Silvertongue’s mansion was fit for a feudal lord, a great fortified building that stood atop a hill to the northwest of Ponyville. From here, Mythic Aurora could see almost the entire city.
Just the fact that he chooses to live here tells me more about him than anything else, she mused as she glided a few feet over the ground, headed up the hill.
A stone wall surrounded the property. She landed in front of the iron gates set in the entrance. As she rang the doorbell next to the gates, she studied the walls themselves, noting the wards marked into the bricks every few yards.
Strengthening wards, a motion detection spell that’ll alert the guards if somepony climbs the wall, and an anti-flight charm, she noted. Flying in and out of the mansion or climbing the wall won’t be an option, then.
A Cerberus unicorn security guard teleported to the gate. “State your business,” he said, glaring at Mythic Aurora.
Mythic reached into her coat and extracted a golden badge bearing the flag of Equestria. “I am here on Royal Duty,” she said. “I must speak with Mister Silvertongue.”
The guard’s eyes widened upon viewing the badge. “Please wait here,” he said in a much more respectful tone. He reached into a phone box next to the gate and spoke into it. “Sir, it’s a royal messenger,” he said. “They want to speak to you…”
There was a long pause while the guard listened. Mythic listened closely: she could just hear Silvertongue’s muffled speech on the other side. While she could not hear his words, she could hear his tone: excited, rushed words, a tinge of desperation beneath his hope.
“Yes, sir,” the guard nodded and hung up the phone. “Come with me, please,” he said to Mythic, unlatching the gate. The iron bars swung aside with a loud squeak.
Mythic stepped forward, repressing a flinch as she felt herself pass through the anti-flight wards. The familiar buzzing magic of her pegasus flight faded from her wings: she felt like they might as well have been severed.
Maintaining a stoic expression, she followed the guard up the dirt pathway that wound up the hill to the large steps of the front of the mansion. As she walked, she panned her eyes back and forth, observing the grounds beneath the midmorning light. A single earth pony guard carrying a pump-action shotgun over his shoulder walked past, a large black Gerwhin shepherd on a leash in front of him. The dog looked in Mythic’s direction and growled quietly, but moved on after his master gently tugged on the leash.
She walked up the stairway to the massive doors, which were guarded by a single unicorn guard smoking a cigarette. The guard gave her a brief nod as she used her magic to unhook a set of keys from her belt and unlatch the door, allowing her entry. Mythic stepped into a grand hallway, lit by a crystalline chandelier. Upon one wall was a massive painting depicting the fabled Saint Megan and several of her fellow humans, the mythical creatures descending from the skies carrying things like hoes, pottery wheels, and telescopes, ready to bequeath the awed ponies below with the gifts of their knowledge.
Before her were two other security guards, standing in front of a golden arch. “Step through, please,” one of the guards said, waving her forward.
Mythic stepped through the arch, which instantly turned red and let out an angry buzzing noise like a nest of hornets. One of the guards, a broad-shouldered earth pony, held up a warning hoof, adjusting his duty belt so that the electric baton clipped to his hip was in easier reach. “Hold it. Take the coat off.”
Mythic scowled but removed her coat, exposing the bulletproof vest and holster beneath. “No guns in the mansion,” the guard said, holding out his hoof for it.
“This is a service weapon,” Mythic stated, placing a hoof protectively over her grip. “You’re not taking it.”
The guard scowled for a moment, then just grunted and nodded for her to follow. Mythic and the guard proceeded through the doors at the end of the hallway, noting the pair of security crystals mounted in the ceiling that watched her every move. Entering the doors, she found herself in a room decorated entirely in shades of blue. The windows were tinted in blue, and every single painting, sculpture, and item in the room was colored in blue, save for one: a suit of armor standing in the corner. The black suit of armor was a full head taller than her, and featured a crested helmet with a faceplate that looked kind of like a tragedy mask, only with narrower eyeholes.
Standing in the center of the room was Silvertongue himself, smiling as he held a glass of wine in his magic. A bottle of wine and another glass sat on a small table next to him. “Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted her with a nod. “How can I be of service to their Highnesses?”
“You have something that is of value to Princess Celestia,” Mythic Aurora said, keeping her voice neutral, a verbal mask to give nothing away. “She wants it back.”
