelp and thud before your magic finds her again and pins the mare in place.
"You should not have done that, Haute."
> "Doesn't - matter!"
> Winded, she still manages to push out a hacking laugh.
> "Stupid. So stupid. No - no friendship anymore. No P-Princesses... Just slaves - and masters."
> The anger you'd already carried within flares up anew:
"You will not be master here!"
> "Not - your choice!"
> Face splitting into a twisted smile, Haute opens one eye to meet yours.
> "If you won't learn, I'm sure F-Flurry will be more-"
> With a furious roar you drag her from the wall, skidding across the floor in a tangle of legs and mane to halt at your hooves.
> There you pin Haute with a hoof driven into her ribs, dropping your head to snarl at her:
"Lay a hoof on my daughter, and I will tear you limb from rutting li-"
> "Cadance!"
> Your name - roared by Anonymous at the top of his lungs - shatters the moment.
> "What the FUCK are you doing?!"
> And you look up-
> -into the shocked faces in the door way of Anonymous' office.
> Your master, of course, and some of his staff - and of course Randall, guided by his cane to the edge of the crowd, Posey appearing a moment later at his side.
> Before you can respond, Haute Glamour croaks out two words:
> "Master - help..."
> Anonymous is on top of you in a moment, seizing a fistful of your mane and hauling you up off of her.
> Despite your earlier fury, for some reason you find yourself utterly unable to resist him and go tumbling head over hooves.
> Free of your weight, Haute scrambles upright and runs to cower at Randall's feet:
> "She's mad! Insane! I told her you didn't want to be disturbed, and she tried to kill me!"
> Suddenly you are aware of how mad you must look - wings spread, a crazed glint in your eye, appearing nearly ready to crush another pony beneath you.
"She - is responsible for this investigation. She sent in a report to draw them here! This entire mess is of her making - she is trying to destroy this place so she can take over!"
> As the words leave your lips, you are all to aware of how frantic, how insane they must sound.
"She threatened my daughter!"
> How unconvincing.
> In that moment, you understand.
> Haute had never meant to keep you from the room.
> Maybe never even meant the investigators to find anything.
> This entire thing had been a trap for you and you alone.
> To destroy their trust in you.
> To make you vulnerable.
> "Haute?"
> Randall's voice is soft, yet full of danger.
> "What happened out there?"
> "I don't know!"
> It was like she had become an entirely different pony - angry, yes, but full of innocence, righteous anger, and even a little fear towards you.
> "She hates me, I think - I just told her you didn't want anyone coming in, but you heard her! She's insane!"
"You lying-"
> Anonymous' fist again grips your mane, forcing your head back down to the floor.
"I know it! She called the investigators, fed them her lies! She bragged about what she would do to my daughter when I am gone!"
> "I didn't do anything!"
> Haute's plaintive reply provokes Randall to tuck his can in the crook of an arm and drop his hand protectively to her neck.
> Slipping - everything is slipping away, second by second.
> There is no way this will be forgotten.
> The same crime you'd just condemned ponies to sale for, now you were made guilty of.
> Haute blinks, and in that moment you see the spark of victory in her eyes.
"No! I won't let you-"
> "She's lying!"
> Everyone freezes, no one having realized who it came from at first.
> After all, few of them had ever heard Posey speak - and no one, not even yourself, heard her yell.
> But yell she had, stepping forward with trembling legs but a clear, strong voice:
> "Haute Glamour is lying. She is trying to ruin Miss Cadance, because Miss Cadance has a-"
> Overriding her, Haute snaps angrily:
> "You will shut your mouth when your betters are talking; I will deal with you later!"
> "No, Haute."
> In contrast, Randall's voice had dropped dangerously low.
> "Posey... do you swear you are telling the truth?"
> Shaking so fiercely her mane and the guide-handle on her harness sway back and forth, Posey nods.
> "I swear, master... I heard her placing the call. You were out, but I don't think she knew I was there, or..."
> Or believed Posey would ever tell, you finish in your head.
> Once more Haute had undergone a fresh transformation, eyes narrowing and lips drawing back in an angry expression.
> Stepping forward, she lights her horn again - clamping Posey's mouth shut with a band of magic.
> Her eyes bug out, but a moment later the shimmering muzzle is gone.
> Randall's hand had left Haute's neck, instead finding her horn and clamping down tight over it.
> "Posey... tell me everything."
> It takes the timid mare a moment to find herself again, but she manages.
> "Haute Glamour is - is wretched! She terrorizes all of us, beats us when we won't play along-"
> "Why didn't you tell me?"
> Despite his blindness, Randall's expression matches the pain in his voice.
> "I - I d-didn't know. She s-said you approved and I thought all m-masters were like this..."
> Posey's head droops, mane falling over her face to hide it.
> "I didn't know there was another w-way until I saw this place, and now Haute is trying to destroy it too."
> "You swear this is true...?"
> Again he asks, and again Posey nods.
> "I do. You can ask the others at home, I..."
> Searching for something more, a light suddenly comes on in her eyes.
> "Your phone! Haute used your phone to place the report, knew you wouldn't - wouldn't see it, so she just used your own phone! The number will still be there, right?"
> "...Master, Cadance has clearly been twisting Pos-aauuuh!"
> Also despite his blindness, Randall has impeccable aim with his cane.
> Throwing Haute to the floor and interrupting her protest, he had grabbed the stick and laid into her with frightening accuracy - blows raining on her flank, shoulder, and haunches with heavy, meaty thwacks.
> "I knew it! I knew something was wrong, but I trusted you!"
> Despite that catching the falling cane would surely be within her abilities, Haute does not.
> Instead she lays shrieking, hooves raised to cover her head.
> "No! Mercy, Master! Please!"
> "Mercy?! I brought you into my home, let you run my house - I trusted you! And now I find out you've not just been terrorizing all my other ponies, but sabotaging my work too?!"
> "No! Please!
> On and on the beating goes, and somewhere along the line the fire in your chest begins to dim.
> No longer was Haute the confident mastermind, but now a tearful wreck huddled beneath the raining blows.
> You could stop this.
> Maybe should stop this.
> Monstrous as she was, Randall was clearly acting in anger.
> ...or maybe, a dark part of your heart whispers, you could do even worse.
> If Haute feared to be a slave without power, then you could use your magic to twist her heart and make her a slave to it instead.
[Choice]
> On and on the heavy, meaty thuds go.
> Haute's cries turn from the initial high notes of shock to a regular, keening wail as the pain of her beating sets in.
> And still it goes on, like a marching drumbeat against her hide.
> A familiar leaden, sick feeling begins to grow in your stomach.
> Sympathy, for this pony?
> Who had only moments ago been threatening your daughter?
> Or perhaps it's less that and more fear at the anger that seems to drive Randall's unceasing blows.
> Not even just unceasing, but barely showing signs of slowing down despite Haute having been reduced to little more than sputtered, gasping sobs.
"Randall, stop!"
> Struggling up, you pull free of Anonymous' grip - which he releases with little effort - and lurch forward towards the two.
"Please, Randall, no more!"
> Stopping with his cane raised in mid-swing, Randall's head twists around to face you in that eerie, not-quite-looking-straight-at-you way.
> "Why?"
> Voice reduced to a breathy whisper, his shoulders heave with each heavy breath.
> "She - she lied to me. She hurt my Posey-"
"Because you're angry. You want to hurt her, but - you can't let yourself. It's not justice. Whatever she deserves, a beating in anger isn't it."
> Looking down at Haute - now reduced to a trembling ball of pale coat and crimson mane - you sigh softly:
"Not any more than when I attacked her. I was wrong then, and so is this. Let your anger cool, and then give her just desserts."
> Hand trembling, Randall eventually lets out a sharp breath and drops the cane back to his side.
> You, too, release a breath you hadn't even known you were holding.
> Gaze dropping to Haute, you try to properly compose yourself.
> Her head had barely begun to emerge from beneath the protective cover of her hooves, but she peers back up - emotions rapidly flickering over her face.
> Fear, anger, pain, confusion.
> She truly doesn't know what to make of this situation.
"Haute Glamour..."
> Leaning down, you study her with a mix of sadness and residual anger flickering across your own muzzle.
"You know, I think I understand you, Haute Glamour. I think... I scare you. Because, I think somewhere - buried down deep within you - there's still a good pony. A pony who wants to believe what she is doing is right."
> An hateful hiss is her only reply, apparently still hurting to much for a proper reply.
"That's why you were so glad when you thought I 'proved you right' at first, and why you tried to destroy me when you found out I wasn't cruel like you. Because as long as I am succeeding here you're scared that all the cruelty, all the pain you inflicted... it all might be for nothing."
> This time, she recoils as if a venomous snake had leaped from your mouth.
> Satisfaction fills your chest - followed a moment later by shame.
> Cruel as she was, Haute doesn't deserve to have her world shattered like this.
"But it's not that easy. We have to all make up for our mistakes... and as much as I want to hate you, some part of me hopes you can find it within you to change."
> Your part said, you back off.
> After a moment, Haute heaves herself upright and faces you on trembling legs.
> She presents a wretched figure - bruises already starting to form, her perfectly-kept mane a ragged wreck, a little blood oozing from one nostril where an errant blow had fallen.
> Yet still a fire blazes in her eyes, and is given voice by her lips:
> "You... you disgust me, 'princess'. You think you're so pure and noble, but in the end you're lying to yourself - clinging to the gravestone of a dead nation."
"I do no such thing!"
> Smirk growing, she shakes her head - ragged crimson mane swaying like a bloody waterfall.
> "Keep telling yourself that. These humans will turn on you eventually, and then you'll get to see how much-"
> Yelping, Haute Glamour collapses again as Randall once more brings the cane down on her.
> Only once, though; after that he speaks up:
> "Anonymous, I hope you don't mind - I'm going to need somewhere to put her until I can deal with her."
> "Not at all. Let me call a couple of the security staff up here to come get her. What're you going to do with her?"
> Somehow managing to lift her head, Haute utters a sharp bark of angry laugher:
> "Yes, what are you going to do? Whip me? Beat me some more? You won't do anything to me in the end; you need me to keep your house running!"
> "No."
> Randall's voice is deadly soft.
> "Anonymous, I think you may have had the right idea. There is nothing I can do to fix this kind of... poison. I'm going to sell you, Haute."
> The mare freezes, eyes dilating down to pinpricks.
> She must have thought herself safe from sale; as she herself had said moments earlier, Randall 'needed' her.
> Or, it seems, he did not.
> "No..."
> "Yes. This is too far, Haute. I gave you a home, I gave you respect and care... and you've been tormenting my ponies and sabotaging my work as thanks. You're done."
> "NO!"
> Confusion turns to a shriek of desperation, and you understand.
> Haute desired control, and Randall was going to put her into the one place where she had none whatsoever.
> Nodding, Randall's blank eyes still narrow in anger:
> "Yes. You're going on the market, with full reports of all you did."
> For a moment you expect Haute to try and charge Randall, but instead she snaps in another way.
> Completely dropping to the floor, she lays there limply with eyes staring dead ahead into nothing:
> "No, no... you don't understand! I'm pretty, I - if you do that, I won't be worth anything! They'll /use/ me!"
> The meaning of her words is clear, and despite the fury still burning in your chest your heart does a flip.
> Randall, however, is completely unaffected:
> "They may well use you. Just like you used me."
> Words fail Haute; she can only give a terrified, heaving cry and remain laying on the floor in utter despair - even when the guards arrive to remove her.
> Once the door slams shut, again leaving you all in privacy, it seems as though all the tension in the room had been shut out as well.
> Randall carefully twists about, then drops to one knee with a hand outstretched:
> "Posey?"
> With uncertain steps the nervous mare approaches, until she can brush her cheek against his fingers.
> Breath hissing out, Randall seems to sink down into himself.
> "I'm sorry, Posey. I've not been a good Master to you... I spend so much time with you, I knew something was wrong, but I didn't even once think to really try and push in to find out what was wrong."
> That is, you think to yourself, one of the great evils of slavery.
> He had not thought to check, and Posey could not simply have left - or even threatened to.
> She was trapped.
> And yet, the pain in Randall's voice was so real...
> Full of very real anguish over what had occured.
> Posey chooses to pay attention to the latter; eyes damp, she nuzzles in against his hand.
> "I forgive you, Master. Whatever she did, you've always been good to me."
> "Thank you..."
> Randall's whispered response draws a shake of Posey's head.
> "Don't thank me. There's a pony here - um, Sunburst? He was the one who started talking to me. Told me about how much better things are here."
> Anonymous shoots you a look.
> He knows - and you'll be discussing it later, no doubt.
> "I will have to thank him, yes."
> Slowly he runs a hand down Posey's damp cheek, and you're left with the sense there will be many long-overdue words between the two of them as well.
> Then Randall stands, turning to face yourself and your master:
> "Anonymous, Cadance, I think I owe you an apology both. I brought Haute in, and she has only caused you trouble. This will, obviously affect things between us-"
> "No, it won't."
> Shaking his head, Anonymous stands as well and folds his arms.
> "Like Posey said - whatever she did, you've been nothing but a boon. We're still going forward."
"If I can ask, what will you be doing with her? Do you really intend to sell her to - those markets?"
> "I..."
> Frowning deeply, Randall pauses.
> "...I'll think it over, when I've had a chance to calm down. She will be gone no doubt, though."
> That, you think, might be for the best.
> Even after all she'd done you aren't comfortable condemning her to a lifetime of rape.
> Unable to produce anything to say, you settle for a simple nod - only belatedly remembering that of course he could not see the gesture.
> After a moment, though, Anonymous breaks the awkward silence:
> "While she might have been dealt with, we still have one big issue to deal with: These investigators she brought down on us."
"Two issues, Anonymous. Justified or not, I attacked another pony in my anger. That is no small thing, especially after what I just did to two ponies for that same thing."
> "That isn't the same, and you know it Cadance."
"Same or not, it's the truth. I let my anger take control of me, and..."
> Your head sink, eyes falling to your hooves.
"...I can't be above them. I can't hold myself to a different standard, or everything Haute said will be true."
> Anonymous shakes his head.
> "Well, I mean, I didn't see you lay a hoof on her, did you? I just heard raised voices, and we went to investigate."
"What?!"
> But that was a lie!
> He'd caught you red-hoofed!
> "No, I didn't see anything at all. Did anyone else here see her attack Haute?"
> "I-"
> Randall's sightless eyes crinkle with amusement.
> "-saw nothing whatsoever."
> They're going to cover for you.
> Lie for you.
> No one else had seen; the camp would never have to know.
> Maybe...
"No - I - that's not right! Whatever anyone knows, I still attacked her. I am still guilty."
> "Anonymous, if I may handle this?"
> Tilting his head questioningly at Randall, Anonymous nonetheless nods.
> "Go ahead."
> "Cadance, if you would turn around?"
> Uncertain yourself, you do so also without question.
> The cane feeling its way from your hind-hoof up to your haunches only gives you a moment's warning:
> "Is that in the right place, Cadance?"
> Despite now knowing full well what he intends, you nod.
"Yes. It is."
> Being struck with his cane is nothing like a whip.
> It is solid and heavy; the impact actually makes you stagger forwards a step despite preparing yourself.
> While it is not accompanied by the immediate, searing pain of the lash you are quite certain your haunches will be sore for a good while.
> "There. Punishment. As much as you deserve; the rest, waived on account of the good your actions. Now, as Mr. Anonymous said... we saw nothing."
> Honestly, it does not feel like it.
> One different decision from Posey, and everything could have fallen apart.
> You cannot be that impetuous.
> Princesses do not let their emotions run away from them.
> Behind you, Anonymous coughs softly.
> "Well, then, if we could get back work..."
> ...
> Over an hour later, you finally follow Anonymous from the room.
> Without a word, he turns and heads for his bedroom and you follow.
> No order is needed to know what will follow.
> Glancing briefly at the heavily-stuffed chair, Anonymous instead turns for his bed and collapses into it with a hefty groan - kicking off his shoes.
> Staring at the ceiling, he stretches both arms out to either side - one dangling awkwardly off the edge of the bed.
> "Did you plan it, Cadance?"
"No. Well - sort of."
> "Explain."
"I told Sunburst to try and talk to her, yes. I did hope Posey would eventually find the strength to speak up. But happening right then, in front of everyone like that? No; not planned."
> Nodding - or more accurately, rolling his head where it lays on the bed - Anonymous sighs.
> "I'm a little relieved. I was afraid suggesting Sunburst to teach your daughter was just a ploy - that you'd played me to your own ends."
> No, you think.
> Playing Anonymous to your own ends was more in line with Sunburst's other task.
> "I'm glad you weren't, though I also have to admit you scared the ever-loving shit out of me back there. I thought you'd completely lost it, going after Haute like that."
"...I'm sorry..."
> Approaching with a softly-lit horn, you lift the dangling arm and return it to his side.
> A moment later he reaches out again - this time to cup your cheek lightly, stroking along your jaw.
> "If anything I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have jumped on you so quickly; I know you better than that."
"No, you were right to. I lost control. It was just like when I discovered that guard raping Cotton Cloudy; a kind of - of pure rage just took me over."
> Your eyes close and ears fall, and a tremble begins in your wings.
"If Posey hadn't spoken up... I would have lost everypony here, lost my daughter - I would've ruined everything for you."
> Tugging lightly, Anonymous guides your head in towards where he lays.
> Dropping down to rest your chin on his chest, you let it rest there.
> The question of when exactly you became so comfortable with physical contact with your owner, your captor and tormentor, is a question only briefly pondered before being swept away by the storm of heavier thoughts.
"I just went through with torturing two ponies for letting their anger drive them to violence. And it's the second time for me too; one stroke... it doesn't feel like enough."
> "You have by far the biggest drive to be a martyr I have ever seen... What do you want me to do? Go get a whip and put you through a bit of penitent scourging? Put you in a bridle and chains?"
> The thought of that awful, burning pain coming down on you again was enough to send a shudder from your nose to tail-tip.
> But it does not dismiss the sense you have that simply hiding it was wrong.
> Hands gently lift your muzzle, turning your head until you're looking up at his face.
> "Did you do wrong? Yes. But the right outweighs the wrong in this case."
> So he says.
> You can't help but feel shaken, though.
> Right outweighing wrong was not a zero-sum measurement; that good had been done did not negate your mistake.
> And you were not a mere pony but an alicorn, a princess even in exile.
> Rulers, you remember your aunt telling you often, are held to different standards.
> Even if the camp never knew, you would know in your heart.
> And it could tear you apart.
[Choice]
"That's not enough, Anonymous..."
> You head tries to droop - and when the support of his hands on either side keep that from happening, your gaze drops to stare down at his chest instead of looking him in the eye.
"You said you were afraid I'd plotted the whole thing out behind your back. In some ways, I wish I had - then I could tell myself that I didn't just almost ruin it for you."
> Some part of you wishes he would actually yell at you - yell, grab, even beat - do something!
> Anything to show he understood just how massive this mistake was!
> All your comment evokes is a soft snort, though.
> "You did, Cadance - almost. Not actually. And you need to recognize tha-"
"Yes! Yes I did actually! I didn't turn things around; that was Posey - I don't know why you can't see that!"
> Tail lashing angrily, you pull from his hands and stalk in a slow circle.
"Why are you so insistent that I didn't do anything wrong?! I'm not a foal; I don't have to be coddled!"
> "You know the last thing I am going to do is coddle you."
> Snarling at his perpetually calm and understanding tone, you spin around to re-fix him with a fierce glare.
"Then why aren't you listening to me?! Look at what I did to Crescent Moon and the others! I took had her whipped and an inhibitor put on her!"
> "And?"
"And?! That was for just fighting a guard! If I was any other pony and just did what I did, I'd be going under the lash right now too - or considering what I just did to Autumn and Comet, even worse!"
> "Oh for fuck's sake, Cadance! Is that what you really want me to do? Throw you in a cell, beat you, have Eric work you over?"
> Freezing mid-step, you rear your head back with nostrils flared.
> Was it?
> To face a clear punishment and be done with it?
> To have some acknowledgement of how badly you had screwed up?
> It was a tempting thought, though the mention of that man - the one who'd been responsible for so many other brutal punishments, who seemed to know just how to break down a pony - was enough to send a fresh spike of fear through you.
> Your consideration of the idea must have been obvious in your expression; Anonymous' look of frustration fades, being overtaken by concern.
> He sits up again, elbows resting on his knees and brows knitted.
> "God damn, Cadance. When did you become such a masochist?"
"It's not masochism. I can't hide from the responsibility of what I did, and if I try to it'll tear me apart. That would hurt me even more."
> "Your responsibility is to me; I am your owner. And I am saying you don't deserve that."
> Snorting softly, you can't help but roll your eyes in a very un-princesslike fashion.
"Is that supposed to help?"
> "It's a fact."
"Since when has that ever changed what I feel in my heart?"
> "...okay, fair point."
> Anonymous is unable to help but crack small grin entirely at odds with the gravity of the discussion, though it soon fades with a shake of his head.
> "I think you're completely insane, though."
"Do you remember what we talked about, the first night after the escape? Everything has repercussions. I have made so many mistakes, and now this - I can't go unpunished forever. I wouldn't be a leader then, but just your figurehead again."
> "And do you remember what I told you when we talked up here after the party? You're my partner in this. Besides, what the hell am I supposed to tell everyone else in the camp? I start beating you, they're likely to revolt."
"I will tell them."
> "Will they listen to you?"
"Yes. Maybe not understand, but they will listen."
> "I'm not sure that will be enough. It could incite a riot."
"So could my facing nothing. This will silence anypony left who still thinks I'm abusing my authority."
> With a sigh, he again reaches out to touch a hand to your cheek.
> "I knew how to deal with you when you were fighting me, but not like this... If I hold you to account for what you did, will you be able to keep working afterward?"
"I... think so, yes."
> "Then I'll take it under consideration, on two conditions: One, I am not doing this to you right now. We've got investigators running around, opening the rec center, probably a re-negotiation with my investors after this... I can't take you out of action for a day or two. Second... not Eric."
"Why not?"
> "Because you belong to me, not to him. If you're upset because you almost ruined me, then I'm the one who should punish you. If this is your responsibility, then you're my responsibility - and I think the ponies know that. Just like the last time you demanded I punish you, I'll carry it out."
"That... makes sense, I suppose."
> "Your voice is trembling."
> So it is.
> Yes, the thought of going through with something to recognize the monumental scale of the mistake you'd made was alluring.
> Or perhaps it was the hope that once through with it, you'd be able to let it go.
> But at the same time, to suffer through one of his punishments...
"I'm sorry, I-"
> "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"No."
> Your voice is almost whisper soft, and his hand - still cupping your cheek - tenses.
"But I am sure I need something. Or this will build until it eats me from the inside out."
> "Alright then. But like I said, not today - and if you take that time to reconsider, I will understand."
> You won't be reconsidering.
 
> Marching through the cell block seems by now to have become a regular thing, a required part of your duties as a guard.
> Or at the very least, something that you'd become used to.
> You had taken that day off as Cadance had ordered - or, more accurately, taken a day "on duty" but mostly socializing with the camp's ponies.
> 'Engaging in outreach', if anyone asked - a phrase you'd heard come up before - but if anypony was being reached out to it was yourself.
> After that repeated interrogation, a reminder that there were still live ponies in the camp who even appreciated what you did was sorely needed.
> That was then, though.
> This was now.
> The investigators, their questions seemingly satisfied, had eventually vanished after another two days of poking around the camp.
> A judgement on the whole matter, you understood, was still to come.
> Your thoughts lay elsewhere, though.
> Staying off your actual duties was only possible for so long, and this, you thought, was something you needed to do.
"Open it up."
> It'd be impossible to miss the noise of the cell door opening, but only one of the two ponies within reacts to it.
> Autumn Frost raises her head, looking at you with an expression of tired resignation.
> "It's our time, isn't it?"
"Yes."
> That one word is all that is needed.
> What more would anything else add?
> Leaning over, Autumn nudges Comet Tail with her nose; her wings were bound and legs hobbled, precluding any other method of contact.
> "Hey, Comet..."
> Her voice is low and gentle, the softest you'd ever heard it.
> "It's time for us to go."
> Two more nudges are needed before Comet rises to his hooves.
> The stallion seems utterly lost in his own world, having remained completely still when the cell door opened and once upright continues to stare dully off into the distance.
> Not even when the chain linking him to the cell wall is removed and transferred to a strap you take between your teeth does he respond.
> Just marches forward, hoof in front of hoof, through the cell block.
> Signs of what they had been through are obvious; each still bears a gauze pad carefully strapped down over where they had branded, and another pad was taped to Comet Tail's forehead.
> Missing too were the tips of Autumn Frost's feathers.
> That was enough to send a fresh shiver down your spine.
> To have every single flight feather damaged like that was an act comparable to implanting an inhibitor in a unicorn.
> It took not just flight but the flow of magic that a Pegasus always felt through their wings - a sense as subtle or tempestuous as the wind itself.
> At least, you thought, mere clipping could be undone.
> Another harsh, buzzing tone and the door in front of you slides open.
> Cold wind lashes your face; the morning had come blustery and chilly with gray skies and the promise of rain later.
> Out into this you push the two prisoners.
> The space beyond is fully enclosed by the twisted wire of a fence; springy and strong - difficult for even a mighty earth pony to tear.
> For these two, it is an insurmountable barrier.
> Even so, their leads are quickly clipped to a bolt sunk into the concrete pad that forms the floor and left there while they wait.
> "Thunderlane, if you want a moment alone with the two of them-"
"Yes."
> Nodding up at the guard, you give a quiet affirmative huff.
"I'd appreciate that, if you could."
> "Sure thing. We'll be watching, if you need help. Or if the truck pulls up, that'll be it."
> Stepping back in through the door into the security building he slams it shut - leaving only the three of you and the chill, biting breeze.
> "Looking to get your own lumps in, since you missed our torture? Put your marks on us too?"
> Gone is Autumn Frost's gentle tone; for you, her typical acidic bite has returned.
"If I were going to beat you, back in the cells where no one can see would have been better. Not that I am anyway."
> "What, then? If you're looking to talk, forget it."
> Yes, she'd always been the quieter of the two.
> And Comet... his loquaciousness is still absent, replaced only by that distant, empty look.
> "They took my magic, Thunderlane..."
> His voice has utterly lost its confident, cocky tone; instead it has a sort of breathy lightness that suggests each word is an effort.
> "I can't feel it at all. I keep reaching for it and expecting it to be there but it's not, and I don't know where it is..."
"What did you expect, going after a pony close to him? And right after he ordered inhibitors on ponies who'd lashed out in fear too?"
> "That he would see... he can't crush us."
> A fresh tremble runs through Comet from nose to tail.
> "...guess we were wrong about that."
> Fixing you with a fiercely accusing glare, Autumn Frost does not even need to speak to make it clear what she thinks:
> You are responsible for this.
> You were the one who found them out.
> You chose to turn them over.
> Responsible.
> Just like that investigator had tried to make you responsible for Chrysocolla's death.
> But this time, you have a choice.
> This time, you can argue back:
"No. You don't have to respond, but you do have to listen to what I have to say."
[Choice]
"You..."
> Hissing softly, you shake your head.
"You disgust me. You act so high and righteous, noble defenders of the cause of Equestria."
> "Says the broken dog serving his master!"
> You hold back a sharp bark of bitter laughter.
> How right Autumn is - you are a broken dog.
> But that still does not make her any better.
"You want to know what you were 'fighting?' A fifteen-year-old who was taken from Equestria when she was still a filly. All the memories of Equestria you and I cling to, all the things we fight for - she only had a fraction of. Mocha Cream grew up being trained a slave, she carried out the job she was given in the house because it was all she knew - and you all made her an exile for that 'crime'! Is it any wonder she clung to Anonymous, even if he owned her?"
> Advancing now, your wings begin to creep out from being pinned at your sides towards a full spread.
"But even after that, even after we were cruel enough to treat her as an enemy, she came to us looking to help us. She wasn't stealing our history, she was the one who brought the idea of keeping it open for everypony to see to Anonymous in the first place!"
> "Yeah, where he can keep it cleaned of anything-"
"You will shut up now!"
> Voice dropped to a harsh growl and eyes narrowed to golden slits, you cut an imposing figure.
> Enough that Autumn Frost's mouth snaps shut with an audible click as she shrinks back; despite your claim not to want violence, she clearly fears being struck.
> But striking is not your intention.
> Not with hoof or wing or tooth, anyhow.
"Regardless of what he did, Mocha Cream was the one who spent the bare little free time she had helping us. She argued for our having a place to show it at all. She was the one who was bringing our things back on the very same trip you cornered and damn near killed her on. And you know what? Everypony else here can see it. See just how insane you really are."
> Lips split to reveal a fearsome grin as you unleash your ace:
"You think Windy Winters was the only one who turned on you? Four different rebels gave us information on you. What you did was so... so disgusting, that they were the first to throw you to Anonymous."
> Both Autumn and Comet Tail recoil in horror.
> "Liar!"
> Autumn's hiss is low and angry, but that the quiet pegasus even felt the need to say that tells you just how much this is getting under her coat.
"No lies. You were sold out by your own, because you went too far. They knew what you really were - just angry ponies who wanted to get your anger out on someone close to Anonymous but didn't have the guts to go after him, and tore up an innocent filly's life instead."
> Angrily she stamps in place, a furious gesture but also one that hides how her legs have begun to tremble.
> Comet Tail...
> He just looks hollow.
> As if your admission had freshly ripped him open and cut out whatever had been left of him inside.
"You think I'm a broken dog? You're right. But so are you - you were broken by the slavers the second you decided to beat Mocha Cream like that. And I wonder, Autumn - I really wonder if you could look your colt in the eye and tell him what you did was right. I wonder if you thought for a second that there might be a mother and father wishing to see Mocha again. I wonder if you thought that Anonymous might be able to find your colt for you, bring you back together!"
> Huh.
> You're shaking too.
> That's new.
> You must've been more riled up than you realized.
> The fully-spread wings, the legs spread in a stance that screams challenge, that you'd expected.
> Not the shaking.
> ...whatever.
> A distant but rising rumble of an engine suggests your time alone with them is coming to an end anyway.
> Backing off, you retreat a few steps and drop to your haunches - now just watching them passively.
> Regaining her nerve, Autumn pushes herself up again and hisses back:
> "Don't you dare try and lecture us on family. I can't understand how your brother can look at you!"
> All she gets in return, though, is a little grin.
"Rumble knows well what I do, and he understands why. He even helped Mocha when she came down into the camp."
> At her shocked expression, your smile only grows.
"I've betrayed, Autumn. You're not wrong about that. I betrayed the escape."
> Telling her this before she is on the truck out is probably a mistake, but something - some anger long buried in your chest - pushes you on:
"I sent six ponies to the whipping post, and I kept Celestia knows how many more from running away to freedom. Maybe even sent them to their deaths, when they scattered without a plan or leader. I'll be regretting that until I go up to join the Great Herd. But you-"
> Turning your head, you extend a wing forward to meet your muzzle.
> Quickly brushing it along the wing, you find a looser covert and tug it out.
> The feather is spit out to drift down to the ground at her shackled hooves, like a great flake of ash.
> A second later the wind catches it, carrying it through the fence surrounding you and away.
> Autumn's eyes are wide, whether at your revelation or the old pegasus gesture - saying that to pluck your own wings was worth spiting her - you don't know.
> Over the motor's rising noise, you finish your statement:
"-but you, I won't spend a second repenting for. You deserved this. "
 
> The guards move quickly once the truck pulls up, marching you across to the camp's gateway under guard.
> A few ponies, out amid their daily duties, pause to look at you.
> Too far away to call out to.
> To reveal Thunderlane's treason.
> Maybe they would see what the six-cursed slavers were doing to you, and have their eyes opened.
> More likely not.
> So many, broken beyond any hope of helping.
> At the truck's side shackles are quickly exchanged, Comet Tail and yourself heaved up into the truck bed, chained to its metal floor, and the door unceremoniously slammed behind you.
> Alone with your thoughts and your pain.
> The brand ached, a constant throbbing of endless pain that seared into fresh agony when the truck shifted into movement.
> Old pains littered your body, from the less-than-kind handling the guards had given you or where you'd strained against the gibbet as Anonymous had tortured you and Comet Tail.
> Comet...
> If there was one thing you regretted, it was him.
> There was just enough light creeping into the truck to see his outline, to see the glint of light off of his eyes.
> He did not deserve this.
> He'd followed you faithfully, brought others into the circle, been a bulwark at your side.
> And for this, Anonymous had sentenced your ally - your friend - to a torture that would continue even when the brand had healed.
> You had seen how much the implant did to him.
> Little spasms when he tried some every day action, reached for his magic, and found it cut off.
> Whimpers and twitches in the few hours of rest he got, legs spasming in their chains as he galloped through dreams devoid of Princess Luna's protection.
> You should have done more to protect him.
> Given him a mask for when you delivered justice to Anonymous' whore.
> Kept a closer eye on who he was bringing in.
> Something to-
> "Autumn?"
> He must've seen you watching him, and his eyes met your now too.
"I'm sorry, my friend."
> Stretching out, you try to nuzzle him.
> The chains only just allow your nose the barest brush against his side.
> "Was it worth it, Comet? Did we do right?"
> His voice is shaky and weak, and you wish you could say yes.
 
> This gathering is the second time you have seen all the camp's ponies gathered in one place in recent days.
> Of course, there are two major differences:
> One, that no hours of work would be missed for this; it was Sunday, and they were making full use of their available time.
> Second, and perhaps more important, was that they were not here by order for a sentencing but by free will for something far better.
> Cadance stands before the doors to the new building, its fresh paint still gleaming in the morning sun.
> Allowing the ponies to build their own structure had yielded something so very far different from the function-first buildings that dominated the camp.
> It had an irregular, almost haphazard appearance; a riotous multitude of colors had been painted on that still somehow managed not to clash, while expertly-carved buntings lined the walls while windows large enough for a pegasus to fly in through lined both stories.
> Like something, you thought, from their old homeland.
> How appropriate.
> The bleak cloudiness that had accompanied the last two rebels' departure had vanished alongisde them, being replaced by an early-spring sun that warmed the chilly air; ponies stood in close clusters for warmth but with heads raised to soak in the rays.
> So too did it illuminate the new building, causing it to almost glow.
> You, on the other hand, hung back towards the edge of the crowd - a pair of guards at your shoulders.
> Hostile wasn't exactly accurate, but this was not a welcoming crowd.
> "Everypony!"
> Stepping forward, Cadance briefly launches herself aloft with a few beats of her wings to gain their attention.
> "Everypony, please, I would like to speak!"
> That's another thing that is different:
> No stage for her to stand on.
> There was a microphone though, hovering by her head in a field of magic - you'd figured lending her some speakers would be worth it for this occasion.
> When the crowd's soft muttering dies, Cadance drops back to the ground.
> "Thank you - thank you, all. I... don't exactly know what words are right for this moment, but there's so much that's lead up to this. I know our thoughts have all been with Equestria, with all that we've lost. Certainly, it hasn't ever left my mind. That memory carries us forward on wings of hope - the idea that we might some day leave this bondage and return to the lives we had."
> Turning, she looks up at the building behind her.
> "But the first step in that is to make sure Equestria is never forgotten, to make sure we never give in to the weight of despair or anger and let those dark feelings rule us. This building - this place - this is our first step. The things here will ensure that if we ever need to remember what we strive for, if we want our colts and fillies to know why we cannot let go, then we can come here. If we are overcome by frustration, so will this place offer a measure comfort - a place to relax alongside everypony else here..."
> It's downright rebellious, you think to yourself.
> Every fear you'd held about this place being used to reignite rebellion stirs back to life.
> How could it not?
> Remembering was one thing, but the way she is talking - it makes it sound like working for you is only temporary.
> Well, too late to interrupt her - let alone take away the building - now.
> Thank God the inspectors had already retreated to finish their report somewhere else; seeing this could leave you with some very pointed questions on an entirely different line of investigation.
> Well, you were committed now and so was Cadance.
> ...or was she?
> Despite the warming sun, a shiver runs down your spine as you remember how she had actually seemed to consider the idea of being left to Eric's attention as 'punishment' for her mistake.
> Yes, it had been a mistake - a grievous one.
> Probably worthy of some sort of punishment - but that?
> What was going on in her head?
> At least you'd convinced her to wait a while.
> She'd reconsider when she thought about how idiotic the whole idea was... wouldn't she?
> "...and, Anonymous? If you would like to say a few words?"
> Shit!
> Cadance had finished her speech while your thoughts were meandering.
> Stepping forward - guards opting to hang back - you proceed to Cadance's side.
> The crow'd eyes are on you, in all their varied emotions, and ears pointed forwards and waiting for you.
"...the truth is, I don't have much to say. This - this is not mine. I did not make it, I did not put in the time to design or construct it. I did not even choose it in the first place."
> A mutter sweeps the crowd, but you are not concerned.
> Not about this, at least.
"This is your triumph. This is your reward. You earned this, all of you, and you should rightly be proud of it. This is what I hoped to see when I founded this place - that I would not have to loom over you at every moment, but that you would find yourself able to manage, even thrive without my supervision. Your effort produced the resources to buy the materials, your choice picked what they were used for, and your dedication to our home here will keep it safe. The truth is I could not even have ordered you to put the effort and love you did into this; it is only something you could do yourselves."
> Glancing down at Cadance, you offer her a slight smile and nod.
"...and Cadance - you especially should be proud of this. You brought them to this, not me alone. You took the lead in this project. You convinced me to allow it. This is your triumph too."
> It doesn't happen all at once, but rather in sporadic groups:
> A few ponies stomp their hooves against the ground in their form of applause, but soon more and more are doing it until the ground is vibrating with the pounding of hooves.
> There, you think to yourself, you see Cadance?
> You are not failing.
> The moment the doors open, ponies stream in eager to see what it had been built within.
> Surging past yourself and Cadance, they form a solid river of color.
> You turn to go; your part in this was done, and despite their applause lingering might not be welcome.
> Once the moment passed, they would surely remember you are their master - not just their friend.
> ...or, maybe it would be most welcome, to be seen acknowledging their 'triumph'?
> No, this was - and would only ever be - their moment.
> You couldn't force your way in without being an intruder, an invader.
> They wouldn't be able to look at you without wondering if you were scoping out which works to remove or claiming some portion of their success for yourself.
> A little part of your mind suggests that maybe it would have been a good idea to be an invader - to remind them that in the end, even their triumphs did actually belong to you.
> But not at this moment; there would always be chances to come back in the future.
> This moment really was theirs to enjoy.
> Besides, looking at the sheer mass of equinity pushing through those doors you can't help but think that there'd be some physical difficulty in getting in.
> A small grin playing about your lips, you turn and start back towards the manor.
> Barely have you gone a few steps before there is a soft cough at your side.
> Cadance looks up with a questioning expression.
> "Heading back so quickly?"
"Yes. This isn't my moment Cadance, and I'd be wrong to try and push my way into it."
> Her brows knit, an expression which suggests she was almost hoping you would stay a while.
> "You were going to be more involved."
"And I was."
> Turning to face her, you drop to one knee and bring yourself to her head height.
"But Cadance - I wasn't joking about this being your moment. I wasn't even planning on speaking, just watching."
> Not to mention you were going to have a talk with her about what kind of thoughts her own speeches should be invoking.
"There'll be a chance for me to come down later on, take a look then. But I wouldn't want to get in their way."
> Sighing gently, Cadance nods.
> "Okay. I'll be coming up a bit later on, then."
"That's fine."
> The house is, if nothing else, quieter after the hubbub of the crowd.
> Any hope of relaxation, however, is dashed when you see the letter resting on your work desk.
> Once, Mocha would have delivered those to you in person; now, they were simply left on your desk by whatever member of the house staff was responsible for it today.
> None of the ponies had really felt comfortable fully replacing Mocha in her duties, even now.
> But that was for another moment; right now, you had larger things to worry about.
> You slit the envelope and pull out the letter within, unfolding it and pausing to consider the official federal letterhead it had been typed on.
> No point in waiting; refusing to read it would not change the outcome.
> Taking a seat, you begin to scan down the letter:
> 'Mr. Anonymous,
> Per our investigation into your facilities as a result of a tip placed on our hotline regarding the mistreatment and death of equine property...
> ...investigators dispatched to your premises to further determine the truthfulness of these claims...
> ...per the autopsy conducted by your property and further inspection of the body by our personnel to verify the statements therein...
> ...interviews conducted with your employees and property...
> ...come to the conclusion that no mistreatment of your equine property has occurred, and all claims as to such are baseless.'
> It is all you can do to avoid jumping up and dancing in place.
> As is, you fall back against the chair with a soft whoop.
> You were safe.
> The gamble payed off.
> No fines, no further investigations, and certainly no actual serious penalties that could be inflicted if those dug up your actual mistakes.
> You'd have to find a way to reward Mellowheart.
> She'd done well.
> Or would that seem like you were bribing her, paying her off for sparing you a worse report?
> Ah, well.
> That could wait.
> For now, you were content to be happy with what you had.
> Unfolding the letter again, you go back to reading through the rest.
> 'On account of the suicide of a mare belonging to you, this report will remain on permanent record regarding your business and facility. This should not taken as an indication of guilt or accused guilt on your behalf. It will, however, be considered should future investigations be undertaken at any time...'
> So, you weren't in trouble - yet.
> But if something flew out of control again...
> Well, Haute was well and gone.
> And it wasn't likely you'd pull another Corona - you wouldn't let yourself, and neither would Cadance.
> Carefully re-folded, the letter is tucked back inside its envelope and set aside for filing.
> The news has put you into a far better mood.
> Alongside the opening of the museum - who would have ever thought the ponies would applaud you? - it left you with the sense that things were, in fact, looking up again.
> And then Cadance went and lost her mind.
> ...
> The first warning you get is the cell phone buzzing in your pocket.
> Swiping the call open, you wave aside the pair of earth ponies studying maps spread across the table you stood at.
"Gene, what is it?"
> "Anonymous, why didn't you tell me there was a problem with Cadance?"
"Problem? I didn't think there was one."
> Silence is his answer, and one that starts a fresh feeling of worry forming in your belly.
"Gene, what's going on?"
> "She just went on the PA. Sentenced herself to a day in a cell 'for further punishment' over what happened with Randall's mare, talked it up like a huge deal. Where are you?"
> That utter madpony, she actually did it.
"Fucking - I'm out in the fields, looking over the survey results for the expansion."
> You're already moving, though, marching for the motorized cart that brought you out here.
> God damn it; Cadance hadn't said a thing about this in the days since it'd been brought up and then pushed off.
> That she'd forgotten about it - especially after the museum's opening had gone so well - had seemed like the logical conclusion.
> And evidently a mistaken one.
"How bad is it? Are we looking at a riot?"
> "Not yet. The other ponies - Bon Bon, Crescent Moon - on the PA with her; I think they held back the worst of it."
> Snorting softly, you shake your head.
> No clue what Bon Bon's beef with Cadance was, unless there'd been a falling out between them over the escape's failure.
> But it figured she would bring Crescent Moon to back her up - one of the few ponies who would unhesitatingly condemn Cadance to significant punishment for losing control of her emotions.
"Where is she now? If I finish up out here first, is it going to be a problem?"
> "Somewhere in the facilities. Do not think so."
"Then I'll be up in a bit. I want to get this done first."
> Cadance actually precedes you back to the manor; she is already waiting in your office, belly on the floor and head resting between her forehooves.
> One eye turns to look at you, paused halfway in through the door.
> Shutting it carefully, you walk to her side and squat down - a frown stamped on your face.
> "You're angry with me."
"I didn't think you'd actually do it, Cadance!"
> "Then you lied to me."
"No - yes - augh!"
> Rubbing your forehead, you fall back to seat yourself fully on the floor.
> After a moment she lifts her head, turning to study you with worried eyes.
"...if there's anything I'd actually punish you for, it's going over my head like this. It's completely unacceptable."
> "Three days. You said so - what was I supposed to think? And the investigators are gone, your negotiations are in a pause, the museum's open, and there aren't any other crises. I've set things up to let Mayor Mare handle the camp for a day... when else, Anonymous?"
> She really is determined to see this through.
> Fine; you can work with her.
> But that doesn't mean you have to play her game.
"Alright. Follow me."
 
