MLP – United We Stand: The First Reunion
Chapter 2:
- Gambler -
An MLP fanfic, by Reculverin_Alchemist.
Dear Union Whip. Nothing personal, but I don’t want anything in common with the likes of you. You’ve literally smothered my own mother to the grave, and with such luck I’m having right now, I’m the next one. I’m not going to write any more letters than this one. Back off.
- No longer your daughter, Fallacy Logic.
The old-looking, classical, yet strangely new tavern inside Baltimare felt like a chance for me. Always, the one thing drawing me to other places are simply odds and ends. Those exist for ponies that aren’t masters of gambling to bet on pure chance. For ponies like I am? They’re just another part of our lives, we determine if folding or betting on something is worth more.
I could clearly see a set of mares sitting on the tables, having some card game. Two (a blue mare with violet mane and a cyan one with white mane) seem to lose their bits to the third (navy coat and yellow mane, with blue wave as a cutie mark), who seemed to play a little off for me. As somepony who embraces randomness and accepts that unfairness, creating one just to profit from cheating is a no-go for me. I decided to go and sit on a flat cushioned seat.
I am myself a lemon-coloured pony with a lime, curled mane and turquoise stripe in the middle of it. My eyes are blue (and not lime), as a difference from other ponies that have their eyes generally match their manes. With no time to lose, I decided to do my trickery on a cheater.
- “It appears like your skill is quite good. But if I can spice it up, then I will do it.” - The pony seemed to accept that challenge of mine. He does not yet understand he fell into a fallacy - as everypony can see, I am a known mare there, not just for Las Pegasus poker skills, but for many other luck-based games - set of dice, and the likes.
- “Whopony is she, that mare does mean business.”
A fellow Earth Pony mare to my left had a valid point about me. I may play for sport, but I’m not watching idly - I will do what it takes to rip the logic into a mess of fallacies. Obviously, dealing me a deck of three and six, visible in a split second to everypony, it felt like a cheap trick. Good thing I usually don’t put more than fifty bits per game, unlike other players. I faked strength with all the confidence, so the cheater would feel like I’m just like those two.
- “Ahem, I think you do underestimate me, ma’am. Five bits.”
- “Seven bits.” - I made a snarky response, with other mares betting the same. Three cards were dealt. No matches.
- “Ten bits.”
- “Twelve bits.”
- “Fourteen bits.” - I decided to match the bid there. When you gamble, you should stay close to a multiple of seven for two deals, then a multiple of twenty five for the third round. Sure enough, she tried to cheat me out by getting me to bid… twenty six. Little he knew I had planned to overestimate on purpose.
- “Forty bits.” - I kept ten bits out of her sight, which sure enough, did work. And I did lose those forty as expected. To a ‘royal ace’. I’m not sure if it was indeed a Royal Ace itself, but I saw that one of those cards was inked. Now time for enacting the plan. The mare knew the commission was three bits each, and she dealt me a weak set so she could bleed me out on folds on purpose. Then I made a bet. - “All in.” - And I looked at how she shuffled the cards. Yeah, she didn’t look like a professional, more like a newbie that harassed poor mares.
- “And then the next thing you’re gonna do is take the rest of my bits.” - And that cheat was blatant enough that she just took all the bits to herself without revealing all the cards. Four rather than five, and she declared a… winner because we allegedly collectively folded, despite us still playing.
- “And then the next thing I’m gonna do is take the rest of your bits-wha-?” She didn’t catch on to my prediction, which drew the anger from the cheater, and puzzled expressions on the other two. They could not see the problem there - I played legitimately, with no ink to change card meaning. The mare didn’t catch on, getting up on the table, just exposing herself more as just an impatient, cheaty mare. - “YOU. DARE. TO MOCK. ME? By guessing how that will go!?” - I didn’t feel intimidated by a pegasus one bit, just smiling incessantly, even as she was about to kick me. I had my own reaction ready. And soon after she did try to buck me straight in the face, I let her hit me, and quickly dropped to the ground, faking a fainted pony. Us, earth ponies, need more than that to faint. - “Hmmph, probably just another rat from the royal guard who just knew about my plans a bit too shallowly.” - Little she knew, I didn’t plan to use this facade for long.
