• Published 7th Oct 2012
  • 2,460 Views, 94 Comments

Magical Wizard Brony Detectives - Laichonious the Grey



Laich and Rets get into some trouble in Equestria.

  • ...
8
 94
 2,460

To Catch a Red Herring...

Morning. There was something insidious about the word as it drifted through Laichonious’ sleep-deprived brain. It kept to itself mostly, slinking around the filing cabinets and pedestrian thoughts. It leered at the happy Dreams that played their pageant on the main stage of the Subconscious district, entertaining some of the events of the previous day. If it had a face, the word would have had a slimy smile spread across it. A red tinge started to invade the space of the sleeping brain, and Morning knew that the time was soon... well, at hoof, it supposed. No matter how many times it did this despicable deed, Morning got a chuckle every time. The Dreams didn’t get to put on their pageants very often and Morning took particular pleasure in ruining the performance so utterly, that the Subconscious didn’t deliver the memories to the Conscious out of sheer embarrassment.

From the shrinking shadows, Morning got ready to spring the daily trap and see what havoc could be wrought. At the crescendo of the Dreams’ play, Morning sprang out and shouted the hated words, “RISE AND SHINE!!”

And then Laich exploded.

He exploded so forcefully that he almost cured the sickly burgundy couch of whatever ailed it, even as he thrashed his way out of the small mountain of blankets he had conjured the night before. Like a red, groggy avalanche of pony and fabric, he thunked onto the floor and then did his best impression of a beetle that had fallen on its back. It should be noted that the flailing and intermittent grunts are not at all under his direct control, in fact, Laich hasn’t even woken up yet. His Subconscious was still trying to apprehend Morning so that it could finally explain the years of undelivered dream memories to the Conscious.

The flailings soon ran their prescribed course and the red unicorn managed to stand up. His hooves were vaguely aware of having something important to do, now that the fun of sailing through the air with no regard to safety or reason was over, so they took Laichonious on a circuitous route to one of his favorite places: the kitchen. Hair tousled and eyes still better off closed, the runemaster bumped into his desk only twice, and the doorframe once, before he was able to successfully enter the kitchen. It was no mistake that he was in the kitchen; there was no physical way for anypony* to make such a cacophony without being mostly asleep in a kitchen filled with more pots and pans than it had a legal reason for having.

Laich’s aural re-enactment of a medieval battle ended with a celebratory and sleepy cheer as he found his specially-made toaster makina. It should be noted, again, that he was still asleep in most senses of the concept. He grabbed the makina from its hiding place with his hooves and put it on the counter with the sound of breakfast. Two slices of bread floated in a cloud of red magic over from the pantry and into the waiting maw of the arcane device. Magic continued to gather around Laich’s horn as he pushed the lever down on the side of the makina that ultimately sealed the fate of the bread. Then, he stared at it.

“So he does this every time?” asked a blue voice that drifted into Laich’s sleepy ear.

“Nah,” replied a tan voice, “only when he wants toast.”

“No.” The blue voice sighed, making a noise that was surprisingly close to the sound of powdered electricity escaping a bottle. “I meant the staring. Does he always stare at it?”

“Yeah,” confessed the tan voice. “I’ve watched him do this a few times, y’know, back in Canterlot. I used to think it was because he was looking for anything wrong, as it was working, but now I think he watches it ‘cuz he’s afraid it’ll kill him before he gets any toast.”

“Right,” sneered the blue voice, “ever think he might be counting?”

“Counting what?”

“Seconds.”

“He hasn’t even had firsts yet. Why would he be counting on seconds already?”

Powdered electricity escaped that bottle again. “No, dude, time. He’s counting for how long he wants the bread down.”

“Pppphff,” scoffed the tan voice. “It does it automatically, spring-loaded and stuff. It scares him every time, therefore, he’s afraid it’s going to kill him one day.”

“Maybe he’s counting so that when it does pop, it doesn’t scare him.”

“Stop being so logical,” grumbled the tan voice.

“Wait, didn’t he make this one?” asked the blue voice uncertainly.

Laich’s ear twitched slightly, annoyed that the Conscious hadn’t taken over management yet. It thought that this conversation might be somewhat important and therefore, Laich needed to pay attention.

“Yeah. Every toaster in Equestria was made by him. He made this one a few days ago, left probably twenty in Canterlot.”

“Why did he make so many?”

“Well, they weren’t all the same. He made some prototypes, kept complaining ‘it just wasn’t right’.” The tan voice sniggered. “Heh, I remember he told me one went totally wrong. It transmuted the bread into something else.”

“What was it?”

“He never said. All he told me was that it definitely was not toast.”

“Hmm,” mused the blue voice, “well I guess your explanation could work, but... why doesn’t he just make them without springs if they scare him?”

“Beats me,” shrugged the tan voice.

It was around this point that Laich’s ear managed to get his attention so he was vaguely aware that two ponies were talking about him. This unfortunately broke his concentration, such as it was, and the toaster decided that the bread was now toast.

And then Laich exploded for the second time.

Up came the toast quite suddenly, though not unexpected, with its menacing click-scritch of springs uncoiling and metal pieces sliding against one another. With a surprised yelp, Laich’s Consciousness fell into power, tripping over the “fight or flight” switch, which wasn’t so much a switch as it was a weighted coin that always fell on one side. The runemaster disappeared in a flash of red magic and reappeared behind Pissfer and Rets, who were in fact the blue and tan voices that had been watching the mostly-asleep wizard.

“It almost got me that time...” Laich rasped darkly, glaring at the contraption.

Rets glanced at him, then threw a meaningful one at Pissfer.

The blue unicorn shrugged off the glancing impact with a shake of his head.

Laichonious looked at Rets and Pissfer and quickly ran through everything that he remembered of the morning up to that point. It seemed to him that an awful lot happened in a very short amount of time and, more annoyingly, couldn’t recall any of it with anything bordering on clarity. So he decided that he would act as if nothing were amiss and butter the toast before it got cold. He got out of his crouch as casually as he could and stepped around Pissfer. “Mornin’,” he mumbled.

“Yup,” said Pissfer.

“No arguing there,” replied Rets.

A few awkward moments realized they had been discovered and tried to leave the space between the three bronies as surreptitiously as possible. It took them a while to clear out so the whole room had to endure the equally awkward sounds of Laich buttering the toast. Pissfer wasn’t as affected by the passage of the silent moments as the other two and obliviously got out a soft brush to finish his meticulous daily grooming.

Rets got up and took a few steps away from the blue unicorn before sitting down with a sniff. “Alright then,” Rets said, breaking the silence with as much finesse as a wrecking ball to the side of a building. “We should probably report that whole mess over at the Oranges, hum?”

“Um-hum,” agreed Pissfer.

“Yup.” Laich’s assent crumbled out of his mouth with a few tiny pieces of toast.

“Yeaaah... we should probably get some officers to go with us, back to the penthouse... to make it official,” Rets said, narrowing his eyes at the other two.

“Certainly,” came another crumbly word.

“Of course,” was Pissfer’s perfectly neutral agreement.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of that one green pegasus being there. Not one bit.”

“Never would have thought about it,” said Pissfer, stretching his neck out to brush his coat.

