//------------------------------//
// 31.2 Spinning Lies into Cotton 
// Story: Prey and a Lamb 
// by Lambs Prey 
//------------------------------//

Extract taken from - Griffionia: A Brief History

939 A.C. ~ "Of note, a minor plague afflicted a hoof full of towns and villages in the Northern most provinces of the Low King's lands. Occurring during the winter months, and lingered into the spring, this resulted in a lower trade revenue than previous years for the Low King."

A 'minor plague'. That was the whole extent of the summary for the year 939, recorded in the ponies history book. A minor plague in the Low Kingdom. Most ponies didn't even realise that Griffiona was split into two kingdoms, and even fewer would remember the 'minor' plague that never came to Equestria. And those who did hear of it in later years assumed it had been nothing major. Surely if it had been major, it would be taught in history in school? 

Out of sight and out of mind for ponies. A minor plague they wrote in their history books. Ha. Minor.

The griffins did not call it minor. They called it the Blood Feather Plague, and it flew through the Low Kingdom on wings as red as its name. Fatal in three out of ten cases, it destroyed lives and families.

And what no pony, scholar or otherwise, seemed to realise was that the Blood Feather Plague was still around to this day. Not as wide spread now, but still lurking there. And while there were treatments, there still existed no cure.

But the Blood Feather Plague was only contagious in griffins. An equine could not catch it. Thus, it passed completely by the ponies' notice.





Ever opened your eyes and remembered you found four gruesomely murdered ponies yesterday? Ever experienced the weight settling on your chest like a hopeless blanket, followed by trying to summon up the will power to take first step out of bed? 

Well, Gloom and Crimson could now join Prey in the club saying they had.


------


The ISND only spoke with two people on their way out to the Luxury Linen offices that morning. The first conversation was actually initiated by Prey, as completely unexpected as that was. It was to Cookie, the cook, as she dished out this mornings meal. It'd been so early that the breakfast line had been basically non-existent, thus the three of them were able to get their food without delay.

The 'conversation' was actually just an exchange of cheerful pleasantries from Prey, acting the lamb again. Prey's smiles and laughs were more than enough to distract Cookie from noticing the glassy look in the eyes of the two ponies following Prey.

Cookie just smiled back, chided Prey for missing breakfast yesterday, waved him goodbye as Crimson carried their trays away, and noticed nothing amiss.

The second person they spoke to was Lieutenant Screech, to update him on what they were doing, and when they were expecting to be back from investigating the Luxury Linen store.


---


Beyond the sparking white walls of the Palace, it was still early morning, with most shops and stores not even yet opened when the ISND first knocked on the Luxury Linen's office door.

The office was actually the building above the much larger Luxury Linen store below, stacked on top of one another. The store itself had a purple and white decorated store front, and stylised plaster edgings made to look like golden tassels.

If warehouse 7B had been in 'Lower' Canterlot, and the Palace was 'Upper' Canterlot, then the Luxury Linen store was firmly situated in what could reasonably be called 'Middle Canterlot.' 

The research Corporal Humming had done showed that the Luxury Linen store here in Canterlot was one of two. The other was situated up in Manehatton, with both stores being supplied by the main production factory based outside the second city, so as to be closer to the cotton farms.

The store in Canterlot may have only been Luxury Linen's second expansion, but it seemed they were aiming for the top, since their initial success in Manehatton had given them enough confidence to try here in the capital city of Equestria. 


---


And that was where the ISND found themselves early this Tuesday morning, having pushed opened the stairwell gate and walked up the stairs to the office. 

Prey wasn't quite sure of the logic behind a gate if you didn't lock it. Or perhaps they'd realised the futility of such a gesture for something so flimsily made. The gate only came to pony chest height. You could simply climb over it. And one third of the pony population could avoid it all together with a single flap of their wings. In fact, there was no real point to the gate at all.

'It's just to convey the message you should keep out. Not that it will keep you out.'

Gloom checked the office opening times on the sign beside the door. According to the brass notice and what Corporal Humming had confirmed, Luxury Linen should've opened five minutes ago.

Not that any of them had a clock on them, but Prey's internal clock was almost always right to the minute, and besides, he'd double checked against one of the many ornate clock towers they'd passed on the way here.

"Closed, day off, or just late?" Prey suggested.

"We'll wait and see." Gloom said. His voice held the same lack of emotion that was usually reserved for Crimson's dull tones. Prey already knew the Sargent had suffered from nightmares last night, which meant Crimson probably had too.

Prey turned and looked down the steps as his ears caught the far off approaching of hooves, "Here comes someone."

"Somepony." Gloom corrected dully without feeling, as he and Crimson automatically turned to see.

A bookish looking unicorn mare with her grass green mane done up in a bun, wearing a neat blouse, and currently fishing around in her hoofbag for her keys came towards the bottom of the stairs. She reached the gate, opened it, closed it, and started up the steps all without stopping her rummaging.

"Where did they get to this time?" She muttered to herself, frowning as she gave her bag a vigorous shake with her green aura. 

"Aha, got'cha!" She announced to nobody as she finally succeed in retrieving a ring of keys.

Only as she was levitating the keys over to the lock did she look up, and found the ISND silently regarding her. And Prey, but she didn't notice him.

She blinked at them, "Eh?"

Then her brain caught up with her, "Ah!" She exclaimed in surprise and not a little fear, shying back. 

'-stalkers, night pony stalking Night Guards, wait, Guards-', She realised what that meant and came to a halt.

"Pardon me. Do you work here in the Luxury Linen administrative office?" Gloom asked. 

Prey could practically hear the mares heart rate kick up a notch at Gloom's question, '-Night Guards are here at our office. What did we do wrong?-'

No doubt she'd also heard all the usual gossip about how Luna's pet monsters roamed the streets at night devouring foals or some such nonsense.

Usually Gloom didn't let ponies fear of his thestral status bother him. But today was different, in that today Gloom didn't even notice. The ISND all had far more important things on their minds. Things like salt, murder, rats, crates, warehouses, and Prey hiding behind Crimson from unobservant but potentially lethally dangerous unicorn mares.

The mare did manage to keep her cool enough to answer the question though, if barely. 

"Yes, this is Luxury Linen, and my name is Leaflet Spring. I'm the secretary at the offices here. I come first in the mornings to open up." She added, holding up the key ring defensively like it was an alibi to a crime or something.

"Good. We need to speak with somepony in charge here. Are you in a position to answer questions pertaining to your company, Mrs. Leaflet Spring?" Gloom asked.

Leaflet Spring straightened herself and raised her head, "Yes, *Ehem* Yes, I think I am probably the best pony to help you officer." She said, putting on a professional tone. It looked like stepping into her job role was all it took to help calm her down, (even if she still couldn't meet the thestral's eyes).

"Then we would like to ask you for some details about Luxury Linen." Gloom said.

"I think inside might be a better setting for this then officer. Everypony else will start arriving shortly and I can retrieve any records you might need from inside." Leaflet said, inclining her head politely towards the door.

Gloom glanced around at the stairway they were currently blocking, "Yes. After you." He agreed, stepping back from the door to give her adequate space.

Leaflet Spring unlocked the door, and with only a moment of hesitation, lead them in as they waited for her to go first.

The Luxury Linen office was rather small. One large room with four desks with identical set outs, and at the back a door which lead into a privately partitioned office. Prey could confirm it was an office, and not a janitors cupboard, because of the big glass window in place of a wall between the two offices. No doubt the manager's office. Those in charge always had to have the biggest and best of everything.

Prey looked around as Leaflet Spring pulled out a yellow cardboard square from a rack and scribbled on it. Something to do with, '-clocking in-', Prey read from her mind.

As Prey checked for dead angles and possible traps, he was struck by how the office looked distinctly... The word was 'ponyish'. 

Lots of bright colours, photo frames of happy foals on desks, and many useless nick-knacks scattered around, such as ornaments, or a replica dog with an overly large head on a spring. 

'Useless clutter.' Why would anyone choose to surround themselves with such junk?

Prey pretended not to notice the moment when Leaflet Spring noticed him in return. The mare was thrown off her professional attitude for a moment. 

"You...have a foal with you? A lamb even?" She asked uncertainly.

"This is Prey. He is with us, don't mind him." Gloom answered shortly. He was tired of having to answer this question seemingly endless times. '-how does everypony keep missing Prey until half way through our conversation anyway?-'

Leaflet decided to do as the Night Guard Sargent ordered and not worry about Prey. '-I probably don't want to know-', She decided. 

'Clever pony.'

"Well officer, what was it you wanted to ask about Luxury Linen?" Leaflet asked, setting down her hoofbag behind the desk closest to the boss's private back office. 

"You are one half of the company, the other half is set up in Manehatton, correct?" Gloom began.

"Yes, that's correct. Luxury Linen was founded in Manehatton by our owner, Soft Touch. Our office and shop here in Canterlot were opened only two years ago, but already we've seen remarkable growth in sales and soon-"

"Okay thank you." Gloom broke in, cutting off Leaflet Spring's little speech. She blushed in embarrassment, having automatically begun reciting her sales pitch without realising it, like she'd no doubt done with scores of potential investors before.

"Oh, erm, sorry. What else would you like to know officer?" Leaflet asked, reminding herself who she was speaking to.

"How do you deal with goods coming into Canterlot and how do you store them?" Gloom asked, easing into the questions rather than jumping straight into asking; 'Are you dealing salt?' Leaflet Spring was a suspect until proven otherwise, and needed to be treated as such.

"Our site in Manehatton deals with the main distribution, and the production is also handled out there. When we need more stock, we send the order to Manehatton, and they send the required stock back to us. We usually bring in two deliveries a month."

"And how large are these deliveries, and when was your most recent one?" Gloom asked.

"Excuse me one moment, and I'll get that for you officer." Leaflet said, pulling open a filing cabinet with her magic and beginning to rifle through the drawer. While her back was turned, Gloom gave a jerk of his head to Prey and Crimson. 'Look around the office', it said. 

With a nod, both of them detached from behind Gloom and began to do so.

"Here we go," Leaflet Spring said, pulling out a bright pink file, "Now where did I put my glasses?"

Fishing her spectacles out of her bag, she settled them on her nose via magic and opened the folder. "So let's see...The fourth of the month...On the-Okay, here we go. The last delivery only came in two days ago actually, and it was for two hundred more size ten towels, one hundred size seven and eight, and a fifty-fifty split of more lilac and white hoof towels."

Gloom frowned. That did not fit, it was too few. 

"Was this the amount just arriving in this shop here, or into Canterlot total?" He double checked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I misunderstood you officer," Leaflet apologized, "That was only what arrived into the shop. We have a warehouse where we store most of our stock. I take it you wanted the dates and amounts for there instead?" 

