//------------------------------// // XXIII: Canterlot Court // Story: A Prose By Any Other Name // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// Three days passed. Three days of simply waiting. Dusk’s mind was growing numb with his house arrest. The days were boring, filled with boring ideas and boring ponies. He mostly stayed in his room, only coming down to eat. Visitors were not permitted either, meaning Dusk’s only form of entertainment or interaction was his own mind. Yet even his imagination had seemingly dulled from all this time spent alone. Sure, he was a loner; but that didn’t mean he liked being it. Introverts like him may like being alone, but none wish to ever be lonely. He thought about writing mostly. Writing letters, notes, something, anything—anything that would keep his mind occupied. But he stubbornly refused to follow on through. He was still afraid of what would happen if he was caught. So he refrained from doing mostly anything but thinking. He thought about many things. He thought about his past. He thought about his present, about his future. He thought about Raven, and missed him, and needed him. He thought about Opacare Prose, about what he had done, and he felt regret. He thought of the Crusaders, and realized he had grown to truly care for them. And he thought about himself—and came to the same conclusion as he did every time he thought about himself. He hated himself. It wasn’t as evocative, nor as vibrant, as one would expect. It was a dull hate, tamed by time, muddied by his actions of the past and present. It held him up, kept him strong; but it corrupted his mind, and messed with his thoughts. Every “thing” that involved him all ended with the same conclusion: that he was to be hated. And he kept that conclusion true to himself, not allowing himself the chance to think otherwise, too afraid of what could happen. He hated himself in the day. He hated himself in the night. He hated himself for the three days he stayed inside. He hated himself for doing what he had to do. He hated himself for allowing Raven to die. He hated, and he hated, and he hated— Dusk took a slow breath. His heartbeat slowed, and he closed his eyes, calming himself. His old self was a stallion filled with hate; and, no matter how vindictive it felt, he didn’t want to fall into the same old trap. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted at the back of his mind. The curtains were closed, light shying away. He sat in the dark, with his coffee, reading the paper. His name was plastered on the front page like a stain. There were several editorials on Ponyville’s newspaper, all about him. Some, to his surprise, tried to defend him. Most, however, vehemently spoke poorly of him. Filthy Rich in particular had some choice words to say. It had been years since Dusk had been called an “arrogant, narcissistic fool of a stallion.” He was mildly impressed and amused he had lasted that long. It didn’t matter what the papers, said, though. Dusk already knew the truth about himself; so he didn’t need to bother defending himself. But he was going to Canterlot soon. To speak of his involvement in the author’s disappearance, and the detective’s death. The truth about himself would be revealed, whether he liked it or not. He could only hope to stall it, unwilling to let others see it. But why? Why did he feel so afraid to speak the truth? He didn’t let himself answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. So he sat in his chair and closed his eyes—and waited. And, for a time, that was all he could do. The house was eerily quiet, as quiet as the residing stallion. The birds had gone silent, the world had closed up its walls, leaving him truly alone. Life. Death called. He wants his boringness back. There was a knock on the door, bringing him out of his thoughts. He at first ignored it, thinking he was hearing things. The second knock resounded across the house, filling the empty, deafened void with percussion. He clutched his head in slight annoyance. “What?” he half-growled, half-groaned. It was one of the ponies stationed outside, keeping him inside. “You’re ride is here, Mr. Prosa.” At that, his dark thoughts faded, and he practically jumped out of his chair. Yes! Action! Finally! He turned, clearing his throat, resuming a calm demeanor. “I’ll be there.” He heard the door unlock, and walked forward, twisting the knob. He pulled the wooden frame open and pushed past the screen door eagerly. The sun blasted him with light, and he shielded his eyes with his forehoof. Ah, damn it. He blinked rapidly, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. A few seconds passed, and his eyesight returned to relatively normal. “A chariot?” he asked. “Apparently you warrant special privileges,” the pony outside said with a smirk. Two white pegasus Royal Guards, clad in golden armor and with navy plumes, stared stoically ahead. Behind them, on reins, was a large, alabaster-gold chariot, a red velvet seat at the end.The guards, with their sunstone-brown eyes and shut jaws, looked quite intimidating. They were enough to remind Dusk of his old persona; but he pushed that thought away. With a simple nod, the guards beckoned Dusk onto the chariot. Though at first unsure (he had never ridden on a chariot before), he obliged, carefully stepping onto the vehicle. He placed his satchel on his lap and brushed down his cloak and vest, as tattered as they were. “At your leave,” one of the royal guards said. He nodded. “Nunc.” They didn’t make to move, but he could see their confusion. He sighed. “Now would be fine.” They nodded, and with a flap of their wings, took off for the north, heading for Canterlot. Dusk was thankful that they were slow; he might have fallen off had they been flying at a faster rate. He gripped the ends of the sofa, allowing himself a brief moment of rest. Canterlot was abuzz. Seeing an ordinary earth stallion flying in on a chariot made for the Princesses was not a common sight. His choice in tailoring, as well as their condition, only served to spark more upturns of disgust. Their faces turned away, and