Mayor Mare snapped the book closed with a papery clap.

It was an old and worn out thing, spitting a cloud of dust out as it shut, which Mayor Mare absentmindedly waved away with a hoof as she spun on her stool to put the book away on the shelf. Yes, it was an old and dusty thing, but then so was she. They were alike in that manner, and so many others, really. The thin cover, its color dull and flat; the heavy, musty pages in between. How it would creak and groan when you tried to move it too much. The dust.

Ah, but the knowledge inside—still so useful!

She squeezed the volume—Taxonomy of Methods—back into its place on the shelf, taking a moment to admire her collection. Yes, she was an old book, but old books had a habit of being useful when an emergency sprung up. Ponies even wrote stories about them, about ancient volumes filled with terrible secrets and amazing spells…or some nonsense like that. Though The Mayor Mare certainly wasn’t ancient. There were only two ponies in Equestria who were the oldest of books, and she had had the privilege of sharing tea with them many times. They had good tastes, as it turned out.

Perhaps that was why she had never gone and gotten newer additions of most of the volumes on her shelf. The majority were of average over five decades old. The newest ones were a small yet vibrant collection—a series of essays, commentaries and learnings all under the name of one Princess Twilight Sparkle.

They were kept right smack in the middle of the shelf, surrounded snuggly by the larger, more worn books, where youth could be protected by the wisdom of experience. Where they could be kept warm and secure and held close.

It was, for Mayor Mare, an expression of her affection for that little princess of theirs.

All of Equestria thought she belonged to them, but she didn’t. She belonged to Ponyville. She was their princess, and always had been, ever since that first day she came down from the sky.

With a light sigh, Mayor Mare turned slowly towards her desk, cursing her old sore rump as she shifted about on the flattened cushion beneath her. She attempted to clear some extra space on her desk by pushing aside the many, precariously tall piles of papers, scrolls and folders. They would always begin close to the middle of her tiny working space, and throughout the day would inch closer and closer to the edge, until one of them (usually the tallest and messiest) toppled over, followed by a string of curses that could be heard clear through Town Hall building.

Apparently, Twilight Sparkle could hear them from Canterlot.

“Let us see what is next,” she said, reaching for a random pile and grabbing whatever was on top. She looked closer and paused, peering towards heaven for mercy.

“Weather control plans for next month.”

Weather Patrol Captain Rainbow Dash’s name was signed on the front.

“Oh dear.”

No pegasus could manipulate the weather like Rainbow. No pegasus could captain a team like Rainbow. And no pegasus hated writing formal reports like Rainbow.

Mayor Mare could feel that muscle in her lower back beginning to act up. It made her left hoof twitch like it was trying to kick something.

She was too old for this. But then, she was probably too old for most activities. She’d retire, but who would be left to do the job right? Who would be left to mother Ponyville?

Because it did need mothering. Dear Twilight made a better uncle than she did a mother.

Mayor Mare adjusted her dust tinted spectacles and flipped over the first page when there was a rather loud crash from outside her door.

She paused. It sounded as if it had come from down the hallway, by the Assembly Chamber. Where the intern Dusty worked.

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the report and began to read.

There was another crash.

“Oh for goodness sake—Dusty! What’s going on out there—”

Her office door slammed open. Policies, articles and legislation went everywhere, but Mayor Mare hardly jolted. In government, one got used to this sort of thing.

In the entrance stood a tall, strongly built and rather unclean looking stallion with a braid of rope between his teeth. All six of them.

There were four stallions, as a matter of fact.

After a bit of shuffling, the form of Dusty was tossed on the floor in front of her desk, tied tightly with thick ropes and his poor mouth stuffed with some dirty cloth. The front most stallion spat out his rope on the floor.

“Guess who’s going to be our ransom for that filthy princess and her stinkin’ cronies!” he cried triumphantly.

The Mayor Mare blinked.

And then she groaned.

---

It was one of those summer days in Ponyville where there was something a little extra on the clean air, causing everything to seem more alive. The colors, sights and smells felt more vibrant than even the clearest days, and there didn’t seem to be a single foul mood in the entire village.