The glimmer in Silvertongue’s eyes told her that he knew what she was talking about. "Will you do me the honor of joining me?" he asked, gesturing towards the bottle and glass on the table next to him.
Her silent glare was all the answer he required. He shrugged and put the bottle away. "A shame; there is no reason we cannot discuss this over drinks," he sighed. “Now, if I even had such an item that is of royal interest, what would Her Highness give me in return?”
“Any price that a foreign entity would pay for the item would be doubled,” Mythic offered. “You’d be given fortune, influence.” She paused a beat. “If you so wished, information.”
Silvertongue seemed to ponder this for several long moments, swirling the wine in his glass and jingling the silver bracelet on his wrist. Mythic took the time to scan the room once more. This time, she noticed the two security crystals mounted near the ceiling in opposite corners, barely discernible amidst the shadows. There was also another shadow beneath the curtains on the grand blue-tinted windows; this, upon closer inspection, proved to be a rolled up steel shutter that was designed to slam down over the window. There were more shutters over both the doors to the room, partially obscured by the decorative curtains.
Upon one wall was a painting of a beach, white-capped waves crashing against the pale sands, with a solid gold frame. There was another painting with a golden frame on the opposite wall, an abstract image that looked like a sky dotted with clouds and suns.
“I suppose I would need more specifics on what exactly she might be willing to offer,” Silvertongue finally said, looking up. “And more time to consider what would be worth asking for.”
Mythic could hear the undertone of glee in his words, a slight purring behind his speech like that of a cat who anticipates a mouse falling into their paws, a total surety of being in charge. Her heart rate sped up.
“Her Highness wishes to meet in person, here in the mansion,” she said.
“I see,” Silvertongue said, a tone of victory behind the strains of control. “Perhaps tonight, at around 9:30? I would be most glad to entertain her.”
Tonight? An alarm bell rang in Mythic’s head. They had agreed that they needed more time to plan their raid: tonight was too close a deadline. “I’m sorry, sir, but the Princess is busy—”
“As am I,” Silvertongue interrupted. “I suppose if the Princess were too busy, I could find another client that would be just as interested in my goods as her…” The way his voice trailed off at the end in victory, a lilting note of teasing, set Mythic’s teeth on edge.
“Very well, then,” she said slowly. “I will pass the message on to her Highness. We will see you again tonight.”
“I look forward to it,” Silvertongue said, bowing politely. He turned away and walked through the doors on the wall opposite, dismissing her.
“Come,” the guard ordered Mythic, holding open the door she had come through. As she turned, Mythic glanced back over her shoulder. For a moment, she could’ve sworn that the suit of armor in the corner had turned slightly and was staring right at her with its narrow, empty eyes.
The door shut and the moment passed. Exhaling out her tension, Mythic walked back through the arch, which once again buzzed angrily as she passed through, though she paid it no mind. She pushed through the doors and stepped out of the mansion. Descending the pathway, she stepped through the iron gates, which closed behind her. The return of the sensation of magic to her wings was an immense relief: spreading her appendages, she took to the sky and flew back towards the city.
“He’s got a Netitus Security Gate in the front hallway,” Mythic reported, laying chestdown on one of the beds in the hotel room. “It’ll disable any kind of enchantments for anypony who steps through it: disguises, invisibility, what have you, and you can’t teleport through it.”
“And there’s no room to go around it?” Arc asked, munching on a slice of the pizza that they’d ordered.
“No,” Mythic confirmed.
“You only went as far as the first room?” Daring asked, bending over a blueprint of the mansion that she’d gotten from the public records office spread over the floor.
“Yes,” Mythic confirmed, taking up a pencil. “I saw security crystals here and here, on opposite sides of the room. I also noticed that there were steel shutters over the doors and the windows. They look recent.”
“Silvertongue’s beefing up security,” Daring muttered, scanning the blueprints. The large maps were dotted with arrows, dots, and lines to represent guards and hazards: notes and questions were scrawled into corners and margins. “Did you see any paintings with golden frames in that room?”
Mythic thought for a few moments. “Two,” she said, pointing to two of the blue room’s walls. “One on the wall here, and another on the wall there.”