“What green pegasus?” asked a toast-filled Laich.

Rets’ ear twitched in an attempt to catch any scoff in their replies but couldn’t find any. “Okay then...”

“Um-hum,” said Pissfer with his eyes closed, still brushing his coat.

“I guess that settles it,” said Laich with his eyes regarding the toaster again.

Rets tried to not grind his teeth but that was like throwing a boulder into a lake and trying to not make it splash. “So who should we take?”

“Who’s ‘we’?” asked a tail-combing Pissfer.

“Y’know, you, me, Laich, AJ, all of us.”

“Don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Pissfer siad, wincing at a snag in his tail.

“Hum? Why? I think I can keep a close eye on it this time,” the toast-craving wizard replied from the kitchen.

Rets smacked himself in the face with a hoof. “No, Laich, not the toast. Us. Going to report stuff, to the police, together.” He turned back to the physicist with an annoyed shake of his head. “How do you figure us going together is a bad idea?”

“Well, Applejack isn’t awake, first of all,” the blue unicorn stated mater-of-factly.

“Hooookaaay...” Rets said, making a silly expression that resembled a boxer enjoying a wicked left hook to the face.

“She’s a farmer, Rets.” Pissfer blatantly missed Rets’ expression of ‘why don’t you tell me something I didn’t already know’. “She would have gotten up before all of us, if she was feeling all right. She had a rough day yesterday and is obviously tired. She’s not used to dealing with this kind of emotional stress.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, while calmly moving on to combing out his mane.

To Rets’ general annoyance, it was obvious once he thought about it. “Fine then. You, me and La--”

“No... I think I’ll stick around here, y’know so that she doesn’t wake up to everypony being gone.” The words again were delivered like letters by the mailmare.

“Why--”

“Because they don’t know me at the police station. That would be sort of weird don’t you think?”

Rets glared at the grooming pony, silently daring him to interrupt again. “Whatever,” he finally grumbled. “You done over there, Laich?”

“Uh, sure, but aren’t you gonna eat something?”

“I’ll grab something-or-other on the way,” the detective said while levitating his saddlebags onto his back. “I want to get to the bottom of this case, and I think I have a pretty good plan for that. Let’s go.”

“You think she’ll go for that though?” Laichonious asked as he and Rets walked down the wide hall to Daisy’s office.

“Well, we have a double ponynapping, one assault, a riot, and a vandalization of a public building and they are all connected, I just know it.” Rets nodded his head for emphasis.

“Look I believe you, but just your gut feeling might not be enough to convince the Chief Commissioner to let us start using police assets. On top of that we--”

“Shh,” Rets said, holding up a hoof to stop the other unicorn. “Hear that?” he whispered.

Voices drifted from behind the Commissioner’s door. Laich nodded. Both he and Rets crept forward soundlessly, wincing at every loud scritch and scratch of their hoof-falls which seemed to conjure every speck of grit or dust that ever existed and put it all under their unshod hooves. In spite of the awful racket, they managed to get close enough to press the sides of their heads up to the door without detection. Two voices muffled by the door carried on a strange conversation.

One voice, that was obviously male, was saying, “...and these are the last of the instructions.”

A soft shuffle of paper proceeded a quiet gasp. “Are you sure these will be necessary?” a female voice with a slight twang, that had to be the Commissioner herself, asked with reservation.

“If everything goes according to plan, those measures won’t be needed. But it is good to have a backup plan, no matter how unpleasant,” the male voice answered.

“Well, there’s no mistaking that seal... I never would have given this a second thought if not for that, you know.” Daisy said evenly.

“Be that as it may, you and I both have oaths to honor,” the male voice said with a healthy dose of solemnity.

“Yes, I reckon so. Don’t worry, I’ll do my part.” Daisy paused. It was the sort of pause that likes to happen just before a rattlesnake takes out a mouse.

Rets lifted an eyebrow at Laich, mouthing the word ‘oaths?’.

The runemaster shook his head slightly in the way that everypony knows on instinct that says ‘I have no idea but if we keep listening, I bet we’ll find out and be quiet about how you mouth words and things, we’re trying not to get caught’.

“What should I do about... well, them?” Daisy asked, tapping her hoof on something.

“Humor them for now, give them some wiggle room. Everything is well in hoof. I will be back later to check up on the implementation of those measures, Chief Commissioner,” the male voice said with finality.

The familiar tingle of magic being used in close proximity danced along Laich’s back and they heard the ripping, popping and hissing of a unicorn teleporting on the other side of the door. Just before he took his ear away from the dark wood, Laich heard the Commissioner sigh, “How did I get roped into this?”

Rets straightened and took a few steps back from the door, jerking his head in the direction they came like he had a leash in his teeth that could tug the runemaster away from the door.

“What was that all about?” Rets whispered when Laich joined him a few sceptres down the hall.

Laich shook his head, eyeing the door. It shrugged off his scrutiny and stubbornly refused to give anything up. “I have no idea,” he whispered back, “there’s more to Daisy Thorn than meets the eye, apparently.”

Rets rubbed his chin, frowning at his thoughts. They weren’t giving him much to work with. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on her then,” he muttered, “just in case...”

Laich waited for the qualifier, that never came. “Just in case what?” he hazarded.

“You know,” Rets rasped like a conspiracy peddler from the Cold War, “if we have to make a case, against her. We don’t know who this mystery unicorn is...” He paused and considered that last sentence, then dismissed it with a muttered “Hurrdurr,” then continued in his conspiratorial whisper. “He’s got some sort of leverage over Daisy, or they are part of some secret society with all this talk of oaths. Secret societies almost never mean good things.” He finished, glaring at the silent door.

Laichonious thought for a moment. “What about the Cutie Mark Crusaders? They were relatively harmless.”

Rets shook his head, making his fedora wobble on his head. He trotted past the runemaster mumbling in a nasally voice under his breath, “What about the Cutie Mark Crusaders? Had a secret society they told everypony about...”

Laich snorted at his friend’s antics and followed him back to the office door that so innocently hid possibly-nefarious things behind its richly stained planks. It innocently intimidated the two bronies as well, casually blocking their way and their ability to stay skeptical of the towering personality that resided in the space beyond the unassuming portal. After a few more moments of mental preparation, Rets lifted his hoof like a pony taking the first step to the gallows and knocked. The sound of his hoof against the door did not sound like a knock; it was more like the sound of a lead brick hitting the lid of a sarcophagus, heavy and foreboding.

“Come in!” barked the Chief Commissioner.

Laich’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat and immediately started racing to make up for the lapse. The door eased open with a push from Rets’ magic, revealing... not exactly what the runemaster had expected.

Walking into the office of the Chief Commissioner was like walking into a miniature representation of every Wild West cliché ever graced by the boots of Clint Eastwood. The floor was untreated hardwood, the sort of grey old-even-though-it’s-new kind. The walls were normal enough if you disregarded a number of things about them. One of those things to ignore could be the Minotaur horns mounted on the wall behind her desk. Random bits of tack also adorned the wall that suddenly took on a new meaning once Laich realized that it could be used on him, now that he was a pony. A decorative saddle that had no pommel or back, was lined with green sequins along the outside and fringy frilly tassels that he couldn’t imagine the Chief wearing. Her desk was a massive affair that likely required the lives of four trees to make. It dominated most of the room with its carved corners and dark, high-gloss finish. It had nothing on the presence of its occupant, however. Daisy Thorn, Chief Commissioner of the Manehattan Police, calmly slid a manilla folder underneath a stack of identical folders to her right and regarded the two bronies over steepled hooves. A pleasant smile graced her face, the same sort of smile you could find on an eagle, or lion, or wolf, or all three combined.