'-why do they want to know about the warehouse? Has somepony broken in there?-', Leaflet thought.

"Yes." Gloom said, not elaborating on what the mare was obviously wondering. 

"Oh, alright. I'm sorry for the delay again, let me just get the correct folder...Here we go. So, the latest shipment arrived eleven days ago, for four hundred size ten towels, four hundred size nine-"

"Thank you but that's not relevant. How many crates arrived?" Gloom cut in.

"The... number of crates?" Leaflet paused.

"Yes, the number of crates. Show us the delivery notes of proof please."

"Err, *ehem* I don't think we still have... Let me see if I can find anything." Leaflet said, nervously flicking through the folder although she already knew, '-it won't say anywhere here in here-'. 

Pointless. Prey knew the only reason she was putting on the show was so that the; '-intimidating Night Guard-', wouldn't think she wasn't trying.

"Just, let me go check the rest of the files quickly." Leaflet said after an awkward moment, putting down the pink file and going back to the filing cabinet. Prey and Crimson were poking around the other three desks, but it was already pretty obvious to Prey they weren't going to find anything incriminating. The desks just belonged to normal, boring, privileged pony workers.

His search had been a bit like looking at a snap shot of another world.

At these desks, workers who didn't have to fight or slave for a living, organised and sold luxuries to more privileged ponies in one big endless cycle. Prey grimaced as he inched open a desk draw, finding a jar of glazed nuts and flower petals inside. 'Snacks. Comfort snacks.' He thought shaking his head, 'They wouldn't last five minutes in the wilds.'

Meanwhile, the silence stretched as Leaflet shuffled through the filing cabinet, already certain that she wasn't going to find anything but searching anyway in the hopes she was wrong.

But eventually, Leaflet had no choice but to turn around and admit it. 

"I'm sorry officer, but I don't think we have the delivery notes. I mean, our warehouse worker's kept a personal checklist he submits, but I don't know what's happened to the original delivery notes. If you are willing to wait a few days, we can ask the offices in Manehatton to send copies." Leaflet offered. Even to herself, she sounded overly meek.

'-am I really that afraid of some Luna Guard?-', She asked herself in annoyance. Obviously, the answer was yes.

"To clarify, do you only have one warehouse in Canterlot?" Gloom asked.

"Yes."

"And you don't have the delivery notes. Only a personally written record?"

"Yes."

"And so you don't know for definite how many crates you had in warehouse 7B?"

'-they already know the warehouse number? That can't be good-', Leaflet Spring thought. 

"No." She was forced to admit.

"Alright, forget about that then. Which pony picks up stock from the warehouse when you need to restock the shop?" Gloom asked.

"I think that would be Terry." Leaflet answered after a moments thought.

"You think?"

"I mean, no it is Terry. Terry Golf."

"Good. When will he be arriving?" Gloom asked.

Leaflet's tail started swishing nervously behind her without her notice. Evidently, she had bad news. "Terry Golf hasn't been in for the last three days, he's on sick leave. I don't know if he'll be in today." 

Gloom looked over Leaflet's head to see both Prey and Crimson looking back at him. They all saw the same connection. What were the odds the pony responsible for fetching crates from warehouse 7B would go off sick at the same time the secret salt operation in their warehouse was closed down? 

It was even possible that Terry Golf was now nothing more than a corpse in the morgue.

"And nopony has been able to get in contact with him over these last three days?"

"No." Leaflet said.

"Hmm. Is there anypony else that we can speak to who manages the warehouse?" Gloom suggested.

Leaflet thought for a minute, "The only other pony who sometimes goes to the warehouse when Terry needs help was Mango Nut." She said as her tail started swishing again, already knowing what question was coming next.

"You said 'was' Mango Nut." Gloom stated flatly.

Leaflet's ears lowered a notch, "He no longer works here I'm afraid. He used to work part time, but he turned in his notice a week ago, at the end of last month."

"Hmmm." Gloom hummed again. He looked to Crimson and Prey again and cocked an ear. 'Find anything suspicious in here?' His look silently communicated. 

They both shook their heads in answer. '-oh well, it was a long shot-'

"We're going to need the names, addresses, and any other contact details you have for this Terry Golf and Mango Nut."

"Are they in some kind of trouble?" Leaflet asked hesitantly, having to clear her throat of a tremble on that last syllable. 

'-they're both nice ponies, they wouldn't do anything wrong. We all went to the office party together-' 

"That remains to be seen," Gloom said, evading the question, "Now, their details please."

"We, um, don't have Mango Nut's details anymore. We're supposed to get rid of personal details once somepony leaves." Leaflet said, looking very uncomfortable.

Gloom's mouth turned down, but he caught Prey mouthing something to him from outside Leaflet's field of view, "Ask her."

Gloom wasn't so caught up in the past of yesterday that he couldn't take Prey's hint. 

"But you still remember most of Mango Nut's details, don't you? You would have seen them when you were throwing his folder out. Would you please give what you remember to us?" He asked Leaflet Spring.

At Gloom's prompting, Leaflet realised that yes, she did remember, and nervous guilt flashed through her mind as she agreed, "Well, um, yes." 

'-will he think I was trying to lie to him?-', Leaflet thought, looking anywhere but Gloom's slit eyes. 

Gloom stepped over and Leaflet flinched involuntarily before you could stop herself, "Here, write all that you can remember down." Gloom said, pulling a sheet from the wastepaper basket and giving it to her.

"Oh, oh right of course." Leaflet Spring chuckeld nervously, backing around the desk and lifting out a quill with her magic.

Prey hid a frown as he watched Leaflet Spring from around the corner of the desk. Why was she so skittish? She was a unicorn, what did she have to be afraid about? Leaflet Spring had started out quite collected and professional, but over the course of the conversation she'd grown steadily more apprehensive.

Not even a single mention of salt or smuggling had crossed the mare's thoughts since they'd began, so why was she slowly getting so worked up if she wasn't guilty? Gloom hadn't made any subtle threats or used any intimidation either. Was it because she was alone with three unknown Night Guards, alright, not even that. Two Guards and one runt.

'Or is she just that cowardly?' Prey wondered. He'd thought she was doing quite well up until now for not giving into all those vampony stories she'd heard. But now she was getting nervous, and Prey didn't like being around nervous unicorns.

There was the sound of someone else outside, and the door handle being opened and another filthy horn head bustled in. 

"Sorry I'm late Mrs. Spring, I had to..." He froze at seeing the Night Guard inside, and Leaflet sitting at her desk writing something out.

"It's fine." Leaflet quickly said.

"You are?" Gloom asked the pudgy unicorn.

"I'm Fruity. I work here." The stallion answered cautiously, eye's darting around. Prey ducked behind the closest desk before he could be spotted.

"I'm Sargent Gloom of the Night Guard. We are here on an investigation. Please wait outside." Gloom said, dismissing Fruity.

"It's fine Fruity." Leaflet repeated.

"I, er, I'll just be outside the door. In case, you know, you need anything or something." Fruity said, speaking exclusively to Leaflet as he slowly closed the door.

"Are you finished with that list?" Gloom asked, turning back to Leaflet once they were undisturbed again.

"More or less. That's pretty much everything I can remember." Leaflet said, offering the page.

Gloom took it and gave it a quick once over. "Prey." He called, and when Prey reappeared back around the side of the desk he passed it to the lamb without prelude. 

"Here. You'll remember it." Gloom said, already going back to Leaflet.

"Now, can you please give me a physical description of both Terry Golf, Mango Nut, and then give me a copy of the contact details for Terry Golf. You still have those." Gloom said, not phrasing it as a question.

"Yes, I can get his details for you in just a second." Leaflet quickly said. '-oh I hope Terry's not in trouble-'

"Thank you. Now, their descriptions please."

"Well, Terry is a unicorn, I think he's about thirty five, or fortyish? He's about my height, with a mane cut down the sides, and his cutie mark is a sort of upside down letter 'G' with a hook under the 'G'." Leaflet said. What gift from harmony that talent was supposed to represent, Prey couldn't even begin to guess.

"His coat and mane colour?" Gloom reminded Leaflet. 

"Oh right, of course. His fur is sort of a browny hazel? And his mane's this orange with bits of green in it."

Terry Golf's colouring sounded slightly less offensive than was the norm for ponies. Prey was reminded of the shelves of that aptly name candy store, Candy Canes n' Sweet Stuff, every time he saw a street full of ponies.

Gloom nodded, committing the description to memory, "And Mango Nut?"

Leaflet gave them a description of a green eyed Earth pony with a cream mane and a mango coloured coat. A cutie mark of a swan outlined on a lake completed the mental image. Being named Mango for being mango coloured by your parents if you were a pony was apparently perfectly reasonable.

Gloom's brow furrowed as he listened. The description stirred something in his memory, '-it sounds a bit like...-' 

'Like that Earth pony from the cellar.' Prey finished in his head as the Sargent's eyes slowly widened. Gloom's gaze darted to Crimson and the two of them shared a loaded look. Evidently, Crimson hadn't been so traumatised that he couldn't remember the murder victims remains either. 

'-well, at least we can narrow the search down for the victims families-', Gloom thought grimly.

"Officer? Is something wrong?" Leaflet asked.

Gloom stared just over Leaflet's shoulder rather than directly at her. '-little rat claws skittering-'

"Nothing," He said after a moment, "It's nothing that you need to worry about."

"Okay," Leaflet blinked uncertainly, "Was there anything else I can help you with officer?"

Gloom flicked an ear towards the bosses office, "When will your manager be in?" He asked.

"He's in Manehatton at the moment I'm afraid. He's not scheduled to be back until next week on his calendar. I'm sorry about that."

"Never mind. Is there anypony else here who could show us around the factory?" Gloom asked.

"What, the factory? You mean, our production factory?" Leaflet asked in surprise.

"Is there another one? We're talking about the factory outside Manehatton near the cotton plantations." Gloom said.

"Yes but, why would you want to go there?" Leaflet asked in bewilderment. 

'Yes, why would we want to go there?' Prey thought, equally puzzled.

"Night Guard business." Gloom answered. "Is there somepony else here who regularly goes to the factory and could act as a guide?"

"That's at least four hours away by train, and you'd have to catch a cart or walk to it once you got to Manehatton." Leaflet said, as if not sure that Gloom understood how far away from 'civilization' that was.

"Is there somepony who could take us there and show us around the factory?" Gloom repeated, voice flat.

Leaflet quickly remembered herself and who she was speaking to "Ah, no, I don't think so. Terry is the only pony who could really help you there. And since Yeast, the manager, is away..." She trailed off with an apologetic shrug.

