These City Walls Chapter 1: Wicked Stable, Part 3
The room was empty and bare. It was a little bit beyond bare; it was purposefully neglected. All that existed was a long table placed a little bit off-center of the square cubicle, one long side close to a naked white wall.
The other walls shared a similar dress code save the one directly opposite, which had a suspiciously large mirror taking up more than 80% of its face.
And a single table lamp was all that was left to decorate the interrogation room.
The tabletop had plenty of stains - mostly rings caused by perspiring cups of water, or mugs of coffee that had dribbled down the side. Some other stains were helped into creation by the more un-talkative of suspects, or the ones who thought that picking a fight in the middle of a police station was any sort of a good idea.
While they didn't practice violence over there at the local precinct, they sure knew how to defend themselves.
"Is that a two-way mirror?" Asked Twilight, standing on the side of the table with less space.
"Yeah," replied Canary. "Also they can hear whatever we say so I'd watch it if I were you."
There really wasn't any point in hiding, by Canary's reckoning. It was kind of obvious what that thing was, and ponies always asked anyway. It was just something you do when you get into a place like this.
"So... eh... heh heh..." Twilight chuckled nervously. "What... can I do for you, officer?"
"Where were you last night?" Canary started to pace the floor.
"Um... well... Spike and I... Spike's my dragon, by the way, he and I were in the library... that's my house... the library in Ponyville, where I live... ah..." Twilight thought hard, trying to grin her worries away as she usually did when she was in an uncomfortable position. "And I was studying..."
"Studying?"
"Mythological history."
Canary rocked her head side to side with raised eyelids as if to say, what now?
"Mythology," Twilight repeated. "The study of old stories... and legends..."
"And this Spike, can he back up your alibi?" Canary didn't even pretend to care.
"Uh... sure!" Nodded Twilight. "He was packing up my books and stuff at the time. He's such a hard worker, you know? And he... um... yeah..."
Canary was staring at a corner of the room like a fresh hot pepperoni pizza was just sitting there. Colt, she could go for a steaming pizza right about now.
"And did you murder anyone yesterday?" she asked, not taking her eye off the corner.
"What? No!" exclaimed Twilight. "I couldn't do such a thing, I mean, I have so much research to do!"
Canary then shot a glance toward the weak-kneed purple pony.
"Not... that I'd do it anyway?" she grinned again, sheepishly.
There was silence as Canary's eyes wandered, once again, as she thought about nothing at all. That kind of thought where you just think of the thought itself to get it over with.
"Yeah, alright, you can go." Canary waved, walking toward the exit.
"What... that's it?"
"Yeah," she reconfirmed. "You can stay here if you want to. I'm getting outta here."
Twilight remained for a while, scratching her head in puzzlement.
Both Canary and Twilight jumped a bit when a sharp rapping sounded out from behind the wall with the mirror.
Canary sighed.
"Actually," she said, turning over her shoulder to look at Twilight as she left. "You stay here for just a minute. I'm gonna go... talk to someone."
Twilight stood, alone and cold, in the room.
"Um..." she said, to no one in particular. She really wished she had a book right now.
As Canary left the room not even three minutes after she entered, all eyes followed her as she made a quick turn and headed directly for the viewing gallery.
"Canaaaary," said a voice as she went by. It belonged to Staff Sergeant Blue Beat, the heavily facial-haired head of the station. He sat behind his frosted glass walls in his office most of the time, handling administration and paperwork duties, and taking care of the overseeing of cases in particular. He had a bad feeling this was one case that was slowly slipping out of his hooves.
"I'll explain later, Beat," she said, walking by.
Blue beat gruffly snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Just reminding you that you owe me a big one."
The gallery door swung open magically, and Canary stepped in, joining Princess Celestia who was simply, for lack of a better term, spying on Twilight Sparkle in the adjoining room. The door shut, leaving them alone.
"That was it?" asked Celestia. "Oh, I had expected so much more from you, Canary."
Canary felt a deep well of resentment swell up on the inside. It wasn't for the Princess, nor for her personal wishes, but it was rather, directed toward herself, for something that she had reminded herself about.
But she swallowed it down.
"Just doing my job, Princess," she said. "This is a pretty important case, you know. You wouldn't have sent those... guards of yours otherwise."
"Oh, alright," Princess Celestia submitted. "But just this once, ok?"
"Right, Princess," said Canary, watching Twilight through the window. She had started to play with the button on the lamp, switching it on and off rapidly. "Look, that's not... a murderer. Like you said earlier, she's your pupil, right? For... something..."
"Magic," Celestia clarified.
"Magic, yeah..." Canary absorbed. "That fancy school of yours. Personal pupil. I highly doubt she's got anything to do with it."
"You're not just saying that because of me, are you?" Celestia's presence exploded in the room when she said that. She had this thing about her.
"No," said Canary. Twilight had now pushed too hard and the lamp had toppled over. She was looking around nervously, as if trying to figure out if the ponies behind the mirror were watching her, as she magically floated the lamp back into place.
