The death of Captain Valour of the Solar Guard was not reported in the local newspaper the following day, nor the next, nor the one after that.
In fact, the stallion wasn't mentioned by name at all. While the tragic house fire which claimed the life of an upstanding citizen of society was mentioned, there was nothing about who the unfortunate citizen had been.
The Solar Guard was not mentioned, nor was any sort of investigation. Furthermore, even the burnt house's address wasn't included in the local newspaper when Lemon tracked down a copy. Prey didn't know whether this was because there really was no investigation, or if there was one, but it was being kept secret.
With how they hadn't named Valour, presumably to hide that the Solar Guard had just lost its Captain, either reason could be true. Or neither. To a suspicious and alert reader, the blanketing lack of details might've almost been enough to raise some suspicions, although probably not. It was just a local paper, and it was only read by ponies. Their species as a whole had an aversion to looking deeper into anything which they might not like the truth of.
Don't go looking for something you don't want to find, Prey believed the phrase was.
Prey wasn't surprised there was nothing in the newspapers, though. Valour was, or had been, related to nobility. Triton Fell himself had been Valour's half uncle. If the relatives and family didn't want a mention of his death in the papers, then his name would be kept out all together. They most assuredly wanted to grieve in private.
That, and the Solar Guard didn't want to present even the possibility to the public that they were anything less than super-equine and infallible. And the Solar Guard Captain accidently burning himself to death after carelessly leaving a lit candle in his bedroom definitely clashed with that image.
------
Prey's holiday was over.
He'd spent nearly all three days of it, both day and night, on various trains travelling there and back. But he'd done what he set out to do. The old farm was behind him now, it was crossed off The List, and he never needed to go back if he didn't want to. The side trip to Redwood's sad little museum had been unexpected, and then Luna's sudden dream kidnapping had been both unexpected and unpleasant. And then of course Valour.
Prey felt like a different person, yet the same person. So many important things had happened over those three days. Important didn't mean 'good' though, it just meant important. He'd given Valour a chance Prey told himself, more than one chance, but instead, the arrogant unicorn had attacked him. Valour had used his chance.
But it was all done now, and Prey was back in the mountainside capital city of Equestria.
'Ahh, Canterlot. How I have not missed you. What a disgusting rose water cesspool of privilege and pony supremacy.'
Well, a holiday was supposed to take you to nicer places than where you actually lived. Unfortunately, once a holiday is over, you've got to go back to work.
Prey had arrived back after midnight on the train, exiting onto the platform in the hissing of engine steam, and gone straight back to his flat to sleep. He woke up late in the morning, ate, watered his potplants and tended to Crimson's blood fern, then snuck down through the tunnels to his lair. There, he ineffectively tried to figure out why and how Selenia's pin cushion had done what it did, made some more runes, checked on the wickerwatches growth and the witch curse it was spreading down in the sewers Heart, and by then it was evening and time for him to get right back to work in the Night Guard.
Trotting in through the Guard's entrance into the Lower Palace, head down, Prey straight away took his path to Lieutenant Screech.
The thestral was currently using Nighthawk's office, since that was where all the Captain's paperwork was stored, and Screech was supposed to be covering for Nighthawk. Screech wasn't alone in the office when Prey arrived at the open door. First Lieutenant Swift Arrow of the Royal Guard was in there with him, as Prey stopped outside to listen in, remaining out of sight around the corner.
Prey knew the Screech could only just have started his shift, since Celestia hadn't lowered the sun below the horizon just yet, but already the thestral was sounding harried. Which was kind of understandable, being the only Night Guard Lieutenant currently left in Canterlot and entrusted with the running of the entire Night Guard. Which meant Swift Arrow had wanted to corner Screech first thing for a reason.
"When will Captain Nighthawk be back? It's been over a week, and still nothing." That was Swift Arrow's strident voice.
"The answer hasn't changed since last night. Captain Nighthawk is on a mission." Came Screech's flat reply.
"So when will he be back? Captain Shining Armour keeps asking you, how hard can it be to give a straight answer?"
"Captain Nighthawk is on a mission," Screech repeated, "If Princess Luna wants the Royal Guard to know the details, she will tell you herself, but until then I will not break mission secrecy."
There was the sound of a deeply aggravated snort, "Both Guard forces need both Captains to be able to coordinate effectively, and your Captain's not here. When will he finally be back?"
"That is also part of the mission secrecy. Princess Luna's orders." Screech told the other Lieutenant coolly.
"You said the same thing yesterday, and the day before that." Swift Arrow said, voice flat and accusing.
"That is because nothing has changed since yesterday. Or the day before that." Screech replied, matching Swift Arrow tone for tone.
There was a silence as both Lieutenants no doubt glared down the other. Or at least Prey thought they were, only listening and not actually looking in. Well, Swift Arrow had entered himself into a losing contest there if they really were having a glaring match. Screech had yellow slitted eyes made for glaring, plus, ponies really got the heebie-jeebies around anything 'unnatural'.
Prey was proven right as barely fifteen seconds later Swift Arrow snorted, stamped his hoof, and a last parting shot of; "My Captain wants to know the first thing when something changes."
Swift Arrow wore a fierce scowl on his helmet framed face as he marched past Prey, short cropped tail flicking angrily. '-tell Shining Armour the bat just keeps stalling. What could the ex-Nightmare possibly be having them do now?-'
Then he did a double take as he realised the lamb was even there. Prey offered him a big, but air-headed smile, head and ribbon tilted cutely to the side just so.
The unicorn stared for a second longer, then snorted again; '-whatever, I've work to do-', And marched off.
Prey watched to make sure the unicorn had gone around the corner, before turning back to the office door. He knocked lightly on the wood of the open door to announce himself.
Screech's tufted ears swivelled ahead of his head, "Come in-Oh, Prey, it's you."
Prey saw that Screech looked tired. Although it was a constant state for the understaffed Night Guard, this time Screech looked more tired than usual, "I'm back from my three days leave, sir."
Screech's yellow eyes flickered searchingly over him, "You went to see your family, right?"
"I went back to Rushweed and the family farm, yes."
"Did it go well?"
"No, and yes. Both. I'm glad I went though." Prey answered, while thinking:
'It's none of your damned business either way, so you'd better leave it alone.'
'-first time Prey's seen his family since jail where Princess Luna mercifully enlisted him. That's not an easy reunion, but blood is thicker than mud-'
Screech didn't leave it there however as Prey wanted him to. Despite knowing the ISND, and despite knowing Prey somewhat, as a senior thestral Screech still felt he needed to add a last piece of wisdom for the lamb; "It's good that you went back to them. Duty is not easy, that's why it is a duty, but it's always worth doing right."
Prey smiled, and nodded, and said nothing. It finally seemed to do the trick.
Screech turned back to Nighthawk's stacked desk and began searching over the piles of paperwork, "Well now that you're back, there's a job you're needed for. The rest of those old unsolved closed cases and paperwork can wait. Usually a Guard instructor would be needed, but until their 'mission' is over and the Night Guard command is back..."