> Despite every rational urge telling you not to, your eyes travel around the cell the moment you step in.
> What they see is enough to make you rear back, one forehoof lifted defensively.
> The racks lining the walls are littered with tools that promise nothing but pain and misery.
> Tools some of which have undoubtedly been used on ponies - on your ponies.
> Off to one side, one of the very same cage-like frames that Autumn Frost and Comet Tail had been secured in draws your eye.
> Anonymous, standing just behind you, leans over and murmurs:
> "Having second thoughts?"
> Your hard swallow is all the answer he needs; a soft hand rests on your withers.
> "There's no shame in backing out of this, Cadance."
"No."
> Regaining control, you force yourself forward.
> Behind you the door shuts, making you jump in place - wings half spreading, as if you could fly in this tiny place.
> With a disconcertingly soft hand Anonymous guides you over towards that nightmarish frame.
> "Here, let me show you - that's it, step up easily now, lift your legs over that and onto that platform... that's it, now lay your belly onto this bar, chin up there..."
> Head hanging but heart strong, you passively allow him to show you how to mount the frame.
> Somewhere along the line, as he starts to close the shackles and tighten the straps that hold you in place, a trembling had started.
> Your head was restrained in place by the heavy bridle that left you unable to even turn it and a strap wound around your wings forced them upright and together, away from your sides.
> The net result is a feeling of utter helplessness.
> Some tentative squirming verifies that there was no room to move.
> All you can do is watch as Anonymous selects an inhibitor and slips it down your horn.
> "Are you ready?"
> In for a bit, in for the bullion.
"Yes."
> A click, and the inhibitor snaps firmly onto your horn.
> Immediately you gasp, lungs filling as much as the frame holding you allows.
> Magical inhibitors were nothing like when you and your aunts had given up your magic to Twilight for safekeeping, or even like the suppression pills' obfuscating haze.
> This was a brutal, crushing grip that cut your magic off like the blood to a limb under a torniquet.
> A constant awareness that something should be there, but was not.
> And you'd subjected Crescent Moon to this every time she re-enabled her inhibitor.
> A filly her age, experiencing her magic cut off over and over...
> Dimly you become aware that you were panting shallowly.
> Somewhat in response to the inhibitor, but also because Anonymous was moving again:
> Barely in the range of your peripheral vision, shifting something around.
> Selecting the first tool of your punishment, no doubt.
> ...whatever it is, it sounds heavy.
> Panic begins to edge its way up from easily-ignorable background noise to something more significant; you truly were at his mercy now and at no point had you actually talked about what he was going to do.
"Anonymous, I..."
> "Yes, Cadance? Rethinking things?"
> You squirm in the shackles and straps, trying to find even a millimeter of free movement.
> Is this what Autumn and Comet had felt?
> Unable to do anything more than wait for it to begin?
"...no, I just-"
> "Good."
> And with that one word, he forces you back into silence.
> He wouldn't go to far...
> ...right?
> "Ready, Cadance?"
"Yes, Master."
> Why do you sound so damn weak!
> What is with you?!
> Stepping out from behind you, Anonymous carries with him - a folding chair?
> Yes, a folding chair which he carefully sets up in front of you and sits down in.
> "Cadance, why are you here?"
> The question - the entire act - catches you entirely off guard.
"I - I don't know. No one knows why the worlds connected, except maybe my auntie-"
> "Not that. I mean, why are we in this cell, here, right now?"
> This, you have even less of a reply to.
> The obvious answer is because you'd done wrong - but he obviously knew that, so what was he looking for?
> "I have a lot of ponies here, Cadance. Had, even before you came. I've seen some ponies who suffered in slavery... but you, telling me to put you in for a day of torture?"
"Crescent Moon was sentenced for the same thing, and I'm no filly-"
> "She was sentenced to a few lashes at the post, not a whole day of punishment. Come on, Cadance - the last time I had you in chains, you tore into me without any hesitation! Now you're trying to excuse me punishing you?"
> Finally, you identify the tone in his voice:
> Worry.
> Real, serious, worry.
> "I wanted to break you, as in I wanted to see you stop pushing active rebellion. But this... Cadance, you just walked into a cell and helped me restrain you. You know what this thing-"
> He motions to the frame you are strapped into.
>"-is used for. And you did it anyway. That doesn't make me relieved, that makes me worried. This isn't normal, and I'm not lifting a finger until you can give me a damn good reason why I should."
"You agreed!"
> Surging forward in your restraints, you try and reach out for him - eyes beginning to blur with dampness.
> Even with your alicorn strength, however, this does little more than make the frame creak.
> With your magic cut off and wings bound, you were completely unable to do more than struggle meaninglessly.
"We talked about this, and you agreed-"
> "To bring you down here. I also told you that I would be the one doing it. That the punishment would be at my discretion. So tell me, Cadance - why should I hurt you?"
"Why?"
> You're shaking again - not of fear, but of anger now.
> Or at least, shaking as much as the bindings allow.
"Aren't you listening to me? I - I screwed up. I failed them. Again! After I condemned them to - to this for-"
> "Again, Cadance?"
> He's leaning forward, face nearing your own with a hard look on it.
> "I don't happen to remember you lashing out at anyone like you did at Haute before - not anyone who didn't deserve it. Unless there's something you need to tell me?"
"Not like that! I am their princess. I should be protecting them, not ordering them whipped!"
> Anonymous rocks back in his head, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.
> "God, I should have seen this coming for so long. After all, when I told you to pass judgement on your ringleaders you decided to put yourself up and take both the punishments you offered them..."
"I was their leader. I organized the whole thing!"
> "And you were punished for it. This - you didn't have any part of this!"
> Of course you do.
> You were their leader, their princess still.
"I haven't done anything except force myself to endure the same things they are! I told you, I won't carry myself above them!"
> "An eye for an eye doesn't fit here, Cadance. There's no guilt in doing what you have to do. I don't know how much more I can say that!"
> Snarling angrily, you try to lunge forward again.
> You can feel the bridle's straps cutting in to you, but it barely seems to matter.
> Not compared to the pain now boiling and churning inside of you.
"If I were a real leader - a good leader - I wouldn't have to do that."
> "Being a real leader doesn't mean avoiding the hard choices, Cadance. It means knowing they are hard, and making them anyway."
"Then I wouldn't even let them get there! I'd stop them before they were a problem - wouldn't need to give ponies a chance to do anything wrong!"
> "You're talking about an impossibility."
"No, I'm not!"
> Anonymous stands, looming over you with fists balled and shoulders hunched:
> "How can you even say that, Cadance? How can you know - what, are you supposed to be omnipotent? Omnipresent? You can't-"
"My aunt did!"
> In the few moments of silence that linger after that last outburst, a fresh look of understanding comes over Anonymous' face.
"...auntie - Celestia - she was always so good... if there was trouble, she would be there first and in front, protecting everypony else. She always found a way to - arrange things. To turn somepony back if there was even a drop of good in them. It's my failing if I'm not a good enough leader to stop them!"
> Without warning Anonymous stands, again stepping out of your view.
> When he returns, your heart stops:
> In one hand, was clutched a familiar, coiled whip; you knew from experience the agonies that could inflict.
> Yet it is what he clutches in the other, though, that really holds your attention:
> You'd seen cattle prods before, of course, though never had the experience one being used on your own body.
> But even beyond that, there is no doubt in your mind.
> Somehow you know, with the absolute surety of somepony who needs that certainty, that this was the one he had used on Corona.
> This was the one he had wielded in all his vicious anger.
> Was he finally going to snap?
> Was this it?
> He seats himself again, once more loosely resting elbows on his knees.
> When he speaks again, his voice is so much softer:
> "So, this is it then. This is that why I'm supposed to be punishing you, Cadance? Because you aren't as good as Celestia was?"
"Yes. Maybe. I don't know..."
> You aren't thinking clearly right now.
> Fear sharpens your mind, adrenaline surging into your veins as he raises the prod's tips to brush against your throat.
> He wasn't going to string you along anymore.
> You were going to suffer.
> And-
> "But you aren't your aunt, Cadance. Don't you remember, telling me that?"
> That's true.
> You had, back right after the escape.
> Then why do you feel...
> Rising again, the prod taps at your cheek.
> "Cadance - look at me."
> As you had much of a choice.
> "I don't know how Celestia did it. But you... aren't her. You shouldn't feel bad because you aren't. Now... feelings are one thing. Feelings are understandable. But Cadance... this is verging on self-harm. Look at what you're doing to yourself!"
"Nothing I didn't do to anypony else..."
> Your voice had fallen too - down to nearly a whisper.
> Wings twitch in their bindings, trying to droop.
"I've been failing since this all began. I lost my Shining Armor. I left Flurry Heart alone. I let her fall into slavery. I planned the escape, punished ponies who were only following me, and wasn't there to help guide anypony who'd escaped either."
> In the softest voice possible:
"Why won't you see that? I can't just take credit for the good and not the bad."
> "Because I think you already are taking credit for the bad. Inside."
"Inside isn't good enough! I need to show, to do!"
> "Do you?"
"Yes!"
> Fresh anger boils up, following on the heels of your disappointment with yourself:
"And what happened to you, Mister 'I want you to be a leader'? Aren't you going to hold me to account for all the mistakes I've made? Or what about what I said at the museum? Wasn't that inciting rebellion? Or do I have to show that too! Then what about-"
> You're cut off by a loud, hard pop.
> For a second you think he had triggered the prod against your cheek, but its touch is gone:
> His other hand is empty, though:
> It was a slap that had left your cheek stinging.
> Senses return just in time to hear him speaking again:
> "You want to talk about showing? Then think about what you're showing me now! You walked in here, helped me make you utterly helpless, and then tried to provoke me into hurting you. That's not taking responsibility, that's..."
> Waving his free hand about, Anonymous eventually gives up.
> "...just don't try to bullshit me, Cadance. I know what real rebellion from you sounds like, and this isn't it."
> Your eyes fall again, uncertain emotions still swirling inside of you.
> Relief, of course, that the pain had not come.
> But also disappointment.
"You can't ignore my failures forever, Anonymous. If you do, it will only make them see me as your spoiled pet. And when I do screw things up, it will be truly disastrous."
> "Oh yeah? Name one thing that you've done recently that you caused a 'disaster' with."
"Sending the guards after Chrysocolla! She died, and if the investigators decide you were responsible-"
> "Cadance..."
> His hand is on your cheek, stroking back gently.
> It feels... odd.
> Utterly helpless.
> No room to move.
> Remembering the prod's cold metal kiss, even after it was replaced with his soft touch.
> Maybe that's why you shut up when he started speaking.
> "Cadance, the investigators already cleared me."
> What?!
> "There's not going to be any trouble. Nothing bad is going to come of that, and you're trying to invent reasons for me to punish you."
> No.
> You aren't.
> You're-
> You're just trying to-
> The first tear begins to run down your cheek.
> Seconds later, you collapse entirely - eyes closed and both swimming, sides beginning to heave against the frame holding you.
> It's a wretched, horrid feeling:
> Ribs attempting to expand, only to be constrained by the unyielding straps holding you down.
> Instead you simply lay there, sides now heaving as emotion long anchored down flow forth in a tsunami.
"I don't get it. You're right, I'm looking to be hurt and it's foalish and stupid and it doesn't make any sense."
> "I hear a but there."
"...I still feel like all of this is my responsibility. My fault."
> Then, in a smaller voice:
"I'm broken, aren't I...?"
> "Yes."
> Maybe some part of you had expected him to comfort you, to deny it.
> Or maybe you were just looking for things to argue with him over.
> Instead his answer only pushes you to let even more emotion pour out:
> All the interrogations, when you'd been captured.
> All the sales, moving from one owner to another.
> All the months spent in a literal golden cage, a prize on display.
> None of that had broken you.
> But being given authority, real authority again...
> That had crushed you.
"I try so hard, but everything... every time I never quite make it! Somepony always gets hurt, no matter what do! And someday - someday, if I don't stop screwing it up, everypony's going to be hurt!"
> He doesn't say anything, hands just listening as you vent long pent-up frustrations:
"I'm afraid! Afraid of being this - this completely untouchable thing ruling over them. Afraid nopony will stop me! Afraid that when we all get called to account for what we did for each other, I'll have failed!"
> You're breathing, hard as you can while still strapped into the frame.
"At least when I was a Princess in Equestria there was everypony else to help me, to tell me if I'm doing right. Shiny, Auntie Celestia, Twiley, Sunburst, somepony! Now... now I'm just me, and I am failing!"
> The frame is actually rattling as you shudder in it, restraints and buckles struggling to manage your alicorn strength boosted by raw emotion.
> Amid this you spit out in a bitter, hoarse voice:
"Why can't I be good enough for them...?"
> Anonymous simply watches for a while before again raising up the prod - not to touch you, but to be held in front of your face.
> "And because you're scared, because you don't have anyone to help you along, you think you should've spent a day with this being used on you?"
> It takes you several moments of hard breathing to come up with an answer for that.
> An answer you do have, though, and one that he can't refute so easily.
"Corona. The rest of this... maybe you're right. But Corona wasn't invented. Corona isn't about my aunt. She was my failure. I should've stopped you; it was my duty as her Princess."
> "You aren't their princess anymore, though. And frankly, you weren't in any condition to take another punishment then either!"
> Your voice is raised to a shout, even a shriek:
"But I should have! I should have stood in front of you and refused to move until you forced me aside and or took me and spared her! But I didn't, and she - she was-"
> Swallowing hard, you manage to force yourself to look him straight in the eye:
"I want to know what happened to her. I want you to show me."
> "Cadance-"
"No! This time - I have to know."
> Instead of responding to that, though, Anonymous' hand reaches out to stroke down your mane.
> "I wonder though, Cadance... how long has it been since you had someone to admit things like this to? How long have you been alone? I promised to be open to you, but who are you open with?"
"No one. I wonder if this is how my aunt felt - always the ruler on the throne, never the pony..."
> There's no hesitation in the answer, only a shuddering breath drawn in filled with pain.
> A long silence follows that, at the end of which Anonymous sighs softly.
> "You've put me in a rough spot, Cadance. The truth is there are things I need to hold you to account for - yes, including some things that might include punishment."
"Then do it. Isn't that what I've been asking for?"
> Anonymous continues right on as if you hadn't even spoken:
> "But while you're in a state like this, I'm not sure how safe I feel doing it. I think, maybe, that letting this pass might be better-
"No!"
> "-but I'm also concerned about what just letting it linger is doing to your head. So: I will show you some of what she endured. But that will be it. After this - you swear to me this will not happen again. We sit down, and we have a talk about this and any future you feel have to answer for. Do you understand?"
"...yes."
> "...if I do this, will you be able to explain it? Not to me, not to Thunderlane or any of your other confidants, but to anypony I choose?"
> This time, you have to give it a pause for thought.
> Could you really explain this?
> Admit you were broken?
"I can."
>...
> Pain.
> Your entire body is pain.
> Anonymous had taken you out of the frame's constricting grasp, but it had only been a moment's respite.
> What replaced it was almost worse.
> Your forehooves were shackled together and stretched in front of you, while your hindhooves were similarly outstretched behind.
> In between, your body bowed under its own weight - stretching joints and bending your spine, tightly-bound wings useless for supporting you.
> Your hips and shoulders in particular are white-hot centers of agony as they were rotated far beyond what any pony's limbs ought to be able to do.
> The weighty steel collar anchored around your throat made every second you lifted your head an effort.
> As if a final touch, the strain on your ribs forces each breath come shallow and unsatisfying.
> Almost like you were almost choking.
> While the heavy bridle that wrapped around your head did not prevent you from speaking, only whimpers escaped your lips so far.
> Finishing tightening the chains, Anonymous stands back and examines you with a look you cannot quite place.
> A mixed expression, you think, one part satisfaction and one sadness.
> In between heavying breaths, you manage to wheeze out:
"This ... she suffered ... through this?"
> "Yes. The first day she was whipped too."
> Whipped.
> Celestia help you, you can barely imagine.
> Each blow forcing muscles to jump and unleashing new torrents of agony as joints were re-strained.
> How had she even survived?
> A soft touch to your coat pulls your attention back to the immediate.
> Anonymous had placed his hand on the underside of your sweat-dampened ribcage, just between your forelegs - feeling your heart beating at a furious pace.
> You can feel it too, hammering relentlessly.
> Against your slender, narrow frame - once considered elegant, and something you had considered yourself blessed with - the stressful position had stretched your hide tight as a drum.
> Each and every rib stood out, straining against the skin.
> Yet the worst thing of all is how helpless the position feels.
> With that single touch Anonymous had made it clear he could do anything he pleased to you:
> Belly, ribs, flanks, groin - everything was exposed to whatever torments he might use.
> A fresh tremor runs through your body, tears leaking from your eyes both at the pain reawakened by the movement and the understanding of what Corona must have experienced.
> Alone, each moment turned to an eternity of agony, no sense of what was coming, abandoned by the one pony she must have trusted would protect her absolutely?
> How had she survived?
> And you have the safety of the knowledge that Anonymous will not truly try to break you.
> Corona had no such luxury.
> Cast into an abyss of torment and uncertainty - you have no idea how she managed to hold out for so long.
> As if sensing that your thoughts were drifting, Anonymous again intervenes - seizing hold of your mane and pulling your head aside to face him.
> "Now, Cadance... explain to me. Why am I doing this to you?"
"B-Because I put - aaaagh! - put Corona through-"
> "Wrong."
> The prod's pop and snap makes your blood freeze, even though he had not even touched it to you.
> Now firmly having your attention, though, Anonymous lifts the prod to again settle its cold, metal fork into your throat.
> "Now. Explain to me again. Why. Should. I. Do. This."
> Heart rising up into your throat, your mouth opens to answer then snaps back shut with an audible click.
> No, can't be hasty.
> Can't be-
"Because I failed her, just like I'm failing everypony e-"
> Your vision flashes, lungs locking up and refusing to pump as a high keening noise fills your ears.
> It takes a moment or two for you to realize it is your own scream.
> How long did it last?
> A minute?
> Or a single second stretched out to an eternity?
> You don't know which - only that when it is over you slump back down in your chains only to find that the spasms had increased the pain of hanging there ten times over.
> All hope of logical thought is gone, reason and ration blasted away by the prod's shocking touch.
> "Now. Explain."
> But you did!
> You told him exactly what you were-
"Because I'm not good enough for them! They think - they think I can solve everything! Be the pony my aunt was! I-"
> This time the prod met your vulnerable, soft belly.
> A pinpoint of pure, white-hot, fizzing agony that sends your entire body into a fresh round of spasms.
> How long this time?
> Five seconds, ten, a hundred?
> Fog edges at the corners of your vision even after the shock ends, any coherent train of thought thoroughly derailed.
> Your scream peters out, heavy heaving sobs - as deep as your constrained lungs will allow - coming in its place.
> Above this all, Anonymous is talking again:
> "No. That isn't it. Why did you demand this? Why did you push me into this? Don't you lie to me!"
> An immediate answer comes to your lips.
> Not but because any hesitation has likewise melted away under the onslaught of pain and chaotic emotions whirling in your head.
"Because I don't want to be a spoiled bitch like Haute was! If I start excusing myself-"
> The middle of your back now, between your wings - electrical surges sending the limbs into especially wild spasms, though they could not move against the bindings still holding them tight.
> Your throat is hoarse and raw; you can feel each the vibrations of your scream against the steel collar.
> "Still not telling me the truth, Cadance!"
> He taps your belly again with the prod, and the touch of the metal to your coat alone is enough to draw a shriek from your lips.
> "You're giving me things that add up to your reason. Now, why did you want this?"
> Mind running a miles a minute, you're only able to fruitlessly struggle in the chains - an instinctual response, no matter how much it agonized your joints.
> What more could you give him?
> You'd told him everythi-
> Fresh terror floods your body as the prod's cold tips find their way down along your belly, stopping pressed ever-so-lightly into a teat.
"Because I'm scared! I'm scared and I don't know what to do anymore and everything made so much more sense when you were just my captor and sometimes I just want to go back and then I'd know the right way and please no Master don't shock me agaaain!"
> Automatically you tense up, eyes screwed shut in expectation of the prod's searing touch.
> But nothing ever comes.
> After a second you dare to open your eyes.
> Anoonymous was not even standing anymore, having sunk back down to his seat:
> Face resting in the palm of one hand, while the other loosely holds the cattle prod.
> Even as you watch, the awful tool slips from nerveless fingers to clatter against concrete.
> "She never really begged, you know..."
> After a moment, he looks back up - face a twisted mix of emotions that doesn't seem to know where to settle.
> "From the beginning. She never gave in, right until the end."
> Swallowing hard, Anonymous stands again.
> "Would you like to get down from there now, Cadance?"
> Nose stuffed from your running tears, you have to swallow hard before answering:
"Yes. Please."
> And so he does:
> Carefully you are lowered to the floor - exhausted legs folding beneath you.
> Body returning to something a normal position, lungs finally able to draw air freely, the binding around your wings removed.
> "Can you walk, Cadance?"
> No.
> Not yet.
> After a few hopeless attempts, you simply fall back to the floor; on the next try you're halted by Anonymous' hand pressing softly on your back.
> "Wait here."
> What follows next is a blur that you struggle to remember in retrospect.
> You remember movement, being carried on something, a blanket draped over you.
> But the next solid moment is defined by softness.
> Placing yourself takes a moment, but familiar memories provide the link:
> His bed.
> You were resting in Anonymous' bed, in his room.
> How had you climbed the stairs?
> It didn't seem likely.
> Who else had seen you coming in?
> Was there going to be a riot?
> Would they-
> "Cadance."
> Anonymous' hand brushes your cheek.
> "Are you back with me again?"
"...yes. I think. I'm here now."
> He was beside you, sprawled out on the bed - his expression now fully turned to concern.
> Trying to right yourself, you belatedly realize two things:
> First, your joints still ached and muscles were still weak; second, your forehooves are still shackled together.
> A quick test proves it is the same with your hindlegs.
> So to was the collar still weighing on your throat, and the bridle's tight straps digging in to your head.
"Why-"
> "Because we're not out of the woods just yet. You just pushed yourself - and me - to do something extraordinarily stupid. Before I let you go again we're going to talk. At the very least."
> Eyes falling, you nod.
> You suppose it was to much to hope for that he would just let that go.
> "You don't have to tell me everything this second. If you want to rest, that's fine. But I do have to know."
"I..."
> Swallowing again, you find an unexpected bitter laugh bubbling up from your throat.
"I don't suppose you have any alcohol I could drink."
> "No, I'd rather not be making a habit of that. There is water, though."
"Please."
> He rises, returning with glass brimming with water so cold and refreshing you almost choke downing it.
> For a moment you meditate on the irony of him serving you, before turning back to the topic at hand.
"I'm... nobody's friend here, Anonymous. Not really. Mayor Mare, Thunderlane, maybe. But not enough. I have nopony to talk to; I'm never a pony, just a princess, a tyrant, a savior, a slave-"
> He stiffens, looking away, and you realize your mistake.
> Anonymous had thought you closer - probably on account of that night after the party.
> ...then there's only one way to fix your mistake, isn't there?
"I... when I thought of you as my enemy, my captor, everything was easy. I knew how to fight you. I knew how to rally ponies together, to stand up for what's right. Now, I - I just don't know. I can't understand how it came to ponies being my enemies..."
> "So you tried to put it back to when we were just... enemies. Because then if I overruled you, at least you weren't to blame yourself."
"Ye-no! No, I don't want us to be enemies!"
> Or do you?
> Right now, your mind is still a confusing mess of emotions and ideas.
> "Good. Because frankly, not only do I not want to go back to that, but the things I regret the most? Corona? That happened when we were enemies."
"But ponies are still being hurt now."
> "By their choice. Not yours, or mine. And don't you dare say your Aunt could have stopped it; that's not relevant."
"I wasn't going to."
> "Good."
> Lifting your head, you study him again.
> Now it is Anonymous' turn to look away, staring out the window towards the camp.
> "You said you were broken."
"Yes. I am. What kind of pony would welcome torture? What kind of Princess of Love wants to go back to hating? I am broken."
> Your chin falls to the bedding, heedless of the way the collar's metal pressed into your throat.
> "Well. First of all, I'd disagree with a lot of that. Not only are you still kicking, but really-"
> Abruptly his arm slips around your neck, pulling your head up and in to his chest:
> "-second of all, you're not the only one who's changing. Do you think, months ago, I'd have put up with the kind of talk you gave at the museum? That I would have hesitated for a second to take a whip to you? Or stopped when you cried out?"
> Your nostrils flare, drawing in his scent as you mediate on that.
> The answer, of course, is obvious.
"No."
> "Then if you're 'broken', maybe you aren't the only one. Maybe you're still doing that whole 'spread love and friendship' thing, and you don't even realize it."
"Maybe..."
> You whisper, blowing a heavy breath out, and nestling in your head against his shirt.
> In response his hand trails down your neck and down to your back, stroking over muscles strained and tense from your experience in the cell.
> Even now, though, a growing whisper in your head was giving you no rest.
> 'Traitor', it says, 'taking comfort with the enemy. Finding solace with a slaver.'
> 'He tortured you; how can you be comfortable here?'
> All the strength is gone from your limbs, though, and with hooves shackled you couldn't remove yourself if you wanted.
> Or maybe that is just an excuse.
> Maybe you're just glad to have someone to vent all your misery, all your true helplessness to.
> Even if he is a slaver.
> "Cadance?"
"Yes?"
> "You said you could explain why you demanded going through with that."
"I did."
> "Wait here."
> The door shuts after him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
> Had you 'broken' Anonymous too?
> Certainly he was less prone to cruelty than when you'd arrived.
> More willing to work with you.
> But this was the same man who had sent Autumn and Comet to their fates with a hot brand each.
> Nothing about that could be described as remotely good.
> So was he really-
> "Momma?"
> Your heart misses a beat.
> Anonymous had returned, with Flurry Heart riding comfortably in his arms.
> No.
> Not her.
> Anypony but her.
> Curling your hooves beneath the bedding - at least they, and the chains they bore, were still hidden from her eyes.
> You'd once heard it said that if it can't be explained to a foal you don't understand it yourself - but how could you explain this to your own daughter?
[Choice]
"I..."
> Your tongue seems leaden, throat swollen shut again.
> How could you tell her?
> How could you expose her to this misery?
> Flurry Heart's future was supposed to be one of warmth, kindness, safety, and shelter for all ponies around her.
> Not a harsh existence of regrets for those she could not save.
> Moaning softly, you squeeze your eyes shut and flick your ears down and back - ignoring another panicked call from your daughter.
> "Momma?!"
> Anonymous had said he wanted her to lead another camp eventually.
> Would she face the same horrors you were?
> Again your stomach contorts.
> Even if he waited for her to be grown, a young pony should not have that kind of weight on her back!
> "Momma! What's wrong?!"
> For the briefest moment your eyes flick open - just long enough to see them both looking at you, eyes wide and concerned.
> A brief burst of anger sweeps through you:
> Anger at Anonymous for bringing your daughter into this.
> How dare he?
> What demanded that he destroy a filly's innocence, her belief in her mother?
> He had done this once before - told her you had been a bad pony.
> Preyed on her wholehearted belief that what her Master told her was the absolute, uncorruptible truth.
> And on your visceral need for your daughter's approval.
> Or was this anger at your own inability to admit that you could not explain this?
> That you were blindly flailing in the dark, seeking some way to lead your ponies that did not involve subjecting them to punishments?
"Flurry, I..."
> Suddenly she is there on the bed, right in front of you, rearing up on her hind legs with a few beats of her broad wings to reach for your neck.
> Little hooves slip around your neck and a muzzle buries itself against your shoulders, just below where the collar encircles your throat.
> You want to hug her, but even if your hooves were not shackled together you doubt there is enough strength left in your legs to do so.
> Instead what comes out is veritable tsunami of words:
"Oh, Flurry Heart - I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I never meant to leave you - oh, Harmony forgive me, I never meant it! I didn't want to-"
> Bending even further up, Flurry Heart brushes her nose against your jaw.
> "Were you a bad pony, Momma?"
> Again your heart flips and stomach wrenches at the sheer sadness in her voice.
"Yes."
> Whispering softly, you droop your head - letting Flurry Heart continue nuzzling into your cheek.
"I left you out there, in the cold without me, let you be captured and taken and I should have been there to stop them-"
> All your tears had been spent, but somehow you a fresh sob finds its way up from your throat.
"-and now, now I tried to go back to fighting Anonymous because I just wanted things to be so easy for me again, even if other ponies were getting hurt. And I know it was wrong, I know I shouldn't have, but I wanted him to hurt me so badly just so I could be angry at him again, and-"
> Clamping her legs around your neck again, your daughter whimpers:
> "Please don't be a bad pony, Momma. Please don't hate Master. I don't want him to go away."
"But I left you! I let you be taken by them, let you be left to rot and starve and if I had been there-"
> For just a second, she seems to hesitate.
> Then her answer comes:
> "But I'm here now. You're here now. I'm not hungry, and I'm not alone. And Anonymous doesn't hurt me. He even-"
> She shoots a questioning look at your owner, who nods an affirmative.
> Leaning in, Flurry drops her voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper:
> "-he even spanked Mistress Megan for being mean to the other ponies!"
> Despite the fierce pain you still feel, a little laugh manages its way to your lips.
"Truly?"
> "Uh-huh. Right in front of Thunderlane too! So Momma - please don't make him hurt you too. Please?"
> Damn Anonymous.
> Damn him to Tartarus for all eternity!
> How dare he use your daughter against you like this?
> But you cannot deny the reality of what you feel.
> Lifting your head, you please a soft kiss on Flurry Heart's muzzle.
"I won't be a bad pony, Little Gem. I promise, I won't."
> After a moment Anonymous' hand touches your shoulder.
> "Do you want to wash up, Cadance?"
"Yes, I... I think I'd like that very much."
> "Here. Show me your hooves?"
> You do, and he separates the shackles to hold a shortly length of hobbling chain between both fore and hind hooves.
> Enough to awkwardly shuffle with, if not truly walk freely.
> "Do I need to go with you?"
"No, I think I will manage on my own."
> The limiter on your horn, at least, had been removed; with hooves shackled your magic would still allow you to shower.
> Even the collar and bridle were... manageable.
> Being forced to limp about in chains was humiliating enough; you were not going to allow him to wash you like a foal!
> As a bonus, washing up gave you a few minutes alone to collect your thoughts.
> Scorching water cascades off your back, easing out knots in muscles driven in by your torturous experience.
> Your eyes close again, submerging your head in the cleansing flow.
> In retrospect, of course, it seems the ravings of a madmare.
> How could you have ever wanted to go back?
> The allure of simpler times hid a poisonous bite.
> No.
> You had to forge ahead.
> Somehow.
> Again you cast a silent wish that Shining Armor was here.
> While your destiny might be to spread love, his relentless drive and sense of justice balanced you perfectly.
> But he was gone - another casualty of slavery.
> You must face this alone-
> Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly find yourself tumbling - a clatter of hooves against porcelain tile as you slip on the slick floor.
> Instinctively you try and reach out and steady yourself on spread hooves, only for the hobbling chains to catch and still-weak muscles to fail you, bringing you the rest of the way to the floor in an ungainly sprawl.
> Stupid filly; what were you doing?!
> This is no time to be losing track of your own-
> "Cadance? Is everything okay?"
> Your cheeks heat, tail clamping down over your haunches.
> Now it was a debasing, ungainly sprawl as Anonymous peered in with a worried expression.
"Yes, I'll be fine. I just - just need to -"
> Damn these chains!
> Before you can get yourself upright, he is already at the edge of the shower area - reaching in to grab the head from its mount and bring it down to your level.
> "No, just stay there Cadance."
"You'll get wet!"
> "A little. I'll manage."
> Anonymous' tone suggests there is going to be no argument about this, and part of you wonders if that had been his plan all along.
> Kneeling beside you, he pauses just long enough to roll up his sleeves before going to work.
> As the first layers of soap are worked into your coat, you wonder how long it had been since someone had last done this.
> Certainly some of your past owners had staff responsible for bathing you.
> But their work had always been distant somehow, even when they primped and preened you as a polished trophy.
> Professional.
> Whatever his reasons Anonymous was now putting actual, real effort into this - fingers digging deep into your coat, working their way along your bands of muscle as he continues to soap you up.
> He was... forceful, but not harsh.
> Not rough.
> And to your eternal shame you can't help but find yourself enjoying the treatment some.
> Your wings unfold, drooping lazily out to either side - something he takes immediate advantage of, working in a touch of soap along the muscled limbs that support the spans of feathers.
> Shackles, collar, and bridle are all deftly worked around too, fingers digging beneath to send a small shiver down your spine.
> That truly did feel good, and-
> "Roll on your side? I need to get at your underside."
> Oh.
> Right.
> Old shame reasserts itself as you carefully tuck your tail in between your haunches, preserving your modesty while he works.
> Not that it helps much.
> There is still something profoundly vulnerable, something intimate, in rolling over to expose your belly to him.
> As if you needed a reminder that you were ultimately his property and subject to his orders.
> Was this somehow his revenge for your slip of the tongue earlier - reminding him that he was ultimately still your master, not a friend?
> Or somehow how he hoped to show affection?
> Sometimes he truly was an enigma to you.
> "Okay, stand up again? I'm going to rinse you off now."
"One moment."
> More carefully this time, you stand - careful not to overstress your weakened muscles again.
> Taking the showerhead again Anonymous sets it to a heavier spray setting and begins rinsing out all the soap he'd worked in, and you once again close your eyes and simply enjoy the impact of water against your coat.
> It was like a massage in its own way, and simply being able to stand there and enjoy...
> This was a luxury you had not had in a long time.
> As the soap runs out it almost seems to leave your coat feeling lighter, dried sweat from your... experience in the cell earlier washing away.
> Cathartic, almost.
> The last remnants of your mistake going down the drain.
> And-
> Reality comes crashing back as the spray goes up under your tail, sending a jolt of entirely different sensations through your body.
> He had not asked to do that!
> Wings snap out for entirely different reasos as you jolt upright with a small gasp, but the moment is already passed.
> What is not passed is the sharp heating of your cheeks.
> Relaxed as you were, your tail must have come untucked and Anonymous took the moment to... wash off there.
> You don't think he saw anything, and the brief touch of water had been perfunctory and brief.
> But still...
> Head drooping, you hide your still-flushed cheeks in the cascading fall of your mane while he finishes up.
> "All done. Do you need help drying off?"
"No. I will manage."
> This time you put as much effort as you can into the statement.
> Just in case he had any ideas; you needed some time alone to let that unwanted moment pass.
> "Alright. I'll be waiting outside."
> As soon as he is gone, you quickly dry yourself with one of Anonymous' towels.
> Relishing the almost cloudlike softness - you were so lucky to receive them once they were worn and thin.
> Most of the camp's linens were far cheaper cloths.
> The second you step from the bathroom, you stop still at the scene before you.
> Anonymous had Flurry Heart stretched across his lap, a brush in his hand.
> Wings unfolded in twin sprawling fans - a sign of utter relaxation - Flurry barely raises her head as you enter.
> Too delighted by the way Anonymous has been regularly drawing a brush through her mane and coat.
> Sighing gently, you take the brush in your magic.
"You can't brush her mane straight; it won't ever stay that way. You have to curl it."
> "Show me?"
> Carefully clambering up onto the bed, you settle prone onto your belly and stretch out your forelegs.
"Flurry? Come here, Little Gem?"
> Sparing a nervous glance at the shackles, Flurry settles across your slender legs.
> Soon she lulled back to a state of utter relaxation by the repeated passes of your brush.
> Unbidden, an old lullaby you'd once sung to her amid gleaming, crystalline halls comes to your lips.
> At first as only a soft hum, but then more as some lyrics begin to return.
> A warmth begins to flood your heart, but also a pain.
> The last time this had been sung, there had been another at your side too.
> You can almost feel Shining's presence there with you.
> Hear his soft if occasionally off-tune singing, feel his warmth beside you, smell his scent - the strong tones of a stallion, but also the slightest hint of oil and steel.
> Even so, the song only falters once:
> When Anonymous begins to brush your own mane.
> Only a momentary pause though, and soon you resume - your own eyelids growing heavy as the brushing sends fresh, tingling sensations through your scalp.
> At a certain point you realize you have begun to run on instinct alone:
> Humming wordlesssly as you brushed your daughter long after she had fallen asleep, as Anonymous had kept doing the same to you.
> Setting the brush down, you gather your daughter in against your chest and lower your head to rest across her back, nickering gently at the soft touch.
> "If all of you out there are done eavesdropping-"
> Anonymous' tone is laden with amusement.
> "-perhaps it's time to get back to work?"
> For a second you are confused, until a sudden fading of scampering hooves is heard outside the door.
> Instantly you rear back up, flushing hard.
"They - they heard me-"
> "Oh, don't worry. You sing well."
> Still flushing, you scrunch furiously but it's an empty gesture.
"Apparently I am also a fantastic actor, if none of them saw how close I came to madness..."
> "You are. After all, you fooled me too right up until I decided to get directly involved with everything. Though, I hope you see now -"
> Reaching forward, he places a hand on Flurry's side as well.
> "-you aren't failing."
"If you do actually want me to hate you, using my own daughter against me is a very good start."
> He responds with a cocked, questioning eyebrow and you sigh heavily.
"But your point is made. I was... a foalish pony."
> "Extremely."
> Another pause, and then:
> "Cadance... don't ever do that to me again. Remember that when it comes to a lot of this, you are my guide. If you fail, I'm left flailing about blindly... and I don't always make the best choices. I know how to plan, how to manage, and how to enforce. I'm still learning how to lead."
> Then what right, you wonder, does he have to hold you as his chattel?
> But those words remain safely behind your lips, unsaid.
> Instead, you change the topic:
> Glancing down at the filly still asleep in your hooves, you sigh softly.
"I suppose she will have to go back soon..."
> "For today, yes. But there'll be more chances later on, and..."
> Pausing to consider, Anonymous suddenly nods decisively.
> "Another night, she - and Megan - can stay up here as well."
"I..."
> You glance back at your hooves - weighing the desire of seeing your daughter for longer against the cost of yet another seeing you in chains, collar, and bridle.
> In the end, though, it is really no contest.
"I would like that very much, if she could."
> "I'll arrange it."
> Nickering and brushing her back with the tip of your muzzle one last time, you lift Flurry up to Anonymous.
> He vanishes through the doors with her, but returns before too long.
> In that time, though, you've come to another decision.
"I can't go back out right now. Not just because of this-"
> You raise a hoof to indicate the shackle still locked around it, and by extension the bridle and collar.
"-but I'm too weak right now."
> "I know. You'll stay the night."
"Thank y-"
> "Longer than a night, actually. Cadance, I'm taking you off leadership duty for a while."
"What?! You can't take me away from them-"
> "I can and I will, Cadance. If I send you right back out there, you'll be liable to crack again. And like I just said, I can't have that."
"Then who will lead them?"
> "You said it yourself - things are more stable at the moment; Mayor Mare can manage some, and I will learn as well. I might even consult you, but you need time without stress."
"No convincing you otherwise, I sense."
> "Cadance, I will shackle you to the God-damn bed if that's what it takes to keep you from burning yourself out."
> Your muzzle wrinkles again.
"...let us avoid that, please."
> "Agreed. Besides, Flurry needs flying lessons once your strength returns and there are other matters at hand..."
 
> Finding Bon Bon is harder than you'd thought it would be.
> The mare is not in the barracks she had been assigned.
> On a hunch, you check the separate barracks Lyra had been assigned to and find them similarly empty.
> Questioning the overseers for both their assigned workplaces finally reveals a lead.
> Hence it is you who is laying in wait this time, curled amid reams of deflated pillows waiting for cloudstuffing.
> Just like she had done so many times you hold off until the door opens and Bon Bon slips into the back room before saying anything.
> Unfortunately, Bon Bon's senses are somewhat more tuned than yours.
> She goes stock-still the second she steps in, nostrils flaring.
> Oh well; you roll from the stack of fabric and land on your hooves, strutting towards her.
"So, this is what it feels like. Y'know, when you'd always surprise me by sneaking into my quarters or something."
> "Thunderlane."
> Her greeting is more of a growl than anything else.
"Hello, Bon Bon."
> "What do you want, Thunderlane? You going to drag us off for being back here together? You'll have to find a new reason; our time is up. We can see each other again."
"I know. I was part of that same business, remember?"
> "Yeah, but you weren't told you can't see-"
> Huffing softly, Bon Bon lashes her tail.
> "Nevermind. Can we have a few moments to ourselves, or does Anonymous need another scapegoat for something?"
> "Bonnie? What's wrong?"
> ...ah.
> Your next question is answered prematurely as a second head pushes through the doorway just behind her; Lyra immediately lays widening eyes on you, her mouth forming an 'O'.
"Hey, Lyra."
> "Hey, Thunderlane."
> A second later, more awkwardly:
> "How's Rumble?"
"Bro's doing alright. He, uh... he's been feeling it a bit hard ever since Mocha Cream was... y'know."
> "Yeah... tell him, I, uh... I'm sorry that all happened. It wasn't right."
> Good to know Lyra's head is screwed on straight then.
"I will."
> Another awkward pause, during which Bon Bon continues glaring daggers at you and which Lyra breaks by scuffing a hoof nervously on the floor and lowering her voice to a tiny whisper.
> "Um... I think - I think I should just go."
"It's alright Lyra. I just wanted to talk; this won't take too long and I'll leave you be after that."
> "Yeah, let me just kick this colt's flank-"
> "No, really. I'll, uh - I'll see you later Bonnie!"
> With a burst of white-and-teal tail and the fading of hoofbeats, she is gone - leaving you alone with her Earth Pony friend.
> "Lyra, wai-"
> Whirling back around, Bon Bon jabs a hoof in your direction - ears pinned all the way back and tail lashing furiously.
> "Now look at what you did! Four months, Thunderlane! Four months we were kept from seeing each other. Now we're finally back together, and you can't even give us a little time to be back together-"
"I didn't actually say anything! I wanted her to stay! Besides, the way you sneak around I bet you've been seeing her anyway."
> "Yeah, well-"
> Face cycling through multiple expressions, Bon Bon eventually settles on a narrow-eyed grimace.
> It's more than enough answer for you.
> "Whatever. Talk fast, Thunderlane."
> Getting straight to the point?
> You can do that.
"Why'd you push Cadance to go throw herself at Anonymous' feet? Do you have any idea of what you've done?"
> Bon Bon snorts angrily.
> "You staked me out to ask about that?"
"Yes! I didn't want to make a scene about it."
> "...fine. I don't like that she's been holding herself - and you - up as something special for us. Dealing with Autumn, Comet, Windy Winters, and Chrysocolla should have been our job, not yours."
"That-?!"
> "Yes, that! Thunderlane, I know you mean well but ultimately you're working for Anonymous. Ponies get turned over to him, they're sold off to die. Now, we wouldn't have been easy on them either - but I don't like that. Not one bit."
"That wasn't exactly part of her plan, you know!"
> Dropping to her haunches, Bon Bon nods.
> "I guessed. But in the end, you - and Cadance - are working for a slaver, and she's trying to make you all something... normal. Get ponies to accept what you're doing. So she comes to me talking about how she'd actually screwed up and imperiled all of us, wondering if it would rile everypony up if she took a hefty punishment for it..."
"You told her that she should take a punishment just like she'd been issuing out."
> Another sharp roll of Bon Bon's eyes.
> "I told her that she could either be one of us - and take the same punishment she gave us - or she could be the princess above us and take on the heavier load that comes with. She made her choice."
> Groaning, you raise a hoof to rub at your forehead.
"She's not trying to hold herself over us, Bon Bon! And she is still our princess, even if she doesn't wear a crown!"
> "Not when she's working for Anonymous, she isn't. And neither are you protecting us when you do his work either!"
"Oh, so I just should've let your mob chase down those ponies instead?"
> "Well maybe if you had, Chrysocolla wouldn't be dea-"
> To her credit, Bon Bon manages to bite her tongue and cut the words off before they can finish.
> Wings snapping out with a puff of air, you still rise up - ready to spit a furious comeback.
> Only to hesitate when she stares shamefully at the floor.
> "I'm sorry, Thunderlane. That wasn't right."
> Biting your own tongue you manage to force your wings down, then drop to a seated position.
"...fine."
> Instead of going on with the argument, Bon Bon rises to approach you - lifting a hoof to rest on your side.
> "I mean it, Thunderlane. I didn't mean to..."
"No, you did. You and everyone else who's been asking me."
> Barking a short, bitter laugh you shake your head.
"And maybe you're right. If you'd gone after her, Chrysocolla wouldn't have been as afraid. But everyone forgets, every time they ask me I ask myself the same thing ten times more."
> Nickering gently, Bon Bon brushes her muzzle against your shoulder.
> "I'm sorry. I don't hate you, Thunderlane. Or Cadance."
"Kinda figured I'd be getting a hoof in the snout instead of an explanation if you did."
> "Yeah. I just - I want everypony to remember what he's doing to us. He's making all of this... normal to us. Turning ponies over to be branded and sold away. That's not right. Tartarus - I want her back the way I knew her. When she always stood up for us."
> Turning, you brush your own muzzle against Bon Bon's shoulder.
> Perhaps unsurprisingly, she smells like candy.
> "I thought this might remind Cadance a bit of where she actually stands. And I knew Anonymous wouldn't hurt her. Not like he did to Corona. He relies on her to much."
"That's - cold."
> Bon Bon draws back from you with a shake of her head.
> "We're living in a cold place now, Thunderlane. She is the one who gave Crescent Moon a whipping."
"I take it you were pushing Crescent to tell Cadance the same?"
> "No, Crescent had her mind pretty much made up on her own."
"Good. She's a filly, and eager to have someone to follow. No offense, Bon Bon, but being lead on by someone looking to kick back at Anonymous already hurt her once."
> "I know. I said I didn't push her infto anything."
"No, but you didn't exactly talk her down either?"
> "Am I supposed to be your advocate, Thunderlane?"
> Bon Bon shrugs.
> "Cadance came to us, asked our opinions, and if we would back up her decision in public. I answered as I would."
> She's at least partially right.
> You should be angry with Cadance for asking the opinion of ponies who were sure to back her up.
> But at the same time...
"You really don't understand what you've done, Bon Bon. Cadance hasn't come back."
> "What?!"
> Eyes wide, she rears up onto three hooves.
"I don't know what he did to her, but she's going to be 'off duty' for a few days at least. Maybe up to a week. The announcement's going out tomorrow."
> Slumping back down, Bon Bon shakes her head nervously.
> "No - no, I didn't mean to..."
"Well, you did. I agree with you, I don't think he'll really injure her. But in the future I suggest you really consider the implications of your choices before making them."
> Bon Bon nods, but keeps her eyes firmly on the floor.
"Now, you want to make up for this? Gather up all your friends and make sure they don't do anything stupid in because of this announcement. If you're so certain Cadance won't be hurt, make sure they're certain too."
> "Yes... Okay, yes! I can do that."
"Good."
> This time it is your turn to reach out and place a hoof to her shoulder.
"I don't hate you either, Bon Bon. But I'm pretty pissed you encouraged Cadance to go beg herself to be tortured."
> "Mmmm."
> Scuffing at the floor with a hoof, the mare looks away again.
> "I... still think she deserved something. Can't be responsible without a higher cost too. She took a whipping and stayed apart from her filly after the escape, you remember?"
> Before you can answer, she keeps going:
> "But - I get what you mean. So I'll make sure nopony does anything more stupid. We can do that."
"Thank you."
> ...
> You finish your dinner quickly that night, so that you can slip from the mess hall quickly and be waiting by the door when Vapor Trail emerges.
> Quickly spotting you, she extends an ivory wing to wave enthusiastically:
> "Thunderlane! Hey!"
"Hey, Vapor."
> Approaching, you nuzzle her gently the mare and softly blow from your nostrils as she meets you nose to nose.
> "Long day?"
"Not the best, but... I think I did as much as I can."
> "Hmm."
> Brushing her nose up along your cheek, Vapor nibbles gently at your ear.
"Hey! Quit that; it tickles."
> Swatting her playfully with a wing, you dismiss a rather lewd catcall from a distance with a roll of your eyes.
"You want to come back to my quarters for a bit?"
> "I'd love that, Thunderlane."
> Side by side you walk, flanks pressed together and a wing extending over her withers.
> The days had been steadily growing warmer, but the nights still held a stark chill - Spring irregularly making itself known rather than a timely arrival following a well-planned Winter Wrap-Up.
> Your breath steams into the night air, the only accompaniment to an otherwise silent walk.
> Vapor is the first to break it:
> "So, Thunder... how is - well, everything? The camp?"
"It's... better, I think. Even with Cadance being... away. I don't think Anonymous is really going to do anything to her."
> Thank you, Bon Bon, for that idea.
> "Really? Why not?"
"They're closer than it can seem. He relies on her, and Flurry Heart too."
> "If you say so..."
"I do. And aside from that, there really isn't anything else going wrong. All that's happened, with... it's kind of woken everypony up. Like, the museum. It showed us we can have some part of our life back."
> "Without fighting."
"Without fighting. Have you seen the museum?"
> "Yes. It doesn't change we're still slaves, still their 'property'... but it's nice."
"Yeah."
> Arriving at your quarters you unlock the door and slip in, quickly shutting it against the sharpening chill.
"Well - welcome to my humble castle, Lady Trail."
> Vapor snickers softly, immediately heading to leap up onto the bed without hesitation.
> "Quit it. Keep talking like that, you're going to sound like some prissy unicorn."
> Unable to keep the grin from your own lips, you wander on over to the bed as well.
"Plus, it's not much of a palace. Actually-"
> You look around the single room, taking in the bare bulb on the ceiling, the cracked walls, the barebones unpainted furniture and creaking bed...
"-just about the farthest thing from."
> "Oh, shush."
> Leaning over, Vapor plants a soft kiss on your cheek.
> "Long as you're here to help keep me up, this could be the grandest mansion in all of Cloudsdale to me. Now get up here; it's chilly and this blanket only does so much."
> Partly to hide the deep flush showing even through your black coat and partly because - well, what kind of stallion is going to reject that offer? - you immediately do jump up.
> Carefully stepping around her, you sink down to your belly just behind Vapor and immediately curl up against her and draw up the blanket.
> Four legs and a wing work their way around her, pulling the mare in against your belly.
"There. A little warmer now?"
> Giggling softly, Vapor rolls her head back to let her nose brush your chin.
> "Just like you, Thunderlane. Always looking out for another."
"Says the pony who's kept me going when I was ready to give up and fall."
> "Yes. We all need someone there for us."
"But I think you go above and beyond any real-"
> You would say something more, but there's something pressed against your lips.
> Vapor Trail.
> Her head turned just enough to let her lips touch yours.
"Mmmm-"
> Relaxing against her, you hold the moment until your lungs burn and heart is pounding.
> Although there might be other reasons for that thunder in your chest.
> Smiling, Vapor tucks her head back in against your neck and closes her eyes.
> "There."
"What - was that for?"
> "Because you consistently undervalue yourself and the effort you put in to all of this. You weigh yourself down with everypony else's struggles, never letting anyone else show how much they care about you unless they push the issue. And because-"
> She hesitates, stirring nervously.
> Brushing a hoof down her neck, you whisper softly:
"Vapor?"
> "-because I do care. About you, I mean."
"Well-."
> Turning Vapor's head, you bring your lips so close to hers that you can feel her puffing breath and whisper:
"I'd should probably get better at showing that, shouldn't I?"
> What follows is... very nice indeed.
> How long had it been since you'd kissed a mare?
> Really had a relationship?
> After that initial hesitancy, everything begins to come so much more naturally.
> The touch of her lips to yours.
> Limbs meshed together.
> Several minutes later found you rolled on your back, Vapor clambered partially atop you and resting her head on your ribs.
"Vapor? Thank you."
> "For what? Kissing you?"
"For being blunt enough when a thickheaded stallion like me needs someone to show them just how much they're cared about."
> "Well then let me say-"
> Clambering a little further up, Vapor plants another firm and lasting kiss directly on your lips.
> "-you're welcome."
> You smile - and a moment later realize that when she had climbed up she had also thrown one hindleg over one of yours.
> Now your stifle was rubbing somewhere a little... intimate.
> Cheeks going bright red, you look away.
"Vapor?"
> "Yeeesss?"
> She knows.
> Swallowing hard, you turn back to look her straight in the eye:
"Are you sure you want this? You don't have to feel... obligated to me or anything because I'm looking after you-"
> "Thunderlane, do you really think I'd do this for a second if I didn't want to?"
> Expression turning sober, Vapor Trail shakes her head:
> "No. I know what I'm offering. And if you don't want to now.. I'll understand. But-"
> She taps your nose lightly with a sly grin returning to her face.
> "-you're going to have to choose fast, before this foal makes me all swollen up and gross."
[Choice]
"What I want, Vapor, is to see you happy."
> Another soft kiss, your hoof stroking down along her neck and coming to rest between her wings.
"And what comes along the way of finding that? Well, I'm certainly not going to object."
> "Good. Because if you kept teasing me any longer, I think I might have been the one who ended up mounting you!"
"Oh really? Isn't it the stallion who gets all pent up?"
> Vapor Trail wriggles her hips, grinding them against your barrel.
> "Mares have needs too, featherbrain. And right now this foal is doing strange, strange things to me."
> What happens next is... even more delightful than the kissing had been.
> Vapor Trail is - eager.
> Very eager.
> So are you.
> So eager, in fact, that you find yourself finishing before you even enter her - the literal feather-light teasing with her wings proving to much and a belated warning going unheard.
> Perhaps you were a bit more pent up than you'd realized; a hoof or wing only did so much to relieve that.
> For a moment you fear, cheeks turning red with utter humiliation.
> But those worries are dashed a second later.
> Vapor had never been anything but a supportive friend, and rather than be disappointed she distracts you with kisses and further teasing until you are ready to go again.
> And when you do...
> She has clearly been going through a bit of a drought as well, as she is every bit as eager as you are.
> The foal is... noticeable. a weight in her belly that cannot just be ignored.
> Hardly an impediment to your desire, though.
> That night lasts a long, long time.
> A small eternity of two bodies shared in absolute, passionate intimacy.
> This was something the slavers could never take from you:
> Not the ability to passionately rut like colt and filly in the throes of a powerful estrus - although there was plenty of that going on.
> To be together with someone you care for, to let go of all the weight of the world around you.
> That was an something untouchable.
> Later, when you lay curled together - utterly spent, softly breathing, sweaty bodies cooling as heat of lovemaking fades and reeking of both your desires - you reflect that this had absolutely been the right choice.
> Not for the sex, though that of course had been welcome.
> But for the emotion you'd been deprived of for so long.
> Leaning over, you place one last soft kiss on the ear of a thoroughly-satiated Vapor Trail.
 
