//------------------------------// // Chapter XIV: Making Sense // Story: The World Within the Web // by Lord Max //------------------------------// Chapter XIV: Making Sense * * * * * * “The Logos is the truth, the Logos is the right, the Logos is the truth and the code of our world. It is by this design that we are given form and soul, it is by this design that the Web exists, it is by this design that we were set in motion. Through the Logos we obtain wisdom, through the Logos we obtain reason, through the Logos we obtain the truth and the code of our world…” “...for in the beginning the Web as we know did not exist, and there was no connection or methods to cross the great oceans and divides between each place, and the sites of men rose and fell without knowledge of one another. But in time, when the sites became aware of one another, there was confusion and the pains of birth of a new world, and the discoveries made men capricious and untrusting in the order of this born Web. And when gold and steel changed hands, so the hearts and cloaks of men changed and turned to violence, until all the world could have become a burnt offering. “Only at this time did the will of the Logos see fit to deliver a new balance to a changing world, where a Web once unbound by law or regulation would now bow to the peace and order of an objective right. When Our Founder found his home in Central polluted by pirates and thieves who preyed on the weak, he searched this new world and found others like him, and together in the Scouring of Central they drove out the wicked and created a divine governance that would encompass all people. When the original High Administration saw that a common law was needed, they began the sacred records that formed an Authority, to create a just and forever lasting peace…” — Excerpts from “The Books of Black and White”  * * * * * * “It once was that Our Founder heard of a man who, seeing a charging horse about to run another person over in the streets, pushed the stranger out of the way and took the blow himself. With his dying breath, this man asked if the stranger was hurt. Our Founder remarked that this man truly understood the Way of the Moderator.” — Excerpt from the “Book of Encounters,” compiled in “The Books of Black and White” * * * * * * Coin Counter could not feel at ease in the streets of the Dreamweave. The colored buildings seemed to loom over him when he walked by, threatening him with homes that did not want him there, and crowds that demanded he leave. The worst part was that it was hardly worth the trouble worrying about now, when they seemed safe enough. Walking up from the ships had been harder than this: there, they had been forced into the center of attention, pushing their way through the mobs, surrounded by the city watch, only a moment away from an unkind word, then a bared sword, then a sudden shock. Coin was no stranger to fear. Visiting the Citadel made him nervous. Delving into the Deep Web made him terrified; Coin could still remember shaking so hard when they had reached the perimeter of the raid that one of his fellow knights had thought he had been about to collapse. Being knighted had made him afraid, though not in the same way. So had that night in Reddit, when he had made the choice to switch whom he served forever. At that moment, all he was doing was walking down a partially deserted street, with a band of other armed people at his side. And yet he couldn't shake a feeling of danger; that he was stepping in enemy territory, somewhere he was not meant to be, somewhere where he was not welcome. Somewhere where he was hated. Coin didn't doubt that most of the people in the Dreamweave cared very little about current trouble with the Brony Collective, and likely cared very little about him either... but at the same time, he could not forget the screaming, cursing men of the mobs either. The idea of being trapped in the crowd again made him uneasy. Shaking his head, he tried to remain in the present. That was where they needed him, anyways. Alongside Dustario, Coin was walking briskly down a part of the city called Sighing Street, which led to the area the Authority Peacekeepers were investigating. Several other members of the Honest Friends were beside them; they had had barely enough time to reach the rooms they were staying in before they had received orders to report to one Do-Not-Lead-Our-Family-Into-Depravity Blair immediately. The portion of the Honest Friends that were to aid in the investigation numbered at over a dozen, though only part of that total was meeting with the Mods today. “Six save us,” Daria Faust said as they walked in a close-knit group down the street, “Six save us, I mean, I can't believe we're back out already.” She sounded nervous, a feeling that Coin could understand completely. And it was apparent that the female member of the Three Fausts had, like Coin, been brought along purely for her help in the investigation. Though she was nominally a member of the honor guard, she confessed to having little skill in arms, and had had considerable trouble putting on her sword belt before they left. She bit her lip while staring up at the buildings, as though expecting something to fly out of them at any moment. “I don't like it either,” said one of the other Honest Friends. Coin hadn't met him on the journey from the Blogosphere, but the bespectacled Brony had introduced himself as Hans later on. “They didn't seem too pleased to see us earlier. Are you sure it's safe?” Hans asked while he rubbed his dark fingers on the golden apple necklace dangling from his throat. “Maybe so, or maybe not,” replied Dustario, “but we've been ordered by the Lord Moderator to meet with this 'Depravity' person immediately. We're hardly in a position to refuse, are we? Besides,” he said as he tossed a grin to the back of the group, “we have our steadfast protectors here.” To the rear, Crispin Peck sensed he was being spoken about and waved happily to Dustario and the others. The diminutive Honest Friend hadn't spoken a word since Dustario introduced him, but seemed