Gloom nodded, "Alright. Then you're coming with us as the guide." He decided.

"Coming with-? Wait what?"


------


Leaflet Spring was not happy. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know that as she sat and fidgeted in the corner of the train compartment.

She hadn't really been given a choice though. Gloom was a Night Guard, his decision earlier had been an order, not a request. Leaflet Spring had understood the difference, which was why she hadn't refused the thestral Sargent. She had raised a lot of fuss however. 

It should've been fairly obvious that Gloom had no power to enforce her compliance. For starters, Leaflet wasn't a suspect, nor was she a Guard under his authority. She was a civilian, with her own job, and under no obligation to take them to the Luxury Linen factory.

However one look at Gloom's face had snapped her mouth shut and convinced her that pushing the Sargent today was a very bad idea. 

So Leaflet Spring had been forced to give a hasty explanation to Fruity waiting outside, (who'd also protested but been ignored), and taken to catch the next train to Manehatton.

Sitting in a train bound out of Canterlot, with two silent Night Guards and a weird lamb who she didn't know, and with only their word that they were actually Guards and weren't kidnapping her wasn't doing Leaflet any good. 

She comforted herself with the thought that, '-Fruity knows where I am and what's happening-'

'And what good would that do you if we were really going to murder you? You'd still be dead.' Prey thought. 

He was doubly as unhappy as Leaflet Spring about her been brought along. He was sitting in the completely opposite corner to the unicorn, eyes locked on Leaflet's horn for the first sign of magic. This was dangerous. Why had Gloom insisted she guide them? Didn't Gloom know better than to cage a tiger and then climb in with it?

Because of Gloom's stupidity, Prey'd had to take matters into his own hooves to guarantee his safety. 

Thus, he'd been forced to strain himself in preparing a number of runes for in case Leaflet suddenly became hostile. What a waste when they could've just left her behind instead. Now instead, he was more tired than ever.

He glared at the mare from behind his mask of boredom. 'If she tries anything, I'll trigger this array and blind us all.' 

The effects would only last for four, maybe five seconds at best, but that should be enough to break Leaflet's concentration on whatever spell she was casting and let Prey escape. He didn't need to be able to see to reach the door. He'd already planned the quickest way out in his head. He was also seated closest to said door, and not by chance.

'Idiot,' Prey thought at Gloom for the thirty-sixth time as the *clack-clack* of train tracks continues to pass outside, 'Why'd you have to bring a unicorn along?'


------


Three hours and fifty-five minutes passed in a heavy silence that only got heavier the further the train went. Gloom and Crimson kept staring off into nothing before catching themselves. Gloom hadn't informed Screech or Nighthawk they were leaving Canterlot, and for a minute Prey let the fantasy of taking the opportunity to escape captivate him. 

He estimated he would survive until midnight at most, whereupon Luna would activate the tracer bracelets and blow his legs off or something.

Still, prospects of escape (however impossible), were preferable to what Gloom and Crimson's minds were still fixated on.
Prey's hoof didn't lift off the runic array for the entirety of the journey. 


------


The ISND plus their add one exited onto the Manehatton station at midday, Gloom squinting badly in the sunlight. From there, they started the long trot towards the cotton factory. Gloom and Crimson could probably have flown there in fifteen minutes, but not with Prey and Leaflet Spring in tow.

Gloom glanced again at Prey, and then back at Leaflet behind them, again wishing loudly, but silently, that they either had some way to leave Prey behind, and/or Leaflet knew how to teleport. Then they could get there so much faster. The sun was giving Gloom a pounding headache to go with the ache in his gut.

Preoccupied, Gloom didn't stop to consider why Prey might be hurrying along in front of them, instead of trailing in the rear like usual. Neither did Gloom draw any significance from Prey keeping both Guards between himself and the complaining unicorn at all times.

'-are all unicorns this prissy?-', Gloom thought in frustration as Leaflet Spring trudged along behind them, this brief trot having already winded her. '-this is barely anything, even Prey does better than her on those little legs-' 

But even as they were overtaken by one cart after another, heading towards the cotton fields to pick up their load, Gloom didn't say anything.


---


When they finally got in sight of the cotton factory, all that was going through Leaflet Spring's thoughts was finding somewhere clean to sit down, and something to drink.

'-I shouldn't even be here. Cruel, ungrateful Night Guards. This was most certainly not in my job description-' 

Prey was thankful that, so far at least, Leaflet's fear of Gloom as a thestral had kept her quiet and compliant. Crimson was hardly a normal pegasus either, and his emotionless expression had helped with that too. 

'-what kind of brainwashing indoctrination do they do to these ponies in the Night Guard?-', Leaflet Spring wondered. Evidently the matching tufted ears and eye colour weren't enough to clue Leaflet in on Crimson's shared heritage.

Nevertheless, Leaflet's current docile appearances not withstanding, being so out in the open with a unicorn made Prey's wool itch. Still, she would have to go through Gloom and Crimson first to get to him. They would slow Leaflet down enough for him to run. Since Prey knew Leaflet Spring didn't know how to teleport, as long as he could get out of her casting range, he could escape.

To Prey, all this constant vigilance and paranoia was completely necessary. 


---


The cotton factory came slowly into view as they crest a rise in the road, and spied the start of the cotton field farms. 

Low, squat tree's growing cloud fluff sat in neat rows, the fields split into patchworks of cotton plants in different stages of readiness. The orchards went on for miles and miles. Was orchard even the right word for non-fruit bearing trees?

The white speckled expanse was bigger than Prey had imagined. He could turn his head all the way to the right, or to the left, and he would still be seeing cotton trees.

'Does all this belong to one land owner? Or is it split into lots of different farming families?' Prey wondered. In the fields, the odd bright splotches of colourful pony fur stood out, moving amongst the cotton and working the trees. However, as Prey looked closer, he could finally see that most of the work force were actually of the more mundane colouring. Donkeys, mules, a few cows, and even some sheep, the latter's wool blending in like camouflage against the cotton.

'I wonder how much money the factory owners make?' Prey thought, looking at these workers. There were three different large yard areas offset in the patchwork fields, made up of barns and other buildings he'd never seen before.

If all this was all owned by one, (or even multiple land owners), Prey imagined the answer to that question was; 'Lots.' Followed by, 'Lots more'. If they held the monopoly, they could set the cotton at whatever prices they wanted. This was precisely what Wheat Plow had been campaigning against. Too bad for him and his supporters he was now languishing in Dreverton.

Or was on his way to Dreverton. He'd only been sentenced two nights ago. It felt longer. Celestia's announcement that she wanted a free and balanced election had been literally overshadowed by the dragon. And the Night Guards' success. That was only yesterday too.

"Which factory is the Luxury Linen one?" Gloom asked Leaflet, addressing her for the first time since they'd left the train station.

Leaflet Spring took the moment to catch her breath and surreptitiously work at the stitch in her side, "It's, I think it's that one." She said, pointing a hoof towards the closest cluster of buildings.

"You think?" 

"Well, *huff* I've never actually been out to the factory before." Leaflet said, the hint of reproach in her voice all the protest she was brave enough to voice. 

'As long as that's all she voices, and not some spell.' Prey thought with apprehension.

Gloom grunted at Leaflet's answer, "Then let's go. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can start the return journey." 

Leaflet thought some very uncivilised things at the Sargent's back.


---


The Luxury Linen cotton factory wasn't one building. Rather, it was a series of four different buildings, each processing a different stage of the harvested cotton.

And it was noisy. Really noisy. 

Busy Earth ponies shouting to each other made up the majority of the work force. It looked like another batch of cotton pods had just come in.

And the four of them just walked right in with no one challenging them. They got all the way to the supervisor's office door, a small building little bigger than a shed tacked onto the side of one of the barns, before someone finally asked who they were.

"What?" The supervisor snarled, yanking the door open. The Earth ponies chocolate brown fur paled when he saw the ISND plus one miserable Leaflet Spring waiting for him.

"Err...what?" He tried again.

Gloom didn't waste any time, "I am Sargent Gloom of the Night Guard. We will be surveying your factory and interviewing some of your workers."

"Do you... have a warrant?" The supervisor asked. He knew there was, '-something about guards having to have a warrant-', Although it didn't look like he would know what a warrant looked like even if presented with one.

"I don't need a warrant." Gloom informed him.

"But..." The Earth pony wilted under those slit thestral eyes. 

"That's alright then, feel free to go ahead." He quickly said, trying to offer a smile. It went unreturned.

"I want accurate reports on all the crates you've sent to the Luxury Linen in Canterlot, and any documents you have to verify your deliveries."

"What? Ah, deliveries! Okay, I can do that right away for you officer." The supervisor had a bit of a thick accent, so he pronounced officer 'off-ah-sah'.

"Good. What's your name?" Gloom asked.

Prey could see for a few seconds the stallion was debating whether or not to give it, before he realised he didn't know what was going on and lying was not going to help him or his workers, some of which had stopped to watch. "Satchel Charge, I used to work in the mines. And as for all of you, get back to work!" He yelled, shouting over to the spectators.

The workers dispersed and went back to work cheerfully enough. That was a minor insight into the supervisor before them. It seemed Satchel Charge was generally on amicable terms with his work force, so he was likely either a fair boss, or good at hiding his faults.

"I want to see those reports on our return. While you're getting those, we will be reviewing the factory. Where do you store finished goods, and where do you box them up to send out?" Gloom asked.

"Err, in that shed, and in the end of building 4. In that order." Satchel Charge pointed. Prey listened to his mind galloping through possible reasons why the Night Guard were here. 

'-maybe those riots? Or did one of my boys get in with the wrong crowd? I warned them all to keep clean-', Satchel thought in disappointment.

"We will go and look now. Please retrieve those documents and wait for us to get back." Gloom reminded him.

"Won't you need somepony to show you around?" Satchel Charge asked uncertainly.

"There's no need," Gloom indicated with his wing, left wing claw pointing at Leaflet, "This is Leaflet Spring. She's the secretary of the company you work for in Canterlot. She'll be perfectly capable of showing us around." 

"Me? But I've never been here before."

"You still know all about the cotton production process and how the goods are made, don't you?" Gloom challenged.

"Well, yes, it's part of the business, but only in theory! I still haven't seen any of this in pony before." Leaflet protested.

"Good. That means you won't purposefully try and skip any bits on the tour. Lead on."


---


"Sir, is this why you told Leaflet Spring to come with us?" Crimson asked, voice low enough to barely carry over the noise of twenty different mares and stallions pulling cotton through huge comb contraptions.

