Intriguing

by Purple Patch

Chapter 6

In the cacophony that pulsed across the Hanoverian, the resonant, overdramatic laughter of the famous Canterlot critic, Hoity Toity sounded out before he sipped daintily from a cocktail, waved his cigarette holder and addressed his associates.

“Magnifico, Lord Magistrate! Quite, quite magnifico”

“I rather thought so”

Satisfied with their victory, Nitpick, Cumbersome and Earwax had gotten sufficiently drunk and were indulging in a very traditional gloat among those they could trust. Hoity Toity had seemed quite interested to know how they’d brought down the Chairstallion without raising their voices and they’d only been too happy to inform him.

“You should have seen his face!” Cumbersome bellowed, shaking with laughter “He’s trapped in a corner, pinned like a rat! Appropriate really, ha!”

“We have the copies at the Canterlot Gazette Headquarters” Earwax chuckled “And if anypony tries to steal them or asks about them, they have orders to print the paper immediately”

“Ah, very clever” Hoity Toity declared “You’ve certainly been very thorough, my friends. If I were you, I’d make the most of it”

“Really?”

“Absolutely! Take him for all he’s worth!” Hoity Toity’s cigarette lighter danced around his face, partially hiding him in the smoke “He’s been making fools of us since his first term. You’ve only got three days to pay him back, make it last!”

“I think we shall!” Cumbersome guffawed.

The celebrity critic was approached by a slim Neighponese beauty with extensive make-up and a dark blue mane tied up in a bun with several elaborate hairpins. She took a hold of the end of his silver mane and nodded at the private chambers meaningfully.

Hoity Toity lowered his glasses glanced at his friends who were grinning just as meaningfully.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlecolts” Smiling, he got to his hooves and followed the mare through the curtains.

Then, turning a corner, they left through the fire exit and nipped into an alleyway outside the club.

The stallion blanched at the sight of a dirty puddle close by but resolved to steel his heart and call out.

“Are you there?”

A pair of bright magenta circles shone in the darkness.

“Yes, I...Photo Finish...have arrived”

The photographer emerged from the shadows, Soigné Folio and Stella Zeppole at her side. Despite her sinister entrance, she looked upon Hoity Toity with would could have passed for affection.

“Vat have you learned, my friend?”

Hoity caught his breath and spoke.

“Photo, darling, you were right. Nitpick and his cohorts blackmailed Fancy Pants. They have photos of the times he’s spent with Fleur and have told the Gazette that Fleur lied about the attack on her at the theatre on Fancy’s instructions. It’ll cost him dearly, he’ll almost definitely lose the election and the mare may suffer as a result” he fanned himself with a handkerchief and winced uncomfortably “You wouldn’t believe the things they said they would do to her. I felt quite ill laughing with them”

“You have done vell, Hoity” she said, cursing her foes “Bah! Cursed Paparazzi Schwein! To zink zat a mare who vorks with photography is threatened by photos! Meister Nitpick must pay dearly for zis!”

“So he’s sent Fleur away to protect her” Soigné surmised.

“He must save her life by breaking her heart!” Stella sniffed forlornly “Too, too sad!”

“Quiet! Ve are not beaten yet!” Photo held up a hoof “Is zere any vay ve can destroy or confiscate ze photos?”

“Unfortunately, none that I can see” Hoity twiddled one hoof upon the ground “They say they have the photos at the Gazette office and they’ll publish it the instant they feel threatened”

“Damn unt blast!” She stamped in indignation “My career is endangered and so is Meister Fancy and Fleur’s. Ve have to defeat zem! Has zis plan any veakness you can identify?”

“I regret to say their scheme does seem pretty watertight. It’s quite certain they had outside help”

“Blueblood?” Soigné asked

“No, this is...unlike him” Hoity answered.