"She..." Canary tried to find the right word. "She's a dork, Princess, no offence."
Celestia snickered.
"But there's something else though, much more worrisome," continued Canary.
"Oh?"
"I didn't know that Twilight Sparkle, esquire, was your pupil, but somepony sure did."
Celestia nodded. This had crossed her mind as well, it seemed.
"From the original assessment, it seemed that the murderer, whoever he or she is, was rather explicit about mentioning Twilight's name. It was quite purposeful, I feel, as if it were a message of some kind."
Yet another message? Canary just said that, but mentally took a note anyway. You sometimes come across new thoughts like that while talking in general, and it never hurts to over-run all possibilities. That's how true police work is done, the Canary way.
"Might be they're trying to get to you, Princess," Canary wrapped it up.
"It is certainly a possibility," said Celestia. "I do not know if I have any enemies who are willing to commit such foul deeds just to get to me, but I'm sure you can't discount any avenue, yes?"
"Not a one, Princess. Either way, I know this is out of my bounds, but please look out for yourself, ma'am. Just in case."
"Just in case," Celestia agreed.
The princess tapped her hoof on the ground.
"Well, I ought to be getting back to the castle," she mused. "I need to take care of Luna."
"Luna, ma'am?"
"My sister?"
"Oh, right," Canary suddenly remembered. "That thing a while back ago with the thing. She's... doing well?"
"Oh yes, very much so. We are coming along ever so nicely. She's still adjusting, of course, the poor dear, but she was just simply misguided."
"Well, then to business for both of us?"
"But I've come all this way," said Princess Celestia, suggestively, a pleading look in her eyes.
Canary felt that sort of welling feeling again, deep in her chest behind her heart. It swelled like a balloon, threatening to pop and make her lose composure.
"I... really can't, Princess. I'm sorry. But I'll see what I can do, alright?"
"Alright, Canary. I'll be here."
"I'll be in contact, Princess," Canary quickly left, shutting the door behind her again. She breathed a slow sigh of relief. This... woman. She would never understand how somepony so benevolent and so kind could have hidden this rather outrageous side of pranksterism. She supposed being Princess for this long meant you had to find a way to escape from going insane, and she was just doing what kept her entertained. It mustn't be easy, being at the top. Not at all.
"Cannnnaaaarrrryyy..." came the same gruff voice from before.
"Alright, alright, your office. In five. I need a drink. Also..." she scanned the station floor, where things were slowly getting back to normal. "BERRY!"
"Yeah Sarge!" she quickly appeared, out from behind a filing cabinet.
"Get in there." Canary jerked a horn.
"What?"
"Interrogation room. Get in there. You always wanted to conduct one yourself, right? Get in there. Now."
"Oh! Uh... alright," Rebby flustered around. "Do I need my helme... no I don't. Ah, I'm going!"
Constable Berry burst through the door, to Twilight's shock, a determined and mean look on her face.
And behind a two-way mirror, a princess smiled.
,---(*< ~---,
'---------------'
It had been a good half-hour since they last moved. They had last moved just before seeing that thing behind one of the windows of the shop, and right now cramps were starting to seethe and burn into both of their sets of front legs.
Duriandal had her face pressed up close against Blitz's chest, eyes peeking out the side at the wall. Her legs were wrapped around Blitz as if she were an oversized stuffed toy; a security blanket for an over-aged child.
Blitz herself, being older and with this overzealous need to be responsible, was sitting upright and had her own legs wrapped around Duriandal's head, comforting her. Her own eyes were stuck fast to the window, as if keeping constant watch would prevent its return.
"Duri?" Blitz whispered, cutting the silence like a hammer smashing a pane of glass.
She didn't respond.
"Duri," Blitz repeated. "I think it's ok."
Again, there was no verbal response, but Blitz could feel Duriandal shaking her head slightly against her body.
Five minutes passed.
"Duri, I can't feel my legs," Blitz said, plaintively.
Another five went by.
"Duri, I think the oil's staining your fl..."
There was a sudden bounce of resistance, as if they were two magnets of equal poles suddenly brought into proximity. But despite that, Duriandal kept on holding fast, unable to decide which was more important to her at that particular moment.
"Oh my goodness, it's leaving some kind of weird stain," continued Blitz, with a very unenthused voice.
Again, that sort of indecisive movement occurred, but this time with much more force and much less hesitation.
"Oh. Look at that. I dare say it will be permanent."
"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggg!" came a little sound from Duriandal, like a rat trying to lift weights. It came from the back of her throat as her compulsions became an angry kangaroo, kicking her brain in all the soft wobbly bits.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" she cried, suddenly peeling herself off Blitz, continuing that constant, high-register wail as she ran to her workbench and grabbed a bucket that lay beside it. The wailing continued, albeit muffled, through clenched teeth as she ran the bucket by the handle to the oil spill, where it was slowly setting into the wood.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh! AHHHHHHH!" tears were streaking down her cheeks. It was a mix of a lot of raw emotions that suddenly came into play; such as this uncontrollable force that made her expose herself in the face of potential danger, as well as the possibility that her precious floorboards might forever be tarnished.
