//------------------------------//
// Chapter 16 
// Story: The Edge of Madness 
// by SaltyJustice 
//------------------------------//

	"Princess Celestia?" Twilight asked, looking out the stage coach as we got closer to the city.  I think she was concerned by the dark rainclouds looming over the structures, perhaps because Canterlot took steps to avoid scheduling rainstorms during the day.  Stalliongrad, by comparison, did not mind having clear nights and rainy days, it was just their custom.
"Please Twilight, you must refer to me as Ms. Petalfeather while we're here," I reminded her gently.  I had taken on my alter-ego to conduct this latest investigation in peace.  For the previous month I had been working diligently to track down these strange occurrences Cadence had told me about, and everywhere I went I had met resistance in my official form.  Not the sort one might expect, but rather, every sycophant within a hundred miles felt the need to tell me what they thought I wanted to hear.  I would have much preferred to travel undisguised, but at this point necessity demanded it.
Cadence had informed me of a curious set of murders that occurred at the school as she was seconds away, completely under her nose.  I assured her I was not angry with her, but I don't think that helped too much, as she was not accustomed to feeling so powerless.  Worse still, the murders had become quickly well publicized, meaning the flood of rumor drowned out most of the useful information to be gathered.
At first I gathered official documents concerning a set of similar incidents in Ponyville.  The bodies had been discovered by a passing night watchpony, and taken to the urgent care center to be pronounced dead.  Shortly after, while the watchpony was alone with them, he had claimed they had started to move, and had thrown them into the crematorium in panic.  While he had been suspended and placed under psychiatric observation, the story was eerily similar to the one Cadence had described, so I had quietly revoked the suspension and given him a brief interview.  He spent the whole time insisting it was very much real, but otherwise provided little in terms of new details.
A second set of incidents had occurred at Cloudsdale sometime later, with the same modus:  a colt and a filly, roughly Twilight's age, found drained of color on a tennis court in the evening.  The caretaker who found them had thought them dead, but they got up and wandered off into the darkness before he could get close.  The bodies were recovered the next day, having plummeted to the ground sometime in the night but not having been destroyed on impact.
While I had thought that was the final incident, I had heard a rumor of another case in Stalliongrad, but one which had no official investigation or witnesses.  Everything was off the record, though I wasn't sure why.  It was the only lead I had, so I followed it, arranging for Twilight and myself to be visiting under the guise of a private tutor teaching her protege about Stalliongrad's long industrial history, which was not too far off the mark.
The stagecoach took another bump and Twilight bounced along with it.  She hadn't pulled out a book the entire journey, instead staring out the window at the city as we got closer or asking me questions about it.  Her geology kick had turned into a chemistry fascination, followed by industrial chemistry and now, machining and the history of inventions.  She soaked up knowledge like a sponge and never filled, though never seemed to stop and ask herself when enough was enough.  Oh to be young again.
I told Twilight some more about Stalliongrad, about how the city had been the first site where a major coal seam had been discovered and heavy industry had practically sprung up around it.  It was a city of hammers and steel, populated mostly by earth ponies living in apartments in great red-bricked complexes.  As we pulled in to the hotel we were staying at, Twilight said not a word, instead taking in the square, no-nonsense architecture.
"We're here ma'am," came a voice from outside the carriage window, the voice of the cabby who had agreed to pull us here.
"What do I owe you?" I asked him simply.  Twilight made a gurgling sound but quieted quickly, as she strained to control herself lest she go bounding off into the city to search it.
"Thirty-five for the distance, plus five for luggage," he said flatly.  I passed him the cash and a nice tip, to which he tipped his cap and nodded at me.  As he pulled away to look for another fare within the city, I took Twilight over towards the front desk.
This was, to put it politely, not the finest accommodations available, but one cannot live in finery forever.  Stalliongrad had a number of lovely hotels, but our purpose required simplicity.  Two ponies in thick overcoats stood near the desk, one reading something while the other kept lookout.  Our eyes met briefly and he nodded, whispering something to his cohort as I approached the counter.
"Reservation for Petalfeather?" I asked the clerk, a very short little mare, she looked like a filly.  Perhaps the owner had left his daughter to watch the desk.
"Hm hm," she said, humming to herself as she pulled up a book from behind the counter and plopped it down in front of me.
"Pe, pe.  Petal.  Petalfeather?" she said, pointing to my 'name' and a blotch of ink.  It seemed my room had been changed several times since I had made the reservation.
"Is there a problem?" I asked her.
