Rockwell and Octavia were now sitting in the dining room, the latter still shaking nervously while the former had a napkin wrapped around his neck and was enthusiastically gripping his knife and fork. Numerous objects were being levitated in the now covered dining table. Candlesticks, ornamental flowers, bottles of condiments and several plates were placed in front of them.
“See?” Rockwell said while looking at Octavia. “They weren’t moving things around the house to haunt us, they’re just being hospitable!”
Octavia didn’t reply. She didn’t even bother looking at him, still shivering from the fear. Rockwell rolled his eyes at what the mare was doing.
“Oh grow a spine will you?” He looked above the table, to where the objects were still magically floating without magic. “Hey, you two! Get down here and introduce yourselves! This ought to calm her down.”
Octavia quickly turned to Rockwell, her face paler than before. “Th-there’s two of them!?”
“Since “They’re” is a pronoun and not name, so yeah,”
The panicking mare leaned in close to Rockwell. Both her hooves were gripping at his suit, her eyes bulging to the point of popping out. “How is that supposed to calm me down!?” She whispered loudly to his ears.
Rockwell slowly lowered Octavia’s hooves down and eased her back into her chair. “Just look at their forms, you’re definitely gonna get a kick out of it.” He gave the mare a small and confident smile to give his words proper assurance.
All the objects floating above the dining room gently set themselves down on the table. Two popping sounds followed after, revealing two glowing white figures hovering above the ponies. The one on the left was a unicorn mare with a purple mane. While the other one was blue-haired pegasus stallion. He looked like an angel with his wings opened wide. Only their upper bodies signified that they were once ponies. Their lower parts where the hind legs were supposed to be were replaced with an apparitional tail.
“I-I see what you mean,” Octavia said. There’s less nervousness in her voice now.
“I apologize for not showing ourselves sooner.” The pegasus ghost said. “It’s just that it’s been a while since we had guests come over in the manor. Oh!”
The camera suddenly centered its shot to the flinching Octavia, then back to the ghost.
“Where are my manners?” The pegasus continued. “I’m Cirrus Skies. And the mare next to me is Violet Garden.” The ghost mare greeted the two ponies with a courteous nod.
“My name’s Agent Rockwell of the BoS. And this mare right here is Octavia Melody. We also have a camera crew. It’d be best if you don’t mind them.”
“Oh, okay,” Cirrus replied. “How about we move on to dinner then?” He gestured Violet Garden to start moving the dishes again.
“Yes please!” Rockwell exclaimed.
Once everything has been properly set, Octavia had her stares bouncing between Rockwell and the Ghosts before timidly raising the metallic bowl covering the dish served for her. It appeared to be empty, leaving a look of confusion on the mare. She leaned close to Rockwell again, about to whisper something. The camera leaned closer as well to hear what she’s about to say.
“There’s nothing in here,” Octavia said, now doing a proper whisper.
“Of course there’s nothing in there,” Rockwell replied matter-of-factly. “You have to ask them what you want first.” Rockwell hummed in contemplation as if he was deciding which food he’s going to pick in a menu.
“Can I have a dozen spring rolls please?” He finally answered. “Deep-fried, about half the size of my hoof and filled to the brim with homegrown vegetables?”
Cirrus nodded in acknowledgment and gestured a spectral hoof at Rockwell’s plate. The steam then started coming out from the metallic bowl and it started to smell of something thoroughly fried in oil. Rockwell opened up his dish and saw the exact thing that he just ordered. A dozen deeply fried spring rolls about half the size of Rockwell’s hoof were carefully stacked into a small pyramid on his plate.
“Dinner is served.”
“Neat!” Rockwell said while gently blowing the rolls before picking them up.
Octavia leaned to Rockwell once again. “How are they able to do things such as this?”
“Don’t ask me,” Rockwell replied with partially chewed food in his mouth. “Ask them. I just keep things secret here, not explain them.”
Octavia looked at the ghost ponies, her face begging for an answer. Their reactions were the same as Rockwell’s. “We don’t either, we just do,” Cirrus said. “So what can I get you?”
“Oh. Um,” Octavia paused for a moment. “I’ll just have what the agent’s having, I guess.” She said with her hooves gingerly hitting each other.
Cirrus then looked at the mare beyond the camera. “What about you? Same same?”
“I’ll have fried ice cream please.”
---
“So Cirrus,” Rockwell said, now on his last three spring rolls. “How long have you guys been staying here?”
“Around a couple of years, I think,” Cirrus replied. He and violet were sitting on the seats in parallel to their guests now. “Violet was the first one to occupy the manor. I just arrived a few years later.”