Laich found himself seriously doubting his conviction to suspect her of anything. In fact, he bravely put such thoughts out of his head, on the off chance that the Commissioner could smell fear, or suspicion. In a strange moment of surrealism, he noticed and was fascinated by the carving on her desk of vines, bearing wicked, hooked thorns amid detailed daisy blossoms. Scrolls of vines and thorns branched off of the corners in majestic, sweeping patterns, kissed with just a hint of gold leaf. A whisper of paper caught his ear and took his eyes along for the ride.

“I reckon you colts are here to talk about this,” Daisy tapped a new folder with a red stripe around it. “Been a long while since we’ve had to deal with a ponnynapping.” She pinned them to the floor with her cyan gaze, daring either one to press his luck and make a quip about a sleeping pony.

Rets shook of the effects of her stare before Laich even started to budge it. “How... did you get that so fast? We only just filed it downstairs a few minutes ago.”

The predatory smile deepened. “Fellas, you’re hot gossip around these parts. There’s little Ah don’t know about what you’ve been up to.” Another of those pauses dropped in to hint at their imminent demise. Rets’ ears laid back of their own accord and held tight to his head like shipwrecked sailors clinging to a rock in a raging sea. “Miss File is pretty good about sending important files to me right quick.” The Chief sat back in her chair with the faintest of sighs. “So, now that you’ve got your report in, I s’pose you’re here to ask me a favor or two? Been a few days since you two have been around. I thought you’d have shown up sooner.”

Rets glanced at Laich to see if he caught the same tone in Daisy’s voice that he had. Laich unfortunately had gone out to an early lunch but forgot to take his body with him, based on the terrified rictus on the runemaster’s face and the blank stare aimed at the Chief Commissioner. The tan detective cleared his throat, forcing his ears to return to their normal, alert positions, which only made his hat scoot forward on his head. “We, erm, would have been here sooner but uh...” Daisy cocked her head to the side, looking at him like a lone wolf deciding if he would be a tasty snack. Rets only quailed slightly. They say that everypony has this point where he flips a crazy switch. The pressure of Daisy’s presence, coupled with the stress of enduring what was possibly the worst week of his life, seemed to be the Point of Restamoreh, for in his brain that switch flipped, sending a cascade of neurons lighting up like the Big Bang through all the events of the past few minutes that revealed to him in a moment of blinding epiphany that there was a way out of his predicament. “...um, we thought your were busy with somepony so we didn’t want to intrude. Isn’t that right, Laich?”

“Humwah?” His ears tried to shoot up but were hindered by the pointy hat. He stood up straight in a way that somehow made him look like he was about to go airborne. “Ah, yah... Didn’t want to accuse somepo--intrude!... on anypony, if you were busy that is--which is to say that I didn’t know if you were or not... uh, busy...” Beads of sweat appeared on the wizard’s forehead--sparkling with the seemingly endless showers of gold specks from his hat--big enough to convince an Indian to trade whole countries for them. “Uh, heheheh... did you know that bats always turn left when they exit a cave?”

The room became awfully crowded with silent moments after Laich finished his utterance. A small cough from the red unicorn snapped Rets out of his stupor of disbelief. The tan detective turned back to Daisy only to find her staring at Laich with a mixture of awe, pitty, comprehension and consternation. Or it could have been indigestion.

“Ahem,” Rets said politely, just to give the moments a cue to leave with as much grace as they could muster.

Daisy’s stunning cyan eyes snapped to Rets’ own blue as if wondering why he was still there. But they remembered quickly enough. “Oh, Ah wasn’t busy at all, Detective. What makes you think that?”

“Well,” Rets ventured boldly, like small yappy dog sniffing the air before he attempts to leave the safety of his master’s home, “we heard somepony teleporting from this room, and voices.”

The Chief Commissioner blinked at him in a practiced, slow, shutting and closing of her eyes that made him instantly regret opening his dumb mouth. “Mr. Retsamoreh, what you heard was the folder arriving from Miss File and any ‘voices’ was me reading out loud to m’self. I tend to do that a lot. You were more than welcome to come in at any time.” The smaller sister of that predatory smile appeared on her lips.

Rets narrowed his eyes slightly, not willing to give away more than an unspoken ‘touché’. Outmaneuvered this time, the detective rallied his daring and decided to launch into his proposal. “Well, it’s rather nice of you to hear us out anyway. I know we haven’t been very, productive, lately but we hit a wall in the case. Yesterday, we found the first crack in that wall, and we are close to catching our first break on it. I know it.”

Daisy flipped open the folder and scanned down the page, then looked over the top of it to him. “Yes... according to your,” she raised an eyebrow at the two bronies, “initial assessment of the Orange’s penthouse, you believe that there was a struggle, that they were taken against their will and by ponies they trusted.” She glanced at Laich, who had the blessed horse sense to nod confidently. “This is a mite hard to take in all at once. ‘Specially considering you were only there for,” she consulted the report, “...‘long enough to know what happened and to get jumped by some pegasus creep’ was your exact wording there. You know I can’t credit this report without some form of confirmation.” A few locks of her dirty-blonde mane drifted in front of her face, fixing Rets with a one-eyed stare that was disconcertingly like the cold, ruthless gaze of an eagle.

“There wasn’t another form to fill out, was there?” Laich asked, accidentally bursting the bubble of intensity that had been laboriously inflating itself around the Commissioner and the tan detective.

Daisy seemed to be on the verge of answering his question with some complimentary venom before Rets barreled on with his pitch. “Which is exactly why we’re here, Chief. We need a few officers to come with us to the scene of the crime so that we can do a thorough sweep, check and scrutiny of all the evidence. We’ll need cameras as well. For proper documentation.”

Daisy closed the report, not exactly glaring at Retsamoreh. “One camera,” she said, holding up a hoof. The look on the detective’s face must have been something, for her gaze softened a trifle. “Who would you like to take with you? I can only spare two officers right now. We’ve got our hooves full cleaning up that riot from last night.” The Chief sighed, slouching in her chair. She suddenly looked more tired than a three-legged dog after a triathlon.

Laich and Rets shared another glance. “If it helps at all, Chief,” Rets said, taking a step forward, “I think that the riot, the library and this ponnynapping are all related.”

Daisy laughed ruefully, putting a hoof over her face. “I don’t see how that would help anything, Restamoreh, but I appreciate the gesture.” She set the file folder on top of the tall stack to her right. “You should get a move-on to that scene. Sounds like you fellas have a lot of work ahead of you. Just make sure to leave a note or something with Miss File at the front desk, let me know who you take with yah and when you plan to be back.”

“Sure thing, Chief.” Rets said with a tip of his hat. Laich followed after him, and a trail of gold followed the red unicorn. As soon as the door was shut, and they were safely six sceptres down the hall, Rets stomped a hoof and shook his head. “I don’t like it, not one bit.”