Screech found the clipboard he was looking for and pulled it off the desk with a leathery wing, deftly flipping it around so it landed to rest cradled in his wing and facing towards Prey, "Until then, you'll do best Prey."
'-the new recruits from the clans are a massive boon, but nopony among them is experienced enough in the regulations of being Guards instead of warriors to instruct the rest. Needs an experienced hoof, and those are in short supply at the moment-', Screech thought with resigned annoyance, names and already stretched shift rotas running through his head.
Prey gingerly stretched out and took the very edge of the clipboard in between his cleft hoof, careful not to touch or be touched by Screech's wing. Then he sat back on his haunches so he could both hold it and flip to the pages underneath.
Screech didn't start explaining what he wanted Prey to do, the Lieutenant just waited for him to have a read first while he himself got on with making a start on signing a bunch of requisition forms. Screech was always much more of the 'silent but effective' type, than say, someone like the other Lieutenant, Starry Wing.
It was very 'thestral' of Screech, simply hoof over the clipboard and let Prey form his own first impressions on whatever was written. First day back, (or rather, first night), and already Prey didn't like where this was going.
He scanned the top page, eyes flicking side to side. It was a list of forty Night Guard names, broken up into four lots of ten. The names were all new thestrals, Prey knew because he'd read the old Guard rosters, and since these didn't match they must be those who'd flown in with Vivid Edge little more than two weeks ago to oh-so-eagerly sign up and serve Luna.
When he lifted the top page to scan the one underneath, Prey saw that the second sheet held a list of Night Guard procedures from the rule book, specifically the ones which were actually used, as well as some less defined headings. 'Intelligence Work', and 'Undercover Investigating' to name two.
Prey let the top page fall back. Screech saw that he was done reading or had at least picked up the general gist of the task, "Our new thestrals, they need to get up to speed on how things work. The important things which don't come naturally, and the things nopony thinks about until they need them. How to investigate is important, like how you thought to go through all the post office registry history. We're used to caves, not cities."
"I'm just a lamb." Prey pointed out, although the excuse fell flat. Lamb he might physically be, but they both knew lamb on the inside he was not.
"They're thestrals from the clans. They will listen to you seriously." Screech assured him, perhaps even a touch of offense in his gruff tone.
'-he's part of Princess Luna's Guard with all that entails. I thought he would've realised that by now. No, Prey must know by now, so perhaps he just needs reminders at times-'
"It isn't anything to worry over, Prey. You are a Night Guard. They are Night Guards. We all serve Luna in the way that best suits our ability to contribute." Screech told him, confident Prey would pick up on both the mild reproach and encouragement he meant to convey.
'-the ISND has proved to be the best at seeing beneath the beneath. And Prey isn't able to do much else of value by himself until Gloom and Crimson's return-'
"Permission to speak freely? Sir." Prey asked.
"Yes?"
"I don't think this is necessary. Bluntly put, I don't know how to teach people. I just do what I do, spotting patterns in things is just something I'm good at. I just do it. But I don't know how to teach it." Prey said.
He didn't want to have to interact with forty Night Guards, and he certainly didn't want them to interact back with him. It went solidly against his desire to remain as unnoticed as possible in the background. People were aware he existed in the Night Guard, but if he could stay out of sight he could also stay out of mind most of the time.
Screech unhelpfully interpreted that as him just needing a bit more encouraging; "You know yourself best Prey, but I guarantee the skills you have don't come naturally to most ponies. They'll learn it all in the long run by experience, but there isn't really time for that. Nopony's expecting perfect instruction, but even if you can only successfully teach some of it, it's still better than nothing."
Screech was being positive, but this wasn't really a discussion. He thought he was assisting Prey by listening for a few minutes, but at the end of this, he still expected Prey to do it anyways despite what doubts the little lamb may feel. This was still an order, and Prey was still a Night Guard.
'You're not getting it. I just don't want to do it.' Prey thought, reaching up a hoof for his ribbon. Oh well, it would just take two minutes to change Screech's mind and make him forget this notion. Literally.
Prey caught himself, letting go of the smooth silk end of his ribbon in surprise.
Wasn't that a bit extreme? It would be simple thing to take Screech off guard and quickly rearrange his mind, but did he really need to? He couldn't afford to slip into the bad habit of doing this to fix all his problems, or eventually he'd slip up and someone would notice. And hadn't he committed to trying to become a better person? Was this really something important enough for him to invade another's mind over? Prey took a frank look and evaluated it.
'No, it's not. I'm already exposed and more well known than I wanted. After the lumberyard, and Mayflower, everyone in the Night Guard knows who the ISND is. I'd just be delaying the inevitable.' He thought unhappily.
"I'll give it my best effort then." Prey agreed, really meaning that he planned to only put in a slapdash effort.
"Good," Screech nodded, as if there had never been any other possible outcome, "The earlier you start instructing, the better. Later tonight actually. And it won't be a long term job, just until you've gone through everypony on the list."
"Yes sir." Prey hid a sigh of aggravation, brushing his ears back over his shoulder as he began to put together a quick lesson structure in his head. 'Four lots of ten Guards each. I'll need to repeat the lesson three additional times, so at least I'll have the excuse of keeping it short and to the point.'
Prey paused, "Sir, permission to speak freely again?"
Screech stopped in just starting on another pile of acquisition forms, looking up, "Yes?"
Prey looked Screech in his slit eyes, able to meet the yellow orbs unlike the Royal Guard Lieutenant who'd so recently exited; "Are you looking to try and integrate any of these thestrals into the ISND again, like with Lilly and Scenic?"
Screech was taken aback, tufted ears going straight up, '-was that actually what Prey was secretly worried about earlier?-'
"No Prey, absolutely not. No, Captain Nighthawk already made it clear, and after last time, just no." Screech shook his head emphatically:
'-no, hard no. That's not an experiment we're going to repeat any time soon-'
'Okay, good. That means I won't have to be extra unpleasant to them to convince them all not to join.' Prey thought, relieved.
He wasn't sure there was much he could've reasonably done anyway to dissuade thestrals from doing something they saw as their duty. Normal spoilt ponies were much easier, you just had to make them cry and they'd never want to come back. Whereas the thestral idea of a Night Guard initiation ceremony was to beat each other black and blue one-on-one inside a cage.
Prey felt his attention briefly drift over the green glass bottle Screech had placed on the Captain's desk, wedged between three competing stacks of paperwork. Only the top half of the green bottle was visible, but it was still enough to see the slowly flickering glow of the stabilized spell flame.
Nighthawk, all the way in Griffonia, had the twinned message-in-a-bottle. Prey himself had similarly placed his own message bottle on the ISND's own desk so he could see it while he worked.
In the back of his head, Prey still couldn't shake the conviction that something was going to go wrong out there. It wasn't a gut feeling for once, but an intellectual one, yet for that reason he just couldn't get it out of his head.
"Princess Luna is keeping watch over them," Screech spoke, having of course seen where Prey's eyes lingered on the desk. The Lieutenant even smirked tiredly, "Literally. Every night they are reporting to her in the dream realm. They will not fail."