Daring tapped her chin with a pencil in thought. The other ponies could almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Biggest issue will be the crystals…”
“Arc, can you apply your invisibility spell to other ponies?” Phillip asked, chewing on another slice.
Arc swallowed his own slice before answering. “I can, but I have to be close to the object I’m casting it on, or the spell fades.”
“Try it on me,” Daring said, standing.
Arc looked at Daring and lit up his horn with a blue aura. That same aura surrounded Daring, who squirmed, letting out a hissing gasp. "Th-that tickles!" she cried.
"Stay still," Arc said, face creased with determination.
Daring began to fade from view; she stared down at her own, now semi-transparent hoof, eyes wide with amazement. A moment later, she disappeared entirely. "Well, it works," her voice came from where she'd been standing. "This is weird...I can barely see my own hooves." There was the sound of hoofsteps as she walked around in a circle. "Everything's kinda fuzzy, too."
“Ah, yeah, that’s a secondary spell I had to add,” Arc explained. “See, the spell works by bending light around you: if there’s no light hitting you, you can’t be seen. The thing is, if there’s no light going into your eyes, you can’t see. I had to tinker with the spell so that just enough light goes into your eyes without making them easily visible.”
“How well can you see?” Phillip asked.
“Well, the colors are all muted, and there’s not much detail,” Daring’s voice said. “Not much depth, either. Is this you?”
Phillip suddenly yelped and jumped, his tail instinctively wrapping around his flank to shield it. “Daring!”
“Yup, that’s you,” Daring sniggered. “I’d know that ass anywhere.”
Arc laughed heartily and lifted the invisibility spell, revealing Daring standing behind Phil.
“Still need to get past that gate,” Phillip said.
Daring pondered some more for a moment, then her eyes brightened with the birth of an idea. “Remember Twisted Root?” she asked.
Phillip scowled. “Yes.”
“I’m remembering how he was able to sneak in and out of places by using that shrinking violet,” Daring said. “Maybe we could shrink ourselves down to get around it.”
“That would require a lot of magical energy, though,” Arc said, sitting up. “Here’s the thing: magic can only bend the laws of physics so far. And one of the laws of physics is that you can’t destroy energy or matter, only convert it from one form to another.”
“He’s right,” Celestia said, sitting up on the other bed. “Shrinking violet pollen works by holding the energy from the shrinking in stasis around the subject, then transferring the energy back, but prepping the pollen for that takes time and equipment that we do not have.”
“So where else would we get the energy?” Daring asked.
Celestia smirked. “I might have an idea or two,” she said.
“Sounds good,” Daring nodded, grabbing another slice. “Hey, who thought it’d be a good idea to put pineapples on this?”
“I’m sorry, did you want brussels sprouts on it?” Phillip asked dryly.
They continued planning through lunch and right up until sunset, bouncing ideas until they had formulated a plan, and four backup plans. Celestia stood up and stretched.
“Sergeants, I want to make this clear,” she said to her two guards. “Should we become caught in this attempt, I will take full responsibility for everything. If either of you do not wish to be a part of this, you may leave at any time.”
“My place is at your side, Your Highness,” Arc said firmly. “Besides, I know what he’s done. I want this bastard to face justice, too.”
“I couldn’t talk you out of this if I tried,” Mythic said flatly. “And I’m already guilty of conspiracy anyway. In for a bit, in for a gold bar.” She paused for a beat, then half-smiled. “Besides, who else is gonna save your butts?”
Celestia smiled and drew both of her guards in with her wings, hugging them gently. “Thank you.”
“I need a cig,” Daring muttered, stretching her wings. She walked out onto the balcony, pulling a pack of Blue Camel from her shirt. Extracting a single stick, she lit it with her lighter and took a long draw, filling her lungs with the smoke. She sighed out the taste into the cold air, but it did nothing to relieve the stress that clung to her like a vise around her spine and heart. She shivered in the winter air, a light snowfall kissing her face. She looked up, but clouds covered the sky, blocking her view of the stars. The cold, endless black made more shivers run down her wings.
The balcony door slid open behind her and she turned to see Phillip emerging onto the balcony. He held out his hoof expectantly, and she handed him another cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and lit it with his own lighter. He closed his eyes as he took a drag, letting out the smoke with a noise of contentment.