“What’s not to like?” the runemaster quipped. “You got what you came for.”

“Yeah, but it was too easy.”

Laich raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You feelin’ alright, Rets?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that usually you complain about things being too hard and--”

“Yeah well this time it’s different. Besides, what’s up with you anyway?”

“What?”

“What was all that stuff about bats, back there?”

“Oh,” Laich shrugged. “I’m just not feeling myself today. But that isn’t important. Who are we taking with us?”

Rets snorted as they descended the stairs to the more populated first floor. “Y’know, I didn’t think that far.”

“You’ve done that five times now,” Rets announced to every cop in the room.

Sandy frowned, taking her aviator sunglasses off and putting them back in her uniform pocket. “Excuse me?” she asked, ruffling her wings.

“Taking your sunglasses off and then putting them back on. Why do you keep doing that?”

“Bad habits die hard, kid.” She shook her head, dropping another bit of broken wine glass into a thick paper baggy; it was only one of many that a spindly green unicorn officer was levitating. He floated it back, quickly penning a number on it before putting it with the others. Lieutenant Beaches frowned even deeper, if it were possible, and stared at the remains of what was probably an obscenely expensive glass table at some point.

“We’ll send these in for inspection, as usual.”

“For DNA testing?” Rets ventured, raising his brow in surprise.

What testing?”

“Nevermind,” he said instantly, awkwardly turning to the side. The few other investigators - all of them top-notch, according to Ms. Thorn - who had been allowed to gather evidence in the crime scene milled about anxiously, now that most everything had been taken care of and placed into little baggies with numbers. Two of them sat in the open kitchen, leaning on the table and fervently talking things over. The pseudo-detective grimaced, muttering, “it’s like the dark ages. I’m going to go insane here.”

“Can’t say I don’t agree with you, my boy,” a stuffy, whimsical voice said from behind. Rets blinked extra slowly and turned around to face the obnoxious hat addressing him. “Of course, I can’t say I fully agree with you, either. I suppose I could mostly not really possibly agree as well, but- oho, that’s a completely different animal altogether!”

“A puma, perhaps, inspector?” Rets replied flatly. “And I’m not that young...” he muttered in afterthought.

“Yes, see, that’s why I like you!” Spot announced with joy, hugging the unicorn’s neck. “Knowledge of pumas existing is sparse in the ranks of common ponies, but it’s something you and I share. I read your report, too. Well, the second one. Not the one penned by that buffoonish wizard. Very good for somepony like you.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Especially the play-by-play of the crime. Not many would be able to do that like you did just then. Ah, but it wasn’t perfect. Coming along was a brilliant idea on my part-”

“My part, but I’m regretting it,” Retsamoreh said to himself, drowned out by the inspector.

“-because you would’ve missed several impeccably important details that, I assure you, will prove most valuable. If you would please follow me,” said Spot, meandering past the remnants of the team to the two holes in the wall.

Lagging behind with a kind of subtle displeasing glare a detective** can master, Rets took a deep breath and cautiously - his pride at risk - followed.

“You did nothing I couldn’t have done myself, unfortunately, but you put on a good show for the others and, better yet, everything you said was spot-on. I merely feel it wise to tell you what else I’ve deduced, going from what you’ve said. Observe, the holes in the wall. From an earth pony, correct? No other pony would have instinctively used their hind legs in a direct attack. What you didn’t see, however, were the tiny shards of metal it left behind. Ah, here. Some got left behind. Look.”

He moved aside to let the unicorn lean in, narrowing his eyes. Sure enough, in the dim afternoon lightning, tiny specks of reflective light were buried in the ruined part of the wall. They both chuffed amiably at it, one impressed and the other very secure in his own pride.

“Horseshoes, as you know, are constructed with the sole purpose of being long-lasting and resisting wear-and-tear. There is, however, one exception to that. Aluminum. It is just our luck that one of the factories in the Diamond District, recently the victim of some rather nasty worker-led riots, happens to make such a horseshoe.” He straightened up, and the two wandered in the direction of the broken table.

“So he lives near the Diamond District, then?” Rets asked, the microchips in his head suddenly finding themselves at odds with the gears in Spot’s.

“No, he works at the factory. Probably on the main floor with the rest of the mooks. The reason, simply, is because aluminum horseshoes are a favorite of the nobility and socialites of the city. That includes rich businessponies.”

“Wait, what? That doesn’t fit. He - or she, I guess, would have to be like the owner, right? The Oranges would know him through business and all, invite them over for wine to discuss things, and find themselves betrayed and kidnapped.”

“Not at all, detective. Firstly, workers at the factories all get discounts. Secondly, wouldn’t the Oranges serve their high-class guests equally high-class beverages? Most regular higher class ponies like the Oranges would, but the wine served here was dirt cheap. Grocery store type. I wouldn’t even present it to you and be able to keep a straight face!”

“I don’t drink wine. How do you even know it was cheap; did you... taste it?”

“That wasn’t the point, and no, of course I didn’t. The bottle was on the counter. It cost fifteen bits and was berry flavored.”

“Presumably, a good lot of them are berry flavored,” Rets rattled off, desperately trying to say something smart. It didn’t work.

Inspector Spot smirked, and they both fixed their hats in unison. “Have you ever tried coconut wine, Detective Rets? Or banana? How about daisy? There’s quite a few non-berry drinks out there if you look closely enough. Try not to assume too many things.”

“I just told you, I don’t drink wine.”

A perturbed cough interrupted them, and they turned to see the ever-grimacing Sandy Beaches grimacing slightly more than usual at them. “You were just getting to the good part, too. Try to keep on subject, boys.”

“Right, right. I do all of the dirty work and can’t have any shred of enjoyment from anything ever,” Spot groaned, rolling his eyes. “As I was saying, we’ve severely narrowed down our suspects from an earth pony and a pegasus down to an earth pony who works at an aluminum horseshoe factory and presumably a pegasus who shares the station. The likeliness they both work at the same place, however, is less than desirable. If the pegasus was the same one that assaulted you and your friend, then I fear he may be a different breed of dangerous altogether. Very few ponies are specifically trained in combat, especially against unicorns trained in the art of the law.”

“Err, right. Did you really read my report?” Rets asked, his face flat.

“Of course I did. You were taken by surprise, and that gives you something of a free-pass. How you described the pony is what truly caught me for a whirl, though. A specialized cloak-and-dagger type of attire, if you were correct. But not for stealth, no; it was flashy and donned purely to disguise the wearer. If this is true and you weren’t just seeing colors from being bonked on the head so many times, Detective, then we may very well be dealing with a certain kind of superstitiously inclined group of ponies who, until now, have operated in complete secrecy.”

“A cult?” Rets offered, warily, since his pride was already in tatters all over the ground as it were.

“Sort of. It’s definitely something to keep on the table. I was thinking more along the lines of a group of ponies that believe in something silly enough to break the law for it. Either way, we know at least one of them works at the factory and knows the Oranges well enough for them to meet in private. Why they knew each other might be a whole different story. Our best bet, I believe, would be starting from the top.”