Blitz felt a bit guilty, but that was soon sent into distraction as the tingle of blood rushing back into cut-off limbs started to overwhelm her from the shoulders down.
"Oh... argh... ahh..." moaned Blitz, trying not to move exessively.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!" screamed Duriandal, squeezing some solvent onto the oil with a sponge. She gently nudged Blitz out of the way, who was menacingly close to the puddle.
"Ouuauarrrgggghhh!!!" screamed Blitz as her needle-pricked legs hit the ground.
"Ahhhhhhh!!"
If anypony were to enter the scene now, their immediate reaction would probably be to make a hasty departure.
Duriandal scrubbed down the floor to a sheen with a rag, which was eventually returned to the bucket of supplies along with the sponge. She only took a moment aside to ruffle her hair again, in frustration, before running the bucket back to its exact original place.
"Uhhhhhhrrrrghhh," her single-toned cry started to die down as she ran back to the middle of the room and flopped down next to Blitz, looking remarkably like a sort of bear skin rug.
"You did that on purpose," the rug accused, trying to catch her breath.
"Well... yeah..." muttered Blitz, through the control of her own irritation, "But I had... no... other... choice..."
A limb swung out and smacked Blitz in the right foreleg.
"Nnnnnnnngggggg!!!" she cringed, twisting up into some kind of macabre statue. "O...kay... I... deserved... that...."
"Look..." she continued, inching away from Duriandal with minimal movement. "It's... ok, alright? Nothing... happened, and nothing will... It's all going to be... fine."
"You do not know that."
"Yeah, I don't. I really don't. But we can't leave, and we can't just stay still for the rest of the night," Blitz massaged some life back into her arms. "This... place... it's a pretty busy street, from the looks of things? Ponies will be around really early and as soon as it's safer, we'll get out and find some help with the police, alright?"
The building was cast into the quiet of night again, as both ponies mused on the thought. It truly didn't seem like that thing was returning, but it was never something of certainty. At the most, Blitz decided, they could try to prepare for the worst, and being extremely stressed out and vulnerable was not a step in the right direction.
"Look," she said. "If that thing wanted to hurt us, it'd have by now. If it hasn't already come in, it probably either can't or doesn't want to. We don't know who... or what... we're dealing with, so maybe we should just... get on with the night," Blitz suggested. She didn't really believe it much herself, but at least if Duriandal bought it, maybe that could help with the self-assurance.
"I'd... invite you back to my place, but... well," Blitz kept on trying. "It's up in Cloudsdale, and it's not stable for non-pegs, I'm afraid."
...
"Um... so... what do you do for fun around here?"
...
"I like to do puzzles."
...
"And I love snacks. Don't you love a really good snack? There's this bakery right across the street from my shop up in Cloudsdale, and it's fantastic."
...
"You like... numbers, right?"
...
"Have you heard of something called Sudoku?"
,---(*< ~---,
'---------------'
Her hoofbeats echoed off the walls of the office as Canary stepped in, gingerly, after Staff Sergeant Blue Beat.
Canary stood to, an air of nervousness around her, fixing herself at attention in front of Blue Beat's desk, head held high and proud.
She couldn't help but give a quick once-over of the office, though. It was in her nature to do so everywhere she went, and to quickly come to certain conclusions which may or may not be too quickly made.
It was a chilly, bureaucratic office, one that gave no trace of personality nor emotion. There were no photos on the desk, diplomas hung proudly on the wall, nor even a coat rack. Blue Beat left his hat outside with the rest of the station.
He had always felt that separating his professional and personal life was of utmost importance in a job like this. If they couldn't get to his family, they couldn't get to him, as he'd learnt from many cases in the past. And thereby most of him remained a mystery to the rest of the station.
Especially so was he a mystery to Corporal Canary, who had transferred there only a day ago.
Staff Sergeant Blue Beat went over the open folder that lay on his desk in front of him, nestled amongst a pile of other paperwork and odd bits of torn scraps adorned with hastily-jotted notes. He read it carefully, slowly, every once in a while looking up at the stoic body of Canary, who didn't so much as move a single hair on her tail.
"Uh... at ease, Corporal," he coughed, returning to the file. Canary breathed out, relaxing only ever so slightly.
"Says here... Blue Canary?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"No relation, sir. Common name."
"Well, you're just 'Canary' from now on, got it?"
"Yes sir."
Blue Beat let loose an air of indignation and went back over the file.
"Commendations... recommendations... top officer two years in a row... why the request to transfer?"
"Sir, I found the challenge of my old posting inadequate to befit my level of exposure, sir," Canary recited.
Oh so, she was prepared for this, thought Blue Beat. Let's put on the pressure.
"What?" he threw.
"Sir, I found the challenge of my old pos..."
"What?" Blue Beat asked again, this time with a razor in the tone.
"... Permission to speak freely, sir."
"Coltdamnit, Canary, just speak English, if that's not too hard for you?"
