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// II. Une mort dans la maison 
// Story: The Murder of Starswirl the Bearded 
// by Inky Scrolls 
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As I reëntered the maison, a sudden breeze made my fur stand on end, and I shivered slightly. Glancing back into the garden, I could see that the fluffy white clouds of earlier had thickened, and were beginning to cover most of the sky. The air felt muggy, almost tense. I sensed we were in for a storm.

These thoughts left my mind, however, as I turned to follow Clémentine to the diningroom. She was already in the thick of a lighthearted conversation with Étoire, and my heart leapt as she put her hoof round his aged shoulders. I felt a spurt of jealousy, and was shocked at myself - why should such a common way of showing friendship and affection bother me so? Clémentine and Étoire were clearly old and close friends, and why should I question any friendly overtures between them? I myself had only met the Marquise a few minutes before, and could hardly lay claim to her attentions. And yet, to my surprise, I began to realise that I did mind, that I did care. I felt like doing something silly, something ridiculous, just to catch her eye. I shook my head, impatiently. It was then that I noticed the Kommandant staring at me, and I hastily straightened my face.

He growled, in his rather raspy voice, "Fräulein Lueur, may I ask how you come to know of our esteemed Étoire?"

Fortunately, this potentially awkward question Twilight and I had prepared ourselves for. Seeing as we couldn't just tell everypony we met that we were from the future, we had decided, with Starswirl's agreement, to say that we were relatives of a distance branch of his family, coming down from the North to visit a favourite uncle. I repeated this to the Kommandant, and after a moment he seemed to accept my statement. "Hmm... I see."

I waited to see if any more conversation would be forthcoming, but evidently the Kommandant was not the most talkative of ponies, and we trotted in silence until we reached the door to the dininghall. Here Clémentine insisted we arrange ourselves into the correct, socially acceptable order for entry: herself first as host, then Clover as the senior female guest, then me, then Étoire as the senior male guest, and finally von Orkan.

As well all sedately traipsed in, I was surprised to see two other ponies already seated at the dinner table. Clémentine immediately took Clover and myself round to be introduced. "Mesdames," she began, "I would like you both to meet my charmant sister, Madamoiselle Chérie, and her gouvernante Madamoiselle Papillon de Jaune." She then repeated our names to Chérie and to Mam'zelle de Jaune, who both smiled graciously.

Madamoiselle Chérie was almost a perfect miniature version of Clémentine, and it was easy to spot the family resemblance. With the same pure white coat and a soft-mauve mane, it was clear that, within time she would grow to be as great a beauty as her sister. Mam'zelle de Jaune, however, was obviously not related - she was a pegaus, in an age when cross-racial unions were still frowned upon. She had pale yellow fur and a light, mint green mane and tail. Her eyes, which never quite seemed to look anypony fully in the face, were a matching, slightly darker shade of green. She smiled gently after our introduction, and offered the seat on her left - Chérie was on her right - for either Clover or myself to sit down.

I did so, with Mam'zelle de Jaune on my right, and Clover on my left. Clockwise from the head of the table, which stood near the largest fireplace I had ever seen - not lit today, thankfully, for despite the growing draft from outside it was still a hot day - the diners were arranged thus: Clémentine at the head, Chérie, Mam'zelle de Jaune, myself, and Clover down the righthandside, Étoire at the foot of the table, and three empty places then the Kommandant along the left. Two of the empty places were filled a few moments later, when two more arrived to join the meal. As Étoire and von Orkan politely rose from their seats, Clémentine introduced them to me and Clover.

"Zis" - she pointed a perfectly manicured forehoof at the younger of the two new mangeurs, a young pegasus probably about the same age as Chérie - "is Poulepourpre, who is a companion to my belle Chérie. You may call her Poulette. Et ça, c'est Mam'zelle Celette d'Huitain. She is the conductor and composer of my own, personal orchestre, and also mon ami proche."