they let out low curses about commoners and their filth. Dusk, surprisingly, did not feel at all threatened by their actions. It was familiar, from his memories as a student in Canterlot all those years ago. The so-called “high class” ponies really were nothing more but spoiled slobs; perhaps even worse than he, in that regard. He smirked as he landed, getting out of the chariot and stepping out onto the pavement. He began trotting, the purple tiles clacking beneath his hooves. He looked straight ahead, towards the palace; it wasn’t too far away, thankfully. A few ponies, most them snobbish looking, shot him glares, but he ignored them as he walked. It had been nearly thirteen years since he had been in Canterlot, and he could tell that several things had changed. For one, the city was no longer as “secure” in the past. There were guards stationed on several street corners, with police flanking them. He supposed that it was due to the recent return of an old king a few months back. The palace itself had also changed; it had become much larger and more regal looking, shining in the light of day. Looking around, he saw that the shops were also much larger; he guessed there was an economic overflow, allowing many businesses to prosper and expand. If only Manehattan were just as wondrous, he thought. Soon, he had made it up the steps. A pair of guards protected the main door, the massive entrance bolted shut and covered in various symbols. Dusk’s eyes glanced at the two guards in slight unease. They were as frozen as statues—much like the one in the Canterlot Gardens—though he could sense the dignity and courage in their stances. He doubted he could make a run for it without getting tackled to the ground by these ponies. He cleared his throat, assuming a more authoritative tone. “I am here to… die, I suppose.” The guards didn’t respond. “I am here to… be arrested? No, I already am.” They barely hinted at hearing him. “Go to jail?” Nothing. He sighed. “I am here to… go to trial, I suppose.” “Name,” one of the guards stated. He looked up, actually surprised, before answer, “Dusk Prosa.” The two nodded. “You may enter.” They stepped to the side, and lit their horns. The massive bolt was pulled aside, loosening the door. With a wave of their horns, it was swung open, revealing the massive hall into the castle. “Court is down to the left,” one of the guards said. He nodded his thanks, and walked inside, the door shutting behind with a loud bang. He released a pent-up breath. He could tell that his days were numbered. Slowly, he walked down the red carpet, moving past the pillars and arches. The sun gleamed through the windows, though not harshly, and it pointed to the right side of the hall. The darker path lay to the left, where the court was. He considered which path to take for a moment, before sighing and choosing the left, the darker, likely more sinister. Several more minutes passed, and he finally reached the exit. Another large door stood in front of him, with two unicorn guards in front of it. Seeing him, they nodded, and together pulled open the doors, revealing the court to him. As he walked inside, he looked up in surprise, seeing the ponies who were also there. “Miss Sparkle?” he questioned. The lavender unicorn turned to face him, and had a small smile on her face. Beside her was Spike, who looked somewhat perturbed. Behind them was Twilight’s other friends—Rarity, Rainbow, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie. “Hello, Dusk,” she greeted warmly, holding out a hoof. He did not take it, regarding her with a cold stare. “What exactly are you doing here?” She retracted her hoof and cleared her throat. “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna asked us to help preside over the court proceedings.” She leaned forward. “You may not know this, but Canterlot courts have a history of getting lively.” He could only imagine what that meant. Dealing with crazy nobles was not something he had expected. “Any chance you could tell me how court will proceed?” he asked. She pursed her lips. “Well… there will be a jury, of course. It will consist of several nobles from Canterlot. One of the Princesses will be acting as judge. Another will take the role of prosecution, though they won’t be trying to get you the guilty verdict.” He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like any court I’m familiar with.” “This is a special case, Dusk—you are a special case. As such, traditional court proceedings will be abolished for the moment.” She let out a breath. “You see, this is will be a trial of investigation, not a court of criminality. We are trying to figure out what is going on, basically.” He nodded at that. “I see. How will the investigation go about?” “It should be quite simple. You’ll be asked by the prosecuting Princess several questions, and you are to answer them to the best of your ability. The prosecution will present the facts of the case, give an outline, and let you put in your own account. The jury will evaluate you based on your responses and actions. “Of course, that’s assuming things go as planned. These things tend to go awry at some point.” “Oh, that’s a relief.” She couldn’t help but smirk at his sarcasm. “Anyway, the judge Princess will decide whether the case is to remain open or to close it. If she chooses to close it, you’ll be handed a verdict and have to serve jail time.” “Lovely.” “However, if she decides to continue the investigation, another trial may be called. The process will be similar to the original investigation trial. Based on the case, the Princess will decide whether the case will be expanded to more days, or limited to a select few days.” “Does the court have witnesses?” “Well…” At that she gestured to herself and the others. “That’s what we’re also here for. Since we know you the best—relatively,” she added, seeing Dusk raise an eyebrow, “we’ll be providing our own accounts to the case.” She looked directly at him. “Do you understand?” “It’s a weird way to go about investigating somepony.” “Well, you’re not exactly the norm yourself.” He smiled slightly, hiding his