"Sir, yes sir. I was... bored, sir."
"Didn't like the countryside," Blue Beat stated.
"No sir."
"Too quiet?"
"Yes sir."
"All that fresh air and butterflies and everything too hard for you?"
"No sir."
"Then what?"
"Sir, I feel that my level of knowledge and expertise can be put to better use in this branch, sir."
"Oh, it's expertise now, is it?"
"Sir, I am sorry sir, I did not mean to sp..."
"Alright, tell you what, Corporal. Since you're so eager to show off your... expertise, how about we give you a little assignment? Something easy, to start off. Show off what you can do."
"Yes sir."
Blue Beat flicked open a drawer on his desk with a little bit of magic. The bottom drawer.
The bottom left drawer.
He reserved all the impossible tasks for that drawer. It only had a very few folders in it, but they were always the ones that had to be either assigned very carefully, or very casually depending on the situation. The rest of the station called it the doom drawer, because if you ever had anything from it, you were doomed to fail.
And everypony knew that. You wouldn't even get chastised by Blue Beat for failing. He'd just expect your best and he knew everypony in the station would do that.
Canary didn't know it, though.
He pulled out a brown paper flippy folder thing, marked with red on the cover as 'urgent', flying it across his desk toward Canary's face.
Canary only barely intercepted it with her own magic and left it to hover in front of her.
"There. Read it, do it. It's tomorrow. Don't fail. Dismissed," Blue Beat said, returning to his own work right in front of Canary's face.
"Yes sir," Canary confirmed, clicking her heels and turning for the door.
"Oh and... Canary," he said, as she left.
"Yes sir?"
"Impress me."
---
Ok. This. This was annoying. This was highly, highly inappropriate. This was an indignation, and this was just... what was this?
Canary stood in front of the outer portcullis of Princess Celestia's Royal Castle, in full dress uniform, shiny metal hoof boots clacking on the lowered drawbridge.
She wanted to frown, ever so badly.
This was her first assignment?
Back in the station, yesterday, she read through the documents... twice. The first time to understand it, and the second time because she thought she didn't the first time.
To sum it up, it was pretty straightforward in writing, but definitely not in execution. She was to go to the Grand Galloping Gala that year, by herself, as a representative of the 5th Precinct, to secure some 'extra' funding from Princess Celestia.
Oh yes, how very worthy of her expertise.
She was a pony originally assigned to the countryside just outside of the Canterlot city walls, having found absolutely no challenge in finding the odd lost sheep once in a while, and hanging about drinking tea for the rest of the time. She had no idea what it would be like in the big city, but she reckoned it must be better than what she had. Maybe she was a bit over her head.
One week ago she put in an application for a transfer.
Yesterday she was standing in the middle of a station nearly five times the size of her old one.
Today she was standing in the middle of the grand hall of Celestia's Castle, queuing up, queuing up, to shake hooves with the Princess.
This was a test. It must be. You don't just throw brand new transferees into the thick of things. This is a trial by fire. This is a trial by bloody big hot roasting fire. This is a trial by jet engine.
She kept analyzing the whole situation to keep herself busy as she shuffled through the line, which was slow moving enough, but just a little bit faster than the lines at the theme park she went to as a child.
She forgot when she stopped going to theme parks. Probably the same time she stopped smiling. There really wasn't anything to smile about in life.
She reached the end of the line, and there, in front of her, at the top of the central staircase, was the gorgeous, gracious, glowing dame mother of the entire freaking country.
It was the first time, and only time, Canary truly froze.
The edges of her mouth protested as she forced them to curl upward in some sort of uncomfortable grin. For all intents and purposes, someone could have been sticking a crossbow in her back and forcing her to dance against her will.
"Oh, a Corporal this time?" said Princess Celestia, breaking first ice. She had an unnerving smile of her own. It was also pretty fake, by Canary's analysis, but it had a different sort of intent behind it. You could hide a million things behind a smile like that. Some of them might even be genuine.
"Yes, ma'am," Canary saluted, the only thing she felt appropriate in that situation. "Corporal Blue Canary of 5th Precinct, reporting."
"Blue...? As in Staff Sergeant Blue Beat?"
"No relation, ma'am."
"Ah, I see. Common name," she nodded in understanding, "Usually they send someone with quite a few more stripes, but I see they've skimped this year, hmm?"
"Ah... no ma'am, not at all," Canary quickly made up, "They have simply chosen the one they deemed most adequate for the assignment."
"Oh, I see," Princess Celestia mused. "So coming to the gala and meeting me is just an 'assignment' then?"
"Ah... yes ma'am. I mean no! I mean... uh... it's not an..." Canary started to fluster.
"Oh calm down," Celestia giggled, "I'm just teasing. Enjoy the party, please."
"Ah... thank you ma'am. Thank you for your graciousness," Canary bowed deeply and clicked her heels again.
"Do try the quiche," she said, watching the deflated Canary stumbling down the stairs.
That was all the time Celestia had for her, thank goodness, the line of ponies behind her growing by the minute. It was smart that she arrived relatively early, as she made her way to the ballroom where the food was.
