//------------------------------//
// Act 2, Chapter 20: Scary Questions, Scary Answers 
// Story: Starlight Over Detrot: A Noir Tale 
// by Chessie 
//------------------------------//


Starlight Over Detrot 
Act 2, Chapter 20: Scary Questions, Scary Answers

            
There have been quite a few times when the diarchs' security was threatened. The events of Luna's Return and the royal wedding of Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor both saw Celestia functionally foalnapped, and that was twice in as many years. Neither Nightmare Moon nor Queen Chrysalis saw fit to kill their captives despite being in an apparent position and having a very strong reason to do so. Chrysalis could have eliminated Celestia and taken her place. In Nightmare Moon's case, one might think such an act would have neatly and quite permanently fulfilled her goals of total control of the heavens.
            
So why didn't they?
            
While there are numerous plausible theories, scholars posit that there are two most likely practical reasons that no Princess has been assassinated despite the wealth of opportunities to have done so: Either alicorns are made of sterner stuff and, while they can be disabled, require substantially more than a bullet or a magic bolt to actually kill... or their would-be assassins have been consistently afraid to do so, in part because nopony has any idea what would happen when the sun and moon are no longer under control.
            
It's true that we've seen what happens when one of the diarchs is out of the picture - a thousand years of peace and prosperity, if not so much progress - but Luna was never really dead; Celestia could well have been utilizing Nightmare Moon's magic from within her lunar prison to keep the moon in motion. While there was a time before the diarchs ruled, the two have held sway over the sun and moon for so long that no one is sure what calamity could occur should even one die. The sun could wink out entirely. The moon could come crashing down on Trottingham and roll across Equestria like an unstoppable runaway ferris wheel. A door could open to a world populated entirely by horrific bipedal monkeys.

Equestria could burn.

To make an attempt on the lives of the Princesses would be to want them dead so badly that one would be willing to risk the world itself in exchange. How fortunate for all of us that the willingness is as rare as the ability.

--The Scholar




While my driver frequently -- despite her purportedly ‘clean’ lifestyle -- drank herself under the table, she’d never handled a good, deep drunk all that well when coming out the other side. Since we’d reached the Nest, she’d done nothing but down hot coffee and glare at anypony who came near. 
        
I provided Swift and Limerence with an edited-for-dignity summary of the events that took place after they left Lily’s room, and I showed them the diary. Limerence tried a number of different spells over the book, none of which would reveal the hidden words. To his understated consternation, not one of them made the tome so much as jiggle.

At last, with the day’s intense emotions worn off, I slumped under the covers on one of the spare beds for a nap, hoping things would make more sense upon waking.
        
****
        
“So, I could believe she’d somehow heard about me on T.V. after one of my cases and if she’d lost her mind, maybe she drew some… association… and all of this was a big coincidence. It might take a couple of drinks and possibly being hit in the head with a hammer, but I could believe it… if she hadn't mentioned being sorry about Juniper." I said, shifting the cord from my chest to the wall socket under one leg and into a more comfortable position. “We need to know how she knows what she knows.”
        
The four of us were gathered around our spool/table in the Nest’s ‘living room.' Three hours worth of sleep hadn’t fixed any of our problems, save that Taxi was no longer making death threats when somepony entered the room.
        
“Short of… time travel, Detective, I know of no method by which this might be done, and even the most effective time-manipulation magics generally lead to self-annihilating closed loops,” Limerence declared. “The last pony who could even cast such a spell was the greatest magician of the last century, and I somehow doubt she is involving herself in this insidious plot. Nonetheless… whether or not this filly is simply mad, clairvoyant, or some combination of the two… we are faced with the same conclusion. The Church are our culprits and the rest of this is entirely speculative distractions.”
        
I picked up the diary and let it flop open to the last page I’d read, putting my hoof on the letters that remained invisible to everypony except myself. I hadn’t gotten time yet to read on, though with a fortifying nap under my belt, I was feeling about ready to have done.
        
“You don’t believe that,” I replied, tapping the open page. 
        
“Not fully, but I will not discount the evidence of my… well, of your eyes, I suppose; this… this filly is frustratingly skilfull with her locking magics,” the librarian exhaled. “But, it is secondary. We will do what we can to discover how she has gained such information, but our primary mission remains the recovery of the Moon Weapons.”
        
Swift frowned at him. “What about the armor of Nightmare Moon?” she asked.

Limerence flicked an ear, irritably. “That armor is of secondary importance to the retrieval or destruction of those weapons.  Incomplete, I do not believe it anything more than a curiosity, and its completion would require thefts from both the most secure vaults of Canterlot and the eyries of the most dangerous griffin tribe-lords.  Luna’s weaponry, which is almost certainly in their hooves at this very moment, is designed for the killing of dragons. It may have significant weaknesses, but in the hooves of religious zealots... well, do you want to bet on whether or not such weapons would work on Princess Celestia?  I would rather not gamble on such a thing.”

That brought me up short. “Wait… you think they could be doing a hit on Celestia?!” I choked. 

Limerence shrugged and dismissed the question with a flick of his blond tail. “Initially, I discounted such a possibility, yes, but our foes have proven themselves extremely clever. The Princess would, no doubt, feel the proximity of such powerful lunar magic well before an assassin could get close enough... unless that, too, has been accounted for in some manner. Do you wish to take that chance?”

I shook my head. “Alright. I’ve still got half a diary to finish. We’re short of time, so whatever move we make, it needs to be tomorrow. If it involves foalnapping Astral Skylark and applying some of that persuasive power you used on Reginald Bari, I’m going to go ahead and shoot myself when we’re done… but our options aren’t looking great.”

“You’re not serious, are you, Sir?” Swift asked, worriedly. “Foalnapping? Shouldn’t we just… I don’t know… Tell the Princesses?”

I put my hoof across my eyes and sighed. “Exactly what do you want to tell them? One of Equestria’s major religions stole Crusades-era weapons and is intent on using them to kill one of the diarchs? Limerence is right. All we’ve got is a lot of speculation,” I explained. “Besides, the second we spill all of this to the Royals, our advantages go away. We have surprise and mobility. If somepony intercepts our message or the Princesses act in such a way as to alarm our thieves, the armor vanishes, the weapons vanish, and our prey can simply wait for a more opportune time. They don’t seem to lack for patience.” 

Taxi, who’d remained silent behind her however-many-cup of coffee said very quietly, “Hardy...what if what we need isn’t in that diary?”

I inhaled, sharply and lifted the book across my hooves. “Ruby… wasn’t insane. I don’t know how I know, but I know. I feel it in my ass.” I gestured at the scales on my hip. 

“You said it, though. What if this is all just speculation?”

“I know what I said! You get an alternative, Sweets, feel free to pop it in the suggestion box. Until then, I have some reading to do.”

