Agent Breeze wiped her weary eyes as she stared at her computer screen. Ponies bustled around her, still cleaning up the massive mess that had been made in Section Eleven during last night’s attack. Replacement computers and screens had been the first items brought back into the intelligence agency’s main room after the windigos’ weapons and the bodies of the fallen had been removed. Breeze grimaced as she thought of the friends she had lost.
As she glanced over at the large clock on the wall, she sighed. It was only early afternoon, but it felt like she’d been awake for a week. The mare yawned and slowly stood to her hooves.
“You heading out, Breeze?” Fortune asked from his seat beside her.
She nodded. “For a while, at least. I need to eat. I haven’t had anything since yesterday.”
“Ouch!” He winced. “You should probably do that… also, when was the last time you slept?” Fortune eyed her.
“I slept…” she began. “I think I slept about seven hours… the night before last?”
“What? You didn’t even get a nap in last night?”
Breeze shook her head. “I’ve had to coordinate the beginning of the investigation, get the EBI working on analyzing the evidence of the windigos, direct some of the students that Princess Twilight sent over to trace the windigo’s magic, try to figure out how they breached security, and get everyone connected using a computer system that was partially damaged during the attack. That’s a lot to do in twelve hours or less.”
“Oh, Celestia,” Fortune muttered. “You could ask for help, you know?”
“Everypony else is busy. I have to do this,” she replied as she put her notebooks and pens into her saddlebag.
“Seriously, you’re not going to be any good to us if you run yourself ragged. And weren’t you injured?” Fortune shook his head. “Breeze, please, get some rest.”
Agent Breeze sighed. “I’ll try, Fortune. I’m going to get something to eat and then probably try to sleep for a few hours… until the EBI gets back to me.”
“Good!” He smiled. “I guess I’ll see you later today.”
“Wait, what about you?” she asked. “When did you sleep last?”
Fortune chortled. “Breeze, I left for, like, five hours earlier. You didn’t notice?”
“Oh…” Breeze shrugged. “I guess I was a little busy.”
He waved her off. “Ah, just go. Have food. Get sleep.”
She gave a mock salute. “Sir, yes sir.” With that, the mare turned and headed out of Section Eleven’s doors. She strode past more ponies cleaning up the hallway, repairing holes in the walls and bustling back and forth on very official looking business. Breeze recognized a few of Princess Twilight’s magic students as they scanned the hallway with an advanced detection spell. They nodded to each other and jotted down notes as the agent passed by.
Breeze made her way up the stairway until she reached the castle’s main level. She took a sharp left and headed down to the mess hall, where military ponies gathered to enjoy the aromatic assortment of freshly grilled vegetables. Her stomach growled, and she grinned happily.
The doors to the mess hall were already open, and Breeze entered in time to see a group of guards leaving the food line, their trays covered in a few plates with vegetables, bread, and some kind of soup. The agent grinned as she walked over to—
“Agent Breeze?” a cultured voice called out from behind her.
She turned quickly to see Captain Ivanov walking toward her. He had bags under his eyes, but his crest and uniform were in immaculate condition. He nodded to her as he approached.
“Oh, Captain Ivanov!” she said cheerfully. “Good morning.”
“Actually, I think it’s afternoon,” he remarked, giving her a small grin. “But I’m not certain, at least not after last night.”
“Yeah,” Breeze agreed. “I’m guessing that you didn’t get a chance to sleep either?”
Ivanov shook his head. “Alas, I did not. I’ve been flying back and forth between the castle and my ship all night. Your Princess Twilight’s magical detectives have confirmed that there is windigo magic present on our ship.”
“What, really? Why wasn’t I informed?” she asked quickly, her eyes wide.
“I had actually just received word myself and was coming to see you now.” He gestured toward the line. “Right after I stopped for some food, that is. Would you care to join me?”
She nodded to him. “Of course, Captain.” The mare and the griffon walked toward the line and stood behind a pair of Night Guards. The line was moving swiftly, and they were soon approaching the first cook behind the counter.
“But yes, we did find proof that the windigos were, at the very least, present on the airship at some point within the last week. We do not yet know how recently, since your ponies are not allowed on the airship and thus cannot cast their more complicated spells.” Ivanov pursed his beak. “I’m going to try to convince General Chaput to allow them access, at least for the duration of the investigation.”