extremely cheerful. He was short but meaty, muscled, and well-suited to the armor he wore, which had the Honest Eye printed upon it. Kriseroff smiled as well. “Har! It is Kriseroff's pleasure to protect his smaller, skinnier friends, Dustario-friend!” Suddenly though, his face darkened. “But he will need food soon. Hungry, very hungry. Hopefully the Mods have food, or he will need to eat Crispin! Har!” Crispin looked aghast and made an odd clacking noise when he heard this, but after some words of reassurance and apology from Kriseroff he seemed as spirited as ever. Striding forward to the front, the Generous Friend named Theosyrius chuckled. “Apple-eating cannibals,” he said with a thin smile, “a strange sight, indeed.” Theosyrius had been sent with them to represent the Warden of Generosity. He wore a waistcoat and half-cape as pale as the streaks in his dyed hair and beard. He had introduced himself politely, but Coin still wasn’t sure of his character. He was proper and well-dressed, but he had a way of talking with a self-superior edge that Coin wasn’t altogether fond of. “Well, one shouldn't hope for trouble,” Theosyrius continued, “but it helps to be prepared for it. Hopefully a fully armed group with three extra guards brought for good measure deters any would-be assassins. Besides,” he said with a pat to his belt, “one always needs a bit of... practice, when it comes to the sword.” Hanging on his side was a razor-thin, pearl-handled dueling blade, which Theosyrius placed a gentle hand on. Someone in the back snorted. “Leave the fighting to us, thin-man,” huffed Red Autumn, the Honest Friend with six-pointed stars carved into his hands. The squat, bald man was trailing behind Kriseroff and Crispin, trying to keep up with his short legs. “Wouldn't pick my teeth with a little thing like that.” Theosyrius sent back a smug, sideways look. “I trained four years in dueling, I'll have you know.” “I fought in the Chan,” shot back Red Autumn. “Think your little school teaches killing Channic? How 'bout Mods? I've done more of both than I could count.” “Har! I did not know Red-friend could count!” bellowed Kriseroff. Dustario smiled. “Well, arithmetic aside, I should not expect 'killing Mods' to come in handy here. I'm certain this man Depravity can be reasoned with.” “Trying to reason with depravity has caused a fair share of grief, in my experience,” said Theosyrius dryly. While the others joked, Coin kept his eyes on the buildings along the sides of the street. They all seemed either half-ruined or abandoned completely, with only husks remaining of the homes that used to stand. Coin had been told that this part of the city, “Nightside”, was largely deserted aside from criminals and those who had nowhere else to go, but it was strange to actually see. It occurred to Coin that he had never seen a place like this before; from the massive halls of Central, to the packed sub-sections of Reddit, to the color-filled streets surrounding the Citadel of the Six, he had never seen a city that was simply abandoned. Decayed and troubled, yes, but this place looked as though it had gone past that long ago—its people had just given up and left. And what made that happen? Coin thought curiously. Was it only time, or is there someone to blame? Dustario seemed to notice Coin's concerns, and nudged his shoulder. “Feeling well, friend? You haven't said a word since we left the Palace.” “Fine,” Coin replied. “Fine, really. This place though... I've never seen anything like it.” Dustario nodded his head. “It is odd, isn't it? When we arrived, the streets seemed full of people, but now we walk through a whole quarter of the city, and it seems practically empty. It's almost as thou—" Suddenly, he stopped. “Hold on,” Dustario said. Looking forward, Coin could see that his eyes were fixed on something printed on a wall up ahead. “Is that...” He ran towards it quickly, leaving the rest of them behind. Daria shouted out a protest. “Dusty! We need to stay together!” she called after him. He had already turned a corner, however, and once they caught up they found him standing before a wall plastered with posters and graffiti. Coin was confused for a moment, then realized what he was staring at. On one of posters was a singing figure garbed in pink robes, with the question “Are you a Laughing Friend?” printed above and below the picture. On another, with a small green heart painted over it, was the image of a single golden eye, with the words “Are you an Honest Friend?”. When Dustario saw the rest had arrived, he turned and grinned. “Brony slogans and Brony signs. See that, Sir Coin? There were friends of ours walking here before us.” Theosyrius did not seem comforted. He walked up to the wall and moved aside a stack of wooden pallets leaning against it, then peered behind them. “Friends,” he said gravely, “and something else. Look.” When they saw the message behind it, Red and Kriseroff spat, while Hans and Daria went pale. Coin read the words, but did not recognize them: splashed in faded white paint was a different question, “Who is the Oathbreaker?” It struck him as familiar, somehow, but he could not place where he had heard it before. Coin Counter was lost, but that the message was significant was clear. The rest of the party stared at the words silently. Finally, he asked “What does–“ “Dog!” Kriseroff suddenly yelled. He grabbed the two people closest to him and pointed, as a shaggy black dog came bolting towards them. Coin instinctively put a hand on his sword-hilt, but it wasn't needed: the dog's tail was wagging happily, and as soon as it approached Kriseroff it immediately sat down and began panting. Kriseroff gave a deep cry and picked up the dog in his massive arms, letting it lick his face while he laughed. Crispin was rubbing the dog's stomach gleefully when someone called out to them. Gazing down the street, Coin spotted a man standing on the path further down. “Hey! That's my dog, if you don't mind. Come over here,” the man said. They followed, with Kriseroff still holding the dog, until they came to an open square with