> Stepping out onto the open field in before of the camp's main gate, you shrug off your coat and fold it at your side.
> Today had turned to warmer temperatures, and you'd underestimated how quickly they would rise.
> Beside you, Rumble stirs nervously - glancing up at you and dancing from hoof to hoof.
> You'd pulled him temporarily off-duty for this, but the colt was still decidedly nervous about being around you.
> That was fine.
> You were quite certain this would be worth it.
> Gates creek and groan as they are drawn back, allowing the nondescript van to pass in through it.
> Only once the first, outer gate is shut does the inner gate open.
> Just in case one of the ponies had thoughts about bolting.
> "Do I really have to be here for this?"
> Choosing to ignore his pointed lack of your title, you nod.
"Sorry to drag you out here, Rumble, but I do think you'll want to see this."
> Further up, the van pulled around in a semicircle and stopped, its rear to you.
> The driver quickly hopped out, going to open the back.
> "What is this? New ponies coming in, or-"
> "MASTER!"
> With a delighted shriek, Mocha Cream tumbles from the back of the van.
> Falling head-over-hooves to the ground, but quickly righting herself and hobbling across the open yard towards you at a shocking speed for a pony with one leg still lifted in a cast.
> When just a few steps away from you, Mocha attempts a leap up.
> Unfortunately the missing leg unbalances her and she ends in another tumble - a flying ball of coffee-and-vanilla mane.
> You'd predicted that though, and preemptively dropped to one knee to catch the filly as she leapt.
> Plowing into your chest, Mocha locks both her forelegs around you and hugs fiercely.
> With her head buried into your chest she gives a wordless and keening cry of happiness.
> Despite the fact that her horn is poking you firmly in the shoulder you're happy to simply squeeze the filly in a hug as well.
"Welcome home, Mocha Cream."
> "I-I'm glad to be b-back, Master."
> Is she crying?
> A quick check, and yes she is.
"Shhh..."
> Stroking your hands through her long mane, you lean over to rest your cheek against the top of Mocha's head.
"Hey, it's okay. You're back now, Mocha. It's going to be okay."
> "C-Can we go back i-inside now, Master? I'd like to be home."
"Of course, but you know I think there's someone else here who'd like to see you first..."
> Lifting her head from your chest, Mocha Cream looks around until she spots Rumble.
> The colt peers up with a nervous expression, but it quickly fades a Mocha frees a horehoof - the fetlock still bound up in a brace - to wave enthusiastically at him.
> "Rumble! Hey!"
> You give him an affirmative nod, which seems to be all the confirmation Rumble needs to approach.
> "Hey, Mocha. I missed you."
> "Missed you too."
> Extending her neck out, she rubs her nose to his.
> Both young ponies nuzzle briefly, Rumble's wings shifting in a small expression of happiness.
> Eventually they break, and you murmur softly:
"Can you walk on your own, Mocha? Or do you need help?"
> Flushing, she shakes her head.
> "Don't let me slow you down, Master! I can walk if I'm careful."
> Letting Mocha Cream back down with a nod, you stand again.
"Do you remember the museum, Mocha? While you were... away, it finally got built. The rec hall along with it; your help with the suggestions box really paid off. So I thought you and Rumble and I might want to go and see what your good work created, how everypony is enjoying it-"
> "NO!"
> With a shrieked cry she hurls herself back against you - forelegs wrapping around you pants.
> "No, no. Please. Don't wanna go there, not now-"
> In a tiny, almost inaudible voice Mocha Cream whimpers:
> "-not safe there, not safe in the town."
> Your heart sinks and a piercing pain fills your chest.
> The staff had warned you, but this...
"Easy, Mocha. Easy... okay. We don't have to go now. We'll just go back to the house now, is that better?"
> She lets her iron grip on you subside, though her shaking continues.
> "I'd like that, thank you Master."
"Did you still want to come with us, Rumble?"
> "I-"
> His eyes dart in the direction of your house; you doubted he had ever been that close to the manor, let alone inside of it.
"It won't be a problem, really."
> And, you think, Mocha Cream could probably use another friend around now.
> "...okay, I'll come with. For, uh, a while anyway."
> Approaching the house, you catch a glimpse of a few faces in the windows.
> But you don't realize what is about to happen until you swing the front door open to reveal the entire house staff - ponies and humans - filling the foyer.
> For a second you expect Mocha to panic, but she simply stares in awe as they begin to cheer and hoof-stomp-clap in the way ponies do.
> Again her eyes fill with tears as she hobbles through the front door and in among them, smiling wistfully at all the familiar faces.
> "Th-Thank you all, everyp-everyone. I'm so h-happy to be home again!"
> You follow in behind her - and Rumble slinks in behind you - as they crowd around the filly, nuzzling and hugging and rubbing her back.
> He barely has eyes for the reunion going on before him.
> Instead Rumble's expression is one of sheer awe at (you suspect) the relative luxury of your home.
> His eyes drift from object to object, taking in the rugs and couches and elaborate lighting.
> By the time the group breaks apart Mocha has acquired a few flowers in her mane and her cheeks are streaked with tears.
"Come on. Why don't we go upstairs, and we can talk a little bit."
> "Um, okay. Let me-"
> Facing the stairs, Mocha scrunches her muzzle up and considers how to best ascend them.
> With one bad leg, walking is no hope.
> Then she tries to sort of hop up the stairs, but collapses flat on her nose two steps up.
> "Mocha!"
> Rushing forward, Rumble slips his muzzle beneath her side and helps her up.
> "No - no, please - I can do this, I can!"
> Acceding to her demands Rumble backs off, even when Mocha falls face-first into the very next step.
> The next few she actually manages to make, but her legs are trembling and unsteady.
> Only a couple steps later she nearly falls all the way down, only halting when you dash forward to catch her.
> The impact drives breath from your chest, but you hold her steady.
"No, Mocha. Here. Let me-"
> It takes a bit of straining - Mocha Cream isn't that far less than full grown - but you manage to slip both arms around her and carry Mocha up the rest of the way.
> She flushes again, but nestles down against your chest until your arrive at the top.
> Diverting into your office and library, you select one of the seats and drop into it with a heavy sigh.
> Mocha - after a bit of shifting - manages to seat herself mostly on her haunches, while Rumble remains standing.
"...I imagine you'll want to go back to work pretty soon, Mocha."
> "Um, as s-soon as I can. But the d-doctors, um... they said my magic might be affect by, um, intrac-crani-um..."
"Intracranial injury?"
> Rumble cocks his head.
> "What's that mean?"
"It means her head was hurt, and she might have a little trouble thinking straight - or using magic - for a little while."
> Or longer than that, you think.
> You'd have to have Sunburst look in to that as well; he was most likely to know about ponies' neuro-magical disorders.
"Well, that's okay; I was going to say there's no need for you to go rushing back to work just yet. It'll be best for you to just wait a little while until you get better. In the meantime... Mocha, did you actually want to see the museum?"
> "I..."
> Her voice catches.
> "But I - I'm s-scared, Master. I know you said you sent them all away but who knows who else might be down there?"
> Dropping her gaze to the floor, Mocha hangs her head despondently and mumbles.
> "Don' wanna b-be hurt 'gain, M-Master. Wanna be here with y-you. If it's not an o-order..."
> Rumble slips his wing over Mocha's trembling withers.
> "I'm pretty sure Anonymous wouldn't force you to go down there if you don't want to."
> As if you could order that!
"No. It is not an order. But if you want, you could go down with Rumble or me, or Cadance - or all of us."
> "M-Maybe..."
"We could even have every one else leave for a little while so you feel safe. That can be decided later. In the meantime..."
> Reaching down into your pocket, you withdraw a scrap of folded paper.
"This is from Windy Winters. You remember when I asked you about him, right?"
> Mocha's gaze falls, her mouth opening but no noise coming from it.
> After a second of being unable to say anything, she just nods.
"Well, he wrote a letter before he went away with the others else. It's to you; you don't have to read it, but I think he really wanted you to. It was the only way he had to say sorry."
> Because you certainly weren't going to let him stick around to say it himself.
> Not after what he'd been part of.
> Windy Winters may have been honestly sorry for what he did, but he still crippled your Mocha.
> And as you hold the letter out, it becomes clear just how deep that damage runs:
> Her magic grabs it, but the paper only makes it about halfway to her before the field flickers and fails.
> Gasping, Mocha quickly reestablishes grip on it - but if that had been anything heavier than a sheet of paper, it would have been too late.
"While you read that - and the two of you talk - I'm going to go next door real fast, okay? I'll be right back."
> Barely do you give them time to answer before fleeing the room, its door slamming shut roughly behind you.
> A few steps carry you to your bedroom.
> There you immediately seek the bed, swinging back and driving a hard fist straight into it.
> A second time, a third, fourth, as a roar of anger grows in your throat-
> Magic stays your arm.
> "Anonymous? What's wrong?"
> Cadance.
> She still bore the shackles, collar and bridle of her punishment, but stared at you with an expression that carried nothing but worry.
> Lowering your arm, you slump in place.
"I was too easy, on them, Cadance."
> "Who?"
"Autumn. Comet. Windy. Should've gone through with everything I told them I was going to do."
> Turning, you seat yourself on the bed and drop your head to rest in your palms.
"The doctors warned me she was like this. I'd hoped it wasn't as bad as they were making it sound, but... she's terrified, Cadance. Of any pony she doesn't know. They said it took weeks before she was comfortable around the nurses there, and going outside of her room? Forget about it."
> Cadance gasps softly, and you can only imagine the alicorn's pain at knowing one of 'her ponies' had been cut off from her own kind.
"On top of that, she has some brain injury. Time will tell if it clears up in time; they sounded optimistic, but with these things it's hard to tell."
> "Where are they now?"
"Next door. I left them reading Windy Winters' letter."
> "Ah... Did you read it first?"
[Choice]
"No, I..."
> You pause, shrugging.
"...I don't know. I guess I just thought that after all he'd been through, he deserved to at least be able to send a private letter on whatever was going through his mind."
> Cadance bows her head in acknowledgement - perhaps thanks.
> "That was good of you. And right; I think Windy Winters would have appreciated it as well."
"Though now I'm starting to regret it. God damn it!"
> Again your first slams into the bed.
"How could they do that to her? Her, of all ponies?! Does nothing I do mean anything?!"
> "Sometimes, Anonymous, our anger drives us to do terrible things we regret later on."
> Looking up you're struck by the sight of the alicorn still wearing the symbols of her bondage.
> Symbols, as she could surely have torn them off in an instant with her horn freed.
> But wore them she did.
> She certainly wasn't wrong.
> If you could ever have figured out where Corona went, how would you even speak to her again?
> At least Corona had come out of her experience without any long-term mental damage.
"Maybe. But that doesn't mean I have to like him. She's... God, I don't even know what I'm going to do with her. Mocha really isn't able to serve as my maid as she is, but if I send her off to do something else I think it might crush her."
> "Was there anything else you wanted to do with her at any point?"
> A soft laugh escapes you throat, despite the pain in your heart.
"You know, the funny thing is I actually mentioned that I wanted to have her given a bit of an education in massage-work, but I never got around to that. And now..."
> The look that Cadance gives you suggests that she isn't a particularly large fan of that idea, but then her expression turns thoughtful.
> "Actually, some physical work like that might help her regain some of her control. Maybe, I'm not totally sure."
"If nothing else, it will keep her physically active and doing something. That alone will be good for her, even if she never puts it to actual use on me."
> "True, I suppose. But Anonymous?"
> You catch a warning tone in Cadance's voice, and look over with a raised eyebrow.
> "She cares for you. Deeply. Trust me on these things; I am - was - the Princess of Love; I have a sense for matters of the heart."
"I know, Cadance. Our species aren't that far apart in those respects; I can see it too."
> "It's filly-love - passionate, but not always lasting. Remember that she is your slave."
"Cadance, I know what I am to her. Keep in mind your role as well - you may be doing a solid job leading them, but in the end you all belong to me."
> "What I am saying is, don't play games with her devotion or it will destroy her."
> You rather suspect Cadance had some stronger words in mind, but she doesn't speak them.
> Feeling an awkward silence building, you decide a change of topic is in order:
"Right, well. I should probably go back in there. I just - what they did to her... I can't keep but wanting her to be safe and sound."
> "I know."
> Leaning in, Cadance rests her cheek against your arm, perhaps in apology for her earlier strong words.
> "It hurts. But you must do what is best for her now, and that's what matters."
"Hmm. When did you become my motivational speaker, huh?"
> Despite the disagreement moments earlier you lift a hand to scratch her cheeck - fingers working their way beneath the straps of the bridle and drawing a little happy sound from Cadance's throat.
"No, I'll go back in. Thank you for the thoughts, though."
> "Anonymous? May I see her?"
"Of course! Once Rumble has gone, though."
> Forcing yourself up you head back to the study.
> Both ponies there are resting on the floor, side-by-side with their flanks touching.
> Mocha Cream has buried her muzzle in her forelegs, while Rumble watches with a concerned expression.
"Mocha? Are you okay?"
> Gasping, she tries to stand but wobbles halfway up and ends up on her haunches again.
> "I-I'm sorry Master! Let me just get up-"
"No, no."
> You're at the filly's side in a moment, hand on her withers to calm her.
"Shhh... It's alright. Tell me slowly, Mocha."
> Her mouth opens once, then closes - and repeats the process, fish-like.
> Eventually Rumble steps in:
> "The letter. I think... Windy WInters must've really wanted to say sorry pretty bad."
> "I think he was."
> Mocha's voice is small, but that she is managing to talk is a good sign.
> "He really, really was sorry... he got why you had to send him away. If he'd been here... I don't know, I..."
"What about you, Rumble? What do you think?"
> It takes the colt a few moments to answer.
> "I... dunno. Doin' that wasn't right. Under any circumstances. But y'still just... sold him. Like a worn-out table or something. Or a dog."
"I did give him another chance, though. He'll be going to a place where he can be taught more skills, not to be just thrown away-"
> "He's going to be used. For some other slaver's benefit, if not yours."
> Looking up, Rumble manages a little glare.
> "Ponies shouldn't be used like that. Not even for this! In Equestria we only imprisoned anypony if they-"
> He breaks off and goes quiet as he realizes just how much his voice had been raised.
> Probably because of how stiff Mocha Cream has gone.
> "I'm sorry. I think, um -"
> Scuffing at the carped with a hoof, Rumble sighs.
> "-I think I'd better go back now."
"If you'd better, yes."
> The coldness in your voice makes him flinch.
> Rising, Rumble briefly nuzzles Mocha again and turns for the door.
> "Sorry, Mocha. Didn't mean to... make it all bad like this. I just-"
> His eyes sweep the expensively-furnished room - pausing on the collection of Equestrian artifacts you kept in the one bookshelf - and for a second you see that same anger flash in his expression.
> But he steels himself and squashes it.
> "I'll just... see you around, 'kay?
"Rumble?"
> He pauses, but still doesn't look directly at you.
> "Yes?"
"If you'd like to help Mocha from time to time, or just come up to visit... I can arrange that."
> "That... would be nice, yeah."
> Then, more softly:
> "Thanks."
> Only when you are really sure he is gone do you turn back to Mocha Cream:
"Mocha, I think there's one other pony here who'd really like to see you as well."
> "Flurry Heart, Master?"
> Her hopeful tone brings a bit of a smile to your face.
"You were close to her, weren't you? Well, actually I'd make that two then."
> "O-Oh. Who is it, then?"
"Follow me?"
> Obediently tagging at your heels, Mocha gasps when she enters your room and lays eyes on Cadance.
> "M-Miss Cadance! Why are you-"
> "Hello, Mocha Cream."
> Smiling sadly, Cadance rises to her hooves.
> "Why are you, um..."
> "I am... paying for a mistake I made, Mocha. But you don't have to worry about me; I will be fine."
> Not, you think, if she keeps hiding her struggles like that.
> Cadance shuffles forward until she can lower her head to nuzzle Mocha Cream.
> "How are you feeling now, though?"
> "B-Better. Now that I'm home with M-Master Anonymous."
> If Cadance is offput by how closely Mocha clings to you, she doesn't show it.
> Instead she smiles a wan smile and nods.
> "I'm sorry. I was-"
> Another hesitating pause.
> Was she going to blame herself for Mocha being a victim too?
> "-if there's anything I can do to help you, just please say?"
> "Yes. Um, of course. Miss Cadance."
> Carefully you reach down and, with some effort, lift Mocha Cream up to set her on your bed.
> The filly squeaks as she is lifted, remaining good legs curling in against herself.
> Once on the bed, though, she quickly - if tentatively, as if she isn't sure it would be allowed - leans in against your side again.
"Cadance and I were just discussing what you're going to be doing while you heal."
> "I c-can't be your maid again, Master?"
> Large, liquid brown eyes peer up at you full of worry.
"Not yet. You're still healing."
> "No! I can do better! I'll get up earlier, so I can be up to your room in time-"
"Mocha, do you remember what I told you I'd do if you lied to me?"
> Another startled squeak, and she buries her rapidly-reddening muzzle against your side.
> Oh, she remembers alright.
> "Y-You said you'd s-s-spank me, Master."
"So I did. Are you lying to me, Mocha?"
> "N-No, Master..."
> Unhappily Mocha sighs.
> "I'm not well yet, am I?"
"Not yet. And if you push yourself too hard you'll only make it worse."
> "But I don't want to be useless!"
> "You are not 'useless', Mocha Cream. You are healing; that is very different."
"Yes. And as you are getting better, I can start giving you some duties. Just... not yet."
> "What will I be doing, then?"
> Her plaintive tone still manages to catch your heart.
> Mocha Cream really did want nothing more than to serve you.
> Hand going to stroke through her mane, you smile reassuringly:
"For starters you'll be just resting and recovering. That's not a suggestion, that's an order. Recovering is your duty. It does not make you useless at all."
> "Yes, Master."
"Now, once that is started I'll slowly begin giving you back your duties. Once that leg comes out of its cast and you strengthen it up a bit, I'm sure you'll be right back in action."
> Smiling enthusiastically, Mocha Cream nods in a rapid motion that sends brown and white curls of her mane dancing.
> "I'll look forward to it, Master!"
"Well then. Do you want to head downstairs and finish saying hello to the rest of the other ponies?"
> "That, um. That'd be great, Master, but..."
> She shifts uncertainly, looking around.
> "...I'm actually - I'm kind of tired. If, um. If that's not and order, can I take a nap first?"
"Of course, Mocha."
> Still stroking through her mane, you slip your other arm around her and hug her tightly - producing a gentle and comforted nicker from the young mare.
> Both her forelegs come up to encircle you in return; Mocha Cream nestles her muzzle in against your chest and draws a deep, long breath.
> "T-Thank you. I'm j-just so glad to be home again..."
> Then, in quieter voice:
> "Master? Could I stay here while I sleep? With you?"
"Well, Mocha, I'm not sure-"
> The look she gives you- a pleading, needing expression...
> God damn it.
> You were mostly immune to your daughter's attempts to use it, but from Mocha after all she'd been thorugh...
"Come on over to my study. I'm going to be in and out, and Cadance and I will be talking. But if you can sleep there... come on."
>...
> "-so, if we put ponies into getting all the roads back in shape - which let me tell you, is going to be a problem after the winter - we're going to come up short on most of the work quotas. Or have to ask ponies to donate their free time, which... is not going to go over well."
"And if you don't, the roads get torn up and moving anything around by cart - let alone car - becomes a real chore too."
> Mayor Mare nods cleanly, japbbing a hoof the the map of the camp spread on her desk.
> "In the past we've patched things up bit by bit, Master. But, well - with so many ponies gone and then new ones coming in..."
"Yeah."
> Leaning back, you stretch mightily.
> The chairs in the 'town hall' - like everything else in it - were deliberately pony-sized and sitting in them without support was going to truly ruin your back sooner or later.
> But with Cadance out of action someone was going to have to pick up the slack, at least in part.
"Would it be more manageable if you didn't really have to really re-seal stuff? Just dump some asphalt and let it fill in, and skip any preemptive work to focus on just filling potholes?"
> "Definitely. but patch like that will probably last only months."
"It's fine. With the kind of construction we're going to be doing around here in the future, I'll just have the contractors repave every street with totally fresh stuff. That'll happen before fall."
> "That will work, I suppose. Though, if you're thinking of doing major work, we're going to have to figure out ways for most ponies to get around."
"It's going to be bigger than that; we're going to have to shunt some ponies around entirely.
> Mayor Mare shoots you an expression of utter horror at the scale of the task.
"No, no. You won't be doing it on your own; I'll probably have to rent some temporary housing while we do some of this work."
> "Master, if you're looking to do that I can recommend some open areas we could put tents in for a time. But there is a simpler solution."
"Hit me."
> "Cloud homes. The pegasi here are ground-bound and their things aren't enchanted to stay around in clouds, but there's no reason we couldn't home them temporarily there. We even have machinery and skilled cloudworkers for making some of your products."
> Turning to a map of the camp, Mayor Mare taps several blocks.
> "There are a few locations where we could set them up and not have to worry about what is beneath."
"So, it'd take some workers off active duty, but spare us having to take up room and set up tents. I'll keep it in mind."
> You drop your pen and slump back in the chair, rubbing your back again.
"You know, Mayor, you're really quite good with this. I can't imagine how you and Cadance manage this every day."
> "We manage... somehow."
"Still. You're doing fantastically here, especially for a pony in your position. I'm already having to consider exactly where to invest in, now that it's a possibility."
> "What ponies to buy, you mean."
> Surprised by her frank talk, you raise an eyebrow - but nod.
"Yes. I could focus on acquiring more capable ponies with highly valuable skills; they'd certainly pay off well. But there'd be fewer of them, and less flexibility outside of their skill groups. Or a broad variety of ponies, looking to repeat what I'd done before - seek out gems within them and let their own talents guide them."
> Picking up your pen again, you begin to tap it lightly against the table.
"Or even some griffons. Allegedly they've been performing very well... when they can be convinced to work. That latter part keeps the prices on most of them down. Might make some good guards as well - predator instincts and all."
> "I presume you won't be able to acquire nearly as many highly-skilled ponies."
"Accurate. Not only are the base prices higher, but they tend to at individual auction... which means they really can spiral up. But for good reason."
> "Well, whichever path you take I'll be ready to do what I can for this place."
> Pausing, you glance over to Mayor Mare with one raised eyebrow.
"You're taking this rather well, actually. Considering the topic."
> "Master, if I can speak frankly with you?"
"Of course."
> Stripping her glasses Mayor Mare lays them on the desk and rests them on the table while looking you straight in the eye.
> "I am not a young pony. I was not a young pony when this all began, and I've not gotten any more youthful. I'm no spirit full of fire and fight."
> Her head turns to a window, and you get the sense she is examining her own reflection.
> "For an old mare like me, in any of the tougher work camps the end wouldn't be long coming. I'd I'm not afraid to admit I obeyed because I was terrified of dying in a place like that."
> Suddenly you are very aware of just how tired she sounds - and looks.
> A pony might not be human, but you can't miss the wrinkles around her eyes or the fading of her coat into a grey that matches her mane.
"What happened?"
> "A manager is always useful. I made myself useful, and eventually came here."
> Turning back to face you, she shrugs.
> "I still hate being a slave. I still miss being the simple mayor of a small town, even if Ponyville might have driven me into an early grave too with all the stress it caused. But for better and for worse, this place became a home too. If you're going to be bringing more ponies, I'll be damn sure to see it not fall apart."
"Hmm."
> Privately, you'd hoped that she would be a little bit more thankful for a position so well-tailored for her old life and freedom from the looming fear of a wretched end.
> But perhaps that was her way of being thankful.
> Especially from someone who had thought her job as a free pony would drive her to an early grave too.
"Any advice, then, on how best to avoid that?"
> "I don't have the vision Cadance does, not for a grand future for this place. It's her you'll want to talk to. But if I can make one suggestion, Anonymous? Don't let this place become divided. Between skilled ponies and not, valuable and cheap, griffon and pony, new and old, guards and everyone else... whoever you bring in, don't let that happen or it will collapse."
"That, I can agree on."
> "Talk to Cadance, Master. She can tell you better than I."
> The alicorn, unfortunately, was little more help.
> When presented with your question, she instead shuffles over to a window to look out at the camp and gently rolling hills beyond.
> You take the opportunity to wander on back to your chair and settle in it.
> Mocha Cream slept soundly curled against one arm but there was still plenty of room for you.
> Idly you stroke the snoozing mare's cheek; mumbling in her sleep, she promptly slips a forehoof across your chest and buries her muzzle into your side.
"Cadance?"
> "My heart, Anonymous, says to spare as many ponies as I can - to spread whatever funds you may have as thin as possible and bring every soul I can here while improving this camp and making it a better place to live."
"But you know that is not realistic."
> Her head falls, mane sweeping around to hide the bridle.
> It does nothing to hide the rest, though.
> "It is not my money, and I am not making this choice myself. In the end, you are asking me how best to bend ponies to your benefit."
"One way to look at it, I suppose. Another is that if we succeed here, even more may come."
> "That is."
> Cadance's voice is somewhat muffled by her falling mane.
> "There's some truth in what Mayor Mare told you as well. Perhaps a blend... bring in a few ponies with the skills you can use, and have them educate and lead the rest. No preferred slaves, but teams. No luxury improvements, but something... do away with the barracks, maybe."
[Choice]
"I think I'm going to have to continue with our mixed-bag approach. Mostly whoever I can acquire, and we'll build on their skills as we can. A handful of highly-skilled ponies to form the core of teams... we'll make it clear they're leaders, not overseers."
> "That, I think, is manageable. Reward them by the total team's performance, not by the individual's."
"Yes."
> Tapping the desk with a finger, you ponder further:
"Say... say we start doing bulk purchases. Sort our arrivals, see what kind of talents we're pulling in. What we can expand to start developing to fulfill their needs. Then get some real talented ponies to form the nucleus of those teams."
> "As much as my heart wishes to just buy them all... that I think this is the safest course for the future of this place."
> Cadance can't quite keep the morose tone out of her voice, though, nor manage to lift her head when she speaks to you.
> She ought to be, but you're reasonably certain lecturing her wouldn't help at this time either.
"There's one other thing I wanted to try, and I think you'll like it."
> This catches her attention; one ear turns to focus on you, even if her head remains ducked.
"If there's one thing I've been learning recently, it's how much emotion goes into driving you ponies. Especially when it comes to family, friends, or loved ones."
> "What are you suggesting?"
"When we're looking at ponies to bring here, we look for families where possible. After that we set aside a little more money; if a pony here can find a family member on auction and are performing well enough, the money will be there to bring them back together."
> Rather than respond immediately, Cadance rises to her hooves - head coming back up - and hobbles to your side, chains clinking with each step.
> Seating herself on her haunches at the foot of your chair, she stares with wide and expressive eyes::
> "Anonymous, I... I don't... I hadn't expected-"
"Shhh."
> Reaching out to scratch her lightly about the cheek, you offer a gentle smile.
"Haven't I always said, Cadance, that I wanted this to be a place where ponies will want to work? We may have to ration the funding by lottery, and figure out what to do if it turns out that someone's family has a history of problem-behavior... but I think it will help."
> Leaning in to your hand, she turns her head and presses it wordlessly to your shoulder.
> "I never thought I'd see the day when this was how it would be..."
"We can do this, though. It's not impossible. You've shown me that you can work with me, and now I want to give you something even more to work with."
> "And I will! If we can take 'problem' ponies in, it might even spare them from being sent off to-"
> She cuts off, choking, and your hand stops to simply rest supportively beneath her chin.
"You're thinking of Autumn Frost and Comet Tail, aren't you?"
> Eyes dropping away towards the floor, Cadance nods.
> "I still can't believe I b-branded him and sent them to... to..."
> A sharp tremble, almost like a slight retch, runs through her body.
"Cadance. We can't be holding ourselves entirely responsible for them. We can encourage, and warn, and incentivize... but we cannot hold ourselves absolutely responsible for them."
> The alicorn stirs, pauses, considers, opens her mouth and re-closes it, then decides to go ahead after all:
> "...coming from you, Master?"
> Her pointed use of your title draws a grin to your lips:
"Yes, even coming from me."
> Giving her chin one last scratch, you sink back into the seat again - adjust the still-resting Mocha Cream, who kicks weakly in her sleep in protest at being moved.
"There's one other thing I wanted to ask you about: What do you think of Griffons, Cadance?"
> "Griffons?"
> Head cocked she pauses in thought:
> "Capable, but proud creatures. I only met a few; Equestria had good relations with most of their aeries in my lifetime, but we had warred in the past."
"And personally - do they tend to be reasonable?"
> "I... can't say; again, I only met a relative few."
> Her eyes close and voice slides into the practiced tone of one repeating a lesson taught by repetition.
> "Griffon social orders are complex and hierarchical, moreso than pony ones. They challenge each other to determine rank and responsibility; a newcomer to any social group will attempt challenge until they meet another they cannot overcome."
> Eyes reopen, but the voice remains the same:
> "Ponies often find them rude and aggressive; this is because they are attempting to challenge to determine social order. Clearly laying out standing initially will avoid this, after which they are most agreeable."
"You're well-read."
> "Auntie Celestia made sure of it. It wouldn't do well for a Princess to start a fight over an argument."
"So, basically what you're saying is that I beat them silly and then they won't give me any more trouble."
> "NO! I-"
> Too late Cadance spots your grin.
> "Anonymous. That is not something to joke over; I don't doubt many a griffon has suffered terribly because their captors did not understand how to respond to them."
"But I would not. Your point is taken, though - so, we might have a handful of incidents until they settle down, after which they'll be less trouble. Got it."
> Rubbing your chin, you grimace:
"I've personally heard good things about them - a lot of flexibility in roles, and dutiful - so it's clear someone's gotten through to them. Let me talk to Thunderlane, see what he thinks. Mayor Mare too."
> "Anonymous?"
"Yes, Cadance?"
> The mare raises a hoof - or attempts anyway, the chain between them quickly going taught.
> Instead she falls to her haunches and raises both hooves to her muzzle, indicating the bridle:
> "I know I'm not returning to leading things quite yet, and I'll have to come back afterwards... but there's something I have to do in the camp. If I could have these off for just a visit..."
"What are you thinking of?"
> She tells you, and your expression turns somber:
"...ah, yes. Of course I'll let you do that. In fact, take some time for that if you need to; I know you'll come back up here when it's done with."
> ...
> You are the first to arrive, and for some minutes you stand alone.
> Eventually, however, a few other ponies do slip in:
> Clinging to the walls, ears swivelling and eyes searching as if they half expected to be jumped by the guards for being here.
> Waiting calmly you allow them to form a small crowd - instinctively seeking the shelter found in a herd.
> They eye you with wonder, suspicion, and curiosity.
> The cloth-wrapped form by your side draws even more attention, as does the freshly-dug hole nearby.
> It was one of very few graves - Anonymous did not tend to buy older ponies, and if nothing else the quality of his medical care could not be questioned.
> The hooffull of plots had been granted their own space, though - a small rolling hill on the edge of the camp, near the fence and dotted by assorted young trees and bushes reaching skyward.
> Chrysocolla's place was at the edge of this, out in the open sun.
> Politely you clear your throat, and the few small whispers that had been passed around go silent.
"My little ponies... I thank you all for coming here today, though the moment we find ourselves at is not a pleasant one."
> Turning, you allow your eyes to drop to the cloth-wrapped shape lying on a stretcher at your side.
> Your eyes see it, but your mind sees the twisted, burnt, and broken body beneath.
"Chrysocolla, I admit, I did not know well. I did not speak to her, and only knew her in passing. Now, I wonder, would it have prevented this if I had?"
> Shaking your head, you push the thought out of your mind:
"This is why I am glad you've come. You who did know her, who can remember her as she was in life."
> Turning back to face them, you add:
"As we return her to the earth - earth of a foreign land, not her home but one she was brought to, I hope you can remember her as she was: Before hatred and fear caught hold of her heart and twisted her."
> One by one they speak, recalling their best memories.
> Happier times, brief moments of true exuberance amid the tedium and cruelty of slavery.
> Slowly you begin to have an image of a pony you barely knew.
> A pony fascinated by minerals and the beauty to be found them.
> A pony who could see a rock and know exactly how to break or polish it to bring out its beauty.
> A pony with loves, hopes, dreams, and fears.
> One brings forward a rolled-up section of newspaper, unfurling it to reveal a line of carefully-kept mineral specimens.
> "She always kept them on a window. 'colla would scour the camp looking for anything remotely interesting to her."
> Perhaps, you think, Chrysocolla didn't deserve to be remembered this way.
> Not after what she had done to Mocha Cream.
> But some part of you also insists that she had to be memorialized as she was.
> To not let the sickness that had crept into her heart define her.
> Eventually they finish, and you turn to the plot of freshly excavated earth.
> It was done the traditional Earth Pony way: With not a spark of magic, but with ropes and cloth to lower her down to become one with the earth again.
> Your heart lightens just a fraction when one of the other mourners offers one of the ropes to you, letting you take part.
> Teeth aching from the strain, you help guide Chrysocolla into the pit.
> Once the ropes are free, the others gather around the edge - faces stoic, but eyes misty with tears.
"...we stand here, gathered to see Chrysocolla to her final resting place amid the earth from which we are all made."
> Though not, you ponder, literally so - not even the same world.
> Sentiments would have to suffice.
"Our food from the earth, all ponykind from the food, and the earth our destination. So it must continue, our life. Though we wish she had not left us so soon, we wish even more that she find peace, safety, and comfort denied to her in life. May she-"
> Your voice cracks.
"-may she find harmony among the Great Herd, and freedom roaming on the Eternal Fields."
> "Harmony eternal, and freedom."
> 'Freedom' was not part of the older service, but it felt fitting.
> The other ponies, apparently agreeing, echo it in unison as well.
> Returning the dirt is also done the traditional way, without magic but only by hoof and shovel gripped in mouth.
> You are sweating by the time it is done, but so are all the others.
"I assume one of you brought her sprout?"
> A few look surprised that you know the traditional earth pony ritual, but Celestia had ensured you were familiar with all three tribes' funerary rites in case you were ever called to... take part.
> Discovering the Crystal ponies' had been necessary too, later on.
> One marches forward, reaching into his saddlebags to produce a small shrub.
> Carefully this is placed in the loose earth topping the grave, its roots buried in and the dirt tamped down.
> The three earth ponies in the small crowd step forward, close their eyes, and-
> There is a... feel.
> Not the sharp, controlled feel of a unicorn's spell or the rushing sense of movement that accompanies a pegasus' magic, but sort of heavy presence all about you.
> Like the weight of the land itself.
> Earth Pony magic had always been the most difficult for you, and opting not to take part seems to be the smarter choice.
> Slowly - but steadily - the bush sprouts grows, growing until it is twice as tall as it had started and surely its roots twice as deep.
> The feel fades, and the three earth ponies breath out in unison.
> In ones and twos ponies start to drift away, until you are left alone with the freshly-turned grave.
> Eventually you walk to its edge, dipping your head until your nose is almost brushing the dirt.
> It still hums every so faintly with the echoes of that power you'd felt.
"Forgive me, Chrysocolla. May you rest peacefully."
> Whispering your final words, you rise and turn to leave - your face a rigidly-controlled blank mask.
> The past could not be erased.
> Time to face the future.
> After the funeral is done, you cannot help but briefly check in at your office in the town hall.
> True, you had told Anonymous that you would not be taking up any duties again.
> But it couldn't hurt to check, could it?
> And besides, if nothing else it would be seen out and about in the camp.
> Let everypony know you were okay, and not suffering some awful agony in Anonymous' cells.
> ...despite your foalish efforts to put yourself in exactly that situation.
> Trotting through the streets, you can't help but feel this decision was the right one:
> Your appearance, un-marked by any sign of torture, prompts more than a few quiet words of relief from passing ponies.
> Each of these you meet with a quiet smile and a few soft words of your own.
> Nothing much, but enough to show your mind was just as unscarred as your body.
> Just as you turn a corner, however, a familiar voice calls out from behind you:
> "Cadance!"
> You pause, one hoof lifted.
> Thunderlane catches up to you at a quick trot, circling around to face you directly.
> Yet, once there he doesn't seem quite sure what to say - mouth opening, but nothing coming from it.
> Steeping in, you take the initiative instead:
"Thunderlane. I'm sorry you couldn't come, though I understand."
> "I don't think I could have seen her without seeing what she did again."
> Shuddering gently, the stallion shakes his head.
> "And they might've not wanted me there. Didn't want to make a scene. Was it peaceful?"
"Yes."
> "Good. That's how it should be."
"You might still want to visit her some time. It might settle your mind some."
> "Speaking from experience?"
> Now it is your turn to look aside, and Thunderlane quickly takes a step in:
> "I'm sorry, Your Highness. That wasn't right-"
"No... it's fine. And yes, I was."
> Relaxing, he backs down a touch.
> "Ah... does this mean you will be coming back now?"
"Not quite yet. I'm checking on a few other things, but then I have to go again."
> Frowning, Thunderlane just nods.
"I'm... helping Anonymous plan a few things right now. With the future of everything here, and more ponies coming..."
> "It's going to happen, then?"
> You glance about, but most ponies are giving you a respectful distance - enough to talk quietly.
"Yes. In the next few months."
> "He'll probably want us to recruit a few more guards from the ponies. For that matter, I think it would be a good idea for us to bring in a few more guards."
> You frown a touch, Anonymous' report of what Mayor Mare had said coming back to you.
> Don't divide the camp...
"If I can make a recommendation, Thunderlane?"
> "I'm always willing to listen to you, Your Highness."
"Advice, Thunderlane. Not an order: Don't only recruit guards straight out of the new arrivals. Find a few more from ponies currently on the Watch, and let new ponies join the Watch in their place as well."
> He nods in understanding.
> The Watch was little more than ponies who carried out routine tasks and light enforcement in the camp; unlike the Guards, they had no power to actually send ponies to the cells or inflict punishments.
> Hopefully that lesser position would be enough to catch any potential problem recruits before their egos could create any problems.
> "A mixed group, more new and old... yeah, I could see working with that."
"You don't sound enthusiastic."
> Snorting gently, Thunderlane sighs:
> "I never really wanted to become a - a guard for all this, you know? Nevermind an officer of guards."
"I remember."
> "But I know I have to, so... it'll be done."
"Good... I suppose this is already getting into management work, which I'm not really supposed to be doing right now."
> "Anonymous' order?"
"To keep me from tearing myself apart. I've been... standing alone for a long time."
> Thunderlane grimaces.
> "Still. I... snapped a bit, at Bon Bon. For pushing you into that-"
"I was the one being a foal, not just her."
> "Still. She shouldn't have encouraged you to throw yourself at him."
"No. Maybe it's the same absurd urge still arguing in my head, but I'm glad it happened now - rather than I pushing myself into something truly dangerous later on."
> "Then, he didn't actually punish you."
> Thunderlane sags in relief.
"A symbolic punishment, and removing me from my duties for a time. Nothing more."
> The lie is not told without a struggle.
> A catch in your voice betrays it.
> If he were paying attention, Thunderlane would surely have noticed it.
> But he is too relieved to care.
"I should go back now, though. Before he actually starts to think I'm lying to him."
> "Yeah... just, it was good to see you again."
"The same, Thunderlane. I should be back for real soon enough."
> Quickly you hurry away, hoping just as deeply he doesn't take notice of your haste - or determine its true reason.
> When had lying become so easy to you?
> Why was speaking in defense of a slaver - to conceal torture - something you could do at all, much less do so easily?
> The shudder that runs down your spine has less to do with memories of the past.
> It is much more fear of what your future holds.
> Retreating back up to the manor, you slip to Anonymous' room, barely acknowledging the other servants.
> The shackles, collar, and bridle are still there; you return them to their places binding your legs, neck, and around your head without a second thought.
> Then, you retreat to Anonymous' (currently empty) seat by the window and simply lay down beside it.
> Wondering.
> Worrying.
> The past was behind you, yes.
> But the future was not so secure either.
> Eventually you become aware of a presence at your side; turning your head you find Megan staring at you with wonder and worry in her expression.
> "Cadance?"
"Yes, little one?"
> Despite the pain in your heart, you manage a smile.
> No need to let the innocent share your worries.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
> "Were you a bad pony, Cadance? Is that why you're..."
> She gestures to the metal you wear.
> Her question - so similar to what your very own Flurry Heart had asked - shatters your mask.
> The pained expression that settles back over your face tells plenty.
> Megan leaps forward, arms wrapping your neck and head burying into your mane just above the collar.
> "It's okay, Cadance. We're all bad sometimes. And you're sorry, aren't you?"
"Of course I am, Megan."
> "It's not bad if we make mistakes sometimes."
> A thoughtful pause, and the girl whispers into your ear with a tickling breath:
> "Can I tell you a secret, Cadance? You can't tell anyone, though."
"Yes, Megan. You can tell me."
> "I was a bad girl too. I was stupid and was mean to Thunderlane and another pony; Daddy had to spank me right in front of Flurry and Thunderlane. But it's okay, 'cause we both know better now right?"
> Of course, Flurry herself had already told you this.
> But even so, Megan's simple and honest hopefulness and desire to help brings a smile to your lips.
"I do hope so, Megan. This is nothing I wish to go through again, and I know how silly I was."
> "Good. 'cause, I think you're a good pony and I don't wanna see you sad."
"Thank you, little one. I..."
> Turning your head aside, you extend a wing to wrap around Megan and return her hug.
"...I feel a lot better now, knowing I'm not alone. Thank you."
> This, at least, is not a lie.
> Megan was a constant source of relief to you - a reminder that the future was not always bleak.
> Not perfect and not without its struggles.
> Someone like her taking responsibility for the future, though...
> There was just a bit of hope there.
> Giggling softly at your feathery touch, Megan gives your neck one last squeeze before she lets go.
> "Um, Miss Cadance? Flurry Heart says you know how to brush her mane really well. Can you, um, show me? I know how to kinda do it, but you know better..."
"Of course! Now, or...?"
> "A little bit later, after dinner... if Daddy doesn't have you doing something."
"I don't think he will."
> This proves true enough; Anonymous seems merely content to talk with and ask your advice on certain matters.
> You are still free of any particular duties long after night has fallen and the hours creep on..
> When Megan - already dressed in her pajamas for the night and followed closely by your own daughter - appear at the door of Anonymous' room, you motion to the bed with one wing.
"Come. Sit down, and I'll show you how to do this."
> You leap up onto the bed with a single bound; after a moment to gather herself, Flurry follows suit while Megan scrambles up one leg over the other.
> ...asking Anonymous to begin those flying lessons with your daughter would have to come next.
"Now-"
> Rolling over to rest on your side, you tuck your legs into your belly - clearing a space free of shackle or chain for them to rest.
"-sit down here, and let me see the brush in your hand?"
> Megan does as asked, seating herself cross-legged against your belly with brush in hand.
> Gently both in a light touch of magic, you show her how to add that specific twist to your daughter's mane that would make it curl just right.
"...like this, see? Flurry's mane doesn't like to run straight, or even curl in one direction."
> "Uh-huh?"
"So, you have to do a little turn-around just like this-"
> Again, her hand is guided through the right motion.
> Flurry coos softly, eyes half-closed in contentment.
"-and it goes just right."
> "Um..."
> Face screwed up in concentration, Megan pouts as she struggles with her view.
> "...that's hard. You're cheating; you've got magic."
"Well... maybe if you took your other hand - yes, that looks like it will work better. You'll just have to do it backwards from how I do it."
> With that correction both of them rapidly improve, until both daughters' faces are lit with satisfaction at this new skill.
> Your thoughts begin to drift, magic releasing Megan's hand and instead - in lieu of a proper second brush - using it to lightly starting to stroke through her hair and wind it into loose braids.
> The fondness you felt for this girl was undeniable, despite that she owned your daughter and might very well some day own you.
> If there was any Harmony left in this world, there would be a way to preserve her hopeful, thoughtful heart.
> Apparently your thoughts had once again drifted, as you don't notice Anonymous' presence until some time after he must have arrived.
> In your defense, he had been very quiet:
> Only just leaning against the doorframe with arms folded and small smile playing around his lips.
> Seeing that you have noticed him, Anonymous pushes off from the door and pads over on quiet feet.
> "Glad to see all of you are becoming close."
"She came to see me. Offered to comfort me. She's a good girl, Anonymous."
> Your voices were lowered, but even so Flurry Heart flicks an ear at the new noise.
> Carefully drawing back from the two, you rise and lightly leap from the bed.
> Anonymous catches on and together the two of you retreat to the far side of the room - your chains clinking softly with each step.
> "I was wondering where she'd run off to. Usually if I can't find Megan she's either quietly working at her homework... or about to cause some serious trouble."
"No trouble whatsoever. She actually came looking for more help caring for Flurry Heart."
> "Hmm."
> Leaning back against the wall, Anonymous rests a hand atop your head.
> "I imagine you were glad to hear that."
"Their friendship has given me hope like nothing else here has - and made me want to keep this place safe and secure like nothing else could."
> Rolling your head a touch to lay an eye on him, you wonder if Anonymous is getting your point:
> That friendship, thoughtfulness, even love had won you over where no cruelty ever could.
> He remains watching the two with a distant expression.
> "Yes, I know. And I suppose I could say the same: I'm happy for both of them. Even with playdates to go to, Megan... could be very alone at home. So could Flurry."
> A pause, during which he starts to lightly rub at one of your ears.
> "I imagine you'll be wanting to start her flight lessons soon."
"As soon as my time in these-"
> One hoof is raised to indicate the shackle and chain leading from it.
"-I was planning to, yes."
> "If you'd like to start a few days earlier, I think I could agree to letting you have trips outside like today. Especially for that reason."
> Your ears tuck down at the memory of how you'd almost broken your promise and gone back to working with Thunderlane.
> Still - you could hardly refuse.
"I... would like that very much."
> After that the both of you go silent, watching the two sleep curled together:
> Megan had drifted off with her head resting on your daughter's flank and one foreleg clutched tightly; presumably in response Flurry had unfolded one voluminous wing to rest across the little girl's shoulders.
> "You know, there's no reason we have to kick them out. If you'd like them to stay here tonight."
> Catching your expression, Anonymous grins again.
> "The bed's plenty large enough, don't worry."
> That is a bit of an exaggeration.
> And despite recent events, you were still none too keen to be sharing a bed with Anonymous.
> Having your daughter sleeping by your side after so long, though-
> Was there ever any doubt?
"I would like that very much. Thank you, Anonymous."
> "Go get them under the covers. I'll be along shortly."
> Both Flurry Heart and Megan stir as you lift them in your magic to draw the covers back and over them.
> You quietly nicker to settle your daughter, and Megan soon joins her.
> Then you find your own spot, again settling on your side next to them and drawing the sleeping pair in against your ribs.
> Curling your head in, you nuzzle each in turn and whisper:
"Rest well, you two."
> Here was the future you could struggle for.
> Here was your reason for going on.
 