“Phil…” Daring started to say, unable to articulate the words.
He reached out and grasped her hoof, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast from the winter air. He didn’t say anything, just leaned against her, sharing their warmth. She wrapped a wing around his back, pulling him closer. They stood out there on the balcony for several long minutes of silence, watching the lights of the city before them; the only sound was the whistling wind and the distant sound of motors and horns.
“Daring?” Phillip finally said.
“Yeah?”
“It’s bloody cold out here.”
Daring chuckled and flicked her cigarette away. “Yeah, let’s head inside before we get hypothermia and have to throw the plan out.” They turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind them.
“What exactly do we know so far?” Red said, rubbing his forehead.
“Not much,” Trace admitted.
“We do!” Flash said, pacing in a circle around the lab. He studied the photographs that still hovered in the air around them, held in Twilight’s magic. “Okay, let me see if I can figure out a timeline here.”
“We know that Meadow Dance left her job at the art studio at seven PM that night,” Twilight said. “She was abducted from her home.”
“And how was she abducted?” Flash muttered, looking at the pictures. He paused in front of a picture that displayed the kitchen, with a few bags of groceries sitting on the counter. “She’d gotten home from the grocery store and was unpacking.”
“And somepony ambushed her and took her,” Trace said, rubbing his face.
Flash looked to a photograph of Meadow Dance. It showed a picture of a blue-white earth pony with long, wavy green and yellow hair. She had pale blue eyes, a small, smiling mouth, and her cutie mark was a silhouette of a dancing pony.
“How did they take her?” Flash asked.
“The mirror,” Trace said, pointing to another group of pictures. This one showed a living room with a set of sofas, a low coffee table, and a fireplace. Next to the fireplace was a shattered floor-length mirror, laying on the floor. A close-up of the mirror showed blood on the fragments.
“Somepony caught her off guard in the living room,” Trace said flatly. “Slammed her head against the mirror and knocked her out, then carried her out.”
“But how did they get in?” Flash asked. “There’s no sign of forced entry…” He paused. “There was no forced entry. And she was ambushed in the living room, not the kitchen.” His eyes brightened with an idea. “I think she knew her kidnapper! She went and let him in, and they followed her into the living room!”
Red and Trace looked at each other. “The kid might be onto something,” Red admitted.
“True,” Trace nodded. “So, besides her husband, who else was she close to?”
Twilight quickly flipped through a folder stuffed with files. Snatching one out, she scanned it quickly. “Yes!” she cried. “Her brother, Rhythm Blossom. He lives about ten miles away from her. He was interviewed when Meadow was initially interviewed, but he had an alibi.”
“It might be worth interviewing him again,” Red said.
“Might be,” Trace said, wiping his face.
“Hang on, there’s something interesting here,” Twilight said, reviewing the notes. “He mentions that Meadow Dance has a genetic disorder; her marrow doesn’t produce enough blood. She has to take a potion once a week for it. He’s usually in charge of buying it for her; she often forgets.”
Trace frowned in thought for a moment, his brow creasing. “What apothecary did he buy it from? I think I have an idea.”
The bells of the City Hall clocktower rang out the quarter of the hour. Mythic Aurora, Sunny Skies, and Daring Do flew across the night sky, Phillip and Arc being carried by Daring and Mythic. They landed at the mouth of the road that led up to Silvertongue’s mansion. The lights of the mansion were visible, glowing against the clouds, but the mansion itself could not be seen. Nor could anypony up there see them.
“If anypony wishes to turn back,” Celestia announced grimly, looking up the hill. “This is your last chance.”
Nopony said anything.
“Very well,” Celestia said, turning to the others. “Arc, Phillip, Daring, prepare yourselves.” She lowered her head slightly and closed her eyes. A horn appeared on her head, which began to glow with a golden light. That same golden light surrounded the three ponies, who slowly began to shrink down until they were each no more than a half inch tall.
“Wow,” Daring said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “I see why ponies look up to you.”
Celestia laughed heartily, while the other three ponies all groaned. Lighting up her horn once more, Celestia lifted the tiny ponies up off the ground and placed them on her back. Arc lit up his horn, and the three ponies faded from view.