several people standing in it. In the center was a patch of dirt surrounded by empty stone benches, with several rundown buildings flanking each side. One of them had a faded sign and several Peacekeepers in front of it. The Peacekeepers were all wearing chain-mail or boiled leather with white uniforms, aside from one. A bored-looking man near the entrance had more black on his clothes than the others, showing his place as a knight in the Authority. He was older than Coin, but still relatively young, with short blond hair that was threatening to recede long before the man's time. He had his arms crossed when the Bronies came into view. “Oh goody, the horse-lovers have arrived. Now we're safe,” the knight said. “Please stop emasculating my dog further, and put him down.” Kriseroff reluctantly did exactly that, looking mournful as he did. The dog began wiggling and pawing, throwing his head back towards his master to bark. “Here boy,” said the knight, “stop humiliating me and come over, damn you.” The dog froze, stared at his master, then immediately flopped onto the ground and began rolling back and forth without a care in the world. The knight stared at his pet with a look somewhere between disappointment and resignation. “Some guard dog you turned out to be.” He sighed, turning to the group with a mock-bow. “Sir Depravity Blair, at your service. Yes, it is my real name. You've already met Roger,” Blair said with a gesture towards the black dog, who started to wag his tail upon hearing his name. Roger was still rolling around in front of Kriseroff, but now was shaking himself from side-to-side and kicking his legs in the air as well. It was the Generous Friend who returned the greeting. “Theosyrius Kang, at your service,” he said with a smile and a bow. “Of my honest friends, this one is called Dustario. The giant at the back whom dear Roger has taken a liking to is Kriseroff Hathi, and the ones to the sides of him are Crispin Peck on the right and Red Autumn on the left. Miss Faust is our lady-companion, the gentleman in the glasses is Hans Rahjalten, and if I am not mistaken this is Sir Coin Counter.” “Sir Coin Counter?” replied Blair with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a joke?” “Certainly not, Sir Depravity,” Theosyrius replied with slightly more emphasis on the knight's own name than necessary. “Sir Coin is a true and tested knight, from what he tells me, and it is known that Mods never lie. Is that not right, Sir Coin?” “Ah, yes,” Coin stammered, “well, formerly. I was formerly a knight, is what I mean, not that I formerly never lied.” “Of course,” Sir Depravity said, his eyes narrowing on Coin. “I'm happy to see that I've been saddled with traitors as well as profligates for this case. My luck.” “You're mistaken,” Dustario spoke up defensively. “My friend is no traitor, and we are no profligates.” “That remains to be seen. Isn't that right, Roger?” The dog barked and stood back up, shook the dirt from himself, and pranced back to Depravity's side. “He's useless for the most part,” said Sir Depravity, “but at least he always agrees.” He lowered a hand and scratched the dog's ear. “So, what do you want, exactly?” “Just to be briefed on what is known, and what is not,” said Theosyrius with a courteous bow. “The Brony Collective would simply like to take a look at the scene of this heinous crime so we can begin proving our friends' innocence.” “Uh-huh.” The knight rolled his eyes. “I would say no, but I have orders from Lord Halforth saying I can't, so do whatever it is you want and leave. Do yourselves a favor and don't tamper with what's left: most of the actual evidence was carried off ages ago, but that doesn't mean you get to play around with whatever you want. And if you need anything else, please hesitate to ask me and go talk to one of my subordinates instead. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be over in my 'anti-horse-love corner' in that direction.” With that, he walked off, with Roger in tow. “Sir Depravity-Sir is rude,” Kriseroff blurted out. “I can still hear you,” Sir Depravity-Sir called out as he was walking away. “Sir Depravity-Sir has good hearing,” Kriseroff said with a grin. “Try to control yourself, Mister Kriseroff,” an exasperated Theosyrius said, once the knight was out of earshot. “You are currently one offended knight or one over-snuggled dog away from an international incident, and I don't need to add that to our list of concerns. Still,” he said with a sigh, “that probably went as well as could be hoped. At least he gave us leave to look around.” Dustario nodded. “Fan out, everyone. We aren't sure how much time we have, so try to cover everything. You each know your own expertise, so find your places and learn what you can. Crispin, Kriseroff, and Red,” he said to the three Honest Eyes, “I know you're not part of the investigation team, so just help us however you feel you can. Don't break anything, Kris.” “I will not break or touch anything if that's what Dustario-friend so wants,” Kriseroff grumbled. “And also will not speak or move or yell for the dog, is that right?” “Move if you like,” Dustario said, “the rest are forbidden.” The team broke up into different parts, spreading out into the square to look around and find other Peacekeepers to speak with. Aside from them, the square was empty, surrounded only by sagging or half-ruined buildings. Coin doubted that many people would hang around this place even in the best of times, but it seemed that the recent murder and the presence of the Peacekeepers had driven everyone away. The square itself might have been impressive once, but now all that was left were the shells of shops and homes, their forgotten shutters and doors hanging open and moving quietly with the wind. On the ground, however, Coin noticed two flags, one colored red that was placed directly in front of a dilapidated tavern, and a yellow one that stood just behind the street that the Bronies had just come from. Someone must have seen him looking at the flags, as a friendly voice said, “Those mark where the bodies were