"No, no problem.  Key is right here," she said, passing me a key labelled '114'.  The overcoated ponies made note of the number and left through the front door without a word, as Twilight and I carried our bags down the hallway towards the room.
Twilight stood expectantly in front of the door, but something seemed off to me.
"Twilight, step back a bit so I can get the door," I said, loudly.  I had to make sure anypony inside the room would hear me, as I quietly casted an amplifier spell.  Twilight's eyes widened as she made mental notes of what I was doing.
The amplifier spell would increase every sound coming out of the room so long as I held it in front of the door.  I levitated my key over to the lock and turned it, and as I did, I heard something on the inside shuffling around, confirming my suspicions.  By my guess, it was coming from somewhere off to the left.
I had to hold Twilight back, as I don't think she realized there was any danger here, and was more curious than anything else.  I let the spell fade as I entered, peering around carefully until I spotted the outline of an ear sticking out from behind a chair in the darkness.  Moonlight shining in from the windows arrayed on the far side had betrayed his position.
I gave no warning, lifting up one of my bags and suddenly flinging it at the head I could see.  It rebounded off and broke open, scattering my clothes everywhere as I stepped back and fired a flare spell into the room, lighting it up with blinding intensity, but no sound.  It seemed only the one ambusher was present, and before he could recover I was already on top of him.  Twilight, in the excitement, followed just behind me, ready to help in any way she could.
"Waugh, lemmego!" he shouted, with a thick eastern accent, as I got a good look at him.  A fairly young stallion, barely of age, lay on the floor beneath me, thrashing in vain.  His face had a rough look for one so young, and his mane was unkempt, a thick oily black.
"I'll let you go if you talk," I said.  I needed to keep this brief, as the guardsponies would be here any minute.
He remained silent, and stopped struggling.  "I take that as an agreement," I said, stepping off him.  He glanced at the doorway, but decided he couldn't make the run, and looked back up at me.
"Who are you, and who sent you?" I asked.  He looked up at me, puzzled.
"This is Sergei's territory, and you didn't make an offering.  I'm just a messenger!" he pleaded with me, and as he did, a knife fell out of his bushy tail.
"Do all messengers carry concealed weapons?" I asked him.  He looked up bashfully.
"Not mine, I forgot it was there," he said.  Given the state of his hair, that wasn't an outside possibility.
"I'm not looking for trouble, okay?  Whoever this Sergei is, tell him Petalfeather is off limits," I said, and as I did, the two ponies from the lobby appeared at the doorway.
"Ma'am, is everything all right?" one of them asked.
"Just peachy, the bellhop was just about to leave.  Here's your tip," I said, levitating out two bits and putting them on his forehead.  I let him stand up, and he shook himself off before walking out of the room, shooting a glance at me as he did so.

"Sergeant Salnikov, at your service," one of the coated ponies told me, as we went about cleaning the room up.  He flashed a badge, hidden under his coat, and nodded towards his partner.
"That there is Golovkin, but he doesn't speak much Equestrian.  I do most of the talking," he said.  Stalliongrad was a bilingual city, but Salnikov didn't have an accent.  Probably an immigrant, but it wasn't my business.
Twilight, for all the days' excitement, was battling sleep as she poked around the hotel room, exploring.  Her eyes were getting droopy, yet she and Smarty-Pants stuck their heads everywhere, taking in every tiny detail.  She didn't speak though, and barely even acknowledged anypony's presence except to go around them.  When she got focused, it was as if the rest of the world didn't exist.
"Who's this Sergei?  Why did he send somepony to break into my room?" I asked Salnikov.
"Sergei?  He's a small-timer, trying to break into the big-leagues by roughing up everypony he can.  He won't be bothering you, I'll see to that," Salnikov said, as he checked the inside of the closet, next to the door.
"What's the security situation?" I asked.
"We'll have two uniformed troopers in the lobby, one undercover watching the door, another on the roof, and one watching the street.  You'll have more cover than the most celebrities, Miss Petalfeather," he said.  He wasn't aware of my cunning disguise, but he followed orders to the letter, smartly and professionally.
"Twilight, could you come here a moment?" I asked my student as gently as possible.  She was reading the tag on one of the pillows on the bed, probably so she could ask me about washing pillows and what temperature of water to use.  She ambled over smartly at my request.
"Now, you remember how to use this?" I asked, as I opened up one of the luggage bags we had brought, and brought out a small necklace with a bit of crystal on it.
"Just break it if I think I'm in trouble," she said, happy to have remembered it.
