Case Nineteen, Chapter One: History Unearthed
The sky over Ponyville was a calming blend of light gray and blue, with thin layers of clouds strolling leisurely across the sun-kissed late morning sky. A light wind stirred the thin, bare branches of the cherry tree sitting in the backyard of 221 Honeybee Bakery Street, the chilling bite promising the coming of winter.
Inside the house, Phillip carefully stirred a test tube, holding up the tube to study the light brown water within. “Right,” he nodded, cutting out a small sheet of filter paper and inserting it into the tube, allowing the bottom half to dip into the water. He placed the tube into a rack with a row of other tubes, each of them with another piece of filter paper within it.
“You’re sure that you know the chemical composition of those samples?” Twilight asked, magically scratching down some notes with her magic as she studied the flask full of purple liquid, bubbling away over the Bunsen burner on the desk.
“Positive,” Phillip replied. “Those are all samples from the backyard. Did some of my first geology experiments on that.”
“Good,” Twilight nodded, briefly looking away from her own experiment to eagerly study the water that was already sluggishly trickling up the filter paper. “Ooh, this is exciting! Chromatography is such an underdeveloped branch of science; if we can find a compound that allows for consistent results, we might be able to find a quick way to identify soil compositions without needing to rely on microscopic analysis! It might not be enough for definitive analysis, but it’ll at least help with eliminations!”
“Whoa, Twilight, take a breath,” Spike rolled his eyes from the couch, not looking up from the latest Supermare comic. “It’s just some dirt.”
“Just some dirt?!” Twilight cried. “Spike, entire criminal cases have hinged off of traces like this! If our research works, this could revolutionize forensic science, and be the catalyst for new examinations that ensure that innocent ponies are not arrested for crimes that they didn’t commit! And you call it just dirt?!”
“When will I learn?” Spike sighed to himself.
“Twi, easy,” Phillip said, placing a hoof on her shoulder.
Twilight took a breath. “Sorry, you’re right,” she admitted.
“What I’m more interested in is this,” Spike said with a grin, turning his attention to the wooden club sitting on the coffee table next to the chessboard. “A magic club! How cool is that? Well, maybe not quite as cool as a lightning whip, but still!”
“It is an incredible magical totem,” Twilight admitted, picking it up in her magic and slowly turning it over. “I’ve scanned it a dozen times and I still can’t figure out how Aherrk or Captain Bushwhacker managed to integrate cloud magic into them so flawlessly, if that was their work.”
“It was the wandjina, of course!” Spike countered.
“Spike, that’s just a legend,” Twilight chided. “There’s no evidence that wandjina exist.”
“There was no evidence that…namorodo exist, either, and Daring and I fought them,” Phillip cut in, swallowing and forcing down the squirming tightness in his chest. He’d almost said ‘Ngluwi.’
Twilight opened her mouth to speak, paused, then closed it. “Okay, fair enough,” she conceded. “But we shouldn't jump to conclusions." She turned the waddy over in her magic. "I still wonder how they were made. Whoever made it must have had a lot of magical power and knowledge.”
Phillip took the carved waddy for himself and slowly turned it over in his hooves, admiring the carvings and paintings upon the dark red-brown wood; patterns of colored stripes and clustered dots along the handle, and painted upon the round head, two white mouthless faces with glowing white eyes: bearded Angkakert and Awely-Awely with her long wispy mane, both crowned with lightning and clouds.
“All that matters to me is that it works,” he said, placing it back down reverently on the table.
“Oh, speaking of which, should we take another look at your vest’s wards?” Twilight asked.
“Your latest design works fine,” Phillip nodded, glancing over at his green fishing vest hanging up on the hallway wall next to his trilby. The interior of the vest was visible, revealing the intricate design woven into the fabric in purple lines that glowed faintly when caught in the light: the Sparkle-Armor Protective ward Mark 4, a mandala that looked like an eight-pointed star with three interlocking circles within and a sun-moon design on each point of the star, the entire thing enclosed within a diamond and interspersed with runes. “Turns on automatically now, definitely seem to be lasting longer and recharges faster. You and your brother did ripper work on the new wards, and I'm glad that Cold was able to get enough warded vests for the department.”