****

I don’t know for certain why I chose the most secluded room in the Nest. It wasn’t more than a closet, though there was a bong and lava-lamp we’d missed on our initial cleaning expedition. It just seemed appropriate. 

I plugged the lamp in and pushed the bong into the hallway before dragging one of the bean-bags in behind me, doffing coat and hat, and sliding into a lazy heap on my back with Ruby’s diary balanced on my stomach. 
        
My worries remained as oppressive as ever. If the ponies who’d taken Jade’s daughter decided to jump the gun on hurting her child to assure her compliance, it would leave me once more facing two omnipresent monsters. I had no doubt she’d follow through on her threat to turn me over to them. Her methods might have been some miles beyond the town of ‘Questionable’, but the Chief of Detrot Police was in the position she was in because she could get things done. Her many predecessors had lasted months, if they were determined, or years, if they were utterly corrupt. She’d lasted years on guts, grit, and prescriptions. 
        
Opening the diary, I turned back to the page I’d been on and sighed.
        
“Alright, Ruby. I’m alone. What’ve you got for me?”
        
The letter flickered on the paper, then vanished. Words began to spill down the page from top to bottom. In seconds, the small, jeweled book had filled out. I licked my hooftip, adjusted the lava-lamp so it was over my shoulder, and began to read.        




        Day one of my...new life. 

It’s not really day one, is it? I’ve already gotten one ‘new life’ and poor Crisp almost died because I was thoughtless. Lily always said I should stop and take everything into account. I should have warned Crisp. I should have warned her. 
        
How could I? I had no idea somepony could do such a thing to anyone, much less another pony. 

But… then why does this guilt keep hounding me? 
        
I’ve put the rest of my stuff in storage; everything except this diary, my trunk, and a set of clothes. 

I managed to dissolve my bank loan with less hassle than I’d thought I’d end up with. I owe it to Mister Patty of H-E-L, who said I saved his business and negotiated with the bank manager for me when I told him about my troubles. He didn’t try to stop me. He even agreed this might be safest. He’s got regular guests coming in for the first time in years and he’s hired a half dozen unicorns on staff. I showed him the spell I used. It turns out that spell was part of a text which was thought lost before the Crusades. Our little Dodge Junction library had one of the only copies left in Equestria.

Part of me suspects he took my obligation on himself. 

If I make it big, one of these days, I will send him back that money. 

What am I saying? Make it big? I already tried that. Damn me. I’m still that stupid little girl getting off the bus.

Here I am, then. Another bus station. 

I’ve just gotten off the number six across town. I’m sitting on the steps of the First Church of the Lunar Passage Lunar Memorial Shelter. Silly name, right? The shelter should be...shelter enough. I hope I won’t have to be in a place like this for more than a month or two. I can’t afford to be noticed. 

I’m using the name ‘Charity Soul.' Despite that little piece in the newspaper, nopony seems to have connected me to the girl who owned the Glitterstone. Not surprising, I guess. I look like a ragamuffin. I didn’t think to wash my fur or mane before I got on the bus. 

Right, me, I know. Unwashed and unkempt. Who’d have thought that would ever happen? 

The Lunar Passage says they take anyone seeking redemption. Princess Luna doesn’t seem like an awfully bad pony to seek it from. I know I could go and see her in Canterlot, but maybe that’s not what I need. I know the Princess doesn’t care about me personally, but that doesn’t seem to be what the Church is about. It’s more like it’s about the idea of the Princess’s redemption, rather than the reality. Kind of like my trip to Detrot. 

Alright, I’m here. I may as well go on in. I smell something cooking and after I sent off the cheque to Crisp’s family, I only have a few bits left. I could eat a whole cherry tree about now. 

****
        
It’s been three days. 
        
Day three of my life in the Church. 

Nahhh. I'd rather call it ‘three days later.'
        
I’m going to write to you, Lily, one more time. I feel like writing to somepony and I love you, so listen up!
        
I know this may sound strange, but I am feeling better. I know, right? The guilt has been hanging around my shoulders like lead weights, but each day I’m here, working… it feels less. I don’t like to think about what happened. 

One of these days, I may look up Crisp and go apologize to her in person. 
        
Anyway, the first day I mostly just stayed in the shelter. They gave me a tiny room, barely bigger than the closet at the Glitterstone. It's the best they said they could do, but I don’t really mind. It’s not like I have a lot to put in it. 
        
The building is laid out like my the dorms at Dodge Junction’s little college. I know, it’s not so little to you, sis, but after you spend a bit in the big city, everything becomes small. 
        
Everypony eats together in a big cafeteria. It’s okay, food wise. They even had a cherry cobbler today! Nothing is quite like mom’s, but the chef-pony who works in the back really does like his work. It’s so strange. There are these ponies in blue robes and they smile all the time. It’s not even like it’s forced. They’re genuinely happy to help us. I stood and talked to one of them today while we were in line for dinner. His name was Carrot. No last name, no surname. Just Carrot. Green mane, orange body. Appropriate, I guess, but not super imaginative. 
        
Though what he lacked in originality, he made up for in… sweetness. He was... just sweet. He told me he’d used to be addicted to something called ‘Ace’ and one night, he’d just robbed a house to pay for his...whatever it is. He’d broken a little filly’s piggie-bank for the bits in it and he was sitting in an alley, when he looked up and saw the moon overhead. He said he thought he’d felt Luna, staring down at him, and looking sad.
        
The next day, he returned the money to the girl’s house, apologized to her parents, and let the police take him. He served a few weeks in jail for misdemeanor theft, then went straight to the Church. 
        
It’s so strange. Many of the ponies I’ve met here seem to have similar stories. It’s like this city is looking for redemption and will take it wherever they can find it. 
        
For a church about the story of Princess Luna, I don’t see much of her around here. Sure, there are the blue robes. I talked to the pony running this place about them. Her name is Celestial. You can guess how popular she is, considering I don’t think these ponies like Princess Celestia all that much, but she does her absolute best and that seems to earn respect by itself. She told me the robes are only given to ponies who’ve actually joined the church and been ‘redeemed’ in Luna’s light. 
        
I asked her about that and she said it was just a simple ritual and after I’d been there a few more weeks and maybe done some work with the Church, I might be invited to take part! 
        
The next day, I volunteered in the kitchen, feeding ponies. I might not have yours or Mom’s talent, but I can still make a mean pie when I’ve got some decent ingredients. The chef, Mr. Cast Iron, was glad to have extra hooves behind the stove. My cleansing spell helped with clean-up, too, although cleaning a hotel room or two is nothing to cleaning fifteen or sixteen sinks full of dishes. 

Still, the pain in my horn feels makes me feel…I don’t know. Cleaner. I feel cleaner, for having done it. I feel like Crisp is less hurt, because I’m hurt. 

Yikes. I just read that back to myself. That sounds way too loony for my taste. I’ll do kitchen work, but no more working until my horn aches. That cannot be a healthy way to go about this whole ‘redemption’ thing.