- “From the royal guard, eh? Be my guest. For your information, I cracked your logic behind those primitive fallacies.” - I spat on the ground and got up, giving the pegasus a hefty kick on the underbelly, as heavy as it can be. - “First, your cheating is a bit too visible.” - They collapsed, and it gave me time to take the backpack off her. - “Second, you seem to have an anger issue whenever you see the player unmask you.” I put it on the table so the other two mares could see, as I put the evidence of cheating outside. A pen, a blood pen, weighted dice, set of sixty cards (usually we play 56 cards, 2-10, Wonderbolt, Joker, Guard, Princess, Queen), so this did give the other two suspicions that I had mocked her for the right reason. - “Third, there are four extra cards to give you a boost in the odds against the rest of us.”
- “Waterbolt, you dirty cheater! We thought you would play it fairly!” - The mares took away their share of bits, I took fifty remaining. Then I looked at the pegasus mare that was trying to get something from a non-existent saddlebag.
- “Rats! Stupid Earth Ponies and their dirty tricks! They took my saddlebag!” - The pegasus cried, and I spat out again.
- “It’s right on the table if you had wanted to notice it. And I bet the next thing you’re going to do is threaten me with something you have in the bag!”
She did indeed notice it, and shuffled about its contents… for a revolver. It seemed like it was quite large, having five round chambers and made of steel with wooden handling. Urk, this was a lot more threatening, even for my predictions, as I had no intentions to use any. I left my own at home, a silver-coloured revolver with a cotton-covered copper handle.
- “So, your predictions are indeed right, but they aren’t backed by a proper weapon! Well, you can return my hard-earned bits, or you can kiss it goodbye~”
- “Bartender, Waterbolt’s threatening a mare!”
So I did have to raise my hooves, but not for long. She was then approached by a bartender, a black pony stallion with yellow mane, orange reverse V-symbol in the middle of it..
- “Ma’am, it’s forbidden to threaten taverngoer ponies. Drop the gun and leave the tavern before I call the royal guards.”
I just had enough luck to collapse again before the bullet harmlessly passed through air (I think that’s because ponies aren’t supposed to stand on hind hooves only, and even for me, the trick with raised forehooves was hard as it is). And yet, the mare was relentless with the taunting.
- “It’s suddenly forbidden to shoot them? Come on! The guards would only walk, give her a funeral and then leave!” - I was getting tired of her taunts, so I took a low sweep at her, and then got up on my fours, menacingly looking at the cheat. - “No value of- AAAAAAGH!”
- “Allow me to teach the dirty mare a lesson.” - I smiled calmly to the bartender pony, before looking at the pegasus. - “As for you, cheating mare, be lucky the bullet didn’t hit anything.” - I knocked the pegasus out with a well-placed kick and threw them on a bench outside the bar, before trotting back in and sitting on a cushioned seat behind the counter. - “All right, all done, she won’t have any crazy ideas right now because she is out cold.”
- “Ah, m-ma’am, that was quite unnecessary, I c-could help with t-that myself, and risk n-no one’s lives there.” - The stuttering meant that he needed help, though.
- “I think you should invest in a few bloke ponies then, if you find my actions unnecessary.” - The bartender stallion nodded, but no offense there, I don’t feel like it with him. Nor any other stallions.
- “U-understood m-ma’am. Anything y-you’d want t-then?” - The pony behind the counter said, as I was about to remember a situation that defined me.
- “Yes. A strong beverage. I’m about to tell you what her actions reminded me of.” - The barpony did use an apple cider as a base, but a few strong juices were added in.
- “I call it ‘Earth Hammer’, it can make even the sturdiest Earth Pony hammered after two.” - I hooved fifteen bits to the bartender, and took it down the hatch.
- “So… where to start, then.” - I started remembering the events from the past, just when the lamp was emptied.
Sixteen years ago, in Appleossa.