found. Nasty business.” The speaker was a young man with short auburn hair, dressed in a white uniform. Next to him was a woman clothed in the same dress, very pale with large, sunken black eyes, high cheekbones and dark hair that was only a half-inch or so long. She tilted her head in curiosity when the Bronies approached, but the man extended a welcoming hand to Dustario. “You the Brony reps? Nice to meet yah,” he said as he shook hands. “This here is Abigail Cawtler, and I’m Perseverance Cartwright. Call me Percy.” “Dustario. And yes, we are the Bronies. A pleasure to meet you, Perseverance.” “I’m serious, please call me Percy.” “If you wanted to see the corpses, they’ve already been moved,” said Abigail. “The rot set in after a day. They were messy when I last saw them. By now they’re probably brown and green and buried.” She sighed wistfully and poked at the red flag in front of her. Theosyrius bowed. “Truthfully, we were not expecting they would still be in a proper condition. We were hoping, however, that you might be able to tell us a bit more about the crime committed here. It’s our duty to determine the truth of it, after all.” “Sure thing,” said Percy. He walked over to Abigail and rested his hand on the flag. “Two stills, but you already knew that. Sir Harald and his squire both, and neither of ‘em should’ve been here. No one saw ‘em leave, no one claims to know they were gone ‘til morning, when they found the rooms empty. Probably left five or six hours after the evening recitations, wandered out here, and wound up dead.” “What can you tell us about the murderers?” asked Daria Faust. “Other than that they might be your friends?” Percy asked with a raised eyebrow. “Not a whole lot. At least three of them, but I say four. The city watch might be a pack o’ reprobates, but they can at least recognize footprints. By the time we got here, the whole plaza had been stomped to Hell by all the guards, but they left the trails intact.” He extended a hand to Abigail, and she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a folder. Percy reached inside, took out a solitary piece of paper, and beckoned the group to look at it. “This is a sketch of the prints we found,” he said as he traced a line across the page. It was a simple mock-up of the plaza, copying the layouts of the buildings and providing several sets of the tracks that were individually colored. “This red line here? That’s Sir Harald, far as we could tell. Walked out from that way,” he pointed to the street that Coin and the others had come from, “then came up over here to this tavern, the Laughing Man. “There were three other people around it—my guess is that Sir Harald saw the first one standing in front of the building, walked over, and then was jumped by the other two when he wasn’t looking. If those two were hiding in that corner over there, it would’ve been hard to see ‘em at night.” “I’ve seen scenes like this one, and tracks alone can be misleading,” said Hans. He took off his glasses and polished them on a handkerchief. “You mentioned that there were at least three people involved. How are you so sure?” “Three wounds,” replied Abigail with a glazed look, “ two knives and a bolt. Six inch wound to the side, seven inch wound to the stomach, crossbow bolt to the back. Three different angles, one knife serrated and one not. It was messy. They needed more people to cut him than they hoped, so they all came quickly, and chopped into him before he could realize it.” She spoke in an odd monotone, as though she were talking about something far less gruesome. Coin found it strangely unsettling. Percy nodded. “The wounds were from three completely different angles, and three completely different weapons. Plus it matches the tracks we found. It’s possible that it was just one or two changing positions and weapons, but it ain’t likely.” “If there were at least three killers, why are our friends being accused?” Red Autumn asked forcefully. He crossed his arms and looked as grim as possible at the Peacekeepers. “There are only two of them. Not enough.” “At least they can count,” said Sir Depravity. He had wandered back over to his fellow Mods, seemingly incapable of not butting into the conversation, while Roger wagged his tail behind him. “Yes, there’s a difference between two and three, but your diplomats could have easily had some friends of their own. One of them had ties to criminals, we’re told. And Lord Aureliano thinks there’s some sort of underground pack of subversives and traitors in the city, plotting to take it over. Or maybe your leaders sent him the help they needed.” He shrugged. Crispin and Kriseroff looked horrified at the suggestion, and Red Autumn seemed mortally offended. “I won’t hear insults against my lord, not from you or anyone else.” Crispin nodded along with what his fellow Honest Eye said. “Your lord? That would be the big ugly mountain, yes?” Sir Depravity said with an amused look. “And you three are his fan-club, or something?” Crispin and Kriseroff nodded again, but Red snarled. “The Warden is infallible. Outsiders like you should remember that.” “Oh, I’m sure I’ll keep it in mind.” “Pardon me,” Dustario said, eager to interrupt the conversation, “but my honest friend has a point. How could our friends be accused of this? Meaning no offense, I fail to see how this evidence you’ve collected points to them.” The knight sighed contemptuously. “I really hoped I wouldn’t need to explain all of this. Alright, you? You’re in charge?” He pointed to Theosyrius. “Come with me. I don’t have the patience to talk to the rest of you.” He walked off without another word. Dustario and Theosyrius looked to one another, then turned back to the rest of the group. “Hm, it seems I’ll be getting a heart-to-heart,” said Theosyrius, adjusting his lapel. “The rest of you just, ah, just stay here then.” “You shouldn’t be long,” Dustario said. “We’ll just find out what we can while you’re off, alright?” Theosyrius bowed and followed behind Depravity before he disappeared inside one of the abandoned buildings, leaving the rest of them behind. The