The three mares materialized with a bang of crinkling tinfoil, and found themselves in the middle of a grand hall illuminated by stained glass windows. There were tall double doors at either end. The trio examined their surroundings; they appeared to be alone. That was good: ponies were typically only checked when they entered the castle; their presence was less likely to be questioned now that they were inside.
"Well that was easy," said Scootaloo, looking to her companions.
"Darn, I forgot my toothbrush," spat Apple Bloom.
"Hey Scootaloo," said Sweetie Belle, "You look a little shorter."
"You do too," said Scootaloo, "Weird."
"It must be the high ceiling," said Apple Bloom, "Let's get goin-" She started to turn, but found herself unable to move. Glancing down, she discovered that her hooves were embedded in the floor, the lowest few inches of her legs stuck beneath the tiles. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle appeared to be similarly afflicted. "Damnit, Twilight!" Apple Bloom exclaimed.
"Okay, don't panic, don't panic," said Scootaloo, "I'll just turn us ethereal and get us out. Just sit tight for a few minutes."
"We don't have a few minutes!" said Apple Bloom, "If somepony walks in here, we'll be pretty conspicuous."
"Here," said Sweetie, "I know a shortcut with that spell." She closed her eyes and lit her horn, appearing to muster great concentration. "You just have to invoke the right titles of Xrlikmnop." After just a few seconds, Scootaloo's figure became translucent. She was lifted out of the floor and placed aside. One of the holes she had stood in sprouted a few small writhing tentacles, but Sweetie casually vaporized them with a lighting bolt. "Nothing to it."
"Hrmm," said Scootaloo, "Yeah, I think I get how that would work." Without another moment of hesitation she lit her ears, and after a few quizzical expressions she managed to extricate Sweetie. "Neat. I'm definitely going to remember that one."
"How did you do it without the tentacles?" asked Sweetie.
"How did you do it with the tentacles?"
"I'm pretty sure it comes from the evocation of the Undying Horror."
"Oh, I didn't use that one; I used the evocation of the Elemental Confusion."
"Hrm.. Actually, I think that-"
"A-hem," interrupted Apple Bloom.
"Whoops," said Scootaloo, "Sorry, 'Bloom." One hasty spell later, and Apple Bloom was free.
"So what's the plan?" she asked, "We should probably try to find the kitchens."'
"How are we going to do that?" asked Sweetie, "This place is huge. I'm guessing."
"I guess we'll just have to find somepony we know, and ask them for directions."
"Who do we know in here?" asked Sweetie.
"Uh... The princesses, I guess."
"They shouldn't be too hard to find," added Apple Bloom, "This place kind of revolves around them, so..." she trailed off.
"Sounds like a plan," said Scootaloo, "Let's take a look around."
The trio made their way way through one of the tall, heavy sets of doors and began to wander. They decided that it would probably be a bad idea to ask for directions, since it might give away their trespassing. Serendipity was with them though, and after almost an hour of searching Apple Bloom noticed the tip of what she thought was Princess Luna's tail receding past a corner. They hurried to catch up, and found themselves face-to-face with a startled Luna.
"Luna!" exclaimed Scootaloo, "We've been looking all over for you."
"Who are you?" asked Luna, "and what is the nature of your distress?"
"Who are we?" repeated Scootaloo, "I'm Scootaloo, and this is Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. Don't you remember us?"
"Hrm," said Luna, tapping her chin in thought, "Those names do sound very familiar."
"I'm Applejack's sister," said Apple Bloom.
"And I'm Rarity's sister," said Sweetie.
"Ah, yes, of course!" said Luna, "How could I forget the Cutie Mark Crusaders? Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle... and that must make you the Pegasus with the magic."
"Yup," said Scootaloo, nervously rubbing her scalp, "that's me!"
"I apologize for not recognising you immediately," said Luna, "You mortals just grow up so fast... Well, it's good to see that you don't need a common lack of cutie marks to enjoy each other's company.
"Yeah. It must be that friendship stuff at work again," said Sweetie Belle with a smile, "And hey: it's okay if you didn't remember us."
"Yeah," said Apple Bloom, "we understand that things must be a little different for you."
"No, I do remember," said Luna, "I had just... forgotten." She paused for a moment, clearly unwilling to forgive herself. "So, how can I help you?"