> Your trot back to your quarters is dogged by lingering thoughts of what Cadance had talked about.
> Both physically - hooves dragging with each step - and mentally, your thoughts laden with the knowledge of what she had just told you.
> Just a few months ago, your allegiance to Anonymous was purely private and personal.
> A convenient arrangement to spare Rumble the worst cruelties of life as a slave.
> Now, though?
> There wasn't any point pretending anymore.
> This is your job, and Cadance was talking about making it even larger and more important.
> New ranks of guards...
> On the one hoof, you can't help but be relieved that was an option.
> Adding more human guards would only raise the probability that someone eager to take advantage of their position would slip in again.
> But on the other hoof, getting even more ponies to police themselves...
> What you did on your own was one thing.
> You'd long since accepted that choice.
> Turning more ponies to become allies of the slavers, though...
> It was one thing to make your own decisions, and quite another to encourage others to.
> You weren't sure you were comfortable with encouraging ponies follow your own path.
> Finding your way to your quarters, you grab the key hung around your neck, stick it in the lock, turn, and-
> "Surprise!"
> You leap back with wings flared and a surprised (and very unstallionlike) squeal as five voices cry out at once.
"Vapor Trail? Rumble?! Seismic Shift? What are you all doing in my room-"
> Trotting forward, your brother lifts his head to nuzzle against your shoulder.
> "C'mon bro! Don't tell me you've forgotten!"
"I..."
> Your eyes fall on the tiny cake sitting in the middle of the room's table at the same time that Rumble replies:
> "It's your birthday, you silly featherhead!"
> Birthday.
> Yours.
> It was, wasn't it?
> And you had totally forgotten.
> But not your friends.
> They hadn't let you down.
"You guys, I..."
> Looking around, you struggle to find some way to break the awkward moment.
> Again your eyes fall on the cake, and you manage an almost choked-sounding laugh as tears well up in your eyes.
"...how did you even get a cake for me?!"
> "I work in the kitchen, remember?"
> Vapor Trail struts forward too, opting to place a soft kiss on your cheek.
> Seismic whistles softly, and you roll your eyes mightily at him - right before kissing Vapor back.
> She giggles, flushing just as deeply as you are.
> "When I told the forepony there that I just wanted to make a little cake for the birthday of somepony who'd really need it, she was happy to help."
> Releasing her, you step forward to study the cake.
> "I know it's not that big, and the frosting might be a bit hard - we didn't have a lot of butter to work with - and-"
> Turning back, you wrap a wing around her and squeeze tight.
"Don't worry. Coming from you - I'm sure it'll be sweeter than any other cake could be, no matter how huge."
> Another round of 'dawwwws' from the others reminds you that they're still present.
"And hey, all of you count too! You all showed up for me, and... I dunno. I - I really..."
> Your throat sticks, eyes beginning to dampen as Rumble comes up to flank you on the opposite side.
> "C'mon, bro - you think we don't know?"
> Grinning, Seismic nods.
> "Y'think this wasn't exactly why we did it, for that matter? C'mon in and have a taste of your cake, featherbrain."
"Only if all of you do too."
> "No way! It's tiny; there's barely enough for you - nevermind six of us."
> Rumble isn't wrong - it's more of a cupcake than a proper cake itself - but even so you shake your head.
"All of you. I can give at least that much."
> With a shake of her head Vapor Trail detaches herself from your side.
> "Alright, alright. I still have a knife here to cut it with..."
> Seated around the room in whatever spot they can find, the other ponies-
> No.
> Your friends.
> That's what they were.
> Brother, lover, co-workers or comrades depending on how you looked at it.
> But in the end, friends.
> And their presence brightens the room considerably.
> Makes it not just a place to be, but a home.
> You can feel your worries melting away like the icing in your mouth.
> With them all standing behind you, offering support, all of your earlier fears seemed to melt away.
> Slaves or not, you could do this.
> You would do this.
> Some way forward would be found - some balance achieved.
> Leaning over, you nuzzle Vapor Trail's shoulder (in turn prompting an eyeroll and excessive gagging from Rumble).
> With their support, everything would be alright.
 
> The bells over the door jingle lightly as you step in, the shop's scent - the distinctive musty scent of stale air filling your nostrils.
> You pass tread cautiously through a narrow aisle corridor, hemmed in on either side by shelves teetering with what feels like every kind of goods imaginable, from cans of food to compasses to batteries.
> Nothing seems outright suspicious, but being on the run had made you wary.
> And even if this place had come recommended from your earlier sources, what you were doing is still dangerous.
> Peeling, cracked tiles pass beneath your hooves - all in dire need of a cleaning.
> Somewhere above, an ancient air-conditioning unit groans away.
> Probably doing more to contribute to the odd smell than affecting the temperature, though at least the small freezer case stuffed against one wall seems cold enough.
> But not a sign of any other inhabitants.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
> "Yes, yes! I'll be right there! One moment!"
> The cry comes from somewhere further back, and moments later is followed by the sound of something heavy grinding across the floor.
> Following the sounds, you somehow manage to navigate the labyrinthine aisles until at last you find an elderly man attempting to shove a box swollen to near bursting back under the shelf it'd obviously come from.
"Here, let me help you with that!"
> Planting your shoulder to the box, you add your considerable bulk to the effort and soon it is back in place.
> Resting his back against the shelves and panting heavily, the man offers you a hand:
> "Gerald."
"Nice to meet you. Should you really be pushing those around all on your own?"
> "Probably not, but... oh, where is he? Scroll! Scroll Seal, get up here!"
> From somewhere down a half-blocked stairway in back comes a tumble and a yelp, then the sound of pounding hooves.
> A young unicorn wearing a collar sprints up the stairs, breathing hard and obviously still blinking the last of sleep out of his eyes.
> "What is it, Mister Gerald? I'm almost done putting those new flour sack-"
> "No, you weren't. You were sleeping. Again."
> Gerald's tone is more amused than angry, though, and you relax some - clearly these two were close and Scroll Seal hardly seems to fear his owner.
"Listen, I don't want to take too much of your time, but - I need your help, and I've heard you're willing to provide."
> Scroll finally looks at you and gasps sharply.
> "You're-"
> "Shh!"
> Gerald's hand snaps out with surprising speed, closing around the stallion's muzzle.
> "No names. Those're the rules, remember?"
> "Mmmmf!"
> A bob of his head gets the hand released from Scroll Seal's muzzle.
> "So, go lock the door and come back here. Now then, pony - you're on your own there, I'm guessing?"
"Yes, I'm running. I need some things to get the rest of the way."
> Gerald's face crinkles into a kindly smile.
> "Come to the right place. This shop is just one of two in town, so I have to stock just about everything. Gives me good cover. What do you need?"
"False ownership transfer papers for starters. They need to be for a specific person - I have the information."
> "I can do that."
"And I've heard you can do disguises. Scroll Seal recognized me, and I don't want that to happen again."
> "A disguise... yes, we can."
> "It's a variation of the same spells the Royal Guard's armor was enchanted with, to make them all look the same."
"So, once you cast it the spell won't need any recharging."
> The stallion grins with a shake of his head.
> "Not for a good long time! And if you get dosed with anti-mag drugs or a suppressor or something it won't wear off - though, another good unicorn could unravel the spell if they notice it. Watch out for that."
"Noted."
> You drive into the bags wrapped around your midsection, emerging with a series of papers carefully clasped in your teeth.
"Here. The information about the one I need to be assigned to."
> Gerald takes the papers and adjusts his thick glasses, staring at the papers intently.
> At his side, Scroll peers up - surprise growing on his face.
> "Him? Why him? I know he has that huge camp, but he's kind of well-known - people'll know you're a runaway if they see this! Take my advice: Let us build you a 'owner' in the state you're heading towards; it'll be more believable if you get stopped."
"I'm not going that way, though. I'm going into Anonymous' camp."
> Now both of them look up in surprise.
> "You're what?!"
> "Say that again?"
> Setting your fiercest determined expression, you repeat yourself:
"I'm going in. There's something there I have to do."
> "I hope you're not planning to get out again. They had a big escape a few months ago, and after that nopony's come out of there."
"I can manage."
> Alternately eyeing you and your papers, Gerald shakes his head:
> "I'm not sure I can do this. We help runaways here, but whatever you're planning to do..."
"Please."
> You drop to your haunches, swallowing pride and frustration.
"I've thought about this a lot. I have to go in there. I came to you because everyone else I spoke to said you could do this."
> "We can. But I'm not sure I want to send you marching back into slavery. We try to help ponies do the exact opposite, and-"
> He pauses, as Scroll Seal had lifted a hoof to place it on Gerald's thigh.
> "Please. If he wants to go - and I think he has to go - then are we really supposed to stop him?"
"And I know how to handle myself. If it comes to this... I can manage myself."
> Sighing, Gerald shakes his head.
> "I don't think we should, but I suppose I can't say no. Alright, give me the information. I'll make you some papers. Scroll can do the disguise. Just let me know what your new colors will be."
"Thank you. I mean it."
> "Just don't blame us - or tell us - if you get caught with this."
"I don't intend to."
> Perhaps an hour later, you step out of the store.
> Somewhere under your now-bandaged leg, a 'splint' carried the enchantment that had turned your hair, eyes, even your hooves to unfamiliar hues.
> Your coat still tingles where the new false colors were settling in, like a cold slime of mud coating your body.
> It would fade in time, you knew.
> But for now, you have to resist the urge to scratch furiously at your coat.
> There'd be plenty of time for it to settle in.
> Your saddlebags were heavy with fresh supplies, and hooves tingling with eagerness get moving.
> Orienting yourself by the setting sun, you set a fast trotting pace.
> A long way to go, but you'd make it to that camp.
> Somewhere deep in your heart, you know.

> The growing fields, you'd decided were the best place for this.
> Asking Flurry to attempt flight within the house was also asking for a glass-shattering, wall-cracking collision that the filly would struggle even further to recover from.
> The yard at the front of the house was close and open enough, but paved with gravel and asphalt.
> A crash there could be equally catastrophic:
> You were looking to encourage Flurry Heart, not maim her!
> Attempting to question Cadance had been no more reassuring:
> Her own attempts at getting the filly to glide and make short, flapping leaps inside the house had been productive enough, but clear flight still eluded Flurry Heart.
> Questioned about if she had any idea of when flight would come, she shakes her head.
> "She flew... practically from birth. All pegasus foals can kind of hover, but Flurry really flew. Never had trouble like this."
"Are her wings too weak?"
> "They're weak, but not that weak."
> Slumping despondently, Cadance shakes her head - only to perk back up when you start rubbing the muscled valley between her own wings.
> "It's in her head. She's still terrified of flight, on a very basic level. Afraid it'll ruin whatever peace and comfort she has here."
"Do you think... would it help if I were there? I mean, I've told her to go ahead with this, but - if I could be urging her on?"
> "Perhaps, but it's more than that. She's lost the sense of the /flow/ of the magic in the air and won't let herself feel it again. Without that, she won't go far."
"Ideas why?"
> "I don't know."
> Behind those three words, an ocean of pain lurks.
> The voice a mother whose daughter will not explain her own fears to her.
> "She leaps, jumps, and glides inside well enough... but sustained flight?"
> Looking up sharply, Cadance hisses through her teeth.
> "Anonymous, please tell me: When you first... found Flurry Heart, were there any signs she had been beaten? Tormented? Anything at all?"
"No. Neglect, yes - but not deliberate harm. Then again, for a filly... a loud voice and harsh words might've been enough to get into her head."
> Shuddering softly, your alicorn nods.
> "I think she's... terrified something bad will happen to one of us if she flies. Leaping doesn't take her far, but actually flying..."
"We can do this though, Cadance. Children can be hurt, but so can they heal. And I've some ideas to help her."
> It would have to be softer terrain - which the well-tilled earth you used to grow exotic plants boosted by various ponies' talents would adequately provide.
> As February turned to March and then April, the weather warmed and became perfect for an outdoors flying attempt.
> Getting Flurry Heart out there was a different story.
> Aside from brief trips with Megan just outside your house, the little filly had never gone far.
> She knew it only as a place that brought back memories of being chained to an exposed post in the cold, and where Mocha Cream had been ruthlessly attacked.
> (The little maidpony had also steadfastly rejected an offer to come, though she clearly wanted to be there for Flurry Heart.)
> So you rode all together in the little cart - yourself in the front, with Flurry Heart huddled beside you and Megan on her far side, the two clinging to each other.
> Your daughter, unlike her slave, looked about with wide and enthusiastic eyes at the ponies and buildings passed by.
> You only had eyes for the work being done.
> While true construction had not yet begun surveyors were out in full force - taking samples and readings, laying marks, and setting up fences that would define the new perimeter of your camp.
> In back rode Cadance, now devoid of bridle, chains, collar, or any other sign of her experience.
> No guards; you had full trust that your alicorn could handle that.
> Pulling up at the edge of the field, you stop the cart and climb out.
> Flurry Heart follows, putting a tentative hoof down into the soft earth - her tail swishing nervously as she studies the dirt clinging to her hoof.
> No need for a supportive touch this time:
> Megan provides that instead, kneeling down to put her arm around her pony's neck.
"Alright, Cadance. She's all yours."
> "Of course. Come here, Flurry?"
> Heaving out the two stepladders she had brought along, Cadance quickly climbs to the top of one.
> A cloud of her mother's magic lifts Flurry Heart to perch atop the other.
> "Now, do you remember what we were doing before, Flurry? I want you to leap off and glide, just like that. I'll go with you, okay?"
> "Uh-huh."
"And don't worry about us. Just focus on what your mother's asking you to do."
> Face screwed up in concentration, the little filly bunches her legs to jump and hangs her wings open.
> "Go!"
> Cadance is clear in a second, wings beating once to lift her as she cranes her neck back around - horn lit and ready in case Flurry Heart falters.
> No need, though.
> The little alicorn safely glides down to the ground...
> But never once beats her own wings, even to slow a landing that leaves her stumbling.
> The briefest of worried glances is shot in your direction before Cadance scoops the filly back up and both return to the top of the ladders.
> "Now... let's try that again, but try and angle your wings back so you glide a little bit further, okay? Just like I showed you once."
> "Yes, Momma."
> She doesn't, though.
> Or manage to steady her landing at all.
> In fact, Flurry Heart does absolutely nothing at all; once in the air, it's as though she is a frozen statuette of a pony.
> Right until her hooves touch solid earth again.
> You're no expert on pony psychology, but it's easy to see that she has no sense of how to fly.
> Cadance sees it too, and shakes her head.
> "Let's try something different. I'm going to pick you up, Little Gem, and carry you in a circle. I want you to keep your wings open and try to /feel/ the air, okay?"
> You've been told a tandem takeoff is tricky at the best of times, and with Flurry Heart hanging between her hooves Cadance needs to beat extra hard to compensate for her daughter's frozen wings.
> Eyes up to watch them circle in a slow glide, you're distracted by a sudden tug on your pants-leg.
> Megan waits until you've sat yourself down before leaning over to whisper in your ear, as if afraid that the circling ponies could hear her words:
> "Daddy, what's wrong with Flurry?"
> How do you explain this to your daughter?
> You'd told Cadance to explain her own behavior; now it seemed it was your own turn to face the probing questions of a child.
"Flurry is... hurt. Inside her head, honey."
> "Like, does she need to go to the suh... serg... to th'head doctor?"
"...noooo, not like that kind of doctor anyway. She's... afraid, because her last owner wasn't nice and didn't let her fly at all."
> "Uh huh. I know. She tells me sometimes."
> This draws a raised eyebrow; while Flurry Heart had spoken to you on occasion, she never really opened up to you in any real capacity.
"Has she said she wants to fly at all? Or why she's scared of it now?"
> "Nuh-uh. Sh'doesn't wanna talk about it."
> And, you presume, Megan had not pressed her.
> Good; there's no need for her to be making Flurry Heart uncomfortable.
> That'd only slow the healing process; time would fade the terrors that bound Flurry Heart - eventually.
> Far above Cadance dips and weaves in the sky.
> She's begun a series of mildly acrobatic maneuvers, probably in the hope that something new would reach the filly clutched between her hooves.
> Said filly seemed to stable - her own wings outstretched, if unbeating.
> Their span, even for an alicorn, is massive - approaching that of a full-grown pony rather than a young filly with many years yet.
> Yet she isn't using them; they stay locked in place and rigidly held out.
> "Daddy? Did I do something wrong? I thought she might not later, until she's bigger..."
"Well, she will fly when she's bigger - but first we have to help her not be afraid of flying anymore."
> Megan nods thoughtfully, lips pursed up in consideration of how to do this.
> Eventually, however, she asks a far different question than you'd expected:
> "Will Flurry be strong enough to carry me? Like, flying?"
> Your laugh a loud bark, enough to draw a questioning look from Cadance.
"I don't know if she'll be that strong, sweetheart. By the time she's old, you will be grown up too."
> "Awww..."
> Pouting, Megan twirls a bit of her hair between finger and thumb.
> "Then... what about Cadance? Or Thunderlane? Could they carry me?"
"Megan, honey!"
> Laughing, you pull her into a hug - producing more pouting, but with just the hint of a smile.
"They're busy ponies, and besides you'd practically have to be tied to their back in case you fall off. No, I don't think they should be carrying you."
> "But daaaddy...."
> Tapping her on the nose with a finger, you shake your head.
> She was protesting, yes, but not with vigor.
> You shake your head.
"Nope. Sorry, sweetheart - no pony rides."
> Despite her idea being shot down Megan is content to sit on your lap until Cadance comes in for a touchdown.
> A few feet from the ground she releases Flurry, but instead of a clean glide the filly sinks like a rock - falling to the ground in a head-over-hooves tumble.
> Immediately Cadance is down on the ground nuzzling her, and your daughter has leapt up from your lap to run back over as well.
> Soon enough, Flurry Heart stands back up - apparently unharmed.
> Cadance, as sure as she is certain neither of them is looking, gives a sad shake of her head in your direction.
> You make a 'come here' gesture, retreating to a safe distance and watching the two young ones huddling together.
"No luck?"
> "She locks up. She won't let herself feel the flow, so she can't fly... which only makes her believe she is doing something wrong and panic more."
> Resting a hand on Cadance's back, you offer a gentle rub.
"We'll figure it out. Give her some time; it's only just her first time together."
> To your surprise she smiles back.
> "I know. And I think this getting out will be good for her. perhaps meet a few other colts and fillies in the camp-"
> Noting your expression quickly sliding towards 'alarmed', she hastily adds:
> "-with somepony watching over her."
"That's fine. If you want to be that someone, you're welcome to. The time when I had to hold the two of you apart from each other is long over, and I trust you."
> "I know."
> Turning her head, Cadance looks back towards the two daughters.
> Flurry Heart had one wing extended allowing Megan to carefully look it over.
> "...perhaps your daughter would like to come? Meet some of the ponies? I swear I will not let her be hurt."
> You shoot a questioning look in Cadance's direction.
> Where had that come from, and why was she suddenly so insistent?
> There was another purpose there you're certain, but at the same time you can see the advantages too.
"I'll think about it."
> "Maybe you would want to come yourself?"
"I think I might put a damper on any playing they do. I'm a bit intimidating for the young ones, you know?"
> Despite the easy smile you wore, Cadance could easily see through to your true emotions.
> "Then change that."
"I..."
[Choice]
"Alright, Cadance. I'll come along. Maybe not for their general off-time together - at least not at the beginning - but at the very least I can accompany her around a bit."
> "I know you're busy, but I really think this will help."
"You're probably right."
> Standing again, you look back at the two daughters - human and pony - seated together in the field.
> Now convinced Flurry was unharmed, Megan had sat down cross legged and spread one of the filly's enormous wings across her lap to carefully put her feathers back in place.
> That particular task had been carefully taught by Cadance, now that she was around with her daughter more often, and Megan had taken to it enthusiastically.
"...and actually, there was one thing to do that I was thinking about."
> "Oh?"
"I've yet to actually see what you did with that 'museum'. Now that the initial rush has died down, I would like to. Maybe come with both of them?"
> In contrast to her earlier morose appearance, Cadance breaks into an open and wide smile.
> "I actually think that would be lovely, Anonymous."
"Good. Maybe later today, once the work shift ends and there are a few ponies around to see her."
> ...
> You'll say this for the ponies:
> When they're really motivated to do something, the miracles they work continue to shock you.
> This place isn't just a building to hold the mismatched pictures, trinkets, and tributes to their broken land they've collected.
> The architecture itself is distinctly inhuman:
> Some touches are subtle and almost whimsical considering the nature of the camp.
> Beautifully hoof-carved decorations had been set into the wall, and the wooden floor had been burnished and darkened with some sort of polish after construction was complete.
> Windows had been tinted - sometimes with simple colored paper, and sometimes apparently the glass itself.
> In many places lighting was simple bare bulbs, but in a few old-style lanterns had been cleverly fitted with electric bulbs.
 
> One room is even illuminated by gently-glowing solid crystals.
> Other touches are far more obvious and pointed - stairs cut short and shallow for creatures of hoof and not food, windows starting at barely knee-height for you, every door having large handles easy to hook a hoof or muzzle around.
> All of those seem to send a simple, clear message:
> This place was not meant for you.
> You were not supposed to be here.
> This was where they pretended they did not belong to you.
> And if the building did not get the message across, the looks from the few other ponies there did.
> Cadance gets a few deferential nods - they knew better than to bow where you could see it, even if you knew it happened out of sight.
> But you get sharp, questioning glances.
> They had never expected to see you in this place, even with their former princess at your side.
> Now they feared - feared you had come to take away what you had given.
> In truth, you can't blame them.
> Looking at the items they have on display - totems to a dead nation - you find yourself again questioning just how Cadance had talked you into this.
> Could any good really come of it?
> All it was doing was extending the grip that fruitless dream had on them.
> Making it ever-more-likely they would act on that attachment.
> Even Cadance, you're certain, had her own ulterior motives for being so enthusiastic about bringing Flurry Heart here.
> Had to make sure her own daughter was 'properly educated' in her own history, after all, and your coming along was tacit if not explicit approval.
> But at the same time...
> You glance back to where Flurry Heart is staring up in open-mouthed admiration a broad, wide painting of several pegasi in bright-blue uniforms.
> So there was some appeal of flight there still.
> Maybe you could make use of that somehow.
> Another thing giving you pause was the ponies' reactions to Flurry Heart
> Or rather, that they didn't seem to know how to react to her.
> The alicorn filly's existence was a known thing, of course, but seeing her directly was far different.
> Anger competes with pity and confusion, the last emotion you suspect being provoked by the way Flurry Heart is all but glued to your daughter's side.
> Megan held no leash and gave no orders.
> Yet Flurry Heart rarely ventured far from her Mistress, and was obviously much more at ease at your daughter's side.
> You could all but see the thoughts whirling in their heads:
> Wondering what she feared, if not her owners.
> Maybe some of them making the connection, realizing she had to have known Mocha Cream.
> Seeing the way your daughter sometimes reached out to give a reassuring touch to let Flurry know she was there.
> Cadance could read the ponies far better than you, and she had insisted this 'museum' would be for the better.
> All your fears aside, you had to trust her.
> Otherwise your entire purpose of putting her in command was a sham.
> As you wander through the museum, from room to room, Megan slowly begins to relax.
> She becomes increasingly willing to wander further from yourself so does Flurry as well - a reflection of her Mistress' emotions, even offering a shy wave to the occasional pony.
> Still at your side, Cadance sighs softly.
> "I wish Mocha Cream had been willing to come. She would have loved to see this too."
"I know. In time, Cadance."
> "What about you? What do you think of it?"
"I..."
> You look away, distracting yourself with a model of one of their cloud-cities.
> On closer inspection the model itself was not formed of ethereal vapor, but cleverly-worked cotton.
> "Master?"
> A low smile comes to your lips.
> Good - Cadance still knew her place in public.
"I think that if this is what you expected this project to bring, you've done admirably."
> It's a non-answer and she knows it.
> Rather than push the issue Cadance simply nods and turns to approach Flurry Heart.
> It's Megan, though, who looks up as she approaches:
> "Was your world really like all this? With th'city up in the clouds and dragons and monsters and-"
> Pulling her practiced smile, Cadance nods.
> "It was, yes. Though-"
> She looks up at the drawing they'd been looking at.
> A group of ponies watching tremendous numbers of dragons passing overhead.
> "-though we had a lot of brave ponies helping keep us safe too."
> Cadance's attempt to talk-down the depicted danger goes completely over her head.
> Instead, Megan giggles softly.
> "But that's okay. You don't have to worry about monsters now, 'cause we make sure you're safe."
> The alicorn barely manages to hide her flinch.
> Barely.
> Heading off the situation before it can get worse, you quickly step in:
"Megan, honey? If you're done up here, do you want to go back downstairs and let Flurry Heart play with some of the other ponies for a while?"
> " 'kay, Daddy. C'mon, Flurry!"
> As she skips off with the filly at her heels, you call after:
"And watch out going down those stairs! Take them slowly!"
> Despite the warning, your ears are quickly assaulted by the sound of little shoes and little hooves hammering down the stairs at a breakneck pace.
> You follow at a far more sedate pace, with Cadance following silently behind.
> The recreation hall, too, was a small miracle of pony ingenuity.
> Not just the building itself, but that it had been constructed to have a distinctly homey feel despite the limited materials they had to work with.
> Heavy, thick wooden beams spanned the ceiling and gave the impression of a far older building, while the lighting fixtures here had been covered in paper to give the appearance of lantern-lights rather than electric bulbs.
> A mud-brick fireplace sat in the corner, its blackened interior testifying to at least one fire having been lit (though you wondered exactly what they had fired it with).
> After your expansion got up and running, perhaps you should consider offering a service of pony architects.
> Despite dinner hour being over, the smell of something sweet and heavy wafted through the room.
> Scattered groups of ponies sat around - some clustered around tables of various games, others simply talking.
> You had a suspicion that if you checked more closely, those game boards and pieces would prove to be equally unique hoof-crafted items.
> One pony painted in the corner, on what looked like an old section of used wrapping paper.
> Here and there stuffed pillows or even just piles of hay served as more comfortable seats than wooden benches or canvas straps.
> For Megan and Flurry, the space is as fascinating as the museum itself.
> Soon they spot a small cluster of a handful of other colts and fillies hanging on the edge of the room away from most of the adults.
> There were relatively few in the camp, so the age range varied.
> In the end they were all still children, though.
> While they make a beeline for the gathering, you on the other hand remain paused by the doorway.
> For now, this was your limit.
> Cadance pauses by your side at first, watching the two of them run off.
> Slowly her ears begin to fall, wings also seeming to droop a bit.
> Squatting down, you offer her what you hope is a reassuring look.
"It'll be okay, Cadance. She'll make inroads eventually, and there'll be other chances to get her to fly too."
> "I know. I'm just... afraid."
"Give it time. Megan told me something that made me think. Flurry's afraid something will go wrong if she flies, so if we keep showing her that it's safe eventually it will get through."
> Maybe it's that you are offering new thoughts, or maybe just that you are trying to reassure her at all.
> Either way, she perks back up a bit.
> "I do hope so."
> In the distance, the two have tired to join the other pony children in play.
> From appearances, it's only a moderate success - nervous questioning glances are being shot at Megan and occasionally yourself.
> Flurry Heart has resume clinging to her Mistress' side.
> Motioning towards them with a wing, Cadance cocks her head:
> "May I go...?"
"Of course. I'll be around if you need me."
> Wandering off tail swishing, Cadance heads into the crowd - dodging a few greetings and one bow from a pony who hadn't spotted you yet.
> You cock an eyebrow when they do realize you are watching and their pupils shrink.
> This time you could let it pass; a quick shake of your head and dismissive wave sends them on their way.
> "Feeling generous on your visit?"
> You glance aside to find Cheerilee watching you with a wary gaze.
"That, and I think my point was made. No need to be excessive."
> She grunts softly in response, and you aren't sure quite what it means.
> "...I'm surprised to see you in here."
"I thought I should come down and have a look at some point, though honestly it's really for them."
> You motion towards the two - girl and filly - who were now watching with the rest as Cadance spoke.
"My daughter has been too isolated, to say nothing of Flurry Heart. Now that I'm trying to be more directly involved... well, it wouldn't be good to keep them separated."
> "Hmm."
> That noncommittal noise leaves you uncertain as to what Cheerilee really felt.
> Probably her point; as far as you knew the one-time schoolteacher had never been particularly fond of you.
"I've heard you had a large part in getting this place up and running, though."
> "After you took away my job teaching, I had to do... something for them. Something to keep all this from dying off."
> There seems to be a shrouded accusation there.
> Almost as if she is saying that you would have killed something if she had not.
> For a second you consider giving her a bit of a lecture.
> But no, not tonight.
> Not with your daughter around.
"Well, for what it's worth... I wasn't entirely sure on the idea of a 'museum'. I still am not sure I am. But purely from an objective standpoint... you've really, actually, done well with it. I was impressed."
> Just as expected, that catches Cheerilee off guard.
> A compliment had hardly been what she'd expected and her gaze returns with an even more skeptical look, searching for some sign of any trap.
> "...thank you."
"You're welcome. You earned it."
> You motion toward the side of the room, where a large map of old Equestria has been pinned to the wall.
> At a glance, you don't think it's entirely accurate.
> Probably hoof-painted by various amateur artists rather than printed out.
> Little pins are stuck into it at various locations, paper tags hung from them.
"What's that about?"
> "Oh, that?"
> For once, a little smile comes to Cheerilee's face.
> "We're trying to figure out where everypony came from. Where home is."
> Is.
> Not was.
> A good thing she is looking away, so she does not see the frown that passes over your lips.
> At the same time...
> You had brought up the point of trying to keep families together when the new slaves started coming in.
> If Cheerilee was already working on this, maybe she could be more helpful when the time comes?
> Then again, you aren't sure if you can trust a mare who aided in one escape and clearly has less-than-friendly feelings towards you still.
> It would be quite the coup if you could recruit a former rebel to help you.
> But a disaster if she turned again.
[Choice]
> No.
> You couldn't give her that great a responsibility just yet.
> Cheerilee was still an unknown quantity.
> For now she worked in your favor, but seemed ready to turn on you again at any moment.
> Like, for example...
"I'd remind you, Cheerilee, that I had nothing to do with your school being taken away from you. That was Cadance's doing. Not mine."
> "Anonymous-"
> You shoot her a sharp glare, and finally it seems to get through to the mare that she is treading on thin ice with you.
> "Master. Look. You can pretend that it was Cadance who went up there and made that decision, but if you think there's any one of us who didn't understand where those orders came from after you threw her in a cell and-"
"Actually, no."
> You put a firm tone on, raising a finger to stop her.
"Remember, Cheerilee - I do not lie to you. I've always been straight about my intentions. So believe me when I say that I gave her no orders but that she had to choose what would happen to you. That choice was hers."
> That seems to give her actual pause, and you once again are thankful the ponies remain unaware of the lies you had told.
> Mistakes that - though long since passed and regretted - could still have ruined you.
"Besides, you went up on that stage and pretty much publicly threw away any connection to the schooling anyhow. I couldn't have just sent you back after that anyhow."
> "You always could have stopped feeding them that drek in the first place. Can still."
"After the choice you made that still wouldn't have brought you back."
> Perhaps understanding she is going to get nowhere, Cheerilee just looks away.
"I'll freely admit I was not doing my best at that point. Being too standoffish, expecting Cadance to be able to manage everything. Maybe if I hadn't been, things wouldn't have reached that point. But by the same measure, if you try and blame me for things that never happened that will not make anything better now."
> Nostrils flaring as she blows out an angry breath, she nods.
> "I know. But that doesn't mean I like it. I didn't have foals of my own, but they are my colts and fillies."
"At the same time, what you're doing here now... I'm not going to take this away so long as nothing worse comes of it. And you know, there are going to be a lot more ponies coming soon enough. They might need help settling in, and if you can use this-"
> You wave an arm about, indicating the room.
"-to help them come feel more welcome? To lighten the weight on their minds, make their lives better - isn't that worth it?"
> Cheerilee hesitates to answer.
> It seems as though she hates to concede anything to you.
> But in the end she does, hissing softly.
> "Yes. I guess it is."
"Good. And if I see good things happening, then we can maybe think about changing things a bit more."
> Finally untensing, she sighs.
> "That would be... good."
> And a way to keep the family-finding focused on individual ponies.
> You wanted them seeking your favor and - if it worked - being indebted to you, not to another pony
> "But... we don't have much time before lights-out, and I have things to do. If I can go...?"
"Just one more thing before you do. Have you had any experience with griffons?"
> "Griffons?"
> Cocking her head, Cheerilee almost seems to forget her anger for a moment.
> "I think one or two visited Ponyville back before. One of them was a sweet thing - young, but tried teaching a lesson in my classroom. Why, are some being brought here?"
"Maybe. I'm trying to figure out how they might fit in. Well, I won't keep you any longer. Good evening, Cheerilee."
> "...good evening."
> She struts off as well, and you return your attention to the various young ones in the distance.
> They were playing now, even letting Megan join in.
> That brings a small touch of a smile to your lips.
> Your daughter was something else, that's for sure.
> At least she seemed to have learned her lesson about trying to needlessly order them around.
> Or maybe it was the singular delight of play all young creatures seemed to share.
> Either way she seemed to have integrated herself well, albeit with Cadance passively watching from a short distance.
> The alicorn was studying them with a small, fond expression.
> It's almost enough to make you think she'd forgotten her earlier worries regarding her daughter.
 
> As you circle on your patrol, you're once again thankful that Anonymous had given you permission to patrol outside of the camp's actual fences.
> The construction going on there was one of the first big changes to happen in a while, and a welcome relief from the day-to-day, week-to-week routine of the camp.
> All the equipment, watching the new buildings rise up...
> It was strange, in a way - seeing new blocks being laid out, roads paved, foundations poured... yet outside the existing fence and so entirely unpopulated aside from the workers.
> As the frames of buildings had begun to rise, skeletal and open, it sometimes almost looks like a slice out of a ghost town.
> During the day, though, there was plenty of action to watch over.
> Plus, some of their workers were ponies.
> So far you had kept a polite distance.
> It felt strange, to suddenly realize that you were not just keeping a lookout for trouble inside the camp but keeping a fair eye on those outside of it as well.
> Today, you were circling just outside the camp's current fence - the heavy radio tag that kept the Pegasus Detectors from hitting you weighing on your neck where it hung.
> A welcome weight, though; without it they would have long since sent you into a nauseated huddle against the ground.
> Seismic Shift had joined you, the enormous earth pony plodding along with his own tag bumping against his chest.
> His eyes, too, are on the rising buildings.
> "Wonder if we'll get new rooms."
"You looking forward to it?"
> "Well, those old places are kind of... rough."
"I'm hearing a 'but' there."
> Seismic laughs, then glances about before answering in a lowered voice:
> "...but, I'll miss being further away from Lana."
"You're still seeing her?"
> "Yeah."
> A small, fond little smile forms on Seismic Shift's muzzle - along with a little flush.
> "We're still... doing a thing. It's good, and not just... being with her. We listen to each other."
"Yeah. I guess I'm lucky I don't have to hide being with Vapor Trail."
> "No, you're just lucky period. She's a good mare."
"Hey, I'm not the only-"
> Your ear turns, something having caught it's attention in the distance.
> "Voices?"
"I think so. Angry. Let's go."
> Galloping close, your heart sinks as you spot the offenders:
> Two groups of ponies, on either side of the fence.
> One is a pair of workers outside the current camp - a unicorn and earth pony, presumably on break from their duties.
> The former hangs back, nervous and seeming ready to bolt while the latter is practically nose-to-nose with the fence.
> Opposing them, a trio of young-looking ponies just inside the fence.
> That sinking turns into full-fledged horror as you spot a familiar grey coat and dark-blue mane among the camp's ponies.
"Shit, it's Rumble."
> By now you were also plenty close enough for the voices to have resolved into words - and the angry retorts being traded back and forth leave you none too
> "You gonna be oka-"
> Cutting Seismic off, you beat your wings twice to lift off and carry you just high enough to come down in a hard, interruptive landing.
"That's enough! What's going on here?"
> One of the other ponies with Rumble - another colt - is first to respond.
> "We were just watching, and he came over here and started taunting us-"
> "Hey, I wanted to talk! I'm not the one who came over and decided to start barking at us-"
> " 'Barking'?"
> You can practically hear the fury ready to boil over in Rumble's voice.
> "We're not dogs!"
> "Coulda fooled me, the way you were acti-"
"I said that is enough!"
> "Oh, and what're you-"
> "Thunderlane said that's enough."
> For his size, Seismic Shift could move rather quietly.
> His sudden appearance and the growled reminder that comes with it puts a damper on the earth pony's aggression, ears laying flat and backing up a step.
"Now. Somepony. Explain to me. What in all hell is going on here?"
> At last the unicorn speaks up, though his voice suggests a degree of timidity still:
> "We, uh... we were just looking in, actually. And then they came by. And, we started to talk at first, but then things... uh... things kinda went bad."
> "Go rot in Tartarus, he called us-"
> A fierce, narrow glare shot at Rumble quiets him.
> You weren't taking any of this right now.
"Did he actually start it?"
> The unicorn paws at the ground nervously.
> "...Transom didn't mean to. He just said that it's a nice place they're building here; it's a pity anypony moving in to it is still going to be a slave."
> Nodding, the earth pony - Transom, you presume - adds:
> "Yeah! I didn't mean anything by it, and this runt just goes off on me like a firework on Summer Sun-"
> This time you preemptively shoot Rumble a glare before his retort can even begin.
> Then, turning back to Transom, you try and put on your most understanding tone.
"Do you not get how insulting that sounds? 'Great place you're going to have here, too bad you're still going to be slaves'?"
> "That's not what I meant at all!"
"It certainly sounded like it. I shouldn't have to remind you that you're in the same situation we are, you know!"
> "Oh, well actually!"
> A grin grows on his face.
> "What I was trying to tell them is that I, in fact, am not!"
> Puffing out his chest, he adds on:
> "You're looking at a free-and-clear special dispensation pony."
"What?"
> The unicorn sighs softly, taking a turn to speak up.
> "Transom dug some people out of a building after an earthquake. They gave him freedom for it."
> "Oh, so you got free and decided to turn right back around and go back to working for the slavers? That's even worse!"
> That hadn't come from Rumble, and neither do you have to shoot him down:
> Seismic Shift goes nose-to-nose with the filly responsible, lowering his head close enough to touch muzzles if there weren't a fence in the way.
> "I think Thunderlane told you to stop."
> She squeaks quietly, but Transom only shrugs.
> "You think that's what it's like out here? I don't get to pick and choose. The company bids the job, we work on it. I quit, I don't get paid... and if don't get that, sooner or later someone would just try and stick something on me to drag me back in. It's work on your own, or work with a collar on your neck."
> Jabbing a hoof in the direction of the three camp ponies, he adds:
> "Hell, I come over and still try and show a little sympathy for you all still stuck in here, and I just get snapped at! Next time I'll just keep my words to myself."
> With that he spins in place and stalks off, tail lashing.
> His unicorn friend watches him go with a sigh.
> "Sorry about that. Transom's... a touch bitter. Because things haven't gotten any easier since he was freed."
"That rough?"
> "Doesn't have to worry about being beaten or anything, and it's got to be nice for him to make his own little choices."
> Finally it occurs to you that he'd always been speaking in the singular, the separate, from Transom.
"Wait, are you not-"
> "Nope. Property of Alcom and Sons Construction Contractors. I'm Current Tap, by the way."
"Thunderlane."
> He taps hooves with you in greeting.
> "But... yeah. It's rough out there for him. He's a good pony - looks after us who are still owned by the company, makes sure they aren't too rough on us - but barely anyone gives Transom a fair shake and it gets to him."
> At this Rumble - and both his compatriots - wince slightly.
"So, you think he was trying to be sympathetic there?"
> "Trying? Yeah, he was trying. But he kind of... snapped back too. Is there going to be an issue as a result of this?"
> He motions towards your uniform.
> "I kind of figured you must be working as a guard out here..."
> On the other side of the fence, Rumble winces as well.
> Even if he wasn't technically breaking the rules being out here, it didn't look very good for him either.
[Choice]
"Well-"
> Your gaze sweeps across the three ponies inside the fence.
> Two of them - including your little brother - manage to look suitably embarrassed by their actions.
> The last...
"All of you, go back home."
> "But Thunder-"
"Go back! I'll talk to you later, Rumble, but not right now."
> Rumble grumbles, then sighs.
> "C'mon, everypony. Let's go back."
> Just in case, you wait until they're nearly out of sight before turning back to Current Tap.
"Sorry about that... I don't know what set them off so badly."
> "It's okay."
> The unicorn shakes his head, rough-cut mane swaying gently.
> "I understand. The little things..."
"Hey - do you know if Transom will come back for you soon? I'd like to talk with him, if there's a chance."
> "No, but I bet I know where he went."
"I..."
> You glance to the fence.
> Technically, you were only supposed to be walking around its outer perimeter...
> Seeing your hesitation, Seismic Shift smiles and shakes his head.
> "Don't worry, Thunderlane. I'll take the rest of the walk around. See you back at the post later."
"Thanks, Seismic."
> Patting him lightly on the side with a hoof, you then step to Current Tap.
"Okay. Show me?"
> Following him is a strange feeling.
> This wasn't the first time you'd been outside the fence, not at all.
> But just... walking away from it never ceased to feel odd.
> Just keep walking, and you could walk out of sight and over the horizon.
> Fly, even.
> The radio tag hanging around your neck would keep the Detectors from bringing you down.
> Freedom calls, a siren song, but you shut your ears to it.
> The good you could do in the camp is an even louder call.
"So... is it really as bad as you were saying? Nobody respecting him, even though he's free?"
> "Sometimes. He's not starving, but he's not got a lot of money - and he puts a lot of it aside to pay for a lawyer if they try to pin something on him."
> Current Tap sighs.
> "And yeah, people don't always respect him. Especially around here - I've heard it's better in other states; safer, friendlier. Here? He gets ignored, walked over... I've seen people stop him and insist to see his ID card a whole lot, keep him standing around while they make sure he's not on the runaway lists. Tartarus' teats, some of the other ponies here gave him guff for being free at first. How dare he "
"Not anymore, though."
> "None of them would. Showed he's still a pony through and through. The other employees here, they mostly respect him too. Works as hard as any of them. And-"
> A kind of longing, wistful expression comes over Current Tap's face.
> "-seeing him be able to just... choose. To knock off at the end of the day, to decide he's going to go out to a bar and buy his own drinks... to do that... he has his own apartment, you know? He owns it. His own home. No one else's."
"...I can see that, yeah."
> Circling around the side of a future-building's foundation - now little more than an open pit in the ground - you find Transom resting against an earthen berm.
> He looks up as you approach, eyes cool but expression neutral.
> Stopping a short distance away, you force yourself to relax:
> Wings dropping out a bit, and ears perked up - a nonthreatening appearance.
"Hey. I, uh... I just wanted talk."
> After a moment of eyeing you with a judging look, Transom nods.
> Settling on your haunches facing him, you pause - realizing you're not quite sure how to start this.
> Fortunately, he does for you:
> "I... didn't mean it as an insult. Just... this is a whole town going up, practically. Lot of ponies are going to live here. I wish it were for free ponies instead of slaves."
"Ah."
> Pausing, you glance back towards the fence.
"And... I'm sorry about that. Some of the young ones here - can sometimes get a little jumpy. Colts and fillies their age, being a slave... sometimes he can get a bit snappy..."
> "To say the least!"
"But, also... do you get why it might've sounded... bad to them? I mean... I think you're the first free pony they've seen in... years."
> "I am?"
> Transom blinks, considering this, then sighs.
> "I... I guess, yeah. I know it's something I'm... proud of, sometimes."
"Not wrongly. But with them... well, they're seeing things from the view of somepony who's been behind that fence for too long."
> "Y'seem to know them pretty well."
"Not all of them, but - the grey colt? That's my little brother. A pain and love all at the same time."
> To your surprise, Transom barks out a laugh and nods.
> "Yeah, I get that!"
"You have one?"
> "I am one. Big sister - Celestia knows what happened to her..."
> Just as abruptly as it had come the lightened mood fades, but still Transom goes on.
> "...but yeah, if you were willing to go knock him down like that back there, I know you're not just ragging on me alone. And, I guess saying sorry's in order too. For going off on him."
"He'll appreciate it, I think. And I'll make sure he understands you had a decent reason for snapping. Current Tap was telling me how rough you have it sometimes."
> Transom shoots the other stallion a look - but not an angry one.
> More like friendly exasperation.
> "Yeah. Some days are better than others."
"How is it out there? Like I said, you're the first real voice from outside the camp we've had - that wasn't filtered through Anonymous, anyway."
> Or the rebels' contacts.
> But you decide not to add that bit.
> Transom adopts a far-off expression, half longing and half frustrated.
> "It's about as patchwork as you can get out there. There's some places where we're just not welcome. Some stores I walk in to, they look right through me."
> Bitterness again fills his voice as he speaks.
> "There are some whole cities like that. Laws aren't getting much better in most places; the big fat slobs who own a lot of ponies are seeing to that. And... we're leaderless. The Princesses are still nothing but rumors and hope, none of the nobles are able to help us, and-"
> He turns to the side, spitting.
> "-some of them are even working for them. Willingly. To keep us in chains."
> Your thoughts flick back to Haute Glamour, but it's only a detour from the main revelation running through your mind now.
> Did he not know Cadance was here?
> Was it that much of a mystery to everypony outside?
> She hadn't been flying close to this edge of the camp, and wasn't nearly as large as Celestia or Luna were.
> Are.
> So maybe he hadn't realized...
"Nopony else is standing up?"
> "A few, yeah. Ponies living in the better areas. Coming out here is risky, but they send money. Send supplies. Try to raise money to buy abused ponies out. And that's just the ones who care about their laws."
> So, the contacts Sunburst had found might not be so unreliable after all.
> "There's even some human groups who are taking our sides."
> Here Current Tap, butts in, adding:
> "They go around in these big buses, finding places where things are getting worse - or could get better. All show up, try and push for things to help us..."
"So, some of them are helping."
> "Oh yeah."
> Transom sighs.
> "Yeah, they try. Tartarus, there are some places where we're damn close to equal - some places they'll even let Pegasi keep cloud homes over some places. But it's not growing. Not fast enough, anyway. Not in my mind."
"Can they really try and pull you back into slavery?"
> "They can try. Some places, they have to convict you of a pretty hard crime. Hard to do. Others, all they have to do is get far enough in debt and they can seize you. Why do you think I need to keep some money set aside?"
> You wince softly.
> "That's what I'm really proud of, y'know? Not being set free. All they did then is give me back something they stole. But staying free? Damn right I'm proud of that. Hard, yeah - but I'm no one's slave now. Won't be ever again."
> That confidence makes you wonder, but then again Transom seemed to have a plan and the drive to carry it through.
"Is it worth it?"
> "No doubt."
> Grinning, he laughs.
> "No whips. No collars. No working into the dead of night, unless they want to pay. On weekends I can kick back. Go down to the park. I'm thinking about trying to make a little canoe, just because I can. And every time one of them looks down at me, I can look down at them right back. Because I've beaten them."
"...yeah. That does sound good. Even if I'm - well, I'm allowed certain privileges, it's not the same as being really free. Not at all. I can barely remember what a proper cloud home really felt like."
> Transom stands with a grunt.
> "Well, we're back to work. Harmony watch over you, Thunderlane. You're a good pony, even if you are wearing that uniform."
> As he turns to go, you call out:
"Can I ask you one thing?"
> "Sure."
"If there are some places that're so much better, why not go there?"
> "Well-"
> He looks back towards Current Tap.
> "-somepony's still gotta be looking out for everypony else here."
> ...
> Rumble had gone back to his quarters, just as you'd sent him.
> He barely looks up as you enter, and even as you shut the door and trot to his side, you're realizing this will be less of a lecture and more of an even talk.
> As you start to shed your uniform - and all the plasticized protective plates and bags it carried - he finally speaks up:
> "I kinda screwed up out there, didn't I?"
"Yes, a bit."
> Climbing up on the bed, you settle down beside him and extend a wing out over him.
> Warm the days might have been, but nights were still cool enough for the touch to not be unwelcome.
"Look, Rumble... I know he came off as kind of uncaring and-"
> "He was a dick."
"No."
> Your wing lightly smacks Rumble over the back of his head - not enough to be a real blow, but certainly making your point.
"He was proud, Rumble. Proud because he'd stuck it to the slavers. I thought you would understand that."
> "I..."
"And he apologized, too."
> "He did?"
"Uh-huh. I went and talked to him. About what it's like out there. And he knew he'd been pretty rude to you.
> Looking down, Rumble traces meaningless designs in the sheets with his hoof.
> He knows what you're looking for, and he knows that he should give it.
> But pride - young, coltish pride that refused to let him be wrong - prevented it.
"Bro?"
> "Yeah."
> Leaning down, you nuzzle his cheek - drawing a wince from the younger pony, though he doesn't pull away.
"I'm just worried about you, bro. More ponies are going to be coming, y'know? And they're not always going to see things the same way we do. It's different out there."
> You pull back, and Rumble looks back up with an uncertain expression.
"I didn't say anything to anyone about this. I'm not going to. But if you start a fight when any of the new ponies, I might not be able to protect you."
> And if he did anything bad enough, the little voice in the back of your head whispers, you might have to betray somepony again.
> Could you send Sunburst to the whipping post?
> Cadance?
> Turn the entire escape plan over, even though they were thinking it through this time?
> Perhaps more importantly, keep Rumble from figuring it out?
"It's not about rules or anything like that. I just don't want to see you get hurt, y'know?"
> "...yeah."
> Flopping down, Rumble lets his ears hang and wings splay out.
> "Yeah, and - I guess I should say - sorry to him too. If he's still there."
"That'd be nice, yeah. You know, he said there are better places for free ponies but he's staying here because he wants to keep an eye on his friends?"
> "Well, I can see why you like him. That's kinda what you do, isn't it? Not leaving, but doing this."
"...guess so."
> "Big bro-"
> Rolling over awkwardly, Rumble grins up at you.
> "-if I promise to try and not fight some more, will you feel better?"
> You grin, nodding.
"Absolutely. Especially if you actually follow through on it!"
> Rumble's eyes roll exasperatedly.
"Careful. You keep doing that, they'll fall right out of your head."
> "Hah, hah."
"I'm serious. That's the only reason I snapped at you out there - being worried. If Transom hadn't agreed he'd done wrong, if he had reported what'd happened..."
> "Yeah, I get it."
> Smile fading down to a more reasonable level, Rumble nods again.
> "I get it, and I will try. I promise. Really try."
"I know you will, bro."
> "I'm just..."
> Rumble looks away, fidgeting with his wings.
> Ears turns and swivel, as if searching for something to interrupt what he wants to say.
> Leaning in, you brush your muzzle across his cheek.
> "...I'm scared, bro. Really scared."
"It's okay, Rumble. I'm listening."
> "What if we get free, and we're just like that? Just... jerks now. Like Anonymous. If being slaves made us give up on everything and stop being... ponies anymore."
> He swallows hard, ears laying flat against his head.
> "Or... what if ponies start thinking everypony outside is like that, and they... Thunderlane, what if they stop trying to get our freedom back?"
> Reaching out with a hoof, he hooks it around your leg.
> "I don't wanna be broken. I don't wanna be a slave forever..."
"Hey..."
> Tucking you wing around his body, you pull Rumble in against your side.
> He accepts, staying there wedged in against your ribs.
> Sometimes he was so independent and mature you forgot how young he really was.
> Forgot that while he was on the edge of being a full-grown stallion, he was still the little colt who needed a big brother to support him as well.
> A colt who could be very, very afraid of the unknown.
"You want to know a secret, Rumble? I'm scared too. Especially because of what I do. Because I'm always worried ponies will see this and think it's a good thing. Forget that I'm not doing it for Anonymous. I'm doing it for us."
> You grimace, hard:
"I shouldn't have to do this. Shouldn't have to protect ponies from being hurt, shouldn't have to stop them from taking back their freedom because what'll happen to them is worse. But I don't forget it, and I don't let anypony else either."
> "Yeah."
> Rumble rubs at his nose, then nods.
> "I get it."
"So don't worry too much. When the new ponies start coming here, remember to show them that we've not given up. We're still who we were. Are. Can you do that for me?"
> "Yeah. I can, bro. Thanks."
> Laughing, you ruffle Rumble's spiked-up mane - and a second later, are ducking a noogie of his own as Rumble slips out of your grip and returns the favor.
 