Ah, food. Good Colt, I could do with some food. Doughy steaming pizza, delicious fried mushroom caps and chilled carrot ratatouille and what the hell was this.
Firstly, why is everything on these strange silver platters, and why are they stacked up on layers, and why are they so small? Are we supposed to not eat these things? Canary remembered the end-of-year parties that they threw back in her old precinct out in the countryside. There was no end to the food, the drinks, and the merriment. Even Canary herself would get into the mood if persuaded and could be found actually talking to some of her colleagues about general non-work-related gossip.
At this party, you couldn't tell the difference between the food and the decor. The bouquet that stood central in the middle of the buffet table looked more appetizing to Canary than what else was on offer.
What the hoof is a canapé? Petit fours salés? What, you're supposed to eat four at a time just to get enough of a mouthful? These little section labels didn't help her a bit. Whatever happened to simple words like 'appetizers' or 'soup'?
Oh, forget this, Canary thought. I'll just mingle. That's right, my best skill. Mingling. Of course, to Canary, the definition of Mingling was to stand in the darkest corner of any given room and stare at everypony who passed by as if they did something horribly wrong, and make sure everything was in tip top shape and behaviour was at its best.
There were no dark corners in this room. Also, it was fairly huge. Canary suited herself to stand next to the large ice sculpture that was placed under a large cloth banner that hung down from one of the balcony's balustrades. She looked up at it. It was the imposing figure of a walrus, or something. Canary hadn't the faintest idea.
"Oh, hello again," came a voice from behind her. She turned, and at the sight of Celestia, yet once more, she gave her usual quick salute and stood at firm alertness.
"You're not at work," Celestia said, gently. "You can enjoy yourself, you know."
"I am, ma'am," Canary replied, "Pardon my affront, but were you not only just recently meeting guests?"
"Oh, I got bored," said Celestia quite plainly, tilting her head as if to say just so. "I always feel that if you get bored, sometimes a change of pace is necessary to ease the tension, as long as it doesn't hurt anypony."
Canary nodded at that. There was a certain truth it in that she couldn't really deny.
"And I'm just making my rounds. Did you try the quiche?" she suddenly remembered.
"Ah... yes..." Canary lied. "It was... nice."
"And how are you finding the party?"
"It's... great."
"Do you like the ice sculpture of me?" Celestia nodded to the big melting thing beside Canary.
"Oh... magnificent," Canary's head started to nod in all directions randomly. "Absolutely..."
"It's a walrus," said Celestia.
"...very walrusy," Canary finished. She hadn't had her guard up like this in years.
"Just between you and me, I had it made just to see if anypony'd notice," Celestia smiled again, hushing her voice.
"It... did cross my mind," admitted Canary.
"Glad to see our policeponies are as observant as ever," said Celestia, as she surveyed the room herself, "But I'm afraid I must leave you to your... socialising. Back to the grind, as they say."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you ma'am."
Celestia brushed past her and walked off to talk to some other important-looking ponies in the crowd.
"Oh, and actually try the quiche," she commanded in leaving. "They're the little round things that look like topless pies."
,---(*< ~---,
'---------------'
The book, one of many that Blitz brought with her everywhere she went, was brand new, and was now nearly three-fifths finished.
200 Sudoku Puzzles: Super Hard, by Sakura Bonsai.
Sakura Bonsai. Right. That was just an extremely cheesy pen name for the 4 or 5 Unicorns using magic to generate a bunch of puzzles that were specifically crafted to be deviously difficult. You know, super hard.
Something that Blitz had worked her way up to, from 'easy challenge' all the way through 'intermediate' and onto this book, which she had just purchased from the bookstore not two days prior to this point.
And Duriandal was there, scribbling furiously, as she tore through them like a fork through an extra-crumbly plaice fillet.
She didn't know how to do them, you know. She didn't know what one was. She had to read the instructions.
Life is so unfair.
In fact, a half-hour ago when the green bolt was tackling puzzle #64, Blitz almost had a nefarious wave of pride when Duriandal actually stopped to think for more than a minute, but it was only because she had written too fast and that 3 looked like a 2 in that box there, and it was sorted out after a quick do-over.
Blitz's eyes had nearly dried out from staring at her go.
"Feeling better?" she asked, cautiously. As she went on, Duriandal seemed to get more and more possessive of the book.
The sound of pencil scratchings on a page was her only reply.
"Maybe we ought to save some for later... and for me..." she slid a hoof across the floor toward the book.
"Mmmmmmmm!!" came an angry grunt, like a stubborn child who wouldn't share her doll. Duriandal swept the book away, face on the floor, like a guard dog ready to attack. She stared up at Blitz, through narrow eyes and a furious look, pencil trembling between her teeth.
"Alright! Alright!" Blitz backed off. At least she wasn't troubled anymore. Not... as troubled, anyway. "I'm going to charge you for that in the next invoice, you know," she grumbled, under her breath.