“That is great, but I’m hoping that I can still improve it,” Twilight replied.
“Saved our lives plenty of times,” Phillip said, placing his hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.
“And nearly killed you once,” Twilight mumbled, lowering her gaze in shame. “I can’t afford to allow that mistake again. That's why I made the mark 4 in the first place.”
“Uh, Twi…?” Spike cut in.
“That wasn’t your fault, sheila,” Phillip replied, tilting her chin up. “If it hadn’t been for you and your genius, Zugzwang would’ve killed us all. You saved all of our lives back there.”
Twilight swallowed and smiled, her lips quivering a little as her eyes shimmered. “Thank you,” she said, hugging Phillip hard enough that he stumbled slightly with a grunt of surprise.
“I see you’ve been doing those exercises,” Phillip chuckled, patting her on the back.
“Guys?” Spike repeated, his voice rising a bit.
“I’ve learned that magic doesn’t solve everything,” Twilight admitted with a soft laugh.
“Guys!” Spike shouted, pointing.
Both ponies looked up to see that the flask that Twilight had placed on the Bunsen burner was now bubbling and steaming over the edge of the top, liquid dripping down the sides onto the flame, which hissed angrily and flared, turning purple.
“Oh, no!” Twilight cried, her horn lighting up to create a purple wall between them and the flask.
Not a moment later, there was a great flash of light and a bang like a firecracker as orange smoke billowed out of the flask like a tidal wave, breaking over Twilight’s shield. Steaming liquid fell from the clouds like rain that smelled of citrus and ink, covering every surface.
For a moment, there was merely silence and stillness, then Phillip turned and frowned at Twilight. She grinned sheepishly as she dropped the shield. “Sorry,” she said, folding her ears back. “Guess I had that on a little too high.”
“Guess so,” Phillip declared dryly.
The doorbell rang. “Of course,” Phillip sighed, heading for the door. He paused briefly in the hallway to take his .38 from the holster hanging from the rack and strap it to his foreleg, giving Twilight a meaningful glance as he did so. Twilight nodded and hustled herself and Spike into the kitchen out of sight, creating another shield before them.
His heart pattering against his chest, Phillip trotted up to the door and peeked through the curtains covering the window. Waiting on the front porch was a clover green unicorn, the gray around his temples encroaching deeper into the brown mane much farther than the last time Phil had seen him. The pair of red dice on his flanks displayed a five and a two, and he wore a cheap but well-fitted brown suit. In his hoof was a briefcase, papers sticking out of the interior and the exterior pockets.
Clicking the safety on his weapon back on, Phillip unlocked and opened the door, the purple protective wards over the wall briefly flashing as he did so. “Vinny,” he greeted the stallion, extending his unarmed foreleg to shake.
“Hey, hey, good to see you,” Vinny Gamble smiled, shaking Phillip’s hoof eagerly as he stepped inside. The attorney glanced at Phillip’s pistol as he stepped inside. “Heh, expecting somepony else?” he asked somewhat nervously.
“Just being careful, mate,” Phillip replied, locking the door and replacing his weapon in the holster.
Vinny sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? You trying to make orange wine?”
“Just an accident with an experiment,” Phillip replied, leading his guest into the living room, frowning at the liquid coating most of the surfaces. Twilight and Spike were cleaning up the room.
“Hello, Mister Gamble,” she greeted him with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about the mess.”
Vinny did a double-take upon seeing Spike, who gave him a small smile and a slow wave. The unicorn blinked a couple of times, then shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay,” he admitted. “I’ve honestly seen dirtier houses.”
“Guessing you’re here because of that murder in Trottingham?” Phillip asked, the sofa creaking beneath him as he sat down.
Vinny stared at him for a beat, then chuckled once. “So what gave it away?” he asked. “Dust on my horseshoes that’s from Trottingham? This ketchup stain come only from a diner there?”
“Bus ticket,” Phillip said, nodding to the small corner of blue paper sticking out of the exterior pocket of the briefcase.
