Ponyville Noire: Kriegspiel—Black, White, and Scarlet

by PonyJosiah13

Case Ten, Prologue: In the Vault

The night was quiet, the water of the Maresippi lapping at the northern shore. The black and white two-story house stood a few yards back from the beach; its shadow, cast by the light of the full moon, stretched out to almost touch the water. The trees that surrounded it on three sides whispered in the wind, fresh green leaves dancing beneath the stars. All the lights were out; there was no sign of anypony within.

A single griffon circled the house, glaring down at the structure. His lime green headband flapping in the breeze, the figure alighted on a balcony and squinted through the glass door. His yellow eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, scanned the interior, then he pressed his ear against the glass.

Not a sound. He frowned slightly; he was kind of hoping that he’d be there. He’d been longing to feel the bastard’s flesh against his blade, to watch the life fade from those black eyes. But no such pleasures tonight.

Roaring drew one of his cutlasses, the black suns carved into the blade briefly catching a glimmer of moonlight, then stabbed it into the window. Instantly, the entire window glowed with golden energy, arcane symbols swirling in the yellow mist that resisted his blade like a brick wall halting a wooden pole. Growling, Roaring pressed harder. The black suns on the sword shone with a smokey aura and dark red liquid leaked from the cursed metal, hissing as it dripped onto the wards. The yellow glow faded slightly, and he forced his blade through, carving it around inch by inch against the weakening resistance.

Finally, he had managed to cut a wide circle through the window. Panting, Roaring sheathed the sword, making a mental note to recharge it with some fresh blood later, and slid through.

Plucking a flashlight from his belt, Roaring switched it on and looked around the room. Everywhere he looked, there were tables with gameboards set upon them; chess, ludo, go, mancala, and many more, all of the boards and pieces made from fine marble and stone, jewels, and other expensive materials, and all of them in the midst of a game.

He picked up a black king chess piece made of beautifully carved alabaster that shone beneath his flashlight beam. Maybe some of these would be worth something.

But not now. He was here for one thing specifically; he could grab the rest later.

Luck had led them to this home: one of their scouting boats returning to the Talon had spotted him, standing on the balcony with one of those putrid cigarettes in his hoof. If this was where that Gerwhin bastard hung his hat, then this was probably where he was hiding his treasures. Including tonight's goal.

Flashlight leading the way, Roaring proceeded down the stairs and found himself facing a heavy door, padlocked shut with a combination lock. Sneering, Roaring sliced the padlock in half with one clean stroke and pushed the door open with a creak.

On the other side of the door was a room lined with brick, just big enough for the griffon to stand inside and walk around. Shelves lined two of the walls and scattered across them were various dusty spellbooks, potion materials and vials of bubbling liquids, guns and ammunition, and strange artifacts from small jewels set into strange winding gold backings to skulls with ritualistic lines carved into the bone and daggers lined with symbols in an unrecognizable language.

Tacked onto the wall in front of them were photographs and newspaper clippings, all of them so overlapping each other that the stone behind them could not be seen. Almost all of them were of Phillip Finder: shots of him walking down the street, speaking to officers, enjoying drinks at the Apple Pie, even some photos of him in his house, taken through the window. Scrawled over most of the pictures were phrases like “Liebling” and “Meine.” There were some other pictures of Daring Do (adjectives like “Hure” and “Schlampe” were scrawled over them), Flash Sentry, Twilight Sparkle, and some of Phil’s other companions. All of the ones that weren’t Phillip were slightly separated from his photos and set beneath a single world in bold letters: “TÖTEN.”

Acid bubbled in Roaring’s stomach at the sight of his enemy, and his claw twitched towards the swords, an instinct to slice through the photographs and tear them to pieces racing down his arm, but he stilled the urge. Stay focused on the objective.

Roaring scanned the room. He’d heard the rumors about it, back when Silvertongue and Monopoly still ran the city, but he hadn’t been sure that those scrolls were real. Not until Night Waltz had contacted them and told them about Zugzwang’s interest in the professor.

Then he spotted them. Two scrolls, the parchment dry and cracking faintly, the endcaps decorated with black skulls. The Lazarus Ritual. With a grin, Roaring snatched up the scrolls and tucked them into his belt.

And then he saw the smaller photographs, collected in a small booklet. A familiar face. Her face.

Roaring felt his heart stop in his chest and he seized the booklet, flipping through the pictures. All of them were of her. At her home, with her parents. With her coltfriend. Moving into her new home. At her job. Every aspect of her life, plainly documented for him to see, each picture freezing his blood even more.

Taped to the second to last page was a feather, pale gray. It was her color, Roaring knew; his rapid breathing rustled the vane.

On the final page was a note, the capital letters written in the sharp, precise lettering of a learned pony: “DON’T FUCK WITH ME, OR I’LL FUCK YOURS.”

Roaring heard himself scream, rage and terror blending into the noise, and bolted from the room. He flew out of the basement, back up the stairs, and soared back out the window into the night sky, his curses still resounding up to the stars so loud that he was sure that Fantisera was roused from her tours of the Dreamlands to see what the fuss was about.

He flew back to the cloud where Whitestone waited, her eyes wide with shock. “The fuck’s all the yelling about, Roaring?” she snarled, slapping him across the face. “You’re gonna wake up the whole fucking city.”