“That’s… rather magnanimous of you,” Breeze remarked. “I thought that griffon airships were highly classified. As far as I know, no pony has ever been allowed onboard one of them.”
“Desperate times,” he said. Turning away from the line, he gave her a sideways look. “‘Magnanimous.’ I do like that word.”
Breeze chuckled. “Yeah, me too. I suppose that there’s a translation in Griffonian, isn’t there?”
“Hmm… we actually have a few different languages in Griffonia,” he said. “You’re probably more familiar with our northern language.” He grabbed a tray with one talon and carefully walked sideways down the line. “I think that one of the closer translations to the word would be velikodushnyy. It almost means generous, but magnanimous is pretty much the same.”
“Very interesting,” Breeze said as she levitated her own tray. “I do love languages. I studied Prench in school, and was going to start some Northern Griffonian but never had the opportunity.”
“Ah, parlez-vous prançais?” the griffon asked with a twinkle in his eyes. One of the cooks gave him a questioning glance as she put a scoop of grilled squash, zucchini, and peppers onto his plate.
“I just told you that I did,” Breeze replied with a laugh.
His grin broadened. “Actually, that’s all I know of Prench. The general has offered to teach me some, but I’ve never taken him up on it.”
“You should. It’s a beautiful language.” They continued down the line, taking the vegetables, a few pieces of bread, some of the twelve-bean soup, and a cup of water before heading toward an empty table.
“It really is. I enjoy different cultures and the intricacies of their spoken words.” The griffon pulled out two seats from one of the tables, nodding to Breeze as he did so.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling to him as they sat down. “So, you speak Equestrian and at least one Griffonian. Any others as well?”
“I began a study on Yakistani for a while, back when I thought I was going to be a linguist in the army. But then I was assigned to a military police team instead due to an emergency situation. Because of my former training with the Griffonstone Police Department, I was the most qualified to conduct an investigation for a murder that happened on a remote training mission.” The griffon took a dainty sip of water. “We were out on a mountaintop listening in on actual Yakyakistan communication when one of the instructors was murdered. There was an enormous storm at the time, so we had no way to leave and a murderer among us.”
“Ooh,” Breeze said before she took a small bite of bread. The mare smiled happily at her first taste of food in a very long time.
“‘Ooh,’ indeed. Fortunately, the killer was rather easy to uncover. When I confronted him, he tried to kill me.” Ivanov smiled. “He did not succeed.”
“I suppose not,” Breeze replied with a chuckle.
“I never did finish that language course. They gave me a promotion, slapped on a medal, and shifted me over to the State Security Committee. I had a whirlwind of training there, and after that, I met the general.” He took a bite of his vegetables. “Mmm. This is far better than the food on my ship. Travel rations are not the most edible form of sustenance.”
“I bet,” Breeze said. “The food was terrible back in Manehattan, where I was stationed before this. Then again, that was a Night Guard base. The Royal Guard here has the best food out of all the bases in the entire country.” The mare looked over at Ivanov and tilted her head to the side. “I’m sort of surprised that you like vegetables. I thought most griffons were carnivores?”
He chuckled. “The key word here is ‘most.’ I admit, I eat meat on occasion, but I am almost a vegetarian. That’s actually what led to my friendship with the General. The others on the base were eating mutton, and there were two griffons over in a corner with a pile of carrots and celery. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“Well, that’s interesting!” Breeze sipped her soup. “Mmm, good. So, what did you do in the State Committee?”
“Probably much of the same work as your Captain Flair. Investigations, work in other countries, and many other jobs. On one special occasion, I was assigned to oversee an attack on Yakyakistan. There was a supposed traitor among the officers.” He grimaced. “Something went wrong, and the officer I was investigating was killed, along with almost every other commissioned officer. General Chaput, at the time Captain Chaput, was the highest ranked survivor. He took charge just by shouting at everygriff until they did what he said. Then he came up with the most insane scheme I’ve ever heard and managed to complete our mission.” Ivanov shrugged. “When we got back to Griffonia, he got promoted and requested that I be assigned to work with him on a permanent basis. He had a great deal of pull, and it happened. I’ve served under him ever since.”