> "Cadance?"
> Anonymous' voice catches you by surprise; you hadn't been expecting him out quite so soon.
> Setting down the pen in your magical grip, you look up and find him walking out across the field towards you.
"Anonymous."
> A dip of your head in acknowledgement of his approach.
"Is something the matter?"
> "No, no - not yet. I just wanted to come and speak to you, and you weren't in your office..."
"Oh! It was such a pleasant day, I just took the ledger books outside to work over them - and to give Flurry Heart a bit more time in the air."
> Lifting a wing, you reveal the rest of the filly - thoroughly conked out against your side.
"She fell asleep afterward. It's exhausting for her."
> "Ah."
> Lowering his voice, Anonymous drops to one knee, then seats himself in the grass beside you and lowers his voice.
> "Any luck?"
> Your ears droop an eyes fall, giving him all the answer he needs.
> Anonymous, too, frowns - eyes
> "I'm sorry... I don't know why. I spoke with Sunburst, and he says she's advancing well in using her other magic. He's even moving her on to some of the more complex things he can teach."
"I know; he's been sending me weekly updates too."
> Sighing, you turn your head down and brush your muzzle through her mane.
"In truth, I've been bringing her out here alone because I thought she might have been - worried about disappointing you somehow, and if she practiced out of your sight..."
> "...then it wouldn't be the first thing on her mind. It doesn't seem to have worked, though."
"No. Now I'm wondering if I approached it the wrong way around - if she needed to have that reassurance that you approved of it."
> "I'm afraid I can't really answer for that. And, it's getting to be about time for Flurry to head back home and meet Megan when she comes home from school."
"Is it?"
> You peer up with eyes narrowed to consult the angle of the sun.
"So it is; I hadn't realized how long I'd been out here."
> Standing, you stretch and lean down to nuzzle Flurry Heart.
> She stirs a bit, yawning wide and stretching out her wings far enough Anonymous has to lean away with a little chuckle.
"Little Gem... it's time to wake up. You need to go see to Megan?"
> "Is it time?"
> Yawning again, Flurry stumbles to her feet - and then a second long, back-arching stretch joins the yawn.
> "Alright, Mama. As soon as you take me ba- oh! Master!"
> Immediately she sweeps into a bow, but Anonymous only reaches out and strokes down her neck.
> "Hello, Flurry Heart. Did you have a good nap?"
> "Yes, Master. I - I hope you didn't have to come out here for me!"
> "Not at all, Flurry. But actually, once your mother is done putting her books away - I think I'd like her to come up to the house too."
> You know an order when you hear one.
"I'll be up as soon as I can."
> Anonymous heads off in one direction, your daughter close at his side.
> You go in another, swinging by the 'town hall' to replace the ledgers and briefly speak with Mayor Mare.
> She simply nods when you mention your destination, mentioning that Anonymous had been through looking for you earlier in the day.
> Wishing her a good evening you slip up into the house, you're barely through the first room when Megan rushes past you in a blur of pounding feet, golden hair, and wild giggling.
> "Hi Cadance!"
> Galloping close on her heels is your daughter, and half-walking, half-stumbling after her-
"Hello, Mocha."
> "Oh! Hello, Miss Cadance."
> The little unicorn maid smiles, but you can see the tremble in her body from the effort of trying to keep up.
"Were you supposed to be looking after them?"
> "Um, no. I was just keeping an eye on them. On my own. Because I, um, don't have too many of my duties back yet..."
> And yet, Mocha Cream had put her uniform right back on and thrown herself into working again.
> She'd even re-done her mane into its old, curled style.
> Her will cannot be faulted, but...
> Silently you add another curse against the slavery that had left a young mare only able to define herself by what she could do for her Master.
> Another curse in an already mountainous pile.
"Well, in that case why don't you come with me?"
> "O-Okay, Miss Cadance."
> You slow your pace as Mocha Cream falls in beside you, taking slow steps so as not to trip her up.
"So, what has Anonymous had you doing?"
> "Um, a few of my old duties. Like, um, making up his bed in the mornings. But, not many."
> Softer, in almost a whisper:
> "I'm not very fast. Since I, um, can't use my magic...
> This close, you can see a few bumps where she must have tumbled trying to push herself.
"You know, Mocha, I'm sure he appreciates you still. You don't have to hurt yourself."
> "Oh-h... It's not too b-bad. I'm working on my magic with Sunburst, though."
"When he comes here?"
> "Yes. H-He comes to teach your daughter, but he c-can usually spare a little bit of time for me. I'm doing a little better; he's given me some magic exercises to do."
> Probably, you think, the same ones he was using to teach your daughter - a filly.
> Mocha Cream wasn't a fool; she undoubtedly knew she was doing routines meant for ponies half her age.
> But she needed to believe she was making some kind of progress...
> "Oh! And, um, I've been - um - I've been l-learning how to. Um. Do massages."
> You stop in place with a surprised look, noting Mocha Cream's flushing cheeks, but she keeps going on talking:
> "I've been watching movies showing me h-how. Um, on a computer. Master Anonymous lets me."
> No wonder she sounded proud; few slaves got access to computers.
> Even you - the most powerful machine in your office was a calculator.
"...Anonymous is, is he?"
> "Uh-huh. He's been really nice, even though I'm n-not very good... he lets me stay with him a lot, and says that when if I get b-better and if I do good at learning m-m-massages he might even - even let me-"
> She cuts off with a gasp, stumbling - both in word and walk.
> A second later she is up again, face positively scarlet and tail swishing nervously.
> "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"No, no. It's quite okay, Mocha."
> Trotting to her side, you lift her upright with a gentle burst from your horn - and then berate yourself for reminding the pony what she could not do herself.
"Thank you for walking with me. I've got to go talk to Anonymous now."
> Once Mocha is seen off you let the princess-ly smiling mask slip from your face and head upstairs.
> Anonymous is waiting for you in his study, and motions you over to his side.
> "Cadance, hey. I wanted to show you some of the plans, and-"
> You approach, but other thoughts are swirling in your head.
> Half of you wants to tell him off for toying with Mocha Cream's heart.
> Of course the pony needed a goal, needed reassurance.
> But the way he was leading her on...
> It wasn't right.
> Their 'relationship' wasn't right.
> It was the basic exploitation of slavery; how could he not see that?
> Was he totally blind to what he was doing to her?
> Or, worse - did he just not care?
[Choice]
> Okay, maybe a full-on lecture wasn't necessary.
> But it still would be good to mention this.
"Before we get to anything else, Anonymous, there's something else I want to mention."
> Catching your tone, he swivels in place to cock his head questioningly.
> Shutting the door gently you approach him - not sitting, but remaining standing.
> With him seated, your eyes are just about at the same level.
> You can almost look at him as an equal.
"I am... worried about Mocha Cream. Not about her injuries, but about what is happening in her mind."
> "What about it? You think she's becoming depressed?"
"I think she is doing something very worrisome to avoid becoming depressed. She is... defining herself by what she can do for you. Totally. All she's focused on is being able to serve you again. And..."
> Here would be the critical point.
> This all hinged on whether he cared about her as a living being, a pony, a young mare who had lost foalhood to bondage.
> Or just as property to do his bidding.
"...she is devoted to you, Anonymous; I do not have to be the Princess of Love to see that."
> "I know."
> He looks away, off towards the window - his favorite spot to stare when he doesn't want to face you.
> "She admitted it in the hospital after she was attacked. I thought it was the painkillers loosening her lips a little bit... I don't think she remembers telling me."
"Even if she does not, her feelings haven't changed. And when you tell her to start preparing for - let us be honest - a reasonably intimate activity... she can barely talk about it without locking up and stuttering or stumbling."
> Stepping around, you force yourself back into his line of sight.
"Anonymous. I have to ask... what are your plans for her? How long will you keep this up? Do you intend to give her more, or is this just... stringing her along?"
> He glares, but you hold your ground.
"The night after Chrysocolla died, when I stayed in your bed with you - you told me then you hadn't brought in another pony to replace Mocha Cream because you were missing her, not just a servant. 'Someone who saw you as something real', I think your words were? But she isn't your equal either, is she?"
> "No."
> He sighs.
> "And you're right. If I'm to be totally honest I am leading her along because - it does feel nice to be appreciated. It's not the only reason - Mocha is a sweet girl, and I like seeing her happy too. I told her to start learning the massage stuff because she was excited about it. But... as my love?"
> More than just your ears were open.
> The sense granted by your particular Talent had reached out as well, picking over his thoughts as he spoke.
> "For two years I barely gave her a glance, and then when I did... after she stopped being scared, Mocha was so grateful. When I was at my lowest, angry at you and myself for what we'd both done she was there for me. So I kept doing that."
> And all your senses confirm what he is saying:
> There is something there - care, affection, and maybe even a spark of desire.
> But not the blooming flame of romance.
> Not the bond of lovers.
> In a way, you are relieved:
> He had to be twice her age at the least, and along with his power over her you can't say you were confident such a love could ever be stable.
> But on the other...
"Then I have to warn you - be careful. The longer you string Mocha Cream along, let her indulge this fantasy, the more it will hurt her when she realizes you do not return the same devotion she shows you."
> "You 'have to' warn me?"
"Yes. In every role I hold - as the leader of the ponies here, to protect one of mine from being crushed. As your servant, to keep you from losing another pony you rely on very much. And - as your -"
> You hesitate on the word, not sure if it fits.
"-As your friend, to keep you from being hurt by it too. Because, speaking as somepony who knows a lot about relationships, it will."
> "...yes, I guess that is true."
> His head cocks.
> " 'Friend', though? Well, not too far off I suppose. You are becoming far more than even an adviser now."
> Knowing when you cease pushing your luck, you bow your head a touch in a submissive gesture.
"I'm glad to hear you think that... Master."
> That placates Anonymous; he reaches out to lightly rub your cheek.
> "I'm glad you do tell me these things, Cadance. It's always good to know I can rely on you."
> Reassuring to hear, but you do wonder how he views you - or perhaps ponies in general.
> Clearly you were more than just a slave - more even than a trusted servant.
> He'd made that abundantly clear time and time again.
> But you were not an equal.
> Friend - that had given him hesitation.
> Did he fear what he would have to confront in himself if he allowed you to become that.
> For all the time you'd spent with him, Anonymous - and indeed humans in general - were still an enigma.
> You wanted to understand them, to figure out what path would lead to the end of this.
> But how the man that doted on his daughter and comforted Mocha Cream could exist in the same body as the one who kept you in bondage...
"May I ask you something - difficult, Master?"
> "If you feel it is important."
> You don't hear a 'no' there.
"You missed Mocha Cream when she was away, and even when we were at odds you seemed to want to trust me. I feel-"
> Not sense.
> Anonymous didn't seem to know the degree of finesse you could sense the direction of his heart.
> Best not to drop that now.
"-like you are very much missing someone in general. Do you... have anyone else who can see you that way, Master?"
> He gapes; clearly that had not been what he'd expected you to ask.
> "You know, in another time... that could be seen as far, far overstepping your reach, Cadance."
"Yes."
> That was why you'd kept your posture submissive, expression concerned, and called him Master.
> To avoid that reaction.
> "But..."
> If you hadn't been standing in front of him already, he'd surely have turned his eyes from you.
> As is, he settles for staring at his lap.
> "...no. Not many. Especially not here - after Megan's mother and I... separated and I moved out here to put that all behind me and begin work on this place... not many."
"You know, Aunt Celestia once set a great deal of good in motion just by telling a certain pony to go out and make friends. And you saw that I needed a break from my duties when I couldn't. Maybe you need some time off as well."
> "Maybe."
> Another hefty sigh, and you're again reminded just how lucky you are to be able to speak freely with him like this.
> "But if I don't finish this expansion, finding someone to hug will be the least of my concerns. It's possible you're right - but not something I can afford to worry about right now."
"...I understand, Anonymous."
> In part.
> At least he seemed to get the point that leading Mocha Cream ...
> That, too, would be a fight for another day.
> "Speaking of which - what I wanted to call you up here for."
> Swiveling in his seat, Anonymous turns to his desk and pulls up something on-screen.
> "I've got a major meeting with a number of investors and - now - business partners coming up. Some, the people who are providing my new stock that will be coming in. Others, the equipment vendors I'll be turning to once I know what we're working with."
> The list of names he has drawn up is meaningless to you, except for one:
"Randall will be there?"
> "Yes; he has to be. And, I think, so should you."
"I understand."
> "It will not be held here. We're going to have to head into the city to do this - about an hour, hour and a half out. The office belongs to one of the market-owners."
> Your stomach twists and heart leaps simultaneously.
> Out of the camp...
> How long had it been now, since you'd seen anything beyond those fences?
> This place might have been more comfortable than a literal cage, but metaphorically it still very much was one.
> Even the brief escapees who had been brought back carried barely any new news; it hadn't been the first things on their minds.
> At the same time you cannot deny a sense of apprehension.
> To be seen, to be recognized - not to mention going into the office of a slave trader?
> Well.
> It wasn't going to be pleasant.
"I understand."
> "Gene will be coming, and - if you would like - I think Mayor Mare could be brought as well. She'd manage."
"Maybe. I will think it over."
> Catching the nervous tone, Anonymous reaches out to put a hand on your withers.
> "It'll be alright, Cadance. Probably easier than the time we had them all over for dinner that one night."
"I won't have to play your obedient pet, then?"
> "Obedient, yes. I don't want any lip, no matter what they say. But not a 'pet'; you won't have to wear anything... fancy like you did the last time. We're playing a different game now - they know I can control you, now we show them I can trust you."
> A baited breath is released.
"That will be much preferred."
> ...
> In the end, you chose to wear something nonetheless, albeit much more rational than the 'outfit' he'd saddled you with last time.
> A simple shawl thrown around your barrel and helped disguise the bulge of your wings and cover your mark, while your mane had been carefully tied back in a tail before being covered with a headscarf as well.
> From a distance, at least, you were merely an unusually large unicorn.
> You hoped.
> A part of you was humiliated that you were hiding yourself when so many ponies out there needed you.
> But they did not need to see a princess walking obediently on a leash.
> Practically from the second the car had pulled away from the camp, your eyes had been glued to the window.
> Every little town passed, then as you entered the city and its glittering towers of glass...
> As wondrous as they were, you didn't have eyes for any of the structures.
> No, you were a constant search for other ponies.
> A hoof-full had been spotted on the highway, but in the city...
> Everywhere.
> Trotting on the sidewalks, saddlebags laden and sagging with loads.
> Pausing to haul trash-bags from streetside cans and toss them into carts they were harnessed to.
> Walking meekly at the heels of men and women holding their leads.
> Some are completely unadorned, while others wear clothes - some rational, others declaring their owners' use for them for all the world to see.
> But all bear signs of their slavery:
> Collars on their necks or bridles on their heads, lead by leashes of rope, plastic, or chain.
> Some wings are bound or feathers clipped.
> Here and there restrictor rings sit heavy on horns.
> Sometimes they are close you can see the faded scars of punishments past.
> Sometimes the scars are not physical, but visible nonetheless - in the fearful glance of an eye or the cringing, skulking walk at an owners' side.
> Passing through an intersection, the distant repetitive crack of a whip meets your ears.
> Thankfully it is far enough you cannot see the circumstances.
> Even where the cruelty is not so immediately apparent, the sheer normalcy of it all adds a whole other layer to it.
> How many thousands - hundreds of thousands - walk side by side with this every day never blinking an eye.
> "Penny for your thoughts, Cadance?"
"Just... thinking about all of this."
> Shuffling in your seat, you adjust yourself and tug awkwardly at the collar that sits snug on your throat.
> Anonymous takes a hand from the wheel to scratch beneath it, which you have to admit actually feels quite nice.
> "Sorry about this, Cadance, but rules are the rules out here. Not on my property anymore."
"I know. I don't blame you."
> You're almost happy when he turns into a garage; at least there would not be far to go in public.
> Anonymous gets out to let the valet in, but you wait until he comes around to your side before getting out yourself.
> Taking your lead in hand, he straightens his tie and you light your horn briefly to pull the shawl down over your flanks.
> "Ready?"
"No, Master. Let's go."
> Keep at Anonymous' side, head raised but not too high.
> Don't hold yourself stiff, that only makes your hoofsteps fall harder.
> Just walk slowly, comfortably, as if this were just another day out and about with Anonymous.
> In theory, it's simple enough.
> In practice, keeping yourself calm demands a fair degree of your focus.
> That Anonymous has to do most of the work - checking in with the security guard and being buzzed in - is something of a relief.
> So far, at least, your disguise is holding.
> A handful of humans and ponies glance up as you enter the building's main lobby, lingering on your too-tall form.
> You can feel their eyes roving over you, but you're hardly the only leggy unicorn out there and none are close enough to realize what the telltale bulges at your sides indicate.
> "Ah, Mr. Anonymous - welcome, welcome!"
> One well-suited man had detached himself from the far wall, and was now striding towards you.
> Though a few other men and women follow close behind him, it's apparent Anonymous is the focus of his attention.
> "Mr. Stedler? Thank you for taking time out of your day for us."
> "I'm afraid Mr. Stedler is upstairs dealing with one final matter beforehand. Come on in though; a few of the others are still showing up so I'll take you downstairs and show you around a bit before we get started."
> "Oh? Would you prefer I send my assistant up to the meeting room while we walk?"
> Anonymous motions down to you, and later you would realize there'd been a note of implied suggestion in his tone to you as well.
> In the moment, however, your guide barely spares you a glance; evidently ponies are well-beneath even his briefest consideration.
> "No, no. It's fine. She seems very well behaved. Considering your business, I'm sure she won't have any problems seeing our work."
> That comment sets off alarm bells in your head, but by that time it is already too late.
> To refuse would imply you - disgust rises in your throat - weren't suitably trained.
> Caught between the two, you only think to put on the appearance of a "properly obedient" pony.
"I will accompany you, Master, in case you need me."
> "Yes, she... should be fine."
> "Good, good! Come on, then."
> The suit leads you back towards the rear of the lobby, through a huge pair of double doors.
> From the way Anonymous is looking at you, the suspicion that you'd just made an error was growing.
> No in anger, but with worry.
> Why is not immediately apparent; the passage you are walking through is well-appointed and broad enough to fit quite a few walking side-by-side, but otherwise offers no hints.
> Thinking back, you remember the building being relatively nondescript compared to those around it:
> Sheathed in glass and steel with an excellent view of the many rows of offices within, though the light gleaming from it was colder than that of the Crystal Empire.
> It was merely offices, no?
> "We do most of our sales online now, with delivery straight to the customer's door. Size of our business demands it. Most of our customers aren't making orders nearly as large as yours, of course, but - we do still do a little bit of direct sales from the floor here."
> A flight of steps are descended, another pair of doors pushed open-
> And instantly you understand your mistake.
> The building above may be offices, but down here in the windowless below...
> Ponies.
> That was what this business was about, after all.
> Long rows of pens, barely wide enough to lay down in but with low walls for prospective buyers looking over the edges at the captives seated, standing, or sprawled within.
> Most wore halters tied or chained to their pens.
> Every few spaces, however, you saw one who was simply standing there with no need to be held in place.
> All myriad of emotions expressed in those faces:
> Fear, concealed barely enough that one unfamiliar to pony body language might miss it.
> Passive acceptance of the fate they had found themselves in.
> Most sickening to you, hope.
> Eyes that peer out as the small group you were part of entered, begging silently that someone might stop and pay attention to them.
> It's a blow to your gut, a physical kick in the belly.
> How easy it was, locked away behind the camp's fences, that this was the fate of so many ponies every single day...
> You almost linger too long, barely avoiding stumbling as the group starts forward and Anonymous tugs your lead.
> "They all look very well-kept."
> Huddling close to his far side, you keep him as much between you and the rows of pens as possible.
> Chuckling, the man guiding you slips back a bit and whispers conspiratorially to him:
> "Well, of course we put out our better stock right up here first and foremost! These are the cream of our crop - those that haven't been sold yet, anyway. This is basically a mall."
> He pulls a phone from his pocket and waves it in the direction of the pens.
> "They can just scan the placard on a pen, then buy online. We do delivery, or they pick them up directly. It's better than having inventory just sitting around doing nothing while we wait for a buyer."
> Inventory.
> That's all they are to him - things to be bought, sold, profited on.
> How many families were split here, lives taken apart simply for the exchange of money?
> Beside you, Anonymous glances at his phone and raises an eyebrow:
> "Well, if this is the cost your normally ask then I'm getting quite the discount."
> "Of course you are! With the size of the order you put in... look, normally people want multiple ponies, they're looking for something kind of specific. You? You're just buying."
> "I've got a couple of ponies who are real good at finding exactly the right place for all my stock."
> Anonymous reaches around to give you a pat on the head; rather than his normal attempted-reassuring touch, it feels almost condescending.
"My Master may have use of those types of services once our first lots have arrived. He is considering further acquisitions once our initial lots have been settled into their new roles."
> "That so? Well, trust me - if it's on the market, I can find it. People come looking for me with every kind of request - similar talents, special training graduates, similar appearances... we had this one guy who was looking for a couple of sisters, heh."
> A sick shudder runs along your belly.
> Not 'family', or 'a sister'.
> Sisters.
> Perhaps you are being too harsh; perhaps it was another attempted reunion.
> But your intuition tells you that it was for a far darker purpose.
> There was no special cruelty in this place, but neither was there any protection.
> A glance in one direction, and you see a mare in a stall talking quietly with a young woman leaning over the edge - her hand stroking the pony's neck softly.
> A look in the other, and a laughing girl reaches into a pen to tug a colt's ears back and forth; her mother babbles away on a phone oblivious to the pony's silent suffering.
> Head sinking and ears laid flat, you hunch your shoulders and sink in on yourself.
> Tune out the talk around you.
> You'd forgotten how this world could be sometimes.
> Forgotten that for all his cruelty and obliviousness to how he trod on his slaves, Anonymous was not the worst thing out there.
> More even than the few who did look to hurt, were the many who did nothing to protect.
> And-
> "-Princess Cadance?"
> Even at a distance, the lone pony's voice cuts through the chatter of the men and women around you.
> Your head snaps up before you can help it, and immediately you understand what had happened:
> Hunched over as you'd been the shawl wrapped around your barrel had ridden up... exposing the tips of your wings.
> The purple tints at the tips of your primaries had betrayed you, making wings stand out against coat.
> "Princess Cadance! It is you!"
> Too late you realize your error; you shouldn't have acknowledged him but just ept your head down.
> At every side, the others have paused, looking around in surprise - except for Anonymous, who has realized what is about to happen.
> "Excuse me, I think we should be-"
> His attempt to avoid the impending disaster is for nothing, though, as it's already too late.
> "Everypony! Everypony, Princess Cadance is here!"
> "What?!"
> "Who is yelling that?"
> "Where? I can't see her!"
> "Look there, on the right!"
> "You stupid nag, you're seeing things."
> "No she isn't! I see her too! Princess Cadance!"
> "There's a princess here?"
> More and more voices join in, ponies rearing up to peer over the edges of their pens to spy you.
> "Is she coming to save us?"
> "Princess! Over here!"
> "Fuck the princesses. They left us here to rot!"
> "Hey, fuck you!"
> "Your Highness!"
> "She's on a leash! She's one of them now!"
> "Cadance is here to bring us home!"
> Your name.
> Your title.
> Over and over, in a rising hubbub as word spreads from pen to pen like a leaping flame.
> Chains rattle and fencing creaks as rows on rows of ponies strain at their leashes to catch a glimpse of their Princess.
> You...
> You panic.
> Terror creeps up like a tide of icy water; you weren't ready for this!
> Not here, not now!
> Not so many!
> Beside you, Anonymous takes hold of your collar and pulls:
> "I said, I think we should be going now!"
> This seems to finally snap the guide out of his out of his brain-freeze.
> "Yes, yes - uh, exit this way!"
> Calling it a retreat is an exaggeration, but you do leave the space at rather faster than a sedate stroll.
> Already guards are moving among the rows of pens, wielding cracking lashes and spraying ponies with something that makes them rear back and whinny in pain and fear.
> Even a whiff of the peppery substance is enough to make your nostrils burn.
> The doors shut slam shut behind you, sealing you off from the clamor - barely.
> You can still hear the hubbub beyond, though, and stare back with pinprick eyes.
> Across the hall, the man who'd been guiding you stares as well - but at you.
> You cringe back in expectation of an unleashed tirade, but instead it is the doors at the far end of the hall that slam open.
> The man striding out to meet him is... enormous, in every sense of the word.
> Fat, yes, but also hugely tall and broad with a deep-booming voice that lends him a larger-than-life presence.
> Even his mustache is oversized, a bristly bush occupying the entire center of his face.
> "Anonymous! I heard we almost had a riot down here. Very sorry that happened; I can assure you it's not the norm around here."
> "I know. I tried to tell him she should have been sent upstairs, but..."
> Your would-be guide winces at that, and then flinches again as Stedler - and there's no doubt in your mind this is the man you've come to meet - glares at him.
> "That can be dealt with later. Not your fault, I'm sure you did the right thing."
> Stedler's eyes hit you, and his eyebrows rise as he takes notice of your covered wings.
> "So this is her, is it? Your prize, the one who keeps them in-line for you?"
> "Yes, this is my key."
> You duck your head in a bow, which prompts a laugh from Stedler.
> "And very well behaved, too! I didn't quite believe it, but you've done a good job with her."
> "Well, in truth I was lucky in many respects..."
> Keeping your voice soft, you add:
"Master has given me more for me than I had any reason to even hope for."
> Laughing, Stedler rises back up to his full height.
> "Never thought I'd see this in my life - they haven't found anyone who can crack the youngest one yet, y'know? Word is she's still a hell in a handbasket any chance she gets."
> The youngest one.
> Considering the context there could only be one pony he is referring to, and your heart aches in recognition of what it means.
> Twilight, what have they been doing?
> "Well, we can all gawk a bit later. Come on, I'll show you upstairs."
> Up ten storys into a large conference room where a few familiar faces already are in attendance.
> Aside from the gigantic man who owned this place, some you recognize from the night of the dinner as well:
> Posey smiles widely from a spot across the table; you shoot her a smile back.
> Though Randall cannot see you, he senses something is happening and Posey rears up to whisper in his ear.
> A second later he offers a wave of his own in almost your direction.
> Others faces from that evening are notably (and to your relief) absent.
> Anonymous had kept his word when he'd dismissed Catherine's breeding operation as having any role in this.
> Behind you, another familiar face enters:
> Gregory Barker pauses by Anonymous' seat, shaking his hand and even offering to take your hoof.
> "Good to see both of you! How is everything there?"
"Much better, Sir."
> This time, your smile is genuine.
"There've been no more issues at home, I'm glad to say. If I may ask...?"
> No need to even finish your statement; Gregory quickly guesses.
> "Windy Winters is doing fine. Excellently, in fact - no trouble at all and an enthusiastic learner, even if he does have an independent streak. He'll be fine; at the rate he's learning it won't be too long before I'll be sending him to somewhere he'll be really appreciated."
> The bow you give him is not merely just for show.
> This once - just this once - a pony had been spared from a worse fate.
"I'm very glad to hear it. Thank you again for being willing to give him another chance."
> Any further conversation is interrupted by Stedler barging in again, his presence immediately overwhelming even Gregory's formidable size.
> He gives the trainer a jovial slap on the back and laughs a deep belly laugh.
> "Yeah, Greg here has a damn good business going. Y'know, if you ever want that offer is still open."
> "Afraid I'm going to still have to say no. Independent is just my style."
> "Bah. One day I'll buy you out. Now, where's Scriptorial? If she's late again I'll give her hide a tanning-"
> "Right here, Master! Just rounding up the last few documents."
> An aged, elegantly-dressed pony has just arrived, offering up a sheaf of papers clipped to a tray resting on her back.
> Both go to sit down; you look for a seat of your own, but a glance at Posey and Stedler's slave makes it clear you're meant to sit on the floor - or stand - by Anonymous' side.
> Not an equal, merely a pony.
> "Right, now then!"
> Stedler's voice booms out again, instantly pulling everyone's attention back to him.
> "I think we should all know who we are but just in case - Rich Stedler, owner of Foremost Equine Labor Traders. My pony, Scriptorial."
> "Good afternoon, Sirs."
> She drops into a quick curtsey, but Stedler is already going on:
> “Gregory Barker, probably the best high-skill trainer outside my own business. Scott Fledermann, my transportation director..."
> Mentally you make note of each name and position its bearer occupied, until at last-
> "And, of course, Anonymous - the reason we're all here - and his pony... Mi Amore Cadenza, is it?"
> You start, caught unawares by his knowledge of your true name.
> A moment later Anonymous' hand is resting between your ears, rubbing in a motion that is simultaneously both demeaning and calming.
> "She simply goes by Cadance."
> Dropping your head submissively, you try to ignore Scriptorial's unabashed shocked stare.
"I assist my Master in many respects of running the camp. I will answer any questions you may have to the best of my ability."
> Once they begin discussing - speaking of allotments, arrival dates, ratios of grades of purchase - you become even less important.
> Consulted on demand, but mostly there to listen and make your own notes.
> In between moments of the room's attention being focused on you, your thoughts inevitably stray back to the moment in the basement below.
> They wanted you to save them.
> Expected you to.
> The absent crown weighs heavy on your head.
> But how could you?
> Even if Anonymous could buy every pony in that room, it would be a mere drop in the rainstorm.
> And not be to take them home but merely into other servitude at that.
> A sharp reminder of the scale of your task.
> ...and a foretaste of what it would be like when the new ponies arrived.
> They, too, would undoubtedly expect things of you.
> And it would be a lie to say you weren't somewhat terrified of the prospect.
> Eventually a break is called for stretching of legs, refilling of cups, and/or emptying of bladders.
> The room quickly empties; Anonymous taps you on the shoulder and unclips the leash from your collar:
> "See if they have some coffee, would you?"
"Of course, Master."
> Though not before a considerable stretch of your own.
> That was your first thing to do - pausing in a quiet stretch of hallway and allowing your long-constrained wings to burst from beneath the wrap covering them, stretching to span nearly wall-to-wall.
> Their joints pop and groan, and you allow your forehooves to reach out to extend your back and let all four legs stretch too.
> A happy little sigh escapes your throat, and-
> You pause with ears pricked and forward:
> From somewhere up ahead there'd been a sharp, loud sound.
> Tucking your wings back beneath their wrap you slip forward - and darken when you recognize what you are hearing:
> A sharp, repetitive striking and two familiar voices, one raised in pain:
> "-ever, ever be late like that again Scriptorial. I expect you on-time just like anyone else!"
> "Yes - ah! - yes, Master!"
> "This is the biggest business deal I have ever had, and he is only going to buy more. If you ruin it-"
> "I understand Master - ahhh!"
> Ears pinned and levity drained, you turn on a hind hoof and flee.
> Somehow, you reflect as the machine gurgles and hisses while filling the mug, this doesn't feel as humiliating as it might seem.
> Perhaps because you were not being beaten for such little things-
> "Cadance."
> The sudden voice nearly makes you jump as you spin to face it.
> Scriptorial stares at you with narrowed eyes, as if still studying and judging.
> In turn you study her:
> Old enough for a lime green mane to have started fading into grey and her stray coat to begin going dull.
> Still beautiful in an simple way - and her clothing had been done very well.
> Yet not slavenly or with intent to... show her off, but with true beauty in mind.
> Her eyes still damp from earlier, but showing a keen sharpness as well.
> You are reminded of nopony so much as Mayor Mare.
"I am."
> "They're saying you ran away downstairs. Couldn't face any other pony here."
> Her words are pointed, but not accusatory.
> It is answers Scriptorial wants, not to see you humbled.
"It was... close to a riot. Someone - somepony - could have been hurt, and my Master ordered us quickly out."
> "A riot, I hear, you didn't do much to stop. Hiding your wings too, I see."
> A motion of her head indicates the shawl over your barrel, and you frown.
"I was afraid that if I spoke, it would only provoke something worse. I don't think either of us would have wanted that."
> "Either of us, or our Masters? If not to speak to your ponies, then what do you want?"
> Again you reassess this pony.
> Stedler had been beating her, but she did not seem to look to him with fear.
> She wore a slave's collar, yes, but it was of fabric and not steel.
> And, of course, she was no fool and seemed to play a pivotal role in his operation.
> Just how do you answer this...?
[Choice]
"Scriptorial, there is no easy way to say this. I am not a - a savior for these ponies. Not coming in with my head held high, wings spread, crown on my head, breaking chains and leading us all out to freedom. That Princess died out in the snow of Equestria, and what survived... I am not a broken mare-"
> You hope.
> Have to believe.
"-but I am not here as a Princess. I am here as my Master's pony, his loyal assistant, a role I have to bear no matter how demeaning or... painful it is."
> "Have to?"
> The mare's eyes narrow as she studies you, and you study her back.
"Yes, I have to. He already owns a large number of ponies already, and their wellbeing must be my first concern. Their lives are... better than this, even if still slaves; if I assume authority I cannot actually wield it would only put their lives on a track to being destroyed. I step out of line, and his image is ruined. But if I assist him - he is here to bring more ponies out of this to that better life. He will. And..."
> Your head hangs.
"Do you think it would do good for any of the poor ponies chained down there? If I were to stand up and say yes, I am Mi Amore Cadenza? If I were not to cover my wings? Would they not be driven to even greater excitement? Even more hurt when I cannot help?"
> The mug full of coffee is still cooling in the machine, but somehow it doesn't seem to matter anymore.
> Scriptorial continues give you an inscrutable look, and you only blunder further on:
"I want - I want to help them. So very, very badly. But if I give them false hope - is that help? I can only work with Anonymous and make use of the little gifts he gives us."
> "With him, is it now? And by first name?"
> Your breath catches, but Scriptorial shakes her head.
> "I make no judgements on what you do, Cadance. I know what business Stedler is in, and as much as I hate it and wish I were not... fighting would not help at all. Besides, he is no monster either."
"He beats you."
 
> Scriptorial's eyes flash; she clearly had not realized you'd heard that.
> But the anger passes in a moment, and she shakes her head.
> "It sounds far, far worse than it is. Very rarely done, and I only have to make some noise and plead a little to make him stop. I am spared any real cruelty - never whipped, never forced to spread my legs for him, given a room of my own."
"Still!"
> "Of all the things I despise in this life, Cadance, that is the least of them. I would take a 'beating' like that every day I have left to live if it would mean freedom."
> As if to make her point, Scriptorial seats herself without any sign of flinch or tremor.
> Clothes cover much of her coat, but neither is there any other sign of abuse or fear.
> "You said Anonymous offers you something."
"Yes. To me, but also to the other ponies there. But, Stedler does not - offer anything to any other pony here. Beatings or not, why do you obey him if you would prefer not to?"
> "The same reason almost everypony does: I am scared. Terrified. He is not the worst, and if I am sold elsewhere-"
"It could be far worse."
> "Exactly. An old mare like me? I would not last long if I disobeyed. I am under no illusions - Stedler is a monster for what he does. But he is the least of the monsters out there, and even for the littlest things I will cling to him."
> Nodding, she raises a hoof to jab in your direction.
> "And if I had to guess, I would say you are terrified too."
"I am. I won't deny that - but not of Anonymous. I am terrified that I might do something that would send all those ponies who look up to me into even deeper cruelty."
> "Like the ponies downstairs?"
"Exactly like them. They look up to me, call me Princess. But-"
> You lift a hoof of your own to your throat, feeling the collar there.
> Even though Anonymous had removed the when the meeting began, you can still feel its phantom weight bearing on your neck.
"-I am not. Not really. I do what I can for everypony I can, because this slavery is an abomination which must end. But I fear I must also become a collaborator to do this, and every second I fear-"
> You pause, choking on your words - emotions you had only just managed to barely keep down rising up again.
"I fear I am not doing well enough. That I will fail. Something like... downstairs will happen and something will come that makes it all fall apart anyhow. And then we truly never will have freedom again."
> "May I speak honestly to you, Cadance?"
"Do you have to ask permission?"
> A touch of a smile flitters around Scriptorial's lips.
> "I didn't challenge you because I thought you weren't afraid. I knew you were afraid. I wanted to know why."
> You let your head fall a touch, unsure of how else to respond.
> Fortunately, Scriptorial is perfectly happy to keep going:
> "I'm not sure we need Princesses anymore. I always did think that even if one of you showed up it just - wouldn't be the same. Your crown, your titles - they're all for a nation we won't ever have back. You lost the right to them when we were taken away."
> The indictment pierces straight to your heart, but she is not done yet:
> "But... you aren't claiming titles or authority. You're working for it. You're fighting. You're doing more than I ever could, jumping at the little scraps of 'rewards' Stedler throws in my direction. And maybe..."
> Now it is her turn to be the one looking down at her hooves.
> "...maybe you've earned the right to be a leader."
> Rising, you reach out with a hoof to brush Scriptorial's cheek, then lift her head to face you.
"I cannot demand respect. Not because I am a slave, but because I don't think I deserve it with all I've had to do. But... thank you, Scriptorial. Your words are welcome."
> "They're the truth. I can't stop Stedler from buying and selling us. He listens to me, but I can barely even keep him from treating us like dirt. I'm just keeping myself safe. But you… you have a cause."
"Every bit helps, though. And there are two things you can do for me and everypony who needs it?"
> "What? What can I do?"
> There's a fresh edge in her voice, a kind of enthusiasm that belies her age.
"First: If there are a few ponies who are languishing here for too long, see if you can ensure they are being sent to us. We will look after them - nopony deserves to live like what I saw down there."
> "I... yes. I can do that."
"Second, a favor for myself - if you would."
> "If I can."
"Twilight Sparkle. I want to know what's become of her and Anonymous does not offer me the chance. Do you know anything...?"
> "Yes. You really are cut off with him, aren't you?"
> You nod in acknowledgement.
"Convincing Anonymous to give us a connection to the outside world is something I hope to work on soon."
> "Twilight Sparkle... no one could convince her to obey. Not for a second. Fought any chance she could, nearly escaped three times. Did escape once, and got caught. Or, that's what the rumors were anyhow. She's not been sold to anyone for a long time, but there might have been private trades."
> Scriptorial ponders for a few moments.
> "I may have to make some... inquiries in Stedler's name. She won't be findable just with a simple search."
"Is it really that risky?"
> "He probably won't ever find out. Even if he does... I don't think he'll care that much, as long as I work."
"Do not endanger yourself for my sake."
> She shakes her head, seeming read to object - then changes her mind, and instead motions to somewhere behind you.
> "We should be getting back. And you might want to re-make some coffee; that'll have already cooled a bit much."
"I... yes. Thank you."
> Trotting back into the conference room, you're barely able to catch the tail-end of the discussion underway:
> ...wraps up the deliver plans; I agree, bringing them in all at once would be catastrophic. Better to split it up between a few different groups. Ah, thank you Cadance."
> Anonymous takes the mug in hand, offering you a nod in return.
> "Before we go on, one brief detour of a question: I don't suppose anyone here has experience with handling griffons, do they?"
> Stedler rubs his mustache, and of course is the first to respond:
> "There've been a decent number that passed through my business at some point or another, but not really enough to draw conclusions. They sell like anything else."
> Randall shakes his head:
> "I'm afraid I've never dealt with one."
> "Well, in my case actually..."
> All eyes turn to Gregory Barker, who is stroking his beard thoughtfully.
> "I've had a few pass through. They're... different. How do I explain it..."
> A tap on his chin as he pauses, and then:
> "They are... different from ponies, very different. There's no one talent you can direct them at, but their minds are - inquiring. So very inquiring - you can re-train them to do quite a bit. And they'll become very skilled, if you put the time and patience in to training them. Since they don't have the, ah, cutie mark talents a pony would. I consider them a long-term investment."
> "I see. And they're accepting of training? No behavioral problems?"
> You hesitate, mouth half-open.
> Griffons had been something you had - out of necessity - encountered as a princess.
> But you hadn't been called on.
> "They require some - focusing to begin with. Griffons will attempt to challenge everyone to determine exactly where they stand. Once you have dealt with that, though - few problems, for the rest of the time."
> ...but it seemed Gregory had summed up what you were going to say anyhow.
> Closing your mouth, you settle back in at Anonymous' side.
> You could tell him later; right now, you were nothing more than an actor playing a role.
> ...
> The sun was already low in the sky by the time you walked out the front doors again.
> Anonymous paused to re-clip the lead to your throat, while you pull the shawl back down over your barrel.
> Glancing back, you lock eyes with Scriptorial for a just a moment.
> She nods, and so do you.
> Then you are back out on the street.
> Anonymous' car had been driven around to the front, so it is only a quick trip before you can leap into the passenger's seat and quickly shut the door behind you.
> The world goes quiet, once again sealed in by glass and metal.
> As he pulls away you return to staring out the window as you had on the trip in.
> This time, however, you see nothing of the city, people, or even ponies passing by.
> Your mind is far, far away.
> Back in the basement beneath that building.
> Back with your name being called over and over again.
> No, not even name.
> Your title.
> A title half of you still didn't even think you deserved.
> Eyes squeeze shut as the clamor fills your ears and emotions you'd somehow managed to keep a tight lid on throughout the day boil over at last.
> So many faces - longing, hoping, even needing a speck of hope - peering up from row after row of the pens.
> Begging for you to be there for them.
> Scriptorial had accepted your answer - that to greet them would have given false hope.
> Would have only made the situation worse.
> Perhaps turned a near-riot into a real one, and ended with more than pepper-sprays and clubs.
> But still, you wonder, what kind of princess, what kind of pony, turns away from calls like that?
> How hard had your heart become that you could do that?
> So long in the camp had dulled your memories of how callously uncaring this world could be outside, but also you'd forgotten what it felt like to be - recognized.
> And what scares you the most is the knowledge that all too soon so many more ponies just like that would be showing up at the camp and-
> "Cadance? Cadance!"
"Wha-?"
> Eyes snap open, the city coming back into view.
> The car was pulled over on the side of the road, blinkers on.
> Anonymous had a hand on your shoulder, his face worried.
> "Are you okay? You were freaking out a bit there; what's going on, Cadance?"
[Choice]
"Am I okay?"
> The question is hissed between your teeth as your turn to glare at him with narrowed eyes.
> That he is slightly blurry in your vision has nothing to with anything but that.
> At all.
> Honestly.
> ...you're very bad at lying to yourself.
> Though your tail is trapped beneath your haunches, you can feel it trying to flick angrily.
"No, I am not 'okay'! Not okay at all!"
> You draw another shuddering breath, keeping control of the torrent of helplessness - and anger now - boiling up from within.
"What is wrong?! What in Tartarus' wretched halls do you think is going on, 'Master'?"
> He holds your gaze, though - refusing to flinch or look away.
> You are the first to break it, turning away with a disgusted scoff.
> Of course he was completely oblivious to-
> "I thought you were holding up better. That... was my mistake."
"Holding up?! Better?!"
> "Yes."
> Looking back, you find him still looking at you.
> One hand reaches out to settle on your withers, but you shove it off with a quick movement of your wing - and just as quickly replace the shawl before anyone can see.
> You don't particularly feel like letting him touch you right now.
> Anonymous stares at his hand a moment, then lets it fall with a sigh.
> "Yes, you did fool me. You managed to get through the last meeting despite being made to dress up for it, and I stayed calm through this one. I guess - I thought you had come to terms with it."
> It.
> That's all he calls what is happening to ponies.
> What happened to you.
"Oh, so the entire thing - the entire day - you don't see at all what was different? What little, teensy tiny thing might be slightly changed from the last time-"
> "Yes! Yes, I do!"
> Before you can go on his hand snaps up, a finger raised to silence you.
> "And yes. I know you can't help but feel responsible for them, even though it's completely irrational. I-"
> A groan, and the raised hand turns to slap his face and be dragged down to his chin.
> "That... was a stupid way to say it."
"Then be smarter."
> "Okay."
> A deep breath, and he begins again:
> "I know you view them as your charges. You'd been doing so well back home that when you waved off my warning and went in with me, then walked out without breaking down... I dunno. I guess I figured you'd be shaken, but not like that."
> As he talks, your own anger begins to bleed off - or perhaps more accurately, find its way to another target.
> He hadn't been oblivious to what had happened after all.
> Just caught off-guard by your sudden breakdown.
> "So... yeah. You get in the car just fine and I start driving, and all of a sudden you're freaking out... must've seemed like I was kind of cold about it. Yeah; that was my mistake."
"Yes. It was."
> You're still in no mood to hold back - not after seeing that.
"And you! You did not help in there either. 'They look well-kept' - my rutting flank they're well-kept! Put up on display like that, no one caring one bit about them beyond if they can be sold for profit, a single dash of hope enough to nearly make them riot-"
> As you recite down the litany of crimes you feel yourself growing more and more agitated, wings shuffling and nostrils flared in fury.
"-and not only can't I do anything, all you do is push me down further in front of that monster of a man while I am already crushing every cell in my brain that is telling me to save them!"
> Breathing hard, you finally come to a halt - eyes squeezing shut as they begin to water.
> "It's been a long time since you've seen a pony market, hasn't it?"
"Oh, yes it has! You've forgotten, I'm too important to be sold like that! Oh, nothing but private trade deals and special shipments for me. Harmony forbid I be aware of how ponies are suffering."
> Your legs have begun to tremble, shaking against the effort of holding you upright when half of you wants to leap through the car's window and half collapse into a ball on the seat.
"So many, Anonymous! So many, with no hope! Just the sight of me - even walking on a leash like a good little pony - is enough to make them risk everything! Because they 'knew' I was there to take them home. They 'knew' I was a princess, and that's what princesses do."
> Anonymous starts to say something, but you're still going:
"Even when the last lot of ponies came to the camp, it wasn't like this. But now? Now, I..."
> The words won't come.
> Even after that outpouring, you can't bring yourself to admit how shaken you were.
> "This is..."
> Hesitating, Anonymous shakes his head.
> "...nevermind."
"No, go ahead. Please, I want to hear this."
> You can't help but have your voice filled with bitterness.
> It takes him a moment, but eventually he relents:
> "This is... when the last lot of ponies were brought in, this is why I marched you out at my heels. Because I was afraid they would expect too much, and end up hurting both of us."
"So you decided to have me trot at your heels like a good little obedient pony?!"
> "Yes. There wouldn't be any illusions as to what you could do, but then you could show them the gifts I give slowly, over time, and bring them back up!"
> Finally you open your eyes, turning to skewer him with another acidic glare.
"Then you still don't get it. I don't want to show them 'the gifts you give'. I want to make them free. Each and every one of them. Marching me out to crush their hopes so I can show them all how 'benevolent' you are isn't any better, and-"
> The whoop of a siren makes you both jump.
> In the lane to the left a police officer leans out of his car with a questioning look.
> Anonymous looks to him and then to the fire hydrant on the curb where he'd pulled over.
> Right, he had stopped rather suddenly.
> Fortunately the officer is content to simply let you drive away, but the interruption is already complete.
> No words are spoken for many long minutes, not until you're well out of the city and back on the highway.
"...was I really that out of control? When you pulled over?"
> "Yeah. Eyes wide, breathing heavily, hunched over on the door - I thought you were either about snap and jump out, vomit, or both."
> No wonder he had been surprised.
> "I know it isn't what you want, and I won't force you to come out at my heels like that again. Maybe instead - walking out together. As partners."
"Thank you..."
> The words are murmured softly, almost whispered.
"It wasn't right to say you did nothing. You did try to keep me from seeing that; I shouldn't blame you for what happened."
> A pause, and Anonymous drops a hand from the steering wheel to again rest it on your withers.
> This time, you let him.
 