For the second time that night, Prey plastered a fake but very convincing smile onto his face, nodding along, "I'm sure, sir. I'll be going to start this, unless there was anything else...?" Prey trailed off.
"Actually, there is, unfortunately." Screech said before he could leave.
'Oh come on! Now what?'
"Yes, sir?"
Distaste flickered across Screech's features, the tips of his fangs unconsciously showing, "That private detective Strange Hazard-no, Strange Happenstance, has been poking around again. Or we're ninety percent sure it's him. Multiple Night Guards have reported a stallion unicorn confronting them while off duty and trying to ask them questions about the ISND, the lumberyard fire and what happened to Lilly Blossom."
A thrill of unpleasant worry went through Prey, "Why only ninety percent sure?"
"The stallion's height, build, and general appearance are the same, but he's a different colour each time, and always has his cutie marks covered so there's no way to confirm it. We're certain it's magic though, something like one of our Dusk Pony amulets." Screech answered.
Prey remembered that pocket watch device he'd seen Strange use himself to switch his coat colour. He was just about to suggest then they simply catch the stallion and forcibly check, but no, the Night Guard wouldn't do that. Strange Happenstance, and Prey was sure it was him, evidently wasn't actually breaking any laws. He was only confronting off duty Night Guards too, so they had even less legal grounds to suspect him.
Although how a ground bound pony was managing to find opportunities, and regularly too by the sound of it, to confront flying thestrals, (even if non-violently), was alarming in and of itself.
'What's the bet that's actually his special talent?' Prey thought in disgust. Convenient meetings. Coincidences. Strange happenstances. That would just be so like Harmony, hoofing out supernatural talents to ponies who'd never done anything to deserve them, while every other race in the world got nothing.
Literally, ponies as a species did nothing. Just by being born, they were guaranteed that at some point while growing up, a random magically enhanced talent would be presented to them. And then they had the audacity to complain when it wasn't as powerful as the exceptionally privileged few ponies who lucked out. And all that just went doubly so for unicorns.
It struck Prey that these sightings of the private detective might actually be mimics with purposefully sloppy disguises, trying to throw suspicion on Strange Happenstance. No, why would they ever risk possible exposure like that? Or would they? A double bluff? Prey didn't know enough about their goals or methods to rule anything out.
'It's unlikely, but I still don't actually know enough to dismiss the possibility outright.' Prey ground his teeth.
As a matter of fact, he'd only ever seen the one, who'd been masquerading as the Border Guard Shimmer in Mayflower. That mimic who'd tried and failed to get into his damaged lair beneath the mountain didn't count. He hadn't even seen the body, meaning at least one more mimic had retrieved the body and was still lurking around out there somewhere.
Screech was speaking again. Prey had only half been listening and swiftly recalled his attention; "-So keep a careful eye out. It'll be no coincidence if he tries going after you, especially if he's somehow discovered the rest of the ISND are away. If he does, don't answer anything and shout for the Guard."
Prey narrowed his eyes, "He hasn't done anything physical or violent, right? Or else you would've already arrested him."
"Correct," Screech allowed, "But there's only a thin line between 'pushy' and 'violence'. And he might see you as a perfect target to get away with this with."
The Lieutenant couldn't help but look Prey over, his gaze making his unspoken concern clear. Prey was a weak runt lamb, unable to even wear the armour of the Night Guard, while Strange was an adult unicorn. It wasn't about Prey's willingness to defend himself and avoid danger that Screech doubted, he vividly remembered the reports he'd read of the bone rot mines in Mayflower, no it was Prey's immediate physical ability to protect himself he was worried about:
"If you see him or suspect he might be watching you, find one of us immediately. Do not approach or confront him Prey."
"No fear of that. I don't like or trust him, and I'm sure he's up to something. Sir." Prey remembered to add.
"I'm sure too." Screech shrugged his wings. It was a very thestral shrug, successfully conveying 'I know it, you know it, but there's nothing we can do about it'.
'There's plenty you can do about it, but you're just not willing to do because it's against the law.' Prey thought but didn't say. What he said instead was:
"Thank you for the warning sir. I'll be keeping my ear to the ground. I don't have far to go to reach it, after all"
------
"Thank you all for coming," Prey chirped with bright, false cheeriness, "If you could please shut the door-yes, you who's closest-Ah, thank you. I'll get this little lesson started, then."
The ten new thestrals stood at ease in the ISND office, the place decently lit well enough for non-night vision users. The thestrals weren't necessarily young, just new to the Night Guard, wearing the recoloured armour of the Royal Guard. Prey spied ample evidence of hard living as he glanced over the ten winged ponies.
Little knots of scar tissue were common, wiry muscles, dull scuffed hooves, thick fur, one thestral's folded wing was peppered with little holes. The ten stood in a semi-circle with their backs to the shelves, facing the lone desk. Prey was sitting on his haunches on top of the desk. It was the only way he could be at everyone else's eye line height.
The gathered thestrals were the first group of ten that Prey was supposed to try and teach some of the subtler arts of intelligence and paperwork to, all within the hour.
When thestrals did something, they didn't delay or dither or procrastinate. They could be the very definition of patience when that's what the situation called for, but when it called for the opposite, decisiveness could equally be used as a descriptor. And since the Night Guard was now all made up of thestrals, the originally transferred Royal Guards now having been transferred back, Prey knew he was expected to do the same. There was no point putting off this work for another day. Or rather another night.
Prey hid the grimace he was feeling in favour of maintaining his cheery, carefree mask as he looked the ten over, "Oh, just to check, but Lieutenant Screech did say what you were coming here tonight for, right?"
Although just because he had to do something, didn't mean he had to be his true self while doing it.
Back at the beginning, when he'd first been pressganged by Luna, Prey had started his act of the 'little harmless lamb' around those he didn't actually have to work with on a day-to-day basis. Sure, by now the act was mostly redundant, and everyone of importance he actually had to interact with knew better, but it still helped muddy the waters for everyone else.
Half would know he was Prey of the ISND, and the other half would just think he was the lamb being looked after by the ISND.
And Prey was hoping that none of these new thestrals were going to become people he had to work closely with in the future. Or if he did, that Gloom and Crimson would be back by then and he could leave all the talking to them while he slipped into the background.
Prey's aim was to not make any of this more personal than it needed to be, and hopefully the forty odd thestrals he was supposed to teach something to wouldn't really think about him again as anything more than a bit weird, but mostly harmless, runt lamb.
Well he already had the weird part down, because as he stood there on top of the desk, he could hear so from just a few of their thoughts. A smattering even got his gender right first time:
'-is he all there mentally? That's not how everypony else has reacted to me. But this is the right room, so...-'
'-don't think a lamb should be in Her Majesties Guard. Foals do not fight, unless this is the lesson? That the Guard doesn't all fight?-'
'-so he really is our instructor tonight. I knew it couldn't be a poor jest, but still-'
'-think I saw her that first night on the court yard, right at the back behind Princess Luna and everypony else-'
"Okay!" Prey rapped his hoof loudly on the desk to signal a start, "Lieutenant Screech has asked me to share some insights into how Night Guard work is different from Royal Guard work, and also from being a clan warrior."
