>Day The Invasion of Florence.
>The first thing you hear are trumpets.
>Distant at first, but with every passing minute they grow closer.
>Then the drums.
>Oh, the drums.
>Pounding rhythmically, incessantly.
>You feel your heart racing.
>They told you that the Venetians were coming, but you didn’t believe them.
>Twice before you were warned.
>Each time, the Florentines were able to beat them back.
>That’s why you didn’t try to hide your few bits of silver and copper.
>You notice you have been scrubbing the same place this whole time.
>One spot on the wooden table gleams much brighter than the rest.
>”That’s enough. There’s no one here.”
>You look up at the familiar voice.
>Marco is beside you, brushing his beard.
“What am I supposed to do?” you ask.
>You’re surprised by the fear in your voice.
>If the Venetians arrive, they will probably kill everyone.
>Who knows what they will do to a pony.
>Your pink coat will probably hide a few slaps.
>Hopefully they won't pull your golden mane.
>Marco doesn’t answer your question as he looks out the window.
>He probably doesn’t know either.
>You place the rag on the table, as Marco walks to the door.
>He stops at the threshold, but doesn’t leave.
>In the opposite direction, you hear a single horn.
>Deeper, louder than the trumpets.
>A few footmen run past the inn.
>Their armor is rough, and poorly fitted.
>Their helmets cast a shadow over their faces, but you already know what they are feeling.
>You rush outside, and Marco doesn’t stop you.
>Instantly you stop, and turn.
>Wordlessly, you ask him if you can see.
>He offers only the slightest nod, before closing the door to follow.
>Together you walk up the street toward the sounds.
>You’re surprised at how many people are outside.
>Their outfits are bright and cheery, though their faces betray their thoughts.
>A few ponies jostle for position.
>Those that can fly are sitting on rooftops to watch.
>Marco sees an opening and pushes through the crowd.
>You follow close behind before the others can fill the void.
>Just as you pass the last person, the music stops.
>On opposite hills, stand the two armies.
>There are thousands of people.
>Maybe, tens of thousands.
>The flags are just as countless.
>Behind you, another pony talks with his friend.
>”Most of them are mercenaries,” the pony says in Equestrian.
>It’s easier to talk freely with Equestrian, because so few people understand it.
>”How can you tell?”
>”Look at their flags.” It takes a moment before he continues. “Swiss, German, Milanese.”
>Again he pauses.
>”What is it?”
>”Those are ponies.”
>You turn around before you can stop yourself.
>He gives you a scowl, but quickly shakes it away.
>With a hoof, he points at the far side of the army.
>”Those are ponies,” he repeats.
>You have to squint, but finally you make them out.
>Sure enough, there are armored ponies on the flank.
>Most carry spears.
>A few men break away from the army and ride their horses toward the Florentines.
>One carries a large flag with a winged lion over a red field.
>On the opposite side, you see the Florentines responding in kind.
>The Fluer-de-lis isn’t quite as impressive as the angry lion.
>You’ve seen it every day.
>All the shops display the flag proudly.
>But today it doesn’t look proud.
>The men stop when they reach the center.
>”This is it. They are delivering their terms.”
>”Our men will never accept them.”
>”Ours now?” The pony bitterly laughs. “We will never be one of them.”
>The Florentine general suddenly pulls on his horse’s reigns, and his men retreat back to their army.
>”So you think Venice will free us?”
>The leader of the Venetians waves his arm, and the music returns.
>Just drums this time.
>His men straighten up and hold their weapons ready.
>The leaders split up among the army, and a trumpet sounds.
>The Florentine horns respond with their own low tones.
>”We should go,” Marco says.
“Why? They haven’t done anything yet.”
>As if on command, lightly armored men rush forward.
>They aim into the sky, and you see a wave of bolts fly.
>The Florentine archers aren’t as fast, and many of them are hit by the crossbows.
>A few men scream in pain.
>You flinch at the sound.
>Arrows fly toward the Venetians, and soon their men are screaming as well.
>The trumpet lets out several notes.
>It plays three times, and pikemen start marching forward.
>They walk through the crossbows, just in time to meet a volley of arrows.
>Their screams and shrieks are almost unbearable.
>Florentine pikemen move to meet them.
>Now you can see other soldiers.
>They carry swords, spears, halberds and other things that you don’t recognize.
>They wait for the pikemen to advance and the crossbows to fire before moving.
>All the while, the boom of the drums urge them on.