"Very good.  Be sure to wear it as long as we're here," I said to her.
Twilight was probably aware, at least on some level, of what the pendant actually did.  I had an exact copy elsewhere in the bag, and exact is meant literally.  If one broke, so would the other, and by breaking it, she would be telling me I needed to drop what I was doing and find her.  The enchantment was relatively simple to perform, but I wasn't up for teaching duplication magic to just anypony, especially not a filly.  It tended to get hairy fairly quickly, and the results were extremely messy if the spell was used on a living creature.
"All right, I have to leave you for the rest of the evening.  Mister Salnikov here will be just outside if you need anything.  Can you put yourself to bed?" I asked.
"But I'm not tired!" Twilight protested.  I noticed she wasn't blinking normally, but was instead blinking one eye, and then the other, to prevent both from closing at once, lest she fall asleep.
"Oh well, don't stay up too late then.  I'll try not to wake you up when I return," I said, winking at Salnikov as I left.  He rolled his eyes and took up his position in the hallway outside the room, nodding at his partner who removed his coat to reveal a pair of wings.  While Stalliongrad had been founded by earth ponies, it was a metropolitan city.  However, in many circles, the so-called 'exotics' or 'outsiders' were not welcome, so an undercover guardspony would need to hide himself.  The thick overcoats these two wore were a testament to the harsh, insular society that had grown up here.
I nodded at the two uniformed, armored troopers and said a few pleasantries as I passed the lobby.  My destination tonight was a nightclub called 'The Furled Brow'.  According to the official documents, a terribly mangled body had washed up downriver, a suspected mafia killing, and that was all.  The body wasn't identified, no official report was filed, the guardsponies just let it fall off the face of the earth.  I had been informed that they had also somehow lost the damn thing, taken from the morgue in the middle of the night, and it was that which aroused my suspicion.  The morgue had been locked, and the lock had been broken from the inside.
The body may not have been identified, but there were only a few assassins in the city that the guard hadn't arrested.  Obviously, I couldn't go putting a hit out in order to find a murderer, but I could find a murderer's friend, and one such pony frequented this particular nightclub.
It became fairly obvious, fairly fast, what sort of club this place was.  I walked without incident most of the way across the city, and it was around eight that I reached the street with the club on it.  I had had to find a secluded alley way to lower the sun, but I was fairly certain nopony had noticed.  The streets in this run-down part of town were empty and barren, the buildings showing decay and the shops shuttered.  The club itself wasn't much better, the sign advertising it was lit up, with several of the lights broken, and the lettering had faded with weather.
A mare wearing far too much makeup took my coat at the door and gave me a beaten-up menu, though I wasn't particularly hungry.  A single waiter in a cheap black suit was meandering easily between a number of tables seating droopy-eyed guests, navigating flawlessly in the low light.  The air stunk of alcohol, and I could barely make out the stage on the far side of the room.  There was a stool on it, but no entertainment at the moment.
Fortunately, my quarry was not difficult to spot.  A pony walked out on the stage from behind the curtains as I made my way over to a booth in the far corner, she cleared her throat and mumbled something unintelligible.  The audience didn't react, with one exception.
"Ivan Yershov?" I asked him, a tall brown pony sitting on the seat cushion, eyeing the stage, or more accurately, the mare on it.  His cutie mark was a hammer striking a block, and his amber eyes had thick bags under them.  His mane was a dark red, muffled by a brown flat-cap on his head.  His eyes focused on the mare with intensity, but not an amiable intensity.  There was something peculiar about his expression, but I could not quite put my hoof on it.
"Not now foreigner, she is to sing," he said in Russian.  I spoke enough to get by, but my accent had probably given me away.
The pony on the stage cleared her throat and began to sing what sounded like a lullaby, except she wasn't singing any words, just notes.  It was slow and gentle, and I could see Ivan bobbing his head along with the notes.  The other guests looked like they were about to fall asleep, but Ivan was greatly interested in it.
After a few minutes, the singer finished her set and took a bow, mumbling something else I couldn't make out and walking off stage.  The audience didn't applaud, they just resumed their idle chatter.
"Like something I've heard before, reminds me of my mother," Ivan said.
"I hate to interrupt -," I started to say, doing my best to put together the Russian translation.
"Foreigner, you murder the language.  I can speak to you this way," he said with a flat expression.  Guess my Russian needed more practice.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Is not to apologize, I have to wait for her next song.  Entertain me," he said.