Ah, him even mentioning the thestral clans when he was an outsider made them stand up straighter and pay close attention. Okay, maybe he should be a bit more cautious, since there were still a lot of secrets around the clans he wasn't supposed to know. These thestrals weren't the old Night Guard, who all knew that he knew more than he should know, mainly because they kept letting things slip.
Prey swiftly re-evaluated and changed the phrases he was going to use, "The biggest difference you're going to notice here, working as a Night Guard in Canterlot, is paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. See all these stacks on the desk?"
Prey gestured around where he stood on the surface of the desk to the scrolls and files, "All of this? This is something you're going to have to fight against on a regular basis. You completed a patrol and saw something suspicious? Form 15A. You completed a patrol and nothing whatsoever happened? Form 12C. You worked late one night, which by the way is every night? Fill in form F2.1, get it signed by your immediate superior, and submit it to payroll, and on and on it goes. My point is, every single thing in Canterlot runs on paperwork. And the catch is, if you don't do the paperwork, then everything about your job just gets that much harder."
Prey beamed as all their faces subtly dropped, "Paperwork is your number one enemy, short of a homicidal unicorn. At least an hour every shift where you could be doing actual work, you'll have to sacrifice to the demands of paperwork. And if you don't do it on time, then the records department, the liaison's office, and the Quartermaster's storehouse are all going to go out of their way to make your life difficult. From their point of view, since we're all the greenies on the scene, we have to conform to their way of doing things, since obviously it's the best way, because it's what they've always been doing."
Prey's cheery pronouncement of cynicism was throwing them all off.
'-from what I've seen, that's unfortunately true so far-'
'-we're supposed to be here to serve Princess Luna, not write reports which'll never be read-'
'-that can't be right. If paperwork was completely redundant, somepony would've protested by now-'
One of the thestrals politely tapped his hoof on the floor signalling he wanted to speak. Prey pretended not to notice.
"So what you're going to want to do is obviously keep working and serving Princess Luna as much as possible instead of wasting that same time doing paperwork, what I'm here to teach you tonight are the tricks for how to minimize and put off paperwork for as long as possible."
The same thestral, the one with the raggedy wing membrane, thinking Prey hadn't heard him, tapped on the floorboards again.
Again, Prey ignored him, "Since paperwork is inevitable, what you want to do is minimize it. You're going to have to do it, but you have up to twenty-four hours after a patrol to fill in the correct paperwork. So only do it once every two days. For that day, and the day before, and submit them both at the same time. Share and match submissions too, have one person take all of the squads paperwork at once. For truly pointless reports, you can get away every one-in-ten times saying the paperwork got lost. Keep a stack of all the most commonly used forms in the Guard barracks so you don't have to waste time getting fresh copies each time-"
For the third time, the stallion tapped his hoof, the others around him wondering why Prey hadn't noticed his polite thestral request to speak yet.
Prey snapped a hoof out to point at the thestral, who looked to be in his thirties, "There, that right there. What are you doing?"
They all blinked at Prey, tufted ears cocking. The stared. Wasn't it obvious? And then it clicked.
'-is a lamb, not a thestral. It isn't obvious to other ponies-'
'-Luna's mane, nopony in this city would know what I meant either!-'
'-this isn't the Clans. All the social cues are totally different here-'
"That's exactly right!" Prey announced, smiling like he really meant it, "Everyone else here are Canterlotians. There's tens of thousands of them in this city, not even counting Cloudsdale which is never far away, and less than two hundred thestrals. Things here aren't what you remember. Look and think twice about everything. Don't assume, or rather, assume you're missing something. And that's the second thing I'm supposed to teach you, but more on that later. What did you want to say, Dawn Light?"
The thestral was momentarily surprised that Prey knew his name, "I wish to ask... actually, pardon me, but what is your name?"
'-he didn't already say, did he? I thought I was paying close attention, but I might've missed it-'
No, the thestrals hadn't missed it. Prey hadn't introduced himself as an added tactic to hopefully minimize his impression in their memories in what ever small way he could. But never mind, it was not to be.
"My name is Prey."
'-Prey. As in, hunting prey. That is not a good name-'
'-I do not know sheep naming conventions, but still...-'
'-surely his parents did not honestly name him such?-'
"What did you want to ask, Dawn Light?" Prey repeated.
"Thank you. I wanted to ask, ah, how do we know which forms to use? There are so many. Hundreds. How do we know what to use?" Dawn Light asked glancing around at all the shelves filled with files and reports, frustration working its way into his voice at the steadily creeping feeling of being overwhelmed.
'-I am a warrior. I'm not even a fast reader. But he's saying there's going to be never ending paperwork to complete-'
"Trial, error, and bitter experience." Prey beamed happily. Then after a moment took pity, "Oh, and there's an index list of all the forms, with a description of what each one's for. Unofficially, you'll only ever need a tenth of those forms. See that pile by the door? Yes, those, that's the index list. Take one each and pass them around. Now see the ones on the list with little stars next to them? Those are the tenth part. You'll remember this all eventually, but the point of this whole session is that 'eventually' is too long. So keep your cheat sheets to hoof and your life will be much easier."
Prey listed out some of the more commonly required everyday forms as the pages were passed around, most of them looking at the long list filled with small print in resigned dismay. And these were just the forms they'd actually end up using, he'd already trimmed the list down loads! Prey could practically feel the sentiment going around the room; 'Become a Night Guard they said. Perform a vital service for your Princess they said. It'll be fun they said.'
"So that's the help I was to give you on the paperwork front. Now, onto a much more nebulous and unmeasurable advice I'm supposed to give you all. How to be 'good' at investigating as a Night Guard." Prey said.
He paused, brushing back his ribbon as he took a moment to think how best to put this; "Think of Canterlot as a different environment. You come from out in the wilds somewhere, close to the border probably, but no ones actually told me where your guys clan caves are, but it's obviously not local."
There was a wash of subtle relief that went around the thestral audience. Prey was even telling the truth. No one had told him, he could just read minds.
"Think of it this way; you come from out there, from the wilds. Whenever you first venture into a new, uncharted environment, you're completely out of your depth. There's different plants, different animals, winds, foods, terrain, and dangers. A plant may look similar to one that's edible back home, but you don't actually know if its safe or poisonous because it's different. Treat Canterlot as a completely new environment, an urban terrain." Prey pointed a hoof down at the floor.
"The same principle is true here. Don't think you know what's going on in Canterlot just because you think you can draw the connection. Social interactions and norms, unspoken rules and expectations, the devil's in the details. Okay, half the time, your job is still going to be obvious and straight forwards. Just do the right thing. But it's the other half that you might miss and never even realise as you walk on by. Think twice and check thrice is going to be your motto until you're an old hoof at this."