>Behind them, you see men with massive swords resting on their shoulders.
>They don’t move.
>Men on horseback change positions, and you can see the ponies more clearly now.
>They wait at the rear.
>”We should go,” Marco repeats.
>You watch as the pikemen approach each other.
>The Florentine men hesitate, but the Venetians keep marching forward.
>”Those Swiss are something. I heard they were fearless.”
>In a few moments, the pikes are nearly touching each other.
>The Florentines stop, but the Venetian men continue.
>More screams, as the pikes finally make contact.
>You feel your lip quivering.
>Your breathing quickens.
>They aren’t going to stop?
>The drums continue beating.
>Marco grabs your withers and urges you to follow.
>You resist for a second, before doing as he wishes.
>It takes a few minutes to return to the inn.
>All the while you can hear the crash of men charging into each other.
>High pitched noises fill the air.
>It almost sounds like when you throw all the silverware together.
>Except you know this is the sound of weapons clashing.
>Marco pours himself a drink, and sits at the bar.
>You move beside him, but he doesn’t budge.
“Can I?” You ask.
>You need something to calm your nerves.
>He nods, and you pour yourself a drink from the cask.
>The sweet taste of cider makes you feel a little better.
>You sit beside him.
>Marco breaks the silence.
>”You should run, Lily.”
>You swirl your drink once.
“Where would I go?”
>”Somewhere. Anywhere. If the Venetians win they will take all the women and rape them.”
>You take a long drink.
”What about the ponies?”
>He turns to you with a frown.
>”Probably the same thing.”
>You examine your cider, before taking another drink.
>He clears his throat.
>”It wouldn’t be for long. Maybe a day or two before you can come back.” He lets out a single laugh. “Well, if there is anything left.”
>You shake your head.
”What about Lemon Drop?”
>”I’m sure she’s gone by now. I don’t blame her.”
>Marco’s sister owns Lemon Drop.
>She helps out when it gets busy, or when you’re sick.
”You’re the only person who has ever been nice to me.”
>Marco pours himself another drink.
>”That’s why I’m telling you to leave.”
“But what will they do to you?”
>He brushes his beard.
>”I imagine they will come in here, look for anything valuable, and then let me go.”
>You press your lips together.
>Why does he think he would be spared?
>As if sensing your unasked question, he answers.
>”I’m an old man. What would they want with me? Besides, I have always lived here.”
>Where would you go?
>Blossom lives only a town away.
>You could go there if you ran right now.
>She could hide you for a few days.
>You would be very quiet.
>Maybe her human wouldn’t even notice.
>But then what will happen to Marco?
>When he bought you all those years ago, you were scared of him.
>His rough hands and thick beard seemed like a warning sign.
>Now… you know better.
“I want to stay.”
>Even as you say it, you wish you hadn’t.
>He shakes his head, but doesn’t respond.
>Instead you both sit quietly and enjoy the drinks.
>This continues for an hour or so.
>Each of you take a drink, and wait.
>All the while, you hear screams and the clash of weapons.
>Finally, a there’s a loud cheer.
>You count three cheers.
>Marco looks up from the bar and smiles.
>The weight on your shoulders lifts.
>You knew those dirty Venetians wouldn’t win.
>Then you hear shouting.
>Your heart sinks.
>You were wrong.
>People run through the streets.
>You hear glass breaking.
>The sound of an axe hitting wood makes you wince.
>That only lasts for a few minutes before there is silence.
>It was probably people running, and taking what they could save.
>The silence has you confused, and you walk outside.
>When you arrive at the main road, you see an army setting up camp.
>The banners are hard to make out, but they aren’t red and white.
>They’re red and yellow.
>The winged lion.
>You slowly go back to the inn.
>What will happen to you now?
>You hope Marco was wrong.
>That you won’t be treated like a plaything.
>When you arrive, the door is wide open.
>Marco pulls down the Florentine flags decorating the room.
>You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he has no choice.
>When he finishes with the last one, he sits behind the bar as if ready to take an order.
>The trumpets come back to life.
>This time other instruments join in.
>It sounds like a victory song.
>Soldiers arrogantly march though the town.
>A few men ride horses slowly, and look at the buildings.
>They point and don’t move aside as others march past them.
>You aren’t sure what will happen next.
>Men walk up and down the streets, but they don’t destroy anything.
>It takes two hours before the first person walks in.
>His face is dirty and you don’t know the flag on his tabard.