butterflies in his stomach. “No, I am not.” They then heard the hall’s doors open up. They turned, Dusk unsure of whom to expect, while Twilight and the others maintained a calm attitude. Doctor Irons entered first, wearing his white jacket over his blue-grey fur. His taupe mane was held back by what appeared to be glasses—likely, spectacles—and his pine-green eyes lit up as they saw Dusk. The pewter stallion made to greet him, but Twilight held him back. Looking back up, he saw Irons step to the side, allowing the true visitors to become clear. Princess Celestia walked ahead, her prismatic mane flowing gracefully around her. Her magenta eyes twinkled, almost playful, but Dusk could tell she was serious by the frown on her face. Behind her was Princess Luna, with an equally as stunning dark-blue mane. The little stars made her look like a walking constellation. They nodded to Irons—he returned a little bow—before walking up the others. They all bowed respectfully, Dusk even more so. He had never been up close and personal with any of the princesses before, and he was determined to try and make a good impression. “Rise, my little ponies,” Celestia said, her voice warm and motherly. They obliged, looking at her in slight nervousness. Celestia and her sister walked up to Dusk, staring at him in silence, and he did much the same. “So you’re the stallion I’ve been hearing about,” Celestia asked, though it was more of a statement really. “I am.” “And you know why you are here.” “Relatively speaking.” She smiled. “A bit terse, are we?” He nodded, unsure if he should answer truthfully or at all with his voice. He noticed Luna looking at him oddly. “Something wrong, Your Majesty?” he asked. She blinked. “Oh, no. I just thought you’d be bigger.” He frowned, not quite sure what to say to that. “Sorry to… disappoint you.” They nodded, moving past him to talk to the others. Doctor Irons appeared by his side with a tiny smile. “Nervous?” Dusk nodded. “Though, I’ve lasted this long. I think I might make it.” “Any idea what they might ask?” “Questions, I would imagine. Regarding my ‘involvement’ in recent events.” “What about what you’ll say to them?” Dusk shrugged. “The nobles will be here any second,” Princess Celestia said, looking around. “I suggest you all get ready. You especially, Dusk Prosa.” Nodding, he and Irons stepped to the side, just as the ponies began to enter. Dusk didn’t keep up with the latest news in Canterlot, so he didn’t recognize most of the nobles. Two, though, he had heard of from the oral grapevine. The first was a blonde-haired unicorn, wearing a white coat and having teal eyes. He noticed Rarity give the stallion a seething look, and it didn’t take long for him to guess who it was. “Prince Blueblood,” he whispered to Irons. “Oh, this will be interesting,” Irons whispered back, almost grinning. Blueblood noticed their presence, and snorted in distaste at Dusk’s attire. “Oh? A mere common earth stallion? How mundane.” He looked at Dusk. “You had better be worth the manicure I had to cancel.” Dusk gave a feral grin. “Trust me; I am.” His smile did its job, unnerving the royal prince. Dusk glanced back at Rarity as Blueblood left, seeing a satisfied grin on her face. He turned back to the nobles, seeing the second recognizable figure. “Mr. Fancy Pants?” “Ah! Yes, hello, my good fellow,” the blue-haired stallion responded kindly. He looked at Dusk, then, with a grin, at Irons. “Aha! Steel! It’s been ages!” He clapped “Steel” Irons on his back, letting out a hearty laugh. Irons smiled back. “It certainly has, Fancy. How’s business?” He winked. “How’s Miss Fleur?” Fancy laughed. “Business is great, old fellow. And Fleur’s just as brilliant. A year in our marriage and she still hasn’t tired of little old me!” “I doubt anypony could tire of you, my friend.” Meanwhile, Dusk frowned in contemplation. He vaguely recalled reading that Fancy and Fleur had been dating; guess they had married only recently. That would explain why he hadn’t heard of it. That, or it was because he avoided the tabloids. Fancy turned to Dusk. “And this is our accused?” “Yes, it is.” Irons nodded, gesturing to Dusk. “Fancy Pants, meet Dusk Prosa. Dusk Prosa, Fancy Pants.” “A pleasure!” Fancy greeted, holding out a hoof. Dusk took it and shook, though he didn’t smile. “Charmed.” Fancy was undeterred by his lackluster greeting. “Don’t you worry, old chap. You don’t seem all that threatening.” “Really?” The fancy stallion laughed again. “You should see my wife when she gets angry. That’s intimidating, I tell you.” Dusk’s lips twitched into a smile. At least Fancy didn’t seem hostile. Several more ponies passed by, though few spared Dusk a glance. They each bowed to Princess Celestia and Luna, before walking up the side and into the jury booth. A few moments later, all were seated. Seeing this, Celestia rose, commanding their attention. “I will act as judge for this trial,” she began. “My sister, Princess Luna, shall act as the prosecution. Dusk Prosa is the defendant. Is that understood?” “Yes, Your Highness,” the court echoed. “Very well. Court is now in session for the trial of Dusk Prosa.” Luna began by, once again, listing off Dusk’s charges. However, she did so with the vigor and excitement of a foal, like she was eager to play her part. Dusk guessed that it was because it was rare for similar court cases to be presented; and perhaps she wanted to impress the nobles as well. The charges said, Luna decided to delve more into the backstory of the case. “Around three weeks ago,” she said strongly, “Dusk Prosa arrived in Ponyville. From what Twilight Sparkle has told us, Dusk came from the north. His wounds suggested fights with numerous Shade and Timberwolves—an impressive feat, to say the least.” He felt a surge of pride. It wasn’t everyday one of the Sisters praised you for staying alive. “Further interactions revealed that Dusk came from Manehattan, though why had not taken a train is still unclear. He stayed in Ponyville for the duration of those three weeks. I believe Rainbow called it ‘locking himself up in that creaky old shack of his?’” Rainbow