“I know what horseshoe factory you’re talking about. Owner’s a bigshot named Quick Rich. Best thing is, he’s an earth pony, from what I remember. Ran into him a couple of times a few years back, when the corruption scandal was going on,” Sandy said.

“He was innocent?” the unicorn asked.

“It wasn’t against him. He was just a witness for the defense. It might be a good idea to call him in for questioning, either way. It’ll be a good source of information.” She paused, fishing in her jacket for something. “On the note of information, we managed to catch one of the caterers that worked with the Oranges enough to be mistaken for a butler. He’s at the station waiting for questioning. You want to come along and see what we can get? According to how our PI system works, you’re with us on this case for as long as Applejack’s willing to pay you.”

“We’re doing it for free, actually.”

“Oh? Well in that case...” she said, pulling out her sunglasses and placing them over her face in one swift movement. Rets gaped. “It looks like-”

“Really, only one caterer?” Rets interrupted. Sandy’s mouth hung open, and then worked open and shut like she was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “If they had a party the night before, or had any parties at all, it’d be best to gather as many of them as we can for questioning. Does that sound about right, Inspector?”

“Quite right, my boy. Excellent observation. We do actually have one of the party-goers at the moment, and we’re currently doing our best to round up the others. He and the caterer are at the station, if you’d like to go talk to them now.”

“Sounds good. I think Applejack could provide some useful information as well, but she’s at our apartment sleeping.”

Sandy wobbled, one eye twitching.

“A lady, staying at your apartment? Especially Applejack. Scandalous!”

“Well, when you put it that way, yeah, but she just didn’t want to pay for a hotel. She had been planning to stay with her aunt and uncle, after all. You wanna come get her with me?”

The two walked off toward the door and out of the crime scene. Sandy’s eye stopped twitching, she took a deep breath, and finished her sentence. Nopony listened, though, and wasn’t likely important.

“So who’s the perp?” Laichonious asked, practicing his levitation by simultaneously floating fifteen toothpicks in a very specifically erratic patterns that only meant something to him.

Everypony had left; Lieutenant Murphy was the only one to ignore her paranoia and desire to keep her eyeballs inside her own skull, or at least non-punctured. She narrowed her eyes at the offending unicorn, for both protection and to express her grudging amusement at his antics.

“Sorry, buddy, but he hasn’t done anything wrong... yet. We’re just waiting for your partner and the Inspector to show up and tell us what they figured out. You really should know this, though,” she said, turning to look through the one-way window into a brightly lit room usually intended for interrogations. Two expensive*** couches laid peacefully on either side of a wooden coffee table, where fresh tea had been set ten minutes earlier and had stopped being fresh five after that. A stallion sat on the left couch, shakily drinking from a pink teacup.

“Why’s that?” Laichonious asked, peering suspiciously at the gryphon.

“You’ve got a copy of his file sitting right in front of you,” she deadpanned, not moving her literally hawk-like glare from the pony.

Laich’s head jerked down to look at the open folder sitting on the table. Three toothpicks embedded themselves into the wood; Murphy flinched. “Oh. So I do. Why’s that?”

The gryphon groaned, frowning deeply in the creepy way that gryphons could somehow do. She finally tore her gaze away from the unfortunate pony in the room and turned to Laich. “Because that Applejack filly-”

“Mare.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” she growled. “She hired you two to solve this case, and since you also work with us as consultants, we’re working together in the name of cooperation. If we wanted to, we could just deny you the information we have and leave you alone, but there’s good reasons the Chief Commissioner sent for some PIs. You aren’t as clogged up by other jobs as we are. Just be patient, okay? They’ll be finishing up at the crime scene soon and be back to talk to this geddy.”

“Hm...” the runemaster mused. “Unicorn. Waiter. Ewe Dewing.” He blinked, briefly staring through the window. “What kind of dumb name is that?”

“The name of one of the best caterers in all of Equestria. Give the bloke some respect, because he apparently worked for years to earn that title. His business has catered to every single rich and influential pony from this city to Canterlot, and it just so happens he was good enough friends with the Oranges for them to personally hire him on multiple occasions. He was also nice enough to agree to answer a few questions about the Oranges.” She shrugged, turning to another table to grip lazily at a cup of what was probably coffee.

“He must’ve known a lot about them. As good a pony to interrogate as anypony, I suppose,” Laichonious said, scratching his chin with a hoof. “Do you all still have that makina prototype I lent you?”

“Yea, it’s in the break room. And just for future reference, we aren’t interrogating him,” she sighed, taking a long sip. A moment later, eyes twitching, she turned to see he wasn’t there any longer, and the door was still swinging from his quick exit.

“Unicorns are so weird,” she said. “And I can never tell if it’s the stupid kind of weird, or the smart kind.”

Dewing, who had indeed worked extremely hard for the respect ponies gave him, was highly uncomfortable as it was. Granted, he was used to being treated as unimportant background pony existing only to pop into existence to refill drinks or serve a steaming platter of whatever the chef gave him, but they still respected him for being the best at it.

Most respected him quite a lot, actually. Some went out of their way to hire him specifically. The Oranges, for instance, often employed his services, and he never denied them. They, although coming from a completely different social class, had all been friends at one time, and the last thing he’d ever expected to see was them getting their selves up and nabbed and him getting questioned for it.

Laichonious glared at Ewe from behind the door. There wasn’t a window, but that didn’t stop him. He could imagine the prim blue-mane that shone and sparkled no matter what lighting there was - even complete darkness. The pale tan unicorn would be sitting in the most uncomfortable looking polite position, sipping away at tea designed for criminals to drink. On his flank, especially polished like it was something to be proud of, would be a cutie mark depicting a covered silver platter. There was probably a bomb under it, Laich thought, wielding the makina behind himself in a field of levitation, along with several leftover toothpicks.

They were leftover because there were only five left. All of the others were embedded in various walls, doors, or tables, and in one case the hoof of a pony in the small cafeteria he had visited.

For the longest, briefest, and possibly the most awkward and serious moment in his entire life, Laich’s hoof hovered next to the door, ready to knock. He lowered it, blinking and staring straight ahead as if it’d never happened, and walked through.

“Special Investigator, Consultant, Wizard and Runemaster Laichonious, but mostly wizard and leastly Raposo. I understand you came here willingly, is that correct?” He asked, the makina safely tucked out of view and promptly moved behind the couch opposite of Ewe before it could be noticed.

“Zis ees correct. I was a good friend of ze Oranges, ever s-”

“Occupation and name?” Laich interrupted, taking a seat on the couch. Gold particles fell all around him, and some roll of the dice determined his serious-business face didn’t crack from the glee underneath his mask.

“Err, waiter, Ewe Dewing,” the unicorn replied bluntly, eyebrows raised.

“Well, waiter, Ewe Dewing...” the other unicorn started, staying casual.

“Sitting here, patiently. Please, may we begin ze meeting?”

“Of course, of course,” Laichonious said, the frenzied toothpicks slowing to a crawl. “Now, I was just going to go ahead and do this as quickly as possible, since it’s all just regular questioning.We’ll start off easy: how did you meet the Oranges?”