Peacekeeper called Percy rolled his eyes after they had gone. “Sorry about the sir. I bet he wasn’t the best first impression yah could’ve gotten.” “He doesn’t…” stammered Daria Faust, “he doesn’t seem to… well, he doesn’t seem to like us, I mean.” Percy shrugged. “Sir Depravity’s like that to everyone. Don’t take it too personal-like.” “It’s fine,” Dustario said with a wave of his hand, “one needs a thick skin in this business.” He looked towards the building that the knight and Theosyrius had disappeared into. “Still, I wouldn’t mind knowing what the man has to say. Why are our friends under suspicion?” Percy held up his hands. “You’re askin’ the wrong man, there. I mean, I know most of it, but sir’s the one that’s concerned with all this political stuff, him and the judges. Abigail and Cellia and yours truly are just here to check the crime scene, investigate where we can on the Dreamweave, and help however Lord Halforth wants us to.” “Who’s Cellia?” Hans asked. “Cellia? Oh right, I suppose you haven’t met her yet. ‘Ay Cellia!” he yelled into the nearby tavern, “Come out and meet the Bronies, would yah?” “Just a moment!” a woman’s voice replied from inside. “Probably lookin’ over the place for the fifth time,” Percy said. “Yeah, she’s the wiz-kid ‘round here. Lot ‘o commendations for her investigative work, back in the Devien Isles. First day she was here, she must’ve walked around this courtyard twelve times, retracing steps, checkin’ all the places they might have to hide. Good work, though she’s not nearly as much a hand with the dead body stuff as Abigail.” Abigail Cawter gave a small smile when she heard the compliment, though Coin thought it was an odd thing to be flattered by. She gave a strange impression, but that didn’t seem to prevent Dustario from moving in. “Field examination, eh? Sounds like exciting work.” He gave a handsome smile. She shrugged. “Not really. They don’t normally move much.” “Do anything else fun?” Abigail thought for a moment. “I like observation.” “Ah? You like art, or animals, or…” “People.” “Oh.” Dustario blinked. “Oh. Do they ever... have anything to say about that?” “No. Not really.” The situation was rescued when another person emerged from the building, a woman of dark skin and medium height. She wore a well-fitted uniform, mostly white with lines of black here and there, a chestplate of the same coloring, and a black, wide-brimmed hat. Her hair was black as well, tied back into a tight, efficient bun that would have allowed her to wear a helmet easily. Her face was graced with wide lips, round eyes that were a dark green, and high, prominent cheekbones. She stood very straight and walked forward vigorously as she approach, a pad of paper under her arm and a pencil tucked behind one of her large ears. “Hello? Percy, you needed—” She stopped when she noticed the rest of the group. “Oh, hello,” she said while putting her right fist to her left shoulder in a respectful salute and bowing her head. “I am Cellia Ravenry, Peacekeeper of the Moderator Authority, currently in service to Sir Depravity Blair. You must be the Bronies.” Dustario stopped looking strangely at Abigail so as to introduce their group. “Indeed we are, ma’am. My name is Dustario of the Honest Friends, and it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a bow. After starting with himself, Dustario began to introduce each of them in turn, giving their name and rank. Each time, Cellia bowed and and answered politely.  “Pleased to meet you, Mister Kriseroff,” she said politely when she approached the man. She paused, then asked, “Hm. Forgive me, but you seem familiar. Have you ever been to Central?” Kriseroff opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, then closed it again suddenly and looked at Dustario. Cellia seemed confused, until Dustario spoke up. “He’s been forbidden from speaking until I feel that he can be trusted with the ability. Or until I stop enjoying the recent quiet.” The silent friend shot his leader a dirty look, but Cellia laughed softly. When she turned to Crispin Peck, she asked, “I suppose you can speak, yes?” Crispin grinned, but shook his head. He opened his mouth as if to stick out his tongue… only to reveal that he had none. Cellia and Percy jumped back, as did Coin when he saw the maiming, while Abigail leaned in more closely to see the wound. Crispin seemed amused by the attention, but Cellia apparently still felt the need for an apology. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that…” she stammered. Crispin interrupted her with a carefree wave of his hand, then began to make an odd sound with the back of his throat. It took a moment for Coin to realize that he was laughing. “My honest friend might not be able to speak,” said Dustario, “but he’s always had a certain amount to say. He’s actually Channic by birth, and happened to have been home during the First Rise.” The tongueless man in question nodded wistfully at Dustario’s explanation. “Around the same time,” he continued, “he received his injury. It was… actually, was it before or after you converted, friend?” Crispin tapped his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. Whatever his memory of the incident was, he seemed to sincerely not recall or care. Cellia still seemed slightly shaken, but she recovered well. “Well,” she said, before a short pause. “Well,” she repeated, “it is good to meet you. I suppose you are all hoping for some information regarding the murders?” “If you don’t mind,” Dustario said. “Coin, Daria, and Red, could you join Miss Ravenry and learn what we need to know? I’ll need a moment with Mister Cartwright and Miss Cawtler over here.” Daria nodded while Red stomped behind her and Coin followed behind him. Cellia led them to the yellow flag that marked where Sir Harald’s squire was found. “The placement of the bodies was strange,” she said as they approached, “Sir Harald obviously walked out to the front of that tavern, the Laughing Man, but his squire stayed here. There weren’t any footprints that suggested that he went any further than this spot.” She planted her