blushed in embarrassment. Dusk frowned. It’s not that creaky. “However, during that time frame, several things came to light. Number one, Dusk was found to be in possession of numerous syringes, empty at first. It was noted that he was quite… possessive of them, going so far as to confront Twilight Sparkle for stealing one of the needles.” He saw Twilight winced, as well as Celestia frown. Hopefully she won’t be punished too much for that, if at all. Luna levitated over a paper that detailed several key events she wanted to bring up. “Dusk, afterwards, did not do much other than stay inside of his home. However, two weeks into his arrival, it appears he had a confrontation with a certain Filthy Rich and his daughter Diamond Tiara and her friend Silver Spoon.” She looked to Dusk, an eyebrow raised. “According to Rich, you ‘threatened his daughter with death…’” Irons spoke up. “Your Highness, if I may speak for the accused.” “Go on.” “Dusk did not say such thing. Merely, he confronted the stallion and his daughter for excessive bullying of a certain Dinky Doo.” “I see…” Luna’s frown remained. “However, in that confrontation, Rich pointed out that Dusk had spoken of another stallion who had tried to threaten him. Prosa had said, quote, ‘Do you know what happened to the last stallion who dared to cross me?! He’s ten feet under! And if you’re not careful, you’ll be in the same situation!’” Dusk winced, though he had expected that to come up. He looked to the nobles, seeing their frowns deepen. Fancy seemed to be mildly intrigued. “Could you perhaps explain your choice of words, Dusk?” Luna asked. Dusk nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He raised his voice, becoming the center of attention. “I admit, I made a threat. But it was an empty threat in the face of an empty parental figure. I ask the court to recall that Filthy has done nothing to curb his daughter’s habits; as such, I believe that my response, while admittedly extreme, was appropriate.” Luna nodded, turning back to the paper. Dusk noticed a faint smile on her lips. He looked up, and saw Fancy trying to hide his own satisfied smirk. Irons leaned over. “Filthy has made a name for himself in the higher ups. Princess Luna and Fancy Pants aren’t very fond of him. I can imagine they think he had it coming.” That’s somewhat reassuring, Dusk thought. Princess Luna went on, “A few days later, a meeting in Town Hall was called. Rich was presiding over it, and tried to convince the ponies to drive Dusk out of town. Mayor Mare said they couldn’t do that without substantial evidence of any wrongdoing. Which brings us to the syringes.” From the evidence box she pulled out one of Dusk’s syringes, still filled with blood, and still having the tag attached. The nobles gasped in shock. He shot a glance at Irons, who winced, sheepish. “Sorry, mate. I had to bring one of them for evidence. It’s your blood, though; not the other’s.” It was clear who he was speaking of. Dusk sighed. “That’s fine, I suppose.” “Don’t worry; I told the Princesses to keep the syringe specially cooled.” Dusk nodded his thanks, then refaced the prosecutor. “Mares and stallions of the court, you are no doubt wondering why there appears to be blood in this syringe. We ourselves were wondering the same thing. Which is why I call Doctor Steel Irons to the witness stand.” Irons nodded, trotting up the walkway and making his way to the stand. After being sworn in, he launched into a lengthy explanation about the contents, the blood itself, its nature, as well as how it had been stored. The nobles listened in rapt interest, though Dusk noticed that Prince Blueblood looked somewhat squeamish. “In conclusion,” the doctor finished up, “the blood found in this syringe is not like ordinary blood. It suffers from a special variant of cancer and thalassemia, a combined mutation of sorts.” “So this stallion is not an ordinary stallion?” one of the nobles, a lovely mare, asked. Dusk actually chuckled, and they heard him. Luna gave him a questioning look. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been asked that question a lot.” He looked at the noble, and though he felt somewhat nervous, managed a confident stare. “I am as much of a stallion as Doctor Irons is. Though, perhaps I am a bit more. Or less, depending on how you look at it.” His answer garnered a frown, but seemed to satisfy her, and she sat down. “And this blood… you say that only Dusk has it?” Irons shook his head. “Not exactly. There are several thousand documented cases of ponies suffering from a similar—or even exact—condition. Dusk is simply one of them.” “So how does this connect back to Opacare Prose’s disappearance?” Blueblood asked impatiently. “To understand that, we must understand how we first became aware of the contents of this blood.” Luna looked to Rainbow Dash. “I call Rainbow Dash to the stand.” Rainbow gulped, but flew over, trying to appear as confident as she could. She swore herself in, then talked about how she had come to discover the syringes. The nobles listened just as intently as before, though some had their eyebrows raised at the methods Rainbow had used. Princess Celestia spoke up once Rainbow had finished her account. “So you broke into Dusk’s home?” Rainbow cringed at hearing the question for the second time that week. “W-well, I had Scootaloo promise to keep the door slightly opened so that I wouldn’t have to try and lockpick it.” “Couldn’t you have gone through the window?” “I guessed that Dusk would have noticed my intrusion, then.” Dusk nodded, confirming he would have. “Scootaloo?” Blueblood huffed. “What an odd name for an ordinary mud pony.” He was met with furious death glares from both Rainbow and Dusk. “She’s a filly pegasus,” Rainbow stated angrily. “Irrumator,” Dusk spat. Blueblood looked surprised, then seethed, as a few nobles chuckled at his chagrin. Rainbow turned back to Princess Luna. “Anyway, I took some photos of the syringes, before telling Twilight and the others. The rest, you already know.” “May we see these photos?” Rainbow opened her satchel and gave them over. Luna levitated the pictures