The thestrals were listening closely, of course they were, but Prey didn't think they were quite getting it. Ten pairs of luminous yellow eyes were focused on him standing on the desk, but they weren't giving any facial clues. They still weren't getting it. He'd just flat out told them to think twice about all social interactions and conversations from here on out, but they hadn't taken the hint. If they didn't quite understand, then they needed to ask, not keep quiet because they assumed since no one else was commenting on whatever it was, that it couldn't be important.
'They're still not getting it, even with an example staring them in the face.'
Without saying anything further, Prey plonked himself down on the desk and sorted through one of the paper stacks until he found a blank sheet. The thestrals patiently waited. Prey methodically began folding the paper, first in half, then adding crease lings and angled folds. Soon, he had a completed paper glider, looking rather large in his cloven hooves. Yellow slit eyes blinked at him, but still they waited.
Prey causally aimed the paper glider at the closest thestral, very obviously lining up his shot before tossing it. It swooped off target, did a loop and dived into the floor just short with a small *dunk*.
Prey fished around in another paper pile to his left until he found another spare page and set about folding it again. Prey was halfway through completing his second paper glider before a thestral mare with white ear tufts instead of the usual dark colouring finally asked:
"What is the purpose of doing that?"
Prey stopped and blinked at her as if he honestly hadn't noticed what his hooves was doing, "Oh? Oh that's a great question. Why am I doing this?"
He waited, blinking innocent blue eyes around at them one by one. But no simple sweet child would've been able to meet all those yellow eyes in fanged heads staring at them. Finally, it clicked.
'-what he just said-'
'-if I think something's off-'
'-and I don't understand why-'
'-then I am supposed to ask-'
"You're doing that because you want us to ask because it's strange and we don't know why you're doing it." The stallion realised.
"Exactly. If you feel something might be wrong, even if you don't know what it is or why, treat it as if it is wrong until you can double check with someone trustworthy who knows about how Canterlot works. This is the capital city of Equestria. Who here knows what it was called way back in the day before it was Canterlot?"
"The New Unicornia." The answer came from more than one mouth.
"That's right again. The New Unicornia, meaning unicorns. And what do unicorns have? Magic. What do all thestrals, as a society, not have? Unicorn magic, and other things, but in this case I'm talking about magic. You don't have any experience with magic, about how it is interwoven into the everyday lives of almost every single pony in this city. Their hot water is a result of magic, the trains are part magic, the printing presses which make the newspapers heavily integrate magic, magical crystal lights, magic to take photos, magical preservation fields for food, postal sorting systems, clockwork, sewing, repairs, trinkets, children's toys, and so much more. It all uses magic. So here's the third thing you need to know." Prey cleared his throat:
"With magic, its easy to get away with crime. Not even counting the obviously duplicit spells, like disguising yourself with illusions, making fake gold, and opening locks, there are nearly limitless illegal applications for the most simple and innocent spells. I will now talk about the most common one, and one that every unicorn can use. Telekinesis. With it, any unicorn could levitate stolen items out the gap in a window without ever entering."
He took a breath, "They can sneak actions past you, make a distraction, anything and everything all without appearing to have moved a hoof to the observers. You need to be aware of magic, and you need to be aware you don't know magic. So when you don't know, again, ask a senior Night Guard who's been in Canterlot long enough to have some idea, but even then be aware they don't know magic either."
Prey took another breath, and repeated himself, "They don't know magic either. They have a better idea and more experience, but they still don't know magic in-depth. So think twice, check thrice."
He looked pointedly around at them all, "So, what haven't you double checked? While having this entire lecture, you've been overlooking something the entire time."
This time they were all much quicker on the uptake, but really, if they'd just had a bit more healthy paranoia, they would've spotted it already. Some of them swiftly scanned the office, checking the shadowy alcoves for something which was out of place. Some looked up, one ducked to check under the desk, and one thought to check the list of forms Prey had distributed with her neighbour.
"The lists. They're different." She stated.
Everyone stopped and looked at their given lists, and then checked their neighbours list. And just like she'd said, they didn't all match up.
'-wait, so was this the real test? Or just a second test?-'
Prey nodded, "Everything I said about the requirements of paperwork still holds true, but yes, not all those sheets are the same. There's one or two red herrings mixed in there with the rest. Those who got them, please put them back in the pile and take a proper cheat-sheet this time."
"But you listed all those forms out loud," One of them spoke up, frowning, "What you said matched up with both sheets-Oh, no, wait. You just spoke ones which matched on all the sheets, not the ones which didn't." He realised.
"Correct again, and you just took my word for it. Why? Because you didn't think I had any reason to deceive you because I had nothing to gain. That's exactly the type of thinking you need to get rid of. Just because you can't see why someone would do something, doesn't mean they don't. Don't measure your potato bushel by someone else's wheat sheaf. And here in Canterlot, everyone out there has a very different view point to you. You come from a completely different background and way of life, so don't go measuring your barely sheaf by a potato bushel."
"So think," Prey tapped the side of his head, "Think, and then think again. Try and look at it from someone else's point of view. What are you missing? Is it something obvious that you can work out? If not, who can you ask? There's no way to cover all the possibilities you might run or fly into as a Guard, there'll always be some variation no one else has seen before but that is in front of you now. So think twice about everything."
So the ten new thestrals did just that, and Prey listened;
'-these are all good points. I must stay aware of all this as a Night Guard-'
'-I'm not sure how I'm going to do all of that correctly, but at least now I have some idea of what I don't know-'
'-asked Rift Wing at dinner about the ISND. He only said they were good at their job. I think I see why now-'
But there was still the one passing thought Prey caught in the back of their heads in one form or another. For some, it really was just a passing thought, the ones which everyone has but don't actually mean. In others, it was just a little bit of uncomfortableness, just mild, without anything solid behind it. Like fog, it would part if the owner turned to actually focus on it, but only if they thought to confront it. Prey still heard their thoughts though, like he heard everything that everyone thought was private, and he judged them just like he did everybody else.
'-blue ribbon is ridiculous. Looks like one of the pampered fillies here the parents play dress up on-', Thestrals did not believe in molly-coddling.
'-Rift Wing also said not to copy all of the ISND's habits-', Mayflower had still been a disaster, even if it wasn't his fault.
'-this lambs got a precocious attitude, even if she has a point-', And Prey was still physically a runt lamb. While age wasn't an indication of ability with thestrals, there was a lower age limit they were subconsciously prepared to accept as reasonable.
Prey was used to it. He heard it all the time, and people thought things they didn't mean all the time. Sometimes they even caught themselves thinking it and corrected those same thoughts. It was nothing new.
But sometimes, although Prey's mind reading runes gave him safety and insurance he craved, he still longed for the controlled quiet walls of Crimson's head. Although Prey could admit to himself that was only because it was Crimson, and he knew he could trust Crimson. Anyone else with that ability such as, say, Strange Happenstance for example, and he'd immediately start making contingency plans to dispose of them if necessary. But he hadn't forgot the headaches being in a crowd gave him. Or how badly it had stretched his self-identity when first he'd recklessly inflicted these runes upon himself. But it was do or die in war.