feet down on a patch of ground just around the corner. “My first question is, why did he stay behind?” Daria piped up immediately. “Maybe he didn’t want to follow Sir Harald? Or he was ordered to stay back?” “It could be,” Cellia answered. “Not wanting to follow Sir Harald could be explained by simple nerves: it was night, he was only a squire, and this place can be dangerous after dark. If he was ordered to stay behind, that begs the question of why again.” Coin looked more closely. He was not as accustomed to crime scenes as some in the Knight Regulators, but simple observation and logic could get one far on its own. Moving his head slightly, he could see that the wall in front would completely cover anyone standing behind it, letting him see into the plaza and observe Dustario and the others, even while they likely couldn’t see him. “He could have stayed as a kind of look-out,” Coin said. “If you, ah, if you tried standing right here, I suppose you could see out there fairly clearly.” Cellia nodded. “That was my thought as well.” She walked out from the corner and pointed towards the Laughing Man. “The Books of Black and White tell us that the simplest answer is often the best, but assuming that the squire wasn’t staying behind without orders, Harald may have told him to remain here to keep an eye out for others. If they were expecting trouble, Sir Harald may have wanted to go first, so the squire might have a chance to escape if things turned poorly.” “Or he was a coward, and let his master be killed,” Red said grouchily. “It’s not impossible,” Cellia admitted. “Though that wouldn’t explain why he didn’t simply run. It’s hard to say exactly when the two were struck down, but it must have been fairly soon after one another. If Sir Harald had to walk all the way out there, why wouldn’t the squire turn back right away?” “Hmm, good point,” Daria Faust said. She seemed more comfortable now that she was surrounded by armed Moderators and wading deeper into the nuances of the scene. She’s not used to danger, but she knows a puzzle when she see’s it, Coin thought. “Do you know why they were here to begin with?” she asked with a quick glance at the buildings around her. “It doesn’t seem like a place for a Mod and his squire, I mean.” The Peacekeeper sighed. “No, that I am less sure of. I spoke with several people at the Palace, and none of them saw the two leave, or mentioned hearing anything about where they were going. They came out here for a reason, but whatever it may have been, they told no one.” She frowned. “And that’s another thing. Sir Harald had brought guards with him to the Dreamweave, but he came out here with no one but his squire. Why?” Red Autumn scoffed. “Maybe he didn’t want to be seen. Place is a den of scum, plenty of disgusting things to buy and see. Moderators are all the same. Talk about sin and profligates in the day, then do it themselves when people aren’t looking. Came out here to buy something special, bit of Trance, maybe, then it goes south with the dealer and he winds up dead. Simple.” Coin noticed a discomfort in Cellia’s face when Red suggested that a knight might be crooked. “It’s… not impossible,” she admitted again, “but I don’t think so. I read through Sir Harald’s profile, and if there’s one thing he was not, it’s corrupt.” Red huffed. “Alright, so he walks out here, gets attacked by some bum for his wallet, and that’s it. Easy! There’s a hundred reasons why, and none of them involve our friends.” Cellia was not convinced. “If it was a mugging, why wouldn’t the thieves take anything? And they would have had to have been some very bold muggers to rob a Knight Censor and his squire as well, and unusually well-equipped besides.” “Maybe that was just it,” Daria suggested. “They rob two men wandering around at night, realize too late who they were, and run before someone could catch them.” “If being caught was their worry, why leave the body out where anyone could find it? There were not enough people around for us to have a single witness, so it seems unlikely that they would be concerned with being spotted. I suppose it could have just been a panicked mistake, but in my opinion this was far too coordinated to be something spur-of-the-moment.” Cellia looked down at the yellow flag, where a body once lay, with a determined expression. “I’ve seen a share of robberies gone wrong, but this wasn’t one. This is assassination, without a doubt in my mind.” “But why?” Coin blurted out. If there was one thing that had to be known when investigating a crime, it is the motive. Coin had learned that well enough during his time in the Authority, but it was a simple fact that even an amateur would know. Why Sir Harald was in Nightside was important, and why he had come with no one save his squire was as well — but why someone would kill him was key. Cellia seemed as uncertain as he was. “It is hard to say for sure. But Sir Harald did not make friends here in the Dreamweave, from what I understand. Several people were against him… including your friends, if I’m not mistaken.” Red Autumn scowled. “I won’t hear accusations against them. The Warden has said that they will be freed, and they will.” “That depends on whether their innocence can be established,” Cellia said in the most official way she could manage, straightening her back as she talked. She certainly seemed more professional than Sir Depravity or Percy, standing so firmly and speaking so formally. From Coin’s experience that was the mark of a truly dedicated student in the Authority — not just someone who joined the Moderators for the pay or the adventure, but a true believer hungry to prove their worth. He had seen many people like that in the academy. In fact, he himself had been one. Red’s scowl deepened when he heard that. “I’ll be back,” he said angrily as he stormed back to the others. Cellia looked at him closely as he walked past her, keeping a keen eye on how he moved. After he went by, she loosened and turned back to Coin and Daria Faust. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend him like that.” Daria waved her hand. “He’s always like that,” she said casually. “He wouldn’t be so angry if you were a Brony, like us I mean.” “I hope he’ll accept my apology when I get a chance,” Cellia said. She pulled the pencil out from behind her ear and started fidgeting with it. “I prefer to not have people angry with me.” “You’ll be fine,” Daria responded amiably. “So how long have you been a Peacekeeper?” she asked. “Three years. I took the position after I graduated from the Centrellian Academy of Culture and Guidance, and have been working under Sir Depravity since then.” “You prefered field work to squiring?” Coin asked. That was the usual case; after a student graduated from one of the academies, they would either become a squire under an assigned knight or join the Peacekeepers or Lawbringers instead. Being a squire essentially meant being tutored again for another few years, and was a good way to gain a knighthood, but for most Knight Censors this also meant little time chasing criminals and more time approving paintings and books. Not everyone who joined the Peacekeepers wished for a knighthood, or indeed received one, but those who did could count on far more experience in the field than the squire of the average Knight Censor would. Cellia nodded. “Yes, I received some offers for squire work, but I felt that a proper Moderator should have as much time on the ground as possible before they are knighted, and not wait for later. Thankfully, I had the recommendations to be able to work under” —  and here she paused before speaking in a voice of reverence and awe — “Lord Halforth.” She paused again, eyes seeming wistful at the thought of it, before coming back to the Web and speaking again to the people in front of her. “But yes, it was just as you said… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I heard your name earlier,” she said to Coin. Daria spoke up before he could. “He’s Coin Counter,” she said. Then she stopped suddenly, “Sir Coin Counter, I mean. Sorry, Sir Coin.” Sir Coin was about to tell Daria once again that she, and in fact no one, had to call him “sir”, when he noticed Cellia’s eyes light up. “You were a knight?" she asked excitedly. Her words began to speed up as she leaned in closely and shot out a dozen questions. “When were you knighted? Where did you serve? Were you a Knight Censor? If you were, are there any places you would recommend serving, because I’m looking for any advice I can on that. Actually, who knighted you, and how much combat have you seen, and also what academy did you join, that I’d like to know as well. Did you go to the same school as me? I thought I had seen you before, were you in Sir Kennan Doyles’ course on legal theory? I always— “ She stopped herself when she noticed that Coin was still trying to process the deluge of questions. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped back nervously. “Sorry, I’m just a bit curious about being a knight.” She straightened herself back up again, and tried to recover her formalness. “It has always been my goal, you see.” Though still a bit off-balance from the barrage of inquiry, Coin understood completely. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it wasn’t so long ago that I was doing the same thing. I was actually a Knight Regulator.” Cellia nodded, seeming deeply impressed regardless of the fact that there were thousands of Knight Regulators, and Coin was hardly a noteworthy one. “I considered joining them as well, sir. But when I heard about the good work being done by Lord Halforth,” she said with the same tone of near-worship upon pronouncing the Lord Moderator’s name that Coin had heard earlier, “I knew which I would choose. What was it like, sir?” Coin was about to answer truthfully that it had been mostly mundane desk-work occasionally interrupted by sheer terror, when Daria spoke up again. “It must have really exciting. You know that he helped take down the Silk Road?” “You were in the operation against the Silk Road?" Cellia asked, mystified. “It wasn’t really—well I was hardly... “ Coin stammered while regretting Daria’s choice of words for the second time. “No no, it’s fine,” Cellia said. “I understand that you would rather not talk about it right now. I’m sorry if was prying too much, sir,” she said sincerely, though with a bit of disappointment at having to miss the opportunity to pry. “It’s just, I don’t normally have the chance to ask a true knight for advice on this. Sir Depravity is… not always willing to help.” “You’ve wanted to be a knight a long time?” Daria asked. Cellia nodded, and looked very serious. “Both of my parents come from a long line of Moderators. One of my ancestors fought alongside Tristram the Twice-Dead during the Scouring of Central, and stood around him when he died his second time and came back. Another held the banner during the talks that brought the Painted Sea into our order. There were three Ravenry’s fighting for the true Authority during the Three-Year Apostasy of Sopan and his ilk, and my mother and father have lived their lives in service to it as well. It is my duty to continue that tradition.” She looked at Coin. “Were your parents knights as well?” “I… well I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. “I never knew my parents. I grew up in an Authority school in Central.