“You can’t see what’s printed on it,” Spike protested.
“No, but I know that it takes about half an hour to get to my place from the bus station with a taxi,” Phillip said. “So the bus came in around 9:15. Your watch alarm is set for five-thirty AM,” he continued, nodding to Vinny’s watch, the small red arm set between five and six. “You’re clean-shaven and combed, so you took some time to get ready, maybe half an hour. Estimate that the bus took two to three hours to get here. Way your dress shirt is rumpled means that you slept in it.
“Conclusion: you spent all day yesterday at wherever you were, fell asleep in your motel working, took the bus back here. Trottingham is the right distance away, and there was a murder a couple of days ago.”
Phillip reached over and plucked the morning edition of the Foal Free Press from its place on the sofa next to him. The dampened front page declared in bold text, “Shopowner’s Son Arrested for Murder!” He handed it over to Twilight to examine.
“Two days ago, the owner of a metalcraft shop, Gold Plate, was killed in his store after closing,” Twilight read, her eyes sweeping the text with almost dizzying speed. “Yesterday morning, his son Silver Plate was arrested for the crime based on eyewitness testimony: a neighbor declared that he’d heard Gold and Silver Plate arguing less than an hour before the body was discovered.”
“Mister Plate is protesting his innocence, and has hired me to defend him,” Vinny nodded. “I pride myself on being a judge of character, and I believe him when he says that he didn’t do it. Unfortunately, gut instincts aren’t admissible in court, and they got a motive for him, so I’m in a bit of a snit.”
“You really don’t think he did it?” Phillip asked.
“Every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is ‘I didn’t do it,’” Vinny said. “It’s my job to do everything I can to get the best outcome for my client. Which means that if there’s a chance that he didn’t do it, I have to try to prove it. And Silver has already said he’s willing to pick up your tab himself.”
Phillip glanced at the newspaper in silent consideration, his eyes focusing on the photograph accompanying the headline: Silver Plate, his sterling coat matted and his white, gold-trimmed mane hanging down over his face as he was escorted out of his home in hoofcuffs, a police officer at each of his sides.
“Everypony deserves a fair suck of the sav,” he nodded. “Give me what you have.”
“I’d rather do it with both of you here,” Vinny said, glancing around. “So where’s the other half of the dynamic duo?”
“She went to see the new exhibit at the history museum,” Phillip replied.
“That was today?!” Twilight cried, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull. “Ohmigosh, I was so looking forward to our experiment that I completely forgot! Spike, c’mon!”
Snatching the protesting drake and her experiment notes in her magic, Twilight bustled out the door. “Sorry again about the mess! Tell me how it turns out! See you later!” she called, slamming the door behind her.
Phillip shook his head with a sigh before turning back to a gaping Vinny. “Right. Where were we?”
A pair of serpentine dragons, their winding bodies adorned with feathers, stood post on either side of the archway. Daring paused to study the great wooden carvings that had been formed from redwood tree trunks before strolling inside, adjusting her fake glasses and floppy sunhat as she entered. Over her head, a great banner displayed an image of a step pyramid among a jungle clearing, with tropical birds and monkeys among the trees. Massive yellow letters declared “Treasures of the Mysterious South!”
As she entered the massive exhibit hallway, she paused to gasp in delight, her eyes widening as she tried to take in every detail. Glass cases displayed pottery, hoof-carved tools, and intricate wooden carvings. Pictorial etchings into fragments of stone brought history and mythology to life, narrated by cuneiform writing. Tribal masks and carvings of dragons, eagles, and other beasts were mounted on the walls, staring down at the visitors that were meandering from exhibit to exhibit.
“Be still, my heart,” Daring whispered, a grin spreading across her face. She started to wander through the hallways, pausing at every exhibit from a display of small arrowheads and faceless idols to a rack of spears and shields. She memorized every accompanying placard, absorbing as much information as she could about the cultures of ponies and zebras that lived in the dense foliage of southern Equestria.
As she proceeded down the hallway, the crowds of visitors became denser, the voices louder and more excited. Hitching up her maroon dress, Daring swam into the crowd, slowly pushing her way forward until she saw the object of their fascination.