Looks like she was free to explore her surroundings, so to speak. She wasn't about to unlock the door, though, and approaching the windows was a bit of a foolish idea, so she was stuck with this little round jail that Duriandal called home, but she wouldn't even call a waiting room.
Best to find out a bit more about her new 'friend', then.
Blitz walked to the side where Duriandal's laboratory equipment was; the thing that caught the most attention in the room. Every so often she looked behind her to see if Duri would take offense at her prying, but she seemed far too engrossed in the book.
I'll take that as an open invitation, then.
The lab table wasn't on the small side, but it wasn't a full utility's worth of stuff either. It seemed just right, as one would expect from somepony like Duriandal.
Also as expected were beakers and flasks of all kinds, lined up from left to right along the edge of the table, all of them equidistantly placed and all of them ordered by size. The ones that actually contained some kind of liquid had their own part of the table to call their own, and right in the center was some sort of apparatus for mixing and shunting and whatnot, with the tubes and the dripping funnel things that Blitz had always seen before but never knew the name of.
It really looked like something out of a cartoon, and to be honest, Blitz had no idea what anything did, nor how it all came together to cause the eventual production of perfume.
Heating and cooling was definitely involved, however, as she noticed a Bunsen burner, and what apparently was a miniature fridge next to the table. She wondered if the fridge contained any food. She was getting quite peckish indeed, having skipped dinner to babysit.
Actually, come to think of it, did Duriandal eat at all? She hadn't complained about it, her stomach was certainly not making any tell-tale signs of starvation, and...
Maybe...
Maybe she was a robot...
No, no. Blitz quickly put that out of her head. No. There's definitely a sandwich or something in the fridge.
Making a quick check again to see that Duriandal wouldn't mind her rifling through her private coldbox, she pried it open by the easy-catch handle and had a look inside.
And there, amongst all the beakers full of various assorted potions was a half-sandwich, with the crusts cut off, in a triangular shape, sitting calmly in the middle of a plate.
Well thank Colt, thought Blitz. Out of curiosity she pried it open to see what sort of filling Duri fancied.
It was empty.
Blitz licked her teeth, sucking at them a bit in contemplation.
There is the very strong possibility that the sandwich's previous contents were liberated by a bunch of very industrial and very clever ants.
Yes, that must have been it.
She closed the fridge and went back to the room.
Behind her, Duriandal had hit puzzle number #184.
Her sleeping area was no better. The bed, for lack of better word for it, looked like someone had constructed it out of empty cardboard boxes and plumbing parts, and then had thrown a mattress on top just to give the illusion that was something to sleep on.
She reached up gingerly and patted the pillow. Well, alright, to be fair, it was soft, and downy, and certainly nothing like sleeping on a 1,999 bit raincloud bed that was a very good investment, I don't care what you say, but still, beds should be elegant. Beds, Blitz always thought, reflected the character of the individual. If you were a princess you slept in a huge four-post bed with curtains because you were fancy and needed privacy. If you were like me, you'd sleep on a lovely bouncy cloud bed because you love your comfort, and sometimes you get a bit angry when you don't know the 11-letter word for 'act of consumption' that starts with 'D' (Deglutition) and it makes you want to jump on things.
She really couldn't tell what this bed represented; although for all intents and purposes it was built for one and only one.
Hm, she'd have to ask about that a little later.
There were two nightstands of similar make beside the bed, the right one of which was empty and the left one having all the business. On its flat wooden top was a night-light for reading, a notebook and pencil placed in a very orderly fashion for jotting down notes, a little bottle of some sort of hair tonic, as described by the label, and five of those Cloud Puffer things.
That's a bit excessive.
She stopped short of going through her drawers, though. That was probably just nudging the line a bit too far, and anyway, it seemed like Duriandal was finished, from the sounds of the large sigh of relief that came out from a tired pony, and the shutting of a tome.
Was there a clock in this room? Oh yes, there was, opposite the bed, above the staircase. Two hours till dawn. Had it been that long already? At least they found a way to keep busy, although Blitz was getting a bit sleepy at this point and even that lumpy disgusting pseudo-bed was looking inviting.
She walked over to Duriandal, who once again had her head buried under her hooves.
"So... enjoyed yourself?" she smiled, looking at the crumpled, molested book, and the fatigued pencil.
"What? No!" Duriandal yelled up at her, breaking her protective leg-bridge. "That was horrible!"
Blitz's expression changed from warm understanding to just plain indignation.
"What?! But you finished the whole thing!"
"I know! I had to! Why anypony would do this is terrible! It's just... awful!"
"What in the hay are you talking about!?" Blitz nearly yelled.
"Someone went through all the trouble to make two hundred perfect magic number squares, and ruin it by taking out numbers. Who would do such a thing? Who, Blitz? Why would they make this book? Why?"
"... that's the point of the game, you... spoony... alchemist!"
"Well I just couldn't stop until I had repaired all the damage. I am sorry to say but this is just the most terrible thing I have ever come across," Duriandal shook her head slowly, speaking with an air of anxiety.
"You... my puzzles..."