“Ah, yes, zat is an easy one. Zee Oranges grew up in very privileged families - far more zan my own, but zey could not afford a tutor, so zey were forced to attend ze local private school. My own parents sent me zere as well, and ze three of us became fast friends against all ze odds. We grew up togezzer, we played, fought, danced and lived. We lost eachozzers contact sometime, but, ‘ow do you say, true friendship can never be broken? Zey were good times, but ended when zey took control over zeir rightful company and I created mine from ze dust.”

“Mhm,” Laich said, nodding in the way that you always see and can never decipher if the person is actually listening or not. “Okay, go on.”

“Well, zat is nearly it. We encountered eachozzer afterward, and zey were very surprised to see I was a rising name in ze catering business, and I was surprised to see zey were at ze top of ze social ladder! I have kept in touch with zem often after zat, and vice-versa, as you would say.”

“How often, and how much did you know about their personal lives? We need to know exactly who they were friends with, enemies with, or otherwise. Would anyone want them gone?” Laichonious asked, silently proud of himself while simultaneously looking as smug as a pony could be. Ewe didn’t notice, though, and focused on his story.

“What? Barely anypony would have a vendetta against ze Orange familiy! Zey are ze most charitable, kind ponies in the city. Zey kept well away from ze corporate and noble drama zat I always see in ze catering business, and in zat, zey are smart. Sure, zere were ponies zey kept well away from, but only because zey did not agree with zeir business or social practices. Zey refused to tolerate it, eizer; one instance, zey kicked out a pony attending one of zeir parties who was being rambunctious in... well, ze way ze rich ponies can be. It was quite ze show and talk of ze city for a few weeks.”

Laich’s ears perked up, and he rattled off the first two questions to enter his mind, and not the third, because that had to do with food. “How long ago was this, and who was the pony?”

“Ah,” Ewe starting, brow furrowing in concentration on the memory. “She was... ah, bank director or somezing. Metallurgist’s, I believe. ‘er name is on ze tip of mah tongue.”

“When you remember it, you can tell me. Do you think this pony would have something against them? Did they have any other bad blood between them?”

“Ah, well, zere were a lot of problems, I suppose, between zem and ze Metallurgist’s Bank, but zey were petty disputes. Ze Director was always a tad sleazy, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t think there’s any other meaning for the word ‘sleazy’****, but go on,” Laichonious said, leaning forward. Ewe nodded, his own expression far off as his inner mind brought forth more memories.

“Ozzer zan zat, ze Oranges were ze most inoffensive ponies in ze ‘igher class. Bit Balance.”

“Huh?” Laich’s attention refocused on Ewe, who had brightened up considerably.

“I ‘ave just remembered: ze Bank Director’s name, it is Bit Balance. She and ze mayor work closely together, if I remember correctly. Sleazy, talkative, razzer obnoxious and, er, slimy. Not very good company for parties, but everypony invites ‘er anyways. If it ‘elps, she attended ze party the Oranges hosted before zeir... disappearance, but zen again, a lot of ze ponies did. Come to zink of it, she was acting razzer out-of-character at ze party... far too friendly toward ‘er ‘osts. Could zat help, maybe?”

“Loads, once I get that info to my partner. Anything else happen of interest at the party.... And when exactly was this? The Oranges were taken yesterday morning or late-night Matrida-”

“Matrida. It was Matrida night.... lots of ponies were zere, since zey were having some sort of pre-celebration for ze grand opening of ze Red ‘Erring.”

“The what?” Laich’s ears perked up, and his eyes widened. Visions of giant balloons with swirling letters printed on its sides blotting out the dreary sky flew across his eyes, and a little spark ignited. The spark of adventure. There was possibly only one other pony who loved balloons more than himself, the unicorn figured, and he would be telling that pony as soon as he could.

Rets would love it.

“Ze Red ‘Erring, designed by ze mastermind inventor Big Shot. ‘E attended ze party and gave out several of ze invitations face-to-face. Everypony zere received one. Ze Oranges already knew about it, of course, but zey were so proud of ze spectacular cards zat zey put ze card on ze counter for all to see. Even ze more rambunctious members of ze party were a tad... ah, in awe at it. For ze Oranges, it meant a lot more than a simple invitation to a party. It was... well, zey invested quite a few bits into ze inventor and his cause. Ze Red ‘Erring was as much zeir legacy as it was his.”

“His ‘cause’? What exactly is his ‘cause’?” Laich questioned, leaning closer.

“Aha! Well, it is always explained better by him, but ze points are always ze same. ‘E will not stop until every earth pony can do magic, and every unicorn may fly, and so on. All with ‘is inane contraptions. Ze Red ‘Erring is... I suppose, a proof-of-concept. Ze Oranges helped fund its construction.”

“Really. That’s... interesting. Where do you get all of this information, anyways? Just from overhearing things?” the runemaster asked, sitting back. “You probably overhear a lot, being a waiter and all.”

“Caterer,” the waiter corrected, wrinkling his nose. Laich shrugged, and didn’t notice the brief panicked expression that crossed the other unicorn’s face. Somebody behind the wall that wasn’t really a wall, however, did. “I am afraid zat I do not reveal information gathered from ze client events. I share it wiz ze police because ze Oranges were my good friends, and I would despair if anyzing were to ‘appen to them. If you zink it will ‘elp you in your investigation, I will answer.”

Laich stared blankly for a moment, having delved so deep into what he presumed was probably Rets’ typical train of thought that he could be called a hijacker. In front of him laid a mental transcript of what Ewe had just said, except one by one all of the other words fell away until only one remained.

After a few seconds filled to bursting with awkward and silence, he asked, “Did you say gathered?

“Uh,” Ewe replied hollowly, and then the gates of Tartarus opened up a sliver.

YOU DID WHAT WITH THE TOASTER?!” Rets screamed, his two forehooves trying to pull his hat down over his head while simultaneously trying to bury his face in the wooden desk.

“It didn’t hurt him.” Laich stared through the false-window, wearing the expression of someone proud of themselves and not understanding why everyone else was so mean about it.

“Much,” Murphy said amidst several chuckles. Hooves slammed on the table in the interrogation room. “It was actually pretty genius, for what it was. Making toast for a pony being interrogated doesn’t technically count as psychological torture. Even if he tries some sort of legal action in the case to delegitimize the event, we’ll be safe in the eyes of the law.”

“Yeah, so?” Rets grumbled into the desk.

“Don’t forget the good-cop, bad-cop routine I did,” Laich said proudly, beaming at his friend.

Rets burrowed deeper into the desk. “I don’t even want to know how you did that... by yourself.”

“Once-in-a-lifetime performance, kiddo,” Murphy snorted, wiping her eyes with a talon. “I swear, that had to be the most clever and entirely legal way I’ve seen a criminal get questioned.”

“He got lucky,” Rets groused, lifting up his head. “Extremely lucky. Laich, you really should’ve waited for me.”

The runemaster pursed his lips for a moment, and then decided to frown. “I’m a consultant too. I didn’t have to wait for you just because you think you’re better at detective-ing.”

“But I am better,” Retsamoreh retorted. “You took a serious risk that could have jeopardized the whole case, all on a whim. Justice isn’t some kind of thing you do on a whim; it has to be done by the books.” He leaned in closer, glaring at the pointy-hat wearing unicorn across the table. Laich mirrored the stance, narrowing his eyes and flicking his ears.