“Agreed. Fleur told us Blueblood is above what Nitpick is capable of” Powder Rouge said calmly as she watched the alley behind a store sign “He is no gentlecolt to be sure but he is nowhere near this vile”

“Well...I was going to say he’s not particularly clever” Hoity added “Certainly not to this level. None of them are. Nitpick’s a fool, Cumbersome’s a toad and Countess Magnifying Glass is, quite frankly, insane. Whoever supplied them the photos clearly knows what they’re doing. And...” he glanced around nervously and gulped “It could be dangerous”

“Ve are prepared”

“I...rather meant...for me”

“Courage, Hoity, all zat ve need from you is to lead zem on, make zem overconfident”

Hoity Toity sighed and bowed “I’ll see what I can do”

“Halt” Photo Finish held up one hoof “You are quite right. Zis puts you in danger. Zey must not know. Ve do not know vat whomever is responsible is also capable of. You must look...convincing”

Before Hoity could ask what exactly that meant, Powder Rouge grabbed him, ruffled his mane, loosened his collar and planted six well-lipsticked kisses across his face and neck.

Hoity blinked behind his dark glasses and gave a flustered exhale.

“Well...that’s...golly”

“Bloody hay, Powder!” Soigné exclaimed.

“It is for Fleur’s sake” Powder Rouge said flatly.

“Hm...Maybe I’d appreciate Fleur being in danger more often” Hoity Toity chuckled giddily before withering under a threatening glare from the mare who had just kissed him.

“That wasn’t funny” Powder Rouge hissed “Get back inside. We continue as planned”

*

Fleur de Lis hadn’t left her flat since she received the letter.

That horrible letter.

How had Fancy sounded so cruel. It was so unlike him.

Too unlike him. She kept on saying that in her head. Over and over, clinging on to the hope that he had another reason for hurting her so.

But what reason would he have?

Was Nitpick behind this?

Had the letter even come from Fancy?

Her friends in Photo Finish’s modelling circle had assured her they would make it right.

And that only made her feel worse. They were in enough danger from their business competitors already.

With how this was playing out, Nitpick was likely behind that as well.

She sat on her bed, quietly weeping, struggling to work things out.

She was at a loss.

Should she call her parents?

She wasn’t sure she was able. She hadn’t wanted to tell them about her most recent scrape in the Lower Gardens. When she thought back to how they’d reacted after they knew about the business at the theatre, an incident of this nature didn’t bear thinking about.

Should she call her friends?

Lyra, Colgate, Pepperdance and all her other Ponyville friends, though always dependable, were far away. And there was no telling what would happen to them if they got caught up in this.

And what friends she could rely on in Canterlot had been given enough trouble already.

Fleur took a deep breath and got to her hooves.

She could bear it no longer. She simply had to see Fancy Pants. If he had meant the cruel words he’d spoken of, she’d have him say it to her face. It was hardly likely to hurt her more than the letter. And if he hadn’t meant it, if her friends were right, if there was the slightest chance that the bond they shared could be protected, that he could be protected, she’d take it.

They’d come too far to fall at this stage.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her in a long time.

She wasn’t giving him up without a fight.

She wasn’t paid close attention to on the streets. She was dressed in a plain beige coat with a hood up and walked briskly. Usually she enjoyed attention but, at this stage, blatancy was not the key.

She hadn’t been to Briefly Manor that often but she knew it was atop the hill overlooking the city. Once she’d found the path to the hill, it was simply a matter of making her way to the top.

With the fate of their relationship in doubt, Briefly Manor, perhaps for the first time, looked unwelcome.

Taking a glance over her shoulder, Fleur approached the door and knocked it.

There was silence for a moment.

Before she could knock it again, Tombola appeared in the doorway. His face was flat and serious, without its usual charm.

“Miss Fleur de Lis” he said, his voice as devoid of emotion as his expression “We were not expecting you”

“Tom...” Fleur’s voice, however, was fraught with worry. It was as if all the friends she’d made through being with Fancy Pants had suddenly turned on her “I...I need to talk to Fancy Pants”

“I am afraid, Master Fancy Pants is not at home”

“Can I wait for him?”

“I am sorry to say that I must ask you not to. He informed us that we are no longer to have any relations with you”

Behind him, Fleur noticed Ramekin, Plumette, Gruffleby and Fuss Pot looking over the butler’s shoulder, pity and guilt apparent on their expressions.

“Wh-where is he?” Fleur asked, growing more anxious by the moment.

“I...cannot say”

“You must know, Tom!” the mare began to wail.

“I...I do, Miss de Lis” The butler’s reserve was beginning to waver “But, I was given expressed instructions...”

“Please, Tom...please” Fleur de Lis sunk to her knees. Confusion and despair wracked her body with sobs “I just...I don’t understand...I don’t want to lose him...not...not like this...”

