Case One, Chapter Eight: Artworks
The mental image that Daring had created for the Apple Pie in Your Eye tavern was a small, shifty corner of one of Ponyville’s darker shadows. But the image her eyes received destroyed that projection.
The Apple Pie in Your Eye sat in the northeastern lower-class suburbs of Ponyville, about halfway between the northern farmlands and the barely tamed borders of the Everfree Forest. It was a two-story tall structure painted in vibrant cotton candy pinks, apple reds and leafy greens. A hanging sign over the door depicted the silhouettes of three cheering and laughing ponies—a unicorn, an earth pony and a pegasus—sitting around a table which held a steaming apple pie. Two brightly colored lanterns, one blue and one yellow, were set in the wall next to the wide doors.
“This is a tavern?” she asked as they walked up to the door.
“Yup,” Phillip said, shifting his shoulders to adjust for the weight of the black case that he was carrying on his back. He strode up to the door and opened it wide, nodding for Daring to enter first.
Daring stepped inside and received another lesson in assuming nothing. The first floor of the tavern was all one room, warmly lit by the multi-colored lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Round tables of various sizes were placed around the room, almost all of which had clusters of party balloons tied to them. Just under half of the tables were occupied, the ponies around them talking and laughing over warm meals and steins of cider. Every illuminated face displayed happiness and contentment, the expressions almost alien to Daring. The air smelled of cakes and pies, sugars and apples; the sound of warm, friendly conversation filled their ears as they entered.
“Who runs this place?” Daring asked, looking around. No place like this belonged in Ponyville.
“You’re about to meet her,” Phillip said with a rather odd smile.
“What do—”
“Hi!” a high-pitched voice shouted into Daring’s ear. She leaped into the air and whirled around to find herself facing a small, chubby, bright pink mare with cerulean eyes and hair the color and texture of cotton candy. Her cutie mark was a trio of balloons, colored blue and yellow. The mare had a very wide smile on her face.
“Welcome to the Apple Pie in Your Eye tavern!” the mare chirped, speaking very fast. “I know that doesn’t sound very fun, having apple pie in your eye, especially if it’s hot, because that would kind of hurt, but when I was trying to come up with the name, I needed something that rhymed with ‘pie,’ and ‘rye’ and ‘dye’ and ‘supply’ made no sense at all, so I went with ‘eye’ because I thought that sounded clever!” She smiled widely and giggled. “I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?”
“Uh…” Daring stammered, completely caught off-guard by this strange, bubbly mare. She looked over at Phillip. He was grinning at the encounter, and it was quite clear that he was silently laughing at her. She turned back to Pinkie. “Daring Do,” she said.
“Oh, hey!” Pinkie chirped. “I remember I saw your picture in the newspaper a few days ago! Nice to meet you!"
Daring's biting retort died in her throat at Pinkie's genuine happiness and welcoming smile. "...thanks," she said.
“So you’re working with Phil now?” Pinkie asked.
“Yeah,” Daring replied. “How do you know—?”
“Where’s your hat?” Pinkie suddenly asked.
“My...hat?” Daring asked, touching her head.
“Yeah, your hat!” Pinkie said. “If you’re gonna be a private eye, you need a cool hat! It’s part of the rules!”
“I...didn’t know that there were rules,” Daring said.
“Well, now you do!” Pinkie smiled. “I gotta go. But I hope you have fun while you’re here!”
And before Daring could reply, Pinkie Pie disappeared in a blur of pink. “I…” Daring looked down and suddenly realized that she was holding a plate with a slice of warm peach pie on it; her favorite dessert.
“...thanks?” she said, looking from the plate to Phillip, who had a knowing smile on his face.
“Yeah, she’s always like that,” Phillip said, confirming her unspoken question. “You get used to it. C’mon, let me introduce you to AJ.”
He led her towards a bar in the back of the room. The tall, polished maple bar was equipped with several rows of cushioned stools in front and several shelves stocked with a variety of liquors. A wood stove was placed in the center of the back wall, the flames crackling merrily from behind the iron door.
A tall orange mare wearing an apron and a Stetson, her long blonde mane and tail both tied back with red ribbons,was standing behind the bar. Her cutie mark was a trio of apples, and her limbs were as solidly built as oak trees. As Daring and Phillip approached, the mare looked up from the glass she was cleaning.
“G’day, AJ,” Phil said, sliding onto a stool and setting the case across his back on the floor next to him.