Leaflet was leading the way in front of of them, wavering back and forth a bit, unsure of which direction to go in as the eyes of lots of curious workers fixed on them.

"Partly Crimson. I am not too sure why, but I felt bringing her along would lead us somewhere. Or rather, I felt it was not a wrong choice to make." Gloom said, glancing back over his shoulder to his own flank, but the mark there was of course hidden under his armour.

"So there was a method to your madness. Because destiny said so." Prey muttered, just loud enough to be heard too. He didn't like it in here. The fine filaments of cotton plant in the air kept tickling his nose, so thin as to be invisible, and made him want to sneeze. And people kept looking at him. Prey didn't like it when there was no cover to hide behind.

"Don't talk to me about madness." Gloom snapped, completely not in the mood.

"No, don't you talk to me about madness." Prey muttered back, but this time made sure it went unheard. He'd wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. But letting a random mare they'd pulled off the streets blunder about leading them just because Gloom's special talent was giving him cryptic hints was not at all reassuring.

"The guide isn't important, I just want us to get a feel for this place. See if anything stands out or seems suspicious to you two." Gloom ordered.

"Yes sir."

A pause. "Yes, sir."


---


More raised eyebrows, and more furtive looks from workers came and went as their strange little procession continued on from building to building.

Inside this particular building, they saw six huge weaving looms, the racks reaching almost all the way to the ceiling, staffed by, a bit surprisingly, pegasi. The winged ponies flew up and down the threads, with big toothed combs looped over their hooves, making sure the cotton ran evenly.

An Earth pony trotted along on some tread wheel contraption, the mechanism running the great spools of cotton that fed the looms. Prey saw how everyone here knew exactly what they were doing, keeping everything running as efficiently and speedily as possible. Within the time it took the four of them to walk from one end of the building to the other, three mistakes in the weave had been both spotted, noted, and then rectified. 

'And they seem happy with their job.' Prey thought, observing the factory workers.

How could they be happy doing this day after day? Prey couldn't imagine working the looms day in, day out. Actually he could, but he couldn't imagine being happy about it. But he sensed no dissatisfaction in the workers minds within his perception range. Was the pay that good? Or was it comradeship, or pride they took in their work? The joy of fulfilling their special talents calling, perhaps?

Or perhaps it just beat the farm work. Easier, less hours, and better pay probably.

"Does this factory produce items exclusively for Luxury Linen?" Gloom asked Leaflet, speaking loudly to be heard over the shuttles clacking back and forth.

"No, we are one of two companies who use this factory. These buildings are actually owned by the cotton field land owners. Luxury Linen hires this place on a week-on, week-off basis, rotating with the other company, Cotton Creations Co." Leaflet said, also raising her voice.

'What is it with Equestrians and their need to alliterate business names?' Prey thought. Whatever the case, Leaflet's answer just served to add more information and names with which to further confuse matters.

They came to the last building, the one that Satchel Charge had pointed out that housed finished products. Entering in through the double doors, the noise from outside quickly dropped behind them.

In the relative peace, they looked about. This building seemed to be dedicated to putting the finishing touches to the cotton products, then folding it up and packing it away. All the processes in here was done by hoof, cutting down on the noise, which dropped even further into hushed whispers when the ISND walked in.

Leaflet Spring was practically radiating frustration right now, being tired, hot and bothered. 

'-I could have just done a nice shift and gone home, but noooo-', She thought. 

"Here. We're in the last building like you wanted." She said huffily.

The ISND ignored Leaflet's shortness and went over to examine the area for themselves. Their attention was immediately drawn to the familiar stacks of flat, open topped wooden crates, although this time the crates still held their contents. Gloom walked up to the closest and lifted out a large, neatly folded, dark purple towel. It looked wonderfully thick and soft, just like a pony luxury item.

"I think this was definitely where the crates came from." Crimson said, looking in a different crate of his own. It was similarly filled, but with a variety of different colours and towel sizes this time.

"There were none of these crates left in Warehouse 7B. Why was that? If they can produce this many in a week, surely the Canterlot store couldn't have used up all their stock in only two weeks. Demand for towels can't be that high." Prey said, waving a hoof to indicate the piles of crates.

"Is that an important factor? It sounds to me like it's probably nothing. Or are you getting a feeling?" Gloom asked, thinking back to how Prey had, '-been right about the Crop Sharer's-'

"Not a feeling. I just thought it strange." Prey shrugged, "Also, I don't think there will be anything to find here."

Gloom checked to make sure it was just the three of them in ear shot, although someone could have been listening in magically and they wouldn't have known. "What makes you say that?"

"It'll be the same here as it was back at Warehouse 7B and Luxury Linen. Everything to do with the salt trade will have already been removed. The drug dealers have closed down this avenue of their operation and removed as much evidence as possible. It was sheer dumb luck that disturbance report came in and we found the cellar. But we're too late to catch anyone here." Prey said.

Gloom accepted Prey's explanation with a dower nod, not even correcting him on 'anyone'. "I feared as much, but I have a feeling there is still something we can find here." 

"Sir, perhaps we should go back and look at those records you ordered the supervisor to assemble?" Crimson suggested.

"We'd probably be better served by finding this Terry Golf. It's ninety-five percent certain he's guilty." Prey said. Although since Prey suspected the stallion was one of the four bodies they'd found, the chances of that were looking bleak.

"Terry Golf can't have been the only pony in on the salt trade working here. He just came to pick up the crates. But somepony else here..." Gloom's eyes shifted suspiciously to the workers on the other side of the room, "...Was hiding the salt in amongst the towels."

"Obviously. And what's the bet that when we ask, there's a worker who's has stopped turning up for work or quit in the last two weeks?" Prey said, almost pulling up a sarcastic smile by instinct. 

He caught himself and straightened his lips out just in time. Gloom and Crimson didn't trust his smiles anymore. Later, when this was all over, Prey would have to work on fooling them into believing his mask was real again. He absently tugged at the ribbon behind his ear, 'I'll just be a little runt lamb again. And I'll live long enough to laugh over your graves.

"Let's go and find out," Gloom said, then raised his voice, "Mrs. Leaflet Spring, a question if you would." 

Leaflet reluctantly stopped resting against the door post and came over. 

"Yes, officer?" She asked. '-what now?-'

"The workers here, are they just Luxury Linen's? Or do they work here full time for Comfort Cotton too?" Gloom asked her.

"No, they're employed here by the factory, not directly by us."

"Good, that makes things easier." Gloom then raised his voice again, calling over to the closest workers, "You, yes you. No, you. Yes, the stallion pointing at himself. Please come over here and answer a question."

A very reluctant Earth pony came over, dragging their hooves. 

"Aye?" He asked when he was close enough, eyes darting back to his work mates. '-harmony does not like me today. Them bat poniess are just like grandpappy said, only half-ponies-'

Gloom and Crimson were of course deaf to the stallion's more private racism, but it didn't take a genius to see the pony's reticence.

Gloom pretended he hadn't seen it, "Has anypony recently stopped working in this part of the factory? Or perhaps been off sick the last few days?" 

"Aye, that's right on the money actually it is. How'd you know?" The stallion responded, eyebrows going up.

Gloom tried to put a polite smile on his face (no teeth), and also tried not to let the stress leak through, "Please just answer the question. Who is absent?"

And catching sight of Gloom's attempt, Prey now knew exactly why Leaflet Spring and everyone else they'd encountered today ended up feeling so uneasy around them, even if they started out brave. 

Simply put, Gloom did not have the experience faking a smile that Prey did. When Gloom tried, you could almost see the weight of the cellar resting behind his eyes. Looking at Gloom, these people didn't know what exactly it was they were seeing, but they knew something bad had happened recently. And ponies being ponies, tragedy, death and harsh reality scared them and made them want to look away. 

'You need to learn to craft your mask better Gloom. Honey catches more flies than vinegar.' Prey thought as he watched the worker's ear go back a notch.

"Why'd you be wanting to know?" The worker asked, cautious now.

"The Night Guard are looking into another case and it might be related. Now please answer the question; who is it that's absent?" Gloom asked again, brushing aside the stallion's own inquiry without giving a straight answer.

"Aye, well,..." The earth pony considered, perhaps wondering if he was throwing a friend under the cart.

"...Spool, he ain't been in work since last Monday." The worker admitted.

"And Spool's job, what was it?" Gloom asked.

The worker glanced around, "Same as the rest of us. He worked in here, cutting, packing and stacking." He answered.

"Was he responsible for checking these crates once they were ready to go?" Gloom asked, pointing behind them to the pile.

"Aye, that he was. Have ya' already spoke to him?"

"No. Something we're hoping to rectify in the near future." Gloom said darkly. He looked over to Crimson and Prey, "Anything you two want to ask?"

"Yes. Who was Spool?" Prey asked.

The Earth pony misunderstood the question. He thought Prey hadn't been paying attention and had missed what'd already been said. Prey was only a lamb after all. 

"Spool is the pony who works here, an' now he's the one that's had to leave off sick." The stallion said, thinking it very weird a lamb was allowed in here in the first place.

"No, what I was asking is who was he? Where does he live, what race, cutie mark, colouration, age, history."  Prey's friendly smile didn't fade, helping offset the strangeness of his question with the childish innocence with which he asked it.

The Earth pony started to try and find the answers for Prey before even consciously deciding to do so, disarmed by the lambs earnestness. "Aye, Spool's a great stallion, he's 'bout my own age, ya' know? Used ta' work down by Vanhoover, with his brothers he told me. He's about my height too actually, but he's more a navy colour, ya' know? Spool's also an Earth pony, just like yours truly."

"And his cutie mark?" Prey asked, eyes brightening with fake interest.

"If'n I remember correctly, a half sun an' a cotton flower. He always said it meant he could find a way to make something out of anything." The worker said. 

'-she's a polite little fella'. Showing an appreciation for the special talents of us ponies an' all-'

Since Spool wasn't a unicorn, Prey could've cared less about what he claimed his cutie mark meant. All Prey wanted was defining characteristics with which to identify Spool. He looked sideways at Gloom and Crimson, making sure they'd also gotten the description.

"Alight, thank you for your help. We can take it from here." Gloom told the worker.

The Earth pony was no doubt a bit surprised by Gloom's sudden dismissal, but it wasn't likely he'd going to complain about being allowed to get away from the Night Guard sooner. 

And indeed he didn't, returning back to his work and colleagues without a fuss.

Gloom unseeingly watched the stallion go, thinking, '-so this Spool is the pony who's been hiding the salt in the crates. Probably. Still doesn't explain where he was getting it in from-'

Prey's thoughts more or less matched Gloom's deduction. His second, more secretive job here at the cotton factory complete, Spool had left and gone into hiding. If Crimson had managed to come to the same conclusion as both of them, well, he being his normal blank self and not sharing.