Standing in the center of the room, set atop a pedestal of faux stone beneath a thick glass dome, was a pair of golden rings, stacked on top of one another. The bottom one was about five feet in diameter, the smaller four feet wide, and runic symbols were placed along the circumference of each one. A square of velvet ropes blocked off the display from the attendees, who surrounded the artifact, staring in fascination.
Daring peered at the placard posted next to the stand.
Two of the Rings of Scorchero
Scorchero (ca. 110--55 BE) was the last emperor of the Tenochtitlan Tribe. Little is known of his reign, as many of the records of his history have been lost or destroyed, but it is known that he was a talented sorcerer who crafted twelve golden rings. These rings were said to have the power to control the sun and could direct intense heat upon the tribe’s enemies. The Tenochtitlan Tribe’s empire collapsed soon after the rings were allegedly crafted--myths tell that the land was consumed in a terrible fire that lasted for months and left few survivors. Since then, the rings have been lost, allegedly scattered across the Mysterious South so that they can never be rejoined again.
“Do you believe that?” a voice tinged with a Mexicoltian accent asked to Daring’s left.
She turned to see a muddy brown stallion with a bushy gray beard standing next to her, his light green eyes shaded by the floppy gray cap he wore.
“Believe what?” Daring asked.
“That the rings could control the sun,” the stallion continued. “Imagine the power to control the day, to bring down unrelenting, sweltering heat upon your foes. A weapon to be feared, indeed.”
“If it did work,” Daring pointed out. “With ancient artifacts like that, it’s always a roll of the dice if it did work or if it was just a shiny bauble that somepony told stories about. For all we know, that stuff about the rings controlling the sun didn’t come around until after he died; a myth to explain the fire that destroyed the Tenochtitlan Tribe.”
“Perhaps the tale of Scorchero is meant to be a warning about attempting to control powers we do not understand,” the other stallion mused, then chuckled. “Oh, perdon. I did not introduce myself. I am Groom Martingale,” he said, extending a hoof.
“A.K. Yearling,” Daring introduced herself, shaking his hoof.
The light green eyes widened. “The author of the Compass Rose series?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Daring nodded. “Keep it down, please. I’m trying to stay incognito.”
“Yo comprendo,” Martingale nodded. “Are you here researching your next story?”
“Partially,” Daring admitted. “But mainly I’m just here to enjoy the exhibit.”
Martingale chuckled. “Well, we are both here for the same reason, then. I also like to spend my time learning of our history, but I’m also hoping to do some research for a project of my own.”
“You an author, too?” Daring asked.
“I used to be,” Martingale admitted. “But I have to admit, reading your stories has blown on that little spark a bit. I’m hoping that something here will give me that little bit of inspiration I need.”
“Well, good luck to you,” Daring nodded to him, turning away.
“And to you, señora,” Martingale nodded as Daring retreated. “Perhaps we will meet again.”
“Maybe in the bookstore for our signings,” Daring smiled over her shoulder as she continued down the hallway, pausing at every exhibit case to study the contents.
As she was studying a case full of square-shaped coins, she felt a presence quietly sidling up to her left. “Heya, DD,” a familiar voice whispered.
Daring glanced over to see a cream-colored kirin with an autumnal orange mane grinning at her, yellow eyes glimmering.
“How do you always see through my disguises?” Daring sighed.
“C’mon, D, all you did is put on some glasses, a dress, and a hat,” Autumn Blaze grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice dress. Really flattering and it’s a great color for you. It definitely would fool most ponies. But you know, I’m a reporter. It’s my job to take a closer look at things, sniff out the truth. Even if that’s just a friend who wants to be incognito for a day.”
Daring sighed and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t resist a small smile. “You here just to enjoy the exhibit, too?” she asked.
“Partially,” Autumn said. “But mainly, I’m here to see if I can speak to anyone about the patron of this exhibit.”
She nodded to the placard next to the exhibit:
This exhibit was made by a generous donation by the North Star Capital Industries.
“Alba Dorata,” Autumn said.