“How did you feel, moving from covert operations work to regular naval assignments?” Breeze asked, finishing the last of her bread.
He took a bite of his own soup before replying. “I wasn’t sure how I felt, at first. But then the rebellion happened, and I was given a stolen airship to command.” The captain grinned. “Now, that I enjoyed. But enough about me!” Wiping his beak with a napkin, he nodded to her. “How about yourself?”
Smiling, she began to speak. “Oh, nothing so interesting. I went to college early for criminal justice and realized that I wanted to do something more. So I applied to the EBI after getting my degree and was accepted.” Breeze shrugged. “Solved a complicated case during training and was spotted by Sec Eleven. They asked me to join, and I did. Now I’m here. That’s it, actually.” She laughed. “Like I said, not quite as impressive of a story.”
“But intriguing nonetheless! What case did you solve?” Ivanov asked.
“It was one of the training cases that the EBI used to prove that some cases are unsolvable. It was an actual case that happened in Manehattan about twenty years ago. A pony was murdered, and the body was found. Killed by what looked like a crossbow, but no bolt was recovered. No evidence of magic, no witnesses, and the authorities could not, for the life of them, figure out where the murder had happened.”
“So, how does one solve a twenty year old mystery?” Ivanov ate more of his vegetables, his eyes never leaving the unicorn mare.
“Well, I’m from Manehattan, and there was something odd about the wound. It didn’t look like any bolt I recognized. The bolt would have had an oddly twisted point in order to make the exact wound. I crunched some numbers, and the design would have caused the bolt to curve leftward after being fired at a very fast rate, especially given the reports of the length of the bolt shaft. There’s no way something with that design would have been an effective weapon.” She smiled. “Of course, I came to the conclusion that—”
“It wasn’t a crossbow bolt,” Ivanov muttered.
“Exactly. The teachers said for me to drop it, but this was a new lead. Frankly, I don’t know why nopony had noticed this before, but all the reports and every bit of information said that it was a crossbow. It had to have been.” She shook her head. “So I contacted an old friend from school, an animator who was working on some video game project. He came over and helped me recreate the ‘bolt’ out of the wound’s evidence using a computer program. He made it look like a bolt, but it was when I asked him to change some of the dimensions slightly that things got interesting.”
“Oh? Do tell,” the griffon said with a smirk.
“I recognized the patterns. There’s a building in Manehattan that has these huge gargoyles on the sides. Some of them are holding highly decorated spears. Guess what the wounds looked like?”
The griffon’s smile widened. “Now, that is interesting.”
“Yep. I sent my information to my teachers, and they were very surprised. They contacted the authorities back at Manehattan and talked to them. With this lead, they reopened the case and actually found out what happened. It was a very long story, but it boils down to the stallion climbing the building on a drunken bet, falling to his death, being recovered, and then hidden by his friends. How they managed to track the friends down after so long, I have no idea, but at least the stallion’s siblings finally got some closure.”
“That’s rather incredible,” Ivanov said. “Very interesting work. I think you would have done well in the Committee. At least, I would have enjoyed working with you.” He gave her a charming smile.
“Well, thank you,” she replied, her face flushing. “But we get to work together now, so there is that.”
“There is. It is a very nice thing to work with somegr— somepony who is like-minded.” He raised his glass to her and winked before taking a drink. “But speaking of working together, and since we’re already here, I suppose I could fill you in on what we learned last night.”
“Please do,” the mare replied. She smiled as he leaned forward and began to speak, slightly angling her head downward and sideways, but keeping eye contact. Agent Breeze listened intently to the inflection in the words of the handsome griffon, her mind attempting to focus on the case.
“So, we started by checking our cargo manifests to see if the windigos had come with us from Griffonia, and…”
~~~
Director Blueblood inhaled sharply as his eyes fluttered open at last. The dim light from the room nearly blinded him and a sharp pain pierced through his chest. He groaned as he tried to roll onto his side, but a few tubes plugged into his foreleg prevented him from completely changing his position. Reaching down, he frantically tried to rip them out of him and—
“Blue!”