****

Day six, in the Church. 

Odd as it may sound, I’ve found this place more comforting than I thought I would. It’s boring. Frequently dull. It’s certainly not the Glitterstone and I can’t deny, a huge part of me wishes it were. I should have known that just buying a store because some old stallions didn’t want to see their life’s work shut down wasn’t a fluke. Not here. Not in Detrot. 

I… wish I could come home, but I went by the Glitterstone yesterday. I got the funniest feeling of somepony watching me as I walked by, then I saw this stallion in a trenchcoat, reading a newspaper get up off one of the benches in the little park just up the street and start towards me. 

I ran.

I hopped onto the bus just as it was leaving from the corner and when I was looking back, I’m pretty sure I saw him watching me through the buses windows from the sidewalk across the street. I think he might even have been one of those three ponies I saw the first time, when they came in and broke things in my shop, but I couldn’t be sure. 

I can’t come home. I can’t. Not until they’ve forgotten about me. The amount of money they say the owners of the Glitterstone owed was crazy. More bits than I’ve seen in my whole lifetime. 

I’m here now, though. Your past only matters in the Church during group meetings. 

I’ve been working by day in the kitchen, then heading to the garden in the empty lot behind the building in the afternoons, and finally this sort of ‘confessional group’ in the evening where I talk about my life before coming here. I have a lot less to say than most of the ponies who come through. 

For some reason, those group meetings leave me exhausted. Nopony else seems much better, except Celestial, who seems to enjoy them. Still, afterwards, I have the best sleep I’ve had since I left Dodge Junction. 

Tomorrow is Monday, which is some kind of special day for the Church. There’s a big meeting and we’re supposed to sit through some kind of lecture by a pony named ‘Astral Skylark’. She’s a big-wig in the Church. 

I hope it’s not as dull as it sounds. 

****
        
Oh sis! I feel so...alive! 

For the first time in days, I feel genuinely alive and awake!
        
I don’t even know why, but Miss Skylark’s lesson today resonated with me. I wish I could write it all out for you here, but I came away with this really intense feeling of relief. 

‘I am responsible for my actions, but my future isn’t defined by the ones already taken unless I am unwilling to change my course.’ 

That was the gist, at least. I don’t remember much more, although I feel pretty good right now. She talked about Princess Luna and told several stories of the ponies she’d met in the church, then about Detrot and the problems the city has. Afterwards I felt like I’d awoken from a really restful sleep. Not that I was bored. She speaks with such passion. 

I’ve heard she doesn’t like Princess Celestia, but she didn’t talk about her at all. I sort of wish she had. I also want to hear what Celestia has to say for herself, particularly with regards to letting places like Detrot get so bad. I know it’s really far away from Canterlot, but is that really an excuse? She’s supposed to rule everypony, not just those an easy sky-chariot flight away. 
        
Miss Skylark had to depart immediately after she delivered her message to handle some Church business at the museum. I wanted to talk to her and ask her some questions, but I didn’t have time. Maybe the next time she comes to the shelter, I’ll ask her some of them. 
        
****
        
Group confessionals tonight. It’s been two days since Ms. Skylark’s talk and already, I’m wishing I could attend another one. Anything but those damned confessionals, pardon my Fancee. 
        
I talked about home tonight, when my turn came up. Some about you and Mom and Dad. I told that story about when we got chased up a tree when I was six and you were five by that thing we thought was a timberwolf. Remember, it turned out to be the neighbor’s dog who’d gotten out and fell in a bramble bush? The other ponies in group laughed. 
        
Why do these groups tire me out so badly? It wasn’t like we were having a really intense conversation or anything. I come off those meetings with my whole body aching, from horn to hooves. I feel much better in the mornings, but it’s feels like I’ve run a ten mile marathon until then. 
        
I talked to one of the robed ponies, a very pretty mare named ‘Cinder,' and she told me the groups used to make her tired too, but after she took the robes and joined the Church, they became easier. 
        
I’ve decided to volunteer for a couple more shifts in the kitchen. I like the work and it’s time to think. I do feel a little guilty about not using my talent for jewelry, but right now, I hardly want to think about working metal. I can bring out the shine in some of the fruit we grow in the back garden. Maybe that’s what I should be doing with my life. Maybe that’s what I should have been doing, before I left the farm. 
        
I don’t know anymore. The Church makes me feel better and worse at the same time. Mostly better. I’ve got a few more weeks before I can officially join, if I choose to. Once I do, they’ve got businesses who can fix me up with a job. I’ve got to be careful during group not to give any pertinent details. I change the names of places and people. 
        
Nopony will even know who ‘Charity Soul’ was, when she’s gone.
        
I did go back to the Glitterstone again. Disguised, this time. I had to dye my fur with some temporary paints and wear a hoodie I bought from one of the corner stores. 

That stallion with the newspaper was still there, watching the place. He’s got an ugly scar under one eye and a dark orange mane that looks like clumps of it were torn out. He watched me walk up to the door, try it, then walk away. He was definitely watching, though. They’re still looking for me. I don’t even want to think what they’d do if they found me. Probably what they did to Crisp, or worse. 

I peeked in and there’s even a piece of garbage I forgot to throw away before I left, still laying on the floor just inside. Nopony has bought the space in the last few weeks. 

I left soon after that. I don’t need to think about that. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it in group, but maybe in a few nights I might. It couldn’t hurt to have it out of my system. I’ll edit it enough so nopony will know it was me. I still need to tell that story, though.

****

Wow! It’s been a whole three weeks since I updated my diary! My family must be worrying about me. I’ve never been gone for this long without sending them a letter or something. Sure, I mean, there was that time when I was nineteen, but that was just the next county. 

I don’t...really want to think about that right now, honestly. What if Lily comes looking for me? Just the thought gives me a headache. Mom and Dad are getting on in years, and if she leaves right before harvest, the farm will be in bad shape. 

Sis, I know you’ll come eventually, but could you wait just a little while longer? I’ll send you a letter soon! I promise!

I’ve got to keep this diary going or I’ll lose track. Life is so routine here, or at least, it was.

Apparently, somepony talked to Miss Skylark today. Talked about me. 

I’ve expressed to a number of ponies here that I was interested in actually joining the church directly. Today was another of Miss Skylark’s visits. She’s apparently the busiest pony in the world. She goes from one shelter or retreat to the next, day in, day out, talking to ponies about the glories of the Lunar Passage. 

I mostly just work the kitchen, go to group, and listen to the Monday lectures. Not all of them are by Miss Skylark, although she apparently likes to tour the various shelters when she’s available. She might do twelve talks in a day at different places around the city if what Cinder said is right. She also said Miss Skylark also sometimes records her talks and projects herself in other places, using some kind of magic, so it’s hard to know if you’re actually seeing her unless she comes down and talks to ponies there.