Tombola glanced awkwardly at the weeping Fleur, turned to his impatient subordinates and decided, just this once, to disobey his master’s orders.

“Miss de Lis” he bent down, placed a gentle hoof on her shoulder and whispered “He’s in the Royal Gardens” He looked at her with great sincerity, as worried as she was “Please talk him out of this madness”

“I will, I promise...thank you...thank you, Tom!” Fleur hugged the startled butler and sped off in the direction of the Royal Gardens.

Tombola, never one for great shows of affection, adjusted himself and turned to the rest of the household, who stood beaming at him with distinct admiration.

“Well done there, Tom, me’ boy!” Gruffleby gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder with one cloven hoof.

“Very nice of you to help a lady in distress, sir” Ramekin chuckled.

“I believe it was...necessary” Tombola cleared his throat bashfully and straightened himself “Now then, come along, back to our duties”

“Yes sir!”

*

She didn’t like the Royal Gardens as much as she had once done.

Fleur was relieved, at least, that it wasn’t the Lower Gardens. She didn’t she could stand to walk among those horrible trees, knowing that Nitpick could be hiding behind each one.

The Central Gardens were largely topiary hedge rows and pine trees. The garden itself led to the mighty Royal Labyrinth but that was barred to those without invitation.

She prayed he didn’t have an invitation.

It was growing dark in the late evening when she finally spied him.

He was slowly making his way to the edge of the garden, his back to him. His hooves were weak, his body swaying with each step, as if he were half-dead. His head was raised but without a hint of pride. Even the colours of his coat and mane seemed waning.

It was if he himself had received a letter similar to the one he wrote to Fleur.

He looked a far cry from the Fancy she’d known these last few years.

She was tempted to comfort him. It hurt her to see him in this state.

Then she remembered the letter. As the harsh, heartless words flowed around her mind once again, she was instead tempted to confront him.

Steeling her mind, she elected to bide her time and keep herself hidden in the hedges. She would know how this came about. First his words had lost all grace and goodness and now, it seemed, so had the rest of him.

Fleur had, unfortunately, never been too good at keeping herself hidden, even in the darkness. The only way to keep an eye on him without being spotted was by spying from over the other side of the hedge. Or, if possible, through it.

All she knew that, if she needed to burst out and show herself, it would be quite inconvenient. It took forever to get twigs out her mane.

Fortunately, she’d always been light on her hooves and while she was quite a noticeable sight, if she wasn’t heard, Fancy Pants wouldn’t turn round.

As she slunk along the hedges, Fancy Pants came to a stop. She froze, terrified that she may be seen or heard. Taking a great risk, she peeked through a gap in the foliage.

Fancy wasn’t looking at her. He was looking straight ahead of him. He looked frightful. His mane and moustache was dishevelled, his eyes were glassy and moist from tears. Her own eyes widened as she noticed the most atypical feature about him.

He wasn’t wearing his monocle!

All thoughts of him writing that letter out of a sense of cruelty he’d kept hidden were banished instantly. She realised now that this was serious. Something had happened to Fancy Pants. Something unspeakable!

His hooves were shaking slightly as he stood and looked around, the blank look on his face making his movements appear almost robotic.

He cleared his throat, which seemed more of a difficulty to him than usual, and called out.

“I know you’re there...Talk to me”

Fleur covered her mouth with one hoof as she gave a small gasp.

She prepared to make a sincere apology and offer a comforting hoof.

But then somepony else replied before she could.

Somepony with a very familiar voice.

“You’re rather early, Fancy, my friend”

Lord Nitpick and Sir Cumbersome emerged from around the corner of the hedge. They weren’t unaccompanied. The earth pony and unicorn guards were beside Nitpick while Cumbersome was joined by a pony she’d found out before to be his valet, Cringeworth, a scrawny, stuck-up sycophant with a wheat-yellow coat, a powder wig and prominent buck-teeth. She knew Cringeworth dearly enjoyed licking his master’s hooves while spitting it back upon others, Fancy Pants in particular.

She was surprised to see that Fancy Pants did nothing to show his distaste for the stallions so deserving of it.

In fact, his expression seemed almost cowed.

“I...” he murmured, his voice hoarse and haggard “I’ve done as you told me...I’ve...I’ve sent Fleur away” His voice cracked on the sentence, blinking away tears.