> Cadance had advised you to do something about Mocha Cream easily a week before the trip into the city, and now several more days had passed since then.
> At first you'd sworn to yourself that it was simply because things were too busy.
> Too many meetings, too many phone calls.
> But eventually you simply had to face up to the honest truth:
> You were procrastinating.
> Delaying.
> Stalling.
> And Cadance had been right; the poor filly wasn't going to be getting any less fixated the longer you left her be.
> So you forced yourself to set aside work for a time, and go downstairs.
> The house-slaves' quarters were in the basement, but Mocha Cream was not there.
> Instead you found her in the laundry, tongue stuck from the side of her mouth as she carefully pinned sheets between her hooves and folded them over.
> The room - otherwise a spartan space of boxy machines and cabinets, plastic-tiled floor, and basic fluorescent lighting - was noticeably livened by her presence.
> She even hummed softly as she worked, a simple tune set to the motions of her actions.
> But for you that she is not using her horn is already a note of concern; how often she loses her grip on the fabric and is forced to start over anyhow is an even greater one.
"Hello, Mocha."
> "Eee!"
> Jumping in surprise - she'd clearly been far too focused to notice you - the little unicorn spins in place and drops into a bow.
> "M-Master! I'm sorry, I didn't know-."
"Shh. It's okay."
> Taking the last few steps over you reach down to brush back a few curls of mane that had slipped from beneath her headdress.
> How long, you wondered, did it take her to get that on every morning?
"Are you doing okay, Mocha?"
> "Uh-huh. I'm just trying to practice using my hooves a bit more. So I can be better with them, for, um, w-when I..."
> She trails off, but quickly turns back to her work.
> "But my magic is getting better too! Look!"
> Fixing her face in an expression of pure concentration, Mocha Cream lights her horn and - very carefully - pulls the sheet over to fold it correctly.
> More than once the flickering light of her magic goes out entirely, but she quickly re-ignites it and carries on.
> "See! I'm much better now!"
> Truth be told, you aren't sure she is.
> More focused, yes, but her magic still doesn't seem that much more stable - if at all.
> Not that you could bear to break her little heart by telling her that.
"Good job, Mocha."
> "T-Thank you, Master!"
> Turning, she leaps from the seat and scurries to your side with a strange limping gait brought on by her two still-stiff legs.
> Still Mocha manages to make it and rear up to throw her forelegs around you - almost.
> At the last second, one of her bad legs gives out and the little unicorn almost topples.
> Catching her, you quickly kneel to give her a better chance.
> "I-I'm sorry, Master. I d-didn't mean to-"
"Shush, you silly girl."
> Looking down into her eyes, you can only see hope, perhaps even devotion peering back up.
> Rubbing her cheek draws a little coo from the mare.
> Cadance was right.
> She was fixated on you.
"C'mon, Mocha. I'd like to talk for a bit; will anyone else be in your room?"
> "No, Master. Not right now."
> The room was shared with two other ponies, but true to her word neither were present right now.
> It was not exactly bare - you had afforded them basic carpeting, light fixtures while not exactly fancy suffused the room with a warm glow, and the beds were comfortable enough.
> A few carefully-kept possessions rested on the bedside tables:
> Little mementos of life.
> "Th-This bed is mine."
> Mocha Cream steadies herself and climbs with some difficulty up onto the mattress.
> A simple step formed of a few pieces of lumber had been placed beside the bed, but she pointedly does not make use of it.
> You decide to join her, seating yourself on the bed as well.
"Well. You said you're getting better? At working with your hooves and your magic?"
> "Uh-huh! I can focus a lot more now, and it doesn't take me as long as it used to. I can, um, get up the stairs without help now."
> She certainly was trying.
> And there's no doubt she was simply getting stronger and better at focusing.
> Her actual coordination, though...
"Are you still having trouble with some things?"
> "W-Well, um, sometimes I d-do still slip. If I'm not focused enough. And when I work for a long time my head can start hurting..."
"Is it hurting right now, Mocha?"
> "No, Master. I haven't been working for long enough yet."
> You could believe that; she was terrible at lying to you.
> But she still seemed to be blaming herself - 'if I wasn't focused enough', as if it were her fault the damage had been done.
"I'm sure you've been practicing plenty. There's no need to rush."
> "Yes! The, um, videos you have me learn from are actually really good for practicing. You know, the ones for w-when I'm supposed t-to g-give you a m-massage-"
"I know, Mocha Cream."
> Time to pull the discussion away from that.
> Perhaps a more personal angle would help.
> After all, your entire business was founded on the basis of playing to ponies' talents.
"Tell me, Mocha - what actually is your talent? I don't think you've ever talked about it."
> "O-Oh. Um."
> She looks back at her mark.
> Rather than the mug of some drink one might have expected with a name like hers, it was a swirl of cream that almost seemed fit to stand atop a steaming beverage:
> Shot through with the rich brown of chocolate and white of cream, the same as her mane.
> "W-Well, I got it when I was making a d-drink of mine for a pony who really needed it and I'm good with all kinds of chocolates, not just drinks. Though, um, there wasn't much time for me to learn before, um..."
> Before slavery had taken her.
> "B-But the way I'm good at it is, um, picking up ponies' - and people's - feelings, like having a good chocolate or cream can. My Mom always said that was really my talent, not just things that tasted good."
> And so she had been in a way.
> Mocha Cream had been there for you at your lowest moment and stuck through all the way back up.
> So had she also been there for the camp ponies, really.
> Perhaps seeing your hesitation, she adds on despite her cheeks flushing crimson as she proceeds:
> "Um. Master. If I c-can say... I, um, I think I'm r-ready now. T-To give you a m-massage, if you wanted it. I know you have been working hard, and I haven't been doing as much as I used to. If I could h-help pick you up..."
"About that, Mocha..."
"Alright, Mocha. We can do this, if you think you're ready."
> Her face lights up in an instantaneous rush of joy.
> Perhaps not the most advisable course of action for her eventually, but right now you couldn't just cut her off.
> It would crush her to feel she wasn't wanted.
> If she was... unprofessional about the massage, you would stop it then.
> "W-Where, Master?"
"Not here; somepony else might want to use this room."
> Plus, you weren't quite sure how they would react if they came in and saw Mocha Cream working on you.
"Not my bedroom-"
> Also might give her the wrong impression.
"-but actually, how about my study? I'll bring your table upstairs, just come up when you are ready."
> "Thank you, Master!"
> The table is not the heaviest thing in the world, but then you had not aimed for the highest-possible quality for this.
> After all, you hadn't known at the time if Mocha would be able to come through with this.
> But it was good enough, and easy to lug up two flights of stairs from the basement to your room.
> Unfolding it also proved easy enough; in addition to the table itself, there was also a smaller platform for her to stand on.
> But what to do about yourself?
> You'd been for a professional massage before, but presenting yourself to Mocha Cream in your underwear would definitely send the wrong message.
> Not even Cadance had seen you like that.
> But just showing up fully clothed would be sending the message that you did not trust her, which ran contrary to the point of this.
> In the end, you decide to take off your shirt and leave it at that; pants could stay on.
> Literally and metaphorically.
> Climbing up onto the table, you lay face-down - arms at your side and head in the cushioned loop - and wait.
> Mocha Cream is heard long before you see her:
> A product of the irregular beat of limping gait.
> But she still manages, carefully shutting the door behind her and climbing up onto the lowered platform to reach the massage table's side.
> As she crosses the room you can see that she is still flushing deeply and fiercely crimson.
> Once she passes out of view to the bed's side, it is instead her breath - coming shakily and nervously - that tips you off.
"Mocha? Are you sure you're ready for this?"
> "Yes, Master. I-I'm just... I can't - can't quite believe y-you're letting me do this, and-"
> A sharp intake of breath held to the count of four, and she blows it out.
> When Mocha Cream speaks again she is far more calm.
> "I'm so happy to be able to do this for you."
"Who taught you to calm yourself like that, Mocha?"
> "S-Sunburst, Master. When he was helping me with my magic. It helps me focus."
"Well if you're ready, why don't you begin."
> Begin she does.
> It's soft at first.
> Just her hooves tracing over your back.
> Feeling the rises and dips of muscle and bone the same way you had done so very often when stroking one of your ponies.
> Matching them to what she had learned from the videos.
> Eventually Mocha Cream feels comfortable enough to start pressing in - tracing the lines of stress.
> Her hooves are surprisingly soft; some of it you were certain resulted from working in the house rather than out in a field or workshop, but it can't all be attributed to that.
> Just another magical thing about these ponies.
> They were warm as well, and with some distinction you can even feel the difference between the outer wall and inner frog.
> "I-Is this okay, Master?"
"Yes, this is good."
> There's no lie in your words.
> Her lingering stiffness and injures do not seem to be inhibiting her that greatly; occasionally you could feel a little tremble or stiffness where a hoof would drag, but never too much.
> As she worked her motions were becoming more confident, less testing.
> "I-If it's not improper for me to say, Master - I know this is my first real time, but I think you seem very stiff and tense."
"I don't doubt it. Things have been very busy."
> "Then just relax. Please, Master. I want to do this right for you."
> She's right.
> You shouldn't be analyzing her performance.
> With a long and heavy sigh you stretch out on the table and let yourself relax.
> A few minutes later, you can conclude that this absolutely was the right decision.
> Mocha Cream may not be an expert, but she had studied well.
> Sometimes she uses the stiff edge of her hoof, to push or roll stress out of your muscles.
> Others, tilting her leg to give a gentler impression with the softer frog.
> Despite having to balance on her hind legs, the little mare was quite adept at using the right amount of pressure.
> Whenever you give a happy groan or sigh at a particularly pleasurable spot, Mocha echoes it with a soft nicker of her own.
> You are... profoundly lucky to have found this pony.
> How had you ignored her for so long?
> Shifting your breathing to a deeper, slower pace you allow yourself to sink into a sort of hazy fog of enjoyment.
> Up and down she works, loosening out muscles at the small of your back, digging her hooves in to work around your shoulderblades, and squeezing up and down your neck.
> So far into the trace-like state you fall that you almost miss Mocha Cream speaking to you:
> "...ything wrong, Master?"
"Huh? Wa'izzit?"
> "I just wanted to know if I'm doing anything wrong? You, um, haven't said anything yet..."
> Propping yourself up on one elbow, you turn and find Mocha looking at you with concerned eyes and fidgeting hooves.
"No, no. You're doing great. I'm getting so relaxed, that's why I haven't said anything."
> "Oh! Um."
> Mocha flushes hard - whether at your praise or the fact that she is seeing you shirtless you aren't sure.
> Laying back down you let her resume her work.
> Now, however, your mind is wandering again.
> What could you do for her?
> She needed more friends than you, that much was obvious.
> Rumble visited her as much as you would allow (and he could stand being in the house), but he was only one pony.
> Setting her up to work as a chocolatier was obvious, and you wouldn't mind the odd confection either.
> And Canele - your senior chef - wouldn't mind.
> Though God forbid your daughter finds out there was a ready source of sugar in the house.
> But what Mocha Cream had told you was still circulating in your head:
> A talent of not just sugar or coffee but whatever someone needed for a perk-up.
> What if...
"Mocha?"
> Your voice is a bit muffled coming around the head-rest, but her hearing makes up for it.
> "Yes, Master?"
"I've been thinking about other jobs that you could do... especially with your talent. Things to help other ponies too. And I've been thinking... you know how you were taking messages back up to the camp? Maybe you would like to do that... directly. Listen to ponies' issues. Try to help them."
> Given the way her hooves are pressed into you, it's easy to feel how they stop as she stiffens sharply at the thought of that.
> "M-Master..."
> That is... not a good shake in her voice.
> "Master, please, don't send me out there again."
"Mocha..."
> "I... I don't want t-to go, Master. P-Please don't order me; I want stay here with you."
> Fear.
> Sheer terror in her voice at the thought of being out among the camp ponies again.
> Not that you can blame her, but staying cooped up in here forever.
> Seeming to take your lack of an answer as a denial of her plea, Mocha whimpers.
> "You're good to me, M-Master. With y-you I feel... I'm safe. C-Cared for. You're fair to me."
"Yes, but you can't stay cooped up in here. I can provide guards, if that's what you want. But you need friends, like Rumble. Maybe you'll even find-"
> What was the term they used?
"-a special somepony. You'll never know if you just stay hiding away."
> "I want... Master, I know we're n-not the same. I know I'm y-your s-s-slave, and you're not m-my special s-somepony. But Master..."
> The table creaks and something warm, soft, and heavy settles across your back.
> She must have spread herself across your back.
> "...I want to be yours. Y-Your little pony. Entirely. In every way."
> With a hefty sigh you start to roll over onto the bed; Mocha squeaks and raises herself off you only to give another even more embarrassed squeak as you slip your arms back around her.
> Her coat is plush and velveteen, her body warm to your touch.
"Oh, Mocha Cream... you're doing plenty for me, can't you see that?"
> Instead of answering, she buries her face against your chest and nickers happily, leaving you to stroke her back as she lays sprawled across your midsection.
 
> By now you don't even have to go to the mansion to collect your daughter.
> When it is time for her flying lessons, Anonymous is always already there to drive her out into a nearby field for you to meet.
> And on Sundays - as today - Megan as well.
> She always came to watch Flurry Heart try to fly, and despite your daughter's continued firm refusal to do more than glide on frozen wings you were glad.
> To avoid coming would be admitting failure.
> You weren't ready to admit failure.
> The little car pulls up beside you and Megan hops out excitedly.
> "C'mon, Flurry! Your mom's here already!"
> After her comes a rather more dejected looking Flurry Heart.
> She looks briefly up at you, flutters her oversized wings a little bit, and sighs:
> "Do I have to?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I want to keep practicing with you."
> Now that you were seeing each other more often, the enthusiasm she'd previously held at simply being with you was no longer there.
> Neither was there any bitterness at this.
> Glancing up, you catch Anonymous' eyes as he steps from the car.
> He, on the other hand, you had... mildly avoided since coming back from the trip.
> Despite his attempt to explain himself, you couldn't help but feel a touch of tension had been re-awoken.
> The idea that you could 'come to terms' with slavery - absurd!
> Shaking your mind free of those thoughts, you refocus on the matters at hand.
> Tension or not Anonymous wanted Flurry Heart to fly as well.
> He would remember what you'd talked about, wouldn't he?
> Sure enough, Anonymous drops to one knee beside her and place a hand on her withers:
> "Now Flurry, I just want you to remember: I know this is scary, but I want you to try your absolute hardest to fly on your own. Okay?"
> "Uh-huh."
> "And I'm sure Megan wants you to try just as badly too."
> "I do!"
> "I'll try, Master. But when I'm up there I-"
> Hearing the uncertain waver in Flurry Heart's voice, you can't help but step over to nuzzle her.
> "Shh. Just try your hardest, okay?"
> "I will."
"Alright, Little Gem. Now, come right between my forelegs just like we did before..."
> Taking off with Flurry Heart tucked beneath your belly was by now something you were well familiar with.
> That alone would not be enough; you had to find some way to motivate her to want to fly.
> Hopefully Anonymous' and Megan's support would be that trick.
> But as you climb higher into the sky, you can also feel her once again locking up:
> Wings held out with a fierce rigidity that actually interferes with your own efforts to carry her into the air.
> Not enough to actually be a danger, but you certainly can feel it.
> And despite how many times you circle around with Flurry, whispering soft reassurances into her ear - the reason you'd carried her beneath you, rather than on your back - nothing seems to help.
> Terror has a complete and total hold on her.
> You'd be lying if you said you weren't a touch frustrated - not with your daughter of course.
> Not directly, anyhow.
> As you touch down - releasing Flurry to glide the last few feet, something she does with equal rigidity - you shoot a glance to Anonymous and subtly shake your head.
> He, too, seems to sink a bit.
> At least this you could still find common ground with him over.
> "...well, it was worth a try. We'll keep trying, Cadance. There's got to be something - Hmm?"
> Megan has snuck up just behind Anonymous, locking her arms around one leg.
> "Daaad, can I pleeease have a pony ride?"
> Despite your feelings a smile touches your face.
> Every time she'd come out, Megan had begged to be allowed to ride you.
> And every time-
> "No, sweetheart. It's not right, and I might not be safe either."
> "Daddy, pleeeease?"
> But this time...
> This time you need something to pick up yourself up as well.
"Master? I don't mind, really, and I believe it would be safe enough. Look-"
> Lighting your horn you lift Megan in a field of magic (earning a surprised squeak from her.
"-even if she slips off of me, I can catch her. And I think it would be a very nice thing for her."
> "Picking her, over me? It's treason, then."
> Looking between yourself and his floating daughter - who is giving him the biggest-possible 'foal eyes' she can - he sighs heavily.
> "...alright, you got me. Just... be careful, Cadance. Please."
> "YES! Yesyesyesyes! Yes!"
> Megan is already at your side even as you drop to your belly to let her climb on, dancing from foot to foot with a delighted expression on her face in a way that makes her golden curls of hair bounce wildly.
"Now, Megan - let me get my wings out, and now you can climb on. Scoot back just a little bit? Yes, just there - that's good."
> Her shifting weight was now perched in a more favorable place:
> Behind your wings, but still close enough that she could lean forward to wrap her arms around your neck.
"Ready, dear?"
> "Uh-huh. You are okay with this, right?"
> A touch of warmth blooms in your heart; how nice it was to be asked that!
"Yes, I am. You asked, and I offered. You aren't forcing me to do this, so it's okay."
> Again your horn ignites, pinning her to your back.
> You can feel her little legs tighten against your ribs and hands circle your neck.
> Not hard enough to choke, thankfully.
"Now just tell me if you want me to stop."
> With a single beat of you break free of the ground.
> Another, and you're climbing.
> Megan is a touch heavier than Flurry is, but you have an alicorn's strength and the weight is barely an imposition on you.
> At first she had clung fiercely to your neck with a shriek of surprise, but only for a moment.
> Fear vanishes from her voice in favor of joyous excitement.
> "Woohoooooooooo!"
> Rolling into a shallow turn you can spot several ponies watching you with various expressions of excitement.
> Despite that you feel a smile coming on.
> So what?
> This was good.
> Megan was not a cruel taskmaster, seeing you only as a beast of burden.
> She cared.
> "C'mon, Cadance! Faster!"
> ...and her enthusiasm is mildly infectious.
> Her challenge is taken; you tighten your magical grip and throw yourself into a more aggressive series of maneuvers.
> Though you cannot see, it is easy to imagine her golden curls whipping in the wind.
> Partway through, in a sharp turn, you spot Anonymous holding Flurry Heart in his arms, both of them staring up as well.
> A quick tuck of your wings lets you dive hard.
> Twenty feet above the ground they pop back out, the sudden stop sending a sharp jolt through your body.
> But hurtling over their heads with all the gained speed and Megan whooping happily in your ear is well-worth it.
> Beating your wings you climb back up again - and so are facing backwards when Anonymous lets out a sudden shout of surprise.
> Your first thought is that Megan had begun to slip free, but you can still feel her weight resting on the rise of your hindquarters and in your magic's grip.
> Turning back, you're just in time to see Flurry Heart finish climbing free of his arms, spread her broad wings, and shakily - but fiercely - start to climb into the air.
> For a moment you can't even believe it.
> What your eyes see cannot be denied, though, and a moment later Megan joins in with an equally happy yell:
> "Flurry! Flurry, you're flying!"
> Yes, she was.
> Eyes wide with fear and every beat almost seeming to send her into an uncontrollable spin.
> But flying.
> Pulling level to her, you rear back your head to nuzzle her cheek.
> "M-Mistress Megan! Momma! I'm doing it, I did it! I did it!"
"Yes, you did."
> For once, the tears on your cheeks are not of pain or grief or fury but elation, joy, and relief.
> Flurry Heart was flying again.
> Even Megan joins in, pulling a hand from your neck to reach out and wrap an arm around her leg.
> ...
> To fly does not mean for long, and soon you touch down again beside Anonymous.
> He looks furious at first, but as you touch down that mask of anger melts away to be replaced by one of happiness as well.
> "Cadance, I... I don't know. She jumped out of my arms before I even knew what was happening."
"I saw."
> Looking back at your weary but smiling daughter - now wrapped in a fresh hug by Megan - you sigh.
"I hadn't expected it. I don't even know why. This is good, though."
> Pulling her head free of the hug, Flurry Heart looks between the two of you:
> "I... don't know. I just - I saw Mistress Megan was happy. Flying. And I wanted - I wanted to be up there with her. Wasn't afraid of her going away, because she was already there."
> You know what?
> You can't be bothered to care about the reason.
> With fresh tears still spilling from your eyes you spread your wings to wrap both filly and girl in the tightest, warmest, hug you can.
> It doesn't matter why.
> What mattered was that your daughter was healing.
 
> Weeks pass.
> More and more often Flurry Heart accompanies you outside.
> Her fear now broken and left behind, she is only limited by the weakness of her wing muscles - atrophied from so long barely in use.
> With each day of exercise they grow stronger.
> Work... goes on.
> Spring turns to Summer, the long and hot days creeping up on you in a way that you could never quite get used to.
> Unscheduled labor
> New buildings rise, fresh roads are laid.
> Supplies are stockpiled.
> The morning of the ‘delivery’ finds you in your office; you cannot deny your nervousness, and maybe even a bit of procrastination.
> But the arrivals would wait for no pony.
> Hiding away would not make it any easier.
> Besides, you'd wanted to be a proper leader and fleeing like a terrified filly now would do no good.
> And so you force yourself to your hooves and out the door.
> Mayor Mare gives you a subtle nod from her desk as you pass it.
> "I'll be joining you in a moment, Your Highness. As soon as you bring them in to get them settled."
"Thank you, Mayor."
> Bowing your head in acknowledgement of her support, you again remind yourself how lucky you are to have her to support you.
> By the time you arrive at the front gate trucks have already arrived and are starting to be offloaded.
> Not too many, and you make it into the manor before any can spot you.
> Anonymous is just coming down the stairs when you arrive:
> "Ready, Cadance?"
"More than. Let's welcome them."
> At least he remembered his promise:
> There would be not tagging obediently at his heels this time.
> You walk at his side, head upright and a fearless expression on your face.
> Look proud, you remind yourself.
> Even if you are only welcoming ponies from one captivity into another.
> Put on a strong face and make them think that this is a better place.
> For many it might very well be.
> The new arrivals had been marshaled into neat lines and rows by the delivery staff, the odd lash displayed threateningly or cracked on the ground to get slower ponies hurried into position.
> They have that same look about them as the last lot did at first:
> Eyes low, tails drooping, shuffling in place as far as the chains that linked them neck-to-neck would allow.
> Of course, this time there were so many more - a small sea of ponies all now arranged in orderly rows.
> Despite the early hour summer heat was already rising.
> You can actually see the ripple that runs through the crowd as you approach:
> First their recognition at just who was approaching, and then at your proud march by Anonymous' side.
> Wonder and confusion fill their eyes:
> What did it mean, to have an alicorn - a princess - walking at her owner's side?
> "Cadance, did you want to talk to them first?"
"Later, when they're out of those chains. Can you see to them? I will deal with the delivery people."
> If Anonymous is offput by the suggestion, he doesn't show it.
> "Yeah, sure. If they give you any trouble call me over."
> Avoiding looking at the ponies is possibly one of the hardest things you have done, but time had given you a chance to think this over.
> Anonymous might have been wrong to humiliate you by forcing you to appear obedient before them, but he did have a point:
> Making it clear you weren't a savior come to whisk them away was... necessary.
> So you keep your head set forward as you march up to the delivery-men.
> A shallow bow sets the tone before you even open your mouth:
"Good morning, Sirs. I will be taking delivery today."
> The handlers' eyebrows rise despite your tone being as non-confrontational as possible.
> As if seeking a countermanding opinion, they glance back to Anonymous.
> But he is already moving among the ranks of new arrivals with a bucket of water and cup, offering much-appreciated drinks to those who need them.
"...my Master has trusted me with this duty, I assure you."
> "Alright, fair enough."
> Grumbling, the apparent boss pulls out his tablet to let you sign it.
> A quick flash of your horn whirls the stylus across it surface.
> "Feels funny giving all of them back to one o'you-"
> There's no doubt in your mind he means an alicorn, not just a pony.
> "-but I guess he's got you well-kept. They're yours."
"Thank you, I-"
> You're caught by surprise as he wordlessly hands you a folded note.
> What could this be about...?
> Some intuition tells you not to read it now; instead the paper is tucked beneath a wing as they depart and you turn back to the crowd.
> All eyes quickly come to firmly rest on you; awe and confusion appear in equal measure.
> They stay there as the delivery men move quickly among the ranks, opening collars and pulling chains from the rows.
> This, you thought, was the most perilous moment:
> When you would have to show them the narrow balance you walked.
> So while you walk among the crowd, offering gentle words of support where it was needed, Anonymous is the first to speak.
> "Hello. I'm, uh, not terrific at speeches so I'll skip right to the point: I am Anonymous. I own this place, and as of now I own you."
> He pauses to let that settle in, and a few ponies drop into expectant bows.
> But continues in a softer voice:
> "I'm not going to hurt you. Not going to whip you or beat you just because I can. This isn't that kind of place. It's not a prison, not a death camp. This is a home. It's a place you will live. You work for me, but I'll do my damn best to look after you too. Cadance?"
> Your turn.
> Setting the jug down, you trot out from amid the row and circle around the crowd at a fast trot to his side.
> This time you are close enough to hear the murmurs of surprise.
"Follow us across the camp to the new living quarters. Ponies will be waiting there to assign you places to stay; there is food and beds to rest in once you are there. I will not pretend life is always easy here, but it is as he said a home. I ask - please - if you have questions, ask them. Let me - let us - know."
> Then you turn your back and start to walk.
> The first few among them move hesitantly.
> Uncertainly.
> But they do move, ranks and rows slowly breaking down until what follows you is a jumbled herd of ponies simply following one they have recognized as a leader.
> Guards walk alongside on two and four legs but they are not needed.
> The urge of the herd keeps them together, sticking with a safe-seeming face amid an island of unfamiliarity.
> As you had said, a row of tables had been set up to sort ponies by their name; at each, a pony you trusted was directing them to their new living quarters.
> Mayor Mare gives you a warm nod as you pass by her seat.
> At another, Sunburst waves nervously.
> It was a measure of Anonymous' trust of the former rebel that he was allowed to be part of this.
"Everypony, the next few hours are yours while we get your rooms and allow you to settle in. Eat. Rest. Meet your neighbors; some of them have been here a while and will be happy to talk to you. Tonight we will all eat together, and tomorrow duty assignments will begin to come out."
> With that done you start to simply walk among the crowd - putting them at ease as best you can.
> Some ponies still stare at you with misty expressions.
> Overwhelmed by the existence of one they had thought lost.
> As had happened before, there are breathy and soft whispers of 'Your Highness' as you pass.
> To those, you neither lecture nor reward - not with Anonymous so nearby.
> Though he is busy, you are gratified to see, also meandering through the crowd speaking to ponies.
> Most are still eyeing him with a healthy degree of trepidation, but a handful have already started to be more open with him.
> Good.
> You will always be their leader, but for him to become - more than just a distant, looming threat would be good as well.
> In an odd way, they were perhaps the ones he had the best chance with.
> New, their views untainted by the past.
> Is that taking advantage of their naivete, their relief to be in a place even remotely better than whatever Tartarus-like dungeon they had come from?
> Anonymous was no agent of Harmony, after all.
> No, they would learn in due time - and it would be good for them to see all sides of him.
> Not to mention-
> "Your highness!"
> That was a touch louder than you would have preferred.
> Soft-spoken addresses or in private were one thing; Anonymous surely knew they happened
> But aloud, and in public...
"Please. I am - not high. Not anymore. No-"
> You turn, and your breath catches.
> No wonder they had sounded so reverent.
> Two ponies stand tall and proud before you, their coats gleaming in the morning sun.
> More than their coats, even - their whole bodies shine with a fierce luster.
> Crystal ponies.
> Your ponies.
> Your subjects.
> One a Crystal unicorn at that - a fantastically rare thing, after the ravages of Sombra's reign.
> Without a word you raise both your wings and they rush into them nuzzling against your neck with soft nickers of relief.
"I'm so glad you're - I thought - after everything came apart - I didn't know if I would see any of you again."
> You actually can't say you knew either of these ponies well.
> Maybe the other one, but not the unicorn.
> Even so, you can't help but feeling some degree of responsibility for them.
> A gasp from one of the crystal ponies brings you back to the moment.
> "Your back! He-"
> Ah.
> They'd spotted the scars, from your flogging.
"Remnants of a mistake. From a while back; he doesn't use whips except for major problems."
> "I... but you..."
"Am a pony here, just like you. I am not immune to anything."
> Releasing both, you take a step back and place a warm smile on your face.
> Have to show them you weren't just speaking from a script.
"Really. May I ask your names?"
> The first, a black coat with lustrous green mane, bows her head:
> "Tourmaline Twist, Your Highness."
> On your other side, the unicorn...
> He watches you with a rather more questioning perspective.
> "Lattice. I'm Lattice."
"Is something wrong?"
> "No, no - I just - I can't believe it's you. Here."
"Ah. Well. This... is not freedom. This is not what we had. But it could be - was - far worse, and I am thankful for that."
> "Is it true that he lets you speak your mind?"
"Yes. Well - within reason. Do not be foolish about it, and he gives us great lattitude. There are a couple of ponies here who help with that. You will meet them in time."
> Pausing, you add more softly:
"Have you seen any more of - your kind?"
> Head shakes from both.
> "We weren't many to begin with, and spread out so far now... a few, here and there. So few."
"Well. This place, I hope, will only grow. Maybe, in time, we can find a few more."
> "Ah... Your Highness? You dropped something."
> Oh!
> Lattice passes you the little folded note in his magic.
> It must've fallen from beneath your wing when you spread them to greet the two.
"Thank you, Lattice. I would've hated to lose that."
> "You're welcome, Your Highness."
> That's odd.
> He seemed - nervous?
> ...
> Later, alone in your office, you cut the tape that had been carefully use to seal the folded paper.
> Your eyes scan over the paper, progressively growing mistier as the news written in it.
> 'Cadance -
> I have stretched the limits of what I can search without involving Stedler to their limits. I can find little on Twilight Sparkle that I did not tell you before; she has been transferred out of my sight through any number of front-businesses and corporate interests. Some of them were not even official sales, but as part of the purchase of entire companies that held her as an asset. I am sorry. I tried what I could.
> - Scriptorial'
> So that was it.
> Your sister in law - missing.
> Gone.
> Any hope of seeing more of your family seems to sink ever-further away.
> Or...
> Unless you involved Anonymous.
> Or one of Sunburst's alleged resistance-movement contacts.
> Could you dare entrust this with them?
> Was it even right to spend time and resources on this?
> To have Twilight with you... it would be a beautiful thing.
> But many more ponies needed your help as well.
> Wouldn't it be wrong to focus on her over everypony else who could be brought?
> After all, there was no guarantee any of them could even help if you did mention it.
[Choice]
> No, you can't let them be weighted by this.
> Twilight...
> You miss her so very, very much.
> Every fiber of your body aches to have her back by your side, to support her through this as well.
> After all, in the loss of your husband she had also experienced the loss of a brother.
> But, what could Sunburst's contacts do?
> Even if they could find her, liberating her was something they would surely already want to do in the first place.
> And Anonymous...
> He would only see her - not entirely wrongly - as another level of control over you.
> If he could even control her in the first place; most of what you had heard was clear:
> Twilight was fiercely rebellious.
> It occurs to you that if she refused to obey, it could ironically undermine this safe(r) haven you have managed to establish here.
> A second later you feel sickened by thinking of her in that way - your little Twily, a threat!
> But it is what it is.
> No, Twilight is a tough mare - solid and reliable in her own way.
> Despite whatever horrors they were inflicting on her you could not do anything for her through either channel now.
> For now, you had a camp to run as best you could.
> One excellent thing that had come with the expansion was a new and improved dining hall.
> No longer would you have to do with the original facilities, which while adequate had never been intended for this many ponies.
> A greatly enlarged hall had been added to the new section of the camp, and it is in this that you find yourself eating with a mix of new and familiar faces that night.
> It wasn't quite homey yet - the paint had only just had a chance to dry, and the building held a very much typical squared-off, boxed-in human aesthetic rather than any nods to Equestrian architecture.
> In time, though, that would change.
> What better place to have them begin making the camp their own than the place they ate?
> Slipping between the tables, you find a seat for yourself.
> Immediately conversation dulls and all eyes turn to you, but you quickly manage to break the moment with a gentle smile before the awkwardness becomes overwhelming.
> With careful prodding and the right words you can nudge the conversation back to life.
> "Misstr- um, Miss Cadance?"
"Yes, dear?"
> "Is it true there's a -"
> The pony in question - a pegasus of light-blue coat and a white-and-blue mane like clouds against the dawn sky and a pattern of stars on her flank - shuffles nervously.
> "-a place here where we can bring things from - home? And they'll be safe?"
"The museum, yes. It is real, and you can ask anypony who's been here a while and they can show you the way there."
> "And... he won't take them away?"
"I think Anonymous understands how very angry everypony would be if he did that... myself included."
> The indirect nature of your answer does not go unnoticed, and the mare gives you an uncertain look.
> Guessing the nature of her inquiry isn't hard.
"If you have something you want to be shown, you don't have to tell us now. Let it be for a while, and when you feel ready you can bring it there."
> "Really?"
> Her expression brightens immediately, and you quickly nod an affirmative.
"Absolutely. I won't force you to give anything up immediately. Find a mare named Cheerilee when you are ready; she can help you."
> "What are we going to be doing tomorrow?"
> Another voice pipes up, this one from an older stallion across the way.
> "The work we're going to be given... is that all we're going to be doing?"
"Not at all. We know your general talents, but somepony will have a sit-down with each of you over the next few days and get to know you a bit better - so you're doing something you're skilled at."
> "O-Oh. I was afraid he was going to put us all on turning over those fields outside or something like that..."
"No, no! Nothing like that."
> A tentative hoof taps at your side, and you turn back to find the mare who'd ask the first question looking up awkwardly again:
> "Miss Cadance? Is it, um - is it true that your daughter is here too?"
"Flurry Heart is here, yes. Anonymous has taken her to be his daughter's assistant, although I still have time with her."
> "Really?"
"Yes. You may see her out with me at times."
> "And your husband?"
> The question should have been been expected, but it still manages to strike directly to your heart.
> Nor can you stop the shudder that runs through your body.
> "O-Oh..."
"I have heard... nothing. Not rumor of his freedom, not been able to find record of his being sold, not anything. He is, as best I know... gone."
> "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It is fine, dear. I know you didn't want to hurt."
> Extending a wing, you touch it to the pegasus' back - and when she does not draw away, pull her into a gentle embrace.
"We have all lost so much to all of this, I am hardly the only one. Though..."
> You glance about.
> It wasn't according to the plan; sometimes, though, the moment came before the plan.
"I was going to announce this later, but I see no reason not to now. In the coming weeks, a way will be provided for you to search for your own families. If you find them - and have not been in trouble - a reunion may be possible."
> "Really?!"
> "You'll actually try?"
> "What, like bringing them here?"
"Yes. We are still planning this out, but this is something we all want to have."
> Looking about, you add:
"Make no mistake: We are still slaves here, with all that means. But that does not mean we cannot try to make something of it."
> As conversation rises again, you look around - heart rising at the newly-hopeful looks on so many faces.
> In time, you knew, you would have to break those hopes.
> Family unfound, or that could not be recovered.
> But hope was still a beautiful, winged thing.
> Able to lighten hearts and raise moods.
> Was it false hope, to tell them that?
> You didn't think so.
> Looking up and around, you pause as a familiar face in the distance meets your eyes.
> Lattice, paused halfway between the food-line and a table with a loaded tray hovering beside him, stares at you with cautious eyes.
> Your gazes remain locked until a pony coincidentally passes between; by the time they have moved on, Lattice has already vanished.
 