Which added to the sourness when young Dusty was thrown from the Town Hall doors to land at the top of the steps. That extra little something on the wind had brought most of the ponies out of their homes and into the market, whose plump middle section ran right next to Town Hall. About three hundred eyes turned to see Dusty’s tied form get yanked up by the teeth of two ugly stallions as a third cried out to those watching.

“Ponyville! I am Crooked Hoof! We have your government in captivity!”

Dusty was given a vigorous shake to illustrate. Crooked Hoof gave him a few strong pats on the stomach. Clouds of scroll dust puffed out with each one.

“Whichever one of you knows where that stupid old hag Twilight Sparkle is, or any one of her five peons, you tell them that Ponyville ain’t getting its Mayor or assorted workers back until we get one hundred million bits ransom! Or princess Twilight surrenders herself to us. Or both. ”

He twisted his head back and pulled out a rusty blade from a sheath strapped to his side.

“And for every hour that she takes to make up her mind,” he said, slowly sliding the tip down the side of Dusty’s face, “we’ll have a little fun!” With a coughing-like laugh he turned to witness the terror filled faces of the ponies of Ponyville.

Except, they were a bit too unimpressed looking to really be classified as terror filled. Even ‘cautiously worried’ was a stretch. They simply stared at the group of unwashed stallions and poor, tied up Dusty, looking as if they expected something more. When nothing came, they all turned and went back to their business, the low-level thump of hooves and the loud sea of voices returning to the air.

The three stallions blinked.

“Hey!” Crooked Hoof yelled angrily around the blade in his mouth, “We have your entire government tied up inside! All six ponies of it! And we’re going to torture them!”

An old haggard mare hobbled past the bottom of the Town Hall steps, pausing to call up to them, “Git the ‘ell out of ‘ere, if you know what’s good for yer! Darned idiots. I reckon you got about ten minutes!”

“Ten minutes till what grandma?” Crooked spat.

“Ten minutes till you have burnt lumps for asses!”

Another thirty seconds saw Dusty had a new mate all tied up next to him.

“Get ‘em inside with the others,” Crooked ordered. He turned on last time to face the crowded Town Square. “Remember Ponyville—every hour!” He twirled his knife into the air and caught it, sheathing the thing as he trotted inside Town Hall, sparing one last suspicious look over his shoulder.

---

Mayor Mare was beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling of tight ropes pulling at the fur on her sides. But she didn’t like that fact very much. This was the second time this month. And things had been progressing so well during the spring and early summer, too.

At least she hadn’t been gagged with some gruesomely vile rag. She looked down at the ropes binding her. Ah, polyester, a step up from last time, certainly. And she was in the board room, a newer addition to the building whose floorboards didn’t quite squeak as much, which certain of the Elders found accommodating when they fell asleep during minor preliminary discussions. Usually when the topic turned to farming. Or the weather. Anything, really.

She always did like the layout and feel of the room; it was used for meetings too big for her office but too small to make great use of the larger Assembly Chamber. The decorations had good balance and taste, too. The painting of the moon at sunset hanging on the east wall was done by princess Luna herself, during one of her art sessions with Twilight. She had always wanted to join them sometime. Perhaps one day.

The floor could’ve use a good sweeping, though. One noticed so much more dirt and filth when lying tied up on the floor as opposed to standing on it. How was it that a pony’s hooves tracked in so much dirt? She’d have to have a talk with the janitor later.

Where the rest of the staff was being kept she didn't know. Hopefully not in the closet like last time.

The double doors leading to the Chamber were thrown open, and Mayor Mare watched as Dusty and somepony she didn’t recognize at first were dragged in and dropped next to her. One of the stallions gave Dusty a kick in the gut and he almost spit the gag out through the tape.

“I ought to give you one too for that lip o’ yours, granny. Be thankful I’m merciful.”

After a few more grunts and poisoning the room with the smelly breath, they left, slamming the doors behind them.

“Ah, Mrs. Merriwinkle,” Mayor Mare said, recognizing her after twisting herself around to get a better peak. “Good to see you.”

“Top of the afternoon, Mayor,” she said pleasantly and without hesitation, unaffected by the circumstances. Poor Dusty simply moaned quietly.