"Well, uh, do you know anything about a ghost in the kitchen?" asked Scootaloo. Luna burst into a loud guffaw.
"Ghost?! Hah! Yes, I know of the ghost." she said.
"So it's real?" asked Apple Bloom.
"Oh, certainly not," said Luna, "It's just a bit of... culinary folklore. The Creature of Canterlot, they call it." The three mares in front of her lost their smiles. "Oh," said Luna, "Is that what you were here for? I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"I told you it was money-laundering," muttered Apple Bloom. Scootaloo shot her a look.
"Money laundering?" asked Luna, "How does that pertain to ghost stories?"
"Okay," said Scootaloo, "Here's the story: apparently you guys are letting Twilight oversee Canterlot Castle's budget this year, and-"
"This year?" inquired Luna, "I assumed she had been doing it for the past decade, at least."
"Well," said Scootaloo, "apparently not. Anyway, she found some kind of problem with the kitchen's budget. She said that they were spending too much money on pastry ingredients. She sent a note to the kitchen asking about it, and she got this in reply." Scootaloo picked out of her pocket the scrap that Twilight had shown her earlier and handed it to Luna. Luna squinted at the letters, apparently trying to decypher the scribble.
"It says the ghost eats it," said Sweetie Belle, trying to be helpful.
"Yes I can see that," said Luna, "I'm sure I know who wrote this; I'd know that penmareship, or lack thereof, anywhere. Our head chef: Mincing Machine. He's a good cook, but a terrible teller of tall tales." Sweetie smiled at the alliteration, and Luna gave a little chuckle in response.
"Well, it's kind of our job to be sure," said Scootaloo, "Could you tell us where the kitchens are so we can see for ourselves?"
"You job?" questioned Luna, "is that why you are wearing those matching coats?"
"It is," said Apple Bloom.
"It's an unusual uniform," said Luna, "did you say you work for Twilight Sparkle now?"
"Not exactly," said Sweetie.
"The Center for Magical Curiosities, at your service," said Scootaloo, giving a half-serious bow.
"The Center for Magical Curiosities? I don't believe I've heard of it," said Luna.
"Yeah, well, it's us," responded Scootaloo.
"Hrmm." It took Luna a moment to figure out what Scootaloo meant, but she smiled when she did. "Very enterprising. It's always good to see ponies growing up and putting the entrepreneurial spirit to good use. Well, if it is your job and you're doing it for Twilight Sparkle, I suppose I have no choice. Follow me." Luna turned and led them down the passage. They followed her through a maze of rooms and corridors, some spectacularly grand and some clearly more behind-the-scenes. In the carpeted and tiled areas, guards lined the walls and doorways. They stood stoically, eyes forward, hardly even blinking. As they progressed into stone-walled, torch-lit areas, the guards became more infrequent, and eventually they were replaced by service and maintenance ponies hurrying about their tasks. They responded to Luna's nods with friendly greetings and nods of their own.
"So Luna," said Scootaloo, "I always thought you slept during the day."
"I do," replied Luna, "In fact I was en route to my bed when you found me."
"Oh, sorry. We didn't know we were keeping you awake."
"It is not a problem," said Luna, "after all, you do not go to bed as soon as the sun sets do you?"
"No, but I also don't get up when it rises."
"Fair enough. I suppose I just don't need that much sleep. Everypony's different. Ah, here we are." It had taken them almost ten minutes but they finally arrived at the kitchens. They pushed through a set of free-swinging doors into the massive workspace. It was, as they had expected, huge. There were seven lines of workstations with ovens, broilers, and stoves towards the back, garnish stations at the front, and general-purpose stations in between. There was a bit of a lull in activity between breakfast and lunch, so only the middle line had ponies stationed at it. Four ponies unhurriedly prepared cucumber sandwiches and fruit platters. To their right, in a corner of the room, a stallion was speaking sternly into a wall-mounted telephone. Luna gave a nod towards him and started walking in his direction.
"No, no, listen to me," he was saying, "... I don't care how many bottles of it exist! You get me three of them, capish?... This is what I pay you for! ...Well I believe in you..." With a final exasperated grunt he slammed the phone back onto it's base. He looked up to see whose hooves he had heard approaching and gave a little start when he noticed Luna. He whipped his chef's hat off of his head out of respect. He was a unicorn, like most of the castle's staff. He was middle aged and somewhat overweight, with a short unkempt beard growing on his neck: he was the very picture of the overworked chef.
