Archives of the Friendquisition

by Inquisipony Stallius


Chapter 28

Chapter 28

“Doomed, I say! We’re all doomed!”
 
The shouting was the only single sound that could be heard clearly above the indistinct din of Pferdian’s bustling streets. It echoed off the buildings all around, booming impressively in a way that made the source—a ragged, wild-eyed stallion in a Heliarchal robe and the twilight of his years—a little disappointing by comparison. He was shouting from the fountain that stood in the center of a small municipal park, tucked in between a pair of towering skyscrapers. A small shaft of light fought its way past the rooftops to land on the statue of the Princess standing solemnly behind him.
 
“Don’t mind him,” said Chief Corpus, even though Caballus hadn’t. Roughshod hadn’t either, but Hairtrigger had turned his head toward the sound when they first passed the park. They must not have those where he comes from, the Inquisipony thought. A fire-and-brimstone priest on the corner was a common sight in every city of Equestria, or failing that, a lunatic who would perform roughly the same function.
 
“Do you not recall the legends?” the doomsayer continued. “Do you not see the signs? Turn away from your wicked ways, away from the boundless avarice of your lords! Repent! Repent unto the Princess, and you may yet escape the coming fire!”
 
Now making a point of ignoring the mild disturbance, the Chief Constable ushered Hairtrigger along and trotted up beside Caballus. “Captain, as fun as this little field trip is—which Meister made mandatory for me, I’ll remind you—you still haven’t told me where exactly we’re going or why.”
 
“I understand your frustration, Chief Corpus,” Caballus replied, “but I didn’t feel it prudent to communicate our plans where they might be… compromised.”
 
“You don’t trust my officers?” said Corpus. Surprisingly, he didn’t sound very offended.
 
“I trust you,” Caballus lied. The list of ponies Caballus truly trusted was a short one, one he could count on his hooves, and Corpus wasn’t on it. Still, he didn’t suspect Corpus of any treachery in particular, which for an Inquisipony, was saying something. “That’s why you’re coming along. I just couldn’t risk the wrong eyes intercepting a message, or the wrong ears overhearing us.”
 
“I was born and raised in Pferdian, Captain, and that sounds paranoid even to me.” Corpus let a brief grin pass his lips, but just as quickly he frowned. “You make it sound like there’s some sort of conspiracy going on. I know Pferdian has its problems, but at least it’s always your everyday, run-of-the-mill vices, like greed and powerlust. Be thankful we’re not riddled with cults like some-”
 
Hooves clutched at the Chief’s uniform, causing him to shout. In a flash, Roughshod had the assailant pulled off and lifted up by the scruff of his robe.
 
“Cults! Heathens! Princess preserve me, they’re everywhere!” cried the hysterical preacher as he wriggled weakly in Roughshod’s grasp. “Everywhere I rebuke them, but still the tide rises from below! I… I see them in the shadows, such dreadful, gathering shadows...”
 
Caballus glared at him for a moment. “I doubt you’ve seen much of anything,” he finally said. Up close, he could now see the old priest’s eyes roll around, unfocussed, cloudy with cataracts. With a nod, Roughshod gently set the blind stallion back on his hooves, and they left him behind.
 
“I hope you’re right,” said Caballus, once they had put the tiny park behind them, “but I’m not going to rule out cult activity just yet.”
 
Corpus grumbled. “Fair enough. So where are we going? What’s in downtown that’s so important the Chief Constable needs to leave his nice, boring desk to help you take care of it?”
 
Caballus stopped. “Would you believe me if I said it was Juwel Ver Kaufer?”
 
Chief Corpus stopped as well, and looked across the street from where they were standing. “The Diamantaire.” He shook his head, but smirked. “You know, I just might. Captain Corsair, you are bold. I will give you that. But you can’t do this. Even with my help, you couldn’t put Juwel away. As far as Meister is concerned, attempted assassination isn’t even a crime. It doesn’t matter what kind of evidence I bring him; his kids stay free.”
 
Caballus put a foreleg over Corpus’s back. “Then we’ll have to get evidence of something else,” he said with the grin of a shark. Corpus couldn’t help but grin back, and led the way. The Inquisipony glanced behind, and found Roughshod and Hairtrigger also smiling. He nodded after the Chief, and the three of them followed.
 