“Howdy, Phil,” the mare greeted them with a Southern-tinged accent. She turned to Daring and paused for a moment, recognition flickering in her eyes.
“Howdy,” the bartender said, nodding to her as her smile faltered a bit. “Name’s Applejack. Welcome to the Apple Pie in Your Eye.” She winced a bit. “The name—”
“Wasn’t your idea, I know,” Daring replied coolly as she set her plate with her dessert down on the bar.
“So you’ve met Pinkie,” Applejack chuckled.
“She really runs this place?” Daring asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Well, we both do,” Applejack answered. “The deed’s under her name, but we both run it. See, Pinkie wanted to make a place where ponies could come to just be happy for a while. ‘A never-ending party where everypony was invited’ were, as I recall, her exact words.”
Daring glanced around, her eyes scanning the several balloons that hung over the room. “Well, that explains the decor,” she muttered.
Applejack chuckled. “Yeah, Pinkie’s something, all right. So just over a year ago, we bought this old shack that got bombed out in the Crystal War, fixed it up, and turned it into a tavern. Matter of fact, the two of us and all of our friends help with this place.” She nodded over to another table.
Daring turned to see five mares sitting around a table. She recognized Pinkie Pie and, to her small surprise, Twilight Sparkle, both of whom waved at them. She and Phil nodded back. The three other mares included a pure white blue-eyed unicorn with an elaborately styled purple mane and tail and the cutie mark of three blue diamonds, a butter yellow blue-eyed pegasus with long, flowing pink hair and the cutie mark of three pink butterflies, and a blue red-eyed pegasus with rainbow-colored hair and the cutie mark of a cloud with a rainbow-colored lightning bolt.
Applejack turned to the wood oven and opened it up. Donning a pair of oven mitts, she slid the rack out and extracted a covered plate. She placed it down on the table in front of Phil. “There you go,” she said with a small smile.
“Cheers,” Phillip said, uncovering the plate to reveal a grilled apple salad drizzled with cheese and a side of hay fries. “And AJ?” he asked. Applejack paused. “A bottle of the rum, and two glasses.”
“Sure thing,” Applejack nodded with a grin. She walked along the back wall of bottles and selected a tall thin bottle filled with a dark red liquid. She carried it back over to Phil and Daring, then dropped two glasses onto the bar.
Daring examined the label on the bottle. It depicted the silhouette of a kangaroo and the words, “Kanga-Rum: made from Aushaylian sugarcane, straight from Sydneigh.” She gave Phillip a look.
“Not the cleverest name, I know,” Phillip said, filling both glasses half full. “But it’s a little piece of home. And this is the only place nearby that stocks it.” He took his glass and held it up. “Here’s to partners, then.”
Daring took the other glass and clinked it against his. “Cheers,” she said and took a deep gulp from the glass.
A fire instantly spread across her throat, choking off her air supply. She lurched forward, coughing and sputtering, the rum splashing all over the bar. An overpowering sweet aftertaste of molasses clung to her tongue as she tried to get her breathing back under control.
“You’re clearly not an Aushaylian sheila,” Phillip stated, clapping her heartily on the back as she coughed, his own shoulders heaving with suppressed laughter.
Applejack laughed heartily herself as she wiped the bar down. “Hoo, that was funny,” she hooted.
“Assholes,” Daring wheezed, fighting down a smile of her own.
Applejack turned to Phillip, who was digging into his meal. “You might want to eat that quickly, Phil,” she said. “Rara’s on the warpath.”
“Who’s Rara?” Daring asked.
“Phillip Finder!”
“Oh, piss,” Phillip muttered. Daring and Phil both looked up to see a petite, ivory earth pony mare stomping towards them, her blue eyes flashing fire as they focused on Phillip. She had indigo hair with blue highlights, the mane and tail elaborately curled. She was wearing a black dress with a transparent skirt so that Daring could see her cutie mark: five colored music notes around a five-pointed star.
The mare stomped up to Phillip and paused in front of him, glaring. “You missed rehearsal this week,” she said. “Again.”
“First, I had a case. Second, I know the set by heart already,” Phillip replied flatly.
“That’s not an excuse!” the mare said, then turned to Daring. “Oh, hello! Who’re you?” she asked, instantly brightening.
“Daring Do,” Phillip answered. “Meet Coloratura.”