I was just a young filly those days, looking for adventures like everypony would. Like everypony back then, I had a blank flank, a will to gain a cutie mark and maybe six years of my life to back me. Playing it a bit riskier always could be a recipe for a bruise or two, but I took even that sacrifice as necessary for that goal. Sometimes I tried pulling a stunt on the stage, but no cutie marks in acting. Sometimes it was trying to protect another filly. If I had a cutie mark in one, the plot probably could’ve been avoided, but no, Celestia did not make my destiny as a protector either. But I had a lot of luck with getting away with things that would hurt a filly that wasn’t me and a knack on cracking logic behind the actions.
That’s probably why my own father, Union Whip - which was a tan-coated stallion, an Earth Pony just like me, with an ashen mane, green eyes, and a curved whip cracking to the left as a cutie mark - felt like my fate probably would be detective. It wasn’t. It began in the heatwave when my own mother, Fallen Leaves (an orange Earth Pony with long, yellow mane, red eyes and colorful leaves as her own cutie mark) told me to fetch something from the saloon - a keg of apple cider, to quench our thirst. She entrusted me with ten bits of pocket money then, something I was trusted to spend well. Then, I was the only one able to carry it, although I’d need a wheel cart tied to my back for that. I enthusiastically trotted towards the highest building doubling as a resting place for foreigners.
Back then, a filly like me, found the concept of having a cutie mark more important than doing my job. For the curious ponies, yes, I did watch how ponies played their games. Probably more enthusiastically than the old, boring revolver training or evidence seeking. The chance just felt like a spirit that I couldn’t simply ignore. I didn’t know how I would sneak into a game after all, but apparently some ponies looked for a challenge. I took it as one as well, and somehow attempted to sound more serious. Ten bits. Exactly that was an entry requirement for me to get started.
Luck was on my side, as the dice seemed to more often than not roll in my favor. Also given that I had been watching other ponies, and I had my first victory. Tripled the bit amount. Again. Tripled it again. Again. Ended with the amount I probably couldn’t imagine, and a flash from my flanks. I was apprehended by an adult, but rather than with anger, they… smiled.
- “You’re going to have many successes on your path, but let me give a word of warning.” - The smile suddenly became a slight frown, as he looked at my flanks again. - “Avoid going all in next time we meet. If you ever do it, young filly, it’s a recipe to lose it all.”
I didn’t understand it all, but I did nod, and asked the bartender for a keg of an apple cider. It did definitely cost me more than the ten bits I had from my mother… and at that point I just felt like I had a good gut feeling. With a new cutie mark, a keg of apple cider and a new confidence to share it with my brother and mother, I moved into my home, with the earnings and keg on the wheelbarrow.
- “Leafie! Eye! Look!” - My mother suddenly put me in the wardrobe, frowning at something. I thought it was just because she wanted to make it a surprise? But the words were ominous.
- “F-fallacy… d-don’t show yourself near y-your daddy, f-for me, all right?” - The premise was silly, as I thought that she merely wanted to not come until she signals me. But the next part was when I felt panic in her words. - “H-he… he had shooed B-Blazing L-Leaves after A-Absolute B-Blaze got a-a cutie mark in an i-illegal race…”
That’s probably been a bad omen. I barely knew either, but from what she did tell me, they were a mare and a filly, both caramel-coloured with flame-like manes. The only difference was with their cutie marks. The older one had burning leaves on her flanks, the younger one had a fiery horseshoe, apparently.
A few heartbeats later, my father came home, surprised. - “Okay, I can’t believe there are so many bits there, besides the keg from somewhere. Fallen Leaves, I want an explanation for that.”
- “Union Whip, that’s because our F-Fallacy just had found a treasure?”
My mother was a bad liar, as this raised his suspicions. - “Okay, so I trusted you with upbringing my children, I hope what you say is true, Fallen, because your name is going to be literal if you won’t raise her into a decent mare.” - He suddenly opened the cabinet, me falling off it, as I used the doors for supporting my own weight. He just stared at the flanks of mine, before going somewhere, and back. That’s when my flanks seared from the pain my own dad inflicted the first time.