Flanked by his subordinates and the Chief Constable, Caballus stormed across the gem-cutting floors. Craftsponies halted their machinery to watch, and aged professionals looked up from their inspection scopes as the four of them reached the main elevator. A nervous murmur followed in their wake, but nopony stopped them. Countless floors later, they reached Juwel’s office.
 
The mare behind the front desk was about as surprised as if the ghost of the Lord Solar himself had walked in and demanded to see Juwel. She made a number of excuses to deny them, all of which were ignored by Caballus. He was there on the authority of the Plutarch, after all. Not quite as menacing as the rosette, but it could still be considered treason to openly defy him, and he told the secretary as much.
 
Nopony knew whether Caballus lifted his hoof to barge in or merely knock, but before he had the chance to do either, the door opened on its own.
 
“Fine. We can discuss this…” said Waffen Ver Kaufer over his shoulder until he realized there was somepony in his way. He snapped his head forward, and seeing Caballus, he glared.
 
Nearly as large as Roughshod, Waffen had no trouble pushing past Caballus and Hairtrigger with an indignant huff. Corpus just stepped aside, as surprised to see Meister’s son in Juwel’s office as Waffen was to see them. When he came to the larger stallion, the Ver Kaufer heir paused, and Roughshod looked to his friend for a signal. Caballus only shook his head, and Roughshod let Waffen pass.
 
“One at a time,” the Inquisipony said when Waffen had left.
 
The interior of Juwel’s office was organized chaos. What little furniture there was seemed to follow no particular pattern, save for all being very obviously expensive. A pair of tables that were in no way a pair—one an ancient oak sculpture and the other a baroque piece in mother-of-pearl—were littered with sketches and designs ranging from evening wear to luxury carriages to airship schematics. The desk was no better, strewn with photos and containers holding decorative gemstones in all shapes, sizes and colors. Behind it stood Juwel.
 
Realizing who her visitors were, Juwel’s mouth tightened, and her eyes narrowed, the tiniest bit. “Captain Corsair.”
 
“Juwel Ver Kaufer, I presume,” said Caballus. Not having been formally introduced yet, he figured it couldn’t hurt to be polite.
 
“You presume much, Captain,” she replied, cold as the ice her diamond snowflake earrings resembled. “To what do I owe this…” She glanced at the ponies he had brought with him. “Interruption?”
 
“As you might have heard, your father has tasked me with investigating the murder of Admanestrator Ponderosa,” Caballus said.
 
“Is that so?” Juwel sauntered around her desk. “I had thought he put you in charge of the demolition of the aerodrome. I was about to congratulate you on a job well done.”
 
“We’ve reason to believe that the culprit visited this establishment before the murder,” said Caballus, unfazed. “And we’d like to review your security data and take a look around. We’ll also need to detain some of your workers for questioning.”
 
Juwel’s ears twitched in barely-contained indignity. “You would disrupt my entire operation? On what evidence?”
 
Caballus held out his hoof. Roughshod placed a small, clear container in it. Inside was the sliver of ruby, suspended in center. “This was found at the scene of the crime. It’s from one of your rubies, a ruby that was cut in your building. I intend to find out how it got there.”
 
“That could have gotten there a hundred different ways,” Juwel scoffed. “My own father visited the Diamantaire that very day. It could have been stuck in his coat and fallen off when he returned to the office.”
 
“Your Father isn’t a suspect,” Corpus said, with a hint of delight. “You are.”
 
Caballus nodded. “Yes, I was talking to him when the Admanestrator was last seen until her… body was discovered. He has an alibi.”
 
Juwel turned up her nose and returned to her desk. “As do I. I was in the ball room the entire night, with a hundred witnesses around me.”
 
“But was your staff?” Caballus pointed to the desk. Hairtrigger flew over Juwel and behind it, plugging a data scroll into its data-link. After a minute under Juwel’s withering glare, the Arbitrotter had two data-scrolls with everything Caballus wanted: security footage, personnel logs, the comings and goings of everypony that had been in the Diamantaire for the last month.
 