“Funny.” Rockwell placed a half-eaten roll back to his plate. “Because the mayor didn’t mention you at all.”
The camera suddenly focused its shot on Violet, who just conjured something with her hoof. It appeared to be an Ouija board and a shot glass. She positioned the board to face Cirrus while navigating the glass from letter to letter.
“The ghost mare.” Octavia pointed out with her spring roll. “She’s trying to tell us something.”
“A Ouija board? Really?” Rockwell said, his tone condescending. “Ghosts nowadays just use chalk and miniaturized blackboards.”
After interpreting what Violet was saying using in her board, Cirrus looked back at the two ponies to finally relay what she was saying. “Violet said that there’s a good reason behind that. Also, chalk runs out easily and dirties up the floor.”
Once Cirrus has finished saying the last line, Violet gave Rockwell a stern glare while tilting her head.
“If it’s not too personal,” Octavia looked at Cirrus while partly raising a hoof. “Can I ask why she’s using an Ouija board instead of talking to us directly?”
Rockwell looked at the camera with a knowing smile, as if he’s about to break something. “Aren’t you glad we brought an everymare here with us?” He turned back again to look at Cirrus. “Tell her C.”
“So uh,” Cirrus looked up the ceiling while scratching his ghostly chin as if to gather his thoughts. “Ghosts who just materialized recently usually take a while to redevelop their speech back so they mostly resort to talking through other means of communications such as Ouija boards and whatnot.”
“How long does it take to develop your speech back?” Octavia added.
“A couple of decades, I guess,” Cirrus answered. “We’re already dead so we don’t really bother keeping count.” Violet silently nodded to what Cirrus was saying, implying that she agreed as well.
“I have another question if you don’t mind.” Octavia shyly asked this time. “Do you know the reason why you materialized?”
“Ah yes.” Cirrus’ tone sounded more certain on this one like he knows the answer to the question. “We ghosts do tend to return to the corporeal realm due to some unfinished business. And once those businesses get finished, only then will our souls find peace and transcend into the ethereal realm. I don’t mean anything on this but we’d rather not tell the reason of why we’re still here save for the BoS agents helping us with our cases.”
“Oh!” Octavia’s ears perked. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry.”
“Which reminds me,” Rockwell joined in, now sitting in front of a clean platter. “Who’s the agent assigned to you again?”
“That would be Agent Storm,” Cirrus replied. “I had him handle both our cases.”
“Storm?” Rockwell hummed approvingly. “Good fellow. A bit stoic, but he’s a great agent. He’ll definitely solve your cases in no time.”
Rockwell’s attention was diverted to Octavia’s direction. The camera focused on the direction Rockwell was staring at and was presented with an Octavia donning a large smile carved on her face.
“What’s up with that dumb smile?” Rockwell said to her.
Octavia became aware of what she was doing and turned scarlet. She quickly turned away to hide her blush. “I do apologize.” She turned back again, fur back to her normal shade of grey. “The realization just struck me just now. But I can’t believe that I’m actually conversing with a real ghost!” She squeed at the end of her line.
“Says the mare who’s dating a vampire.” Rockwell teased.
Octavia slammed a hoof on the table. “We’re just friends!”
“Anyway...” Rockwell looked back to the ghosts. “Back to the question that got us here. Why isn’t the mayor aware you’re here again?”
In response to Rockwell’s question, Violet quickly moved the shot glass around her board again.
“Like I said, this is Violet speaking by the way.” Cirrus clarified. “Violet stumbled upon this manor four years ago. And that also happened to be Inkwell’s first term as mayor. And when she came to inspect the place, Violet did all her best to welcome her. So she tidied up the place just like she did moments ago.”
Octavia winced slightly. “Honestly, I don’t see that turning out well for her.”
“It didn’t,” Cirrus said, confirming her comment. “And just like you, the mayor thought that Violet here was a ponetergeist trying to haunt her and ended up running away for dear life. And because Violet hasn’t gotten back her voice yet, she can’t really explain herself to the mayor properly. Because of that incident, she hasn’t visited the manor since. But it’s not all that bad really. At least nopony was bothering us here. Fast forward a few years later, I arrived and registered her to the Bureau’s Spectral records, had the same agent handle both our cases and here we are, living peacefully since.”
Rockwell gave out a contemplative hum before speaking. “That justifies most of it, I guess. But why would the mayor bother sending ponies here now? Octavia’s home has room for me to stay in, I’m pretty sure the local inn has a lot to spare too. Why send me in this building specifically when she knows that there are ghosts occupying the place?”