Fleur felt tears in her own eyes to see him this way but resolved to keep watching. What had possessed him to hurt her and himself in such a way? And how was Nitpick behind it?

“And I will...sign my resignation in two days time...You will become Chairstallion...and I will not interfere” He breathed in deeply “You win, Nitpick...Now please, get rid of those photos...and leave Fleur alone”

Fleur watched, grinding the soil beneath her hooves in rage, as Nitpick and his cohorts smirked menacingly at the stallion she loved.

“You want us to get rid of the photos, Fancy Pants?” the Lord Magistrate asked innocently before giving a derisive snort “Now why would we do that?”

Fancy Pants gaped in shock.

“Wha...I...I did as you asked!”

“Yes, Fancy, that was what we asked...but not what we wanted” he paced toward him “The truth of the matter is that you’ve simply been far too great an annoyance for anything less than what we were threatening you with and the time and opportunity for you to simply step down and leave with your dignity intact is long past. To be perfectly clear, Fancy Pants, we gave you three days notice for you to pack up and flee our gaze, not for any chance to negotiate. There is to be no negotiations. We will see you destroyed or never seen again, one may lead to the other but, in any case, the end result is the same. The Gazette will have its story and its pictures in three days time” He grinned “And it’s worth mentioning that the story’s been added to, thanks to the suggestion of a good friend at the Hanoverian. You mentioned you were concerned at how your friend would get off when the story came out and so we...rearranged it a little to accommodate her”

Fleur watched Sir Cumbersome approach with several small pieces of paper in one hoof. She assumed that these were the 'photos' they spoke of. He was admiring them as one would a priceless antique.

“It occurred to me, Fancy,” he began “that the uniform your little friend wears is meant for the students of Preparatory College...this, of course, raises questions about just how old this mare is...”

“No!” Fancy’s tone grew harsh and almost tired, like he was losing his temper with a difficult foal “Damn you, Cumbersome, this serves no purpose! She’s twenty-six!”

“She doesn’t look twenty-six” Cumbersome retorted “In fact, she looks significantly younger. Perhaps ten years younger, maybe younger still...at least that’s what they’ll all be allowed to assume”

“No, no, no, now...now you’re just being foalish!” Fancy snapped, stuttering, as if enraged by idiocy more than anything else “You can’t lie about her age! She doesn’t...look...younger! She doesn’t!”

“She does...if we say she does” Cumbersome hissed menacingly, puffing out his chest in triumph.

At this, Cringeworth made an attempt to emulate his master.

“Yes indeed! Our word is taken as gospel around the capital, don’t you know! And you’ve no idea how fervent the public are when determined to punish a-GAWK!” He paused as he was lifted off the ground with his master’s hoof gripping tightly around his neck.

“Cringeworth...” he snarled “What have I told you about interrupting?!”

“Yes...sir...sorry...sir” he managed to rasp before being dropped gracelessly upon the grass. Cumbersome proceeded to wipe his hoof upon his jacket in distaste before continuing.

“But my idiot valet is quite correct. Whatever argument you put up will be shouted down by the mob at your door” He leered “Don’t worry, your friend Fleur will be treated as an innocent victim. An unnaturally tall and thin adolescent, groomed into sexual service by a stallion above the law. She will avoid prison time or even much punishment, other than a considerable time in therapy”

Fleur stared at Fancy. There was something in Fancy’s eyes smothered under all the despair, rage and confusion that looked almost like relief. Was he seriously considering allowing this to happen to him just to protect her?

“Fleur...” he began, his voice wavering “Fleur...will never...back up your story”

Cumbersome gave a sadistic chortle.

“You’re quite wrong, Fancy Pants. At first, I’m quite certain, she’ll deny everything, lost in the lies you told her since you abducted her all those years ago. But, as I said, she’ll be given therapy...very special therapy...at a very special hospital”

If Fancy was wearing his monocle, it would have dropped from his brow as his eyes widened as far as they could, his face aghast.

“No...” he gasped “Not...not that...not...not Glanders Gate!”