"Is there a problem?" Luna asked.
"Certainly not," he replied, "I was just doing a little motivational speaking."
"I see," said Luna, "Mincing Machine, this is Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom, from the Center for Magical Curiosities. They've come to hear your ghost story."
"It isn't my story. And it isn't just a story!"
Luna rolled her eyes and yawned. "Well, I'll leave you to it." She turned and walking out through the swinging doors. Mincing Machine swiveled to face the three mares.
"I'm glad that somepony finally got some professionals onboard with our problem. You wouldn't believe how much it's costing us."
"Two hundred thousand bits a year?" said Sweetie Belle.
"Heh, just about." responded Mincing Machine.
"That's actually what brought us here," said Apple Bloom, "We were sent by the pony in charge of the castle's expenditures when she noticed the abnormality. We're here to see just what's costing the taxpayers all that money."
"Oh yeah," said Machine, "You must be the ones who sent me that little letter yesterday. I think I sent you a short response; I don't really remember. I was very busy."
"Oh, no, that wasn't us," said Sweetie, "but it was the pony who sent us here."
"Well, I'm actually not the pony to talk to about this," said Machine, "you should talk to our head pastry-chef, Pastry; it's really his problem."
"Excuse me," said Apple Bloom, "Your pastry chef's name is Pastry?"
"Well," said Machine, "his full name is actually Pastry Chef, but that got a little weird, so he asked us to just call him Pastry."
"Yeah, I can imagine how that would get weird," said Scootaloo.
"I guess it is appropriate, though," added Sweetie, "his name, I mean."
Mincing Machine shrugged. "Well, I actually have some ponies to meet with right now, but the pastry kitchen is right through those doors," he said, indicating another set of swing-doors at the far end of the kitchen. He redirected his attention to a notepad on a nearby table and started to scribble notes on it in a familiar, barely-legible font.
"Okay. Well, thanks," said Scootaloo.
Mincing Machine nodded, not taking his eyes off his work.
The trio turned and walked to the doors he had indicated. They stepped through them and found themselves in a whole nother kitchen. This one was much smaller than the main kitchen, though it had a similar layout, with two lines instead of seven. Only a single pony occupied this room: a young, beige unicorn. His mane and tail were a lighter, somewhat silvery shade with small pink patches, giving him a distracting resemblance to a doughnut with white frosting and sprinkles. He sat in a chair at the far end of the kitchen. He had been reading a magazine, but looked up when he heard hoofsteps. A bottle of what appeared to scotch floated next to his head, clashing with his silly, frosted-dessert-esque appearance. "Yeah?" he said to the trio. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle chose the same moment to open their mouths.
"Are you the Pastry Chef?" asked Sweetie.
"Are you Pastry Chef?" asked Apple Bloom.
"... Yes," he responded, "call me Pastry." He took a swig from the bottle.
"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" asked Scootaloo.
"Not if you've been awake since four-AM," he retorted, "Whaddaya want? If this is about Shady, she just works here. I don't have anything to do with her; I didn't see anything; I don't know anything-"
"That's not why we're here," said Scootaloo.
"It might be," whispered Apple Bloom.
"Mr. Chef-"
"Pastry," he corrected.
"Pastry," said Scootaloo, "We're from the Center for Magical Curiosities. We heard that you've been having a problem with a ghost?"
"Finally!" exclaimed Pastry, throwing his hooves into the air. He put down his magazine and bottle, stood up, and started walking towards them. "I thought they'd never listen," he said.
"Who's 'they'?" asked Scootaloo.
"The bosses," said Pastry, "Pretty much everypony above the Machine. I've even had Princess Luna in here; I've shown her, but she just laughs."
"Shown her?" said Scootaloo, "Shown her the ghost?"
"Naw," said Pastry, "'shown her that." He nodded, indicating the wall next to the door they had entered through. The CMC was perplexed by what it saw. Against the wall was a floor-to-ceiling cooling rack. On the rack rested half a dozen cakes of various sizes and persuasions. Only one of them was intact; the rest had been nibbled, munched, partially eaten, or wantonly destroyed. "There were forty-four cakes on that rack last night," said Pastry.
"What happened to them?!" asked Sweetie.