>A few others follow behind him.
>”Drink. Three,” he says in very poor Tuscan.
>He lifts three fingers so you will understand.
>Marco pours and you carry over their order.
>The men greedily take their drinks and chug them.
>You crinkle your snout as you catch their smell.
>Blood and sweat.
>This time the man doesn’t bother trying to speak Tuscan, and simply spins a finger around.
>You nod and bow slightly so he can see that you understand him.
>Marco takes the drinks to them.
>It looks like he is congratulating them, but you don’t understand the words.
>Still, the men are smiling and laughing.
>Then something strange happens.
>A pony trots in.
>They cheer and congratulate each other.
>You greet them in Equestrian, and they all order the same thing.
>Lots of cider.
>One of them tries to grab your flank, but you move away the instant he touches you.
>His friends hoot and holler.
>It’s probably best to just ignore that.
>”Need some help?”
>You look toward the voice.
“Lemon Drop? You’re still here?”
>Her purple mane bobs as she nods.
>Her coat is yellow, almost the same color as your mane.
>”I saw the chimney smoke. I figured you and Marco decided to stay, so here I am.”
>”Music! We need music,” one of the ponies shout in Equestrian.
>Before long a couple of the ponies are setting up in a corner.
>The ponies cheer as the band starts off with a traditional Equestrian song.
>After a few songs they hit their stride and the entire bar is singing along.
>Even the people in the back are trying to mouth the words.
>You open more windows as the smell of sweat and blood seems to grow stronger.
>It’s not enough and you go outside for fresh air.
>You take three deep breaths before opening your eyes.
>A man wearing a bright outfit rides up on a horse.
>He is flanked by two ponies riding smaller horses.
>Somehow you never thought you would see that.
>He isn’t wearing armor, unlike his friends, or the ponies inside.
>He probably washed up before coming out.
>In a practiced motion he slides off the horse and walks to you.
>The ponies do the same, but it’s much more awkward.
>He speaks, but you don’t understand his words as he ties the reigns down.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand you.”
>”You don’t understand Venetian?” He asks in Tuscan with a soft accent.
>You shake your head.
“I never learned that.”
>This makes him smile.
>”You should learn. Soon the Doge will conquer all the city states.”
>The ponies by his side are listening, but they clearly can’t understand your conversation.
“That’s what you think,” you say in Equestrian.
>”You’re right. That’s what I think,” the man responds with a heavy accent.
>Your ears perk up.
>You’ve never heard a person say more than one or two words in your language.
“Who taught you Equestrian?”
>He adjusts his sword.
>”It would be hard to lead a company of ponies if I didn’t.”
>He offers you a smile.
“Well, I wish you didn’t. Then all those people would still be alive.”
>One of the ponies pushes you.
>His cutie mark is hidden under his armor.
>”That’s enough out of you.”
>The man laughs as you stumble back.
>”I didn’t realize Florence was so kind to ponies. You actually think you could be one of them.”
>You don’t answer him.
>You just glare.
>After a moment he turns away from you and prepares to enter the inn.
>The two ponies enter first.
>”Now presenting, Captain Anon Ymous.”
>He waits a second before entering to cheers.
>Both arms extend and the patrons become silent.
>”You all fought well today. For that, we will stay here for a few days while we deliver terms to Florence.”
>Again the crowd cheers.
>Anon waves his hand several times before they quiet down.
>”The Doge has seen fit to raise me to Baron for our service. This town, and all around it are now my holdings.” He takes a drink from Lemon Drop. “And for that, tonight is on me.”
>The sounds of laughs and cheers fill the room.
>The men in the back are confused, but a pony tries to explain.
>They gesture to each other several times before the humans understand.
>The ragged men raise their cups.
>A traditional Venetian song plays, and all the ponies sing along.
>Anon settles down near the fireplace and continues drinking.
>It’s probably a cider.
>That’s all ponies ever drink.
>Marco makes his way over, and begins talking with the Baron.
>Anon points at you.
>What does he want?
>Anon squeezes his hand before making it flat.
>Marco responds in confusion.
>He presses the tips of his fingers together.
>You don’t know what they are saying, but with the hand motions it’s clear that Anon is angry.
>Finally Marco waves you over as he walks back to the bar.
>”What did you say to him?”
>Marco pulls a cask out, and pushes it in front of the bar.
>The rollers below the barrel make it easy to move.
>”He says that I should get rid of you for being insolent.”