Anyway, somepony talked to Miss Skylark today, when she was really here. After her lecture, she came down from the podium and into the crowd. She took me to one side. 

I didn’t realize how young she is. She’s older than I am, but I thought she’d be ancient! You don’t see her up close all that often. 

She has the strangest markings on her face, too. It looks like she’s wearing some sort of hat, except it’s her fur. I asked her about it and she just smiled this very enigmatic smile. We went on a little walk through the garden, just talking. Not rushed at all. I felt so relaxed talking to her. Even my headache, which had been there since I went to group last night, went away. 

She asked me about my life here and I showed her the tomato plants I’ve been cultivating out back. 

Then she asked me something I’ll never forget. 

She asked me what I want. 

Honestly? Since I left the Glitterstone, I wanted nothing more than to be back home. For some reason, when she asked that and I answered, I started crying. I just started bawling, like I did when I was a foal. She’s so… motherly. She reminded me of Mom, just then, in a way that I didn’t even notice until that moment. Her horn was glowing, and she touched me with it and dried my tears, then held me for awhile underneath the apple tree behind the building. 

She asked me about my family, and I told them I hadn’t spoken to you in months. At that, she let out this sort of sigh, patted my hair, and said ‘I’ve spoken to Miss Celestial and she seems to think you’re ready to take the robes. If you want to take the robes, it’s not an easy life, but it is a life of peace. The Church will be your family, and if your born family should wish to join you one day, they will be welcomed.' 

Oh, Lily! I wish you could have been there to see me. 

I’m still smiling, even right now. Really grinning!

I’m going to get to take the robes! She even offered me a place in the church at one of the Convents, if I choose to go. I know it’s ridiculous, but I said yes! Me! A nun! A wife of Luna! 

I’m feeling...elated and a little scared. I don’t know why I said yes, but now that I have, I won’t turn back. One day, Lily, you’ll hear my name and it won’t be as some big show-pony. It’ll be because I saved the world. You better believe it, little sister! I can do more good here than I could ever have done in that little jewelry shop. 

****

Oh Lily, I’ve never been so excited! I’m packing up my diary and I thought I’d just do one last entry. The card I’ve got says mine is room ‘12b’ in the Convent of The Full Moon




The diary entry stopped there, like Ruby had been interrupted halfway through a sentence. I could see the next word, but it was faded into illegibility and the one after was barely a mark on the paper. 

I flipped to the next page, then back to the first, before quickly re-reading that last line. 

“What do you think she meant when she said she didn’t want her sister to read this?”

I jumped about two meters in the air, sending the bean-bag flying against the wall. The book clattered off my chest. If there’d been any more room, I’d have probably injured myself, but in the small closet I only had space to bump into the door, nose first. Clutching at my injured muzzle I glanced around, looking for the source of the voice. I expected to see Limerence or maybe Taxi standing behind me, reading over my shoulder, but there was nopony there.
        
I caught a small motion out of the side of my vision and peered up to at the lava lamp.

Bent across the mirrored surface of the lamp, looking like a carnival mirror attraction, Juniper’s spectral face grinned out at me. 

“I wish you’d go be dead. You’re starting to make me question my sanity,” I said, taking several deep breaths to try to control my heart rate.

“Well, it's healthy that you're at least asking the question,” he replied with a lopsided shrug. “If you weren’t, I might be.”

“Are you still not going to tell me what part of my damaged psyche you represent? Or possibly just how Ruby knew your name?” I asked, sardonically. 

He snorted, which was a strange sound to hear coming from a lava lamp. “If you didn’t have some mystery to solve, you’d go mad with boredom, Hardy. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What, in that book, did the girl not want her sister to see?”

I considered this for awhile, then slid back onto the beanbag. “While I’m talking to myself, I suppose working on the case is a better use of my time than drooling and rocking.” I rested my toe on the last line of the book. “Fine. I’ll bite. If I had to guess, she probably didn’t want her to have the location of the convent. Her sister’s obviously protective of her, even if it took awhile to get her out here. I know those farming families. Leaving at all is tantamount to abandonment, particularly during harvest.”

Juniper shut one eye, whilst the other rolled toward the ceiling. It was a sort of contemplative expression he’d often worn when faced with an especially vexing problem. “Not unlikely, I suppose. Did anything about that strike you as strange?” 

“Should any of it have struck me as normal?” I asked, flippantly. “I don’t know about you, but dead fillies sending me letters with my dead partner’s name in them that had to have been written before she could possibly have met me seems a little ‘strange’, don’t you think?”

His nostrils flared. “Don’t be a wise-ass, Hardy. Wise-asses get shot.”

I tapped my chest. “Already did. It was a less life-changing event than most ponies seem to think and didn’t provoke terribly much attitude adjustment anyway. Besides, you’re one to talk.”

“Hey, you got off easy. Bullet, spray of blood, done.” Juniper sniffed, patting his thick mane with one hoof. His death hadn’t been pretty, but incorporeality had been kind. His mane looked freshly cut and cleaned, like it had every day he was on the job. “Either way, I don’t want to get into a ‘who died more violently than who’ contest with you, because I would win and you’d sulk. Answer the question.”

I gave him my best ‘you’re-dead-and-I-miss-you but-I-wish-you-weren’t so-I-could-punch-you’ look. “Fine. If I had to say, then yes, based on what I know about Skylark and Ruby, something in that was a bit odd.”

“Any...thoughts on what it might have been?”

My patience, already somewhat fractured by a day full of irritatingly dense enigmas showing no signs of coming unwound, finally snapped.

I shoved myself up and grabbed the lava lamp between my hooves. It was quite hot. “Alright! What?! Come on, out with it! What did you see there that I’m not?! I’ve been dealing with enough cryptic crap lately!”

Juniper turned on his heel and trotted into the distance of the bent reflection, flicking his tail in my direction. “You never used to have quite this temper, you know. It’s doesn’t suit.”

I forced myself to breathe and set the lava lamp back on the closet’s little table. “Juniper… I watched you die in the worst way I think a pony can. I made peace-”

“Bull!” he snapped, swinging to face me. “Just bull. You didn’t make peace, Hard Boiled. You crawled into a bottle for two years. You’d still be at the bottom of it if Taxi hadn’t dragged your ass out, and you still drink too much.” 

That was a load of shame I didn’t need just then, but it hit home. I sank onto my haunches and closed my eyes, tightly. 

“Juni, if you’d watched me die like that, what would you have done?” 

His voice was softer when he spoke again, but I still didn’t want to look at him.

“Honestly? Probably the same thing,” he said, with a note of sad resignation. “At some point, you’re going to have to tell that sweet Kid in the other room just what happened, you know. She’s curious.”

I clenched my teeth together and opened my eyes to find him watching me. “My business. Not hers.”