“You’re making it sound like she’s hiding something from you.” Octavia retorted. “What if she just assumed that the ghosts already left a long time ago? And she thought that manor has better accommodations than all of Ponyville has to offer?”
“Even Princess Twilight’s castle?” Rockwell shot back, accompanying his reply with a playful smirk.
“She doesn’t have that kind of authority.”
“But what if I wanted to sleep in the Princess’ castle?”
“But she doesn’t have the kind of authority,” Octavia repeated. Her ears twitched. She’s starting to look annoyed.
“Well yeah. But I really wanted to sleep there.”
Octavia took a deep breath before responding. “As I said before, she doesn’t have tha-”
“Why are you defending her anyway?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Rockwell playfully bit a piece of roll. His eyes still lingered on her while doing so. He appeared to enjoy getting a rise out of the mare. “She insulted your house earlier. I like to take it as a hint on what her opinion is to the local populace. Surely you must at least have taken offense from what she said.”
“Don’t act childish, Agent Rockwell. I prefer my judgments to be morally unbia-AHH!”
Octavia suddenly cried out of fright while looking up above the ceiling, exactly to where the hole in the roof was. The camera focused its shot on where she was staring, only to get briefly blinded by a white flash of light. A large crashing sound then followed after. It landed on the dining table, ruining everything that was placed on it.
“My Goddesses!” Octavia shouted. She can’t be seen by the camera due to a large cloud of dust that covered all four corners of the screen.
“My spring rolls!” Rockwell exclaimed, following suit. A pained mooing sound came from the ruined table as if to reply to their shouting. Once the smoke finally cleared, a brown cow was lying on the shattered pieces of wood that were once the dining table. It didn’t move, probably knocked out from a fall that high.
“What in Celestia’s (beeping) flank just happened here!” Rockwell said to nopony as he dusted his suit off.
“I’m really sorry about this, Agent Rockwell. The aliens in Everfree tend to do this kind of thing to us from time to time.”
Octavia looked at Rockwell as if asking for confirmation. “Aliens!? In Everfree!?”
“They drop cows on our roof at random intervals,” Cirrus added. “I think they’re playing some kind of prank on us.”
“Wait, that’s illegal,” Rockwell said as he pulled out a cigarette stick from his jacket and lit it. He took a generous huff from the stick and let out a puff of smoke. “Goddesses, I may have to talk with the agents in charge of the landing site there.” He takes another huff again. “What a pain.”
“You have a what in the Everfree forest!?” Octavia trotted closer to Rockwell. “How is it that we, the citizens of Ponyville were not aware of this?”
“We’re the Bureau of Secrecies,” Rockwell said casually while looking at the two ghosts levitating the unconscious out the manor. “It’s what we do. We’re literally everything and nothing at the same time.”
He quickly turned around to look at Octavia, as if he was reminded something through her face. “Speaking of secrets,” Rockwell pulled out his vanisher ward and showed it to her. “Here, I want you to see this. It’s a funny little device called the vanisher ward. It’s supposed to erase a specific memory out of somepony’s mind by flashing this gem right at their faces. Earlier versions of these needed the user to whack the stick to their targets’ heads to achieve full effect. Whether or not the memory was wiped out because of the spell or because of the sheer strength of the blow is still debated by scientists to this day.”
Octavia narrowed her eyes on the metal rod that Rockwell was holding while slowly backing away from him. “You’re not planning to use that on me, are you?”
“Oh, I will.” Rockwell's response was quick, opting for Octavia to do a nervous gulp. “In due time but not right now, not when I’m still in town. You’re so fun to be around that I can’t just get rid of you that quickly. My work here would feel a lot longer if I did.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Octavia replied, confusion evident in her voice.
“Okay!” Rockwell clapped his hooves. “Pack up your things, thank the ghosts for dinner, we’re heading out!”
But as soon as Rockwell took a huge stride from his foreleg a rather obvious sound of bones cracking ceased him from continuing his enthusiastic strut. He groaned from the pain while gently caressing his back. “After a brief power nap. We’re leaving after a brief power nap.”
Octavia stared at Rockwell with a worried expression. “Can’t we just wait for tomorrow to go there?”
“No time.” Rockwell slowly trotted to the direction the ghosts have gone to. “They might leave the planet soon. And we can’t have that now, can we? Hey Cirrus? Do you mind if I use one of your bedrooms?”
“It felt very weird to hear you say something like that,” Octavia said. “How can you make something so big seem so small?”
Rockwell chuckled softly before replying.
“That’s what she said.”