Roaring handed her the book in response. She stared at it in silent query, then opened it up. With every turn of the page, her eyes widened.

“How does he know about her?!” she hissed.

“Silvertongue,” Roaring growled. “He was his lackey for years, of course he’d have figured it out.”

Whitestone spat and pulled out a matchbook. Striking one of the long matches, she set the flame to the book, her talons clutching the paper until it was all aflame and slowly falling to ashes.

"Why?" she snarled quietly, closing her eyes as the ashes fell through the clouds that she gripped in her talons as though trying to choke the life from the vapor. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Cap'n..." Roaring started to say, reaching a hoof towards her.

“We need to double the guard on her,” Whitestone declared, raising her head, eyes blazing with determination.

Roaring frowned. “You think the crew will go for it? We’re already stretched thin…”

“She might not be crew, but she’s one of us,” Whitestone replied. “We take care of our own. And he’s definitely going to hit back after this.”

Roaring glanced down at the scrolls tucked into his belt. “You think this is worth it?” he asked quietly. “Worth her?”

Whitestone was silent for several seconds, watching the ashes of the former photos fall to the ground far below. “Making sure that that bastard is in the ground as soon as possible is worth her,” she finally declared, meeting her first mate’s gaze with a hard glare. “And this is one more nail in his coffin. The gods willing, I’d prefer that I be the one raising an undead army.”

Roaring glanced at the scrolls again, then nodded. “Right. Let’s get back to the Talon; we’ve still got that professor to worry about.”

Spreading their wings, both griffons flew eastward, dropping down low over the river water.

As they headed home, neither griffon noticed a pair of eyes, as black as the night sky, watching them. Slowly, a smile spread beneath the empty eyes.

“Oh, this could be fun,” Zugzwang whispered.

Author's Note:

Maybe not for us, though.

Oh, also: progress on the next chapter has been slower than I anticipated. I might have to delay the next chapter.

Looking forward to our newest case? Leave a like and a case to show your support!

Comments

[The Bricklayer]

On the other side of the door was a room lined with brick, just big enough for the griffon to stand inside and walk around. Shelves lined two of the walls and scattered across them were various dusty spellbooks, potion materials and vials of bubbling liquids, guns and ammunition, and strange artifacts from small jewels set into strange winding gold backings to skulls with ritualistic lines carved into the bone and daggers lined with symbols in an unrecognizable language.

Tacked onto the wall in front of them were photographs and newspaper clippings, all of them so overlapping each other that the stone behind them could not be seen. Almost all of them were of Phillip Finder: shots of him walking down the street, speaking to officers, enjoying drinks at the Apple Pie, even some photos of him in his house, taken through the window. Scrawled over most of the pictures were phrases like “Liebling” and “Meine.” There were some other pictures of Daring Do (adjectives like “Hure” and “Schlampe” were scrawled over them), Flash Sentry, Twilight Sparkle, and some of Phil’s other companions. All of the ones that weren’t Phillip were slightly separated from his photos and set beneath a single world in bold letters: “TÖTEN.”

Okay... Yep, definitely in crazy town now.

Maybe not for us, though.

No kidding... Yep, I think I need to hug something now...

[Braininthejar]

So, Zungwang was so sure his home would be burglarised, he left a direct threat inside instead of investing in some home defence wards like his allies had.

If that's the case, I'd check those scrolls very carefully. A necromancy artifact that the enemy expects you to steal can do much worse than just kill you.

[PonyJosiah13]

9642878
It's not that he was planning on it being burglarized; he was going to use that later. He honestly wasn't expecting this, but this was an amusing turn of events for him.

[TerribleSpeller]

Tacked onto the wall in front of them were photographs and newspaper clippings, all of them so overlapping each other that the stone behind them could not be seen. Almost all of them were of Phillip Finder: shots of him walking down the street, speaking to officers, enjoying drinks at the Apple Pie, even some photos of him in his house, taken through the window. Scrawled over most of the pictures were phrases like “Liebling” and “Meine.” There were some other pictures of Daring Do (adjectives like “Hure” and “Schlampe” were scrawled over them), Flash Sentry, Twilight Sparkle, and some of Phil’s other companions. All of the ones that weren’t Phillip were slightly separated from his photos and set beneath a single world in bold letters: “TÖTEN.”

Me, plotting ways to 1-up people i depise.

But in all seriousness, this is something i was gonna expecting from Zugzwang. I love it.

[Braininthejar]

9642906
So, the lack of defense spells in his house is entirely due to hubris? What if Roaring had left him a bomb?

[PonyJosiah13]

9644382

...I might not have thought this completely through...

Would you believe that the Swords of Asocrac can cut through wards...?

[Braininthejar]

9644520
quite plausible.
I shoul've put that comment in your discord chat, but I'm writing from a different computer today...

[PonyJosiah13]

9644541
Okay, rewrote the chapter to address that.

I'm so glad I've got someone like you reading these.

[Love able chaos]

Well this should be interesting.

[Leventego]

Chapter title: In the Vault

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVkKLf4DCn8
This Taylor Swift song is "from the Vault"

Conclusion: Taylor Swift is actually a pegasister and was referencing this story 😱