“Please, call me Rara,” the mare said, shaking hooves with Daring. “I’m in charge of the entertainment here at the Apple Pie, like musicians...which includes making sure they come to rehearsal,” she added in a growl, glaring at Phil. He gave her a deadpan stare back.
“So this is what you meant by a show,” Daring said to Phil.
“I used to busk in the park in between work,” Phil stated in between bites of his food. “Tried out here when this place opened. Got hired. Helps pay the bills.”
“In any case, it’s almost time,” Rara said. She glared at Phil a moment more, then her expression softened into a smile. “Let’s give them a show, Phil.”
“Right,” Phil said, taking a final sip of his rum and standing, grabbing the case up off the floor.
“Shine like always, Rara,” Applejack said with a smile. She leaned forward and Rara obliged her with a kiss.
“Enjoy the show!” Rara said to Daring as she and Phillip walked towards a stage to the side of the tavern. The raised platform featured a trio of microphone stands, a drum set, and a grand piano with a bench. The two performers climbed up onto the stage. A few customers noticed their actions and began to applaud and cheer. Rara turned her back to the audience and began to buzz her lips, warming up her voice as Phillip opened up the case and began to unpack the contents: the battered but polished saxophone from home.
“What’ll you have?” Applejack asked Daring, pulling her attention back to her.
“What d’you recommend?” Daring asked.
Applejack smiled. “How does spaghetti and butternut squash with homemade sauce and a glass of chilled Sweet Apple Acres apple cider sound?”
“Sounds great,” Daring said, sampling a hay fry from Phillip’s plate. It was perfectly browned and crunched wonderfully in her mouth.
“All right,” Applejack nodded and turned away for a moment. When she turned back, she had a bottle of an orange-amber liquid, which she poured into a glass and slid over to Daring. “There you go,” she said.
“Thanks,” Daring said. She reached out to accept the glass but suddenly noticed that Applejack wasn’t looking at her eyes. She was looking at her right hoof, which was laying on the countertop. The crude red lines that formed the rough shape of a ring of keys, permanently burned into Daring’s skin, stared at Applejack.
Daring quickly dropped the hoof out of sight. “For shame, AJ,” she said in a false, silky tone, donning the paper-thin mask of a flirtatious smile. “Staring at me like that? What would Rara think? I’m almost old enough to be your mom, after all.”
AJ stared at her in confusion for a moment, then raised a hoof in a conciliatory fashion. “Look, partner, your past is your own business,” she said. “Just don’t start any trouble, and we’ll be alright. Okay?”
Daring glared at her for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine.” She grabbed the glass of cider and took a long draught from it. The sweet, velvety flavor flowed easily down her throat, leaving a bubbly taste of apples on her tongue, and went a long way towards calming her down.
“Your food’ll be ready soon,” Applejack said, walking away. Daring grunted in reply and closed her eyes, focusing on nothing but the sound of Phillip tuning his saxophone and the remnants of the taste of apples. The music washed comfortingly down on her, settling her twisting stomach.
Never let them see when they get to you.
Rara turned back to the audience and tilted a microphone down so she could speak into it, causing a small squeal of feedback and summoning everypony’s attention to her. “Good evening, ladies and gentleponies! I’m Rara, and I’m pleased to welcome one of our first performers back to the stage. Give a round of applause for Phillip Finder!”
There was a round of applause from the audience as Phillip nodded briefly.
“Tonight, we’ll be performing a special set that we composed ourselves for all of you to enjoy,” Rara continued. “We’ll be starting with a favorite of ours. We call it In A Sentimental Mood. Ready, Phil?”
Phillip nodded and took his place at one of the microphones. Rara walked over to the piano and set herself daintily upon it. A hush descended over the audience as the two musicians prepared themselves.
Rara began to play the piano, summoning a short chiming melody. Phillip raised the reed to his lips and blew into it. A smooth counterpoint flowed out of the saxophone’s bell and over the audience, like a river that carried them gently away into a sea of pleasant thoughts and dreams. The patrons’ conversations continued, but at a quieter tone, so as not to interfere with the music.
Daring closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, swaying in time to the music as the soft murmurs of the saxophone washing out any other thought. Let the world deal with itself for a while: she had the music, spaghetti, cider, and her favorite dessert.
A smile crossed her face. I could get used to this.
The mansion stood on a crested hill to the northwest of the city, just touching the exterior borders of Ponyville. From here, Charlie August Silvertongue could stand at the grand windows and look down upon the buildings below, like a lord staring down upon his serfs. Which was exactly what he was.