“Oh not to worry, Fancy” Nitpick added, calm and composed as he’d never been before “Fleur de Lis won’t be harmed in the slightest. But then, she won’t be Fleur de Lis. Fleur de Lis will never have existed. Because by the end of it all, she’ll be a completely different mare”

They left in very much the same way Fancy Pants had seen them last, cackling in victory, leaving him paralyzed with dismay.

Slowly, walking in a manner similar to limping, the Chairstallion made his way home.

Behind the hedge, Fleur crouched, weeping into her hooves. Those who wanted them both destroyed were resorting to the murkiest of schemes, perverting their treasured memories together to turn the populace against them. And yet her beloved Fancy was still thinking about her, risking all he had left to save the mare he loved.

She shut her eyes tight and gritted her teeth, finding her hooves on the ground.

She so desperately wanted to jump in as he did, free her darling from his peril and brain the despicable monsters responsible.

But this was something more complex than simply a daring rescue. This was a tactical matter. It would require patience and no small amount of resources to see this through.

She swore she’d make this right. Nitpick would not have his way, not after everything they’d been through.

They’d come too far for anything other than the happy ending they knew they’d earned together.

*

Fleur had never returned to her flat.

A frantic desk-pony had informed her that her employer had wished to see her without delay.

From the look of the desk-pony, Photo Finish had not taken no for an answer.

The slim mare had headed to Photo Finish’s set as fast as her hooves could carry her, hoping that one day she’d grow a pair of wings and not have to worry about ruining the hooficure on the gravel.

She entered to see the eccentric photographer and her entourage questioning a dark-coated, silver-maned stallion in the quiet, unused set.

It didn’t take Fleur long to realise this was Hoity Toity standing in her company. What took significantly longer was guessing why he was here.

“Fleur, dear amica!” Stella greeted her ecstatically “We may have a solution for your problem, signora!”

“Wh-what?” the mare was led to the gathering and made to listen closely.

Photo Finish and Hoity Toity were talking at close lengths.

“Vat possessed you to give zem zat idea?” Photo Finish barked.

“Listen, I know it puts Fancy and Fleur in more danger but think about it. Now we can disprove it!” the celebrity critic explained “If they lie about her age, all we need to do is produce proof that she is, in fact twenty-six. Birth Certificates and passports can’t lie”

“Okay so we can prove that Fleur’s not underage but we can’t prove anything else” Roxy Stick butted in.

“We don’t have to” Hoity Toity said knowingly “The Princess’s rules are very clear. The Gazette and all other newspaper publishers may print whatever they find but not a word of it must be false or even assumed. It must all be proven true with references. If a single sentence is backed-up insufficiently or not at all, it is removed from the shelves, cross-examined and everypony who has gathered and supplied the information must publically come forward and offer irrefutable proof or immediately plead guilty to media manipulation”

“The Gazette will never risk that” Pretty Vision said.

“Exactly, so they won’t have it published!” the stallion was practically hopping on his hooves “And even if Nitpick does, those photos will prove he’s guilty of invasion of privacy and extortion which will have his name removed from the polls instantly”

“Ha! We got him by the nuts!” Pretty roared with glee.

“Wait....everypony wait!”

Upon hearing her voice, every pony in the room indeed waited and turned to Fleur de Lis, slightly guilty yet compassionate looks on their faces. The alabaster mare stood up, her face a picture of astonishment.

“You’ve been trying to protect us?” she asked “You knew about Fancy being blackmailed?”

“Did you honestly doubt us?” Photo Finish asked “I...Photo Finish...am not vun to zink ze vurst of ze best and vice versa. It only leads to trouble and I, Photo Finish, do not do vell viz trouble. Meister Fancy Pants being so cruel to vun he cares for is, to me, a contradiction in ze terms...he vould have, at ze very least, spoken zose heartless vords to you in person. How could he not unless he did not mean ze vords he put onto paper? I, Photo Finish, vas suspicious. So I, Photo Finish, and my friends, how you say, did some digging. Ve heard of vat ze Lord Magistrate and his grunt-vorkers vere aiming to do to ze two of you and ve vould not allow it”
“Miss Finish and I are good friends, Miss Fleur” Hoity added, politely bowing “I, shall we say, located myself among Nitpick’s trusted and gave Photo and her girls any useful information while pouring a little poison in his ear for good measure. We know all he intends to do and how to stop it”

“You...” Fleur’s hoof flew up to cover her open mouth as tears appeared in her eyes “You’d do that...for us?”