"I'm looking for somepony, and was told you know him.  Hector?" I asked.
He had been scanning the room as I spoke, but as soon as I said the name, he had stopped for a moment, before continuing.  "Lots look for Hector, none find him.  What makes you think I know?" he asked.
"I've been told you're a friend of his," I said.
"Yeah?  And who tells you this, he is wrong," he said.  He turned away and glanced at the stage again.
"The singer, who is she?" I asked, figuring I could change the subject until he warmed up.
"She is no great thing, just something I like, yes?  Let me have this," he said.
"Maybe I could talk to her for you, you know, quid-pro-quot?  I always know just what to say," I said.  He turned back to me.
"I am not familiar with phrase, squid pro quo.  No matter, she is not a mare who talks, yes?  Only sings," he said.
A pony and a zebra came in the door and shooed away the hostess as she tried to give them a menu.  Ivan saw them and turned to me.
"I am sorry foreigner, I must go," he said, as he stood up quietly from the table and walked towards the backstage entrance, making sure to keep facing away from the two  who had just entered.  They saw him anyway, and doubled back outside, probably to go to the backstage exit.  It didn't take a genius to see what was coming next.
I politely excused myself from the waiter who had come by to take my order, and walked outside myself.  Dark clouds obscured the moon, but the threat of rain was an empty one, the clouds having already expunged themselves earlier that day.  I looked around to try to spot a glimpse of where the thugs had gone.  I heard murmuring coming from a nearby alley and quietly made my way over.
Peering around the corner, I saw the zebra and the pony on either side of Ivan, though they hadn't noticed me yet.
"A very pretty friend you have, shameful if she got hurt," said the zebra.
"Is no friend, just came up to me.  Leave her alone," Ivan said.
"You think us stupid?  Drop disguise Hector, we have job for you," the zebra said again.
"I not work for you or anypony, I told you I am done.  Leave me alone," Ivan said.  The pony pulled a small bludgeon out from under his cap, and held it menacingly in one hoof while the zebra moved to get behind Ivan.  Or Hector.
"That's quite enough of that," I said, stepping around the corner and into full view of the three.  The zebra pulled out a knife and brandished it at me.
"Girlyfriend fights for you?  Sad," said the Zebra, as both of them started advancing on me.  Ivan's face went pale white as he watched me, standing in full view, making no effort to retreat.
The zebra screamed and dropped his knife, which was a reasonable reaction to the spell I had cast.  I had simply charged the knife with electricity, and the shock it had given him had probably numbed his leg.  He slumped over before regaining his balance, and the pony took this as an excuse to charge me.
I didn't feel like showing off, so I just levitated up a garbage can and slammed it into his head from behind, simple, but effective.  The blow caused him to fall flat on his face, and he stood up with a freshly broken nose.
"I'll let you leave if you leave Ivan alone," I said.  The two looked at one another, then dusted themselves off and turned around.
"Is not over," the zebra spat back at me as they disappeared around a corner leading deeper into the alley.
"You hide much I see," Ivan said.
"As much as you, Hector?" I asked.  He shushed me, and motioned for me to follow him.
He led me a few blocks away, though I had no idea where we were.  All the buildings looked the same muddy brown, and some looked to be abandoned entirely.  The few ponies I did see made a point of crossing the street to avoid us as we walked past.
Finally, Ivan led me to what looked like a blown-up factory, bricks lay everywhere and ancient iron machinery lay smashed in a collapsed heap.  He smiled at me as he led me inside and to the back, where a small brown door waited for us.
"Before you ask, I used to work here before the boiler exploded.  Quite a time, that was," he said, in a perfect Equestrian accent.  The Russian was completely gone.  There was a lot more to this pony than met the eye.
"Did you have anything to do with that?" I asked with a wink.
"Ma'am, you impugn my honor!  No, but the lads who did found a few things out about me that they decided were useful," he said.  He then felt around some bricks nearby before producing a hidden key, and used it to unlock the door.
"It's not much, but it's all I have.  Make yourself at home," he said, opening it.  Inside was what used to be the forepony's office, except the window had collapsed.  The only way in was the doorway.  He lit a candle on the floor and revealed a pile of hay which was presumably a bed, and a bookshelf with faded, dusty books on it.  The only one I recognized was a play, "Octred IV", as the other books were in Russian and I couldn't read it well enough to translate.
"It's safe to speak here?" I asked him.
"That and more.  You were looking for Hector, well, you've found him," he said.
As he did, his shape blurred and a greenish tinge swept over him until another pony stood in his place, one I didn't recognize.