He swirled the glass of Amontillado wine that floated beside him in his magic and fastidiously adjusted the front of his silver dressing gown as he studied the lights from the houses below. Beneath him, four hundred thousand ponies rested, lived, worked, loved, fought, played and died.
Taking another delicate sip of the wine, he turned and started to walk away from the window. He was currently standing in a room that was entirely decorated in shades of blue: blue walls, blue tables, blue sitting cushions placed on the floor and against the wall. Expensive paintings in golden frames were hung on the walls, all of them colored in overarching themes of blue and bordered with blue curtains. Passing through a door at the end of the room, Silvertongue now entered a room that was similarly designed, but this one in shades of yellow, and decorated with artwork themed in shades of yellow and brown. He proceeded through a further series of rooms, each with a different color theme: green, orange, white, and purple. Finally, he reached the door at the end of the purple room. He paused for a moment, clearing his throat and adjusting his robe, then passed through the locked door.
This room was painted in black. There were no windows here: the only light came from a crystalline chandelier that hung from the ceiling. This room alone was devoid of many decorations, save for two items. Mounted on the wall opposite the door was a coat of arms, framed by blood red curtains. The coat of arms depicted a silver hoof crushing a venomous green snake even as the serpent’s fangs dug themselves into the pony’s heel. A banner around the bottom of the arms displayed a motto in bold letters: “Nemo me impune lacessit.” Beneath the coat of arms was a tall ebony grandfather clock, the pendulum swinging back and forth with a heavy ticking sound.
The center of the room was taken up by a long black wooden table, with several red sitting cushions around it. Just over a dozen ponies occupied this room, some sitting on the cushions, some standing or leaning against the wall, none of them looking at or speaking to each other. All of them looked up at Silvertongue’s entry.
“Ladies, gentleponies,” Silvertongue greeted them. He looked over at a griffon that was leaning against the wall. This tall black griffon was smoking a meerschaum pipe, the blue smoke filling the room. He wore a lime green headband around his forehead, and three cutlasses hung at his hip. “Roaring, I thought I asked Whitestone to attend herself,” Charlie said in a rather cold tone.
“Cap’n sends her regards,” Roaring grunted, his yellow eyes focused on Silvertongue like a hawk watching a field mouse. “And told me to tell you that she’s not a dog that can be summoned at your will.”
"I respect the captain far too much to suggest that," Silvertongue replied. "But there is something I want her to know." He leaned in close to the griffon and whispered into his ear. The other ponies strained to hear Charlie’s hissed words.
Roaring jerked back from Charlie, his expression melting from confusion to shock and outrage. After several moments of silence, he gritted his teeth and slowly nodded. “Right. I’ll tell her about that,” he muttered, glaring as Charlie trotted past him. "Skit," he muttered to himself.
Charlie walked up to the head of the table and sat down on the largest sitting cushion, beneath the coat of arms. Every one of the guests turned to face him.
“Friends,” Charlie stated in a heavy tone, sipping more of his Amontillado, “I’m afraid I have grave news. We are indeed at war.”
A quiet murmur rose up from amidst the others. “I heard it from Twisted Root,” Charlie continued. “The traitor did not sell the necklace that she stole from me for greed. She gave it away to support the upstarts that she fell in with.”
“This shouldn’t be news to us,” huffed a portly blue earth pony that sat to Charlie’s right. This broad blonde-maned pony was wearing a white suit and tie and was glaring at Charlie with his small green eyes. His cutie mark was of an overflowing sack of bits.
“I’ve always had to deal with ponies trying to steal from me,” this pony sniffed. “But now I’ve been having thieves attacking me from every corner! I’ve lost thousands of bits; more money stolen in a week than I’ve lost in months!”
A few of the other ponies snickered, but Charlie silenced them all with a glance. “Monopoly’s plight is no laughing matter,” he declared. “When he loses money, we all lose money.”
“Seems to me, you lot spend too much time olagonin’ ‘bout stuff and not much time doing anything ‘bout it,” snorted a young unicorn sitting at the end of the table, his voice thick with a Mareish accent. This green unicorn had thick red hair, which included a full beard, and twinkling brown eyes. He was wearing a dark red vest and flipping a golden coin to himself. His cutie mark showed a pair of gold coins, both with four-leaf clovers imprinted on them.