“Vat?! You did not really zink zat I, Photo Finish, ran a successful business viz many loyal employees just by being zreatening, did you?” The photographer gave a dry chuckle, ignoring the nervous laughter from her models, and placed a hoof on Fleur’s shoulder “Vatever I, Photo Finish, may say or zink about you, Fleur de Lis, you vere villing to vork under my proverbial ving, get along viz my fellows and make my art zat much more...magick! I, Photo Finish, aim to repay zat kindness. As do ve all”

Fleur hugged her employer for what must have been a considerable time. Photo Finish was noticeably uncomfortable.

“Ah...yes...zank you...you are very kind...please let go now...”

“One problem though” Soigné Folio butted in “We have only three days, which isn’t long just to point out, to inform all of Canterlot that Fleur is, in fact, not underage. If we draw too much attention, it’ll look suspicious. Nitpick will publish his lies and the ponies of Canterlot will believe him. Even if he has to admit to blackmail, Fancy and Fleur won’t escape unharmed”

“So we’ve got to wait for an opportune moment to let everypony know” High Style surmised.

“We cannot afford to wait! We have only three days as she said!” Stella exclaimed.

In the commotion, Fleur wracked her brains. There had to be something they could do. How hard was it to tell ponies about herself? She did it all the time. She was expected to do so during the...

She stopped, her lilac eyes wide as porcelain plates, as it dawned on her.

The opportune moment.

“Everypony listen!” she cried out, silencing those present. She took a deep breath and addressed Photo Finish.

“The modelling shoot” she said firmly “It must take place...at Briefly Manor...tomorrow”

“WHAT?!” Pretty Vision gave her a look that suggested severe doubt in Fleur’s sanity, Soigné Folio facehoofed, Stella made a swooning motion and High Style’s jaw hit the ground.

“Lizzie, are you completely freaking crazy?!” Pretty screamed.

“It takes us days to prepare the shoot if we are lucky, Miss Fleur” Powder Rouge stated more tactfully “I fear you do not realise that”

“Leave it out. The dopey bird’s lost to us” Soigné groaned “Hold her under some cold water, quick”

“SILENCE!” Photo Finish’s bellow had its desired effect. Drawing herself up, she made her declaration.

“It vill be done! And no argument! Ve vill work through ze night if ve have to! Need ve remind you zat it vas Meister Fancy Pants who offered to use his own house and home to use as our set, for no charge at all?! Zis is a matter of principle! A vun-time event, I assure you, but a necessary vun! Fancy and Fleur vill be tormented no longer! I...Photo Finish...vill not allow it! And neither shall any of you!”

There was a pause.

“I’m in” Roxy Stick declared.

“Same here” Pretty Vision added.

“I as well” Powder Rouge stated.

Before long, the entire entourage were in agreement. Hoity Toity gave Fleur an encouraging nod as Photo Finish raised one hoof in the air and bellowed once again.

“Rouse our crew and gather all necessary equipment and costumes, now! And I, Photo Finish, mean now!”

“Good luck everypony” Hoity Toity waved a handkerchief in a manner better suited for ladies waving their loves goodbye “I’ll make sure Nitpick and his thugs are kept away. Keep fighting the good fight!”

“Zank you, now GO!” Photo Finish yelled as she prepared for a rather hectic day ahead of her.

Hopefully, if all went according to plan, it would be worth it.

*

Tombola braced himself considerably before entering his master’s office.

“Sir?”

Fancy Pants was sat at his desk, his head lying upon his hooves. Tom glanced at the small glass cabinet where he kept his monocle when not in use. It was there. Fancy had taken it off which always meant something was very wrong.

A bottle of wine, nearly empty, was next to him. The drained glass was resting on its side, sliding back and forth between his fore-knee and the bottle.

As he drew closer, Tom saw that his master was shaking.

The butler edged forward, facing him opposite the desk, cleared his throat and tried again.

“Sir?”

Fancy’s head jerked up. It wasn’t a comforting sight. Tombola took note of the bags forming under Fancy’s eyes, the unkempt mane and the definite droop of his moustache. His master wasn’t well.

He hadn’t seen him this desolated since the death of his parents fourteen years ago. He felt both pride and concern in the fact that this mood was so unusual to his master.