He gave one copy to Corpus. “Put this into your forensic cogitator with the Kaufschloss security data. If anypony was here and then there, it could be our killer.” The other copy was for Fyzzix to analyze himself, to see if any other anomalous patterns emerged.
 
“Will that be all, Captain?” Juwel said testily.
 
“I’d like to take a look around your operation here, perhaps question some of the employees, if you don’t mind.” Caballus hoped that the the very act of poking around might cause Juwel to slip up, as it sometimes did for less experienced heretics.
 
“If you… insist,” she replied, nostrils flaring. She plopped down in her desk chair and pointed to the doors. “I trust a captain of your skill can make his way back to the work floor. I have work to do.”
 
During the elevator ride back down, Corpus let out a giggle. “Thank the Princess for you, Captain Corsair. I never thought I would get to see that little horseapple get so angry.”
 
Hairtrigger grinned too. “Yessiree, you got her bridle in one heckuva a bunch! Sure is a hoot working for the… er, for a Rogue Trader.”
 
Caballus allowed himself his own smile, at least until the elevator doors opened. Immediately, all eyes were once again on the four of them. “Round them up,” the Inquisipony said.
 
Hairtrigger and Roughshod went out among the confused workers and ushering them toward the center of the floor. Caballus let the Chief do most of the talking.
 
“Attention citizens,” said the blue stallion to the assembled herd, “I am Chief Constable Habeas Corpus, this is Captain Swift Corsair and his associates, and we’re going to be asking you some questions. Your honesty is paramount. We are here on orders of the Plutarch, who derives his authority from the High Lords and the Princess herself. A lie to us is a lie to the Princess, and such a heresy is punishable by death.”
 
Caballus silently noted which of the ponies were most agitated by the sudden interruption of their work day, and by Corpus’s proclamation. Most had the appropriate amount of anxiety for dealing with law enforcement. Some—mostly the older professionals—were like Juwel, irritated by this meddling in their schedule. A few, though, Caballus kept his eye on. They were afraid.
 
One by one they interrogated the jewelers. The questions were relatively simple: personal information, job description, opinions on Juwel and Meister, and whereabouts on Macsnacht. Caballus himself stood back and let the others work. Corpus played the “good cop;” he seemed to have a certain rapport with the ponies of Pferdian, even those whose loyalties ran against the Plutarch. Whenever the time came to put pressure on them, Hairtrigger had his experience with the Adeptus Arboates, as well as their reputation to draw on, while Roughshod relied mostly on just his imposing size. And his years in the service of an Inquisipony meant he was no stranger to interrogation either.
 
Still, most of them knew frustratingly little. Caballus received the same rehearsed praise of their boss and their ruler over and over, as well as their Macnacht spent downtown, well away from Kaufschloss. And what was worse, he was beginning to think they were telling the truth. At least about Macsnacht.
 
One pegasus caught his notice as she waited her turn. Sweating, fidgeting; there was no mistaking her distress. She was barely more than a filly, and wore a courier’s saddlebag, which she furtively glanced toward every few moments. But fear was to be expected; this was a surprise questioning by authorities with unfathomable power. Or at least unfathomable for the drudging classes like her.
 
But what got Caballus’s attention was the way some of the other workers were afraid for her. Some were deliberately putting distance between themselves and her. Others occasionally looked at one another, and then at her, and then back at one another. Less keen eyes might have missed it, but to the Inquisipony, it was downright sloppy. He waited until Hairtrigger was nearly done with the standard questions.
 
The mare’s eyes went wide as the stallion who had remained silent all this time stepped forward. “Miss, what do you have in the bag?” he said solemnly.
 
Unconsciously, her wing folded over it. “Uh, nothing! I… I mean, just files, sir. I carry the orders f-from the Diamantaire t-to the warehouses.”
 
“Bring it to me.” Roughshod fetched the saddlebag in his teeth. She gave it without much protest, though she grew more skittish with every piece of paper they pulled from the bag. Finally, as Caballus was leafing through a shipment report, a small note slid out from between its pages. He turned it over to read it.
 
The Malign Text. “Heretic.”
 