Poulette was relatively small for her apparent age, but seemed to have no difficulty in putting away vast amounts of fodder. She was pale blue in colouring, not unlike the Kommandant, with a darker blue mane and tale. She had yet to gain her cutiemark, and so wore the customary cape of the time to cover her flank and hindlegs. Chérie, who sat almost opposite, also wore this manteau de jeunesse. The last named diner, Mam'zelle d'Huitain, I was surprised to see was an earth-pony; to have an earth-pony sitting at the dinnertable with members of the unicorn élite was most unusual at this time. She had a creamy-grey coat with a soft grey mane, and spoke in a demure and calm manner. And, most refreshingly for me, she spoke Old Earthponese without a trace of a unicorn or pegaus accent, evidently a native speaker from birth.

As she was sitting directly across the table from me, we fell naturally into conversation. Though initially rather reserved, and polite but not forthcoming, she gradually opened up as the meal progressed. Celette, as she asked me to call her, told me more about the de Platine family, and how she came to work for Clémetine (whom she consistently referred to as 'Madame Platine'). Naturally assuming I was from the North as I had told her, she also taught me a lot about the surrounding countryside, being familiar with the lands hereabouts from her own foalhood. I could not, of course, tell her that I was from the same area myself, but two thousand years in the future!

Throughout the meal I noticed several things which seemed to me to be worthy of remembering, which I shall recount here. Firstly, I apparently wasn't the only one who felt perturbed by Clémentine and Étoire's easy familiarity. Von Orkan, rarely engaging in any form of conversation with anypony, barely reacted to anything or to anyone, but would frown almost unnoticeably whenever the two shared a joke down the length of the table. Secondly, Étoire seemed rather more... infantile than I would have expected. More than once he played little tricks on his fellow diners, including making von Orkan's fork bend most ridiculously between mouthfuls, and causing the soup tureen to walk itself to anyone who desired more soup, and to disgorge itself into their bowl. Clémentine, and the two fillies, seemed to find these nonsenses most amusing, but they were alone in doing so. Mam'zelle Jaune appeared almost frightened of the tureen, and always inspected her cutlery carefully before taking a bite. Von Orkan retained his sullen silence throughout, and even Celette, who had warmed sufficiently enough to actually complement me on my manestyle, remained a rather frigid disposition towards Étoire. Clover, meanwhile, often appeared lost in thought, jumping whenever I attempted to address her.

All in all, though the meal was indubitably delightful, I couldn't help but feel relieved when it was over. As the servants came in to take away the empty dishes and plates - not without being threatened with a soaking by the energetic tureen - Clémentine invited the adults to pass through into the chambre arrière. Mam'zelle Jaune gently, almost ineffectually, cajoled Chérie and Poulette upstairs to bed, leaving just myself and Clover, Clémentine, the Kommandant, Étoire and Celette together to talk quietly amongst ourselves.

The Kommandant, evidently bored of our company, settled himself down into a sumptuous armchair, opened a hefty-looking tome which lay close to hoof, lit an enormous pipe, and ignored everypony else for the remainder of the evening. Étoire, having regained some of his maturity following the closure of the meal, stood in a corner with Clover, the two of them whispering in urgent undertones to each other. What they were saying seemed important, somehow, but I couldn't hear them well enough to discover why. This left Clémentine, Celette and myself to gather around a small occasional table and play cards.

The game we played was not one with which I was familiar, and I remember neither the name nor how to play. It involved collecting sets of four cards, or doubles, but I found the scoring rather confusing and lost every time, despite the best efforts of my hosts to educate me. What didn't help was the slight lightheadedness which I was beginning to feel, brought on no doubt by the lowering pressure of the imminent storm, and which worsened whenever, in the course of explaining the rules to me, Clémentine brushed her hoof against mine. The soft, unruffled fur of her foreleg, the exquisitely manicured hoof and fetlock, the playful twinkle in her eye as I made some silly mistake... as the game progressed, I found myself losing my concentration, hardly bearing to look away from the radiant beauty before me. Eventually, however, the cards worked themselves out, the last quatuor was completed, and the spell was broken.