- “I THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD AT LEAST BE DECENT ENOUGH TO BE A TREASURE HUNTER! But no, you just had to get that mark! Shame on you two!” - He repeated it, with me, each time it hit, backing closer to the corner, with tears of pain starting to flow from my eyes. - “I give you an ultimatum there, Fallen. Either you discard her personally, or raise Bullseye to give a challenge enough to put her to the end. And I’m not going to have any mercy as long as that rascal filly is living in my house!”
I didn’t know why, but the next blow on my head knocked me out and affected me. Somehow. It could be that I became a bit more bitter or less trustful of my father or whatever. But three years that followed was a personal Tartarus for both me and Fallen Leaves. I had to run somewhere sometimes to cope with the pain, and the solution presented itself as Clear Sky, about to be a prospector in Appleossa in thirteen years. His blue coat and cornflower mane, with a pickaxe on his flanks later on, were his identifiers. Also my herdmate from the fillyhood, I kept him away from the problems he could face. And he trusted me, but only at that point I let it be mutual. I cried and shared my thoughts to him, after that he put his legs on my neck and hugged me as tightly as he could.
- “F-fally? Uh… you made me feel safe? I… just cannot ignore that y-you’re hurt! T-tell me, who hurts you?”
- “D-dad hurts…”
- “Y-your d-dad?” - I nodded, with him having a stare of shock at both my flanks that were bloodied from one whip too much, and having a set of two and five dice on them. - ”Um… Fally, I c-can’t help you m-much with that. J-just hang on… for me.”
I nodded. Sometimes the colt I was a protector of, was also my go-to for all the venting of tears I had. It was like my father never forgave me about the incident, with him spitefully letting me home just for another round of a whipping. And another. I also saw his own descent into fermented cider addiction. The room he slept in often felt sour just to come in, and in addition to my own flanks barely handling the whips, sometimes my own mother had the punishments hooved to her. He never did the same to my younger brother - a tan-coated and purple maned colt, having a pierced practice target in a bullseye as a cutie mark. Often she was crying just like me, promising to smother me. She never did. The closest she came to was when she put a pillow gently on me, then suddenly stopped as she didn’t want to lose me. In my eyes, a true heroine.
My own brother also tried supporting me, but it was clear he did it away from my father in fear of punishment. Sometimes on field trips, sometimes on the orchard. Under the tree was where he made a promise to me, which said that if I was about to be killed, he would disown his own father and shoot him. The revolver I have is the only thing that I have as a memory of him.
Three years later there were no signs of improvement in relations. Worse yet, my father became so unbearable that I had to spend days in saloon rooms and only do my activities while the moon was up despite many superstitions against night wanderers. That’s when Clear Sky rushed towards me, alarmed, in the middle of the night.
- “Fallie! Your pa’s gone utterly bonkers!” - His alarm was believable for me, so I rushed after him, dust trailing behind us, and after arrival, we looked through the lit window, to notice what would break my heart to stallions like my own father even more than he did during three years of abuse I had. Union Whip… he was suffocating Fallen Leaves with a pillow. Smothering her, many terms for the same crime. This time she clearly was looking at me, somehow knowing I was there, as if painfully telling me to run despite barely recognizing me, before she lumped lifelessly. It was really painful, and at first I was scared for my own life. If he took my own birthsmare’s life, he could as well take my own with ease. Before I got my thoughts sorted out, my father was out to get me too, and I began running away, Clear Sky hiding behind something.
- “You insolent, filthy filly! You think that you can keep gambling under my nose and shaming my own family! Stand down, and know your role there!”
I was already starting to get tired, as the stress and the sleepless nights took the toll on my own stamina. I slowed down a bit, after which I felt the rope tightening on my neck, as he would start pulling me back with insanity in his eyes. - “Her her her, Fallacy. Time’s up for fillies like you.” - I wanted to cry, and fight the rope tightening on my neck. I did try to get it off with my forehooves, realizing something. He was… he was actually going to kill me there. He would probably snap my own neck right there, but then I heard a shot from the distance. It was Bullseye, that damn colt of a socked mare that held his part of his promise to me. I didn’t see anything thereafter, as the rope tightened on my neck so much, starved of the air and trying to gasp for air, I followed my mother’s hoofsteps. Miracles… or in my case, just bad luck for Union, happened, as I did wake up eventually… in a cart headed to Baltimare, with Clear Sky looking at me from the other seat. I was… still alive. Trying to brush the suffocation as a seriously bad nightmare, I looked about with confusion.