The pegasus bolted, flying for the exit as fast as her wings could carry her. Hairtrigger took off after her, and the other employees erupted into chaos. Some clearly just panicked, stampeding in all directions. Others, the suspicious ones, made a concerted break for the door.
 
“Them!” Caballus yelled, pointing at the group. Roughshod cut one off, checking him into a grinding machine, and gave chase to the rest. Corpus was bellowing something, trying to regain some semblance of order, but by then everypony was ignoring him.
 
Weaving between equipment at blurring speeds, Hairtrigger closed on the fleeing mare an inch at a time. His augmetic eye calculated speeds and distances, helping him predict her movements and avoid collisions by the smallest of magins. Every time she went up or down, left or right, Hairtrigger mirrored her exactly. He could see her glancing back. They both knew he was gaining.
 
“Just hold on now, little lady,” he yelled, “and ain’t nopony’ll hurt ya.”
 
In desperation, she barreled through a stack of bins containing different sizes and colors of gems. The rain of sparkling stones dazzled the Arbitrotter. He saw flashes of Deep Grabbers and their shard-throwers in his mind, and he threw up his forelegs to protect his face. Suddenly, he was spinning out of control, the rough, uncut gems leaving cuts on his forelegs and back. The last thing he saw before he plowed into the ground was the pegasus bursting through the exit and into the streets of Pferdian.
 
Caballus and Roughshod were having similar difficulties. There were just too many for them to catch. For every pony that was taken down on the run, another three only pulled further ahead. As they reached the doors, he expected they would scatter in all directions, making them all but impossible to capture. The Inquisipony followed them outside.
 
And he skidded to a stop.
 
Every pony that had been fleeing was now standing still, gaping. The pegasus mare was on the ground, squirming under the boot of ebony power armor.
 
“Surrender, faithless dogs,” blared the amplifiers on Sera Phim’s armor, “and you may yet receive mercy.” A dozen of her Battle Fillies had the door surrounded, menacing the astonished ponies with pies and rainers. When they charged a moment later, they met little resistance, beating down the ponies and shackling them with extreme prejudice. In a matter of seconds, the situation was well in hoof, the prisoners being lined up against the Diamantaire’s exterior. Some kicked and snarled and spouted heretical phrases, but most were too shell-shocked by the Fillies’ arrival to do much of anything.
 
Chief Corpus came galloping out the door. “Captain, most of them inside have been—Holy Canterlot! What… what is going on here?” The stallion’s jaw dropped when he saw the Battle Fillies. The warrior-nuns of the Adequa Sororitrots usually elicited such a reaction of equal parts dread and awe from the Princess-fearing populace. Their zeal and prowess were legendary, but as the military wing of the Heliarchy, they were deployed just as often to purge the faithful as they were to protect them. When Sera’s Fillies arrived at the Pferdian Basilica “on pilgrimage,” there had been a sharp uptick of piety and no small amount of worrying.
 
Sera shoved the young courier to her Fillies and trotted over to Caballus. She grinned. “It seems you were right to contact us... Captain. How… fortuitous that we should be visiting Pferdian at a time when the Princess’s servants have need of us.”
 
“You have my thanks… Canoness,” he replied, mindful to use formal titles in public, “for your assistance. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, there’s still one more pony I’d like to take into custody.”
 
“Of course. I’ll begin the prisoners’ confessions,” said Sera. The battle-scarred mare gave Caballus a “just like old times” wink. Even the bounce in her step was downright cheerful as she found the Filly Superior commanding the squad and prepared to torture their captives. Caballus couldn’t help but smile as he remembered all the times they’d interrogated heretics together. She hadn’t changed a bit.
 
Roughshod nudged the Inquisipony out of his thoughts. “Hey, boss, let’s go get Juwel before your special somepony does something stupid,” he said brusquely.
 
From anypony else, Caballus might have taken offense at the remark, but from Roughshod… he held his tongue. Hairtrigger joined them returning to the elevator, the three of them paying no mind the “innocent” workers inside that the Battle Fillies were also rounding up and detaining.
 
When the elevator doors opened, the assistant was cowering behind her desk, ducking as soon as she saw them. Caballus made a note to have her questioned as well. As soon as they stepped into the office again, they came under a barrage of verbal abuse from the youngest Ver Kaufer.
 