"The ghost," said Pastry matter-of-factly.
"The ghost eats it," Scootaloo recited from the note Twilight had given them.
"So," said Apple Bloom, "You're saying that every night a ghost comes and eats very cake you've made?"
"Not every cake," said Pastry, "We need about fifteen cakes a day, and the ghost usually eats about twenty-five. The only way to meet our cake-quota is to bake enough for the ghost and ourselves."
"So you're making three times as many cakes as you normally would..." said Scootaloo.
"Yup," said Pastry.
"So you only have one cake today?" asked Sweetie, "was today really exceptional or what?"
"No, I baked that one this morning," said Pastry, "That's what we have to do if we need a specific cake; that one's a birthday cake for one of the butlers, see?" He levitated the cake down so they could read it's decoration: Happy Thirtieth, Jeeves! "All the intact ones are moved to the refrigerator in the morning."
"And the others...?"
"Most are just gone. Some end up like that," he said, indicating the mutilated cakes, "I usually clear them away, but I haven't gotten around to it yet today."
"And this ghost," said Scootaloo, "has anypony ever actually, ya know, seen it?"
"Yeah," said Pastry, "Floral Flourish did. She had this job before me. When the ghost started showing up, she thought she's get to the bottom of it and, well, now I'm here."
"You mean she left because she was scared away by the ghost?"
"Yup. She told me when she left that I should pray never to see the creature. We all took her word for it, and we've been baking our way around the problem ever since."
"Do you know where she is right now?" asked Scootaloo.
"No idea."
"And she's the only one who's seen this ghost?" asked Sweetie Belle.
"As far as I know."
"Well," said Scootaloo, "I think we'll change that tonight. We'll need to stay here after-hours; can you tell us how to get back here?"
"And how to get out of here?" added Sweetie.
"You wanna see the creature?" asked Pastry, "I mean, I wouldn't, but you look like professionals." He appeared to consider it for a moment. "Okay, I'm not really needed here right now," he said, "follow me; I'll get you out of here." Pastry opened a nearby drawer and withdrew a large glazed doughnut. He didn't eat it, nor did he didn't offer it to his guests; he just levitated it and walked out the room with it trailing behind him. The CMC followed him out the doors and through a maze of corridors almost as long as the one they had gone through to get to the kitchens. Eventually Pastry led them into what appeared to be a small lobby, with a security desk placed in front of a door at the opposite end of the room. The guard at the desk had been facing away from them, but turned towards them as they entered.
"'Hey, Pastry," he said.
"Hey... Hank?" responded Pastry, as though uncertain about the pony's name. "Listen, I need a little favor," he said, levitating the doughnut onto Hank's desk, "These lovely ladies need to be in the kitchens tonight."
Hank responded with a quizzical expression. "Three?" he said.
"Yes, there are three of them," responded Pastry.
Hank sighed. "Look, Pastry, I know that in your kitchen you're the chef, but that doesn't make it your kitchen. You can't just bring fillies there at night," he said.
"This isn't like last time," objected Pastry.
"Really?" said Hank, "Because it looks just the same to me. Actually, it looks three-times more so." The CMC tried not to gawk. Sweetie failed, and her jaw dropped.
"Look," said Pastry, "It's completely different. I'm not even going to be there."
"Sorry Pastry," said Hank, "I can't allow it. How did you get them in here anyway?" Sweetie Belle had had just about enough of being talked to as though she wasn't there.
"Hi," she said, "I'm Sweetie Belle, and this is Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. We're from the Center for Magical Curiosities."
"Yeah?" asked Hank, "I didn't see you come through here. How did you get in?"
"Uh," began Sweetie, "Princess Twilight let us in."
"Oh, really? Is that so?" chided Hank, "Well, I have to say that's a little difficult to believe because, believe it or not, Princess Twilight lives in Ponyville."
"She teleported us into the castle," said Sweetie, "...do you think I'm lying?!"
"Yeah. Yeah I do think you're lying," said Hank.
"Well I'm not!"
"Do you have any proof?"
Sweetie stopped short, and Scootaloo bit her lip, but Apple Bloom suddenly perked up. "Wait! I think I do have something," the said. She patted her pockets pointlessly before reaching into them. Her right hoof emerged with a narrow strip of paper, which she handed to the guard. He took it in his magic and examined it.
