//------------------------------// // Case by Case // Story: Death Mark // by Hierolephant //------------------------------// A Nocturne mare had thrown her colt off of a fifth-floor balcony. A Nocturne filly had had poisonous herbs in the sandwich of her school packed lunch, which her father had made. Another filly had been stranded by her parents on an unstable cloud-bed, the drifting nimbus disintegrating beneath her hooves. The list went on. Foals stranded in dangerous places, fed dangerous food, deliberately thrown off high places... By the grace of the Princesses, there were no casualties. Either from extreme luck at surviving the heinous abuse, or the quick thinking of concerned bystanders. A good thing too; heavens forbid, but if there had been a death then there would be angry mobs everywhere. As it was, it was already Bad. Not angry mobs just yet, the newspapers had been paid to keep quiet until the mystery had been unraveled, but that didn't stop the ugly looks and the unpleasant whispers which tended to travel faster than the efforts of the printing press anyway. Not that no measures had been taken; all of the foals involved were now in protective care in a foster home and the parents detained. Foal Services Worker Nursery Garden gave it a week until ponies started menacingly sharpening pitchforks. Or procuring them in order to sharpen menacingly, since Central Canterlot didn't exactly boast many farmers. She'd already heard unpleasant and frankly racist rumours of foal sacrifice and cannibalism and she wondered briefly if some of her colleagues and a few of the Guards needed a sensitivity seminar and those horror novels in the employee lounge confiscated. She needed to solve this case- these multiple cases -now before herd mentality and paranoia started taking effect. And she did mean solve. It wasn't as simple as having the foals placed with relatives or foster homes and the parents charged for their crimes. Not when the children were hysterical at being removed from their parents and not at all at their nearly-fatal experiences. Not when the parents seemed completely bemused at why their children were being taken away and themselves arrested. Many even flat-out denied trying to murder their children, statements which came out clean under lie-detector spells. Indeed, both children and parents were starting to get irritable and almost fearful at being taken from their loved ones. But it was for the safety of the foals. That was why Nursery was here, why this was her job in the first place. Why she was currently pinning notes to a corkboard with red string like a cheap detective novel. She thought it somewhat appropriate, because it felt like that was what this was turning into. If it worked in books it might work for her. "Miss Garden?" Lollipop Treat, a younger colleague whose main talents lay with comforting foals after being lost or going to doctor's appointments. Whose normally fluffy mane was frizzy with stress and blue eyes dangerously watery at all the distressed foals going around who refused to be comforted. "Oh you poor dear, you look run off your hooves," Nursery soothed her fragile coworker, pulling out a chair. "Let me get you some nice chamomile tea for your nerves." Frazzled shake of the head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'd...I'd really like that." A weak smile. "But the foster-group homes need me to talk to them, want me to talk to the foals and I just-" a shaky breath, "I'm very busy. I actually came by to deliver a message though. Since you're the one overseeing the...problems?" "Not another incident?! Oh no, was everypony alright this time?" "N-not exactly." Seeing the horror on Nursery's face, Lollipop amended her statement. "No, no! I mean that somepony's come forward...with information. He's waiting by the front desk for you." Dismissing the uncertainty in the mare's voice, Nursery instead jumped on the surge of relief she felt. "Oh thank heavens! Here, if you're not going to have tea, have a sweet and come on!" Shoving her little jar of fruity candies into Lollipop's hoof, Nursery's horn lit up and pulled her now-distracted colleague by the shirt collar down the corridor. The stallion in question was everything she was not expecting. There seemed to be a shadow cast over his face beneath the plumed helmet of a Royal Guard, but it didn't hide the cat-slitted gold eyes. The dark purple armor did nothing to hide, but rather framed, the dark membraned wings furled over the broad shoulders. Surrounded by the cheery murals and comfy over-stuffed armchairs of the reception room, the Nocturne stallion looked too sharp and heavy for this world. Falling back on her habitual conversation starter, the reason she kept a jar of sweets in the first place, Nursery grabbed it from Lollipop and proffered it to the stallion. Failing to notice that Lollipop was still fumbling around inside it for her own treat and thus also tugging on her coworker's hoof in the process. Sending the poor mare muzzle-first onto the carpet. "Uh..." Nursery could feel her frayed nerves snapping faster under the weight of the embarrassment and absolute mortification. "Do you want a sweet?" She resisted the urge to shrink under the piercing glare of the gold eyes that whispered to her hindbrain to cower in place. But then they blinked. "Um," said a rumbly voice. Before an armour-clad hoof was offered to Lollipop. "Up you come now, Miss." "T'ank 'ou," Lollipop snuffled through her bruised nose. "'Ursery, d'is is-" "Chaplain Grave Beetle, Night Guard Special Investigations," is the introduction, complete with a sharp hoofstep to the snap to attention. "I've been sent to lend assistance to...some serial attempted murders? Is that right?" He pauses, suddenly. "...can I still have a sweet?" "Of course," Nursery assured him hurriedly. "Take two, for helping Lollipop. Lollipop I'm so sorry," she hissed out the side of her mouth, but the mare simply patted her shoulder in forgiveness. The stallion, Grave Beetle...should she call him Grave or Beetle? Or maybe he didn't like his name being split up? Or should she be addressing him by his rank? Chaplain? What kind of rank was that? Admittedly she didn't know much about military ranks, let along the probably very different ones of a military that had only just come back from a thousand years ago... Anyway, Chaplain Grave Beetle took two sweets. A caramel nut and a forest fruit chew. "...Let me show you what we've got so far," Nursery offered weakly, but relieved.