“What give you the right to disrupt my business this way? When my father hears of this, he’ll destroy you. You won’t be able to captain a junk-trawler by the time-”
 
Roughshod and Hairtrigger deftly clapped her in irons, much to her surprise.
 
“You can tell him all about it,” said Caballus, “if he ever visits your cell. Though I would imagine he might not; it will be bad enough for his reputation to be father to a heretic without visiting her before her execution.”
 
The mare paled. “M-My execu… Heretic? How can you say such a thing? I’m no heretic! You’re mistaken, Captain. Terribly, terribly mistaken!”
 
“We’ll see,” Caballus said. Juwel could be anything from a mastermind of the Children’s cult, to a lowly pawn, to a bystander caught in their schemes. None of which boded particularly well for Juwel, but he was sure he could tease the truth out of the spoiled aristocrat. Even if said teasing needed to be done with an excruciator.
 
Chief Corpus met them at the bottom floor, out of breath and with terror in his eyes. “Come quickly, you have to stop them!”
 
There was no time to think. Without even waiting for an explanation, the Inquisipony and his team bolted outside, leaving the Constable and Juwel behind. Before they even reached the door, Caballus could see the flashes of light, hear the screams, and smell the scent of ash in the air.
 
The sight that met them was something out of a fevered nightmare. In the middle of the street, the prisoners had been thrown into small groups, where the Battle Fillies were turning their rainers on them. Bound and helpless, the ponies could only shriek in agony as they were engulfed in liquid rainbow and incinerated.
 
The fighting forces of the Heliarchy held Ponythium-based rainbow weapons in particularly high regard among the Equestrian arsenal. The hyper-spicy substance’s tendency to burst into flame was seen as having a purifying effect on its victims, cleansing their bodies and souls of heresy and mutation. From her satisfied smile, it was clear Sera also subscribed to that school of thought.
 
“What are you doing?” said Caballus when he found her, shouting over the roar of the flames. ‘We needed to interrogate these prisoners!”
 
The prismatic lights danced across Sera’s serene face, her gaze never leaving the makeshift pyres. “No need. We questioned them, and thanks to your tenacity inside, they had no choice but to confess their guilt. For their heresies, we put them to the flame, and commended their souls to the Princess’s care. All of them.”
 
Indeed, even as they burned the ponies alive, heretic and innocent worker alike, the Battle Fillies sang hymns of mercy and deliverance. It did little to lessen the pitiful pleas and cries of the last few to be immolated.
 
Roughshod stormed up to the Canoness. In her power armor, Sera was actually just as tall as the stallion, and far heavier; two things that happened only rarely to Roughshod, but did little to dissuade him. “Only a few of them were cultists! The rest weren’t guilty of anything!”
 
Sera turned to face him, her glare suddenly intense. “Everypony is guilty. You’ve been a Throne Agent long enough by now to know that. They may not have profaned the Princess with the same obvious blasphemy of their neighbors, but they were guilty of failing to see the taint in their midst. Ignorance and inaction were their crimes.”
 
With Hairtrigger’s help, Caballus pulled Roughshod away before his friend’s seething temper could boil over. With their rites were complete, the Fillies of Battle had formed up into ranks, awaiting the Canoness.
 
“This was a most productive afternoon,” said Sera, her smile now returned. “I hope I can be of further assistance soon, Captain.” Not even waiting for the fires to die down, she led her Fillies on their march back to the Basilica.
 
After a few minutes, the sounds of approaching sirens filled the now-deserted street. Hairtrigger made an uneasy excuse about going to get Corpus and Juwel, and he went back inside the Diamantaire. Caballus was about to suggest Roughshod join him, but he paused. Since Sera had left, the stallion had been standing like a statue, staring into the flames.
 
“Look, Roughshod,” said Caballus, “if Sera hadn’t been there, all the cultists would have gotten away anyway. Like it or not, we’re going to need her help again before this is over.”
 
Roughshod didn’t look at him. He just kept staring at the fire. Through the fire, to the blackened shapes underneath. The rainbow flames that reflected in his eyes were cold.
 
“The least she could have done was watch them burn.”