“Yeah, I heard a few things about him,” Daring nodded. “Bought out Monopoly’s businesses after he went to jail. Had that thing about the kidnappers a couple of months ago. Why, you smell something dirty about him?”
“Well, no,” Autumn admitted as they moved on to the next exhibit, a trio of ponyquins dressed in the clothes, feathers, and ritual body paint of the Tenochtitlan Tribe: a stallion with a spear bringing home a string of freshly-caught fish, a mare bending over a fire, and a young colt playing with a set of carved sticks. “Not yet, at least. But last summer, after he got nearly kidnapped by those ponies, when I was submitting my story about Buzz to the Foal Free Press--he says hi, by the way, he, or she, is back to his beekeeping business, makes really great cross buns--a few of the editors were talking about how they didn’t know much about Alba Dorata. Even back when he bought Monopoly Investments, not a single reporter could get a good interview out of him. It’s like he was avoiding any interviews at all, which is weird, because I haven’t met a single rich pony that didn’t love talking about themselves.”
“So you’re trying to beat them all to the punch?” Daring asked with a grin.
“Hey, I can have dreams and aspirations,” Autumn shrugged with a faux modest smile. “Besides, I’m having some writer’s block with the opera. Gotta write something!
“Plus...honestly, something doesn’t feel right about him,” Autumn continued, her face falling to more serious lines. “I mean, this complete stranger comes into Ponyville last spring and buys out Monopoly Investments and starts completely reworking it, dissolves Cerberus Security, and starts ingratiating himself with the police by giving them new guns and stuff? You know, call me paranoid, but something doesn’t feel right about it to me.”
“Yeah, that does sound a bit fishy,” Daring admitted.
“You think so, too?” Autumn said “Oh, good. I was starting to worry I was going a bit crazy. That’s what I get for talking to Silhouette Gloom of the Sundown Lands too long.”
“...who?” Daring asked.
“My shadow,” Autumn said, waving at her own shadow splayed across the wall. Noting Daring’s expression, Autumn protested, “Hey, I think better when I have someone to talk to and I can’t really talk to the girls at the Bawdy about these kinds of things, okay?”
Daring sighed and shook her head. “You’re one of a kind, Autumn,” she said.
“Thank you!” Autumn chirped.
“Did you say you were writing an ope--” Daring’s sentence came to a stop as something caught her attention: a fragment of a stone carving displayed in a small case, overlooked by most attendants, but the shape carved onto the stone was coldly familiar to her.
The massive, dog-like beast was surrounded by ponies, who were bowing down to it in terrified worship. It glared down at them with beady black eyes, the teeth on its long snout bared. On its long tail was what looked like a paw, in which it clutched an indistinct form. A moment later, Daring realized it was a dead pony.
The darkness shifted and a massive eye opened beneath her, the slit pupil three times as long as her body. She saw her own reflection, pale and trembling, her own tiny pupils wide with horror staring back at her from the venomous green iris, and the wind rumbled in a language that she didn’t understand, every syllable making her bones shiver like a jackhammer…
“D? Are you okay?” Autumn asked.
Daring blinked and shook her head, taking a breath and allowing the squirming fear to slowly retreat back into her gut as the memory dissipated. “I’m okay,” she nodded, glancing at the placard accompanying the artifact.
Little is known about the mythical beasts known as ahuizotl, but it is known that they were worshipped by ancient ponies in Southern Equestria with sacrifices and ritual mutilation. The ahuizotl were known to eat those who displeased them and were themselves apparently priests of greater gods. Curiously, many records related to them appear to have been deliberately destroyed years ago.
Mythical beasts, Daring thought with an involuntary shudder. All myths have an origin.
“Anyway, you were writing an opera?” Daring said, moving on.
“You wanna hear about it?” Autumn chirped. “It’s about this guy who lives below a stage and falls in love with this singer and wears a half-mask and gets all broody because the singer is in love with another dude, so he kidnaps her and takes her on this underground gondola--”
Something in Daring’s pocket grew warm. She extracted one of her wedding gifts from an interior pocket: a notebook with a compass rose and magnifying glass embossed onto the leather cover. She flipped it open to see Phillip’s hoofwriting appearing on the enchanted page.