up, letting the court see them. “Dozens of them,” Celestia whispered. She brought one of the photos over to her, eyes squinting. “They have labels that say OP… what does that mean?” Luna called Twilight to the stand to help explain. “Well, it was a guess at first. It could have been a coincidence that they said OP, but then again, there were other factors.” She lifted up the photo of the note. “Here, in this thrown-out scroll, you can see Dusk talk about Opacare Prose as if he knew him.” “And of Raven Lock. But we’ll get to that in time. Doctor Irons? If you could tell your findings.” “Analyzing the syringes found in Dusk’s house, as well as Dusk’s own blood, we found they contained the same white blood cells and antibodies,” Irons explained. “That is impossible for two stallions to have. The only way for that to happen is through blood transfusion, which is the preferred method of treatment for patients with thalassemia. Given the tags, we evaluated that the blood found in the fridge was Opacare Prose. The note seems to suggest this as well.” It makes sense, Dusk thought. Too much sense. Somehow, I completely missed this possibility. Luna brought the note back over. “The words have mostly been smudged, but we can see that Dusk definitely talks about Opacare like he knew him. And, as if he were dead.” Surprised murmurs radiated from the jury booth. Their gazes turned curious, wanting to hear more. She began quoting several lines: “‘Opacare Prose is gone… my hooves… killed him… true… confession.’” She looked around the court. “Indeed, these words suggest that not only did Dusk know Opacare personally, he was responsible for his disappearance. Or rather, his death.” “Well, then that’s his confession, then!” a male noble cried. “We ought to send him to the gallows!” Luna shook his head. “Perhaps, but we still haven’t determined everything. We must also figure out what Dusk’s connection to Raven Lock is.” She waved the note around. “We see that Dusk had been writing to Raven Lock about some sort of operation. Two days later, after the note’s discovery, Raven Lock is found dead in an explosion at his apartment.” She lowered the photo, turning back to face the rest of the court. “Since this is still the opening summary, I cannot yet ask Dusk to explain. However, I can still ask the other witnesses to give their accounts. Starting with Miss Rarity.” Rarity trotted to the stand, swore herself in, and began her explanation. “Well, on one of the nights of guard duty, Dusk was with us. He was quite the observer, reminding me of a certain fictional detective.” She smiled at Dusk, a smile which he returned, though in a smaller size. “Anyway, I asked where on Equestria he had learned to make such profound observations. And he told me he had learned from a detective friend.” She sighed. “It was only a few days later, when I heard of that horrific accident. The gas main explosion was grisly. My heart goes out to the families of the victims claimed in that fire.” She shook her head. “I read the paper, and saw that it said that among the victims was a certain Raven Lock. Former Head of Investigations in Canterlot, former Canterlot Police Detective, former psychologist.” She looked directly at Dusk. “It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this was the detective Dusk was talking about. The note he wrote also completely supported this.” Stepping down, Applejack took her place. She gave a similar account, though she admitted she didn’t particularly like Prosa at first. She finished, stepping away, letting Luna take the center. “Thank you, ladies. From these accounts, we can accurately conclude that Raven Lock was a friend of Dusk’s; possibly, an old friend. They’ve been collaborating for a number of days—perhaps longer, unrecorded. So we have determined how Dusk is related to Raven Lock.” She shook her head. “However, questions still remain. Questions that I cannot answer with the witness’s accounts.” She looked to her sister. “The prosecution makes a movement to transition to the examination.” “Granted,” said Celestia. She looked at Dusk. “Will Mr. Prosa please take the stand?” Dusk gulped. This was it. He had to make this as perfect as he could muster, without giving away too much. He still needed time; time that he doubted the court would freely give. He removed himself from the bench, walking over to where the witness stand was. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Celestia asked. No. “I do.” “Take the stand.” He did so, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. Give everything and nothing, he reminded himself. He opened his eyes, his gaze flashing brilliantly, reflecting the careful, reserved vibrancy underneath. Let’s do this. Luna faced him. “Mr. Prosa, are the events I have described as they actually were?” “That is correct. I did come from Manehattan, traveled from the Hollow Shades, all the way to Ponyville. And I did hide in that creaky old shack.” “And the confrontation?” “Also correct.” “Very well. Could you give us your own account of your three weeks in Ponyville?” He did so, his voice loud and clear. Here he was in his true element, as a storyteller. For the moment, he forgot he was on the accused bench. Instead, he reveled in the perfect amount of attention; not too much, not too little. He had an audience, and he was determined to please them to the best of his ability. Voice strong and words as clear as day, he told of his time in Ponyville, of his thoughts, of his feelings and ideas and emotions. Yet he refrained from going too deep into detail on his sorrows, his fears, and his uncertainties, doing his best to keep the story flowing, but giving only enough detail to satisfy. When he had finished, Luna regarded him with a stare. “I must admit, it is quite impressive how you are able to craft such a unique tale from the same story.” She glanced at his flank. “It surprises me you do not have a mark for storytelling.” He nodded his thanks, but nervousness welled up in him. That was the easy part. Now comes the hard. She levitated over the note, placing it in front of him. “You wrote