“No sudden movements, please, Your Highness,” Arc’s voice said.
“Don’t worry,” Celestia assured them, her horn disappearing. “Come, Mythic.”
Mythic followed Celestia up the pathway to the mansion and rang the doorbell at the gates. A guard once more teleported to the gate. Without a word, he instantly reached for the lever on the other side and pulled it, opening the gates. “Follow me,” he said, gesturing.
“Of course,” Celestia said, following the guard at a safe distance. Mythic remained by her side with every step.
They ascended the pathway and proceeded into the entrance hallway. As the doors closed behind them, Celestia stretched her wings, lowering both tips towards the ground. In a maneuver that they’d spent many hours practicing, Arc, Daring, and Phillip, still invisible, quickly climbed across Celestia’s back and slid down her wing to land on the floor.
Alighting on the floor, Daring looked up, breathing heavily. Celestia, Mythic, and the Cerberus guards were all giants from her perspective. Giant, fuzzy, washed-out silhouettes of ponies. She stuck close to Phillip and Arc, whom she saw as a pair of faintly glowing blue silhouettes, ensuring that she remained within range of Arc. Their steps silent, they scurried along the floor, darting in between guards’ hooves and around the security gate. Reaching the doors at the end of the room, they paused to wait for the others.
Mythic proceeded through the security gate, which once again turned red and buzzed angrily. A guard swept her over, but again found nothing but her service weapon. Then Sunny Skies was waved through. As soon as she passed through the gate, the disguise spell that she had bound to herself vanished, revealing her true appearance. She looked around at the other guards with a cold expression, prompting all of them to half-kneel.
“Please follow me,” the same burly earth pony from before said, walking through the doors. Mythic and Celestia followed. Unseen and unheard by anypony, the three invisible ponies darted through the door before it closed.
They entered the blue room. The guard proceeded through the room and into the next room with his two charges. As the door closed, the spell that Celestia had used to shrink the trio began to fade away, causing all of them to slowly grow back to normal size. Still invisible, they spread out to search the room.
“Not this one,” Phillip said, scanning the painting of the beach scene.
“No notebook in this one, either,” Daring said, studying the painting of the sky. She glanced at the armor on the stand. Hmm...Chineighse, I think. Third Dynasty, if I'm not mistaken. This must've cost him a fortune by itself.
“No other gold-framed paintings here,” Arc said. “Let’s go to the next room.”
They proceeded to the doorway. Arc looked up at the security crystals and lit up his horn again. A haze appeared around both crystals, temporarily jamming their transmissions and freezing their images. It would only fool the guards for a few moments, but a few moments was all Daring needed to open the door, usher everypony through, and close it behind them.
They found themselves in a room that was colored in shades of yellow, including another suit of armor in the corner. Pegasus armor from pre-Equestria? Daring thought, noticing the curved crest on the golden helmet and the sharpened wing guards that would both protect the wearer's wings and act as an extra weapon, slashing at any foes that got too close. And it's definitely not just a recreation: that coat of arms on the collar is real enough. Wonder where that was dug out of.
She looked around and felt her heart fall as she noticed that most of the paintings in this room had golden frames. “This is gonna take a while,” she muttered.
The guard led Celestia and Mythic into the black and red room at the end. Silvertongue was waiting for them, sitting at the head of the table. He was framed by his coat of arms, the hoof crushing the snake intimidating as ever. He had a cat-like smirk on his face. Sitting on the table before him was a bottle of Amontillado, fresh from the wine cellar, and two glasses.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Your Highness,” he greeted Celestia with a low bow, pulling aside a chair with his magic. Celestia sat down as Mythic took her place behind her. The guard stepped out of the room, locking the door behind him.
“Some wine?” Silvertongue offered, filling both of the glasses.
“No, thank you,” Celestia said, politely dismissing the offer with a wave of her hoof. “I prefer to do my negotiations sober.”
“If you insist,” Silvertongue said, taking a long swig from his own glass. “So, let us put all our cards on the table. You know I have the treaty, and that I am willing to sell it to a foreign power.”
“And I know that there is nothing you value more than information,” Celestia said. “I also know that I could have you arrested for taking the treaty.”