"I think it's time to find out what the good supervisor has dug up for us." Gloom announced.


---


Gloom and Crimson stood, silently reviewing the time sheets and profiles Satchel Charge had given them. Then once they were done, they hoofed them down to Prey for him to also read. Satchel Charge stood at his small desk in the cramped office, nervously fidgeting. 

It was no longer just Gloom and Prey who could draw meaningful insights from provided paperwork. After an entire week working non-stop preparing for Wheat Plow's trial, Crimson had improved his understanding of its twisted mysteries too.

And all three of the ISND were noticing the same thing. 

"So let me double check, this is the attendance roll for everypony, is it?" Gloom asked Satchel Charge.

Satchel hesitated for half a second, "More or less. At least, I'm pretty sure it is."

Gloom took the time sheets back and looked them over again, "Strange. This is for the last month, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you typically remove somepony's name when they're off sick?"

"Er, no."

"Then why do I not see anypony by the name of 'Spool' on here?" Gloom asked.

Satchel faltered, "I, I can explain that."

Gloom let the papers drop back onto the desk with a *slap* sound, "Please do."

"Spool, he, ah, he no longer works here anymore." Satchel said, scuffing a hoof.

"He was only supposed to be off sick, and now you tell me he's left? And what has that to do with falsifying your records? Were you trying to hide something?" Gloom asked coolly.

"No it ain't like that! I wasn't trying to hide nothing, I was just doing Spool a last favour is all."

Gloom and Crimson's silent stare of accusation made Satchel hurriedly go on, "Well, see it's like this... Spool didn't want it to be on his employment record. He came an' told me he was really leaving, not sick, and asked me if'n I could remove him off the sheets for the last month or so. He didn't want it to look like he was just job hopping to his new boss. An' I figured he was a good enough worker that we could give him an extra week's sick pay before his layoff. It was only fair."

"And you saw nothing wrong with this, because...?" Gloom raised an eyebrow.

"Spool never made any trouble. It was only fair." Satchel asserted again. As somebody in authority around here, he wasn't used to being questioned, but now he was, and by the Night Guard too. It made Satchel Charge mighty uncomfortable. 

"These Warehouse delivery quantities don't match." An offended mare's voice sounded out. 

'-what? Who?-', Gloom thought in surprise looking around. 

It was, of course, Leaflet Spring. Who else could it be? But what was her problem?

Leaflet Spring indignantly held up a sheaf of papers, gripped in her aura a s they all turned. 

"Your records are wrong, this isn't what we've ordered." She announced, ignoring Gloom and speaking to or rather at Satchel Charge.

The out of the blue challenge unbalanced Satchel for a moment, as he tried to shift gears from being interrogated by Gloom to being interrogated by Leaflet. "What do you mean? Those are the records."

"No they're not, these are wrong. I do the paperwork myself, I know these are wrong."

"What'cha mean they're wrong? Those are accurate figures."

"I file the checklist Terry submits myself. I know for a fact we have more crates than this in our warehouse." Leaflet disagreed, pointing at a figure on the sheet.

"Give me that, let me see." Satchel said, swiping the pages out of Leaflet's magic, making Prey flinch in anticipation of an explosion that never came.

"No, these be the right figures. Whatever we send to you, we double check an' mark down here. This is what we sent you last week, see for yourself." Satchel said, showing her an entry on the sheet while the rest of the ISND looking on in bemusement. It was abundantly apparent that Leaflet had been getting riled up all day, and now that she found something to criticise, all her frustration was coming out. 

If she couldn't direct it at the Night Guard, she could damned well direct it at some other unfortunate instead.

"It is certainly not right. I check our stock levels every day as part of my job." Leaflet said with her nose in the air, "I can quote the stock figures in our warehouse for the last week by heart. We have at least thirty crates. You delivered us twenty-six the week before, not twenty-seven." 

"Well ya' wrong somewhere. We sent twenty-seven." Satchel protested. '-this mare isn't making any sense-'

"There were none of their crates in Warehouse 7B, right?" Gloom asked quietly to Prey.

"No, there weren't."

Gloom nodded slowly, "I thought so. But both of them seem to think otherwise." He said, indicating Satchel and Leaflet as they continued to each try and get the other person to realise their mistake.

"The one crate missing in each shipment held the hidden salt. That crate was then removed down into the secret cellar. One  crate from each delivery. That would make up the difference in their numbers sir." Crimson said in realisation.

"Yes it would." Gloom agreed, the three of them still watching but mainly ignoring the ongoing argument.

"Then that proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt, this Terry Golf pony really was a fraud, using his position to hide the removal of the crate of salt from each shipment. But once again, this doesn't actually help us unless we can catch him." Prey pointed out.

"One more pony to add to the list of criminals for the Night Guard to hunt down." Gloom muttered, wing muscles tightening under his fur. Prey raised an eye side long at Gloom. That sounded far darker an outcome than what the Sargent had really meant. Unlike Prey's own list. Best to move the conversation on.

"We're wasting time here. We could be trying to hunt down Terry or Spool. We know they're both guilty, and catching either one would provide answers to a lot of questions." Prey reminded Gloom. The Sargent had really been off his game and slow on the uptake today. Ever since the cellar, actually. 

'Gee, I wonder why?'

"You're right, we don't have time for this." Gloom said. He then raised his voice; 

"Both of you, shut up."

Both unicorn and Earth pony flinched, and immediately quietened on being reminded of the Night Guards presence. 

Gloom looked at Leaflet Spring, "You're wrong. You have no crates in your warehouse. We know, we've checked. Thank you for your help, I knew I brought you along for a reason. But there is nothing further for you to do here." 

Then to Satchel Charge, "Spool was lying to you. I want all and any information you have on him. Now."

It was not a request.


---


Satchel Charge was not a happy stallion by the time they left to begin the long walk back to the Manehatton train station. The reason he was unhappy was because Gloom was unhappy. Crimson too. Probably. It was hard to be one hundred percent sure about anything Crimson might be feeling, but the pegasus was probably unhappy.

Prey personally followed the philosophy of always expect the worst, and then expect it to be worse than that. That way you're never be disappointed. And by that logic, things could certainly have gone worse.

However, they could also have gone better, which was the reason for Gloom's frustration.

Satchel Charge hadn't been able to provide anything useful. He didn't have any address, contact details, or next of kin to find Spool. Their suspect had been a worker who talked a lot but actually said very little. None of the work force knew where he lived either. Spool had merely collected his pay at the end of each week and disappeared until the following Monday. It was likely he'd already skipped town.

Another dead end. All they could do was add his name and description to the wanted list.

'It's essentially worthless information. Perhaps somewhere a month or two down the line, someone will recognise him hiding out in some little village. But that's not going to be soon enough to satisfy Luna.' Prey thought.

And as for Leaflet Spring? She was definitely unhappy.

The displaced secretary trailed at the back of their little procession, dragging her hooves. Prey could hear her grumbling under her breath every step of the way. 

"...Hungry, sore, tired, dirty, smelly, hot, Night Guard, ungrateful, bat pony, thirsty..." 

Bringing her along had served a purpose in the end, but Gloom would've really liked to have left her behind at the factory regardless, '-she walks so slow, but we're the one's who brought her-'. 

'No, you're the one who brought her.' 

Prey thought they should just leave her behind anyway. If someone was no longer useful, abandon them. Leaflet was hardly going to starve or die due to monster attack out here in the sunny open, less than an hour's trot from Manehatton. Worse luck. 

'Filthy unicorn.'

"What's the likelihood that the details Leaflet Spring provided on that Terry Golf suspect turns up nothing?" Gloom asked, eye's half closed and head lowered under the sun.

"Very high." Prey said shortly. What more was there to say?

"Where does that leave us to go next?" Gloom asked dully. '-is there a single clue out there that doesn't just lead to a dead end?-' He wondered.

Neither of them answered Gloom's question. Prey was considering if he would have to fall back on getting Lemon Pink to track down and expose that drug dealer her and him had spotted. He didn't want to put his tool at risk, but he shuddered to think what would happen if Luna was not kept pleased. Last night's near invasion of his mind was still very fresh and very prevalent in Prey's memory. 

'Filthy alicorn.'


---


Manehatton slowly crawled closer as they plodded along the road, the grassy verge swaying ever so slightly in the sporadic breeze. Unless Leaflet decided to finally pick up the pace, it would likely take them another twenty minutes to get to the city's gate. Prey looked at the tall buildings slowly growing larger, with every so often a pegasus flying in or out. 

He had an idea.

Prey stopped to brush his ear back, so he could look back from the corner of his eye at the unicorn mare bringing up the rear.. 

"Say," He began conversationally, "What do you think the salt dealers would do if they suspected Leaflet Spring back there of being a Night Guard collaborator?"

Gloom blinked, returning from his mindless plodding and wishing he were flying instead. 

"Well obviously they won't be happy about anypony working against them, but she's nopony to them. I don't think they would really care, because there's so little damage she could do." Gloom shrugged. "Actually, they probably don't even know Leaflet Spring exists as a pony." 

"But what if they had some reason to notice her? It doesn't even have to be her, but for the argument's sake, let's say when we get back to Canterlot, there's somebody-"

"-Somepony."

"-watching the Luxury Linen entrance. They see us shaking hooves with Leaflet, congratulating her, and immediately start a city wide search for ponies by the name of 'Spool' or 'Terry'. Then what happens if we also leave a couple of Night Guards obviously guarding her house tonight?" Prey asked.

Gloom thought for a bit. "I don't know where you're going with this, because it doesn't reflect reality and its not going to happen. But if it did, the salt dealers would probably try and find out who Leaflet Spring is." 

"They won't find anything. They will discover she really knows nothing and then ignore her." Crimson joined in.

"But what if they did find something? Nothing factual or certain, but something to worry them. Say, like her family having a history of being closely affiliated with the Guard, with Guard sympathies, having given tip offs to the Guard before, and has commendations for civic duty?" 

"She doesn't have that background. And how would they look into some random pony's background like Leaflet's anyway?" Gloom pointed out. 

"Just bribe the City Records Department to gain access. Money talks." Prey shrugged.

"I'd like-," Gloom stressed, "-To believe that somepony can't just walk in and bribe our cities officials."

"You'd like to. But do you?" Prey asked.

Gloom let out a sigh that sounded like it contained the weight of the world, "It would love to say yes. But after all this? No, not really."