“Sir...If I may say...” he began at length “The household worry for you...You have not left your office since your return...You have not smiled since this morning...We presume, sir...that something unpleasant happened to you”

Fancy Pants said nothing but simply nodded dully.

“Would you care to divulge, sir?”

Fancy blinked away tears and looked down.

“I’m sorry, Tom...” he murmured.

“It’s quite alright, sir” Tombola bowed “Whatever you may decide. We simply worry”

“I see...”

Fancy Pants had never felt so wretched. Since the morning’s horror, he had immediately sought some way to thwart the plan but found none. Lost in worry, he sent that letter.

The memory of it still made him feel sick. He dreaded to imagine how his poor Fleur would react.

But anything would do. The love of his life could think about him however she chose as long as she was safe.

Nothing else mattered to him.

Overcome with shame soon afterward, he tried again to think of a decent way to escape from the peril he found himself in. Try as he might, everything seemed hopeless. The plan was concrete. If he made a move he would crumble and if he stood still the effect would be the same. He was trapped, lost and unable to find aid.

He had just stood there.

The laughter of his foes rang in his ears. He’d just stood there and let them threaten everything he loved. He should have fought them as he had in the Lower Gardens.

‘You should have stood up to them, Fancy’ He could almost his father’s voice with his own inside his head ‘Like a stallion!’

Jolting in his chair, he found himself staring into Tombola’s concerned eyes.

“Sir, do you need a doctor?” he asked.

Fancy closed his eyes and groaned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, old chap” he said gloomily “I’m not myself” He put the wine-glass back upright and poured himself another drink slightly unsteadily “Did you want to tell me anything, Tom?”

“Yes sir” he said, as composed as he could manage “Miss Photo Finish wrote to inform us that she’s had to move her modelling shoot at the manor to tomorrow. She understands this may hinder any plans we have somewhat but asks sincerely if we may help prepare”

“Oh...of course” Fancy answered.

It was the least he owed Photo for depriving her of Fleur. He still couldn’t believe what he’d written.

But perhaps, in Ponyville, she’d be safe.

That was all he needed.

“Tell her I’ll help in any way I can. I trust you can convince the rest of the household to do likewise”

“Of course sir” Tombola said, his hope improved.

At least his master hadn’t abandoned his famous generosity.

Bowing, he exited the study and found Fuss Pot, Gruffleby and Plumette conversing in the corridor.

“I, for one, am rather looking forward to the shoot” the old caretaker chuckled.

“Of course you are, you dirty old goat!” Fuss Pot clucked “I expect no nonsense from either party or there’ll be trouble, d’you hear?”

“Ce n’est pas juste!” Plumette whined, stamping her hoof “Wiz so many young mares about, how will I get Monsieur Ramekin’s attention? What if zey try to steal him away?”

“He’d make ‘em regret it, love” Gruffleby said sarcastically, dodging Fuss Pot’s hoof swiping round the back of his horns.

“That’s enough” Tombola’s voice cut the chatter. Though not loud or sudden, it was possessed of a commanding tone few could match.

“Apologies, Mister Tombola” Fuss said sincerely “Some of us were just concerned. Has poor Mister Fancy spoken yet?”

“He has. He promises me that he will be helping Miss Photo Finish with the shoot tomorrow”

“That’s some good news at least” Gruffleby sighed.

“Is zere nothing we can do?” Plumette asked frantically “Monsieur Fancy Pants is so mélancolique! It breaks ze heart to see him zis way!”

“Ours is not to question, Miss Plumette. His affairs are his own. We may offer comfort only if he wills it” Tombola said gravely “However, willing it may require some time and effort on both our parts. I have never seen him this way in a great amount of time, during an incident I am hesitant to recall. At least one of us must be beside him at all times. I do not like to suggest such a thing but...I fear he may do something drastic”

Plumette cupped her mouth.

“Oh my poor little lambkin” Fuss was close to tears “I never hoped to see him hurt like this again”

“Not to worry, lad” Gruffleby patted Tom on the foreleg “We’re on hoof, always. I’d sooner have been crippled and maimed in the Griffin Wars than let down old Fancy”

“Same ‘ere. I’m not letting the colt I helped raise since birth tear himself apart like this. I’ll be with him day and night if I have to”

“Mais oui! I shall be beside him. All of us shall be beside him, however long this terrible gloom lingers over ze manor”

Tombola smiled.