"At your service, ma'am," he said.
"A changeling?  I'm sorry, I had thought you were wiped out," I said.  He winced.
"No, though that would be a useful thing for you to believe.  There are a few hives here and there still," he said.
"Then why are you here and not there?  You're a long way from home," I said.
"I have no home, I am an outcast, so I live here and work here," he said.  Though he kept his expression flat, I could tell it was an act, even if a very good one.
"And you're in deep with the mob?  Can't you just leave it all behind, change who you are?  Isn't that what changelings do?" I asked.
"It is not so simple.  The singer, she has finally started to like Ivan, and Ivan likes her too, see?  I would spend my whole life as Ivan if she liked him, but these thugs, they found out and now they have me do jobs for them, or they will hurt her.  So I am Hector, and I do terrible things, then I slip away from the dragnet," he said, sighing.
"I thought the changelings had a rule about not killing, or is my information outdated?" I asked.
"That you know of us at all is interesting in itself.  Perhaps I am not the only one who changes his forms?  No matter, whatever rules I had to follow were gone when I was exiled," he said.
"Okay, I get the feeling you haven't told anypony about it, so you may as well tell me," I said.
"It is difficult to keep a secret for so long, isn't it?  Are you sure you want to hear my story?" he asked.  I nodded.
"Very well, though it is not as complex as you think.  Some time ago, our old queen became ill and it was the duty of every hive member to select her replacement.  I backed the wrong candidate, and so I was exiled," he said.
"Oh really, and there's no more to it than that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I must say I most vociferously backed that candidate, but only because the alternative was worse.  She is power-hungry, and cares nothing for the old ways.  When she came to power, she had to make sure inconveniences, like me, would not stop her.  I was given a choice, death or exile, and so here I am," he said.
"Interesting, and just where is this hive?  Is it in Equestria?  Do I need to be concerned?" I asked.
He laughed.  "There are some rules that none of us break, not even that one.  So, now that I have told you, you must tell me.  Why are you looking for Hector?" he asked.
"About a year ago, somepony was brutally murdered, their body torn to shreds and dumped into the river, and then the body was stolen from the morgue before it could be identified.  I'm interested in that body, and since I don't know whose it is, I figured I'd find out who made it," I said.
"And you suspect I am the one who did it?" he asked me, but not with surprise in his voice.
"You'd be a good place to start," I said.
"Since I am laying it all out, I can trust that you will believe me on this.  Yes, it was my job to kill that pony, his name was Igor Istomin, if you care," he said.
"I do, I need to make sure his family gets the news," I said.  He shook his head.
"They do not care, I have already told them myself.  I am not a monster," he said.
"If you're not a monster, then why'd you tear the poor fellow apart?  The report said he'd been cut dozens of times before being drowned," I said.
"I killed him, yes, I admit it.  I cut his throat and let him bleed, I tried to make it quick.  I thought for sure he was dead, and I went to get the blocks I was to tie to his legs before submerging him.  That way, his body would not float to the surface, you see," he said.  I nodded.
"When I got back a few minutes later, he stood up.  His blood was all over the floor, he was covered in it, but he was standing, and he was angry.  I kept cutting him and he kept attacking me, until I pushed him into the river and ran away.  I swear to you, he was dead when I did that," he said to me.
"And did you steal the body out of the morgue?  Was that part of the contract?" I asked.
"I did no such thing, perhaps the mob did that to keep ends from being loose, but it was not me," he said.
"Hmm," I said, putting my hoof to my chin.  This all fit with what Cadence had told me, somehow, but I was still missing any sort of motive.  I'd have to let her figure the rest out.
"I take it you do not believe me?" he said.
"I do, and you've been very helpful.  I suppose your reward will be walking free from here," I said.  He looked confused.
"You would have turned me in?" he asked.
"You're a murderer, no matter whose face you wear, but I can forgive it for extenuating circumstances.  My only requirement is that you take your singer friend out of town, someplace safe.  This can't keep going on," I said.  He nodded.
"I have a plan, but I need to do some things first.  You will see, there will be no more Hector here or anywhere," he said, practically begging me to believe him.  It was only his lot in life to be a liar, even if he didn't want to be one.  Changelings, I had thought they went extinct.
I returned to my hotel room to find everything in order, with Twilight asleep in bed and nothing out of place.  With no time to lose, I composed a letter to Cadence and sent it off, hoping that it was enough.  It was all on her now, and time for me to return to being Princess Celestia.