The little house on the northern bank of the Maresippi sat silent, the wind that rustled the surrounding trees whistling through the wide circle cut through a second-floor window. A thick layer of dust, a sign of months of disuse, covered the interior of the room, clinging to the collection of game boards, covering the floor.
But etched into the dust was a series of hoofprints, leading down the stairs to the basement, up to a heavy steel door that was sealed shut with a trio of fresh padlocks. Two of them were already open. A single stallion crouched before the door, working in silence as he picked at the final lock beneath the light of his headlamp. A small gem was affixed to the lock, glowing faintly gold. On the ground next to him sat a silver coin embossed with eyes with a string woven through the center; the intricate craftwork stained with fresh blood; even now, it faintly twitched towards the door as if drawn by a magnetic pull.
"There, perfecto!" the brown stallion with the salt and pepper hair declared as the padlock snapped open. Removing the jamming gem, the stallion pulled the door open with a great creaking, casting his flashlight over the treasures within. He lifted the coin on a string to the threshold with a bandaged hoof; it swung into the room as if pulled by a silent rushing wind, then suddenly flashed with a silver light and went still, dangling from the string as the blood dripped onto the floor. An examination of the coin revealed that the eyes carved into it were closed.
The intruder sighed. "A pity that these Wishing Coins are only good for one wish. Ah, well; I won't need wishing anymore," he said, tossing the coin into a corner.
Ignoring the photographs of the detective and his friends tacked up in front of him and the small pots of red and black ink on the floor in front of him, the stallion went straight to the shelves lining the brick walls. He cast a critical eye over the spellbooks, the potion materials, the various artifacts and exotic tools.
"So little care put into any of them, ay," the stallion muttered, briefly holding up a bronze dagger with a set of jewels shaped like a constellation embedded into the blade. "One would think that if el maestro de ajedrez were planning on using these, he would've been more careful to keep them maintained." He shrugged. "Ah, well. I've always enjoyed restoring artifacts."
He looked over the spellbooks one more time and gasped as his gaze fell upon a dark green book. Embossed onto the cover was a dagger stabbing through the sun and moon, a serpent winding around the entire construction.
"The Kyaltratek," he breathed, reverently lifting the book up for study. "After so many years..."
A black shape swooped in and snatched the book from his grasp. The stallion gasped, his head twisting to follow the raven's path as it circled around the small room and returned to the doorway, the book clasped in its claws. The bird dropped the book into the waiting hoof of the pegasus standing at the threshold before landing atop the masked intruder's back with a soft caw. The masked pegasus glared at the thief with crimson eyes that reflected the light from his headlamp.
"Relajate, doctor," the thief scoffed, tugging at his ascot and trying not to look at the distinctive, unusual mask that hung from his partner's belt. "I was going to give it to your master myself."
The red eyes narrowed. The thief scoffed. "Of course you don't trust me," he said. "But have I not delivered as promised?"
The pegasus said nothing. "Come, then," the thief said, opening a Bag of Holding and stuffing every artifact he could reach into the enchanted fabric. "We have more work to do."
"Hey, freak! I'm talking to you!"
Ignoring the catcalls and insults from the veteran inmates, Scarlet strode forward with the same unshakeable calm, dragging her tray along the metal shelf to allow the other inmates of Clovenworth to slap food onto it. As she neared the end of the line, she caught sight of her reflection in the sneeze guard blocking the alleged meals from the inmates' germs.
It wasn't the orange, itchy jumpsuit that disturbed her, nor the silver band locked around her foreleg that disabled her magic, making her horn feel like it was missing; she had to look in the reflection to remind herself it was still there. What made her stomach twist in revulsion was the scars covered her face, turning her countenance into a jigsaw puzzle. The beauty that she had once prided herself on was forever ruined. Scarlet gritted her teeth as she remembered her hooves on her neck, her blows crushing the glass into her face, her voice snarling in her—
Scarlet shook herself out of her reverie. Enough. She had a job to do, and disgraced or not, she had to do it. She would not fail her master again. True, this wasn't quite what they had in mind regarding this long-anticipated meeting, but you had to play with the cards that fate dealt you.
Taking her tray, she turned to face the mess hall of Clovenworth Prison, an enclosed box of thick concrete, lit by a few small windows several yards above all their heads. A dozen steel tables were bolted to the concrete floor, more female inmates in orange jumpsuits huddled over the trays, muttering to one another. Officers in gray uniforms patrolled in between the tables, narrow eyes stabbing daggers into their charges. Two more guards stood watch on a metal balcony running around the circumference of the room, rifles in hoof.
Ignoring the guards, Scarlet strode directly to her targets; a motley collection of mares sitting at the farthest table, backs turned on everypony else. Looking at them, one got the impression that there was some kind of shield that protected them from the other inmates, blocking out everything else.
Scarlet stepped over this intangible barrier of silence and sat down in the only available seat. The mares surrounding her all turned around to glare at her.
"Who the fuck are you?" snarled the largest of the group, a broad-shouldered yellow earth pony.
"Wait, I know you," an aquamarine griffon grunted from Scarlet's left. "Scarlet Letter, isn't it?"
"Enchante, madames," Scarlet smiled, taking a bite of the mashed potatoes. She chewed silently, glancing around at the officers. One officer gave her a suspicious look, but his attention was quickly arrested by an argument rising over at another table, two inmates shouting at each other, questions over rumors quickly turning into fresh insults. Officers quickly began to descend on the mares as the offenders both stood up and started to grapple.
Scarlet smirked. Dear departed Charlie wasn't the only silvertongue. She lowered her head and spoke to her tablemates.
"We have a mutual enemy," she whispered, pointing to her scars. "The mare who gave me this. And the mare who betrayed you all, sent you here."
Every mare around her narrowed their eyes, right forelimbs twitching. Scarlet glanced down at the right claw of the griffon next to her, noticing the brand marked into her claw; the crude shape of a ring of keys.
"I'm here on behalf of my master," Scarlet continued. "Who has a proposal for you all."
The sisters of the Family glanced at each other, ignoring the clamor of the fight behind them. After a few moments, the large yellow mare leaned down.
"We're listening."