Hate to interrupt, but we’ve got a case in Trottingham. There’s a bus in two hours, meet me there.
Daring sighed and put her notebook away. “Ooh, you got a case?” Autumn asked.
“Yeah, something in Trottingham,” Daring confirmed.
“Oh, it might be that murdered shopworker I read about!” Autumn said. “You gotta go now?”
“Well…” Daring said, looking around with a small smile. “I can probably kill another hour or so.”
“Yay!” Autumn cheered. “So, did your Aushaylian vacation give you any ideas for your next book?”
“One or two,” Daring replied.
“Tell me everything, and feel free to go into tangents!” Autumn said, whipping out a notepad and pencil.
Daring smiled as she and Autumn proceeded to the next exhibit, shaking her head as she started to tell Autumn about Compass Rose’s adventures in the Outback.
The Diplomat’s tires crunched against the gravel as it parked on the side of the dirt road, coming to a halt just behind the police cruiser. Red and Flash stepped out of the car, stretching their shoulders as they exited. Red crinkled his nose at the scent as he slowly spun in place, taking in the mounds of garbage that surrounded them like mountains of filth, the stench permeating the air.
“At least they’re not in the river this time,” he muttered to Flash as his partner started making his way towards the officer that was standing post in between two mounds, pointing them down the narrow pathway that lay in the valley of detritus.
“I'll take waterlogged corpse over this any day,” Flash muttered, taking a fresh lime out of his pocket. He squirted some onto his hoof and dabbed it onto his upper lip, then handed it to Red.
"Where'd you come up with that idea?" Red asked, taking the lime and squeezing some onto his hoof.
"Doctor Mortis suggested it," Flash replied. "Speaking of whom."
Doctor Vitae Mortis was bending over in front of a smaller pile of garbage that formed a wall at the end of the pathway, snapping away with the camera that was floating next to her head.
“I remember back when I regularly came down here for corpses," the mortician commented sadly as the detectives approached. "I thought those days were over for a while there. Guess I was wrong."
Both pegasi paused and stared down at four objects that had sent the landfill forepony scrambling to call the police an hour ago, half-buried in the layer of hastily removed trash. The tangerine-colored griffon staring up at the sky, baring his slit throat to it. The white pegasus mare with the oranges on her flanks, laying on her side as if asleep among the crops. The yellow unicorn mare, chain ligatures marked into her hind legs. And the massive blue-gray earth pony, his burnt mouth open wide as if still screaming, revealing the massive hole in the back of his head that the dirt was flowing through.
“So…” Red said, frowning at the burns on the earth pony’s right hoof. “One pony swallows a gun, three with their throats slit, all of them dumped in a landfill. Honestly, I can’t say that this is the weirdest one I’ve seen.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Flash muttered, staring at the dead eyes of the dead stallion, the gray skies reflecting in the empty blue orbitals that still seemed to carry a sliver of terror.
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Oh, I can hear Caballeron talking as I read this. And man, you actually gave ol' Ahuizotl a sense of dread. Can't wait to see how the more Daring Do side of things comes into play.
Scorchero and the Legend of the Twelve Rings. Also woot, Silhouette Gloom.
I feel like I've been waiting for a new chapter of this fic to come out for ages now. Turns out I just forgot to turn on notifications... whoops. On the bright side, more content for me to read now.
I'm loving the dive into the more Daring Do aspects of the story. And that reveal of Ahuizotl being the thing Daring saw in... book two, I think... was truly chilling, and unbelievably exciting.
"Hey Celestia, would you kindly burn this valley off the map for me?"
"What?! No!"
"I will give you these shiny gold rings if you do~ !"
"Ok!"
10954700
I know right? Kind of reminds me of that unsettlingly creepy scene in the film Signs where the da is looking over that alien invasion picture book written by the conspiracy nutter with his son and daughter, and remarks "That looks like our house" at the picture of the burning house and then the camera slowly pans across the picture and shows the indistinct forms of 3 bodies in the front yard...
Very menacing indeed...