Prey brought his thoughts to an abrupt end and sharply clapped his forehooves together, "Well, that about sums up the instruction I have to give you. Paperwork is a massive drag but must be done because it's the rules, and to treat everything new in Canterlot as an unknown and you won't do too badly when conducting any investigation."
He smiled warmly and pointed towards the office door, "Thank you all for coming, and I wish you the best of luck. Kindly tell Sargent Major Sharp Tang on your return that he can send in the next group, thanks."
'Kindly get out all of you annoyances.' Is of course what Prey really meant.
He still needed to get through this same presentation with another three groups of newer thestral recruits, after all.
------
Prey had just finished up his song and dance act for the fourth and last time, and his thestral audience were just filing out the door, when the Sargent Major stuck his head in.
'Ah but of course. Of course it couldn't end there could it? The show's not over until the fat lady sings.' Prey thought in aggravation.
Although Sharp Tang was more 'big' rather than 'fat', and nor was he a lady. Prey also had his doubts that the stallion sang. "How may I help you sir?"
Sharp Tang glared around the office, although that was more just a byproduct of his face. His frowning brows and yellow slit eyes gave him the appearance of perpetually glaring all the time. His grumpy attitude though? That was all on the Sargent Major's own choice.
"You're done?" Sharp Tang demanded, referring to the last group who had just left.
"Yes, sir. That was the fourth and last group." Prey said, not adding; 'You're the one who was supposed to be rotating those groups, weren't you paying attention yourself?'
Whatever the Sargent was here for, Prey bet it was going to be another headache for him. He'd been going to go back to the never ending drudgery he'd been informing the thestral greenies about, which was the paperwork of reviewing yet more inactive cases which the ISND shelves were full of. Perhaps do more ground work for trying to uncover some more spies, although this time he intended to be a bit more circumspect in what he 'discovered'. After all, Gloom and Crimson were still stuck in Griffonia after his last discovery about the secret gem market surveillance.
Luna's ridiculous plan for a smash and grab of Hafflow was now well and truly completely derailed, while he was left stuck back here in Canterlot, on edge just waiting for the almost inevitable bad news.
Sharp Tang stepped in through the door, trotting towards the desk where Prey was still sitting on top of, which he also didn't comment on like a normal average pony would've. Prey frowned, sitting up straighter. If Sharp Tang was coming in, whatever he had to say wasn't a drop off message but something more serious. 'Oh wonderful.'
'-the lamb shouldn't be in here working alone. Should be where somepony can keep a close watch on him since Gloom isn't around to do it-'
So was Sharp Tang just here to try and make Prey move to another room, one with other Night Guards in it? No thanks, this room was filled with runic arrays, (adding a rune here and there really added up over the weeks and months), and was consequently the safest place in the Palace for him. He'd gotten to sit here on the desk while facing down all those new thestrals, safe and comfortable in the knowledge he could stun them all with a flick of his hoof. No way was he moving offices.
The large stallion snorted softly to himself as he came to a stop in front of the desk. Sitting on top of the woodwork, Prey was better able to look people in the eyes, but Sharp Tang was still a full head above him, not even counting the helmet and indigo plume.
Prey politely tilted his head, ear dangling on that side, waiting for the Sargent Major to speak first. Then he'd go about correcting the thestrals assumption that he'd be moving offices-Wait.
'-Screech didn't say when Gloom and the Captain would be back though. This message's probably related to that-', Oh. So caring about Prey's mental wellbeing wasn't what Sharp Tang was here for after all.
"Lieutenant Screech told me to deliver this. He said it only came in tonight to him personally, less than an hour ago." Sharp Tang opened a wing, scooping up a folded note as it dropped and flicking it onto the desk right at Prey's hooves.
"Thank you." Prey said automatically, picking up the note and then remembering to add on the end; "Sir."
Sharp Tang was already turning around and leaving though, not here to take back a reply and his task done. Prey hastily unfolded the note and held it up to the light.
It was in the blocky scrawl of the Lieutenant's own hoof. That prickling feeling on the back of Prey's head was back, except now it was a gut feeling too.
What could've occurred between when Prey had seen the Lieutenant in person at the start of his shift and now, less than six hours later? Many things, few of them good if Screech thought he, Prey, only just back from his three days off and working alone here in this office, needed to be made aware.
Prey read; "Taken by Her Highness into shared dream again. Updates and new info were exchanged. Still no in on arresting the target and getting them out of the compound without being stopped. Progress into tracking down those private gem miners hired by their government. Team has scheduled to meet one of the miners next day."
That was the first short paragraph, a detatched summary made in as few words as possible. It was the second paragraph that Prey's eyes skipped down to. The first had just been information, but this second section Screech had addressed to him specifically, the ink of the letters thicker and darker, as Screech took longer to think about what words he wanted to come off his quill:
"Prey. Over the course of the discussion with our two undercover teams, I regret that it falls to me to inform you that Crimson has taken sick. Sargent Gloom has said it seems like it might be serious. The griffin doctor he brought in almost panicked for a moment when it looked like the beginnings of the Blood Feather plague, but he said it only is contagious to griffins. Thanks be to Luna it isn't that, but whatever afflicts Crimson, it isn't something he can just fly off. I don't tell you this to worry you Prey, but you should know. Luna will watch over them."
There was a moment where Prey felt stillness, a deep inner pause, like when you bark your shin on a brick step.
You see it happen, you feel it happen, but before the pain arrives at your brain, you have that one moment's grace to brace yourself. There's no getting out of the coming pain, you've already hurt yourself, there's nothing left to do but grit your teeth and mentally prepare to receive it.
This was like that. Prey's mind rushed to provide himself with calming reassurance, to get in first before his feelings arrived:
'I already knew something bad was going to happen, this is just that happening. And it's not the real Blood Feather plague, he even said so. Crimson has the electrite feather, so he'll be fine. I'm stuck here, so there's nothing I could've done and worrying won't change that.'
Garrow's remnant jerked awake, raising it's cruel, beaked head, 'Blood Feather plague. Nazty nasty businez', yez'? No blood, no strength, gone all pale and white. First you can't get up. Then you can't breathe. Then you die.' Garrow's father had died to the plague.
The note in his hooves ripped. A shaking was rising up his spine, building in anger at the helplessness of it all.
'I knew, I knew! I knew this would happen!'
-------
Death is a prophecy all of its own. And one that is always right.
------
'It'll be fine.' Prey told himself as he stood under the natural stone ceiling of his lair, down in the mountain.
'Really. It's not like it's actually the Blood feather plague, that's restricted to griffins only, it simply resembles it. Plus, Gloom and Nighthawk aren't about to abandon him when they leave. Crimson's just sick. Everyone gets seriously sick at two or three points in their life, it's inevitable. It's almost certainly just a local bug that Crimson's had a particularly bad reaction to. His immune system will be all the better for it once he recovers.'