”So? They will be gone in a day or two.”
>Marco shakes his head.
>”No. This entire town is his now. He won’t leave, even if the rest of the army moves on.”
>That’s why the army didn’t pillage everything.
”He’ll forget about this tomorrow.”
>”Take this cask over to him as an apology.”
”But I didn’t do anything.”
>”Then it won’t matter. Why are you arguing with me, Lily?”
“Anon’s a murderer. He killed all those people.”
>Marco stands up straighter.
>He pauses before responding.
>”I’ll bet most of these people killed someone today. You don’t want to be next, do you?”
>You press your lips together.
>This is for Marco’s sake.
>Anon watches you as you slowly move the cask toward him.
>You bow as low as you dare.
>Everything in your body knows he’s going to kick you, but it doesn’t come.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
>It takes a moment before you feel you should rise.
>”You know I could have you killed right now. If I wanted it…”
>You clench your teeth together.
>This makes him smile.
>”Put that over there, and then come back.”
>He points toward his ponies.
>You see Lemon Drop pushing another cask near the people in the back.
>It’s probably wine.
>When you return Anon taps his hand on the seat next to him.
>Reluctantly, you sit on his bench.
>It takes every fiber in your body to keep from jumping when he puts his arm around you.
>He hands you a glass with his free hand.
>”What was your name again?”
>You take a sip of the drink.
>”That’s a nice name,” he says pleasantly.
>You turn to him.
“Are you going to kill me?”
>Maybe he thought you were joking?
>You let out a few weak chuckles.
>He looks back at you.
>”I suppose we should talk about that.”
>He shifts to stretch out his back.
“I was being silly back there. I shouldn’t have talked out of turn,” you lie.
>You didn’t know any of those men, but they were fighting to defend their homeland.
>”They killed many Venetians as well. We didn’t start this war.”
>His hand wanders and starts rubbing your shoulder.
>You shake your body so he won’t touch you.
>He lets go, but keeps his arm resting on the booth.
>Immediately you regret that.
>It was just a harmless touch.
>Besides, he could do anything with you if he wanted.
>”About what you asked earlier.”
>He means about killing you.
>You look up at him.
>”I haven’t decided yet.”
>He sticks out his thumb and index finger and waves it in front of you.
>That means you should leave.
>You slowly slink off the chair and walk toward the bar.
>So are you safe or not?
>Marco is pouring wine for ponies who have grown tired of cider.
>”What did he say?”
“He says he hasn’t decided yet.”
>Marco gives you a confused look.
>”Did you talk back to him again?”
“No. I was being polite.”
>Marco frowns but returns to his work.
>”What was he like?” Lemon Drop asks.
>”You know who. Anon.”
>You look over at him.
“He was fine.”
>”Just fine? You have to tell me more. Was he scary?”
>You look at your friend.
>You can feel your cheeks burning.
“A little, but he wasn’t mean.”
>The band takes a break and they join the others.
>You shouldn’t have moved away from him.
>Now he will hate you.
>”What did you talk about?”
“The war mostly. He speaks Equestrian.”
>Lemon perks up at this.
>”I know. I couldn’t believe it earlier. I didn’t think any people learned it. I mean, we’re basically nothing compared to them.”
“Well he did. Maybe you should talk to him, Lem.”
>You shouldn’t have said that.
>She will probably get herself into trouble, like you did.
>Several hours pass.
>A few of the clearly drunk ponies leave, but others take their place.
>You see a few mares enter, and the soldiers are quick to offer them a drink.
>With the casks out, you and Lemon Drop have very little to do.
>The ponies pour themselves drinks, and only occasionally ask for a new glass.
>You watch as Anon talks with one of his soldiers.
>The pony gives him a slight bow before returning to the others.
>This repeats over and over.
>No doubt they are congratulating him and asking for his favor.
>You see a lull as most of the ponies have already spoken to him.
>”Now’s my chance.”
“Lemon Drop,” you call as loudly as you dare, but she continues anyway.
>With the band no longer playing, the room is only filled with the low roar of talking.
>You watch Anon and your friend.
>She sways over like a filly.
>It takes a moment for her to catch his attention.
>Anon listens as Lemon introduces herself.
>You wish you could hear what they are saying.
>Lemon gestures wildly with her hoof in a poor imitation of people.
>They both erupt in laughter.
>Without an invitation she sits next to him.
>He moves his arm over the booth, but doesn’t touch her.