- “Uh, Fally, y-you okay? Y-you d-didn’t seem b-breathing f-for a w-while… I-I nearly t-took you a-as goner…”
So I was indeed snuffed out like my mother…? (or so I thought. Celestia, who was replacing Luna in my dreams later said that if I was truly dead, even for a moment, she would need to put me into the star’s blanket). I didn’t reply yet, still shocked from the current events. He told me that while he tried to snap my neck, Bullseye tried to interrupt him, paying with his own life as he was the one with a snapped neck, and that he (Clear Sky) first got ropes off my neck, then shook me, hid me behind a building and cuddled me with their hooves, sinking their head into my chest coat, mourning my apparent ‘death’. What I also got was a distaste of my own father, at first disguised as a slight, but a shy laughter.
- “I- heh, I never am gone?” - I wanted to reassure my friend by patting his head. He was probably the closest figure I had to both Fallen Leaves and Bullseye, the only friend left in the cruelty of a chance.
- “S-stop it Fally!” - He would push my hoof back playfully, then breathing out a sigh. - “Anyway um, I guess you know where you are going, right?” - I wasn’t sure what was that cart heading off to yet, so I decided to ask.
- “Where?”
- “Cemetery in Baltimare, looong way away? J-just say you’re visiting my dead grandpa?” - Clear Sky had their relatives there. I bet if I had died there, I would get buried in that city, or at least cremated. In any way, no more Fallacy, but there I am, defying logic and odds. At least I had a hope that after such a distance taken I wouldn’t be spotted by him for all the ponies.
It was a long road to the big city of chances I’m a resident of. I remember that I had seen a lot of different villages, some populated with Earth Ponies, some with Unicorns. One in particular, Revenville, was where we took our second-to-last stop, just a short trot to Baltimare. Leaving our cart, I felt far too shy about the unicorns… or in fact, anypony. That, until one that was a year older than me offered to help.
- “Hey, heyy! We usually don’t have a lot of Earth Ponies in the town, can I really get you around this place?”
Blue mane, gray coat, a will to help… this is Changing Flask, a strangely kind pony at the time I had to stay in Revenville, but now one of my closest friends. He got me around the place, saying where the town center was, taverns, his own guild, and even inviting me to his home. I was not sure how to respond, but he did look at me with cute eyes, so I accepted his offer and trotted to his home. His father was a lot more chill than my own, though he insisted that Flask was Morning Star. Heh, fathers. Never changing their attitude.
- “So, who is she, Morny?”
- “Dad? D-don’t call me Morny! I’m Flask!”
- “F-fallacy… Logic.” - I was the shy one, as the events still didn’t cool down and I didn’t know how I would live with my father being a whip-crazy marekiller.
- “You seem a little bit scared, Fallacy. Anything happened to you?” - His dad also seemed a lot more responsible, in fact, he reminded me of my late mother so much I started crying again.
- “M-mama… gone… papa… pillow my mama… she...” - I’m pretty sure that he did try to comfort me, but I tried not to get caught in the stallion’s hooves, as I couldn't continue the sentence.
- “I know it’s painful to live through betrayal, and even more through a loss. In fact, I had lost my own mare to illness two years after Morny’s birth. I cannot let the stars take away my children, so that’s why I tried to get him a normal job in magic rather than alchemy… but his choice, his flank. Same as you. Your choice, your flank, do not let your father change it.”
- “Dad… choke me…” - I had spoken with a bit more of fear, and he sighed.
- “I guess you’ll have to fight back then. Where are you headed? We have no psycheponies there, I’m afraid.”
- “B-baltimare.” - I revealed the plans, and he nodded with understanding.
- “Baltimare, eh? That’s a small trot away from our village. Be careful, I heard that fillies get lost far too often there.” - I let a small, yet shy smile. He probably won’t find me there.
- “T-thank-!” - I wanted to say, but then another pony, two years older than him and three years older than me came with the soup.