Clémentine stood up, still smiling despite my inadequacy at the game. "Écoute!" she entreated me and Celette, "Listen to ze wind, how he blows!"

We stood there, listening in silence. The wind had picked up by now quite substantially, and was roaring down the unlit chimney. The wooden frames of the windows rattled, and trees could be heard creaking in the gardens. Then we heard it - the first long, low rumble of thunder. The storm was breaking at last.

Glancing at the grandfather clock by the door to the hall, I was surprised at how the time had flown. It was now well past nine in the evening, and completely dark outside. If Clover, Étoire and I were to make it back to his tower tonight we had better leave immediately.

I trotted over the plush carpet to where they stood, now gazing out into the storm. A moment later Clémentine joined us, and stood close by my shoulder. I was about to remind Clover and Étoire of the time when she spoke, allaying my fears. "Worry not, mesdames et monsieur. I shall not be so rude as to send you all out into ze storm. Never fear! For you shall all spend the night wiz me."

Just managing not to blush as the thought of 'spending the night' with Clémentine, I thanked her stammeringly. "Why th-thank you! That is most kind. We don't wish to be a burden, th-"

"Ai! Non, non, non. Zou shalt not be a burden, no indeed. Comest zou, Lumiette, et tu Clover, et tu, mon ami Étoire. We shall find rooms for you all, n'est pas?"

She led us back along the hall and up the long, wide staircase. Celette came as well, leaving just the Kommandant alone in the chambre arrière. Celette left us at the first landing for her own bedroom, closing the door softly behind her after bidding us all a pleasant night. The rest of us padded quietly up the second flight to the next floor, being careful at Clémentine's request that we try not to wake Chérie and Poulette, who also slept on this étage. Eventually we arrived outside three unoccupied rooms running along the lefthand wall of the second floor, into which Clémentine bid us enter. The bedrooms were fully furnished with a double fourposter bed, a chest-of-drawers and sitting-chair, and a simple washbasin, and were evidently kept in readiness for occasions such as these.

"Voila! Here is a room for each one of you. Everysing you will need is here, and if you require any new clozes, zen I am more zan happy to provide. Please do not hesitate to ring ze bells if you require any little sing. Breakfast at eight in ze morning is bon, I trust?" She smiled as we nodded and thanked her. "In zat case I shall bid you all bonne nuit. Until ze morning!" And with that, she trotted softly across the landing to her own dortoirs.

Then the three of us, Étoire, Clover and myself, also went to bed. I had the room directly opposite Clémentine, Clover's was adjacent to mine, and Étoire was to sleep in the room to her right. After yawning a polite bonne nuit to Clover and Étiore, I stepped inside and shut the door, feeling suddenly very tired. After a quick wash in the basin, I drew the heavy curtains, slipped beneath the covers, and drifted peacefully off to sleep, with the sound of the storm outside as a lullaby. Within minutes I had succumbed to the Land of Nod.


* * *


What felt like only a few minutes later, but in reality must have been several hours, I awoke with a start. I had the feeling that some loud crash had woken me, but couldn't be sure. I felt stuffy and uncomfortable, and clambered woozily out of bed to open the window. The storm had by now abated to a light drizzle, and I put my hoof out, savouring the cool dampness of the rain on my hot fur. Then I stumbled with the clumsiness of sleep back to my bed, snuggled beneath the covers once more, and fell into a fitful doze.

Suddenly, a piercing, female scream rang out from the landing, followed by a hollow thump. Immediately wide awake, I leapt out of bed, tripping over the sheets in my haste, and galloped to the door. I slammed it open - and gave vent to a gasp of dismay at the sight that met my astonished eyes.