> You still can't quite get over the sheer number of new faces in the camp.
> Sure, you had been there when other ponies had come in before.
> This was a few times more than that, though:
> And while those ponies had mostly filled in... vacancies left by the original escape, these new ponies were being given all-new positions.
"I don't know, Seismic. You really think there'll be trouble?"
> "This many new ponies? It's bound to crop up, Thunderlane."
"Yeah, but look at them. They're - stunned. A work camp without whips and guard towers and dogs nipping at their hocks? They're still trying to figure it out."
> "That's exactly why there'll be trouble. Somepony's going to try and push things."
"If you say so, Seismic. Maybe I'm just more optimistic. Maybe you need to be more optimistic."
> "Hah!"
> Pausing, the bulky stallion raises a hind leg to kick at the uniform where it hung over his withers.
> You didn't blame him; the stiffened plastic liners that were meant to protect you turned out to itch something fierce in the summer heat.
> At least you had wings you could shift it with.
"Okay, maybe there'll be some kind of minor spats here and there. But I'm talking real trouble like before. I don't think it'll happen."
> Dropping his leg, Seismic Shift resumes walking at your side.
> This time, your patrol route takes you past the town hall.
> A few of the new ponies stand in a line outside; within, you knew, Cadance was speaking to each and every one to get a better grasp of their talents.
> Others were holding their own 'interviews' in other places but she had chosen to try and get ponies into her office.
> As she'd put it in the planning meeting, to show them it wasn't the impenetrable redoubt of a distant overseer.
> A broad variety of expressions are on their faces as you and Seismic pass by.
> Curiosity.
> Fear.
> Anger.
> Wonder.
> None act on it, even when you shoot what you hope is a warm smile to them.
> "You worried about them, Thunderlane?"
"No. Not really. Just want to make sure they understand we're here for them."
> "What about him - down the street there, with the reddish mane."
> The stallion in question sat perhaps half a block down.
> He was unremarkable, except for his attention being locked so tightly.
> A mess of russet hair fell from in a wild spill down to part around his neck and horn, but he sat with an almost stock-still posture facing the side of the town hall.
> Staring fiercely, fixedly at the windows to Cadance's office.
"Yeah, what about him?"
> "He's been sitting like that since the last time we came around."
"Has he?"
> You frown; in all honesty, you had been more keeping a wary eye on the ponies who seemed more likely to act.
"Well, we can't very well start questioning him just for looking in a specific different direction."
> "No. But something about him is tickling my tail."
> That gives you pause; Seismic wasn't always the best at guessing others' intentions, but he was no fool either.
"Well, I'll keep an eye on him. And-"
> A deep, distant throbbing noise rises - pulsing like a club beat found only in the grungiest clubs or a foghorn gone berserk before it just as abruptly cuts off.
> Even at this distance a wave of mild vertigo strikes you as the sonic assault hits your ears.
"Tartarus' teats!"
> "What is that?!"
> A nearby pony similarly affected extends a wing to brace herself as she staggers; more distant cries and whinnies of surprise are also heard.
"Pegasus detector. Somepony just tried to jump the fence."
> "You going to be okay, Thunderlane?"
> Without the far-more-delicate sense of balance that pegasi had, Seismic Shift was practically unaffected.
"Yeah. C'mon, let's go deal with it. That was pretty close."
> “I told you somepony was going to try something!”
> By the time you get there, the situation was practically dealt with already.
> Two guards were hustling the limp pony away from where they had touched down; they were completely non-resistant and even limp in the guards' arms.
> You didn't blame him; catching a full-on blast from one of the detectors would be a truly nauseating experience.
> Sure enough, as you near the fence you catch the sour scent of vomit.
> "Thunderlane!"
> From beside the waiting cart, Gene waves.
"Sir. Any problems?"
> "Not really. The detectors brought him down, but it was soft - he glided on reflex."
> At least they weren't hurt.
> Not that having an escape - and the fallout from what Cadance would inevitably have to do over it - would be good this early on.
> "Hey, Thunderlane."
> Seismic nudges your side, then points with an ear.
> "Over there. It's him again."
> Sure enough, the russet-maned unicorn-stallion had turned up - watching cautiously from a distance.
"Yeah, I see him. Alright, let's over and have a talk."
> His attention is all on the pony being bundled away, though, and he doesn't notice your approach until Seismic speaks up:
> "Hey. 'Morning."
> "...good morning."
> Being addressed seems to finally snaps him out of it.
> He jumps, then turns to look at you and jumps again and when he sees who is speaking to him.
"Easy. You're not in trouble; we were just wondering what's up."
> "I, uh..."
> As if the windows had a gravitational pull on his expression, he looks back towards where the guards' cart was now pulling away.
> "...sorry. Just... watching."
"We saw. You were waiting back by the town hall too. Seemed pretty focused then."
> "Yeah. I just can't believe it's really her. P- uh, Cadance. An alicorn. Cadance."
> "She is definitely something special."
> Seismic's low rumble is answered with another wondering nod.
> "Yeah, an alicorn... I just... I can't believe it."
> Another moment, and he finally wrenches his gaze away.
> "I'm sorry. I'm Copper Dust. Am I not supposed to be here?"
"Thunderlane; that's Seismic Shift. And no, you're allowed. Might want to get back if you were waiting to have a talk with Cadance though."
> "Already had it, actually. With somepony else, but I'm not due back on duty for a little while. So I went over to see her."
> ...huh.
"Well, you're certainly allowed to sit where you want."
> "I was actually..."
> Copper Dust scuffs at the dirt.
> "...just hoping to see - her again. If it was really Princess Cada-"
> Eyes go wide and he looks to you with an expression full of fear, belatedly realizing what he had said.
"It's fine. Her highness-"
> Somehow he actually manages to look more shocked at the title.
"-is fine with us speaking about her like that. Just don't do it in front of some of the other guards, or Anonymous. Especially Anonymous."
> "Ah..."
> Looking back in the direction the cart had vanished, he adds more softly:
> "What will happen to him? Some ponies are saying she fights Anonymous for us - to keep us from breaking. But I also heard she had ponies whipped..."
[Choice]
"To him, specifically? I can't imagine it will be truly tormenting. At the very worst he could take some lashes for this, but I honestly don't think it will be that bad. Extra work hours for a time, or hobbles maybe."
> "But - she would -"
"If she has to, yes."
> There's a sharp intake of breath from Copper Dust, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he is hearing.
> You shake your head before he can get the wrong idea.
"Look, Anonymous was stretching the truth when he told you this isn't a prison. It is - maybe a softer prison, but still a prison for slaves."
> "And she - helps him?"
"Cadance... she does what she has to. To make things better; even compared to just a year ago, this place is so much better. Anonymous wasn't lying when he said this isn't a death camp, but Cadance has fought tooth and hoof to make it better."
> "By taking up a whip against you?!"
"When. She. Has. To."
> Each word is enunciated firmly, clearly.
> Just to make sure your point is made.
"For things that cause bigger problems, she will deliver lashes. Has, in the past. To me, for that matter. But-"
> "To you? She whipped you?"
"Yes."
> Shifting your wings carefully, you lift your uniform up and let Copper Dust peer beneath to see where your back had been permanently marked by it.
> He shudders at the sight of them, which you can understand - this stallion has plenty of his own scars attesting to his own rough treatment.
"But she's also fought for us. The only ponies who've faced the whip are the ones who'd put everypony else in danger, and Cadance gives every pony every chance to lighten their sentence if she can."
> "She's - a collaborator."
"Only because she has to be!"
> "Cadance makes it exactly clear how much she hates all of this. Speaks against slavery to us. You think any other Master would let her do that?"
> Seismic's rumble draws a nod from you.
"We're her priority - making the best for us. Anonymous' profit isn't."
> "I want to believe you. I do. But seeing that..."
> He motions with his horn towards your back.
"Just wait. She's behind us, and that's why we stand beside her. Not for Anonymous. For her."
> Fortunately, that is the last of the 'interesting' things to be happening that day.
> The remainder is boring - if extended, with the new arrivals still adding to some confusion.
> At the end of things your hooves are sore and wings only mildly less so; exhaustion has managed to set itself deep into your muscles.
> You barely manage to reach your living quarters before collapsing.
> Anonymous had gifted you one of the newly-constructed ones, and you have to admit it was a definite improvement over your previous habitation.
> For one-
"Hey there, Vapor."
> "Thunderlane!"
> -your marefriend could stay with you in this one.
> She rises from the bed, closing the distance to you with stiff steps to deliver a soft kiss on your cheek.
> No doubt her hooves ached as much as yours did:
> Well and truly swollen with foal, Vapor Trail's belly had grown to be more than a mere inconvenience.
> Even so, you can see the concern in her expression and affection even before she speaks:
> "I heard the detectors go off. What happened?"
"Somepony leapt the fence. Got taken down not more than twenty feet out... not hurt, thank Celestia."
> "Do you know what's going to happen-"
"No. But I don't think Cadance is going to be hard on him, though - it was one of the new arrivals."
> "Ah."
> Turning her around with a wing on her withers, you join Vapor Trail in stumbling back towards the room's bed.
"What about you? You were helping them all settle in, right?"
> "Yes. Doing directions and oversight, since I can't really work as much right now... though I ended up walking them around a lot to show them the right places."
"Vapor! You're supposed to be resting."
> You frown a touch at her incorrigible helpfulness, but can't hold it up for long.
> Not when she is giving you such a needful expression.
> "...they needed it, Thunderlane! So many don't even know where they're going yet, or what's allowed here!"
"Fine, fine. I concede."
> Both of you issue equally relieved groans while climbing up onto the bed and collapsing into it, back to back.
> After a moment, a simultaneous wave of giggles breaks out as well.
> This was why you loved this mare; she could brighten any day of yours no matter how dark.
> "It's a pity. We have this really nice older stallion down in the kitchen now."
"My marefriend, looking at other stallions? Unbelievable!"
> Despite her exhaustion, Vapor manages to find the strength to extend a wing and bat you over the head with a laugh.
> "He's very nice. But scared he won't be able to work well enough, so he actually found out where he'd be assigned to and came down to work yesterday even though he hadn't been officially started yet."
"Of what? Being thrown out?"
> "Yeah. He's not a very good cook either - apparently his talent is for metalworking."
"Well, I'm sure with a talent like that something useful will be found for him."
> Rolling over in the bed, you slip your hooves around Vapor Trail and pull her close.
> As if in response, the foal kicks back against your touch and Vapor gives a little surprised squeak.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
> "It's fine. That was just... stronger than normal."
"Mmmm."
> Resting your head back against her neck, you sigh softly through your nostrils.
> Again the foal in her belly shifts as if responding, though more gently this time.
"Soon?"
> "Very."
"I'll be there for you when it happens."
> Silence reigns for a few moments longer, then:
> "Apparently Cadance is going to let ponies look for their families... try to bring them here."
"Yeah."
> Another pause, while the obvious question hangs in the air.
> You're no colt; you face the question:
"Do you want to try and find..."
> "Would you be angry if I did?"
"I... don't think so. No, I would understand if you wanted to."
> "I don't. Want to find them, I mean. Not now."
> She doesn't elaborate further, and you decide not to push it.
> After all, this was her choice.
> With all she's supported you through, simply accepting her choice now would be the least you could do in return.
"Nothing?"
> Your eyebrows rise, but Cadance holds her ground.
> "Nothing severe. I will not be subjecting him to any physical punishment. No shackling in at night, no whipping, nothing."
> A lessened punishment was something you'd expected, but to eliminate it entirely...
"Reasoning?"
> "He's terrified. Thought you were just trying to get everypony to lower their guard, then you would strike and crush everyone."
"...didn't he speak to anyone else? Like, at all?"
> "Certainly. But fear is a terrible thing, Anonymous. It blinds you. The way he just leaped the fence? Any rational pony could have seen there must be a way to stop it, but he did it anyway. That's not a planned escape, that's fear."
> Pondering, you start walking from where you'd paused out of surprise.
> Cadance continues beside you, with passing ponies giving the two of you a respectful berth in the street.
"A fair point, I suppose."
> Her expression suggests she hadn't expected you to give up nearly that easily.
"Don't look so surprised, Cadance!"
> "After how you reacted to the last escape..."
"From ponies who knew I am not a monster, and who put my future at serious risk. One pony acting out of terror, not hurting me or anyone else... I can forgive that."
> "Good..."
> Dropping her voice to a note only audible to you, Cadance adds:
> "I've already flogged a terrified pony once, and I wouldn't do it again. Extra work hours - I can find something for him to do. Maybe even something that will show this isn't the nightmare he was imagining."
"That's fine. Just, when you let him know - make sure he knows I am fine with it too."
> "You don't want to tell him yourself?"
"Given what he how scared you say he is, I think we'll work up to that point."
> Turning a corner in your walk, you find you'd come to the edge of the camp near your manor.
> Time to go your separate ways.
> Almost a touch saddening; it was a pleasant summer evening and wasting it indoors seemed a pity.
"...no problems with the interviews today, though?"
> "No. And from what everypony else is telling me, theirs were the same. We should be able to begin organizing proper work schedules within the week; I'll send needed equipment lists up to you when we figure out what we're short on."
"Good. It's going to work, like we decided on? Find our skilled kernel to build the rest of the workforce around?"
> "Yes. Most of what we guessed from their on-market profiles was accurate, but with tweaking things around now there will be some minor shifts."
"I remember, Cadance. I've done this before too."
> "Yes."
> The alicorn sighs gently, swishing her tail and looking back towards the camp.
> "I'm sorry. I just want to make sure we're getting this right."
"I understand."
> Despite being in the open, you reach down to rest a hand on Cadance's withers.
> Her outburst during the trip out hadn't been forgotten.
"Hey. Look, nothing bad's happened yet, has it?"
> "No. And your idea of walking out together did work."
"So I think you'll be fine."
> "Maybe... actually, one other thing about the new arrivals?"
"Hmm?"
> "In particular, the two Crystal Ponies in the camp. I hadn't expected them, or I would have told you more about them. They are both talented crystal-workers - Tourmaline Twist with growing and fitting, according to the one who interviewed her. Lattice says he has more experience growing."
"You're thinking about a new direction for them?"
> "Your gem trade is still experiencing the fallout of... the imbalance created by our own. But I suspect that it is still a lucrative business, yes?"
> Now you begin to understand where she is thinking of taking this, and your eyes widen.
"They can - what? Fit them, set them?"
> "More... modify, even grow them. You cannot imagine what it was like to see the Crystal Empire rise from the ground itself."
> Breath catches in your throat.
"They - what?! I always thought it was grown over like, years-"
> Blinking, Cadance shakes her head.
> "No. But neither can they do it here... not on that scale. Not with so few, and not here."
> Spotting your raised eyebrow, she adds:
> "Their magic is strengthened when they are joyful. In slavery... I know you try to be better to us than other places, but it is still slavery. I don't know if they will ever regain their full power."
> Something about this seems to line of discussion seems to put her on edge.
> If she isn't sharing, though, you won't push.
> You doubt she's outright lying; the benefits if they could do so are too obvious.
"But they could work on a smaller scale still."
> "If what they have told me is true, yes. Adjust gems that they do have, perhaps fix flaws in them, yes. Build a city, no."
"Why haven't I heard of someone else taking advantage of this?"
> Cadance shrugs sighing:
> "There might be some but they are just staying silent to preserve their secret. Or not; how many care to cater to their slaves' talents and give them the tools and subordinates they'd need? How many slaves would admit that skill to their owners?"
"We'd have to completely reorganize our plans... but you are right. Gem-working could be incredibly lucrative. Put them at the core of it, establish an entirely new workshop..."
[Choice]
"For now, I'll authorize provisionally pulling them off their assigned work details and giving them a limited space to work in - to show me what they're capable of. How much they can do... here."
> "That sounds reasonable, yes."
> If Cadance picks up on how skeptical you sound of the whole 'work better when they're joyful' thing, she isn't saying.
> Then again, it sounds like you might have some researching to do as well.
> You'd known the Crystal Empire had been grown in place by some arcane means, but that it was raised that short a time?
> And the same could be done to precious gems?
> By and large you trusted Cadance to tell you the truth, yet you can't help but wonder if she is stretching it this time.
"I'll want to speak to them at some point. Also... I think I'll make an announcement tomorrow morning, about this whole escape. Explain myself. Why I'm letting him off, so he can hear it straight from me too. Have him out of his cell tomorrow morning, and in the new dining hall?"
> The smallest touch of a smile graces her lips.
> "Yes. I think I can do that."
> When you raise an eyebrow questioningly, she adds:
> "I'm glad to see you trying to fix things yourself."
"...I just don't want to make him panic even more if he sees me marching into his cell."
> "Well. Tomorrow morning, then."
> While her day may be mostly over, there is still one thing you have left to do.
> Sunburst is waiting when you arrive, pen dancing in an open notebook.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I had some last-minute discussions with Cadance."
> "Not a problem, Master."
> Sinking into one of your favorite chairs, you lean back and let your eyes close with a relieved sigh.
> "Is... this a bad time, Master? I know there was-"
"No, it's fine. There's no problems anymore; we talked it over. So, where do we stand?"
> Looking back down at his notebook, Sunburst quickly dives in:
> "Flurry Heart is progressing quite well in her magic lessons. She is.. a touch behind when it comes to fine control, but this is to be expected given her situation. Her strength... she is an alicorn. If anything, I am having to teach her to moderate herself."
"No more broken glasses from your exercises?"
> Sunburst winces and pushes his glasses back up.
> "...no, though only because I have switched to those big red plastic cups."
> That draws a chuckle from you.
"Alright, go on?"
> "I expect she will catch up in time. In fact, in magic alone she may prove to be a very capable wielder."
> Tapping the arm of your chair thoughtfully, you nod.
"What about a leader, though?"
> "From what I have seen, Flurry Heart is integrating herself into the camp's other colts and fillies. No problems so far, although it's all been under Cadance's watchful eye."
"In that case, I'm sure she would have told me if there'd been any issues. Actually, one thing she did mention... you lived in the Crystal Empire, yes?"
> "Yes, why?"
"How was it - built? The buildings?"
> "The crystal ponies..."
> He pauses, eyes growing distant and hoof coming up to stroke his tuft of beard.
> "...they called it Forming. Creating the crystal, drawing it up out of the ground itself or changing it. I only partially understood it."
"And it was - fast?"
> "Very. Well, compared to other crystal growing. Are you - thinking about the two who came here...?"
"Cadance says they might be able to grow gems. I don't want a whole building, mind you, but even tiny pieces..." 
> "Yes, and I-Iaaaaaahhhhh-"
> A terrific yawn cuts off Sunburst's declaration.
> Cheeks flushing, he adjusts his glasses back to their proper place.
> "-I'm sorry, Master."
"Tired, Sunburst?"
> The flush deepens.
> "Very. I've been putting in extra hours, to make sure all the new talents and skills fit in well and what we might have to teach them."
> Well, that wouldn't do at all.
> Sunburst was one of your prize ponies, now that Cadance had him back in line.
> Having him work himself into sloppiness, let alone ill health, would hardly be right.
"Then you're dismissed for the evening. Go get some food and them some rest; we don't have to rush things."
> "Thank you, Master."
> Gathering up his books, Sunburst turns nearly reaches the door when you speak up again:
"Wait! One other thing, Sunburst. Mocha Cream... how is she proceeding."
> Sunburst's long hesitation says enough.
"...I see. Thank you, Sunburst; that will be all. Good evening."
> Once the stallion is gone, you lean back in your seat - fiercely rubbing your eyes.
> He wasn't the only one exhausted; you'd been putting in many long hours as well.
> Maybe you'd best take your own advice, and...
> ...no.
> Still too many things to do.
> Tracking down Mocha Cream doesn't take too long.
> She can always be found in one of a few handful of locations, and tonight is now different.
> Your feet are soft on the carpeted floor, and the little mare doesn't hear a thing as you stand in the doorway watching her.
> She was calmly puttering around the room, setting things out for both when you go to sleep that night and wake up the next day.
> Though her walk is still a limp - one that may never go away - Mocha is far stronger now and both her casts have come off.
> Physically, at least.
> As you watch her work, it's abundantly clear her magic is... mediocre at best.
"Mocha."
> "Eep!"
> The squeak only lasts an instant before she's into a bow and facing you.
> If nothing else, she wasn't nearly as jumpy as she used to be.
> "Hello, Master."
> Pushing off the wall, you wander close enough to reach down and scratch around her ears.
> Wordlessly, Mocha leans her head back - first exposing her cheek, then her chin to your attention.
"You're working harder again."
> "It's my job, Master."
"And I told you that you don't have to overstress yourself for my sake. I thought I suggested that you go see if any of the other house ponies needed some looking-after or help?"
> "They're fine, Master. I just... get under their hooves."
> That brings a touch of a frown to your lips.
"You know, there are plenty of other ponies out there who could use your help."
> Even with just your fingers brushing her cheek, you can feel how Mocha Cream tenses.
> "M-Master, please... I'm happy in here working for you. Out there... if I go out there again-"
"No one is going to hurt you, Mocha. I'll see to that, I promise."
> Still nothing.
> Sighing softly, you bring yourself down to one knee and look into her eyes.
"Flurry Heart, and even Megan go into the camp from time to time and they're fine. Cadance takes care of them. And Rumble sometimes comes up here, even though he doesn't like me."
> The colt had been coming in to visit Mocha Cream in his (limited) spare time, and so long as he kept his mouth shut and didn't get in any other trouble you were inclined to continue letting him.
> "I-I know, Master. I just... please."
> Damn the expression she is giving you.
> This isn't one you can so easily resist.
"Mocha..."
> Seating yourself on the floor, you hold out a hand to her.
> Leaning in, she nuzzles your shoulder - making little happy noises in her throat.
"You can't stay cooped up in here forever. That's not a life. There are ponies out there who could use your help - your talent."
> "But - who would do everything for you? I can't just - abandon you!"
> You don't have the heart to remind her she wasn't doing nearly as much for you as she used to.
"That's true, but I would figure out a way to manage."
> Mocha Cream whines softly.
> But she's trapped by the arm you've slipped around her neck - or maybe even the comfort offered, as she is not even trying to pull away.
"Why not go out with Megan or Flurry Heart? I know you care for both of them too, and Cadance would be there to look after you."
> Your only answer is silent squirming, and it's abundantly clear that if you want Mocha Cream to go out into the camp, you'd practically have to order her.
> ...or send Megan and Flurry Heart with "orders" - specific or tacit - to drag her kicking and screaming out.
> That would be playing dirty, but effectively.
> And dragging her out to start actually making use of her talent might be the only thing that could get Mocha Cream moving again.
[Choice]
"Mocha. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to go out and announce something at breakfast. I think you should come with me."
> A gasp, and now Mocha Cream does pull from your touch to rear away - shaking her head fearfully.
> "Mast-ter, p-please don't make me-"
"Yes. This is an order, Mocha, not a suggestion - you'll come with me, stay by my side, and then we'll go home. As simple as that. Just a start."
> "O-Order?! But if I d-don't obey-"
"I'll have to give you a few swats around the backside, yes."
> This time the gasp is rather deeper, and your heart twists at the crimson-cheeked expression of shame she wears.
> To think you'd ever consider laying a hand on this mare, after all she'd been through for you.
> Maybe they call it 'tough love' because it's as tough for the one giving it as the one receiving...
> At the same time, you also instantly realize your mistake:
> Mocha Cream was distraught at the idea of disobeying, but she is seriously considering it nonetheless.
"I'll be there the whole time; you won't have to go anywhere without me. And Cadance will be there too; she will protect you too."
> No longer having any words to argue with, she instead settles for a nervous whine.
> And yet, she is so very willing to leap back into your arms when you hold them out again - burying her head into your chest, horn pressing firmly (though not painfully) into your shirt and chocolate twists of mane forming a cushion against you.
> "Master, I'm b-begging you. P-Please, don't make me-"
"Mocha. I know it's scary, but the ponies who would've hurt you are gone now. And you will always be there with someone who can protect you."
> Her 'reply' comes in the form of a terrified whimper.
> With how hard her legs are latched around you arms, she almost seems to have a touch of Earth Pony strength.
> No, neither your pleading request nor the threat of a spanking would get Mocha moving.
> You'd have to find another way.
> Fortunately, tomorrow was Saturday - the beginning of the weekend - and you know just how to make use of that fact.
> ...
> "Hey daddy!"
"Hey there, sweetheart. Can I come in?"
> "Uh-huh."
> Megan and Flurry Heart were both stretched out on the floor side-by-side, a broad spread of various dolls in your daughter's hands and slave's magic.
"You get all your homework done already?"
> "Yeeesss, daddy."
> Flurry giggles at the drawn-out reply.
> "Mistress Megan did, Master."
"Good girl!"
> Seating yourself, you mesh your fingers together and look her in the eye.
"Now. I know the weekend is coming and you're probably going to want to goof off a bit, but I have to ask you to do something special. You know how Mocha Cream is... afraid of seeing other ponies now, right?"
> A shadow passes over both their expressions.
> What surprises you is the fury on Flurry Heart's face; it was the first time you'd seen the little filly express real, true anger at something.
> "It's not good! She's a good pony, she always tries her best for you!"
"No, it isn't. That's why I want your help with something - both of you. Megan, I know you sometimes like to go with Flurry Heart and Cadance on Sundays to watch them practice together-"
> "Uh-huh."
"-so, this time - if Mocha Cream doesn't come out with me tomorrow, I think you two should take her with you. It'll be just you and Cadance and maybe a couple other ponies you meet, so I hope she isn't as scary for her."
> Your daughter's face immediately lights up, and she beats the floor with a little drumroll of tiny kicks.
> "Yes! Yes, that sounds great!"
> "Master? What if she - says no?"
"If she says no, be... clear. Make it understood I want her to go with you, and a trip out with just Cadance and you two is the easiest it can get. But if she's too panicked to understand..."
> You hiss between your teeth.
"...don't drag her out. It won't do any good if she fights. Understand?"
> "Yes, daddy."
> Something in Megan's voice gives you pause.
> It's a tone you're quite familiar with - one that says she's heard you, but isn't necessarily paying attention.
"Megan, do you understand? If you push her to the point she fights you, I'll be upset."
> "I understand, daddy."
> "And I'll make sure she doesn't, Master."
"Good girl, Flurry."
> Ruffling both their heads in turn, you place a soft kiss on each their foreheads.
"Remember. We're trying to heal here, and while she might need a little nudging you can't push too hard."
> ...
> By the time you arrive in the dining hall the next morning, it was already packed with ponies still arriving to scrounge whatever they could for breakfast before beginning the day's work.
> It seemed the new ponies had quickly realized that getting there early was key to getting enough time to properly eat before work shifts began.
> The alicorn herself is easy to spot, of course, and you pause by her seat to whisper:
"He's here?"
> "Yes."
> Cadance murmurs back, eyes flicking towards one of the nearby tables.
> "Third table from the back, fourth from the end, the grey pegasus. You see him? Yes, right there."
> You had seen him, and he had seen that you'd seen him.
"You spoke to him already?"
> "Yesterday, and this morning."
"Okay. I'll speak first, after some others have shown up."
> "Until then?"
"I'll get some breakfast, of course."
> Technically you could have had breakfast afterwards.
> Mocha Cream had not accompanied you - in fact, not appeared in your room at all.
> The knowledge of what you would have to do to her was heavy on your heart, but that didn't mean you couldn't put the time to some good use.
> Cadance's continual reminders to be more involved had stuck on some level, after all.
> Besides, the breakfasts they made weren't that bad - as long as you stayed away from the hay - and so taking a tray and joining in wasn't anything bad.
> Of all the little luxuries you'd developed a fondness for in your wealth, extravagant breakfasts weren't one of them.
> More than a few ponies gave you expressions that varied between surprise and suspicion.
> There's no denying a sour mood hangs in the air.
> After all, word of the attempted escape had well and truly gotten around now.
> Expectation of an impending punishment seemed to have taken on an almost physical weight.
> One that you'd be all too happy to lift for them.
> Strangely, but the time you stand to speak Cadance herself has vanished.
> Odd, but not something you couldn't deal with.
> There's no proper podium, nor a real microphone - only an old telephone hooked up to the PA system.
> Inverting the handset you hold it to your lips and speak.
"Good morning, everyone."
> Your voice cuts the conversation off as sharply as a gunshot.
> Accompanied, of course, by the tension in the room dramatically thickening.
"As I'm sure all of you heard - many at the moment it happened - yesterday a pony tried flying over the fence. They were quickly apprehended by security."
> Murmurs run through the crowd, and you're quite certain those ponies not yet in the dining halls were listening to the PA speakers with perked ears.
"Yesterday, a pony made a choice to flee in frantic terror. After less than thirty-six hours here, they fled the belief that if they dared stay I'd hurt them eventually, one way or another. That taking the chance with the guards and danger of fleeing was the less scary option than staying here."
> You lock eyes with the stallion involved.
> He shakes in his seat, ears laid flat and lips drawn back despite Cadance's reassurances.
"I can't imagine the kind of fear that drives someone to abandon shelter, food, safety in favor of the unknown. But I know I can't just order you to stop feeling it... and certainly can't beat it out of you. I can only show you it is wrong."
> A thousand breaths are held in silent confusion.
"Normally Cadance handles sentencing you here... but I am stepping in now. For this attempt there will be no beating, no whipping, no torture. No physical punishment-"
> Any more words spoken are lost in the rising swell of voices.
> Mutters turn to discussion to yelling.
> You let it last for a moment before continuing:
"Quiet, quiet please! Listen - what you ran from, wasn't me. I understand that. It was a nightmare vision of what I would do. Thirty-six hours is not enough for you to fear anything I have done."
> Now you look around the room, at all the ponies staring in wide surprise.
"You will be given some extra work shifts. But I understand - there was no violence or anger here, just fear. I want to show you I am understanding. So - no whipping. No torments. Don't abuse my good will, and in return I will do all I can to avoid punishments."
> This time the rumble of voices is lower, less frenzied.
> Perhaps a minute or two after you return to your seat, the stallion in question appears at your side with a single question.
> "Why?"
"Because if I whipped you, I would never earn your trust again."
> "I-"
> He hesitates, wings stirring in uncertainty.
> "I don't understand. Why do you want trust? We're your slaves."
"Look around. Do you think any of this would work without trust?"
> "No, but..."
> That's odd.
> The hubbub is growing again, voices rising - something in the entrance pulling their attention.
> Standing, you crane your neck to see-
"She didn't..."
> Your chair practically goes flying back as you leap up and push through the crowd, but what you see is the same at any distance:
> Megan and Flurry Heart on one side, Cadance on the other, both flanking a terrified-looking Mocha Cream who is still managing to walk on her own.
> As you approach a new sound was growing - the constant thud-thud of hooves on the floor.
> At first only the older ponies who'd known who Mocha Cream was, but as word spreads around soon all are joining in until the building itself seems to shudder with their expression.
> Mocha stares with open-mouthed confusion, cheeks rapidly growing pink as she gawks at the reaction.
> When it becomes too much she buries her head in Cadance's wing.
> But she does not flee.
> When the cheers and stomp-applause have finally begun to die down, you drop to one knee before Megan.
"And what exactly did you just do? Why are you even up this early?!"
> "I got Mocha to come out!"
> Her grin is wide and eyes are lit with a sparkle.
> " 'cause, I know you said she would be scared, but I told her if we would be brave and go too then she could be brave and come with us-"
"You walked into the camp with just the three of you?!"
> "No, Master."
> Cadance speaks up quickly, shaking her head.
> "I was with them the whole time, after Canele came to tell me."
> Well, that explains where she'd vanished to after you arrived.
> But Canele - your chef in the manor?
> Yes, there he was.
> Flanks still covered with a slight sheen that spoke of a furious gallop, and peeking out with a nervous but satisfied smile from behind the group.
"Megan, did you co-opt one of the ponies for your own ideas again? I've told you about that..."
> Canele laughs - a tired, but satisfied laugh.
> "With respect, Master, Miss Meghan did not 'co-opt' me. She asked, and I chose to."
> Of course he would.
> Every pony in the manor knew about Mocha Cream's plight.
> If even one of them thought there was something to be done to improve it, they would gladly jump in to do what they could.
> Taking advantage of your pause, Megan jumps back in:
> "So, I got up early and asked Canele to go tell Cadance - and then she came and got us, and we came here-"
"You know Megan, I want to be angry at you for this... escapade. But honestly - honestly, I can only be a little proud."
> After all, she had done well.
> Not demanding, not ordering - but making use of what she knew ponies would do if pushed in just the right way.
"Yes, I'm proud of all of you. But especially-"
> Reaching out, you touch Mocha Cream's chin and gently guide her head from beneath Cadance's wing to look at you.
"-especially you, Mocha. I'm so very proud of you."
> "T-Thank y-you, Master."
> There are tears in her eyes, but the joyful sparkle behind them clearly shows they were not tears born of fear or sorrow.
"You did everything I asked. Maybe not the way I expected, but you did it."
> "Then, M-Master? D-Do you still have t-to p-p-punish me for not coming w-when you asked?"
"Punish-?! No! Not one bit."
> A fresh line of tears breaks from her eyes as Mocha Cream looks around the crowd.
> Ponies part, and Rumble emerges - sides heaving, but also grinning wildly.
> No words are exchanged between the two, only happy little nickers as they nuzzled each other.

> Tourmaline Twist is the first to arrive in your office, trotting a happy little trot at the prospect of seeing you again.
> "Your Highness!"
> She bows sharply, and you nod with an equally warm smile.
> A moment later, you reach over and tenderly nuzzle her.
"Hello, Tourmaline. I'm so glad to see you again."
> "The same, Your Highness. I heard you have a special job for me?"
"You and Lattice both, yes."
> "...ah."
> You blink, tilting your head.
"Is something wrong, Tourmaline?"
> "Forgive me, Your Highness, I don't want to speak ill of him-"
> Your eyes narrow.
> Under Sombra's reign, speaking poorly about another pony in certain respects had guaranteed them a visit from helmeted and obsidian-clad ponies looking to ask particular questions.
> But that would mean Lattice had some problem with you...?
"I will not punish him for thinking poorly of me, Tourmaline Twist. I realize that I am... not what some ponies expected, but despite holding this position in the camp I will not - cannot - punish thoughts."
> "...he doesn't hate you, Your Highness..."
"What, then?"
> Looking back towards the door - still firmly closed from when she'd entered - Tourmaline Twist leans in and whispers:
> "I think he's afraid of you."
> As you'd feared.
> Another terrified of the camp's 'overlord'-
> "No, nonono! Not like... he isn't afraid of the guards. Not even Master, I think. It's... just you. Your Highness."
> Your title added as if needed to placate you.
"...I don't understand. Has he said anything about why?"
> "No. We're not quartered together, and only had a chance to speak at mealtimes. But..."
"Well. I would appreciate your help in doing away with this fear - and you will have plenty of chances. As you'd heard, this is a topic for you specifically."
> Lattice does appear - albeit only at the exact hour he had been requested.
> With this new information, you look on him in a different light.
> Yes, he was scared.
> Eyes rarely on you, as if looking in to them would reveal something he wasn't prepared for you to see.
> Half of you wants to confront him with it then and there, let it out in the open before it gets any worse.
> That was not always a foolproof tactic, however, and you had plenty of other options in the meantime.
"Lattice, I am told you were skilled at growing Crystal back in the Empire - and Tourmaline, you at shaping and fitting. Anonymous is... interested in these abilities, and has asked that I let you have the chance to show your skill."
> "Truly, Your Highness?!"
> The note of elation in Lattice's voice lifts your heart a touch; for just a moment, your office is alight with shimmering light dancing from his coat.
"Yes. If you do well... we will see, but great things could come."
> Drawing a shuddering breath, Lattice looks like a foal who'd been shown a cookie and told he could have it if he won the race.
> Stopping him at all would be hard.
"A space will be provided for you to work in, and some initial supplies. I will check in with you once every couple days to see what you've managed; again: This will benefit not just you, but everypony here."
> "We'll do our absolute best!"
> You pass over slips of paper to each; oddly, Lattice barely lets his field brush against yours.
> Perhaps something unique to Crystal Unicorns' habits...?
> They were so very, very rare...
"These have your new assigned locations. Some basic equipment will be awaiting you there; when you do arrive, make a list of anything else you may need."
> A hesitation, before you speak more softly:
"...may I ask a - personal question, of both of you?"
> "Of course!"
> Lattice does not answer, but merely nods.
"I... I know you were so much stronger when your hearts were filled with love and joy."
> Now it is your turn to dip your head away from their gazes.
"This is not a place overflowing in such emotions, I cannot deny. If you are not able to work the great things you once were, do not blame yourself. Whatever you can do, be proud of."
> "Your Highness."
> It's the first time Lattice has really spoken to you, and his voice almost makes you jump from your seat.
> "You are proposing giving us our heritage back. A chance to... repay how you have saved us twice now. We will not disappoint you."
> A warm, rising feeling in your chest makes you sit up just a touch straighter.
> At the same time, there's still something... distant in his voice.
> Cautious.
"Thank you."
> Sensing their dismissal, both crystal ponies turn to leave.
> At the last moment, however, you cannot help but call out:
"Lattice!"
> He hesitates in the doorway; Tourmaline Twist is already gone and the remaining stallion knows he is alone with you.
> "...Your Highness?"
"Please, whatever it is that makes you fear me-"
> “Is this an order, Your Highness?”
“No.”
> "Then don't - don't ask me that."
> The pain in his voice is almost physical, enough to rock you back.
> "Just know that you have saved me twice already, and leave me to my crystals. Please."
[Choice]
"I will."
> You bow your head, mane falling forward over your face.
"I cannot force you to say anything you do not want to. Not when you've done nothing wrong."
> "Thank you, Your Highness."
> His whisper is still laden with fear, as if to say anything more would cause you to change your mind.
> After he is gone you remain, tapping a pencil thoughtfully on the tabletop.
> Without a doubt something was eating at Lattice.
> Something that caused him to fear you - fear speaking to you.
> To not want his magic to touch yours.
> But what...?
> Had he heard some rumor about you that would make him fear you?
> Or was it back from before, in the Crystal Empire?
> You didn't remember wronging anyone back then, but you couldn't be sure.
> "Your Highness?"
"Mayor Mare? Come in; I'm not busy."
> The graying mare slips into your office and carefully shuts the door behind her.
> "Did your talk with them not go well? I heard you speaking as you stepped out..."
"No, it went well. Just, Lattice... I don't understand it. He is scared of me, for some reason."
> "Because you - manage this place?"
"I don't think so. Something else - something deeper."
> "Should I approach him, Your Highness?"
> That thought sends a soft shudder through your wings.
"No, please. Even if you meant well, if he -"
> You pause, hesitating, then continue more softly:
"The Crystals, Mayor Mare, have very particular memories about being... investigated by authorities. We can set a schedule, but he cannot feel as though we're looming over his withers."
> "I understand."
"If we do have to... maybe come with some gifts. To show his work is still appreciated."
> The older mare cracks a small smile, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes forming.
> "That sounds excellent. Though I'd hoped he would understand better after that show this morning..."
"It was quite the display, wasn't it?"
> "Absolutely. I was most surprised by Megan's role in it."
"I wasn't - not as much. She's bonding well with my Little Gem -"
> Chuckling softly at Mayor Mare's confused look, you add:
"Flurry Heart. They're bonding well together, and not just as Mistress and slave. I'm... glad, as strange as it may sound to hear."
> "Because she is thinking of helping ponies?"
> You rise, turning to look out the office's large glass window.
"It's not just that. She didn't just want Flurry Heart to be happy, she asked ponies who she knew would want to help for assistance. You would not believe how surprised I was when I saw Anonymous' chef come galloping up, flanks covered in froth..."
> Turning back from the window, you offer Mayor Mare a small smile:
"She's thinking of us as individuals, not as tools. That gives me hope; if she can think of us like that, then she can question why we are owned like tools."
> "You think she will free us?"
"I don't know yet. But I think she is our best chance right now."
> "I hope you are correct, Cadance."
> Turning to look at the image of Princess Celestia pinned to your wall, Mayor Mare sighs.
> "Truthfully, I'd accepted the idea of dying a slave. A mare like me doesn't have too much long left, you know?
"Don't be like that, Mayor. You can't ever let go of hope!"
> Still facing the image, she smiles - though the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes.
> "Now I don't. Now I have you, and perhaps Megan and Flurry to give me hope. But before this..."
> Wrenching her eyes away, she turns back to you.
> "No, if you say there's hope I'll trust you know what you are saying. Maybe I can get back what I gave up amid that despair..."
"You certainly can, if you try. Now, was this the only thing you came to ask about, or...?"
> "Oh, no! Sunburst left a message for you; he said that something very important had come up and you should come to see him 'as soon as humanly possible'. Those words, exactly. He told me about that."
> Instantly the edges of your mouth fall in a frown.
> As soon as humanly possible - that meant come see him much later, because he had resistance matters to discuss with you.
> But what would he want now...?
"Was he - nervous?"
> "No, he seemed okay. Your Highness - do I want to know what this is about?"
> There's a glint in her eyes, one that comes from somewhere behind the spectacles she wore.
> Mayor Mare was no fool; if any pony could have discerned that you were planning something it would be the one who helped you oversee so much of the camp.
> And yet, that she hadn't brought Anonymous down on you...
> If she was speaking about daring to believe again...
"I can't tell you whether you want to know. That is for you to decide. I can only say that it is about hope."
> The answer seems to satisfy her, as Mayor Mare's mouth crinkles into a smile.
> "I won't pry then, Your Highness."
> Despite her reassurance, the matter hangs over your head for much of the day.
> By the time evening rolls around, you're having to restrain yourself from galloping to his office.
> You tap lightly on the door and wait; a second later it cracks open and a nervous aquamarine eye peers out.
"You wanted to speak to me, Sunburst?"
> "Oh! Yes, Your Highness! Um, one moment-"
> The door shuts, and something heavy on the far side is moved over.
> One eyebrow rises; just was he up to in there?
> Finally the door cracks open again, and you slip in.
> As before, Sunburst's office is a cluttered and chaotic mess.
> Piles of books rise like stalagmites, and the sole window is half-blocked by one such pile.
> A musty smell permeates the place despite not being particularly old.
> Now, however, there is another photo on his desk - a more recent one, provided by Anonymous.
> Megan, holding Flurry Heart, poses before the camera with him.
"Something to keep your spirits up?"
> "Yes, Your Highness. I still don't get to see her as much outside of lessons. Just... short on time. I've been, um. Very busy, with - the plan."
"The escape plan."
> "Yes."
> Sunburst bobs his head, the barest touch of a smile flitting across it.
> You'd figured it was something like that, but of course his message hadn't outright said.
> "I told Anonymous it was just the extra work with new ponies coming in - and that is adding some. But teaching Flurry Heart and Mocha Cream, organizing the new workshops, and then staying out to work on the fields late at night..."
"If you're being overworked, Sunburst-"
> "I can manage. It's not like I've much else to do..."
> You hold a flat gaze on him until Sunburst wilts.
> "...fine, I'll see what I can pass on to others."
"Good. Because Flurry Heart... she needs you to be more than just an instructor. She needs a friend again too."
> "And I could probably use one too, huh?"
> Rubbing his chin, Sunburst sighs.
> "But - this is important, Your Highness. What's happened now, I mean."
"I gathered, since you asked me out here. What is it?"
> "You remember the basics of the plan, yes? We enchant ponies to inhabit books, and then send those out of the camp - right under the guards' noses. But they still need somewhere safe to go. That's been the choke point, the big delay: Making sure nopony would be... lost."
"And you have something now, I assume?"
> "Yes!"
> Sunburst nods enthusiastically, sending his ragged mane bouncing.
> "We - have verified contact from one of the groups we were talking to. They say they're ready to receive anypony here who needs to get away."
> Now?
> It must have been-
> "Somepony among the new arrivals, yeah."
> Sunburst nods, having accurately guessed your thoughts.
"Can we trust them?"
> "I've verified who they are. The message I received matches their radio broadcasts. And they're one of the better-known organizations."
> His glasses slip from his muzzle, a rag on the table rising to polish the lenses.
> Looking back, you suddenly realize how nervous he looks.
> "Your Highness, I - I don't know what to do. Is this - we started this plan so long ago-"
"We stick with it."
> Settling on your haunches, you sigh:
"Anonymous has... greatly improved. We are now more dedicated than ever before to this place, but we have to be prepared. If something were to happen, or he were to... slip back..."
> You stomp one hoof - then wince at the noise it created.
> A second pauses with both of you in silence, ears pricked for any sign of someone having heard.
"How did they reach out to you, Sunburst?"
> "A note, slipped into one of our dead-drop locations. I detailed how to reach it on a message out."
"It couldn't have been read? Found out?"
> "If it were, Your Highness, we would all be in chains."
> That is... rational enough.
> Anonymous had never been one to withhold his anger once roused; if he discovered this plot there wouldn't be any sneaking about, just a single swift punishment.
"You don't know who it is, then."
> "No. They are keeping their distance, so far. But, given the timing..."
"It has to be somepony in the new arrivals."
> The only question is why they had waited two weeks since arriving to make the point.
> A second of hesitation, and then Sunburst adds:
> "...Your Highness, forgive me. I... I've been dedicated to this, but I'm scared now."
> The glasses fall to his table, the bookish stallion raising his eyes with a fearful, helpless expression.
> "I don't want to be whipped again! I don't know what to do!"
"Oh, Sunburst, forgive me..."
> Stepping around the table, you extend a wing and Sunburst quickly leans into it.
> "I don't blame you. I don't, Your Highness. You did what you had to, and Celestia knows I'm glad to have time with Flurry Heart too. But I'm scared... scared of losing her. Of going back up on that stage, being tied to that pole..."
> He shudders, and your heart quakes in sympathy.
> "Your H- Cadance. Cadance, please tell me - what's our plan here? Are we still trying for this? If somepony did come expecting to escape..."
[Choice]
"We pass the same instructions on to them that I've been giving to you: This is our fallback. Our reserve. Our last resort, in case Anonymous... falls."
> "Cadance, if someponye came in here just to deliver this message-"
"I know!"
> Your voice had been sharper than intended, and Sunburst recoils from your touch.
> Sighing, you extend your wing again.
"I'm sorry, Sunburst. I didn't mean..."
> After a moment, he slips back near to you.
"I suppose... I am afraid too. I fear-"
> A monster beyond your control.
> One of your own making, even.
> Now running beyond your control, making it impossible for you to secure your daughter's safety.
> Sweet Celestia, what would Anonymous do if he found out?
> It would be so much worse than when you'd merely been his unwilling slave.
> Now you were bound up in his efforts; if he discovered your plans now it'd be like - 
> Like a discovering a cheating spouse.
> He truly believed you were a wholehearted accomplice in his efforts now, and in many way you were.
> But what were your alternatives?
> March up to his front door and admit everything?
> You snort audibly, earning a questioning look from Sunburst.
> That'd go fantastically.
> It'd be lucky if you only ended up with the worst whipping of your life, and not hours shackled into that gibbet again!
> No.
"Sunburst, let me ask you this: Can you maintain control of your organization? Just the ponies you have recruited so far?"
> "The ones I know, absolutely. But the way we've isolated each group, each cell - I can't honestly say all of them."
> Always straightforward.
"Then here is what you are going to do: Reply to this - messenger. Keep it limited to as few ponies as you can, even within your network. Perhaps even set aside a group just for this purpose."
> Even as you'd begun to talk, Sunburst had grabbed a paper pad and pencil to begin scratching down your words.
"Tell them that we're glad to have them here and will be more than happy to continue firming up the plan. I would even like to see some - test runs of the plan with inert objects, to verify it will work as planned. But - we will not be initiating an escape. Not now, and not until we are truly at our last resort. This is now a contingency for emergencies."
> "Got it."
> You hiss, glancing out one of the half-blocked windows.
> Just where was this mysterious messenger-pony...
"We'll have to keep them at hooves'-length until we can be certain they are patient enough to understand. Until then - our objective is to hold this as tightly as possible."
> "I understand, Your Highness. And if they do decide that we aren't worth waiting for? If they go to Anonymous?"
"Then-"
> Your voice is whisper soft.
"-then they will only know the ponies who communicated with them. Whoever you ask to do this - make sure they understand the risk."
> "I will, Your Highness."
> They might accept the danger.
> But do you?
> For that matter, if storm clouds begin to gather over the camp again can you really bring yourself to order another escape?
> Certainly ponies would obey you.
> ...most of them.
> If not-
> "You're thinking of your daughter, Your Highness?"
> Sunburst's voice cuts through your thoughts.
> Though, the way you jump probably has more too do with how accurate his guess is.
> "Forgive me, Your Highness, I - you had a look I know well."
"It's fine, Sunburst. I just..."
> Your head hangs, mane sweeping down to cover your eyes and wings shuffling.
"...will she follow me, Sunburst? If - if it happens, and we order an escape, will she follow?"
> "Flurry Heart is not blind or stupid, Your Highness. What she did for Mocha Cream proves it; that would never have occurred to Megan without your daughter at her side."
"No. I know she isn't, but - Celestia help me - they have their hooks sunk so far into her mind. She's so - devoted. If I ask her to leave Megan-"
> "I know."
> Lifting a hoof, Sunburst ever-so-lightly touches your side.
> As if daring to lay a hoof on your body were - sacrilegious.
> "But you can stop it before it gets to that point. And if it does - then she can find her voice too, Cadance. Anonymous might have a temper, but he does listen - if not to her, then to Megan."
> ...
> Anonymous looks calmly at the small collection of marble-sized crystals you set out on his table.
> None were very large, and all heavily flawed.
> Nothing like the pure and gleaming gems that had once risen from the Crystal Empire.
> He sees it too.
> Picking up one, he studies it with a critical eye.
> Beside you, Tourmaline Twist and Lattice shuffle nervously, the latter briefly lighting his horn to adjust the kerchief he had taken to wearing around his neck.
> Neither was used to the opulence of his office or being in close proximity to Anonymous.
> "...relax, both of you. I asked you to do this."
> Setting the stones down, he motions to the pile overall.
> "This took a week?"
> "Yes, Master. I - know they're not very good-"
> Cutting Lattice off with a raised hand, Anonymous shakes his head.
> "What is this - rubies?"
> "Mostly, yes. It's - what the soil here is best for. What I can bring up from the ground. Some sapphire, malachite..."
"They cannot generate gems from nothing, Master. Just like growing plants, the gems need something to grow from."
> "Rubies, but... very rough, I'd say."
> He isn't wrong.
> Each and every one there was shot through with flaws: Cracks, inclusions, impurities.
> Gemstones were not your specialty, but you had lived long enough in the Crystal Empire to recognize when they were so dramatically imperfect.
> Tourmaline Twist shifts on her hooves.
> "We're still - learning how to use the ground here, Master. And neither of us has been able to practice this in a very long time..."
> "I'm not looking for excuses - Tourmaline, yes?"
> The mare shifts, looking away as she nods.
> "I'm not looking for excuses. I just want to honestly know, can you produce crystals I can use for something better? You too, Cadance."
> Tourmaline is the first to speak up.
> She even manages to project some force into her voice, even if her ears are still flicking nervously:
> "I think I can, Master. And even if they aren't good enough to be sold for jewelry - you use other crystals here for enchanted items, correct? Even imperfect crystals we grow can be better for that than whatever you're buying."
"This is true. Even what is too flawed for a jeweler to use can be used for enchanting."
> "And it'll be better than what I'm buying? Because those don't exactly cost much."
"Significantly. Enchantments will take with less effort, and last longer."
> Rubbing his chin, Anonymous turns one of the gems around in his hand.
> "Tourmaline, Lattice - there's no penalty here for being honest with me. Can you do better than this? Make enough to support our enchanters?"
> "Yes! With more time, more practice - we can!"
> While Tourmaline seems more certain with this repetition, Lattice's ears fall.
> "I... yes, Master. I - I think I'm already improving."
"Can you show him, Lattice? Which ones you worked on?"
> Instantly Lattice flinches, looking to you with fear in his eyes.
> You're left with the particular sense that this was something he'd rather wished you hadn't suggested.
> Anonymous, unfortunately, notices it too and leans forward:
> "Yes, Lattice. Why don't your show us?"
> Lighting his horn, Lattice carefully removes three gems from the pile - and no more.
> Not the largest nor the finest of the lot either.
> "...Cadance, I thought you said his talent was creating these."
"I did. Lattice?"
> "I can do better! I can! You - I don't know why - it's not working right, I can-"
> Tourmaline nuzzles him and Lattice cuts off, burying his muzzle in her mane.
> Your heart twists; of course he would be terrified.
> The vicious consequences of failing a slaver was something the Crystal Ponies remembered all too well.
> "Please, Yo- Miss Cadance! Master Anonymous! I can do better, just - give me time!"
"...I believe him, Anonymous. Let him keep trying."
> Rubbing his chin, Anonymous looks at you questioningly - but nods.
> "Okay. You're both dismissed; return to your work and keep trying harder. We'll check in once you've had a chance to improve."
> "Thank you, Master!"
> "Yes, Master! Thank you!"
> Both all but flee from the room, not even bothering to collect their gems before leaving.
> Anonymous grumbles softly:
> "I hope you're right about them being able to get better, Cadance."
"They just need to be more comfortable, Anonymous!"
> "So I've been told."
> Pushing his seat back, he stands and walks to the window.
> "And Cadance, remember: When we're in front of them, I'm Master. I'm willing to tolerate a bit when it's just us or close friends, but not all the time."
> Wincing, you follow close behind.
"...yes, Master."
> "Good girl."
> Beneath, the two crystals trot out from the manor and back into the camp proper.
> "I hate to sound the tough one, Cadance, but it's been a week and they've barely made a handful of dollars. It's not enough to even feed them on."
"But-"
> Silencing you with a raised hand, Anonymous shakes his head.
> "I'll give them time to work. It's only two ponies, and this experiment may yet be worth it. Do what you have to in order to make them comfortable. I admit, though, I'm... not sure. Might've gotten dollar signs in my eyes when I heard the idea."
> He sweeps back around to settle back into his chair with a might groan from both man and wood.
> "Lattice is doing poorly at this. He doesn't seem to have much skill at all, despite claiming it's his talent."
> Still following, you sigh and feel your ears falling:
"I... am afraid some of that may be my fault. He seems to fear me and it is affecting his skill. I don't know why."
> Leaning over, Anonymous places a soft, affectionate kiss between your ears - leaving you squirming at the touch.
> "It upsets you, doesn't it."
"Yes. Very."
> "I can tell. You feel - affectionate towards these two. Almost - motherly. But baby birds need to be kicked out of the nest to fly - or, do pegasi do that?"
"They do not!"
> Anonymous chuckles at your indignant expression.
> "I get it. They were your charges. You want to be easy on them. But that's not how things are anymore, Cadance."
"Believe me, Master, I know."
> If he realizes the point of you calling him Master, it doesn't show.
"Once he starts to feel comfortable, he'll do so much more."
> "I hope so. If we could do this - even just to grow better crystals for the enchanting workshops-"
> Unconsciously, Anonymous reaches out to begin stroking your mane.
> You tolerate it silently.
> It wasn't - entirely unpleasant.
"There's something else I want to bring up, Anonymous. I think - with all the new ponies coming in, I'll need to take some actions to prevent... more incidents like that escape attempt."
> "Mmm, yes. We're lucky there hasn't been another one."
> You have been lucky.
> No need for you to take up the whip again.
"Exactly. And, I think, we need to make it clear that just running away without a plan is - dangerous."
> Anonymous' eyes fly open.
> Studying you with an intensely scrutinized expression, the corners of his mouth turn down into a frown.
> Your heart leaps; was it too much?
> Too blunt?
> Did he suspect-
> "I get it."
> Laughing softly, he leans back into his seat and folds his hands together.
> "You think Lattice might get some rabbit in his blood, try to run? I don't think you're right, but I'm open. What are you thinking of?"
> The relief on your face must be clear, even if he doesn't know of the escape plan.
> What exactly are you thinking of, though?
> This would have to be done delicately, to avoid the appearance that you've suddenly turned to - promoting slavery.
> ...even though you kind of are.
> A lump forms in your throat at that thought - yet another rung down the ladder of dignity for you.
> Your own fault this time too.
> You could just focus on contacting one of the ponies that had left with the last plan - have them talk about what hardships they'd encountered on their attempt.
> Or - or, Thunderlane had mentioned that the construction teams had a free pony on them, and that his life was none too easy either.
> Perhaps he could talk?
> Even have Anonymous take some of the others into the city, to see what you had.
> Would that strike the balance you were aiming for - resist only when necessary?
[Choice]
"Anonymous, do you remember when I went into the city? How what we saw... affected me?"
> "Yes... you want to take them with you?"
> He's catching on fast.
"Not them - not the Crystals. It would be too much to think about, and - I'm not sure I can think of a good reason to include them. No, just - some ponies, from within the camp."
> Besides, the Crystals weren't the ones who you were worried about.
> "Granted, you'd still need a reason to bring them along."
"Do we?"
> Anonymous tilts his head.
> "Won't it be a bit obvious if we don't?"
"Yes - well - not having no reason at all. Just, we don't need a specific reason reason for the ponies in question. If we had to..."
> You tap a hoof thoughtfully; quickly, however, Anonymous speaks up:
> "I have a potentially risk proposition to suggest."
"Tell me."
> "Mocha Cream is - coming down to visit more often now, yes?"
> Despite the serious topic, a small smile finds its way to your lips.
"Yes - always with my escort, but she is coming. Has even started speaking to some of the other ponies on her own again. Why?"
> "The computers I ordered are coming in within a few days."
> You nod absentmindedly.
> Deciding that the camp finally merited allowing some more advanced human technology in - albeit under severe restrictions, as he had put it, to avoid ponies using it for 'unfortunate purposes' - had been a welcome one.
> But you still weren't quite sure how-
> It clicks, and you breathe softly:
"The family project..."
> "Exactly."
> Nodding in confirmation, Anonymous cracks a small grin in return.
> "Mocha will announce that opportunity opening up. Once they start identifying possible acquisitions, we can have the closest relative come along to collect them... but for other acquisitions, to fill in work team positions we need, why not have it be by lottery instead? Or 'lottery' anyhow."
> There's something unsettling about how easily willing he is to bias an allegedly-fair chance.
> But you can't deny the value of the idea.
"I think that would work very well, yes!"
> "Not to urgent a need, to get these ponies out on a trip then?"
> Snorting gently you shake your head and give your tail a little lash.
"I'm not expecting a dramatic escape attempt tomorrow, if that's what you mean."
> "Good. So, you think this will work out?"
"I can't see any reason why it wouldn't. I appreciate your input-"
> "Don't worry about it. This is why we talk - to get these ideas out and bounce them off each other."
> You nod sharply.
"And in the meantime... maybe I will begin to speak about it a bit more honestly. Not making it overly obvious, but speaking about how much it hurt to... lose some of them."
> To this, Anonymous doesn't reply.
> Only jerks his head in an affirmative gesture, his mouth set in a thin line.
> A second later, though, it softens.
> "I'm glad to have you on my side now, Cadance. Working through this together is infinitely better than butting heads over it."
> On his side?
> You recognize the futility of trying to push an escape early, but no.
> You are not 'on his side'.
> Not the side of someone who would so casually dismiss what you had been to your ponies, your bond with them.
> Just another reminder that Anonymous might be better than he had been, but in so many ways Anonymous still saw you as his things.
> Turning aside, you look back to the window.
> Tourmaline Twist and Lattice had long since vanished back into the camp.
> Part of you wants to lecture him.
> To explode, even.
> Let all the frustration and pain and regret that had been stored away inside of you so long burst forth.
> Would he even understand how much you had lost, if you did?
> It'd be a gamble at the core - if you didn't get through to him, it was unlikely he would take it lying down.
> Maybe there'd come a day when you didn't mind that cost, but that day was not today.
> Today you remind yourself that however much regret was born on your shoulders, Aunt Celestia had undoubtedly borne more through her long life as a ruler.
> Undoubtedly was bearing so much more now.
> Anonymous' hand brushes the back of your neck.
> "Penny for your thoughts, Cadance?"
"Will we ever be free?"
> The question is whispered out.
> Half of you didn't even mean for him to hear it, and that same half worries even that would be enough to provoke an outburst of anger from him.
> But the other half is honestly wondering how he will answer.
> "I don't know. There's a political movement here and there, a bill gets proposed in congress every year or two. But the scales are against them. Too many people seeing what could be done with you."
> With you.
> Not for you.
> Not alongside you.
> That he doesn't even say anything of his own plans tells you enough of what his plans are.
> You blow a sigh out through flared nostrils.
"...I see."
> Behind you Anonymous stirs.
> "Cadance-"
"No. I understand."