this, correct?” “… Yes.” He picked it up in his hooves, as if studying it. In actuality, he was busy thinking of a way to stall for time. Finding one, he grunted. “I had written it some time ago, but threw it out. I had thought nopony would read it.” He cast a knowing look at Rainbow Dash. “I had hoped that my privacy would be protected.” He looked to Celestia. “I trust that I’ll get some retribution out of this?” “Possibly.” It was a start, but it would do. “Why did you throw it out?” Luna asked. He searched for an easy answer. “I spilled the ink, and ruined the parchment. I wasn’t planning on keeping a ruined piece of paper.” Luna nodded. “That makes some sense. Still, though, why did you not try writing the note again?” “I was… distracted.” He didn’t mention that he been wallowing in self-despair. “I was going to write the note later on, but…” His voice faltered, and Luna guessed why. “Raven died.” He breathed slowly. “That is correct. You see, I had written the note sometime before his… leaving this plane of existence. It didn’t feel right to write it again.” She stepped forward a little. “So why did you write it?” “To clear my head of some thoughts.” “Is there any way you could tell us what the smudged writing says?” “Not to my memory, unfortunately.” Of course, he knew a way, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. “And these thoughts.” She gestured to the photo. “You, talking about you being insane?” “Contextual error. Smudged writing eliminated the meaning of that sentence.” “I see. What about the fact that you spoke of Prose as if you killed him?” “Same thing.” “But we have established a possible motive, have we not?” “We have?” His barely dodging the question managed to annoy the lunar princess. She sighed. “I suppose I will have to piece it together for you.” “Take your time.” “We have established that you and Prose had the very same condition. A blood transfusion would be necessary for you to survive. Would it be a stretch to say that you had met with Opacare with Raven Lock, and the three of you had established some sort of operation together?” She narrowed her eyes. “An operation that involved your and Opacare’s blood?” He said nothing, staring at her. Inside, his heart was beating rapidly, and he thought that if anypony was near they’d hear it. “I take it by your silence that you agree that this is in the realm of possibility.” She leaned back, thinking. “This operation you spoke of in your note… it must have gone on for some time. Perhaps even before Opacare disappeared. But something happened. Something that made you decide that enough was enough, that Opacare needed to be silenced. So… you ‘killed him,’ with your own hooves.” She looked back at the stallion. “Of course, this is all speculation. Why not do us a favor, and clear this up for us?” She was expecting him to cave him. He knew he could prolong this forever. He decided to try a different approach, one that would dodge this question, and answer somewhat another. “You’ve said I had a connection with Raven Lock,” he said carefully. “And I’ve admitted that that’s true. From Rarity and Applejack’s accounts, you now know that he was a friend of mine. The connection I had with him was of purely platonic nature.” All eyes were trained on him as he gave his little speech. “He was a good friend; and I will miss him dearly. Perhaps you understand, Princess Luna; surely you have had friends come by, live, and die suddenly?” She did not interrupt, calmly letting him talk. “Raven Lock died in a gas explosion in Manehattan, in his apartment,” he reiterated. “I tell you, I had nothing to do with that. How could I, when I was in Ponyville the entire time? If anything, his death came as a great surprise to me.” He shook his head. “In that note, where I wrote that Raven would die, that was intentional, but for a different reason. You see, as the former Head of Investigations, and as a former detective in the Canterlot Police Force, Raven had established a name for himself in the criminal underworld. He made enemies with the ponies he had locked up; though, he became friends with some who had become his patients.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. Luna stared at him, her head slightly tilted, a frown on her face. “Are you suggesting that Raven Lock’s death was due to the actions of a disgruntled, ex-prisoner?” He winced, knowing he would have to lie. “There is more possibility of it being a gas explosion and nothing else. But so long as that possibility remains intact, I cannot be described as being involved in his demise.” Celestia nodded. “Intriguing. We may need to set up a separate investigation to investigate this line of thought.” Murmurs echoed throughout the court, and Dusk let out a relieved breath. He had stalled his investigation just a little bit, and might have even set up an opportunity to avenge Raven Lock’s death. Twilight and her friends were just as surprised as Luna and Celestia with this alternate probability, and for that, he was quite proud. Looking back at the jury, he saw similar looks of shock and confusion on their features. But just because he dodged the bullet, didn’t mean the court was out of ammo. Celestia called for order, her eyes settling back onto Dusk. “Thank you for your input on Raven Lock, Dusk. I can imagine that you are still feeling the pain of losing your friend. I think this court can safely say that you are, in all likelihood, not responsible for his death.” He nodded his thanks. “However, there are still issues we need to clear up. Issues that, I think, you need to answer for.” He nodded again, doing his best to hide his growing apprehension. “Luna? Continue your questioning.” The younger sister nodded, walking back to the center of the court. Frowning as she faced Dusk, she asked, “Could you tell us more on this ‘operation’ of yours?” Dusk knew this was coming, and he doubted he could lie his way out of it. Trying to appear undeterred, he answered, “I’ll try.” He took a deep breath, steadying his heart rate. “What do you want to know?” “Let’s start with the nature of your operation.” Dusk saw any sliver