"And thankfully I did them too, or else you would have to go through it yourself."
"I... I hate you, you know that?" Blitz said.
It was Duriandal's turn to suddenly turn expression.
"... do... do you mean that?" she said, much more softly now.
"No... no I don't," said Blitz, apologetically, lowering her stance into a flop. "But... I think I know why you don't have any friends."
"And I wish somepony would tell me," said Duriandal, sadly.
,---(*< ~---,
'---------------'
They all looked like round topless pies to her. They all looked inedible to her. She should really have asked, but instead decided to do the next best thing and just eat one of everything. That shouldn't be too hard, they were all very small, and eventually she'd come across the quiche.
Also they probably all tasted the same anyway, so she wouldn't have to necessarily lie later if Princess Celestia came back to bother her.
It was only when some random pony gave her a rather odd look that she realised that perhaps her plate should not be piled up that high; another thing that was different from the big 'festi-vations' that her old police Sergeant threw, which encouraged you to stack up your food as high as ponily possible.
She was actually feeling nostalgic about the old country. And she wasn't even a month out. Is this the fast-paced life of the city? Is this how it was going to be like? It was both exhilarating and very menacing at the same time, like petting a sleeping tiger.
She looked down at her barely-full plate. I mean, it wasn't even three stacks high. Well, I guess I'll come back for seconds, she thought, unless that was frowned upon too, in which case I'll just go out for pizza later. They have pizza in Canterlot, right? They better freaking have pizza in Canterlot. Dear Colt, if they don't have pizza here I'm going to throw a fit, and then they're going to have to track me down for...
The barrage of consciousness came to an end as she tacked down upon the first of her many tiny offerings, which happened to be some kind of peach tart thing with custard and a light dusting of flour, which got up her nose and made her cough.
Oh Colt.
The plate tumbled to the floor; the sudden coughing fit making her lose her magical grasp for just that tiny moment. She caught it... mostly, as the plate up-righted itself, but a tiny little baked good went splattering to the slick marble floor.
Immediately, Canary's first reaction was to look around to see if anypony noticed.
No matter who you are, a guilty conscience always reacts in the same way.
Ok, no one saw, I think.
She hastily made way to the nearest table where she set down the plate, so that she could go wipe up her mess.
Oh no.
Oh boy. Oh no.
Don't step there. Please.
Oh, manure.
The pony, with his ruffled overcoat and monocle, went sliding through the air like a graceless swan, and made a ten point landing on his face, where he continued onward and through, ending up hitting the buffet table on the other end.
It was one of those kinds of things which makes an orchestra suddenly stop, which it did.
It was also one of those kinds of things which makes everyone else suddenly stop and watch, which is something that they shouldn't do, because while they're standing around watching, they aren't avoiding the hail of horse d'oeuvres that were, at that moment, finding their way through the skies toward expensive dresses and tuxedos.
Screams and yells erupted all around as Canary just stood there, face taking on a bit of a green tinge. Her eyes sank into her skull as action after action caused some sort of commotion which led to even more catastrophic events occurring.
Oh, there goes the walrus.
And there goes my life, thought Canary, as she walked out of the ballroom, escaping being part of the calamity by wisely being the only one actually aware of what was happening.
In the hallway outside the ballroom, which was still cascading with high-pitched shrieks and screams, Canary had a choice.
To her left was the exit, where she would go back to the station, file her resignation, and go back to the country to live out the rest of her life as a farmer.
To her right was the main staircase where Princess Celestia would be now, entertaining guests.
The choice was clear.
She barely took one step to the right when she realised that her earlier assessment of nopony watching her was wrong.
"Walk with me," said a voice, suddenly appearing behind her, sternly yet calm.
And along with Princess Celestia, they travelled down the eerily long hallway to a more private part of the castle.
Canary could feel her heart beating out of her chest with each step, and with four legs to contend with, her heart was beating pretty darn fast.
They had reached a balcony, where they could take in the night air and look down upon the city of Canterlot, just the two of them. The lights of Canterlot illuminated the cityscape, showing the ponies going about their night lives and having a peaceful time.
"So, you're a policepony," said Celestia, looking at the city, and not at Canary. "Did you see anything in there?"
Canary didn't know how to answer. There really wasn't a right way to say it, so she deemed that the most straightforward way was the most prudent, and then she could say goodbye to everything and get it over with.
"It was my fault, my Princess," she said. "I dropped a tart."
"Oh?"
She wasn't... angry, or mad, or even worse, she wasn't surprised. She did say 'oh', but it wasn't in that sort of astonished way that you would say it if you just found a pinecone in your soup. It was more like the 'oh' that you would give when you were slightly bemused by your child admitting that they were the one who accidentally flooded the living room while still holding the hose.
"Yes, Princess. I beg your forgiveness," Canary dropped to both knees in a grovel.
"Oh get up, you silly peanut," she said.
"Princess...?"
"I meant, did you see anything funny in there?"
"I... don't understand, Princess."
Celestia turned to Canary.