- “Beetroot soup is ready!”
As far as kindness goes, I really didn’t want to abuse it too much. Still, I couldn’t deny a warm meal. This didn’t remind me of anything, somehow. After the time with the family was over, I had to go back to the cart.
- “F-flask, right?”
- “Yes?”
- “S-see you later!”
I let a less shy smile there, before trotting out of the home and into a cart. Maybe the visit to a stranger's family helped a bit for the confidence. This was how I met my first friend that wasn’t from nearby surroundings. Anyway, a day later, we arrived at Baltimare - it felt more like a strange place to me than Revenville and other villages, given that I was always an Appleossan pony. And we visited the communal cemetery first. A lot of headstones. Also strange, considering we just burn our dead ponies in pyres.
- “U-um?”
- “This is just a Baltimare burial for you, Fally. Well, it would be, if y-you indeed died. T-to be one with earth?” - From his tone, it seemed like he didn’t know much about those traditions, and more or less guessed it, but at that time, I trusted him much more than other ponies.
- “Ah. W-where I’ll l-live n-now?” I decided to ask, stuttering from the fear of losing myself in the streets. Maybe that was a herd instinct… maybe just my naivety, but he started trotting alongside me.
- “Ahmm… not sure? The home for mareless f-fillies should be f-five streets away, left, straight, left, left, straight…”
I blindly followed him, not realizing he’s got lost in the streets. They seemed much darker than before. I didn’t like that any bit, given all of it was darkness. And then… thug ponies. One of them had my special attention however, them having a valve as a cutie mark, rust mane and turquoise coat.
- “Huhuhu… little defenseless colt and filly we got there.”
- “Huhuhu. Works well for our goals.”
I didn’t know why I offered to play dice with them, especially with the stallion having a valve. I just… had been pressurized into a bad idea. Well, as my friend thought about my own idea.
- “I… if I win at d-dice, you l-let us go t-to orphanage?”
- “And if we win, you’re ours to raise. Fuhuhu.”
- “F-fally, it… it’s a bad idea, j-just r-run!”
- “Deal then! Hmph!” - I huffed up as seriously as a filly like me would. Mind you, dice were still on my flanks, and I didn’t know much, except that I did it once and won big.
Actually, it was quite easy to defeat those mooks in a dice fight. Maybe it was because I got a good run there, or maybe because they were bad at weighing their rolls. Or maybe because I had the dice on my flanks. Theories aside, they did hold to their promise, and put us in the orphanage.
- “Fair filly wants shelter. Fuhuhu.”
- “Saint Celestia in the skies, Rusty Pipes. You really need to get to a vocabulary school. B-but we’ll take them in. Thanks for your cooperation.” - It turned out that the stallion I fixated my eyes on had a name. It even confused me why he acted that way (and it’s now lost with him).
Orphanage wasn’t really that good, but it was better than my father. Despite that, I had been growing up to be a bit more responsible for myself and Clear Skies, a fellow orphan as I found out. Except that I wasn’t one. I had abandoned my father, my stepmother fled and my mother died there. I couldn’t tell the whole truth, however. I also had written quite a few letters, but never sent them. Probably a mistake there, probably not. Nopony should judge me for that anyway.
Seven months later, some fillies were adopted, some stayed. I was among ones that still were in the orphanage, a part of one pretty small, but tightly knot herd of fillies. And that’s when my father came. Officially to adopt a replacement colt. Little I knew it was to look for me after figuring out where we went. And he did notice me, with him speaking up about me.
- “Also, I need the lemon filly with lime-turquoise mane and a pair of dice on their flank.” - I gulped silently, hoping that they would say no to that.
- “Sure, just a minute.”
So I had to flee after my hopes that the carekeeper would say no for that demand were dashed. I took a letter into my mouth and started galloping, dashing through the streets. My father followed me, and soon after that, I was cornered in a construction site.
- "Why are you fleeing instead of accepting it with dignity!?"
He seemed to demand something, but I found it unreasonable for me. Then, noticing a possible way out, I had climbed up the beams instead, until I had nowhere to go any more. On the highest elevation, on the highest beam, fairly high above ground, it felt like I was literally on the dead end. I’ve never been so scared in my life, and he actually seemed a bit sadistic now to give me a choice again.