“Coin Toss is quite correct,” Charlie agreed. “The time we did something is now.” He turned to one of the other guests. This middle-aged dark brown pegasus had a ring of silver hair about the back of his head and a salt and pepper beard. He squinted at Charlie with his creased brown eyes through thick glasses. The pony’s cutie mark was a glass filled partly with an amber liquid, but this was not the most remarkable thing about him. It was his uniform: a dark blue suit with a bright golden badge upon his left breast and five golden stars spread across each shoulder.
“Chief Tumbler, I’m told that Twisted Root was taken into custody,” Charlie declared. “I assume the necessary arrangements have been made?”
“Sure,” Chilled Tumbler declared. “I’ve got some officers I can trust on it. It’ll soon turn out that when the officers in charge of booking him didn’t search him properly and didn’t notice that he was carrying a cyanide pill.” He shrugged. “Such a pity.”
“We do have to properly thank our primary mole in the department,” Charlie declared.
"What about the mare?" Roaring growled. "She could still be dangerous."
"She was never involved in my more...profitable activities," Silvertongue waved the idea aside. "She knows nothing that could hurt us. Once she is released from the hospital, I expect that she will be charged with theft, and most likely receive a fairly light sentence. Killing her would be of no use to us."
“There is something else, though,” Chilled Tumbler interrupted. “Finder. When he was a cop, he was annoying, but we could keep him in line. Now that he’s a PI, he’s potentially much more dangerous. And he’s got that new partner of his.”
“Daring Do,” Charlie nodded. “Yes, I know of them. In fact, I met them yesterday at my gallery, where no doubt they were acquiring information.” He smiled in what should have been a comforting manner, but the gesture did not reach his eyes. “I think you need not fear. I do not anticipate either of them being a major threat.”
“Do not underestimate them,” a Gerwhin-accented voice spoke. Everypony turned to face the speaker: a tan unicorn leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room. This pony had walnut hair, a thin mustache, and was wearing a simple but elegant black suit and tie. He was smoking a goldleaf cigarette, which was giving off a strong odor of Saddle Arabian tobacco. His cutie mark was a chess piece, a black king. But the thing that made this pony stand out amidst the other guests was his eyes. They were completely black and held no sign of any emotion, or even any sign of life. To look into this pony’s eyes was like looking into an abyss, except that it stared back.
“You doubt me, Zugzwang?” Charlie said, his voice calm but tinged with ice.
Zugzwang stared back at him, taking a long puff on his cigarette before answering. “Nein,” he replied. “But I am observing that Herr Finder and Fraulein Do are potential liabilities to us. Which also means that they can be advantages.”
“You already have plans for them, don’t you?” Charlie grinned.
Zugzwang nodded and inserted the cigarette back into his mouth before turning away, as though bored.
“Excellent,” Charlie declared, clapping his hooves together and turning back to face the others. “For now, we should confront the problem of these would-be usurpers.” He leaned forwards, glancing about at his guests and lowering his voice to a stage whisper, prompting them to lean in as well.
“Let them be reminded: Ponyville is our kingdom,” he declared. “We rule these streets. We own this city. And nopony is taking that away from us.”
His assembled court all nodded their agreement. Charlie August Silvertongue smiled and took a long sip of his Amontillado.
It was good to be the king.
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Okay, I have to ask, is that ending line and Silvertongue's entire demeanor based on a certain Luke Cage villain?
8282060
I don't watch Luke Cage, so no.
8282069
Oh, sorry. It's just that Coppermouth Stokes from the series often comments on how good it is to be the king.
"Meanwhile, at the Legion of Doom"
8282614
Heheh, well, it's not that far gone.
Is that a Poe reference I spy with the Amontillado?
8283217
It might very well be! The question is, is he Montresor or Fortunato?
If I were to guess, I'd peg him as Fortunado, for the sole fact that he's the one tasting the wine. That or he's Luchesi, and the game isn't his to play in the first place.
Musings aside, I love it!
8284508
Well, keep in mind, he is the one with the coat of arms. But I digress...
And I'm glad you like it! I hope you're looking forward to more!
No comment.
8396573
And yet, you commented.
Awesome name! And a plus, (minus?) he`s deutsch
Remember that whole thing on "Criminal Minds" about Zugzwang?
8650390
Yes, I do, but that's not where his name comes from. Well, not exactly...
Soo... huh. ... I think I'm dumb, I'm kinda confused
It's good, don't get me wrong, but maybe cause I'm stupid, but I'm not understanding 