The stallion looked up, his vision still bleary. He could vaguely make out a familiar pony beside him… it was… What was her name?
“Nurse! He’s awake!”
“Ember...” he groaned. “What is…”
A door opened and another pony entered the room. The mare in a white hat ran over to him with some kind of object levitated beside her. She pressed the device to his chest as Blueblood rolled onto his back. He moaned as more pain flooded his body.
“Director, I am going to give you a shot,” a calm voice told him. “You’ll feel a twinge in your leg.”
He nodded briefly before he felt a pinch in his foreleg. Gritting his teeth, he held on until— Suddenly, the pain receded, and he gave a sigh of relief.
“Are you feeling better, Director? Please nod or shake your head. Don’t speak yet.” The nurse looked into his eyes intently.
“I can speak,” he managed to croak.
She huffed in annoyance. “Very well… Director, I’m going to go get your doctor, okay? Please stay calm and try not to strain yourself.”
“Okay,” he replied. Blueblood blinked rapidly as the mare trotted out of the room. Slowly, the world came into focus and he could finally see Captain Flair standing beside him.
The pegasus mare looked down at him, her eyes narrowed and mouth pursed. She gave a small smile to him as he gazed upward at her. “Hey, Blue. Don’t die.”
Blueblood laughed, and quickly coughed. The pain returned and he looked up at the ceiling, hissing quietly. “Oww. Don’t do that, Ember.”
“You had me worried, you big lummox. I had to give you mouth to mouth. Not exactly how I wanted our second kiss to go.” She sighed.
The stallion chuckled once more and reached a hoof up to his head. “Please, don’t make me laugh. It hurts…”
“Then stop almost dying on me! This is the second time.” She shook her head. “I swear, if this happens again before you buy me that drink, I am going to have to file a complaint.”
“With whom? I don’t think that fate has a public relations department. Or customer services.” The Director smirked. “Besides, don’t you owe me that drink? I’m pretty sure that’s how the bet went.”
“Oh, I don’t think so!” She tossed her intricate mane to the side. The soft red and pink hair flopped over her fresh white uniform. “I distinctly remember a ‘civilian asset’ coming to my base in Zebrica to oversee some of our operations. Said ‘asset’ had an amazing… asset, and I told him so. We had to go out into the jungle, and he didn’t want to listen to what I had to say when the map got confusing. Because he’s an idiot. So, we made a bet. If I could make it to the post first, he had to buy me a drink. If he got there first, then—”
“Then you had to buy him a drink,” Blueblood interrupted. He smiled slyly. “And I’m glad you enjoyed my asset.”
“Shush. The nurse said no talking.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Oh, that’s not how it w— ahhhh…” Blueblood pushed both hooves to his chest. “Celestia, this is unpleasant.”
“Are you okay?” Flair was at his side immediately. She raised a hoof up to his and met his gaze.
He smiled wearily up at her concerned face, meeting her brilliant blue eyes with his own. “It’s okay. Just a flesh wound.” He held her hoof tenderly, and the corners of her mouth tugged upward slightly.
“Well, good. Because you owe me a drink.” She pulled back, her hoof lingering on his for a moment longer.
“Excuse me, I made it to the post far before you,” Blueblood protested. “You owe me that drink.”
“Uh uh uh!” Flair waved her hoof at the director. “You misunderstand. If I’d been there first, you had to buy me the drink. If you got there first, you got to buy me a drink, thus making it a date.” She grinned. “I let you win.”
“Wait, what?” Blueblood asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m… I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“Yes. That is exactly how it works.” She took a step sideways, moving closer to his face. “At least, it did until you told me you were just there to scope me out for a possible transfer to Section Eleven… and then you became my boss.”
“Indeed. Not that it took you long to figure out,” he replied as she stood over him.
“Well, I am observant. And pretty. You said so, remember?”
“That was the pain meds. Zebrican wasps are awful.” Blueblood started to laugh but quickly stopped himself. “Nope. No laughing. Not worth it…”
“Oh, come on! Blaming it on wasps.” She reached down, booped his nose, and chuckled. “I kinda like this whole immobilized thing. It means that you have a hard time stopping me from doing naughty things!”