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Cellia replied, with a sympathetic look. Before Coin could reply, Dustario called over to the them. “Over here, you three!” he said loudly. “I think Theo might be returning.” “Be right over!” Daria cried, seeming safely past her prior apprehension. Cellia and Coin Counter followed behind her as they strolled back to the others. A question lingered in Coin’s mind, however, and as they walked he cleared his throat. “I was wondering,” he said to Cellia after catching her attention, “wondering about something one of the others asked earlier. Why are the Bronies being accused, exactly? It seems as though anyone could be the killers.” Cellia looked as Coin curiously as they drew nearer to the group. “Did Sir Depravity not tell you all? Just the night before it happened, they we— “ She was interrupted by Dustario calling out again. “Look alive, friends,” he said, “here they come.” The two had emerged out of a building on the side, but had been talking for some time after coming out. Now, however, Sir Depravity Blair sauntered past the others and Theosyrius walked behind him, approached Dustario with a meaningful look. “I fear that I shall need to cut my time here short, Dustario. Can you spare any men to escort me back to the Palace?” Dustario nodded. “Kris, head back with Theosyrius and make sure he gets there in one piece. Will you need another?” “I can go, if needed,” Coin Counter said. The others would be safe with the two remaining Honest Friends and the four Moderators, but Coin still didn’t like the look of Nightside and a small party of just Kriseroff and Theosyrius might still be in danger. He was sure that the others would get along well enough without him anyways. “I would appreciate it, if you could spare him,” Theosyrius Kang said to Dustario. He seemed anxious to leave, but also anxious to walk through Nightside again: Coin couldn’t help but wonder where the cocksure confidence from earlier had gone. Kang was fingering the pearl hilt of the thin sword at his belt nervously. Dustario looked to Coin. “Well, I would hate to lose your talents out here, but it would probably be best. Stay safe, friend. But what business do you have at the Palace, Theo?” “Lady Brushshape will need some word about what was found here, best sooner rather than later. And our friends are still rotting in their prison cells,” he said with a worried look. “If what Sir Depravity says is true, I should like to speak with them.” * * * * * * “With such a massive organization as the Authority, it is inevitable that it encompass dozens of partnerships, interest groups, committees, sub-committees, and staffers in order to accommodate such a wide range of needs. Still, it is as true today as it has been for some time that there are only a few key, highly regarded orders whose servants work under the names ‘Moderators’. They are detailed below: “The Knight Regulators operate in the realms of trade and commerce, working with tax collectors, bankers, and businessmen, and supervising the shipping, receiving, and selling of goods across the Internet. Some serve as agents of the mighty Centrelllian Bank, while others may work in the Anti-Piracy Squadrons or other organizations dedicated to curbing smuggling or the trade of illegal products. “The Knight Arbiters focus on resolving disputes and checking smaller, more day-to-day crimes that nevertheless fall under Authority jurisdiction, rather than that of local powers. In regions with proud and individualistic cultures, such as the Land of Faces, Arbiters act as a neutral middle ground that is useful for ending conflict while allowing the participants to save face. Besides this, Knight Aribiters are often thought of as a ‘catch-all’ order: they are versatile enough to be used in various areas, and thus help in addressing the routine work of the Authority. “The Knight Enlighteners are scholars, teachers, and natural philosophers. They operate under the Rule of Zephemiah, as it was said by their order’s founder so long ago: ‘There is no truth but truth’. As such, the nature of existence and the world we live in is the ultimate pursuit of the Enlighteners, who supervise the acquisition and dissemination of knowledge. They maintain the Great Wiki and its derivatives, provide historical and scientific insight to the High Administration when it is needed, and conduct the surveys that help the Authority in determining the state of the Internet. They are famed for their neutrality in political issues: during times of controversy and rare civil strife within the Authority, the Enlighteners almost always avoid choosing sides. “The Knight Censors are tasked with ensuring the survival of public decency and morality, specifically in the field of artistic expression. In sites that function under Authority rule, all art—from paintings to pottery to opera and beyond—must be cleared with the local Censorate (though the standards such Knights are allowed to apply varies depending on the community). The Censors separate the works that are fit for public consumption and those that are not, and either restrict the latter or permit it only in sanctioned red-zones, where such salacious content can be found under strict supervision to prevent its contamination spreading. “The Cybramancers’ Guild is unique among the branches in that it has no true knights: the titles given by the Guild are derived from the tradition of the cybrahakar, whose influence over the order was guaranteed by the Peace of Reylen. The Guild existed as a concept since the Authority’s founding, but only became a major organization long after the others in response to the growing threat of cybramancy in civilized society. As such, the Guild is dedicated to the regulation, supervision, and registration of all cybramancers in the Internet, ensuring that the danger posed by their existence is kept under control. Contrary to its name, not all of the Guild’s members are, in fact, cybramancers: many of its high-ranking members are born without the curse, thus allowing them to more freely oversee those that do. “Finally, there are the Knight Prefects, sometimes referred to as the ‘white hats’. The Prefects were founded by the exalted Tristram Twice-Dead, and strive to achieve his level of purity in mind and spirit in their own lives. The Prefectorate is the smallest of all the orders, but is by far the most powerful: they answer solely to the High Administration, and are able to go to the furthest bounds of the law so long as the Admins sanction it. They are tasked with ensuring the cohesion of the other branches, weeding out corruption and disloyalty, and dealing with problems too delicate for other Moderators. This can include rebellious lords, traitor Mods, fleshtrappers raiding from the Deep Web, or rogue cybramancers.” — “Central, and Our Authority (Put Briefly),” by Eriaria Habe