>Against your better judgement, you decide to pick up some glasses and clean near Anon.
>”You can speak really well. I don’t have any trouble understanding you.”
>”It was tough at first. But, I get a lot of practice.”
>You stack a few glasses together, and wipe down a table.
>”So you must travel a lot.”
>”I do, but only during the summer. No one wants to fight in winter.”
>”I’ve only been to the ocean once.”
>”You should see Venice.”
>”I heard it was an island.”
>”It’s a bunch of islands. Over a hundred.”
>”So they have bridges between them?”
>”Maybe one day. For now only a few are connected. We have to travel by,” he frowns. He holds up a hand to try to explain. Finally he just says, “small ships.”
>Maybe he doesn’t know the word for boat.
>You carry the glasses back to the bar.
>Marco isn’t there so you wait for someone to place an order.
>Instead, a drunk pony makes his way over.
>His clothes are black with blood.
“That’s not my name.”
>”Well, what is it then?”
>He thinks it over.
“I like Cutie better.”
>He laughs loudly at his joke.
“Did you want something?”
>He looks you up and down.
>He takes a step closer.
“Well I’m not on offer.”
>”Don’t be mean to me, Cutie. We just finished fighting. Who knows the next time I’ll see another mare.”
>He nuzzles your neck and you take a step back.
“You probably say that to everypony.”
>”No, just the ones I like.”
>Again he tries to nuzzle you.
“I said get off!”
>Without thinking you turn and buck him.
>He falls backwards and lands on his haunches.
>A few of his friends laugh.
>”Stupid bitch,” he says as he gets up.
>One pony waves him back and he gives you another look.
>Thinking better of it, he rejoins the others.
>You look to your friend.
>She is leaning against Anon, and his hand is covering her cutie mark.
>Both of them are watching.
>Lemon gives you an angry look.
>You know she would tell you to play along.
>That these ponies will be gone soon enough and then you can go back to being antisocial.
>Anon just has a smile on his face.
>He points at you and Lemon shakes her head.
>She crosses her hooves, but Anon gently pushes her forward.
>Soon enough she gets up and walks toward you.
>”What are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
>”So when you kicked that pony it was nothing?
“He got too friendly.”
>”This is why you’re alone, Lily. You have to at least pretend to be nice.”
>You glare at her.
“Is that what you’re doing? Being nice?”
>”This is a great opportunity for us. If Florence surrenders, this guy will get a giant mansion. He’ll probably build a castle.”
>”Then we won’t have to work anymore.”
“You’re being dumb, Lem. Anon doesn’t care about us. We’re just ponies to him.”
>”Yeah. He’s the kind of guy that learns our language and leads ponies. He must be a monster.”
“Oh, don’t be sarcastic, Lemon.”
>”It’s the only thing you understand.”
“I don’t know if you realize this, but these are invaders. They are taking our land.”
>”This never was our land, Lily. Equestria was supposed to be ours. Now it’s gone.”
>She does have a point.
>Besides Marco, most Florentines don’t care for ponies.
>What was Equestria like?
>You hardly remember anymore.
>”Fine. You do what you want, but I’m going to live in a mansion.”
>She turns to walk away.
>She ignores you and goes to Anon.
>Lemon Drop quickly hops on the bench and leans into him.
>You watch as his hand rubs her side.
>In the corner a person waves you over.
>It takes a while to understand what he means, but he is asking for a new cask.
>Dutifully, you push another to take its place.
>When you return to the bar Marco is back with clean glasses.
>The next hour passes quickly.
>People and ponies enter and leave.
>Some leave with a mare.
>The ones who are too drunk leave with their friends.
>You look back at Lemon Drop.
>Lem pretends to find Anon’s hand very interesting.
>He pulls her in close, and she doesn’t resist.
>You don’t want to see their kiss, so you look away.
>When you look back, she is on his lap and swooning like a filly.
>Her rear hooves playfully touch his sword hilt.
>He holds her, and waves over Marco.
>You can’t help yourself, and follow.
>If anyone asks you’ll just say you thought he wanted to signal you.
>”How much are ponies here? Five, six florins?”
>”Usually around six,” Marco responds.
>Lemon’s eyes open wide.
>She mouths to you, “He’s going to buy me.”
>You can’t believe how happy she looks.
>”Then I’ll give you twelve for the pair.”
>Both of you?
>Marco lets out a single laugh.