"When you were in that hallway, you could have left or you could have come to see me. You chose to come to see me. Why?"
"Because... I don't know why, Princess," it was the honest truth. She just did it because she knew she should. She didn't know the reason behind it, she just knew that she had to.
"Exactly."
"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Princess."
"Well, let's just say I'm a good judge of character, Canary," she looked at the city again. "Look at our city. Thousands of ponies, going about their lives. It's quite spectacular, don't you think?"
"Our city, ma'am?"
"Well, yes, you're going to be protecting it, aren't you? Isn't that why you joined the force?"
"But... I mean... the accident..."
"Oh, that old thing. Something always goes wrong. I expect in a couple of years something even worse will happen, and it won't be any different than any other year."
"But I... I mean... I did it... I did something horrible..."
"Yes, Canary. We all make mistakes. I've made many in my years."
"But..."
"Canary," she said, now with the forcefulness of a matriarch. "Ponies. Make. Mistakes. But we get over them. What the true difference is, is that we remain truthful and righteous. And it only took one step for me to know if you were or weren't."
Canary remained quiet.
"Anyway, really, this might seem like a big deal to you, but this is... actually quite fun for me. Just between us, I really dislike these things, but sometimes you have to put up a face even if you don't like it."
Canary nodded ever so slightly.
"Just like what you're here for, isn't that right, Canary?"
"Ah..."
"Oh, yes, the funding. I know. Every year they send somepony up to try to get me to dish out a few bits, and sometimes I'm generous, but this is the first time they've ever sent somepony up with initiative."
"Uh..."
"Initiative to the truth, and initiative for honour. There is nothing I respect more, especially from someone tasked to keep the peace in my personal city."
"Well... I try..."
"You know, I like you, Canary. How's twenty thousand bits sound?"
"I... don't..."
"Alright, thirty thousand. But not a bit more, you understand?" A sort of taunting cheekiness started to possess Princess Celestia again.
"Thir...ty... thous..."
"Fine. Five more. But that's my final offer."
"I'll... I'll take it," said a stunned Corporal Canary.
"Well, I must be off, I have to... clean up the mess, I suppose," Celestia sighed. "But you, I will be expecting you back next year, Canary."
And then she left, leaving Canary and the city to themselves.
---
Staff Sergeant Blue Beat looked up from the scroll at Canary, who stood there as if she had just saved an orphanage from a fire. She beamed yellow at the room. She could have lit up the entire station just by standing there in the dark.
She was trying very hard not to smile.
"Thirty-five thousand bits," said Blue Beat, not believing it himself. "And a personal recommendation for promotion from Princess Celestia herself."
"Yes sir," chirped Canary, walking out with head held high. "If that's all, I'll be at my desk then."
"It's going to be pretty interesting with you around, isn't it, Canary?" said Blue Beat, to himself.
,---(*< ~---,
'---------------'
"I never went back," said Canary. She was sitting in the viewing gallery, the only private place in the entire station, with Berry by her side. "I think she knew I wasn't going to go back, too. She knows everything."
"And that was two years ago?" asked Rebby.
"Yeah. We did cross paths a few more times since then, but usually because of her stupid guards interfering with crime scenes and causing trouble," Canary complained. "She has a thing for me. I have no idea why. I think it's because I play along."
"You're lucky, Sarge," said Rebby, jealous of her clout.
"You think that's lucky?" Canary scoffed, walking towards the door. "Lucky is if the whole damn station doesn't know this story by tomorrow."
Suddenly Canary bucked the door hard, making a loud bang. Someone or something on the other side fell back with a loud 'ow' and then scrambled away.
"You're the only one who knows, Berry," she said. "I'd like to keep it that way, alright?"
"Yeah... yeah, no problem Sarge!" Rebby said enthusiastically. She was really happy just to be part of some sort of secret pact with the great Sergeant Canary.
"And that's it, really. That's all there is between us."
"Sounds fun, Sarge," said Rebby.
"Shut up, Berry," said Canary, non-genuinely.
There was a rap at the window, to which both of them turned to look. On the other side of the mirror stood Quick Silver, who had a rather tell-tale bruise of red on her flank. She jerked a wing toward the direction of the exit.
"Um... sorry on disturbin', Sergeant, but there's a dev'ep'ment," she spoke to the wall.
All three of them met on the outside, where Canary flicked her eyes toward the sore bottom of Silver, who looked quite embarrassed indeed.
"Ah... yeah... um... I ain't... heard nothin'," said Silver. This was probably true; the door to the gallery was quite soundproof. Didn't stop her from trying though.
"Anyway, what's the news?" asked Canary.
"They found the body, Sarge. S'at the skydocks, and I'd get there real quick-like if I'd you," she said in her curious slang. "Crowd's gatherin'."
"Alright, Silver, get the coroner and get him down there A.S.A.P. We'll be going shortly. Take the cart."
"Aye, Sarge," she zoomed out the door.
"Berry, suit up. Get your stupid hat. We've got work to do," said Canary, looking out the doorway.
"And I have a feeling this has only just begun."