“She’s your partner. Your business is her business. One of these days, it’ll come down to you or her. If you don’t trust her, like I didn’t trust you-” the regret in his voice was thick enough to cut with a knife. “-then one of you dies. Maybe both of you.” 
        
I put my muzzle up on the edge of the table, just a few inches from his image in the glass side of the lamp. “I didn’t know you didn’t trust me.”
        
He let his shoulders sink. “I thought of you as a kid, Hardy. Somepony who needed protecting. Sound familiar?”
        
That realization struck an unpleasantly truthful chord. In all the years we’d worked together, he’d always been the teacher, and I, the student. The idea tasted sour in my mouth, but I couldn’t deny the parallels. Swift was such a kid.

Juniper continued, without waiting for my answer, “Doesn’t matter right now. Like I said before, this case is moving things. You want to know what those things are, you have to stop looking at the immediate. Swift hit on something important with her little question about what would have happened if everything had gone all pear-shaped simultaneously.”

“Fine. While you’re feeling helpful, what did she hit upon?” I grumbled.

“This is a web, Hardy.”

“A… web.” I muttered. That ticked some ethereal box in the back of my head and I wished, later, I’d been a bit more astute at that moment. It might have saved me considerable troubles. 

“You got it.” He sat, pointing at my chest with one hoof. “You, are so wrapped up in the ‘who’ and ‘when’ and ‘where’ that you’re not hunting down the ‘how’ and the ‘why’. You have to ask yourself two significant questions. How did the Church get so big so quickly. and why do so many ponies follow Skylark with such fanatical conviction?”

I blinked, then shook my head as I stared down at the concrete floor between my forelegs. 

“I don’t know.” 

There was no reply. I looked up, and found myself sitting in darkness. Juniper was gone. The lava lamp’s bulb had burned out. 

****

I trotted down the hallway into the living room, diary in my teeth, hat back on my head. Limerence was there, along with Swift and Taxi, as well as an unusual addition to our group; Wisteria was laying on her side beside the spool table, a pillow under her purple neck. They’d moved the latest in a long line of board games onto the floor just so she could play. Her pregnant belly protruded in front of her with a cup of something steaming resting on one side.

The Aroyo’s eyes lit up as I came in and she grinned. “Ah, Crusada! Is good to be seein’ you. I and I was worried ye fell into de bog.”

I snickered and set the diary on the table. “I wasn’t in the bathroom. I’ve been reading… well, reading a thing of importance.” I flipped open the book to the last page with words, then turned to our librarian. “Lim, you remember the names of those five convents?”

“Of course,” he answered, then tugged a notepad from the front of his vest pocket and went down it from the top, “The Waning, the New, the Waxing, the Full-” 

“That one. The Full. Where’s that?” I asked.

“What… Detective, if I might ask, why are we going over this again?” He gestured to the closed vault-like door of the dragon bunker. “To my knowledge, you have not left the Nest and the nearest phone is on the corner. Are you saying you have a lead for us?”

I pointed to the diary. “Ruby spent some time at the Convent of the Full Moon. It’s the last entry, here. I think there might be more, but I’ve no idea how to get into those parts, so we’re stuck with this.”

Taxi’s ears pinned back. “Ruby was a nun?” 

“Seems like it, yeah,” I said. “Might explain that strange alteration to her cutie-mark. The red crescent moon?”

Limerence shook his head. “My research contained a chunk of information on the nunneries of the Lunar Passage. To my knowledge, there is no cutie-mark alteration as an associated requirement for entry into their orders. Granted, this information is limited, but I believe I can say with some certitude that if it is part of a ritual, it is part of one of which the public at large is unaware.”

“To your knowledge?” 

The Archivist’s sneered, indignantly. “Detective, if you are going to ask me to examine information for you, you must trust that I will do so in a thorough and studious manner. If I say such a thing is not the case, then be assured, I have studied every aspect for which there is intelligence available.”

“Alright, alright, no need to get your vest in a twist.” I patted at the air in his direction in a mollifying gesture, and he sank back onto his beanbag chair. “The Full Moon Convent. Where is it?”

“The address is… mmm… number twelve eighteen, Centurion St.,” Limerence replied. “What makes you think that Miss Ruby was kept in the same place as either Cerise or our targets?”

I let my back legs flop out under me, not looking forward to that particular explanation. “I’ve got a good feeling and a ghost who tells me so.”

Three of my friends just looked confused, while Wisteria nodded with quiet understanding. “Crusada, ye be followed by de Loa, den? Daddy Legbaa, mebee?”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with ‘Loa,'” I said

“Dey be spirits o’ de world. Daddy Legbaa be de Loa dat gathers de herd. Loa of sheep and loa of sleepers. He be that which speaks between de spirit world and dis one. Often he come as brother, or father. He be many faced, a sneaking thing. A sheep be only one of de faces on he altar, one name, o’many. Equestrian call him ‘de sandstallion’, or ‘dreamer’. He speak in quiet times, mostly in sleep, but when de mind is calm as well-”

“Oh! Sheep Loa, counting sheep, right… funny!” Swift giggled. 

Wisteria grinned at my partner, then returned her attention to me. “Tell me, Crusada… what be Daddy Legbaa sayin’?”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘Daddy Legbaa’, but I will say this particular spirit says we should be investigating just how the church got so big so fast,” I explained. “Call it a ‘hunch’, if you’d prefer. It’ll certainly make you worry less for my mental health than the truth will.” I reached into one of the pockets of my jacket and pulled out a beaten, battered city atlas, opening it on the table. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the part of the city around Centurion and this map is a few years old. Do you know where this convent is, Taxi?” 

Taxi popped her tongue in her cheek. “I haven’t been that far east in awhile. I know where Centurion is, but that’s a long road.”

I nodded towards Wisteria. “What about the Aroyos? You run the sewers, right? You know where this Convent of the Lunar Passage is?”

The Aroyo ran her tongue around the outside of her top teeth and raised one eyebrow. “I and I do not know de city by such names. What be near?”

Pushing the atlas across the table, I flipped to the index and found ‘Centurion St’, then rain my hooftip down the winding length of a single line several miles east of the Bay of Unity. Wisteria’s lips thinned into a grimace. 

“Crusada...dat be...a place de blue-castle be knowin’ well,” she murmured.

“Blue-castle? The police?” I clarified.

Wisteria’s face clouded with distress as she explained, “Aye. D’ere be only one t’ing on dat street that I and I know has become somet’ing else. We...stay away from dere. Ancestors say, if run there, bad things. De Ancestors say, de girl who come back to us claiming to see demons wid horn and wings… dey say she come from ‘Centurion’.”

“What’s there?” Swift asked, looking over the atlas. 

Pointing to a spot on the map, the Aroyo’s words were laced with fear as she replied, “De old lockaway for dem what flies in fire.”

I squinted at the spot she was pointing to. It was a green blob, stretched over about half a block. “Crusades Memorial Facility for Behavioral Modification?” 