"Well, it's also possible they could just ask nicely and the City Registrar just looks Leaflet Spring up for them. I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to fake being a concerned relative or something." Prey said, placating Gloom a bit. Prey didn't do 'nice', but with the Sargent's dour mood, it would be best for his chances of success if he did.

"Whether they will or won't is not a question, because this is all just hypothetical. Leaflet doesn't have that background, and we aren't going to use her as bait even if we could." Gloom told Prey.

"Why not?" Prey demanded.

"First, because she's a civilian, and shouldn't have really been dragged into any of this at all, which is my fault. Second, because she doesn't have that background. But most importantly, because she's a civilian." Gloom repeated.

"What if she were never in any danger?"

"You can't guarantee that, not after everything we've seen. And besides which, she's still a civilian. She would never agree to act as bait and we have no right to force her." Gloom said, the idea growing more unpleasant the more Prey pushed it.

"Nor does it address the issue of her still having no such record." Crimson added, looking back at the mare in question.

"As we've already agreed, bribing the City Records Department is easily done, so we could do the same. Or just order the records altered by Night Guard authority. Temporarily of course." Prey hastened to add.

"So that's your plan? Have Leaflet Spring act as blind bait, dangle her in front of the salt dealers, and try and catch whoever they send to kidnap her?" Gloom asked with strong disapproval.

"What? No, of course not. Nothing so crude as that." Prey sniffed, "Catch whoever they send to the records department."


---


In those twenty further minutes it took the ISND to get back to the Manehatton train station, a quiet conversation was held outside of Leaflet's hearing. Not that the unicorn would've tried to listen into their conversation even if she'd known they were purposefully excluding her.

Because as Prey got to listen to on the train ride back, Leaflet Spring wanted; '-nothing more to do with these ungrateful bat winged deviants ever ever ever again-'

She didn't quite flare up at Gloom as they travelled, but that was only because she was still too weirded out by the thestral to look him in the eye. So instead she proceeded to give the seat Gloom was sitting on a death glare that could've curdled cheese the whole way back. All three hours and fifty minutes of the trip.

Gloom pretended not to notice the glare, Crimson didn't give any indication even if he did, and Prey made himself as small and unassuming in his corner as possible, hoof on the runic flash array, (Which he'd had to make again), and ready to run.

Jumping off a moving train would no doubt hurt, but it would be a lot less painful than if a furious, rampaging unicorn went crazy and decided to enact bodily revenge against the Night Guards who'd so inconvenienced her day.

Prey glanced at Gloom and Crimson without moving his head. Perhaps they'd react and stop Leaflet in time if it came to that? Probably not. Gloom was distracted and hollow eyed, trying not to remember the cellar, and Crimson was likely no better behind those mental walls of his. 

'Besides, they'd hesitate before going for the kill.' Prey thought, 'Alright. Jumping off the train and breaking my legs it is then.'

It was a long, uncomfortable, three hours fifty minutes for all parties involved.


---


The train hadn't been stationary in Canterlot station for more than five seconds before Crimson was out the door and flapping into the air. Just as agreed. 

When a disgruntled Leaflet asked Gloom where the pegasus had gone, he replied, "To report back to our Lieutenant." There was no obligation to answer a civilian, but Gloom told her the truth anyway.

Well, part of the truth. Crimson was also under instructions to convey their plan to Screech and get his assistance in setting things up. Time was of the essence.

Prey jealously wished he had wings and could've gone in Crimson's place. The longer he spent in Leaflet's company, the more he disliked the unicorn. 'Stupid horn heads.'

"We will escort you back to Luxury Linen, Mrs. Leaflet Spring." Gloom announced.

"Hmph." Leaflet snorted, but followed when Gloom lead the way through Canterlot's streets. 

'-can't get back soon enough. I deserve an extra long spa visit after this trip-', Leaflet thought, keen to part company with the ISND as soon as possible.

So she was greatly surprised, both verbally and non-verbally, when she found a squad of four Night Guards waiting for them outside Luxury Linen.

"Mrs. Leaflet Spring?" The Corporal asked, stepping forwards and offering her hoof before Leaflet could change from surprised to uneasy.

"Err, yes?" Leaflet replied, awkwardly taking the hoof on reflex.

Corporal Humming, a rather aggressive looking thestral mare, didn't bump hooves as Leaflet expected, but instead locked ankles and gave a firm shake. "On behalf of the Night Guard and Captain Nighthawk, we'd like to thank you for once again stepping forwards and helping the Guard, Mrs. Leaflet Spring."

"Huh? But I didn't-This Sargent just took me-"

"Your help was greatly appreciated and I'm sure that it won't be long before this investigation is all put to rest. It was very impressive, you noticing what you did." Humming continued on loudly, completely unperturbed as she continued to firmly shake Leaflet's leg.

"But that-Ow, please stop- But that-"

"Please don't worry about it either. You've done your part, now we'll do ours. You'll be perfectly safe I guarantee." Humming continued on.

Gloom hissed to Humming, "Corporal, out in the open like this isn't the best place." 

"You're too cautious Sargent, it's only proper that we show our gratitude to Mrs. Leaflet Spring." Humming returned.

Leaflet finally managed to get her leg back, wincing and looking flustered, "I- What's going on?"

"No need to worry, we're dealing with it. These three Night Guards will escort you safely back to your house once you're ready to leave. Thank you once again Mrs. Leaflet Spring and may night watch over you." Humming said, already walking away with Gloom and Prey in tow up he street.

"Hey, wait!" Leaflet called out behind them, but it went unheeded as the three Night Guards politely, but firmly, started chivying her along. 

"Come along Mrs. Spring. Let me get your bag for you."


---


Humming lead Prey and Gloom around a corner, then ducked into a side street and behind the outcrop of cart shed. Crimson was already waiting there for them, and immediately saluted to Gloom, "Sir."

Gloom waved him down, "Not now." He turned to Humming, who was peeking back around the shed to make sure they were unobserved: 

"Do you think that worked?"

"Luna willing, it did." Humming said.

"That was some of the worst acting in the history of acting back there, sir." Prey muttered.

Gloom's tail gave a flick, but he didn't acknowledge Prey's assessment of the little performance the Night Guard had put on back there for anyone who might've been watching. 

Corporal Humming turned away from the corner with a nod to herself, satisfied they weren't being observed. 'Which is great and all, unless, I don't know, anyone's looking out of their second floor windows.' Prey thought derisively at Humming's efforts.

"My squad will be outside of that mare's house all night," Humming said confidently, "If anypony comes near, we'll know it." 

"With a squad of Night Guards lurking outside her window, I doubt anypony will come, but that's part of the plan Humming."

"Don't worry Sargent, we know our role. But perhaps we'll get lucky and some dumb thug will get stupid and try anyway."

"Is everything else in place Corporal?" Gloom double checked.

"Not quite, Lieutenant Screech had some difficulty getting a unicorn who could conjure a tracer at such short notice." Humming said.

Gloom was about to tell her that it wasn't actually him who'd come up with the plan, he'd only contributed, when Humming pulled out a small metal vial from beneath her chest plate. "Here's the marker." She said simply, balancing it on her hoof.

Gloom frowned, confused. "But didn't you say the Lieutenant couldn't get a unicorn to conjure a tracer?" 

"Yes, but apparently they can finish making that bit later. Or something. But the unicorn said you can still apply the marker to anything and the tracer can find it if it's within a mile." Humming said. Her thoughts went to the rather pompous unicorn, showing Prey she hadn't understood the long winded explanation the stallion had given at all.

"What's this marker agent made of? Ma'am." Prey enquired as Gloom took the vial.

"I'm afraid I don't know, the guy didn't say." Humming said, wings moving in a shrug. As a Night Guard, she knew a bit more about Prey's position in the ISND and so didn't treat him like a complete child.

Gloom paused, looking from the vial to Prey, "Does it matter what it's made of?"

"No idea sir. I don't know much about magic either." Prey lied. 

'Must be some kind of magic infused solution. A highly reactive magical component with a traceable signature ground down and infused inside. But in that case, I doubt its signature will last longer than maybe forty eight hours. Especially not when surrounded by so much background magic in Canterlot.'

"Was there a time limit for how long they said this marker would last?" Prey asked.

"I'm pretty sure he said there was no worry of that happening." Humming replied.

Prey hid a frown and backed out of the conversation. That didn't match up with what he'd deduced. Why had the unicorn lied, and was it important? Was this stallion purposefully trying to lead them to fail, or was he just being boastful? Or perhaps he was just nowhere near as competent as he'd acted to Humming and didn't know.

No, probably nothing intentionally sinister Prey decided after a moment's consideration. Just another Canterlot unicorn over confident in his own racial superiority.

Prey returned to the conversation as Gloom finished tucking the vial with its marker agent away, "Thank you Corporal. We'll take our leave now for the Records Hall now. Has Lieutenant Screech managed to find anything on those two names Crimson gave you?"

"It's too soon to know for sure, but we haven't turned up anything yet Sargent." Humming answered. She unfurled her wings and began to give them a few warm up beats, Prey moving to shield his eye's a fraction of a second before she did so. 

"I must rejoin my squad. Night watch over you and Luna guide your flight." She called as she took off into the evening sky.

Gloom watched her go, then looked back down to Prey, "Are you sure it won't matter?" He asked.

"Which bit are you referring to? I can't read your mind, sir." Prey said smiling, before remembering that Gloom now didn't trust him when he smiled and quickly wiping it off his face.

"Sure. I meant about the pony who comes to check Leaflet's records after us. Won't it matter if they know some Night Guards were already in there checking out her record? They might guess they've been faked." Gloom asked.

"It doesn't matter even if they know it's fake. They'll still want to see the new record, so they'll know what they think we want them to know. It's mind games, but it won't matter either way so long as they get some of that marker agent on their hooves." Prey explained.

"I think I understand," Crimson said, "The pony who comes to check, they are just a scout. Not the mastermind. So they will not think to not touch the book." 

He paused with a slow blink. "The records are kept in a book, yes?"

"Eh, close enough."


---


The Grand City Hall Records Department, (a pretentious name if ever Prey heard one), didn't close until eight o'clock, so they were able to get there well before closing time. With how everything else had been going lately, Prey was mildly surprised. The ISND usually only ever seemed to arrive too late, or just before.


---


The ISND strode in confidently through the front doors, ignoring the ponies that scattered out of Gloom and Crimson's way as they headed straight for the side hall with the big 'City Records Department' sign above it.

On the way, they skirted around a blue mare in a star spangled cloak and hat arguing loudly, (and losing), with a clerk. "Honestly officer, a great and powerful bear did eat Trixie's show license. That's why Trixie is here!" 