- “Either way, you’re screwed now, Fallacy, so give it up. Your little brother only made things worse to save you, the mistake, so I give you a choice. Drop off the building with whatever decency you have left there, or I’ll hang you by the whip. You have time until noon.” - This was only a moment until fate would seal for me. The shadow was almost at their shortest, but… I didn’t plan my own life just to throw it away to appease his lack of remorse. In fact, whatever anger boiled inside my veins, it decided to erupt inside me. I glared at him.
- “Y-you…you aren’t my father! Y-you are a m-mommykilling m-monster! YAHHHH!” - I decided to rush in and headbutt him to make him flinch and get him arrested for being a marekiller. What I didn’t know is that he… he actually held me with the rope on my hind leg, and started dragging me off the beam after nearly falling. I was holding desperately, fighting against both exhaustion and against my own father.
- “Uh nuh. You think you’re that clever. Well then, so be it. If you’re that desperate to cling on to false hopes, I’ll dash it myself, by getting up and bucking you down to the ground.” - I felt him slowly climbing the rope up, so I had to understand something. I was about to die anyway, but there was still a chance to stop the satisfaction he wanted.
- "Dad... if my life has to end... if I... if I have to s-share my mother's fate... then I won't feel remorse for what I'll do next." - In the end… I let the beam go, slipping away and hoping that if I am going to pass away, so does my father, but also hoping I would be alone in the dreams. I didn’t share the fate of my family, as he made a rough, but effective cushion… or whatever was left of him once I landed. I had broken a few bones and fainted in the process, also having been both exhausted and nearly scared. Also, I never really killed anypony, even by an accident until that moment, not even for revenge or as collateral, so the guilt also weighed in the fainting factor, although not as much as pain, exhaustion and fear.
When I woke up the next day, I found myself in the cell, awaiting a trial. Whatever bones I’ve broken were splintered, and whatever the result was, I was prepared for any sentence, even the worst possible. No one could attend it. It’s clear they’d want it done quickly and efficiently. After six hours I was put before a table for them to interrogate me. I told them the truth. They were shocked to find it out that a filly was nearly murdered by their father, but it was true there. Then the judgment came… and freedom with it. It was because of my story that they believed I was a victim that had to fight back. The letter found beside me was also hard evidence against my father, and for my innocence. I wanted to quickly rush out of Baltimare now, but I still had to say goodbye to Clear Skies. I couldn’t yet.
Another three months later, in the spring season, I looked upon the revolver I received from my fillyhood friend. It still reminded me of a gigantic hole that my own father carved in my life singlehoovedly, but I started to live with it. I coped with it by learning many different gambling techniques, by polishing my fallacy-finding techniques and by trotting in the darkness. But above all, I still had been curious about the one who was kind to me. So I decided to say a goodbye to the orphanage ponies, before tracing my way back through the streets, graves and the paths. I wanted to thank Flask, so I came back to Revenville.
It probably wasn’t what I expected it to look like after a year. The town was eerily empty. A wasteland of ashes, burning and embering (as in the fire having retreated deep inside the wood) buildings and lots of bodies of innocent ponies. I started running after the only track I could see that looked like pony hooves doing those. The only track was coincidentally the one Flask had left. He was in the hut, crying himself and shaking, really badly injured. It was like the only thing keeping him alive was him being nearly burnt. I did my best to comfort him, snuggling him. Knowing that it must’ve been hurtful for him to lose his whole town, including the family.
- “T-tell S-spiral B-blade… chlip… a-about R-revenville… chlip… t-tell t-them about d-dad… chlip… and m-master… chlip…”
- “W-where are they, Flask?”
- “I-in B-baltimare… chlip…”
Our ways separated there. I stayed in Baltimare, he tried to go to Canterlot, but seeing how he’s back in the hut, it means he did not feel accepted there. That, or he missed his old town, despite those being ruins.