Taxi’s eyes widened with recognition. “No way… Hardy… that’s the name on the sign. Don’t you remember? That used to be Supermax!”
        
It felt, momentarily, like a softball was trying to work itself up my throat. Words logjammed behind it. 
        
“I thought they tore that place down…” I managed, swallowing.
        
Limerence shrugged and adjusted the chain of his pocket watch. It was a self-comforting gesture I’d seen The Don make frequently. “To my knowledge, Supermax itself was never destroyed. It is too far outside of the city center to be useful for construction and -- like many things from the time after the Crusades -- it was simply more efficient to spread around it rather than demolish.”
        
Swift was looking back and forth between the three of us with puzzlement on her face. “Um...what’s Supermax, Sir? It sounds like a big grocery store chain...”

I bit my lip, then exhaled. “It use to be a prison... if you can call it that. It was built during the Crusades to house P.O.Ws. Draconic prisoners, specifically. After the war, it was converted. It became the highest security prison complex in all of Equestria. Not like Tartarus Correctional. Tartarus is a place for reforming beings who’ve strayed.” I gazed at the green blob on the map, wishing the sickening reality away as I went on, “Supermax… was a punishment.”

“What… what happened to it?” she asked.

Taxi sucked at her teeth. “I...didn’t follow the story too closely, but… a couple of years after Hardy and I joined the force, there was this big kerfluffle with city center. Apparently some news pony found out about inequine conditions there and got the Royals involved. Princess Celestia herself intervened to have it shut down.”

I nodded and said, “The Princess paid for the building of Tartarus Correctional on the condition nopony would ever be held in conditions like Supermax. I never did hear what happened to the building once all the prisoners were moved. Ponies who could be sent elsewhere were. It was a place for housing the worst that Equestria could produce; Juniper called it ‘The Hole.'”

My driver’s lips peeled back. “The Hole. Sounds right. It was a place you dropped ponies when you wanted them to disappear. That place made my neck itch.”

“And my cutie-mark,” I added. “Juniper and I were working back then, but the staff were… strange. Cagey. If you needed to meet with a prisoner, you did it in this sort of ‘interview’ booth where you could see them, but they couldn’t see you. They claimed the isolation was part of their ‘treatment.'"

Limerence lifted one ear. “This location is… obliquely familiar. Were there not also some concerns about prisoner riots of some sort?”

“Concerns, yes,” I recalled. “With so many of our worst in one place the Royals thought it must be a powder keg. Funny thing; I never heard of any actual riots there. Granted, the guards were under about twelve kinds of non-disclosure agreement, but that was one of the things that turned heads, when that journalist did his ‘expose.' No prisoner violence at all.”

“Ahhh, yes. I believe I remember reading that particular exposition during my father’s teachings on the dangers of public opinion.” Limerence mused. “That journalist… he produced a great many photographs of listless prisoners, unlit cells, limited food supplies… It unseated half of the city-council, and the construction company behind it ‘ceased to be,' if I am remembering correctly.”

“They’d apparently broken a whole raft of building codes in constructing the place, not to mention something that got the Academy involved. The executives did a runner. Never did hear if they got caught,” I commented, grabbing a chair with one hoof and dragging it over so I could sit. 

Taxi glanced over at Wisteria. “When did the Church take over? I mean, considering what we know about Miss Skylark’s past, it makes a kind of sense she’d want to make a prison into something better, but I never heard of somepony building a convent in a prison.”

“I and I do not know,” the Aroyo murmured. “Dey come some year ago. Like many an evil t’ing in dis city. It do not die, but only sleep. We do not run dere. We never run dere. De sewer beneath is full of t’ings best not mentioned. Traps for the unwary, and always de feeling ye fly against strong wind.”

“Hmmm…”

Fear hadn’t made Wisteria’s accent any less incomprehensible, but enough time in the Aroyos' presence let me get the gist. ‘Convent bad.'

I pointed at Limerence with one toe. “Pop Quiz, genius. If I wanted to keep something secure and secret, particularly something that was especially dangerous and likely to get me killed if I were found out, what are the safest places in all of Detrot?”

The Archivist searched the upper left corner of the room for the answer. “Legitimately safest and most secure? In all likelihood, Stella’s hoard, The Castle, The City Morgue, The P.A.C.T. building, The Shield Corporation HQ, Archive Librum Number Ten, and…” 

“-Supermax.” I finished for him. “And if I’d say, stolen the psychotic Chief of Police’s daughter, a pack of moon-based death rays and a piece of the most famous armor in Equestrian History?” 

“Ah,” was all he said.

Taxi’s ears drooped against the sides of her head. “Hardy… you cannot possibly be thinking what I am absolutely positive you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, yeah, I kinda am.”

“I’m starting to feel like a broken record here...” she muttered. 

“You don’t need to say it, Sweets. Believe me, breaking into Supermax does not appeal to me either, but we don’t have time on our side. If the Church is keeping Cerise there, we need to move now. We need information, we need resources, and we need a plan.”

There was a long, agonizing silence. A significant part of me was hoping somepony would be able to come up with something. 

Wisteria’s mouth slowly slid into a grin and she stroked her thick belly. “I and I must be growing old, Crusada. I forgot, for a moment, why de Ancestors like ye.”

“Oh? They like ponies with a masochistic streak, then?” I chuckled, weakly. 

“Oh, no… dey likes ponies dat make good stories! I and I will look forward to telling dis one.”

 ****
        
Once Limerence and Swift acclimatized to the idea, and my driver went through her typical phases of ‘total refusal to participate,' ‘smacking me with pillows,' ‘cussing like a drunken sailor,' and finally ‘demanding to know what I needed her to do,' we got on to the work at hoof. 
        
****
        
The little black walkie-talkie squawked at me, then buzzed for several seconds. 

“Detective Hard Boiled? Is this thing working? Can you hear me?” Cereus asked through the device’s speaker. 

“I read you, Cereus,” I replied, holding down what I hoped was the ‘send’ button and not ‘implode the planet’.

“Oh, Detective! Whew, it’s so good to hear from you! I was getting seriously worried. Could you give me a second?” I heard shuffling in the background, some half-heard words, and a low, angry hiss, followed by a shrill female voice.
        
“Detective Hard Boiled! How did you get the other one of these?!” Agent Night Bloom shrieked up the mic at me. “I demand you return it to the warehouse immediately!”
        
“Sure. I’ll just pop on over and do that right this instant.” 
        
Several quiet seconds.
        
“What do you want, Detective?” the dusk pony growled. I heard something rattle over the mic… yep, I knew that sound. That was an ice-pack shifting.

“Still hung over, huh?” 
        
“Yes, dammit! Speak! What do you need?!”
        
I couldn’t help needling her just a little. “You know, a good friend of mine says a bacon sandwich helps with that.” 
        