Two talons cut through the tension between them like sour butter. Murphy’s voice beat down the silence. “Whoa, whoa! You two whiny mares need to stay cool while you’re here, got it? If you’re going to fight, do it elsewhere, but not here. Yes, it was a dumb risk and I regret not stopping you when I should’ve, Mister Pointy Hat Wizard or whatever you call yourself, but I saw it was working, and it worked. Detective Rets, calm down before you pop your horn off. It’s over. It’s done. And your buddy here just managed to solve probably the largest corporate espionage case in Equestria. We’d caught wind of it before, but the trail was cold before we even started looking. The facts are-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have stopped at the apartment fo-”

It takes a certain kind of predatory glare to silence a pony like Rets. They’re very rare, and Murphy gave one of them.

The facts are...” she growled, “that it’s over and done with. The end. Rets, we still need you to help question another pony we’ve brought in... uh, Quick Rich. Affiliate of the Oranges and former business partner, from what Ewe’s been spouting at us. Pretends to like them, really doesn’t. Apparently ‘avoiding drama’ really just means having less of it. Laichonious?”

“Yeah?” the unicorn replied sullenly. Murphy rolled her eyes.

“Go home and get some rest. You’re a mage, not a detective, and any more of this is going to wear you out.”

“Righto... I did have something I wanted to do,” Laich said, a hint of a smile returning to his face. He pushed his chair up, and making sure to look anywhere else in the room that wasn’t Rets, casually walked out. The remaining pony slumped his shoulders and laid his head on the desk once more.

“Sometimes I wish he’d be serious for once.”

“Sometimes you just need to lighten up,” Murphy replied curtly, looking back to the interrogation room. China crunched. Rets flinched, but not at the broken porcelain.

“You think Laich wrote the notes I asked him to take during the interrogation?” Rets mused to nopony in particular.

Pissfer replied with a non-committal grunt.

Applejack tossed her head. “Yah say it like you think he hasn’t,” she said, smiling. “‘Sides, didn’t you already get the whole shebang at the precinct?”

Rets gave her a sidelong look. “Well, don’t get me wrong, Laich does plenty of... things.They just aren’t usually the things good for me. I got Murphy’s side of it, but I’d like to have his perspective too...” His ear swiveled to the door of the apartment as they approached, a tired frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hear for yourself, I don’t think that’s the sound of notes being copied into a form that I can read easily.” He moved to the side to let Pissfer and AJ listen at the knobless door.

Tinny bell-like tones tolled behind the door, picking out a soft melody.

“Sounds like he’s messing with his makina again,” mumbled Pissfer.

“That’s comin’ from his little magic machines?” AJ asked incredulously.

“Well sure,” Rets replied, “he’s been trying to do something for like a week, making all sorts of noises back there.”

“Hmm,” AJ paused again at the door as the sounds started to multiply. “Open it,” she said.

“What?” Pissfer and Rets said in unison.

“Open the door, I wanna hear what he’s doing. Sounds like music ta me.”

Rets tilted his head to the side, listening more intently. “Huh, I guess it sort of does...” Cerulean magic gathered around his horn and snaked over to the magic lock, opening the door with the faintest click.

The three ponies entered the front room of the office bathed in a two-part harmony played with what sounded like those little music boxes you could wind up and stare at for hours, never mind the music that floated eerily from them. Pissfer shut the door silently, joining an entranced orange mare and frowning tan stallion.

“I guess it’s pretty at least,” Rets said under his breath. “Just as long as he doesn’t start singing.”

Before he even finished voicing his disparaging remark, a low voice timidly began to sing along with the mechanical instruments.It was nearly bowled over by their assertive dinging, but the words managed to slip out to the other side of the door where there wasn’t as much competition.

Are you going to Canterlot Faire?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

For she is a true love of mine

“Mmmyeah, I’m stopping this,” Rets started for the door to the back room but Applejack held out a foreleg, barring his way. He pushed against the orange appendage but it didn’t budge any more than an iron bar would. He gave her a look of consternation, only to see she wasn’t even looking at him.

“Shh! I wanna listen,” she said in a low, distracted voice.

Rets sighed and held his peace, or rather, his annoyance.

Tell her I’m walking on clover hooves

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

A thousand miles my love to prove

For she is a true love of mine

Tell her I’m bringing an honest heart

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

To keep it whole or rend it apart

For she is a true love of mine

Tell her I’ll catch her an errant moon beam

Parsley, sage rosemary and thyme

And make her a cloak without a seam

For she is a true love of mine

Tell her that even if I grow old

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Through the years, I’ll never be cold

For she is a true love of mine

Are you going to Canterlot Faire?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

For she is a true love of mine

The last notes of the simple song lingered as if they weren’t sure where to go, but finally they left the three ponies in a strange silence that certainly had never been there before. A few clicks and bangs littered the silence from behind the door, followed by a few more clicks before Laich opened the door. He didn’t notice his friends standing in the room with varying degrees of astonishment and, in one case, grudging respect. A parchment floated in front of his face, a quill scratching across its surface as he hummed the tune of the song he just sang supposedly to himself. He even went around the couch to his desk to set the paper with others in a neat stack in the corner. The three ponies turned to follow his progress through the front room, none of them saying a word.

The runemaster finally looked up from his desk, another stanza of the song freezing in his throat. He stared wide-eyed at them like a rabbit that had just caught whiff of a wolf. Tiny gold flecks falling to the desk from his hat were the only things moving in the room for a solid two seconds.

“How long have you been here?” Laich asked, barely moving his lips.

“Long enough,” Rets responded in like manner.

The loud thud of Laich’s face hitting the desk startled all of them out of their stupor.

“H-hey, sugarcube,” Applejack trotted over to the red unicorn, “That was... well it was right beautiful I think. Ah didn’t understand any of them words you said, but I really liked it. Um...” she turned to Pissfer and Rets with a pleading expression.

Pissfer was biting his lip and Rets had a hoof in his face.

“Ah... Ah understand if it’s embarrassin’ but... hoo boy that was pretty. Was that the language y’all spoke before you came here?” She shot another ineffectual glance at the two other bronies who were still not lending a word to help. “I’m glad Ah got to hear it, even if I didn’t understand the words... Um...” Applejack was thinking fast, something that she was very good at. She also has an uncanny ability to notice things about ponies, things that took others a lot longer to notice. See, Applejack was perhaps one of the most pure of heart in all of Equestira. Her unusually keen sense of honesty and fervent goodwill made her the perfect vessel of the Element of Harmony, and as such, she was entitled to brief insights into the ponies she got to meet. In a flash of thought, she enjoyed one such insight, and she smiled at the the red unicorn. “Did you write that song?”

Finally the wizard stirred. “No,” he mumbled into the desk, “it’s a very old song. So old in fact, we aren’t even sure how old it is. The melody itself has roots going back nearly five hundred years.” He picked his head up from the wood and slouched into the desk, letting his chin hang over the far edge. “The original words to the song have never been found, as far as we know, but a particular form of verse has become the generally accepted as being the original.” His head went up and down as he rattled off the information. Applejack was genuinely interested, but she was more pleased with how his attitude changed with her careful prodding.