of hope fade away. Now he knew he could not lie about this. And he guessed that afterwards, the court would connect the dots, and that would be that—no pony coming to save the day, no hero. He would be locked up, and fail, and despair. The most he could do, he decided, was stall to the best of his ability. “This operation,” he began, his voice still strong and audible, “was for a better good. Some may call it a monopoly on life, but we considered it necessary.” He hoped that his choice of words would serve to muddle the listeners’ minds. “We were hoping to do something life-changing, perhaps to do some great, something that went beyond ourselves.” He sighed. “Time was not our friend, however. Things got out of hand. Actions had to be taken, choices made. Work became different, the process slow, everything cautious. The dream of changing for the better became distant, little more than images at the back of our mind. “We created this operation as a way to fulfill an old promise, you see. Something ancient, a word forged in the fire of the blazing inferno in our hearts. It was born out of a need to do better, and a desire to improve life and lives.” “You make it sound like you were trying to change the world.” “Is that not the dream of many? Is not change the one thing that is constant, the one thing we can rely on being?” Luna didn’t answer, prompting Dusk to continue. “We hoped something good could come out of our work. We wanted to change the world for the better.” “I… see,” Luna said, though she likely didn’t. “And… what did this operation consist of?” He swallowed. “Transportation, mostly.” “Of?” “Materials.” “Such as?” At that he could only shrug. “Important things, I suppose.” Luna narrowed eyes. “You mean to say you don’t know?” “Well…” His voice trailed off, leaving the princess to guess what his true answer was. She waited, but he did not seem to have anything else to say. She decided that that was a good enough answer, and moved on. “What of Opacare Prose’s disappearance? How does that connect to the operation?” He sighed. “That’s a bit tricky to answer, Your Highness.” “Why is that?” “… Prose wasn’t supposed to vanish, I don’t think. But fate had different plans.” “Were you part of those plans?” He didn’t answer, looking away. She pressed on, “Did you have anything to do with Opacare Prose’s disappearance?” “I merely assisted in the operation.” She furrowed her brow, frustrated. “Dusk Prosa, you will answer the question truthfully.” “… I assisted in the operation.” The repetition made Luna sigh. He knew that he couldn’t stall for long. “Did you or did you not kill Opacare Prose?” That he could answer truthfully, and also gain a little more time. “No, I did not.” Luna frowned. “But the note you wrote suggests otherwise.” “As I said before, it is a matter of blurred context. And suggestion is not solid enough as proof of evidence.” “Then what did you do to Opacare Prose?” That caught him off guard. “What makes you think I even did something?” “Why else would you write of him in this note, this unsent letter?” He had dug himself into a hole, and couldn’t get out easily. He inwardly sighed. “I—we-we talked, sometimes. About the—” About the what? C’mon, say something! “—blood—” Damn it, Dusk! Luna raised an eyebrow, and Dusk knew he had messed up. “The ‘blood?’” He coughed, trying to save face. “Y-yes, the blood.” Might as well say it. “It’s true that Opacare and I had the same condition. In fact, that was partly why we started the operation in the first place. We wanted to find some sort of cure to help those with the condition.” The court actually murmured in surprise. Dusk paused, confused for a moment. He wondered if he had somehow accomplished something else, directing the attention away from the former topic for the time being. His suspicions were confirmed when Celestia said, “Go on.” Keep talking! “We knew other ponies had the condition, and we wanted to see if we could come up with some way to help them. We did a few tests, and found similar results to what Doctor Irons found, though limited our resources were. Opacare, he—” Something in his voice caught, and he coughed. “—he evaluated a way to combat the rogue cells.” At this point, I’m just running circles around the question. But it doesn’t look like they’ve caught on yet. “So you three were trying to save ponies’ lives?” Luna clarified. “Yyes,” Dusk said, accidentally drawing out the sound. He quietly berated himself for doing so, knowing that it sounded suspicious. Luna, however, seemed satisfied with his answer. “And did you ever find a cure?” “Only a temporary one.” As the Princess waited for elaboration, Dusk glanced around. His bluff had captured the attention of everypony in the court, much to his surprise. He needed to be careful, though; one slip of the tongue could still spell disaster. “I’m sure you can guess what I mean.” Luna paused, thinking. The court waited tensely for the prosecutor to say something. Suddenly her eyes lit up, and she looked to Dusk. “His blood. The white blood cells and the antibodies.” Dusk nodded slowly. “Yes. We could use him to save other ponies.” The court excitedly broke out into hushed whispers, impressed even more by Opacare Prose’s actions. Dusk remained silent as they talked amongst themselves, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. Okay. I’ve still got this. I think. Celestia called for order once more. “Impressive, Dusk. The nature of your operation certainly was noble.” “Was?” “Oh, pardon me. It just sounds like it’s all over.” She looked away, out of respect. “Especially since your… partners… have gone.” “Ah.” Dusk wasn’t sure whether to thank Celestia for understanding, or to smack himself for making it obvious that he wasn’t sure he could continue the operation. Celestia turned to the jury. “I’d like to take a quick break from the examination to ask the jury what they think: was Dusk’s operation negative in nature?” A majority of the jury answered no, much to Dusk’s relief. Only Blueblood dared to go against the consensus, glaring at the pewter stallion angrily. He looked like a white lemon that had its juices removed and its insides taken. The sight was enough to temporarily lift Dusk’s spirits. Princess Celestia nodded, turning back to Dusk. “I myself am in agreement with the jury. I do not think your operation was malicious in its original intent. “However.” Prosa cringed. Well, that was only going to last for so long. “We still have yet to answer what you know and how you were involved with Opacare Prose’s disappearance.