“Then, you have no idea—” I trailed off.
Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash had shaken their heads as they took several steps back.
The latter shot a glance at the former and scoffed in disbelief.
“Dude, are you taking your meds?” said she. “Also, why in the world would she do that?”
“Yeah,” the pink mare concurred. “why WOULD I do that?”
“But you did!” I persisted.
But she shook her head.
“Nuh-uh, I didn’t!” said she as she glanced at the direction of Rainbow Dash. "We've been here since yesterday!"
Then she looked at me with a doubtful expression. “Is this some kind of joke? ‘Cause even it is, it sure isn’t funny!”
“BUT YOU DID!” I persisted with an even more aggressive tone.
This had certainly attracted a good amount of attention, for those present at the abbey turned their heads towards my direction. Perhaps they wondered how could a madpony get mixed amongst their midst.
Realizing that I had been making quite the scene, I had swiftly exited the abbey, leaving the mares bewildered, and took the time to mentally digest on what had just occurred.
They had, then, no idea on what I was talking about. How could this be? Everything they said had contradicted everything I had been told. What about the case—what about Dash’s disappearance? If the either them appeared to be completely innocent—then, was there even a case? Was there ever any presence of foul play? Well, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie beg to differ. We have only the client—Ms. Derpy Hooves’ own account that anything happened at all. Was it all a lie—was it perhaps all one fabricated lie? But why—why this rigmarole of lies? And the Changeling whom had posed as Pinkie Pie—did he do so to give the impression that she had committed a devious crime? It certainly did that—and what of Ms. Hooves—where is she then? She had not been since when we had alighted off the station and proceeded to leave Pones and I in the dust as she headed to the bakery. And when we followed her, we had met the Changeling—was she—Ms. Derpy Hooves, and Pinkie Pie, one of the same pony? Were the both of them being posed as by the same thing? Then if so, what could be its object? What could that Changeling possibly gain from inventing a case with certain actors that had never been associated with it for there had been not a case in the first place? Why had they been chosen to involved?
Furthermore, where had been the actual ponies involved in the case—Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash? Where had they been this entire time? Was it possible that they have be somehow involved in it? Then, if so, how? I had felt that they were someway indeed, therefore I decided to ascertain whatever it may be by remaining within the background and gather information.
When the Changelings and their Queen had been blasted off the land, preparations had been immediately set for the REAL marriage of Captain Shining Amor and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. I had been one of those who participated in the activities of repairment. I had done my part by providing medical aid to those injured by the attack. I had set up in a small portion of the castle a sort of small clinic, where ponies came for temporary medical assistance until more ample aid comes. And from my patients—which the majority consisted of the Royal Guard—I had been able my desired information.
Though my readers may already be well-acquainted with the following, I will nevertheless state it—
As it turns out, Twilight Sparkle and her friends had received invitations to the wedding had been bestowed upon certain tasks just previous morning.
Twilight Sparkle was the bestmare; Fluttershy had been bestowed upon the task of providing the music with her bird choir; Pinkie Pie on hosting the reception; Applejack on the catering; Rainbow Dash was to perform the famed stunt—the Sonic Rainboom once the bride and groom had finished their vows; Ms. Rarity was to design the dresses. And all of them—yes, all of them, mind you—including Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie—the Guards had sworn of them being so, remained doing their designated duties since then, and never had left the city during the entirety of their stay. This contradicts greatly on what I had seen, for yesterday, as you may recall, Pones and I encountered Pinkie Pie in Ponyville. Now, how could she be in two places at once without the involvement of a Changeling? But why had been she involved in the matter? Why had been Rainbow Dash? Why had been Ms. Hooves? And what had been the case’s entire purpose? Unfortunately, the answers to those questions I had been quite unable to gain for the entirety of the day.
I had attended the wedding (in which I had received its invitation from my acts of kindness); I had bear witness to the royal couple’s vows; I had witnessed Ms. Dash’s Sonic Rainboom; Her Majesty—Princess Celestia had commends the acts of heroism in which Twilight Sparkle and her friends and emphasizes upon the former to always place one’s trust to one’s instincts.
There had been held at the courtyard an evening wedding reception, where the newlyweds danced to a waltz as the fireworks illuminated the night sky. It was also where, as I dined to a meal of scotched egg, attempted to come up with a definitive explanation to everything. I accounted the bogus case, the Changeling, the Queen’s attack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie, the talk about the Professor—but even in doing so, I still failed miserably.
I slammed a hoof at the table, as the utensils clattered unto the ground. I had perhaps caused to turn a few heads, for it appeared to be the only one who was quite unhappy in such a happy event.
“But why?” said I, gripping my hair. “Why can’t I seem to solve it?”
I had felt like I was at a complete loss on what to do with this damned mystery and had wondered where in the Equestrian Monarchy could be the only stallion who could solve it. Yes, I had thought, he could definitely solve it. But this had brought in a new line of thought—what had he been doing this entire time?
Then, as if an answer to my prayers, I heard the familiar trot of certain hooves.
“I owe you a thousand apologies, my dear Watcolt,” said the voice in which I knew so well. “for retaining you in darkness for so long.”
I then, in surprise, had spun round my chair and found the frail form of Sherclop Pones, looking haggard and exhausted, with his usual neat hairstyle looking messy and disorganized.
“Pones!” I cried as I stared in amazement. “Sweet Celestia, never more have I been grateful to see you!”
Pones nodded and proceeded to do a certain hoof gesture, asking if he may take a seat.
“By all means!” said I, eager to ask him a million questions.
As he sat down, I saw a certain kind of resentment in his eyes, like he was angry. But it didn’t seem to hold that anger on me, but rather to himself. The lips in his aquiline face had pursed themselves, and his brows closely knitted. Nevertheless, he retained his usual cold and collected demeanor. He nodded his head as raised his brows as if to greet me.
“Pones,” said I, taking the initiative to engage upon a conversation. “Where have you been?”
I saw a dark expression loom over Pones’ face.
“With my brother at Buck Mall.”
“With Myclop?” said I. “Why—what for?”
I vividly saw Pones’ face flush up.
“I was scolded,” said he, reluctantly. “scolded for my foolishness…”
I stared at him.
“Foolishness in what?” said I.
“For allowing this to happen!” Pones had said this as waved a hoof in the air.
I frowned. “The wedding?” I scoffed.
Pones shook his head. Then, he said dreadfully with a long face:
“The attack,”