Beneath the wooden board he was standing on the broken gravel, mixed with milky chips of shattered crystal, crunched faintly as Prey turned to reach for his box of tools. It crunched again as he turned back, having gotten the wedge of metal he'd already prepared with runes and a pair of pliers.
In fact, the cavern's new floor crunched and shifted every time you stepped anywhere on the walkway of laid out boards.
Prey turned back to the low, makeshift table he'd set up. On top of it, the dead body of an old unicorn stallion lay on his back, chest and belly split open like a pig's carcass. It gaped hollowly. The cadaver's fur was thinning, his eyes were closed, most of his mane had either fallen out long before death or had been cut off. The unicorn's horn he had sawn off though, just a bone stump now remaining.
For being a dead body, it was remarkably clean, with only a few smears of blood where Prey had cut the chest and belly open.
This was one of the bodies Prey had stolen from the city morgue. People really were like any other animal when you cut them open. The exposed ribs, the red flesh of the hollowed out body cavity, it looked exactly like the cleaned kill of any hunter. Lungs, spleen, kidneys, liver, all the organs looked exactly like any animals organs. Pigs especially. The slight scent of cloying iron which always came from being near cut meat was the same too. Prey could confidently make all those observations from experience.
But for all that it still wasn't the same as an animals. It was much the same, right up until the point where you knew they weren't pig organs, and that the carcass was a person, and then it all became different.
Once you knew, once you spotted the difference, it all became completely different. When your hooves were in someone's insides, the cold, clammy, slightly slimy feeling of the raw flesh touching your leg as you bumped the wound's open side? That feeling was one which could have you vomiting explosively at the literal second of realisation. You did not want to vomit inside the body you'd just scooped out.
Prey was used to it. He'd done all of this long before, multiple times under Snake's iron hoof. It was... Not routine, because a part of this could never ever become casual, it was still a dead person, but it was almost routine. He was used to it.
'Crimson'll get better, even if Gloom needs to stay behind, the second squad will bring back Hallfow once they finally manage to grab him, which should be enough to keep Luna satisfied. She was already impatient before they even arrived.'
A shiver of disgust went up his spine at that.
Prey could all too easily see Luna simply giving orders to toss Crimson aside and leave him behind in Griffonstone, so long as she got what she wanted. Prey remembered how she'd done just that, letting Lord Vanish steal the jade necklace from Crimson, simply because she was amusing herself by playing some court game. Prey could think of no other explanation for why else she would've sided with the arrogant noble.
Luna was an immortal alicorn. There was nothing anyone in the world could do, except her Sun Wolf sister, to force her into doing anything.
'But if they split up the two squads up, it'll be fine. Crimson will be fine.' Prey mentally repeated.
*Crunch* softly went the chips and gravel as he leaned over the cut open chest cavity for a better angle. Both of his ears were pulled back behind his head and bundled together with his ribbon, because he really didn't want them trailing into his work.
He ignored the smell, and took the piece of rune inscribed metal and shoved it into place on the exposed spine, sticking the sharp wedge end between the lumbar vertebra, right where there was that small opening where the shoulder blades began. He needed a pair of pliers, but he managed to squeeze open a gap in the bones to slot the metal into position. When he let go with the pliers, the vertebra pinched back shut, holding the metal wedge in place.
Prey waited, and when it didn't pop back out, he grunted to himself and withdrew. His hooves and forelegs felt disgusting, even though there was next to nothing to visibly see on them, but he knew what he'd been touching. The gold of the tracer bands dully gleamed, as clean as ever. He wasn't done rooting around in there yet, so no scouring his hooves clean just yet, however.
Set next to the low table was a basin filled with dark water and something which looked like slimy entrails for a moment in the lantern light, but no, it was actually rubbery cut-offs from his wickerwatch. Almost roughly, when compared to his earlier care in placing in the runic wedge, Prey began scooping out hooffuls of the cold slimy fronds and dumping them into the open body cavity. In they went, slop after slop of the cold, wet, slimy things.
Once Prey was done here, and he'd stitched up the corpse and placed the last remaining runes, he'd have Lemon Pink cart it off down to the Sewer's Heart, and there let it incubate beneath the rippling water.
This was the third body he'd prepared tonight. The city morgue was little more than a revolving door to him. As vile and reprehensible as mind magic was, it was nothing if not useful.
'It doesn't help me with Crimson. He's currently trapped in Griffonstone because of a stupid bid to relive her glory days by Luna.'
He started rinsing his forelegs in the half empty basin. It was just water with left over residue from waterweed in it. No different from pond water really, so while not clean, it was still much better than having 'dead body' on his hooves. He wasn't thinking about that though, in fact he hardly even noticed.
'What could Crimson be sick with? If it's not the Blood Feather plague, what could it be? The symptoms are pale flesh, anaemic, shortness of breath, almost no strength, chronic tiredness, no appetite, and eventually transitioning into inability to even drink fluids right at the end. In short, a wasting sickness.'
So while Crimson didn't have the actual plague, most of those symptoms must still be present for the griffin doctor to have momentarily panicked. Prey knew a long list of diseases and illnesses, some learnt under Snake's tutelage, and some learnt from Snake directly. The problem with diagnosing anything was there were just so many things you could overlook, with many other possible sicknesses it could actually be. Sometimes a patient didn't have all the symptoms, or sometimes they had conflicting symptoms.
Prey chewed the inside of his cheek in worry while trying to console himself, 'I gave him the electrite feather though, that'll help a little bit. Most of it's benefits are passive and just improve the users own abilities a bit by absorbing ambient magic and redistributing it to the wearer. So that'll help some.'
Prey went and got a long needle and stiff thread, (something he always had plenty of to hoof down here), and got to work sewing up the now bulging corpse over it's new set of intestines. As he held up the large needle to the lantern to thread the eye, his attention couldn't help but flick briefly over to the lone pedestal like formation of crystal, a series of long planks the only linking connection between it and the rest of the walkway over the sharp gravel.
The crystal had once been a truly impressive specimen, one of the biggest crystals in the cavern. Now it was little more than a stump, much like a tree stump, but a broken stump nonetheless. That was what the explosion had reduced it to when it scoured the cavern nearly bare.
But it was what rested inconspicuously atop the hard milky rock that was important.
Selenia's pin cushion, the little sewn rag bundle no bigger than an apple sat there in the middle of the shattered stump. Prey had placed it out there on purpose. It wasn't visible to the naked eye, but the pincushion actually sat in the middle of a complicated runic array, both to monitor, and contain it.
"No more stealing pins or needles for you." He muttered. It didn't respond. Which was definitely a very good thing.
Down here in the cavern it was quiet, except for the subtle crunching and shifting of gravel under the walkways whenever he moved. Well, that, and if you listened really closely and at the right intervals, the tiny *plop* of water drops falling from the ceiling into the sinkhole one by one. Prey didn't consider washing his hooves in the freezing water or incubating the corpse in there for even a moment. He didn't trust the sinkhole. He still hadn't discovered if it had a bottom or not.
The mimics had been quiet too.