“How’s Mr. Merriwinkle doing? Got that rash checked out, I hope.”

“Oh, yes, he’ll be fine; doctor gave him a nice topical cream to apply. Works real good.”

“What’s it called?”

“Ocean Breeze’s Butt Paste.”

Mayor Mare shifted around a bit. “I’ve heard of that. I’ll have to get some for my sister in law.”

“Comes over the counter too,” Merriwinkle said with a slow nod.

“How about your grandson, little Wheat Stem?”

“A nuisance, as always,” she said with a grunt.

“Still getting into Mrs. Leaf’s carrot patch is he?”

“Always. But I love the little thing.”

“Don’t we all.”

---

Two of Crooked Hoof’s stallions stood on guard at the top of the Town Hall steps, looking rather unpleasant with their dirty, mud-stained coats and the occasional fly. No pony spared them a second look; obviously it was because they were too terrified.

They certainly hid it well with all that shopping though. And arguing. These ponies seemed to love to argue a lot over what they were buying, more so than either of them had ever seen, and they had gotten around quite a bit. They really threw themselves into it, but in a nice, friendly sort of way that was very confusing to the two stallions.

The one on the left, named Butter, grunted. "Makes no damn sense."

The one on the right, who cycled through names as one cycled through outfits, simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Excuse me, gentlestallions!"

It came from in front of them.

The voice sounded like a clear rain of gold, striking some deep, not often touched nerve that ran through their middles. They both peered down the steps at a white unicorn mare standing with a demure smile on her lips. She was simply radiant, and whether it was the sun or not they didn't know, but she glowed. A streak of silver ran through her luscious violet mane, but somehow it only made her look more beautiful, more mature.

Both their mouths hung open a little, and Rarity's smile brightened by just a little.

"Excuse me, gentlestallions, but I was having some terrible trouble over there with a stubborn wagon of mine," she said in a helpless tone, turning to gesture off to the side, exposing her flank to their view. That nerve inside of them twinged stronger.

"I was wondering if you might come over and help me give it a good shove," she said, emphasizing the word with a thrust of her body.

Somehow, the rest of the world disappeared. That nerve was burning now. It had never lit so fast. There was something in the way that she spoke and moved and fluttered her eyelashes that compelled them to move, compelled them more than anything ever had before. Thoughts of Crooked Hoof and millions of bits and princesses just...floated away.

Wordlessly and with near-vacant stares they marched down the steps, straight for Rarity, who kept ahead of them by just a step.

"Oh, thank you so much, I promise you won't regret it."

The two of them just nodded dumbly. They followed Rarity around the side of Town Hall and into an alley way. It turned to the right, and something like the sun shown in their faces, nearly blinding them. It had an oddly purple tint to it.

"It's your show, Fluttershy dear!"

"Oh Cuddles!"

Butter and his cohort blinked in the brightness. Who the hell was Cuddles?

Then the light was blocked.

By the shape of a bear.

---

The Mayor Mare had fineggled herself into a sitting position against the wall. It was only marginally more comfortable than the floor. But very much less dirty. She couldn't quite tell whether Dusty had fallen asleep or not.

"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Merriwinkle, the next time you see your daughter could you inform her she needs to fill out her tax exemption forms? She's already a bit late."

"Sure enough," Merriwinkle said with a nod.

"If you don't mind me asking...how did you end up in here?"

Merriwinkle chuckled.

"I told em' they had ten minutes to clear town, or else."

Mayor Mare rolled her jaw.

"You should have told them five."

"I know. I lied."

There was the sound of a loud crashing outside in the Assembly Chamber followed by screams. Amidst the chaos were the unmistakable laughs of Rainbow Dash and Applejack.

A flash of purple appeared in front of them, and Mayor Mare simply closed her eyes, knowing what was coming.

"Hello, Mayor Mare, having an nice day?"

She felt the light zing of a magic aura flowing over her as her bonds snapped loose. She could hear Dusty gasping fresh, dirt rag free breaths.

She smiled. "Why yes, Twilight, as a matter of fact I am. I haven't had to look at Rainbow Dash's weather reports at all."