Her helpless victim growled. “I’m still your boss, Ember…”
“Mmm, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Technically, you’re on medical leave. I’m actually in charge of Sec Eleven now.” She leaned in closer and whispered into his ear. “That means that the whole ‘no flirting with your boss’ thing is finally not in effect. And I’m going to take complete advantage of that fact.”
“Wait, wait. You’re in charge? What happened to everypony else in the chain?” Blueblood asked, pulling away from her.
Instantly, her smile faded, replaced by a grimace. “There were a lot of casualties, Blue. We lost a lot of friends...” Her eyes flashed. “But we got them. We got every single twice-damned windigo. I enacted Blackout, and the princesses were able to fight the majority of them off.”
“I…” Blueblood felt his heart race, and he swallowed. There was a beeping beside him, and he turned to see his heart monitor flashing. The number on the display increased at a faster and faster rate, and—
“Shit. Nope, we’re not talking about that,” Flair interrupted. “But yeah. Now you get to buy me that drink.” As she spoke, her smile returned, but Blueblood could tell how forced it was.
He took a few deep breaths, and the monitor stopped beeping so loudly. “Well, maybe someday, Ember. What I said back before you joined Section Eleven still stands, though.” He met her gaze once more. “I’m the director. You’re an agent. We can’t do anything. I can’t buy you that drink, and we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“You’re right. We shouldn’t be talking right now.” Her mouth quirked upward.
“I’m glad you— oomph!”
Flair’s lips covered his gently, cutting off his next words. He opened his eyes wide in shock, but then she pulled away. He saw something glisten in the corner of her eye. “There,” she said. “I told myself that I’d do that one more time… just in case.”
Blueblood tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I… why… uhh…” He felt his face flush, and the monitor beside him started beeping again.
“Well. At least there was some kind of reaction,” she said sadly. “We could’ve been great, ya know. But with those rules, us almost dying on a daily basis, and… and whoever that other mare you’re still pining after is, it just can’t work, can it?”
“It…” he began, but stopped as he saw her face. “No, Ember. It can’t work.”
“I guess you can’t blame a mare for trying, eh?” Flair shrugged defeatedly.
“Ember, I—”
His words were cut off as the nurse returned, along with a pegasus stallion. They walked toward him, and Flair strode away.
She looked back as she approached the door. “I should probably go, Director. I’ll keep you informed about the situation after the doctor clears you for light duty. Get better, you hear?” Her smile was bitter, and her eyes still glimmered. “That’s an order.”
“Ember…”
She walked out the door, and the grinning face of the doctor came into full view. “Well, Director Blueblood! I’m glad you’re doing better! How are you feeling?”
Blueblood pushed down his conflicting emotions and cleared his throat.
“I’m fine.”
~~~
General Chaput sat at a desk in his new quarters in Canterlot Castle. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows as he scratched his quill against parchment. Smiling, the griffon lost himself in the feeling of the antique feather slowly moving over the rich, thick paper. He could smell the expensive ink and he relished in the sensation of writing.
A quick knock came from the door, and Chaput lifted his head. He stood up and walked over to the source of the noise. Opening it up, he looked outside to see a stallion holding a letter.
“General Chaput?” he asked.
“Yes, I am Chaput,” he replied kindly. “What is it?”
“Somegriff gave me this letter. He said it was for you.” The stallion handed him the envelope.
The general nodded. “Thank you, guard.”
“Sir!” the pony said as he snapped to attention. He strode away, and Chaput walked back inside, opening the letter with a talon. He removed a pink perfumed page and read the flowing script upon it.
Look in your closet.
Chaput raised an eyebrow and walked across the room. He came to the closet door, and—
“It took you long enough,” a dry voice remarked.
The griffon opened the door to reveal a familiar pony mare. She flicked her red mane out of her eyes as she walked into the room.
“Ah, you must be Operative Songbird. We meet at last.” Chaput gave a small smile. “That was some parlor trick. How did you get into my quarters?”
“There are ways, if you know them.” The mare cocked her head to the side. “I do not have much time. You asked for any significant information about the princesses to be delivered immediately, correct?”
“Yes, I did.” Chaput narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
The pony flashed him a smile. “Princess Luna has taken a lover… and they know about the changelings.”