“He’ll be very pleased to hear that”

*

“Geez, and here I thought I was the one who enjoyed breaking the rules”

Carcassonne felt equal amounts of excitement and fear as she and Cadence leafed through the confidential reports in the restricted Judicial Archives opposite the Royal Council Chambers.

“What?” Cadence asked innocently “As a royal, I can come in here whenever I want. Granted I need to notify them and have a council escort but I’ll sign myself in later and you...kinda’ count as government...till the elections are over”

“Thanks for rubbing that in” Carcassonne snapped “You owe me another milkshake”

Cadence couldn’t help but chuckle but soon returned to business.

“So Fancy Pants’ parents were found dead outside the Canterlot City Hall?”

“Yeah, the report says the bodies were likely moved post-mortem but it doesn’t make any guesses where from” Carcassonne said grimly.

“I remember hearing about it in school” the pink alicorn murmured “Celestia was distraught, didn’t talk for days. Half of Canterlot was in tears”

“They were much admired” Carcassonne said shrugging “He was a dedicated doctor, she was a celebrated philanthropist and politician...they didn’t deserve to die like that” Her voice darkened “Somepony should have been with them. Somepony should have helped them”

“Did anypony suspect this was a political act?”

The scarlet unicorn snorted derisively.

“Anypony with a lick of sense! Nopony had the guts to say anything though. What enemies the two had were not ponies you wanted to mess with”

Cadence hesitated to ask the question.

“Like the Glass family?”

“Tell me about it” Carcassonne chuckled “Nitpick and his wife were always clashing with them. They’d been great friends with Stained, Countess Magnifying’s father, but after he was committed they constantly came to verbal blows with the Countess”

“When was Count Stained committed?”

“Not too long before they were killed. I know what you’re thinking, most ponies know that the Countess had her own father declared insane to get his inheritance but the courts allowed it. And both she and Nitpick had watertight alibis on the night of Pantaloon and Petticoat’s murder”

“They could have hired a hitpony” Cadence suggested.

Carcassonne shook her head.

“Their financial details were searched thoroughly. Nothing was found”

“You don’t think she did it?”

“What the hay gave you that impression?” Carcassonne was close to laughing.

“Would the Countess really do that?” Cadence asked with concern.

Carcassonne sighed and spoke in a sing-song fashion.

“You’ve never met Countess Magnifying Glass have you, my dear, sweet naive Cadey”

"Admittedly no, but once we find anything...if we find anything..." she grinned "I'm going to enjoy introducing myself"

The Judicial Archives had but one window, a small specimen with no way to use as a means to enter and even fewer ways to look in.

Yet someone had found a way.

‘Should have taken my advice, my lady’ the unseen figure mused watching from the building opposite, a considerable distance away.

‘They’ll just cause trouble if you let them all live’

Author's Note:

Hi everyone.
Sorry about the delay.
I've been a little caught-up socially. I'll have plenty of free time over the weekend if anyone wants to get in touch.
Sorry if it's a little dark. It probably goes without saying that these guys will stoop to anything.
Cringeworth isn't going to be that important (Think the love-child of LeFou from Beauty and the Beast and Wiggins from Pocahontas) but in almost every scene he's going to get hurt.
Don't feel sorry for him. He's not a nice pony.
Spot the Batman Arkham Asylum reference if you're familiar with that awesome, AWESOME game.
Please comment if you can. All constructive criticism is appreciated.

Comments

[Spiritus Arcane]

You know, it just hit me, but there's a rather major plot hole in this series: how the does a judicial system that was put together under Celestia or someone like her, allow a magistrate to sit bench on cases THAT INVOLVE HIS OWN FAMILY? That's a blatant conflict of interest, and I can't believe Celestia would actually allow something like that, yet that seems to be one of the major reasons why Nitpick and Magnifying are getting away with so much. Heck, just last story it was implied that if Derpy's custody battle had gone to trial, NITPICK would have been the judge, and this chapter is almost a hop away from outright saying he was the judge involved with allowing Stained to be committed.

I know Celestia is playing hooves off in politics to avoid playing favorites, but if she's actually allowing shit like this it starts to become criminal negligence.

[Bronycommander]

Good plan Photo Finish, good plan!