As for me? I ventured back to Baltimare, where I told the gravekeeper's apprentice about the massacre. Even when disowned, he felt bad for his father, so he ventured back to Revenville and buried all the bodies. I started gambling as my primary job, and made a living out of it. It was my only redeeming talent alongside my odds determination. I had learnt a lot about the cheap tricks, how to crush the fallacies… and I think I got a liking to mares that lived there instead. As in - no offense - I guess I love mares now. I just don’t like to do it with stallions. Talking? All right, but don’t put me in bed or a season with one. Except for other creatures, but that’d be for another time.
- “Another time, another story, they’d say.”
I finished telling it, and from his flustered expression, he seemed to have tried to bargain with Celestia mentally for me to make an exception for him. No, not even Princesses can change my mind about this one. When I say something, I just fixate myself over that thing. No ifs, no buts. Even if said thing is just my own theory, I still get myself obsessed over that.
- “My, my. A mare like you seems to be a survivor. Too bad you’re not available, ma’am.” - Also from the fact I had somehow told it in two hours, without my head hurting, it means that I had quite a strong head to alcoholic beverages, well enough so I could still stand up straight.
- “Yeah, you got your fallacy straight there. So if you’d please, I have to go, I have a beverage from Flask to collect.”
I spoke with some eloquence, before confidently trotting out the tavern, into the city. It changed a little during the twelve years, more carts, glass and lampposts, less shade and danger. Also no Rusty Pipes, he was caught and executed for fillynapping. I mourned his loss there, but he wasn’t as lucky as me to avoid death multiple times. If he had a shed of luck I had, he would be able to get away, and I could visit him multiple times, even for tea time or a game of dice.
After going to the cemetery and paying respect for the stallion in the far edge of it, I decided to go with the way I always knew. Through the path to Revenville ruins and through the whitestalk plains to Flasks hut. It seems a bit archaic for me, but he said it’d do for him, so I don’t complain about his choice. I knocked on his door with my left forehoof, and the door would open.
- "Hello, Flask-"
- “Ah, Fallacy, I think I remembered something about my past. I think I had put the dragon to sleep when I was about to be killed.” - He would smile triumphantly, but I think he either started forgetting details or whatever. After all, twelve years have passed, he can be forgiven there.
- “Yet at the same time you spoke about the fact that the dragon broke the flask and the potion drained down his neck, causing them to fall asleep so you could escape. Get your facts straight, Flask!” - He might seem like he wants to remember himself as a hero, sometimes he changes his words or narrative if it fits him more. - “He was more likely to stop you from going out on your terms than letting you throw it inside his pipes! You even said it yourself!” - But that could more or less seem like he had problems with dragons, which honestly… I don’t blame him for that. He lived through it, his psyche was out when he nearly died, I still remember the first version he told to me. - “Also, the Bonemender potion. I want to use it on Vitrolic Medicine. She had done that again and pissed a pony too much.”
- “Ah, Vitrolic, Vitrolic… I heard a fair bit about her ambitions. When will she stop trying to copycat me and making the brews that do nothing…” - Flask might have problems with fanmares too, as well. It’s just me who has no problems with any… well, except for Rusty Pipes - he is an example of a fair criminal to me, as much as I don’t want to admit it to my friends. - “Here, take it and rub it on the broken or sprained bones. It would help her recover.”
- “Thanks, Flasky!” - I rubbed his head, him trying to get my hoof off me, but apparently unicorns are weaker than us. - “My best alchemist, hehee!”
- “Stop, Fallacy! You’re going to make me blush there!” - He would say, I would leave the payment on the table so he wouldn’t be able to return it to me.
- “Anyway, I’ll be heading back to Baltimare now! Bye, Flask!” - I started heading off back to my town, back to the home. A new home.
- “Goodbye Fallacy, see you soon!” - His attitude is a heartwarmer, but he probably should see Baltimare from time to time. And now it's off with me, to help my bat friend that helped me cope with the world.
It’s a good thing my father is no more…
…he would’ve ruined it, knowing him.
, oh god, what I'm going to do now? Is that some sort of torture room? I looked around. No Changeling. The two people I don't recognize. One could probably be an supposed enemy soldier, the other - just a civilian. The problem is - I probably am supposed to be enemy soldier to them.