“But you cannot prove that I have it, nor can you ascertain any connection between myself and the late Josephus. For the record, I was very upset when I learned from his death," Silvertongue added, frowning. "We both wish he could've gone home to his wife and child."
Celestia scowled, her hoof twitching a couple times and a quiet growl rumbling in the back of her throat, but said nothing.
"Not to mention that there are likely details that I could let slip that could be harmful to this nation in the wrong hooves," Silvertongue continued. "Such as, for example, what really happened to Captain Alastair. The North Griffon Empire still believes that his death was at the claws of griffon rebels...I wonder how they’d react if they learned otherwise.”
Celestia took in a breath through her nostrils. “I am willing to part with...information that would be of use to you. In exchange for the treaty, and your silence.”
Silvertongue leaned forward, placing his chin atop his hooves. “I am interested.”
They’d searched the yellow, green, orange, and white rooms without success. Finally, they had passed into the purple room. The three ponies walked slowly along the walls, scanning the paintings. Daring felt her eyes continually turning to face the armor in the corner. The demonic mask seemed to be grinning back at her no matter where she stood in the room.
“Daring,” Phillip whispered. “Look at this one.”
She tore her attention from the armor and studied the painting in front of her and Phil. This one was in a golden frame, and featured an image of a pond at night. A thin sliver of the moon was visible in the dark purple sky, which was reflected in the trembling waters. Cattails and reeds stood up from the ground, silhouetted against the sky.
But instantly visible amid the purples and violet watercolors was a splotch of red, half-hidden in the mud.
Daring reached out towards the painting. To her surprise, her hoof went right into the painting; it felt like she was pushing her hoof through a waterfall. She slowly leaned forward, placing her head through the painting.
A moment later, she felt herself falling, then landed in soft mud. Looking around, she found herself standing beside a pond beneath a violet-colored night sky. The cold mud squelched beneath her hooves, and there was the distant sound of a soft wind rustling through the reeds, bringing the faint scent of water and grass to her nostrils. She turned around to see that there was a great purple wall behind her. Set in the wall was an enormous golden frame; the room that she just left was visible through it, the image slightly washed out as though she was viewing it through a waterfall.
She turned and saw the little splotch of red in the ground before her. She walked forward and shifted the mud aside, revealing a large red spiral notebook, with several of the pages bookmarked with colored slips. She opened it up and started flipping through it. Every page was covered with hoofwriting and notes: photographs, documents, letters, and other papers were attached to most of the pages.
Daring frowned and flipped through the notebook, studying the contents. “Hmm,” she mused to herself, her voice echoing within the painting. Flipping to the front of the book, she found herself looking at a red bookmark with a name scrawled onto it.
“Sombra,” Daring whispered.
Attached to the page was a folded up letter with a crusty wax seal bearing a shield with a snowflake on it. Unfolding the letter, she scanned the contents. Her eyes widened, then a grin spread across her face.
Tucking the notebook into her shirt, she turned and leaped out of the frame, landing back in the real world. “I’ve got it!” she excitedly whispered. "You know, that was kind of anticlimactic. Could've done with at least a monster or two guarding it."
“Good,” Phillip said. “Now we can get out—”
A clanking noise interrupted them. Turning, they all gasped in shock as they saw the demon-faced suit of armor climbing off the platform it stood upon, moving under its own power. The eyeholes and mouth of the mask glowed with a sickly yellow-green light. The suit of armor paused in the center of the room, panning its head from side to side.
“Spread out,” Arc whispered. He, Phillip, and Daring all began to slowly move away from one another. The armor continued looking around, its gaze passing right over each of them.
It can’t see us, Daring thought with relief.
Suddenly, its eyes glowed red and locked onto Arc’s position. In a single motion, it charged forward and punched Arc in the face, sending the unicorn flying through the door and crashing back into the white room, where he lay dazed against a stone column. The invisibility spell faded away, revealing Phillip and Daring. The armor turned its glowing red eyes upon them.
At the same moment, an alarm started ringing and the steel shutters slammed down over the doors and windows. Blue energy covered the walls, trapping them inside.
Phillip and Daring looked at each other, then back at the armor, which glared back at them.
“Fuck,” they both muttered at once.