>”I don’t own Lemon Drop. She belongs to my sister.”
>”She won’t mind,” Lemon says quickly.
>She bats her eyelashes at Anon.
>Marco shakes his head.
>”I can’t accept. She’s not mine.”
>Anon taps a foot and Lemon bounces slightly.
>”And the other one? Lily?”
>”She’s a sickly pony,” he lies. “Also she is very headstrong. She’ll argue a lot.”
>”She won’t have to last long. Besides, she makes me laugh.”
>So he does want to kill you.
>You were stupid.
>You shouldn’t have said anything.
>Marco looks to you, and you shake your head.
>He presses his lips together.
>You know he wants to accept.
>To ingratiate himself to Anon.
>Part of you wants him to say yes.
>That way he won’t get into trouble.
>The other part hates Anon, and wants nothing to do with him.
>”I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t accept. Lily isn’t for sale.”
>Anon looks toward his ponies.
>Probably to hide his anger.
>He only has a few soldiers left.
>Most have already gone back to the camp, or rented a room for the night.
>Anon moves his hand from Lemon's leg.
>He touches her rear hooves with his fingers and she giggles.
>You notice his palm is resting on his sword.
>”What about fifteen just for Lily?”
>”Fifteen?” Marco’s voice trails off. “That’s very generous, but I have to respectfully decline.”
>Anon doesn’t try to hide his frown.
>He looks at Marco as if he is weighing the man.
>Trying to figure out his weakness.
>Anon grips the handle of his sword.
>The angle is awkward, clearly not meant to be drawn with his left hand.
>You take a step back.
>Marco must not have noticed, as he doesn't move.
>Suddenly, Anon's mood passes.
>He laughs before saying simply, “Fine.”
>You let out a sigh of relief.
>”Thank you for understanding, sir.”
>Anon lets a smile creep across his face.
>”Of course. Now, do you have any rooms left?”
>”Yes. I’m tired of sleeping in a tent.”
>”I only have a few small rooms left. Nothing that would be good enough for you.”
>”I’m sure it will be fine.”
>”Uh, yes. I’ll show you to an open one.”
>Lemon Drop hops off Anon’s lap.
>”Don’t worry, Marco. I’ll help Anon.”
>She doesn’t wait for an answer and looks for the keys.
“What about your horse?”
>Anon gives you a confused look.
>He hasn't gone to check on her all night.
>You wonder if he even remembered.
>”Dancer? I had one of my lieutenants take her back to the camp.”
>”We have a stable for guests. Maybe next time,” Marco quickly offers.
>”This way, Anon,” Lemon says with keys in her mouth.
>He follows close behind.
>Marco sits down at an open table as the last guest leaves.
>The pony can barely stand and has to lean on another one.
>”That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” Marco says.
“Yeah. It could have been worse.”
>You survey the damage.
>There are half empty glasses everywhere.
>The room still smells like blood, but it is slowly getting weaker.
>You get up and grab a rag.
>Marco stops you.
>”We can clean in the morning.”
>You nod and head to your room.
>It’s almost over.
>You didn’t get raped or killed, so that’s a good thing.
>With any luck, these ponies will be pushed back to Venice.
>The door closes with a click and you jump on your bed.
>Would Anon really have killed you in cold blood?
>Somehow you doubt it.
>He wouldn't have tried to buy you just to end your life.
>Anon did say that you made him laugh.
>Maybe he isn't used to a mare not rolling over for him.
>That doesn't matter now.
>Soon they will all be gone.
>You can hear giggling in the next room.
>An ear instinctively perks up.
>You furrow your brow.
>Is that one of those dirty mares with a soldier?
>They've probably been with dozens of ponies.
>You lean in closer to listen.
>Instantly you recognize it.
>It’s Lemon Drop.
>You put a pillow over your head.
>It does nothing to drown out the sound.
>His joke probably wasn't even funny.
>She always laid it on thick.
>Probably wants to make sure Anon enjoys her.
>She really doesn't want to work here anymore.
>You can't blame her.
>Who wouldn't want to live in luxury?
>Anon is the first noble to ever come in here.
>Lemon Drop is probably the smart one.
>You turn to your side, and away from the laughing.
>After a little bit, the laughter subsides.
>Finally you can get some rest.
>Deep breaths always calm you down.
>You don't want to think about Anon right now.
>He'll be gone soon enough.
>You hear a moan.
>You close your eyes tighter.
>Why did she pick the room next to yours?