> The first time you'd seen the few tents in the distance, you hadn't thought of it.
> After all, they were on the next hill over.
> Maybe half a mile from the cam's fence - far too distant to really see anything.
> Besides, who decided to camp out in the middle of the summer was entirely their business and not your own.
> But they weren't just camping out.
> That much became clear when the encampment vanished a few days later, and certain when half a dozen more tents and a pair of large house-like trucks joined them.
> You missed the start of the real trouble, though - when the banner was unfurled.
> Heard about it pretty quickly, though, when a pony came galloping down the road:
> "Mister Thunderlane! Mister Seismic! You'd better come on over, there might be a problem!"
> Immediately your heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping into your veins.
"Where?"
> "I'm from the number four enchanting shop - over in third and 'F' streets, near the fence! But there's a lot of ponies watching now!"
"What is it? A fight? Is anypony hurt?"
> "No, just - come and see!"
> He takes off at a gallop with both you and Seismic Shift following close behind.
> Your stomach begins to sink as you get close:
> So many ponies, crowded around near the edge of the fence.
> Had somepony tried to jump the fence again?!
> ...no, they weren't surrounding anypony.
> They were crowding in against the fence, looking out.
> But why-
> You follow their eyes, and come skidding to a stop.
"It's - it's a -"
> A protest.
> An enormous banner, easily a couple hundred feet long, had been unfurled:
> 'WE WILL NOT FORGET YOU'
> As the wind shifts, distant scraps of singing drift over to your ears.
> "And where in Tartarus were they when we were being enslaved, huh?"
> The growled question from Seismic leaves you with an eyebrow raised; he'd rarely given his thoughts about being enslaved.
> Several other smaller banners had also joined the largest one, some too small to be read easily at this distance while some screamed out their messages in huge block letters:
> 'SLAVERY = ABOMINATION'
> 'LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL'
> 'BREAK THE CHAINS'
> Tearing your eyes away, you grunt:
"Where they were doesn't matter. What matters is they're here, now, and we've got work to be doing."
> Wading into the crowd, you raise your voice and start urging ponies back inside the workshops.
> Most go, though some take a little more urging.
> Seismic joins you, as do a few others among the crowd; as you all work cars begin to arrive on the far side of the fence.
> First one of the camp guards' vehicles, and then two police cars.
> Soon after, Anonymous himself pulls up and goes to speak with the police.
> Much as you wish you could listen in on that particular conversation, you have to keep urging everypony back inside and so only catch the very end.
> "...the hell do you mean, they're on public land?!"
> "Sir, they're staying on the edges of the county road. As long as they don't block the road or create a hazard for cars, I can't do anything about them."
> With a sweeping gesture, Anonymous motions towards the rapidly-diminishing crowd of ponies.
> "They're disrupting my property, officer!"
> "Yes, sir. But that's their rights. I can't order them to leave unless they present an actual danger."
> Grumbling, Anonymous rubs his face in a palm.
> Beside you a voice laughs softly.
> "It's a good thing he doesn't know some of them were over near the fence before too."
> Turning, you find Copper Dust still standing out and watching as well.
"Were they?"
> "Uh-huh. Not damaging the fence or anything, but talking to ponies. That's why everypony was out."
"You going to tell him?"
> "I wasn't. Are you?"
> You glance back towards Anonymous, who seems to have come to terms with this for the moment and is now taking rather more calmly with the police.
> No, you aren't going to tell him.
> Not right now, anyhow.
"Why're you still out here, Copper Dust?"
> "I was helping send ponies back inside."
> "He was."
> Seismic Shift rumbles.
> "Saw him in the crowd, trying to wave ponies back inside."
"...huh."
> You eye Copper Dust inquiringly; he manages an awkward grin.
> "Is that - against the rules?"
"No, not at all. I appreciate it, actually."
> "He did good. S'got a good, strong voice."
> Copper Dust rolls his eyes at Seismic's comment, but doesn't argue.
"You know, if you're that good at it you could always join the camp's watch. We could use more ponies."
> "I-"
> Glancing aside, Copper Dust frowns.
> "Look, I know - I get you're not monsters or bullies or anything. But - I don't think I can do that. Help - them enforce us."
"It's not like that, Copper. The watch doesn't arrest anypony, doesn't do whippings. They just keep the simple rules. The little rules for life anywhere, not obeying-"
> "They send reports to the ones who do, and-"
> Copper Dust bites his tongue.
> "...sorry. Look, I'm just not going to be a collaborator."
"I understand."
> You offer a calm, disarming smile.
"No one's going to force you. And your honesty's good, I like that too."
> "Thanks. I guess I should get back inside too, huh?"
> Turning to go back in, Copper suddenly pauses and looks back towards the protestors.
> "I just never imagined I would see anything like that - here."
"You've seen it before?"
> "Once... or twice. A few times. Humans willing to help ponies. Wanting us to be free. I used to be owned further east. There were sometimes people there."
"Never seen anything like it. I still can't quite believe it."
> Seismic gives a dismissive, annoyed snort towards the crowd - that giving his own apparent opinions on them.
> "Hmm."
> Copper Dust gives a shake of his long, shaggy mane - lighting his horn to brush it out of his eyes.
"Y'know, if you want to do something about that there's a mare over on 4th and C streets who can cut it pretty good. She's how I keep mine up."
> Lifting a hoof, you brush the top of your spiked-up mohawk meaningfully.
> "Ha. Nah, it's okay. I like it this way. Thanks, though."
"No problem."
> As Copper Dust wanders back into his workshop, you turn to Seismic Shift.
> His eyes have fallen on the distant encampment again, and are narrowed in something that is definitely not pleasure.
> Ears are pinned too.
> Eventually he catches your gaze.
> "Look at them out there... singing songs, holding up banners. Like that's going to really change anything."
"You don't know that. Humans aren't like ponies. They don't - think like us. We remember the herd, will act to protect it. They... I don't know."
> Seismic snorts heavily again.
> "Either act for what you want to see, or keep your mouth shut. Don't go halfway, I say."
"They could still be trouble, though. We need to be prepared for something."
> "Agreed."
> Anonymous is still fuming much later when you get called up to his office.
> Gene is there too, but looks rather more uncertain.
> You get the sense he doesn't quite seem to know how to think of this.
> On second glance, neither does Anonymous:
> He stands in front of a table, arms folded and staring with dull eyes at the papers spread out before him.
> "...right, here's the deal. Good news is, I went down and talked with the county police chief. Good news is, cops will hit 'em as soon as they actually cross any lines with us."
> Slumping back into his chair, he rubs his forehead.
> "Bad news is, they're professional shitflingers. Some of the banners they've got put up, they're linked to some kind of national movement. They're probably getting advice and planning assistance on how to stay out of trouble while making the most grief for us possible."
"Do you think they'll stay? A long time, I mean?"
> "Yeah. Turns out there's some open land maybe forty minutes from here. Once I chatted with the chief a bit he mentioned they've started setting up tents and RVs, settling in for the long haul."
> Gene makes a little uncertain noise in the back of his throat.
> "I heard they were over at the fence before you got there."
> "Did you? Huh. Something wrong, Thunderlane?"
> Promptly you slam your mouth shut.
> Damn your surprised look!
"No. I'm just... I hadn't seen any of that."
> "Well, that's what happened. I've called up the security company that wired up this house. They're willing to put up some new systems - set some cameras on the fence, wire it all up. Bad news is, it's going to be pricey. And Gene, I think we're going to need a new hire for that?"
> "Yes. Not enough to watch that many screens now. But, the Pegasus Detectors - I'd have to have someone check it, but a person should be large enough to set them off if they get too close without a tag."
"Is there, uh, a way to make them not go off like that? Otherwise they could really cause problems just by running up and making them sound off. Those things turn stomachs from a gallop or two away."
> "...probably. Silent alarm below a specific altitude? Below the fence-top? Yes, I'd have to check the programming for them."
> Anonymous nods sharply.
> "Do that. It's still going to be pricey, but if we can use their motion detectors it'll be less so... okay, Thunderlane?"
> You can already guess what he's going to ask you for.
"I can find a few ponies willing to pull some extra watches."
> "Good. It won't be for long, but I'm willing to bet they'll try something like that again and I can't risk-"
> The office door pops open, and Mayor Mare slips in.
> "My apology, Sir, Cadance was caught up and asked if I could come instead."
> "That's fine."
> Anonymous waves her over, shaking his head.
> "There's not much to be said at this point anyhow, aside from that some people are going to be coming through to install some security cameras."
"I'll get some new patrols in place..."
> Tilting his head, Anonymous raises an eyebrow.
> "Something wrong, Thunderlane?"
"Just... Why us? Why now?"
> In answer, he slides a computer across the table and spins the screen to face you.
> You don't need to be told what to look for:
> The article is right there, the headline blaring out:
> 'Hundreds of Pony Laborers Purchased by Experimental Work Facility'.
> Somewhat beneath that, in smaller type:
> 'Large purchase of ponies for once-troubled business raises interest.'
"...you're joking."
> "Nope. Someone squealed. Or something, I don't know how. Anyway, it got plastered over a bunch of websites and caught their attention."
> Your mother once told you that you'd make the news some day.
> Of course, she meant you'd fly into a building because you weren't being careful and end up being town gossip for a few months.
"So, now they decide to get outraged at us? Because of this?"
> A bit of Seismic Shift's ire leaks into your own voice.
> With good reason, though.
"What about all those other Tartarus-pits they send ponies to? The ones where they send ponies die?!"
> Anonymous spreads his hands plaintively.
> "Hey! Look, do you think I know?"
"...right. Sorry."
> Mayor Mare brushes against you with a reassuring touch, and you give her a smile back.
> "If they do start causing more trouble, Thunderlane? Just let us know. Get Gene, or me, or someone else. Hell, we'll get the police out there."
"Uh-huh."
> "Thunderlane-"
> Sitting up in his seat, Anonymous leans forward.
> "-you understand?"
"Yes. I do. Get someone else, don't try and start anything myself. I'll do that."
> "Good. I think that's everything for now. Mayor - if you have the chance, tell Cadance I'm glad we planned our course of action this morning."
> You turn to go; behind you he slumps back into his seat and rubs his eyes again.
> Just before the door closes he mutters:
> "...at least the shareholders can't blame me for this one."
> Then it has clicked shut, leaving you out in the hallway.
> Mayor Mare offers you little more than a brief nod before trotting off, but you barely notice.
> Now out of Anonymous' presence your thoughts were drifting back to your own emotions.
> Why had you been so angry at the protesters coming here?
> Wasn't that at least somewhat of a good thing?
> A shout, even years-late and aimed in the wrong direction, better than complete and total silence?
> But you'd been angry...
> Was it really that they'd been so late, and hadn't gone to one of the worse camps?
> How did you know they hadn't?
> Or was it that they were - a threat?
> Hissing softly through your teeth, you shake your head.
> You don't want to believe that.
> Even the possibility seemed traitorous on a whole new level - that you'd actually become comfortable enough in slavery that when someone finally arrived to protest it, you were angry at them for disrupting what meager life you'd managed to cobble together.
> That was the truth though, wasn't it?
> You'd grown comfortable in your chains.
> As if echoing your thoughts, Gene sighs heavily.
> "These protesters... it is not good."
"What do you mean?"
> "Do you remember how I told you once - when I was a boy, we had things like this too? People who got angry enough to act?"
"Yes. You said they eventually threw them ou-"
> You start, remembering how the rest of that story went.
"You're not - you don't think we're going to be chased out-"
> "No, no!"
> Holding up his hands defensively, Gene sighs.
> "No. But if he tells the police to try and remove them - even if some of them do come to the fence - it will be..."
"Yeah. I get it."
> "That is not how you win this battle. He can't win it that way."
"You would know, yes..."
> "Unfortunately, when I was a boy they did not provide many ideas on how to do it right. But then, they were a lot worse than Anonymous is. I do not want to see him fall like they did."
> Catching your confused look, he adds:
> "He has a family. And at his heart, I think he is good. If... easily angry."
"...do you have a family, sir?"
> "Yes. My wife, and a son and daughter. The younger is older than Megan. Do you?"
"I... think I'll have a foal very soon."
> "Then you understand too."
> You do.
> But there's one other pony that qualifies as family you just have to talk to before letting this be.
> Unfortunately, he's rather less than pleased to see you.
> The moment you shut the door into your quarters, Rumble quickly preempts you with a single sharp word:
> "No."
"Rumble, I haven't even said a thing about why I wanted to talk to you yet-"
> "It's obvious!"
> The colt-turning-stallion rolls his eyes, quickly making his way over to your bed and leaping up to it with a flick of his tail.
> "The humans. Protestors? The protestors outside the camp. You want me to stay away from them."
"Yes! Yes, I do! Because we don't know what exactly they're going to do yet, Rumble-"
> With a snort he rolls over onto his back and stares at you from beneath an upside-down muzzle.
> "Isn't it obvious? They want us free! We're here, so they're here. Finally, the first humans I actually can like a little..."
"We don't know that yet, Rumble!"
> Stepping to the bed's edge, you duck your head down to reach head-level with him.
"We know why they're here, but what they're going to do? No, we don't. Anonymous is upping security at the fence-line; he's worried about what might happen there."
> "C'mon, bro - we just had this conversation, I get it!"
"Apparently you don't, because you're talking about leaping headfirst into a stormcloud again!"
> "Come on! I learned that lesson - I won't assume anything and yell at them over it. Isn't that what you're saying? Don't just assume they know what's best-"
"I'm saying, I don't want you mixed up in that period."
> "Oh, quit losing your feathers over a breeze!"
> Rolling back over onto his belly, Rumble sits back up and glares at you fiercely.
> "I'm nearly a full-grown stallion now, bro! I can take care of myself!"
"Apparently not, if what I saw last time is any indication!"
> Both your voices are steadily rising, eyes narrowing as the argument grows.
> "Hey, you don't get to hang that over my head!"
"I'm not trying to! I'm looking to protect you!"
> "Yeah, I get it. But you know, I don't need you hanging over my withers all the time!"
"I'm not trying to hang over you, I-"
> "Oh!"
> Both your's and Rumble's ears perk at the sudden gasp.
> As if a spell was broken, you suddenly realize how you must look:
> Ears pinned back and wings spread threateningly, hooves tapping on the ground in preparation to charge.
> ...and of course, who'd come in to see you but Vapor Trail herself.
> "I..."
> Confusion reigns supreme in the mare's expression, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you.
> "...should I go?"
> "Nah."
> Rumble leaps from your bed, tail still swishing angrily.
> "I think I got the message. See you 'round, Vapor."
> Then he is gone, leaving only you with your head hanging and tail limp.
> "Do I want to ask what that was about, Thunderlane?"
"...probably not. But ask away."
> Instead she approaches - coming closer on heavy hooves until you can feel her breath on your mane.
> "What happened, Thunderlane?"
"I - tried to warn him over something. And it didn't go too well; he thought that I was - I don't know."
> "What over?"
"The protesters who showed up today on the edge of camp? With the big banner?"
> "Oh, yes!"
> Vapor Trail's eyes light up, and despite her heavy and swollen belly she does a little happy trot in place.
> "Yes! It's so exciting! I didn't believe it at first, not until Twisty swore it was true!"
> Despite her jubilation, you can only feel your stomach sinking further.
> This - this was exactly what you'd feared.
> "I don't know why, but - oh, thank Celestia, I'm so glad to see some of them are finally opening their eyes to seeing what's happened to us. I wish there was a way we could say 'thank-you' without Anonymous knowing, and-"
> She pauses, finally having looked back to you.
> Slowly Vapor Trail's elated smile fades, hooves coming back to the floor.
> "Thunderlane, what's wrong?"
"I'm afraid of what they're going to do, Vapor."
> Forcing the words out takes effort, and gives them an almost hissing quality.
"What they could set off in here. Ponies could get eager to try and strike out at Anonymous again, to try and run off and - ponies could get hurt."
> Lifting your eyes, you finally manage to lock gazes with Vapor Trail.
"He could get hurt. You could get hurt!"
> "I know you worry about him. But you can't keep track of his every move, and Rumble has to take care of himself too."
"...it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten in trouble around the fence."
> "What do you mean?"
"Back when the new camp was being built there was a pony on the construction crews. Somehow he and Rumble ended up close to the fence, and nearly got in a fight. It was a misunderstanding in the end."
> "Oh..."
> Looking aside, Vapor Trail frowns.
> "You did talk to him about it?"
"Yes. And he understood, too. Went back to apologize to the stallion later, he told me. But... what if it happens again? What if - another pony, but starting something that spreads?"
> "I know that, Thunderlane. I know. But - we have to seize this moment. We can't let it slip away; they have to know we're not satisfied with this life!"
> Again the question is whispered in the back of your mind:
> Were you just unhappy with their arrival?
> Was it the stability that you'd found which was at risk, not Rumble or Vapor's safety?
> Once more Vapor Trail draws close to you, nuzzling your cheek.
> "It's a risk, but we can't stop. Not now. Not when we finally have a chance."
"A chance at what, though? Freezing or roasting while hiding in a ditch? Getting shot by some over-antsy human with a gun?"
> "At being free, Thunderlane! Maybe not running now, but showing the humans out there - who came for us - that we see them and care! Doesn't that matter to you anymore?!"
> Eyes beginning to water, Vapor Trail lifts a hoof to her belly.
> "What about my foal being free? Doesn't what I want still matter?"
"Yes! Yes, it does! But - I -"
> The words stick in your throat.
> Already, your mind could see it:
> Exactly what you'd feared.
> What little friendship and love there was in the camp being torn apart by this.
> All the victories washed away.
> That vision is broken, though, by a soft brush of muzzle to muzzle.
> Vapor Trail nuzzles you a touch more; you let your eyes slip shut and nicker softly, which she echoes.
"I'm sorry. I'm just so scared it will all go wrong."
> "...I know you are. But you can't control others' wants, Thunderlane. Not anymore than Anonymous can. Stop them from doing anything rushed, yes, but not what they want. And I think you owe Rumble an apology."
[Choice]
"...yeah. I suppose you're right."
> Groaning, you flop back onto the bed.
> Having to apologize to your headstrong little brother on top of all the other concerns you had was not something you were ready for.
> Almost immediately, however, Vapor Trail is at your side - her muzzle brushing along your neck and little puffs of breath tickling your mane.
> "I know. Little siblings can be a real pain, can't they?"
"Like you would not believe."
> Pushing out with a wing, you roll around onto your back and smile up at Vapor.
> She, in turn, smiles warmly right back before placing a soft kiss on your nose.
> Of course you can't let that go un-returned, and reach up with both forelegs to pull her into a rather deeper, more intimate kiss.
> An indignant squeak quickly turns into a pleased hum as your lips meet.
> Once the moment is broken, you whisper up:
"Thank you, Vapor. For being there for me. For everything."
> "Quit being a featherbrain, Thunderlane. You don't have to thank me. You're there often enough for me!"
> She does have a point, and you-
"Oooof! Careful, you're kind of heavy!"
> Vapor Trail smirks a touch from where she'd sprawled across your belly.
> "Are you calling me fat?"
> Leaning up, you manage to just reach the edge of one of her ears - but still, a perfectly-nibble-able edge.
"...I refuse to answer, on the basis that there's only one bed in here for sleeping and I'd rather not end up on the floor tonight."
> Far to busy giggling at your tickling nibbles to respond initially, and when she does it's by scooting up to place a soft kiss on your cheek.
> "I just told you don't be a featherbrain. I'd never kick you out of bed."
"I know."
> Closing your eyes, you wrap your hooves around her and sigh.
"And - Vapor. I guess I should apologize to you as well. I didn't mean it that I was... ignoring what you want."
> "I know, Thunderlane."
> Curling into your touch, Vapor Trail still frowns.
> "Maybe I'm on a little bit of a hair trigger too. With the foal coming so soon maybe it's hormones, or maybe I'm remembering what I really want for them. But won't let a chance at freedom just... go away."
> Eventually you drag yourself - most unwillingly - from her grasp and head out.
> The summer night is warm verging on uncomfortable, but a steady breeze is rolling through the camp.
> You loft yourself above the rooftops and set out towards Rumble's home.
> Fortunately he's not hard to find seeing as he's gone to sit on the roof rather than inside.
> Touching down behind him, you cough softly and speak:
"...hey, bro..."
> "Hey, 'lane."
> He doesn't look up at you, keeping his head tilted up to face the moon in a cloudless sky.
> But neither does Rumble's tone suggest he's that angry at you.
> Slipping up and around to his side you find that he was staring up at the moon.
"Listen, I, uh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump on you like that. I know you're not trying to do anything wrong, I'm just..."
> It hurts to admit it, but it's the truth.
"...I'm scared."
> "Yeah."
> Rumble grimaces and finally tears his eyes away to look at you.
> "Guess I am too. S'why I fought back on it."
"Mm-hmm. I'm afraid, if they do something dumb - Anonymous isn't our friend. But he's not the worst. Not even as bad as he used to be. I'm scared he'll go back to being like that. Whips coming out for the little things - wandering around after curfew, hanging out near the fence...."
> "And I'll get in trouble again."
"Uh-huh."
> Rumble chuckles wryly.
> "Yeah, I can see why. I would hang out like that."
"And if it does happen, there's nothing I could do to stop it. He'd take everything away - stop Mocha Cream from coming into the camp to help us..."
> That, you can see from the way Rumble's ears fall back, has his attention.
> It's a low blow, using his affection for the filly - but it works.
"And maybe I'm a little bit angry too. The humans were the ones who put us in this situation, and now they come here instead of any of the much, much worse places... But you were right too: You nearly are a full-grown stallion now, and I can't keep hovering over your shoulder like big horsefly all the time."
> After a second Rumble extends his wing up over your withers.
> Not the easiest, seeing as he is still a touch shorter than you, but he manages.
> "And I get what y'mean, Thunderlane. Figured out we can't just be... jumping at every shadow, making every breeze into a storm."
"That's my little bro, all grown up now."
> Seating yourself on your haunches, you let Rumble's wing settle around you.
> His gaze turns back up to the moon.
"...what, you like it or something?"
> "Just thinking. About - how when Princess Luna was imprisoned in the moon for a thousand years as Nightmare Moon, she must've looked down and wondered if she'd ever be free."
> Rumble's eyes fall to the rooftops of the camp, spreading out before you.
> "Now I look up, and wonder if we'll be free."
"Someday, Rumble. Someday we'll put all of this behind us. Every last thing."

> You hiss softly as Mocha Cream's hooves dig into your back, drawing a concerned gasp from the little mare.
> "Master! This isn't h-hurting you, is it?"
"Just the opposite, Mocha. Please, continue."
> "O-Oh... you're very stressed, Master. I was afraid I was p-pushing too hard."
> You chuckle softly; this time you were trying the massage with the table nearer to the floor, so Mocha Cream did not have to climb up onto it.
> The result was that he was rather more stable and could exert more pressure in her work.
> Not that you minded; as you'd told her, it was quite the opposite.
"This feels heavenly. I have been a bit more stressed lately, so I would imagine you could feel it too."
> "M-Master, I-"
> Her voice cuts off in the sudden way that tells you even without looking that her cheeks were crimson with blush.
> Instead Mocha Cream waits a few moments before speaking in a softer tone:
> "It's the p-protesters, Master, isn't it?"
> This time your groan is not one of pleasure.
"Exactly what it is."
> "T-They aren't going away."
"No, they aren't. Bastards are coming back every day to start it up all over again."
> "Don't worry about them now, Master. Please, just relax and try to enjoy this."
> It's a nice thought, but Mocha's questions have already opened Pandora's Box of concerns.
> Just when it'd seemed things were quieting down, a pile of self-serving hippie-wannabes had shown up on your doorstep to make life hard again.
> How long would it be before one of them did something stupid?
> Take some bolt cutters to the fence, throw a walkie-talkie over to get their idiocy inside the camp...
> It'd only take them encouraging a small fraction of ponies to-
> "Master! Please!"
> Mocha Cream's cry is enough of an interruption to let you realize you'd been holding your breath.
> Letting it out with a loud sigh, you shift on the massage bed and let your mare resume her work.
"Sorry, Mocha. You're right, this is getting to me."
> Still, though, the topic being brought up has already opened a Pandora's Box of questions in your mind.
"Mocha?"
> "Yes, Master?"
> If she hears the uncertain tone in your question, she doesn't comment on it.
"What do you think of them? Of the idea of - leaving?"
> Her hooves freeze in place on your back.
> At first you wonder if you'd scared her, but no:
> Mocha always shivered a touch when she was really afraid.
> Which means that she is taking time to consider her answer; if possible that is even more alarming.
> "M-Master, I... I miss my p-parents. I miss w-where I grew up. I miss - not being s-scared. But..."
> You feel a puff of breath on your back, and then the soft brush of her coat as Mocha nuzzles between your shoulderblades.
> "I don't want to leave you. You've been good to me. I'm not scared with y-you. And my other pony f-friends here too. I wouldn't want to leave them."
> Even more softness on your back; you get the feeling she is practically half-laying on it now.
> "I-If I ran away... I'd n-never have a home again. A-And you'd have to p-punish me-"
> For the first time she seems to have trouble speaking.
> "-if I c-came back."
"Would you want to be free, though?"
> "Master, I... I don't know what I would do. It's - I'd - if I went with them, I'd have no place. To work, to live... You're good to me. Even if you might have to p-punish me, I want to stay with you."
"I see."
> The awkward silence that falls between the two of you is only broken when Mocha nervously tries to change the topic:
> "C-Could you roll over, Master? I'm just about d-done with your back."
> So you do, lifting your head up just enough to take at look at her:
> She wears her typical 'work' outfit - lacy dress included, albeit without the leggings that would have interrupted her immediate task.
> Catching your gaze, Mocha Cream flushes a touch - and then a bit more when you give her a warm smile.
"Well, at least there's one pony here I know I can rely on."
> "Master!"
> Her squeak is somewhat drowned out by your laugh as you lay your head back down.
> Soon her hooves come to rest on your temples.
> Carefully using her frogs. she sets to work on your scalp and forehead.
> "...b-but I'm happy the announcement I made did go well."
"About the lottery? It did? Excellent! Would've been better if it came before those protesters showed up so it didn't look like I was trying to buy back ponies from them, but it is what it is."
> Not that it would matter who really won.
> For a few spots, at least, you had a list of particular ponies in mind.
> Ones who could help quash any thoughts of rebellion if they did come back.
> "I-If there's something else I can m-mention to you, Master? As long as we're talking about going out-"
"Hmm? Go ahead, of course. Do you want to go on the trip out too?"
> "N-No! Um, well, maybe. But that's not the reason why."
> Her hooves switch to your shoulders, working them over one at a time.
> Ever once in a while you can feel her side brush against your head.
> "Miss Megan mentioned to me that she wanted to go-"
"Well, I don't know how doable that will be, since we're probably going to be doing this during the day when she's at school-"
> "-into the camp more."
> Oh.
> Well, that wouldn't be too bad, right?
> "With Flurry Heart."
> ...okay, maybe you'd have to think about it.
> "And not so many g-guards around."
> Oh hell no.
> From Mocha Cream's tone, she's already guessed your reaction.
"Mocha, did Megan get you to ask me about this?"
> "No, Master..."
"Mocha...."
> "She didn't!"
> Despite your pointed tone, her protest sounds genuine.
> Yet a moment later Mocha goes on:
> "I... I overheard something she was saying. A-About how if I was being brave enough to go in with Miss Cadance, then she could too. But that nopony wants to talk with her when there are so many guards or Miss Cadance following her around."
> Must've gotten a taste of playing with ponies when you took her to see the museum, and now your daughter wanted a bit more.
"That's a very risky thing, though. You would know."
> Mocha flinches, enough that the edge of her hoof digs into your bare skin.
> "Yes, M-Master. I do know. That's why I'm t-telling you."
> Ah, you'd misjudged her reasoning.
> "B-But... what you told me is true for her too. If she's supposed t-to eventually be our Mistress some day too, she has to start somewhere..."
> Not at the cost of her safety, though!
> And with these protesters maybe riling ponies up now...
[Choice]
"Maybe..."
> You sigh, feeling Mocha's hooves pause on the back of your head.
"...maybe with some escort. Not specifically a guard, but definitely someone I trust. Closely. And even then, I'd want her to keep to open places."
> "Yes, Master..."
> No doubt Mocha Cream understood exactly why you'd be so alarmed.
> Yes, your ponies had been far more passive once you'd properly dealt with the problematic ones who'd been egging them on.
> But that didn't mean you didn't worry that some others wouldn't be able to resist the urge to try something...
> Stupid.
"Yeah, I think I can do that. Soon Megan will be old enough she can start going on her own. I forget sometimes, it won't be too many years now..."
> Mocha Cream giggles softly.
> "She is a very nice young girl, isn't she Master?"
"Yes, she most certainly is."
> The moment her hooves leave your skin, you sit up - and before Mocha can pull away, reach out to grab her.
> Plopping the little maid-pony down in your lap, you look down at her with a wide smirk.
"And you're being awfully thoughtful for her, aren't you? I mean, if she didn't really ask you to do this..."
> Squeaking, she flushes up all over again and curls her forelegs defensively over her chest.
> "M-Miss Megan is very, very kind to us. I c-couldn't let her... she wouldn't ask you herself..."
> You might've gone a bit pale there.
> Was she getting to the rebellious age already?!
> God, you were not ready to deal with that.
> Restless ponies were one thing, but a recalcitrant daughter was a whole different matter!
> "Master? Did I-"
"No, no!"
> Slipping a hand beneath her chin, you start to scratch through the creamy hair along her throat.
> Mocha gives a little whinny and rolls her head back with eyes half-closed.
"No, I'm just... it's one of those things you'll understand when you have a child, Mocha."
> "O-Oh."
> Chuckling at her reaction - she'd barely been able to mumble out the single word - you keep scratching.
"Actually I kind of understand why she'd be afraid to ask me. After all, I once yelled at her for just going over to the security building... so, yeah. No, I'll go have a calm talk with her and we can figure out who will escort her."
> Fingers continuing to ripple through Mocha's coat, you ponder - and quickly realize there's a pony you know very well.
"Mocha, what do you think of Mayor Mare? You must've worked with her once or twice now?"
> "If.. ah, I... um, I can..."
> You pause your fingers long enough to let her gather some thoughts.
> "M-Mayor Mare is... a very stern pony, Master. But, um, very nice as well. She, um... I sort of remember a teacher I had before..."
"I get it. Go on?"
> "She reminds me of Miss Periwinkle. Like, she's knows exactly what she wants to happen, Master, but will help us get there."
> That does sound rather accurate to her, yes.
> Mayor Mare had never shared such a close administration with you as Cadance did, even before the alicorn had arrived.
> But then, you'd been a lot more distant then - and even so, she'd been a top-tier administrator.
"So, she can control my daughter then."
> "Oh, yes."
> Mocha giggles again, smiling up at you from her upside-down position.
> "I think she will.
"But will the other ponies respect her? If it comes to a conflict and she has to shut them down."
> "If I c-can give my opinion, Master, yes. I think maybe she reminds them all of their teachers."
> Or maybe, you think, their mothers.
> Not that you're going to say that; it was enough to have Mocha Cream reminded of her lost family once per day.
"It's settled, then - Mayor Mare. One or two times, at least - I wouldn't want to pull her away from her work too often. After that we can see about others."
> ...
> You walk back and forth in front of the eight ponies, eyeing them cautiously.
> Each, in turn, regards you with something of a cautious gaze as well.
> Some are familiar faces:
> Those who'd been selected to 'win' the lottery, over Cadance's objections, and join you on the trip in.
> From the look Bon Bon was giving you, it seemed pretty clear she understood that she'd been deliberately selected.
> Crescent Moon's look wasn't much better, though she also has a look of curiosity about her.
"...alright, I assume you understand why you're here."
> "Cadance did explain some of it, yes."
> Another hoof tentatively rises.
> "Not me, Master?"
"Ah, I don't recognize you - you're new, yes?"
> "Y-Yes, Master."
"Well, that's fine. The others can fill you in on the finer details, but the gist of it is this: We're going to be heading into the city to pick up some even newer additions. Your job is to help them up to the truck, calm their fears, and introduce yourselves - make them understand there's no need to panic, they aren't going to some hellhole to be worked to death."
> "W-We'll be riding with you, Master?"
"On the way in. On the way back, you'll be in the truck. Needless to say, I expect good behavior while we are out there. For your sakes', and for the sake of not creating trouble for your fellow ponies, please think twice before anything stupid."
> Bon Bon gives you an expression that sneers defiance.
> If she was planning anything, words alone would not stop it.
> Pausing in front of her, you lean over to loom above her:
"Remember. This is for their sake; if this doesn't work out, we'll simply skip it in the future."
> Of course she doesn't back down, but you can see the cogs turning in her head.
> Standing back up, you turn to the rest of them:
"On the way out, we'll be in the van. Back in, you'll ride in the truck with the other ponies. Okay, c'mon - let's get mounted up."
> The van itself isn't exactly luxury.
> But it's still far more than most of them have experienced, and you can hear soft mutterings of wonder as they climb into the seats in back.
> One of the ponies is even so bold as to take the passenger's seat-
"Sorry, but-"
> You look over, and narrow your eyes:
> Meeting your gaze evenly, Bon Bon adjusts her position in the seat but remains pointedly unmoving.
> ...you know what, fuck it.
> Leaning to bring your head near, you hiss in whisper,
"If you try anything, it's going to cost these ponies too. You understand that, right?"
> "I'm not an idiot. We're not idiots. Nopony is going to try anything."
> On any other day you'd have at the very least assigned her an extra work shift for that degree of sass.
> But not today.
> Today there's a little voice whispering in your ear that if anyone needed to be reminded of how life could be outside your walls, it was this mare.
"Okay. Seatbelts on, everyone. Let's head out."
> Before you even reach the highway, however, you're treated to an unfortunate discovery:
> The protesters had either noticed you were about to leave, or migrated to more than one location.
> A fact revealed when you turned a corner to come face to face with walls of angry, chanting people and even the odd pony - fists raised to wave, signs shaken like a batter getting a ready to wind up for the swing.
> Voices rise, loud and clear in unison chanting promises of freedom - and retribution.
> For a moment you aborting this quest; the tractor-trailer could come to make the delivery on its own.
> Avoiding them would be to let the protesters win, though, and the police chief had told you they were receiving guidance from some larger organization.
> In that case, you'd take a gamble.
> Setting your face in a stony expression, you fix your eyes forward and tap the gas.
> Not speeding, but not slowing for them either.
> What you couldn't stop, though, is how the ponies in the back crowd up to the windows - noses pressing to the glass and staring out in awe.
> Some of the protesters reach out with grubby hands extended towards muzzles and hooves.
> But, as you'd expected, none dare touch your car.
> It's still a frightening experience - not unlike what it must have felt like to be in a castle under siege.
> Besieged by angry voices and stomping feet.
> When you finally pull away from the last of them you release a breath you hadn't remembered holding.
> From the passenger's seat, Bon Bon pointedly smirks.
> You ignore her.
> The rest of the ride into the city is uneventful.
> Much like how Cadance had little reaction to the streams of traffic clogging the highways, these ponies seemed almost uninterested.
> Little bursts of conversation come up behind you, sometimes in hushed tones and sometimes open and aloud.
> But also like Cadance, once you hit the city proper they go quiet.
> If anything the reaction is even more striking than hers had been:
> Every time you glance in the rear-view mirror it seems as if they've huddled into a tighter ball at the center of the van - as if to put the maximum space possible between themselves and this strange, fearsome world that now imposed on them.
> Not Bon Bon, though:
> Her expression is a hard, flat one - and eyes almost seeming to see beyond the streets you travel down.
> Past the ponies struggling under heavy loads, through the dolled-up mares strutting happily at their owners' sides, passing over the ones cringing back as their owners lifted a finger to furiously lecture them.
> When you lower the window to let the cacophony of sounds join in her ears slam down and back to either side of her head.
> As if that could block it all out.
> The tables had now turned; it was a taste of the rest of the world and she was just as besieged by its hostility as you had been.
> You can't help the smirk that comes to your own face.
> A crack, gunshot-like, rings out and a pony at an intersection's far corner tumbles to the ground - clutching where she had been struck.
> No one stops as her (you presume) owner howls at her.
> Not people, or even ponies.
> They know better than to be involved.
> And-
> "Close the windows."
> Bon Bon's voice is soft enough to hide any tremble in it.
> She can't hide the shuddering ripples running through her coat, though.
"No. We don't need them closed."
> "Shut the windows, now!"
> Head whipping around, you scowl:
"Did you just give me an order?"
> Drawing a shaky breath, Bon Bon half-closes her eyes - and then forces them open again.
> Forces herself to see.
> "Master. Please close the window."
"There's no reason to. It's not that hot."
> "You are scaring them."
> She was right.
> The ponies in the rows behind were even more nervous than before - huddled close together like a pseudo-herd for protection.
> But that didn't mean you missed the real meaning of her statement, or that she had pushed herself to call you Master.
> Clicking your tongue, you let the window roll back up and pull over in the next available parking spot you find.
> Turning as far in your seat as you can, you face the other seven back there:
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to terrify you; things are... different out here. I forget how much different, sometimes."
> Reaching out with one hand, you wait - and after a moment, one of them extends a hoof to touch it.
> No words are spoken, no forgiveness given.
> But they believe you.
> You pull back out into traffic and drive the rest of the way to the market on your own.
> Once the engine is off you turn back to look at the little group:
"Okay, we're going to go in and meet the new ponies. Unfortunately, this business requires I keep you all on a leash as long as we're on premises. Don't worry - I won't be yanking you around. Just - try to stay calm? I know this isn't a pleasant place, but we need to keep going."
> At the end of this your eyes drift to Bon Bon.
> They would follow her lead - but to your relief, she is still too shaky to object.
> Unhappily but without protest she sticks her head out and lets you fasten the collar shut around it.
> In turn, you don't linger on the task.
> No need to turn a victory into a humiliation.
> By the time you emerge up into the proper center of the slave market, you feel like one of those fancy dog-walkers:
> Eight leashes descending from one hand.
> Your phone clutched in the other.
> Once again the little herd sticks close together.
> A few other slave handlers - some obviously enjoying their new purchases wander past.
> Their attention is firmly focused on those ponies - some of them clearly delighted to be leaving the hated market, others far less so.
> It also means that none of the ponies see your phone.
> You hiss softly and shake your head:
“Well… it seems the order isn’t fully assembled yet. We’ll have to wait an hour or two for them to finish.”
> “You’re joking!”
> “Really, Master?”
> “Can we - we go somewhere else?”
> “Yes, please Master!”
> Just as planned - they were already eager to be gone from the market.
> None of them realized that all you’d actually done is show up a couple of hours early.
“Well…”
[Choice]
"Alright. Let's go grab something to eat, if we're going to be waiting that long."
> For their sake, you leave the market before seeking out a restaurant.
> No need to keep them in that place too long; they'd have plenty of chances to see it when you got back.
> Besides, you'd already hammered home the point hard - perhaps a bit too hard.
> Instead you end up standing on the street-corner, phone in hand and ponies clustered around your legs as you search out a suitable eatery.
> Not merely one that wouldn't leave you feeling gross, but one that would tolerate their presence as well.
> Some locations had - rules.
> No ponies, or putting them in back rooms.
> While you'd intended to 'scare them straight', you had a sneaking suspicion that pushing any further would not produce the result you wanted.
> So with a location in mind you clear your throat and drop down into a squat to bring your face nearer to theirs.
"...okay, so there's a decent place to eat about four blocks away. It'll be a little tricky to find a parking spot, but if you don't think you can make it we can go back to the van."
> There's a brief moment of discussion between them.
> Some audible, some in the silent tongue of glances and body-language.
> Eventually one - an unfamiliar face - speaks up:
> "I, um. I think we can walk, Master."
> Murmurs of general agreement are heard all around, and so you reach out to lightly ruffle their mane.
"There's a strong mare. Okay, come on - I'll try and go as fast as I can."
> While the agreement seemed to have been reached by some manner of consensus, their hurried pace and the way they huddle in a bunched-up group on the sidewalk suggests that it wasn't entirely a comfortable one.
> It isn't helped by the confused, jealous, and sometimes sneering glances shot in their direction by passers-by.
> So many ponies walking with a single person still stretched the limits of normality even in a city used to equine laborers.
> In contrast, your little herd was torn between the desire to huddle up into a defensive clump and the wish to see more.
> Some - Bon Bon - walked ahead with heads raised proudly and eyes fixed ahead.
> Others kept their eyes and ears sweeping over the surroundings but stayed closely locked together.
> Paused at an intersection and waiting for the change of a signal, however, Crescent Moon suddenly detaches herself from the side of the group to wander a short distance.
> You don't notice until the leash goes taut.
> When you do, your expression hardens as you follow her gaze.
> Heavy music thumping out of the club wouldn't mark it as particularly remarkable.
> Everything else, however...
> A pegasus gyrates on a pole just beside the door, using wings and hooves alike to twirl herself on the post as if she were in mid-air.
> Further inside, you can glimpse a stage set up with a small crowd gathered around it despite the early hour of the day:
> A pair of ponies occasionally prance about on it - one with reigns flowing from the bridle she wore and crop clutched between her teeth, the other bearing a saddle laden with so many straps it seemed a miracle she could move in it at all, let alone with as much grace as she did.
> Even as you watch they pause to accept bills offered up by the audience and a second bridle - this one bearing a bit instead of reigns - is produced to be mounted on the other pony.
> Crescent Moon takes this display in with a measure of both fascination and disgust.
> You quickly move to cut her off, but Bon Bon is already at her side - teeth taking a light grip on her mane to pull the younger mare away.
> "Come on. That's... not something you need to see."
> It's another block before any of the other speak; the silence had been so complete you'd almost thought they had missed it.
> "How... is that allowed?"
"Loophole. Strictly speaking, ponies aren't considered human for the purposes of a lot of laws... including public decency ones, what with you not wearing clothes most of the time and all. Try to stop that, and they'd have to order every single pony to cover up."
> Some towns, you knew, had in fact tried to do exactly that.
> In this one, though...
"Too many people are making good on it."
> The restaurant you'd selected turns out to be a middle-class kind of place with a vaguely middle-eastern aesthetic.
> You're glad you'd opted for a more casual jacket on this trip; it kept you from looking out of place.
> ...mostly.
> Eyebrows still rose when the ponies followed you in.
> Yes, the door had a red hoof-sticker plastered in the window beside it - an indication of a restaurant that would do business with ponies.
> And yes, a few other were scattered around the tables - eating with their owners, waiting with bored expressions for meals they were not part of to be finished, or in one case apparently alone - but none so many as were with you.
"Yeah, hey, if you can I'll be needing a table for..."
> You glance back and grimace.
> Maybe this hadn't been the best idea.
"...nine."
> "Just give us a moment to shift some tables, and we'll have seats for you, sir!"
> Okay, maybe not such a bad idea.
> Once seats have been provided, you sit down in the first and motion your ponies over.
> They come nervously, noses twitching and distracted by the smells of so much food all around them.
> With swift motions you unclip the leashes from their collars and roll them up to be put aside.
"Here. There's no need for these while we're eating; I trust you'll all behave."
> A few look surprised, some even managing a murmured 'thank you Master'.
> You're gratified to see Crescent Moon among those; Bon Bon, however, merely gives you a flat look as she passes in front of you before shaking out her curly mane to hide over the remaining collar as best she can.
"Alright, take a glance over the menus and see what you want."
> Orders come soon enough, and unsurprisingly they all opt for vegetarian options.
> You get a shawarma and yogurt platter, because fuck it - that stuff is good.
> Setting the menu aside, you lean back in your chair and glance around the table.
> The ponies were still obviously nervous, but markedly less so now that they were safe within one single space.
> Reaching out, you let your hand find the nearest one to you and rest it reassuringly on her withers.
"It's okay now. I know this place can be... intimidating, to say the least, but no one can hurt you while you're with me."
> After a moment the pony in question lifts her eyes to you and gives a shaky nod.
"Seeing what you did when we were coming in... I know, it can be a bit of a shock. To be slapped in the face with just how hard it can be for one of you, even out here."
> "I thought..."
> The mare draws a shaky breath, closes her eyes, and let is out before reopening them in an almost meditative fashion.
> "...I thought - it'd be easier. If we - I wasn't locked behind the fence. If I could get out. But it's everywhere, everywhere! And I don't..."
> She breaks off her thought with another little shudder.
> "We all did."
> "Yeah. Master-"
> Crescent Moon bites her tongue a moment, then finishes:
> "-do we have to wear the leashes?"
"I'm afraid so. In the market, at least."
> "On - on the way back, can we not?"
> Glancing at the pile of temporarily-discarded leashes where you'd left them.
> "I hate the feeling of it. I've always hated it, but after I was - my bunk - after I was punished for hitting the guard..."
> When she'd been chained to her bunk at night, yes.
> That had been part of her sentence, hadn't it?
> Spotting your hesitating look, Crescent Moon averts her eyes.
> "...nevermind."
"No - you know what, if you promise to stick close to us, you don't need to wear the leash. But, you really have to stay close. Is that okay?"
> Immediately Crescent's expression slights up again, ears popping back up and a smile creeping onto her lips.
> "Yes! I'll stay as close as I can!"
"That'll be fine, then."
> With any other pony, you'd be... alarmed.
> But Crescent, despite her past, had proved helpful even if she'd once suffered through a whipping and more.
> That was why you'd had her selected to come along on this trip:
> A pony that seemed to have her head in the right place, even if she'd faced a not-insignificant punishment.
> Perhaps the opposite of Bon Bon, who'd been a persistently hostile figure and who you'd hoped would be broken by the experience.
> However, you find there's nothing of the sort happening.
> At least she had settled for just looking away from you rather than starting any arguments, although that still suggested there was something boiling beneath her surface.
> "Master?"
> One of the other ponies - a face you weren't quite so familiar with - had hesitantly spoken up:
> "Is - are - are all cities like this?"
"In all honesty, that depends. Some are better - that pony getting whipped, some cities have rules about that sort of thing happening in public-"
> But not against it happening at all, something you're sure they will pick up on.
"- and others, the leash laws go outside specific businesses and onto the streets too."
> "O-Oh... um... that wasn't what I wondering about, though."
> Reaching out across the table, you hold it palm-up in a gesture of openness.
"It's okay. What's your name?"
> "Ocean Wave, Master."
"Well, Ocean - it's okay. There's no hard limit on the number of questions you can ask."
> "I just meant... is there anywhere we're not like, animals? Not treated like - dogs, or toys? Somewhere we can be like..."
> His eyes drift, and you follow them - back, to the rear of the restaurant where a pair you had missed earlier is eating.
> A colt, resting on the lap of a young woman without a collar or apparent concern.
> Each of them at from separate plates, and their conversation while indistinct was clearly friendly - broken by occasional bouts of distant laughter. 
> You were almost thankful for the distraction.
> It gave you time to plan out the delicate wording to answer Ocean's perilous question.
> Because the truth was, there were places that were-
> Well, 'equal' isn't exactly right; national law and all that.
> But better.
> States that did have better protection - the whole reason fleeing ponies tended to head east.
"..in the end, what really matters is who your owner is. A bad owner can still be bad and a good owner can still be good, wherever you are. That's why I try to make things easier on you, let you all work a little independently."
> "Why you're letting us look for our families?"
"Exactly! And why I want you here helping the new ponies coming in understand that as well."
> With that, conversation seems to open up a bit.
> Their fear - or any anger at your stunt with the windows - has faded, and willingness to talk rises in its place.
> Other fears, or hopes for things that might come to the camp.
> Ocean Wave, perhaps unsurprisingly, wants a pool.
> You tell him it can't be a promise, but maybe if the camp voted it as their next big project after the museum then you could consider it...
> By the time the food finally arrives, they barely even notice the meatier contents of your meal.
> When it is finished, you decide it's time for a bit of a test.
"Alright. I'm going to go to the bathroom real fast; all of you will stay here, right?"
> An echo of low 'Yes, Master' repetitions goes around the table, and you stand to go with barely a glance back.
> Some of them might know that the collars they're wearing are networked and fleeing would do no good in a city this dense, but others would not.
> Or just be mad enough to try anyhow.
> With that in mind, you head into the bathroom not that much worried.
> If the understanding that you were a more reasonable owner was strong enough, there would be no trouble.
> If not-
> Barely have you zipped up again when sounds of a low scuffle burst from outside.
> The door keeps the voices muffled, and you barely have you taken a step towards it when the door flies open and Bon Bon bursts in - head low and nostrils flared, ready for an argument.
> Somewhere back behind her, a voice calls:
> "Bon Bon, no, don't-"
> Then it is shut, leaving you alone with an angry mare rearing up to plant a hoof on your chest.
> Damn, you'd forgotten how tall they can be when reared back and angry!
"What the hell are-"
> "You!"
> Her voice is hissed through gritted teeth.
> "How dare you? Terrifying them, and putting on a big smile and pretending you're better than that!"
"You will take your hooves off of me!"
> "Oh, what are you going to do? Beat me? Where they can all hear you? See what you do and know you’re not any better than anyone else they see out here?”
“Bullshit-”
> “You want us to all close our eyes and forget what you are - because what? You don’t whip us in the street? Take us out for food?”
> Leaning in, Bon Bon practically bumps her muzzle to your chin.
> “I saw you smiling, back in the car. It wasn’t enough to scare them, you enjoyed it too! Especially after what you put Crescent Moon through-”
“I damn well was not! I didn’t even mean to scare them, I just didn’t see-”
> “Oh, stuff it ‘Master’. I know what you were doing.”
> Dropping back down onto four hooves, Bon Bon backs away - still glaring fiercely.
> “Maybe you don’t have us dancing up on a stage for those bastards to ogle and jerk themselves off to, but you’re damn well just as bad as them. You’ve just figured out it’s easier for you to let someone else be the monster so you can pretend you’re better.”
[Choice]

Continued in Part 4: https://pastebin.com/c7MkyAhd