"Is this a receipt?" he asked, confused.
"Yeah," said Apple Bloom, "look at the name at the top."
"T. Sparkle. What is this?"
"Last week Twilight said she was going to the pharmacy, so I asked her if she could stop by the hardware store next door and pick up some Argon for me. She did, and she kept the receipt so I could see how much I owed her. I've been keeping it in my pocket as a reminder to pay her back. Good thing I'm such a procrastinator, or I would have gotten rid of that receipt days ago!"
"See?" said Sweetie, "we do know Twilight!"
Hank considered the evidence before him. "Well," he said, "you have a receipt from someone with the last name Sparkle.
"Okay, what do you think is going on here?" asked Apple Bloom, "Do you think we're like this guy's entourage or something? Do you really think he's such a chick-magnet that he's got three fillies on his heels, begging for him to take them to his kitchen?"
"Well then tell me what you actually find so interesting about his kitchen." he challenged.
"How about whatever absconds with twenty cakes every night?"
"Oh, so you're ghost hunters then?"
"Ugh," said Scootaloo, rubbing her temples in exasperation, "Look, Hank, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. We really do represent the Center for Magical Curiosities, and we really are here on an assignment from Princess Twilight Sparkle regarding some reports of paranormal activity. This guy... he's just our chief witness. All we need is for someone to show us the way to the kitchens tonight."
"Okay, Okay," said Hank, "I'm sorry, sometimes I get a little confrontational. I think that's why I was assigned this post. It sounds like you're telling the truth, but I really can't let you just wander around the castle on the authority of a receipt. I tell you what: I'll talk to some ponies, and we'll see if we can confirm your story with Princess Twilight. We'll fill in whoever's on duty tonight, and they can let you in. If we get some confirmation." He took a bite out of the doughnut that he'd been given.
"Thanks, man," said Pastry.
"Hey," said Hank, "This isn't for you. I'm just trying to let these mares do their job. Also, I want to hear if there's any truth behind that ghost story."
"Well, I'm looking forward to some sweet vindication. Here's the exit." He indicated the door on the opposite side of the desk and led the trio through it into the midday sun. The chill of the morning was gone, replaced by a temperate breeze: the perfect day.
"Thanks, Pastry," said Sweetie.
"Just one more thing," said Apple Bloom, "When we first found you, you mentioned a mare named Shady. We'd like to talk to her; can you tell us where we can find her?"
"Yeah, most afternoons you can find her at the Watering Hole. It's an unmarked cantina underneath a liquor store a couple blocks north of here on third avenue. The place is called Swig. Just go in there and go through the door marked staff bathroom. But hey, you didn't hear that from me, okay? And whatever Shady's up to, I'm not involved. She just works for me."
"Don't worry, we're not cops," said Scootaloo.
"It sound like she's a lot of trouble," said Sweetie, "Why do you still keep her around?"
"Oh, I wish I didn't have to," said Pastry, "But she's the frosting whisperer. I swear, she just looks at the stuff and it twists itself into knots. We couldn't decorate half the cakes we do without her skill."
"So she works with some cakes?" asked Scootaloo.
"Almost all of them," replied Pastry, "A lot of the time we'll just turn her loose and she'll come up with something at least satisfactory."
"Have you noticed any correlation between the cakes she works on and the cakes taken by the ghost?" Apple Bloom asked.
"Hey, Shady's not the ghost. Believe me, I would be able to tell."
"But have you noticed any relation between the cakes she works on and-"
"No."
"Okay, well, thanks for your help," said Scootaloo, "We'll probably see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see ya," he said. He turned and walked back through the door.
"Well," said Sweetie, "I think that raised more questions than it answered. Maybe this won't be as easy as we thought it would be."
"That just means it'll be more interesting," said Scootaloo.
"Well," said Apple Bloom, "We've got a couple hours to kill before we try to find Shady."
"Yeah," said Sweetie, "he said that she's in the cantina 'most afternoons'. What does that mean? Did he mean she's there at sunset, or that she shows up at 12:01?"
"Mmm, well, since she works in the kitchen she can't be there too late." said Scootaloo, "I thought we'd show up at 1:00 or so and wait."
"Sounds good to me," said Sweetie, "Hey are you guys hungry? I know a great diner between here and there."
Applebloom raised a hoof in the indicated direction: "Lead the way."