I thought, briefly, we must have lost connection. 
        
“You are a sick little pony, Detective…”
        
“Fully aware.” I chuckled. “Anyway, Agent Bloom, I need your help. Specifically, I need that enchanted map you’ve got on the wall down there again.”
        
“What?! Again?!” she snapped, then, without waiting for my answer, she shouted away from the microphone, “You damned flying rat! You let him use the surveillance functions in Survey?! I’m going to use your fangs to pick mud out of my hooves when I’m done here!”
        
I heard somepony squeak and then retreating hooves, before Bloom returned to the walkie-talkie, still cursing, “...stupid fast little bastard… rip his ears off and let’em try to night-fly…” Then, she addressed me. “Detective, you are not permitted access to our systems! I should not even be talking to you right now-”
        
“Miss Bloom-” I interrupted her. “-if you want a career tomorrow or ever, you’ll go stand in front of the map.”
        
I said it coolly, calmly, and with all the quiet reserve I could muster.
        
Again, the shocked silence. Then, in a weaker voice, she said, “Detective, I’ve got protocols...”
        
“Which you are so far outside of you don’t even appear in the same postal code. I need your assistance if you want that armor back. I have reason to believe there may also, potentially, be a set of lethal weapons in possession of some very dangerous ponies who may mean Princess Celestia harm. You want my information, you will help me. Do we understand one another, Agent Bloom?”
        
The only way I knew we were still on the line was because I could hear a shuddering breath every few seconds. Gradually, the breathing steadied. When Bloom came back, she sounded shaken. 
        
“I’m… I… uh… Detective? I’m in front of the map. Who… um… who is going to hurt Princess Celestia?” she stammered. 
        
“I didn’t say you got my information right now. I just said you got it. Now, what I need-”
        
“Wait! Wait, no. What am I doing?! Detective, who is going to hurt the Princess?! I need to know! They won’t ignore my calls if I say there’s a threat to the Princess!” Night Bloom snarled.
        
“It’s the Church of the Lunar Passage,” I murmured.
        
“What?!” 
        
“You asked. Now, are you standing in front of the map?” 
        
“Back up, numbnuts! A bunch of misguided, fanatical crazies working on their own to steal a relic of Luna’s is one thing! A regional religion trying to kill Princess Celestia is something else entirely! I can’t take that to my superiors! They’ll laugh me out of Canterlot!”
        
“Exactly.” 
        
Night Bloom paused. 
        
“Aaand that’s the point, isn’t it?” she grumbled. “I take this to Canterlot and you’re wrong, my career dies. And even if you're right, then the armor is lost when those incompetents at central office try to investigate and end up raising a ruckus, so any would-be assassins vanish… and either way, we find nothing and I get a forcible retirement as the laughing stock who claimed there was a plot by a major religion to kill Princess Celestia.”
        
“You put that together right quick, didn’t you, Agent Bloom?” I said, unable to keep the smile on my face from leaking into my words.
        
She groaned into the walkie-talkie. “Damn you, Detective. One day, when I am back behind my nice, safe, comfortable desk, I am going to find a way to ruin your tax return…”
        
“My apartment burned down and all my tax records for the last ten years were incinerated in magical fire. I look forward to seeing just how deep a forensic audit can go. For now, information. Can that map of yours get us some images of the Convent of the Full Moon?” I asked. 
        
There was a sigh, then the faint click of buttons being pressed. 
        
“Let me check this damn thing.” she grunted, then was quiet for some time. “Convent of the Full Moon… I don’t have that listed here. Is it under a different name?” 
        
“Try ‘Supermax.’” 
        
More typing noises. More waiting. 

“Huh… yeah, we’ve got a location of a place by that name. There’s a few exterior images from a telephone pole across the street. Looks like a few ponies coming and going. Gosh, that’s one ugly building…” Bloom talked to herself as she fiddled with the map device. “Okay, okay, I’ve got one sensor in a sort of ‘reception’ office. Pictures of Princess Luna everywhere and what might be some kind of secretary wearing a blue sheet covered in sequins. Then there’s a few in something that look like...dorms or something. Detective, what is this place?”
        
“It’s a convent, like I said.”
        
“Oh… right.” Her voice had some wariness in it as she added, “It doesn’t look like a convent. Looks like a prison, to me...”
        	
“Funny you should mention that. Can you see if there are any secret passages or anything of that nature?” 
        
“Oh, goodie, Detective calls up the ‘spy’ to get him a secret passage. Maybe next I’ll pass you a code with my super-secret decoder ring, then fly my ass to the Moon.”
        
“Dammit Bloom, just look!” I barked. “I don’t need guff, I need help! Now look at the building. Secret passages?”
        
“Fine, fine, have your fantasies,” Agent Bloom replied, then paused while the map did its thing. “Well… this is odd.”

“Don’t be mysterious,” I growled. “You’re crap at it.”

I could almost hear the dusk pony’s hackles rising. “You-...I’ll have you know, I was first in my class in document obfuscation, redaction, and tactical misfiling! I am very good at being mysterious!” she barked at me. 

“Says Miss ‘Doesn’t-lock-the-interrogation-room-door’?”

I could hear breath hissing between her fangs. At least, I tried to pretend that’s what the sound was. It sounded more like venom eating into the case of a device with the potential to destroy a sizeable chunk of our planet. When she spoke, it was in a voice full of barely restrained fury. “You…”

“Yes, me. Now what’ve you got?”
        
Agent Bloom sat there for a moment, trying to think of something else to say before heaving a defeated sigh. “Piss on you. Fine. Most of the time, if we’ve got sensors in a building, they’re everywhere inside. There’s maybe… I count ten inside this prison. Tops.” Bloom muttered. “If you want more, you’ll have to wait, because my files on this place are incomplete and covered in coffee stains.” 

I jerked my head back from the black box’s speaker as the dusk pony shouted at the top of her lungs, “Cereus, you chicken shit! Get down from the rafters and get to doing the ‘clerical’ part of being a damn clerical intern!”
        
I heard Cereus in the background somewhere sigh, “Yes, Miss Bloom…” 
        
I waited, tapping my toe on the table. I could hear the shower running down the hall and some delicious smell coming from the Nest’s kitchen, with only a hint of ‘burned celery’ to give it spice. Limerence was off somewhere consulting the Archive’s libraries on the topic of Supermax, so I assumed it to be Swift in the shower and Taxi, once again, experimenting in the canteen.
        
Across the quantum tunnel linking our two walkie-talkies, Cereus and Night Bloom hunted through what sounded like an avalanche of decade or more old files. 
        
Several minutes later, the speaker crackled and Agent Bloom’s voice came back. 

“Detective?”
        
“I’m here.”

“I don’t know what you want there, but if my files here are accurate, that place was a deathtrap when it was a prison.”
        