At the ISND's approach The thin unicorn stallion with a floppy fringe behind the desk looked up, bored. 

"Hello and welcome to the Records Department, how may I-erk! How may I help you?" His tone of boredom disappeared part way through as he found himself confronted with Gloom.

"We're here to see the citizenship files of everypony on Pennyworth Avenue." Gloom said commandingly. That was the street Leaflet lived on.

"There's usually, ah, a request process made in advance of any search-"

"We're skipping it."

"I'm, ah, also a bit unsure where all those records might be. An entire street is quite a lot, and just a street name to go off is, well, ah, difficult." The stallion said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Then you'd best hurry. We're going to be waiting right here." Gloom told him unsympathetically.

"There's, also the matter of clearance..." 

The stallion trailed off under the pair of unmoving yellow eyes, "But you're both Royal Guards, so I'm sure it'll be fine. I mean you're Night Guards! Night Guards, of course." He chuckled nervously, backing away. "I'll just go and do that now, shall I?"

"That would certainly be helpful, yes." Gloom agreed. 

'-I feel bad intimidating somepony like this again, but we don't have time-', Gloom thought as the clerk hurried off.

"I just thought of something I forgot." Prey spoke up from below counter top height, sounding shocked. 

"If it's a unicorn scout, they may not physically touch the file at all. If they just use their aura, the marker won't get transferred to their hooves." Prey couldn't believe he'd missed something so obvious. It was beyond basic, how could he not have factored that in?

'Fool, fool, fool.' Prey berated himself. 

He'd been too caught up in finding some way to keep Luna satisfied that'd he'd overlooked the obvious. 

'This is what happens when you rush things, and now there's no time to make adjustments. Should we just call it off?' Prey worried.

"It's alright Prey. Neither of us thought of that either." Gloom said, bringing Prey's panic to a jarring halt and making him look up in surprise.

Gloom stirred himself to make an effort and tried to look unconcerned by Prey's worries, "Don't worry about it Prey. Nopony's perfect, and there's nothing that can be done now. We just have to proceed with the plan and hold our breath."

"But it's no longer going to work. Always assume the worst will occur in any plan. They're definitely going to send a unicorn." Prey said.

"We had very little time for enacting this plan, so there was bound to be things we overlooked." Gloom reminded him, "And it's still better than having no plan. We can only wait and see if it works."

Crimson joined in, "A unicorn is also only one in three ponies. And one who exclusively uses magic instead of their hooves has got to be even less likely I would think. The chances are in our favour."

"The population of Canterlot is hardly an even split. And still..."

Gloom shook his head, "Remember what I told you Prey? You can't calculate everything. Life's not some big maths problem, sometimes you've just got to do your best and hope."

'Hope? As if that'll ever work.' Prey thought. 

Prey hated hope. It was a vice of the weak, a poison far more addictive than salt or any other drug. It built you up with no foundation, promising beautiful things you could never reach, and then brought you crashing down into the depths of despair. 

'And don't I know it all too well?' He thought bitterly.

Unfortunately at this point, there was little else to do but hope, since the Records Clerk was already on his way back, a heavy looking stack of files levitated in his aura. 

"Here they are." The stallion announced, slightly out of breath as he dropped the stack in front of the ISND. Or two of the ISND anyway, since Prey was below the level of the counter top.

"Is this all of them?" Gloom asked. '-doesn't seem to be enough for an entire avenue of ponies-'

"Ah, no err, sir."

"Where are the rest of them, then?" Gloom asked.

The clerks lanky fringe seemed to droop further, "I'll just, ah, just go and try and find those now. There's just a lot of them and they're spaced out, so it might take some time, is all." He excused himself again, backing away to return to his search.

"We'll be waiting." Gloom nodded without looking up from the pile of files, only his tufted ears turning to follow the retreating stallion's hoof steps.

"Found Leaflet's sir," Crimson said a second later, pointing with one wing tip at a file near the top of the pile. "Spring, Leaflet, Mare, Unicorn. This must be hers."

Prey couldn't see the label from his position down on the floor, but Gloom quickly confirmed Crimson's find as he pulled it out, "Here we are. Clerk!" He shouted back into the archives. 

"Um, yes?" Came the stallions voice from between two archive shelves.

"Forget the other files. Bring back a blank citizenship form instead."

"Ah, pardon me?" 

"Bring back a blank citizenship form and a quill-Ah, never mind, there's one here." Gloom called again.

"A blank citizen...? But-but, that's illegal to just create-"

"I am the Night Guard. I decide what's legal or not. Bring back a blank form." Gloom cut him off, feeling guilty for misusing his authority like this. '-but it is my duty to bring the salt dealers to justice and we need this-'

The knowledge that this clerk would probably forever have his view of the Night Guards trustworthiness tarnished was no small weight on Gloom's conscience. It was not his own reputation he cared for, but that of Princess Luna's. The Night Guard were her creation and its image reflected heavily on her. She was already under intense scrutiny after her recent reformation and return from being Nightmare Moon.

'-but this is more important. Her majesty herself was the one to teach us that all those years ago. Do thy duty, even when none shalt love thee for it. There is honour in sacrifice-', Gloom thought, reciting to himself some quote from clan history. 

That quote definitely sounded like something the Night alicorn would've said. 

Prey wondered what other secret records the clans had of Luna. Did they have any on her fall to Nightmare Moon?

Gloom removed the little metal vial from under his chest plate, keeping it hidden from the view of the returning clerk bearing the blank form.

"Here goes nothing." Gloom muttered.


---


'-was it only yesterday?-', Gloom thought, '-was it really was only yesterday we were down a hellhole?-' 

Hot water drummed off the taut hide of the thestral's wings as he rinsed them. Prey heard rather than saw Gloom lift his head and look around the communal showers, '-this seems so... wrong-'

Prey knew exactly where the thestral was coming from, but he didn't agree. Intellectually, it made no sense. Emotionally however, it felt wrong to be enjoying the hot water, traitorous even. 

'-here we are, when there's four murdered ponies down in the morgue who'll never get to enjoy a shower again-'

'Oh will you please get over it already.' Prey thought through gritted teeth, shaking his head to remove some water from his eyes. He was sick of constantly overhearing Gloom's thoughts going back to the cellar every five minutes. Prey didn't want to be reminded of it any more than Gloom wanted to keep remembering it.

Dwelling on the past like Gloom and Crimson were doing wasn't practical. Unfortunately, Prey knew first hoof how deeply something like this could burrow into your head. It rattled round and around in there, and whenever your mind wasn't otherwise occupied the memory would roll back to the forefront in all it's sickening glory. 

It was like rolling a stone uphill. The moment you stopped pushing, it'd crush you.

'-must remember to get some blood wine at dinner. Got to get the tracer from that unicorn in twenty minutes. Got to report to Captain Nighthawk before. Got to avoid rats skittering about-', Prey saw Gloom wince and give himself a small slap upside of the head with his own wing. '-stopit!-'

'Alright, that's it. Enough is enough.' Prey thought. 

This was affecting Gloom's rationality beyond acceptable limits, no matter how cold blooded that sounded. Because Prey had no choice but to work with Gloom and Crimson, then he needed them to succeed in their job, least they drag Prey down too and left him having to face Luna's displeasure.

Prey stepped out from under the stream of hot water and gave himself a quick shake off, enough to clear the wool from his eyes to see at least. It was just the ISND in this part of the showers.

Over on the far side, and very happy about the distance between their two groups, were about eight Royal Guards, who'd been using the gym in their free time and were now washing up before going home. Good, let them stay over there. Way over there. Prey had work to do.

So what aspects should Prey appeal to in an effort to snap Gloom and Crimson out of it? Revenge? The inevitability of life? Ideals of duty?

Prey weighed it up for a moment before deciding on his approach and making a start. 

"Sir, you said we were going to stop with the share and tell session each night. It's not quite night yet, but you never said how long we'd be stopping for. So how about starting again right now?" He asked, sodden fur dripping.

"Now isn't really the time Prey." Gloom said dully.

"It's not quite night yet, but it's probably close enough I think." Prey said, pressing on. He was confident that if he could just talk long enough while monitoring Gloom's thoughts, he could manipulate the thestral to change his thinking.

"Well, my contribution for the day is that people are actually just by products of life. It's like a river, and we all have got cross it some day. Until then, everybody's just along for the ride, good, bad, indifferent. If you want to see the good, you'll see the good, and if you want to see-"

"Prey, no offence," Gloom interrupted bluntly, not turning his head, "But you are perhaps the last pony I want to hear any of encouragement from. Please be quiet."

Prey paused. Well he'd tried, but it seemed Gloom was determined not to hear anything he had to say. He'd hoped Gloom had found some closure last night. However Prey couldn't allow himself to be satisfied with this result, so pressed on against his better judgement.

"And why not? You're still caught up on yesterday-"

"-And you're not, Prey! That's precisely where the problem is. You aren't letting yourself feel anything." Gloom snapped, going from passive to aggressive in a heartbeat.

Prey took a precautionary step backwards, "And why would I want to feel depressed and apathetic all the time? Why should I let one event drag me down for the rest of my life?"

"It's barely been a day, and you're just lying to yourself."

"Wrong. I'm just not denying reality. I can't choose what happens, but I can choose my response. If you're going to choose-"

"Prey, Prey, Prey. Shut up. You're not even close to the same flight path as us. You're way off over there, not where you should be. And I haven't got the foggiest how to fix your problem. And that's part of my duty to Princess Luna too, but it's not working and I don't know how, and, so..." The tension drained from Gloom's wings, and he sighed wearily, "...So you're still the last pony we want to hear any encouragement from."

"Sheep. A little runt sheep, but not a pony," Prey muttered under his breath, pitched just loud enough to be heard over the hissing of water, "And that's not a good enough reason for why not."

"Because," Crimson spoke up in his usual deliberate manner, "You are terrible at encouragement. Like, really terrible. Awful actually."

Gloom and Prey both turned to blink in wide eyed surprise at Crimson. Gloom pointed at the pegasus, "Yes, that. Those reasons. What he said." 

"Usually, such a statement is proceeded or followed by the words, 'no offence'." Prey said slowly.

Gloom let out a cough of laughter without meaning to, then quickly clamped down on it with a surprised look of guilt. At the confused yellow and blue set of eyes that turned to him, Gloom reluctantly explained his lapse in demeanour. 

"It's not funny, it was just something going through my head. Because you said 'usual', and there's nothing usual about you two." He said, feeling awkward.

"What about this was unusual sir?" Crimson asked blankly.

"No, listen, it wasn't funny, it was just..." Looking at the dripping Prey and Crimson, both still blankly looking back at him suddenly seemed to be exactly that. 