The two tunnel entrances into the lair coming up from somewhere down in the mountain were both blocked, packed full of rubble, but that physical barrier wasn't what was really keeping the lair safe. Rather, it was all the runes which weren't physically present, or visible. But the mimics knew it too.
Even if those thieving unicorns from the Brotherhoof of Sol had still been alive, and had tried to storm his lair with all their artifacts right now, Prey was fairly confident they'd have failed. Prey had only abandoned his lair the first time because he hadn't had the necessary time to finish his very lengthy and complicated runic defences. But now he had, and he had. Short of an alicorn, Prey was ninety-nine percent certain no one was getting in here.
Anti-magic, null inertia, air, light, vibration, and temperature filters, memory erasing arrays, physical reinforcement, reflection and refraction, energy bleed and radiation, spell matrix disruption, anti-counter magic, backup arrays and self contained systems, closed runic arrays which could only be affected from within the cavern, anti-scry, additional scanning spell disruption to go with the crystals, and basically everything Prey could think of.
In fact, even if someone were to stand at the very entrance into his lair, they wouldn't be able to see anything, since it was covered under an illusion of rock. Even getting close enough to see the illusion would be a feat in and of itself, because approaching would trigger subtle mental suggestions to turn back, increasing in strength as you got closer.
Even inanimate objects, like say, a rolling stone, couldn't enter the cavern if it wasn't brought in by Prey or Lemon Pink. That was the only weakness Prey could see; entering and exiting of his lair. That was where an enemy would have to try to attack, when either of them were entering or exiting. Because once he or Lemon were safely inside the lair, they may as well have stepped out of the world. Mount Canter could collapse, and this cavern would still be left, like an unbreakable seedpod amid the mountain's rubble.
So consequently of all this, Prey felt no fear of the mimics as he stood and did his grisly work in here. There was no place safer in the whole world for him than right here. He also had a sensor array extending down the pathway out into the sewers, so he should also even have some idea if anyone was lying in wait for him. That, and if they came down through the sewers, they'd have to survive the paranoia hex the wickerwatch was constantly spreading.
Prey was just distracting himself again, thinking about the certainties he had, instead of the poisonous uncertainty over what was happening in Griffonia with Crimson.
'I knew it was going to happen before they even got on the train, I knew something would have to go wrong. I knew it, but they didn't listen. 'Oh, let's leave Prey behind because Luna said so' and now I'm stuck back here unable to help. Why? Why didn't they listen? Haven't I always been proved right? Haven't I always known when something was going to go wrong? So why in the name of all that is unholy did they follow Luna's retarded plan?!'
In a fit of pique, Prey bent and snatched up a stone in his cleft hoof and hurled it at the cavern wall. It fell dissatisfying short with with a pathetic little *dock*. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, trying to calm down.
'But what can I do about any of it? Nobody can say no to Luna if she refuses to be swayed, she's an alicorn. She joint rules this whole country. And it's not as if I could've prevented Crimson getting sick even if I was there. I might've been able to help, but I can't outright prevent a sickness just like that.'
Prey paused, head cocking to the side, eyes still closed as he thought that over again. 'Is there really nothing I can do? Or can I?'
He thought over Crimson's symptoms again. 'A wasting sickness...'
Obviously it wasn't the Blood Feather plague, but what if it wasn't exactly a sickness either? Prey's mind flashed over all the cures, treatments, and remedies he'd obtained from Snake, and the extra few he'd discovered himself after the voodoo witch's long overdue death. Also he knew it wasn't the thestrals blood requirements, which Crimson had unfortunately inherited despite his lack of bat wings, fangs, and slit eyes. Although similar, there was no chance it was that. Crimson and all the others well knew how to manage themselves and prevent blood starvation.
'The list of potential diagnosis is still long, but if I start eliminating the causes I don't think it could reasonably be, then all that's left is one cause I might be able to do something about.'
He could still be wrong. In fact he could be way out, and Crimson's sickness really could be some obscure and highly unlikely sickness, but that was the risk. You couldn't ever be a hundred percent sure when making a diagnosis, and there wasn't room for mistakes or second tries. The body wasn't some puzzle where you could try fitting the pieces together, and then simply start again if you got it wrong. It could be, quite literally, life and death. It was terrifyingly easy to make things worse if you made a mistake.
Prey recalled what he knew of Crimson, his diet, his habits, and his secrets, and nodded once to himself.
'I can mix up a medicine, or rather cook it, I know how, and it won't cause Crimson any harm to ingest even if I'm wrong. But how to get it out to Griffonia quickly-? A courier, express delivery. Hm, that'll still take two days to arrive but-Wait, what about those teleportation vaults? Do they have one set up in Griffin Stone from here?'
A teleportation vault was used to send items over long distances to it's twin, after enough magic was pumped into it. Teleportation for a living being at those distances was basically all but impossible, not least because of all the leylines and bedrock criss-crossing the way, but because of the enchantments on the vault, the fixed destination, and magical relay points along the path, it was possible for small items. Usually this method was reserved for highly important messages, but if you had a lot of money, and Prey meant a lot, you could hire a slot to send an item yourself.
'But no, that would garner too much attention, there would also be records kept, and not just anybody can walk in. Although I could have Lemon Pink send it, disguised as some noble or something.'
Lemon was on her lunch break, taking the two hours of free time Prey had granted her each day to go eat her lunch in the park with her coltfriend. Prey didn't know what Lemon Pink saw in Randy, he really didn't. The earth pony was a normal, boring, and slightly shy pony with no real goals, ambition, or ability. While every single person is unique and different with their own story, that didn't change the fact that Randy was still completely average. Maybe that's precisely why Lemon seemed so fascinated with the stallion, or fascinated for her at least.
'Or maybe it's because she's just emotionally stunted and latching onto the first person she's come across. No, ignore that, Lemon's choice of that pony aren't relevant: Sending a package to Crimson and which method to use?'
Courier or teleportation vault? That is, assuming the second was even an option. Griffonia didn't naturally have any unicorns of their own, just immigrants or employees. A courier would be slower, and Crimson was sick right now, but sending it by teleportation was flashy and attention grabbing, and sure to trip some flags.
And Crimson was undercover at the moment.
'But Crimson's sick right now, waiting two extra days for it to arrive...' Prey tugged at the end of his ribbon.
'No. He's undercover. For his sake, drawing attention would be bad, and if I blew their mission after how worked up Luna's gotten over it...'
With great reluctance, Prey realised there was little choice but to use a courier. He'd send the courier to the address of where Gloom was currently keeping the bed bound Crimson along with the fake names they were using. While a long distance courier was still a special delivery, there must still be ten or twenty of them arriving in Griffonstone from Equestria everyday. It was still attention grabbing, but in a mundane sort of way.
'Wasting sicknesses take time. Crimson has time.' Prey told himself to stop worrying. 'It's fine. It'll be fine. It's all fine.'
"Zoma'Grika Crimson, you'd better be fine or I'm going to kill you myself." Prey worried.
---I---