“A deathtrap?!” I exclaimed. “But… I was working for Detrot Police Department when it was shut down. I don’t remember anything about that. If I remember, it was really peaceful for a prison. That was what brought attention in the first place.”
        
“It’s not surprising you wouldn’t have heard. The records were buried. These are incomplete, but… if these records are even remotely accurate, there was a suicide rate amongst the inmates you would not believe.”

“Suicide… rate? Seriously?”

“You heard me right. The entire core of the building is a magical construct. It was designed as some kind of… prisoner punishment and reward system. They were supposed to have shut it down when the dragon’s P.O.W.s were all released, but it turned out they were still using the wretched thing. On ponies. That’s what prompted the shutdown.”
        
“What… sort of ‘reward and punishment’ system are we talking about here?” I asked.
        
“The details in my file are sketchy...”
        
“Sketchy? Sketchy is not what I want to hear, Bloom! I want specific. I want magnificent details. Don’t give me sketchy!”
        
“Hey, you want better, you go down there and take a look around yourself!" she snapped. "That’s what I have! The Royals found out the prison was still using this thing, the Academy went in to shut down the magical construct, and it’s been empty ever since by order of the city!” 
        
“Alright, alright, don’t get your feathers in a bunch-”
        
“I don’t have feathers, you insufferable bell-end!”
        
I chewed on the words ‘insufferable bell-end’ for a second, then shook myself. “Fine. Give me the rundown then. Points of interest?”
        
Agent Bloom drew in a breath, then continued more calmly, “Hmmm...a few, although these are mostly on the blueprints, which don’t seem to be entirely accurate. Top floors are mostly maximum security cells, then there’s a basement which is labeled ‘Arcane Control Level,' then something below that which is called ‘Secure containment.'”
        
“Secure containment. Don’t like the sound of that.”
        
“You shouldn’t. There’s a few sewer lines running parallel to the sub-structure, but if you’re hoping to sneak in via the sewers, can I recommend against it?”
        
“Why is that?” 
        
Cereus, who was still looking over the files, must have grabbed the walkie-talkie from Night Bloom, because his voice came over the mic, “Sweet Sky! Detective, that whole area is monitored by a network of alarms, and they didn’t disassemble the prison’s defense systems! The nicest stuff down there is heavy neurotoxin launchers made for disabling dragons!”        

There was a scuffle, then a squeak of pain, then Agent Bloom’s voice. “That’s what you get for snatching things, dummy!” 

Cereus whimpered in the background, “You didn’t have to pinch me…”

“Go clean a shelf or something!” she snarled.

The intern made a noise like a smacked puppy and I heard wingbeats in the background.

Bloom took a moment to compose herself, then picked up the walkie-talkie again. “Right, pardon me there, Detective. Issues in the chain of command. May I recommend against the sewers?”

I cocked one ear closer to the black box. “Have you got any good options for me, then?” 

“Nothing… brilliant, I’m afraid. Damn. Based just on the images from what few sensors we’ve got, there might be something below Secure Containment. I couldn’t tell you precisely what, but it’s not a small space.”

“How do you figure?”

“I think I’m reading this correctly. Mind you, my degree is in espionage, not architecture,” she muttered. “These blueprints are the ones originally logged with the city and they don’t seem to be entirely accurate. Some of the rooms are… erm… bigger than the blueprints say they should be. I’ve also got eyes on a stairwell I’m pretty sure isn’t on paper. The whole damn building is like that.”

“Strange. What about the architect? Any information on him or her?”

Bloom hummed briefly. “Let me...oh! Yes, I’ve got...well, I’ve got something here. The pony who designed this place wasn’t just an architect. If this file is right, she was the Chief on-site psychologist, too.”

“A shrink designed the building?”

“Under direct orders from the Royals to find a way to contain the dragons, yes. They apparently gave her considerable leeway and resources.”

“Oof… my day keeps getting better and better,” I grumbled.

Bloom ignored my complaining as she continued reading, “Let’s have a look, shall we? Here we go… Yeah, this is it. She developed ‘treatments’ they used to keep the draconic prisoners pacified… Grisly stuff, from the looks of it. She worked there for several years, then when the P.O.W.s were released and later, when the shutdown came, the Royals apparently got wind of just how far she’d taken her ‘orders’ during the war. When Supermax was closed, she was tried for war crimes.”

“Wait, how come I’ve never heard about any of this? Somepony being tried for war crimes on this scale in my city would have made the news or something!”

Bloom whistled softly, “You’d think but- Oh, by Luna's flank...”

“What? What is it?!”

“Detective… this pony was… former Royal Guard! She got a military tribunal, headed by Luna herself!”

“But… I thought it was Celestia who shut that place down?”

“Celestia’s name was on the shutdown orders, but if what this says is right, it was Luna who made it happen.”

I took a few breaths to try to realign my worldview a little bit. Seeing the Princesses involved in such things was hard, considering they were often held up as paragons of equine virtue. 

“So...where is this architect now?” I asked, trying to re-order my thoughts. 

“Tartarus Correctional,” Agent Bloom replied, to the sound of scattering parchment. “Life sentence.”

“Right...that...hmmm… That meshes with something else I’ve heard lately about Miss Skylark. Alright, send Cereus with the blueprints to the outside of The Skids. Have him come disguised, or at least, wearing something to cover up his ears and wings. Tell the guards there he’s coming to see ‘Crusader’. They might not let him through, but if he tells them to give me the documents, I’ll get them.”

“I’m not giving sensitive M6 documents to an intern to deliver, much less your hoodlum friends!” she protested.

I rolled my eyes and said, “I’ll be waiting. By the way, what’s that architect’s name?”

Night Bloom snorted, “You insult my skills as a spy and you expect all of this help and offer me nothing. Why should I even tell you?”

“Because you’re a career minded, emotionally unstable mare dragging herself through the depths of a red-tape jungle in the middle of nowhere with no resources besides one puke green rookie and a cop whose life can probably be measured in hours.”

I swear, I heard her fangs grinding together.

“If...I ever...get my hooves around your throat, I’m not sure what I will do, Detective...”

“Kiss me, bite me, kill me?”

“Two out of three, yes. The Architect’s name is ‘Saussurea’.”

“Thank you for your time, Agent.”

I’d already tucked the walkie-talkie away before I thought to ask ‘which two’ she meant

****

“Sweets?” 

“Yeah?! Just a minute! I’ve got to get this before it boils over!”

“Alright, no worries. You think you got a road trip in you?”

“Road trip? Are you out of your mind? We’ve got to move on the Church before Jade gets antsy, homicidal, or parental!”

“I think you just described her entire lifelong demeanor, Sweets. Now you mention her, though, I need to stop by the Castle and drop off a message on the way out of town. We may need some ‘expanded permissions’ where we’re going. Anyway, It’s short road trip and we need additional information. You up for a drive to Tartarus?”