'-really funny-'

Gloom's mouth started twitching.

'-funny? This isn't funny, it shouldn't be funny. How can I laugh at a time like this?-', Gloom thought in shock, but laugh he still did.

A snort bubbled out of Gloom's nose, then a rising chuckle which he tried to cover with a hoof, the action accidentally making his dripping mane fall in his eyes. That just made Gloom snort harder as he simultaneously tried to wipe his trailing mane out of his eyes and stop laughing when it was, '-clearly isn't appropriate to do so-'. 

That of course just made it seem all the funnier.

And then, "Snrk." 

But it didn't come from the Sargent. 

Gloom and Prey stared in real astonishment at Crimson, who's normally blank face wore a look of equal parts shock and mortification. "I, pardon me. I didn't mean-I am sorry sir..."

"Ha Ha Ha!" A full laugh finally came out of Gloom, he no longer even tried to suppress it. So he stood there laughing and being ashamed that he was laughing, mane dripping in his eyes. 

'-it's not funny, four ponies are dead but it feels good to laugh-'

Ever seen someone with razor sharp canines, bedraggled, soaking wet, and fully laughing out in the open with a slightly crazy edge? Especially when they're normally so careful to keep those fangs hidden? 

Prey imagined those normal posh ponies out on Canterlot's streets would have squawked and run a mile.

Prey started to laugh as well, although with him it came more of a conscious choice, and was more of a strange giggle than a laugh. 

"Khe khe khe khe."

Of course, hearing Prey's off kilter giggle just made Gloom laugh more, which finally broke through Crimson's self control (or possibly it was just bewilderment), and got him to laugh as well. "Aha, ha, ha ha."

That really got Gloom going, scarred chest jumping up and down as he laughed and laughed, finally having to sit down right there on the tiles, hot water still beating down on his head and pooling around his hooves.

It wasn't funny, or at least not that funny. Definitely not enough for them to all stand or sit here like idiots laughing. Especially considering the ISND had never even chuckled at the same thing before. 

"Ha ha Ha ha!" 
"Khe khe khe khe." 
"Aha ha ha, aha!"

The three of them fed of each other, fuelling their merriment further until finally they were all laughed out. 

'-I feel so much lighter-', Gloom thought, sounding surprised as he calmed down, corners of his mouth still twitching. Gloom thought he should feel guilty for feeling better, but strangely he didn't.

Crimson's wing edge came up to massage his cheek as he worked his jaw. "My face hurts from laughing." He commented blankly. Then his lips twisted upwards again at himself in memory, "Ha, ow."

Prey had heard the saying, 'Laughter is the best medicine for the soul'. He didn't prescribe to that belief in the slightest, because there was no way it was so simple. But Gloom and Crimson certainly seemed to feel that way, which was why Prey had joined in laughing with the group. 

'No matter how stupid, if it floats their boat and doesn't harm me...' Prey thought, metally shrugging.

Still, acting along and joining in hadn't been an... unpleasant experience.

All three of them completely ignored the Royal Guards on the other side of the showers giving them weird looks. Probably never seen a thestral laugh before.

"Haaa...." Gloom let out a long sigh, finally getting himself back under control enough to get up and turn off the shower. His eyes still had the rings under them, but they no longer looked so hollow. He scraped his sopping mane back out of his eyes and gave Crimson and Prey an embarrassed sort of half grin. 

"Lieutenant Screech wants to meet us in ten minutes. What say you we get there on time so we can all meet this unicorn who has our tracer?" He asked.

"Yes sir." Crimson acknowledged, already heading for the towel rails. Prey splayed his legs and gave himself a shake like a dog, paying his swinging ears no mind as they wetly swatted him in the face. He was used to it.

Crimson came back with a number of towels draped over his wing, wordlessly offering one to Gloom, who took it with with a nod. He paused and squinted at the faded label sewn into the corner, "Huh, Luxury Linen. How about that." He muttered.

Crimson offered a towel towards Prey too, "Would you like one, little lamb?"

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Little lamb, really?"

"What? I mean, I meant to say Prey-"

"No no, you said 'little lamb'." Prey insisted, hardly able to believe that Crimson had said something as innocent as that.

Crimson didn't seem able to believe it either. His mouth opened and closed, "I didn't mean...I apologise, I don't know why I addressed you like that. Your name is Prey, I mean." 

Crimson was so embarrassed that his mental walls even became weak enough for Prey to hear; '-can't believe let that name slip past-'

Gloom was looking like he was trying not to start laughing again.

Prey wondered how long that name had subconsciously been floating around in the back of Crimson's otherwise rigidly structured mind. 'If that's what he's secretly been internally referring to me as all the time in his head, I'm going to...well, do nothing actually.' 

In light of the fact that Prey'd only just succeeded in getting Gloom and Crimson to mentally move off the cellar, he wasn't about to start an argument. Besides, he wasn't offended. Little lamb was hardly an insult, merely a physical description.

Prey took the towel and started to dry his wool off.


------


Gloom critically examined the tracer he'd been hoofed, gripped in the claw of his wing. It didn't look like much. A small, funnel shaped glass beaker, the top securely corked down and sealed with wax. Gloom gave it a small shake, making the viscous pale liquid inside slosh. There were flakes of something glittery and purple mixed in there too.

"And this will be able to track that marker stuff we put on the file, yes?" Gloom asked, looking at the neat row of similarly prepared beakers set along the counter top.

"Correct. That is a magical solution which'll react when it comes into close proximity to the 'marker' agent, as you called it." The unicorn, a rather shaggy coated brown stallion named Future Spark, told the small gathering of Night Guard officers. Future Spark didn't seem overly bothered about being alone and surrounded by thestrals, but that might've just been because he came across as an over optimistic fool.

"Close proximity? How close is close?" Lieutenant Screech asked. Along with Corporal Humming, Starry Wing, and the ISND, that made seven of them in the office, which looked alot like a hastily re-purposed lab.

"Oh, only about two hundred yards, although depending on the concentration of the marker agent present, it could be two hundred and fifty if you're lucky." Future Spark said, smirking proudly.

"So this cannot lead us straight to the marker?" Screech asked, displeased.

"What, like a compass? Oh no no, nothing like that. It just lights up when the marker agent is close. Like this, see?" Future Spark said, showing them a sealed small metal bowl.

Spark's blue aura lit up around the wooden grip of the thick lid, and removed it. Instantly, the flakes in the beaker Gloom held and all the others along the counter top lit up, twinkling brightly like purple fireflies.

"See?" Spark said happily, "That's the kind of magical reaction you'll get when you're standing right next to the marker." 

Prey couldn't see what was inside the metal bowl, but he assumed it was the same clear marker agent Gloom had painted on the folder back in the Records Hall.

"It only lit up now. Why was it not glowing before?" Starry Wing demanded.

"For the demonstration of course. It wouldn't be much of a demonstration otherwise now would it?" Future Spark asking, looking very proud of himself.

"No, why was it not glowing if you had a bowl of the marker stuff right there?" Gloom said, pointing at the metal bowl. 

Screech, Starry Wing, and Gloom were all thinking along the same lines, '-does this tracer only work with direct line of sight? If so, it's kind of useless-'

Spark quirked a shaggy eyebrow, "Because this is a lead crucible, of course." He said, waving the lid still grasped in his aura under their noses as if that should've made it obvious.

Ever the diplomatic thestral, Starry wing stepped in, "Future Spark, could you please explain to those of us with limited magical knowledge why it being lead matters?" 

Future Spark wasn't a direct member of the Guard, he was a member of the Palace bureau staff. As such, he hadn't been told exactly why they wanted this tracking magic. Not that Future Spark seemed the least bothered by that.

"Magic doesn't go through lead. See? I'm holding the lid by the wood. Actually, you can still manipulate lead if there's sufficient magical power to overwhelm the natural anti-magical properties of lead and interact with the metal directly. It's a fascinating subject to work on, with real in-depth theory work-"

"Thank you that explanation was sufficient for our needs." Starry Wing interrupted Spark before he could get too far side tracked.

"So this tracer won't work if our target is behind any lead." Screech stated rather than asked.

"Oh that's highly unlikely Lieutenant, don't worry. Who'd want to live in a house entirely made of lead?" Future Spark asked.

"Someone who wants to avoid getting magically tracked down maybe?" Prey muttered. No one heard him.

"This tracer is very limited in range. How do you suggest we best utilise the number of tracers we have here to scan for our target?" Starry Wing asked, picking up one of the beakers. He didn't mention that this all hinged on whether or nor someone actually did take the bait at the Record's Hall as intended. 

Three pairs of thestral eyes shifted expectantly to Gloom. "What-? Oh, right. Er, I suggest having a line of Night Guards fly low over the city, at about a hundred yards apart and fifty yards up. Let's see, there's ten beakers here, so we could cover the city in one thousand two hundred yard swathes."

The Night Guard officers nodded in acceptance of Gloom's plan. It was as likely to be as good as any other, and once again this was Gloom's investigation, so the decision was also his until Nighthawk said otherwise.

"You're searching the whole of Canterlot? Well, that'll probably take you at least ten hours," Future Spark spoke up, head tilted to the side as he calculated, "So that means you'll have plenty of time." He announced brightly.

Screech cleared his throat, "Plenty of time until what?"

"Until the tracer magic wears off of course." Spark replied confidently, completely missing the looks he was given. There was a long moment.

"Future Spark, are you by any chance related to a certain Taffy Hopes?" Gloom asked.

"Why yes I am. She's my cousin. How'd you know?" Spark asked, sounding pleased.

"Lucky guess." Gloom sighed, '-I had a hunch-'.  

"Okay, how long will this magic last then?"

"Well, I estimate it'll last roughly thirty-four hours. I started at four o'clock, so thirty-four hours on from that... About two in the morning on Thursday." Future Spark answered. That estimate was below Prey's own. Either Spark was being overly conservative (unlikely), or his magic was weaker than Prey had expected. 'Good to know.'

"Can you make more of these tracers once these expire?" Crimson asked, looking at the beaker Gloom still held in his wing.

"Noooope. Well, I could, but it won't help. The marker will have expired by then too, so you'll end up tracking nothing but a dead, dud, doo-doo, dodo."

"That should still leave us enough time."  Screech said, while Corporal Humming was busy giving the eccentric unicorn a long, hard stare.

"Well it would be best to not waste anymore of that time limit then. We don't know what other delays might occur in our search." Starry Wing announced, starting to gather all the beakers up into a box. 

Spark cheerily waved them goodbye, "Have fun. I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for soon. Because, you know, it kinda' needs to be soon. But have fun anyway."


---I---​