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve managed to dodge the question several times, and open up new paths to explore, but I would ask that you refrain from doing that from now on. Is that understood?” He hesitated, still hoping to not answer. “Is that understood?” she asked again, more forcefully this time. “Understood,” he said quickly. She nodded. “Good. Luna, you may proceed.” Luna stepped forward once more, though she appeared to be tiring. The trial had been going on for quite a long time. “Dusk Prosa. Tell the court how you were involved in Opacare Prose’s disappearance.” He didn’t answer, his mind racing. He could say something convoluted; but Celestia’s tone told him that she wasn’t particularly eager to continue playing around. Perhaps he could say something small; but that would disatisfy the court. If he said anything at all, though, there was a chance he could reveal too much. What was the smartest route, then? Luna cleared her throat. “Tell the court how you were involved in Opacare Prose’s disappearance,” she repeated. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all. So he didn’t. Luna glared at him. “Dusk Prosa. Answer the prompt.” He stiffened his jaw, swallowed his voice, and stared ahead, defiant. I can’t stay silent forever. I have to say something soon. “Dusk Prosa!” She banged her hoof on the floor, making several ponies flinch. He blinked, staring at the Princess. “Er, sorry. I was… thinking.” She fumed, but nodded anyway. “Well, go on then.” He looked away, knowing his response would not be well received. “I… I can’t.” One could cut the resulting silence with a blade—but one word would suffice. “What?” Princess Luna whispered. “You heard me.” “Y-you can’t?” She sounded more confused than angry. “Why? Do you refuse to answer?” “No. I just… can’t.” He looked back at the Princess, his frown deepened into a painful grimace. “Why, though?” she asked again. He stared at her, but instead of looking intense, he just looked tired. “I… I’m sorry. I can’t answer that.” Silence once again filled the court, everypony shocked by Dusk’s response. Irons was the most confused, while Princess Celestia had a guarded expression. She stared at him intently, and he saw a question in her eyes that he would not answer. “He’s crazy,” Blueblood whispered; then, with more conviction, “He’s crazy! No, he’s stupid! Idiotic! We must beat the information out of him!” “Calm down, sir!” Fancy yelled over him, glaring at the noble. “I’m sure there’s a reason why Dusk cannot say anything!” Arguments erupted in the booth, and Twilight and her friends did her best to calm them down. Luna was at a loss for words, though she did not seem at all furious with Dusk. Celestia kept staring at him, and he did his best not to shrink under her gaze. Finally, she spoke. “You have a reason for this omission?” He nodded slowly. “And… it is very important?” Again, he nodded. “… You realize that you cannot withhold this information forever.” His lack of response did not hide his silent confirmation. Celestia sighed. The jury booth managed to recover its composure, and the ponies anxiously waited for her next statement. Dusk locked his legs, trying to hide his shaky limbs. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Sun Princess spoke. “… It would appear that our stallion is too tired to continue for today. As am I.” She glanced out the window. “In fact, it is approaching late afternoon.” “Princess?” Twilight questioned. “This court still has questions that need to be answered; but I can extend the trial for two more day. As such, I will call a forty-eight hour recess to allow Dusk Prosa to collect his thoughts.” She stared at him. “If he does not answer the questions posed during the second trial, he will be thrown in jail on grounds of suspected murder, and another trial will be prepared.” Dusk gulped. “Nobles, you are excused for today. I expect to see you all in two days for the continuation of this case.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “Very well.” She looked back at Dusk. “The trial will be held off until forty-eight hours have passed,” she repeated sternly. “Until then, you will be escorted to Canterlot Prison for the time being.” With a bang of her hoof, the order was followed. The nobles began leaving, Blueblood casting Dusk a nasty look. Fancy, however, smiled kindly at Dusk. The Princesses soon left afterwards, though Luna had a strange look on her face; almost as if she was amused. Irons walked up to Dusk, his eyes wides. “What the bloody hell just happened?” he asked, bewildered. The pewter stallion shook his head. “I just… talked.” “Talked?! You bloody well orated your own escape!” He frowned. “Well, temporary escape. An escape nonetheless!” “You sound surprised.” “Dusk, I have not seen anypony render Princess Luna speechless, and make Prince Blueblood look like a fool, in the span of a few hours!” Dusk let out a slow breath. “I suppose it is quite impressive. If temporary.” Irons shook his head. “You really are a strange stallion. What will you think of to shock us next, I wonder?” Dusk didn’t answer. He walked away, leaving Irons confused. He walked up to the guards who had just entered, his hoof raised in front of him. They were the same guards who had “greeted” him outside of the castle, and they looked surprised to see him. Dusk smirked, but his expression was weak and tired. “Told you I’m going to jail.” They glanced at each other, before one of them procured a set of hoofcuffs and clamped them on his limbs. They began escorting him to the prison, leaving behind a number of befuddled ponies. None of them noticed a lone, exhausted tear leak out onto the pavement.