“What was that? If yah don’t mind me askin’, a’course.”

“No, no, that’s fine... I could recite the words, but I don’t think you would understand them. It seems that song and poetry is far too structured to allow the magic of Harmony to convey the right meaning.” The runemaster sighed, pointedly ignoring the purposefully disinterested shufflings of his old friends. “The original song was a duet, written like a series of messages sent via travelers to an important event known as the Scarborough Faire, one that is held to this day, I think. Anyway, the two people who sent the messages were estranged lovers who set out a list of impossible-to-attain criteria that would allow the other to get back into their good graces and thus become a true love again. The commentary is intriguing to me because it seems like the original author was trying to illustrate that love won’t work if it’s based on material things.” The wizard started getting into the swing of his impromptu lecture, sitting up straighter and engaging Applejack fully. “I’ve always liked the tune, especially a version done by a famous duo of our time, but I’ve always thought that the song was too hopeless and melancholy for being so beautiful. So I made new lyrics for it, keeping to the same structure but changing the mood. I wanted it to be brighter, more hopeful.”

Clearly, Laich was building up steam and getting ready to roll for quite a while. Rets fortunately saw the impending rant and unceremoniously threw a wrench into the red unicorn’s wheels. “We have two new leads in the case now.”

The runemaster’s eyes jerked to his tan friend, mouth open and words crashing into each other in a spectacular pileup that could only be achieved by the successful derailing of a train of thought at full speed.

“Oh,” he said.

Rets grinned inwardly at his perfect timing, smoothly rising above the rubble and carnage of Laich’s unfinished lecture on medieval song. “Turns out that waiter had some dirty dishes he was trying to hide under the table.”

Applejack gave the tan unicorn a reproachful look, motioning with her hooves like she wanted him to slow down.

Rets, for all his powers of deduction and observation missed out on the farm filly’s suggestion. “He had some tasty leftovers and tantalizing tidbits about the Director of the Metallurgist Guild Bank and her connection with the Mayor. It seems to me that all this stuff, the petty crimes, the weird vandalization and the Oranges’ ponynapping have their head somewhere in the upper echelons of Manehattan high society,” he said with a smug grin.

The runemaster furrowed his brow, studying his desk and shuffling a few papers around. A quill, inkwell, and fresh parchment floated to the center of the desk. Words and symbols started to scritch their way out of the quill. Laich muttered to himself as the quill flew across the page, to the inkwell and back to the page.

Pissfer joined the other ponies at the desk as Rets deflated from his speech, to watch the runemaster curiously. The page he was writing on soon became soggy with lines and words.

The quill suddenly flew back to the inkwell, spinning from the force of its flight. A small canvas bag seemingly appeared from thin air, rattling with the many hardwood tiles inside. A cloud of red magic accumulated over the paper then pressed itself into the limp fibers. The canvas bag upended over the page as soon as the magic dissipated, spilling forty-eight polished tiles onto the page. On each one, a deep carving of one rune occupied both sides. On one side, the carving was filled in with a pearlescent enamel and on the other, a blood red resin. Not a sound could be heard except the clacking of the tiles as they fell and finally settled on the page. Everypony in the room unconsciously leaned toward the desk, inspecting the spread of tiles. Of course, only one of them knew what any of it meant.

“Interesting,” breathed the wizard.

That one word seemed to break the spell the ponies had fallen under.

“What... did you do?” Applejack took her hat from her head, looking sidelong at the pile of tiles.

“I threw tiles,” the red unicorn replied simply.

Pissfer snorted. “I think it would help if you explained why the tiles help us, Laich.”

“Oh, right. Well, I drew a simple diagram on the page, assigned each one of our “suspects” an alias and detailed some of the things we wanted to know about them here,” he gestured with a hoof to the outside of the subdivided circle where several lines of runes branched off of symbols tucked into each corner of the page.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rets interrupted, almost crossing his eyes and dotting his T’s. “How the bloody ‘ell do you know what their aliases are, let alone who all the suspects are?”

Laich set a level and long-suffering look on his friend. “In this context an alias is just a runic indicator. And I’ve been paying attention, despite what you seem to think.”

Rets very nearly spoiled every ounce of his professional decorum by sticking his tongue out at the wizard.

The red unicorn ignored it, thus saving some decorum for later. “It sounded like we had enough of them to narrow down what the crimes were for, like, why anypony would do them.” He tapped his chin, squinting at the tiles. “But now, I’m not too sure. This is very chaotic, and it doesn’t tell me much besides the fact that there is still a big piece missing. But, I think Rets is right. All of these ponies are involved somehow and these events are definitely linked...” He touched one of the tiles that strayed from the page lightly with a hoof. The hoof jerked back from the tile as if burned. The runemaster’s head snapped up, icy blue eyes shooting an intense look at Rets

He jerked back from the other unicorn reflexively. “What?” The detective cleared his throat from the squeak. “Ah, I mean... What?”

“Something important is going to happen and soon, maybe two days from now. If we’re there when this thing happens, we’ll find the last piece,” Laich said quietly.

“Man,” Rets breathed, “you can’t do that to me, nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Hm,” mused a quiet Pissfer, “well, I suppose there was a reason why these caught my eye.” Two bright yellow slips of paper unfolded into existence in front of the blue unicorn.

“Hey,” Rets spat, narrowing his eyes. “Did you filch those from the crime scene?!”

“What if I did?”

The detective spluttered but ultimately gave up on turning over a rebuttal.

“Well, I didn’t.” Pissfer smiled at Rets’ deflating rage. “I picked them up after that pegasus jumped the window. They fell out of his cloak and looked rather important, so I went ahead and pocketed them.” His smile turned into a more sheepish rendition. “Though, I have to admit, I forgot I had them until now.”

Shining golden in the afternoon light, the slips of paper floated to the tiles, resting gently on their dark faces. In large, bold, High Equestrian script, the papers declared themselves admittance to “THE EIGHTH ANNUAL CHARITABLE MASQUERADE BALL” hosted on the newly constructed airship The Red Herring. “Admit one and guest,” Laich read aloud. “Well,” he said, bemused, “that worked out nicely, didn’t it?”

Comments ( 12 )

IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT I SWEAR

This took waaaaaaaaaaay too long. And it might have been my fault, then again, this might have been up sooner if somepony didn't have writer's block for a month...

yeah it was mostly my fault:twilightsheepish:

"What's that Fred, you know who did it? Well who?"

"Fred, it's physically impossible for Red Herring to have done it. He's three dimensions and two-thousand kilometers away."

What I thought when I saw the chapter title.

Convenient tickets are convenient.

2609100
Perhaps too convenient...

*Alondro gets confused... * So, the tickets are guilty of the kidnapping, and have been hiding in his pocket the whole time! What? No? Oh. *And so he does what he usually does when confused: Blow up the planet and go somewhere simpler.*

:pinkiecrazy::pinkiecrazy::pinkiecrazy::pinkiecrazy:

2576768

hmm, i didn't realize that there was such a thing as a seven month writers block:trollestia:


also there is more to making a stereotypical heavy german accent than replacing all the T's with Z's, i am disappointed in you:ajsleepy:

3549151

my point still stands:coolphoto:

Oh there is I'v had writers block for long time.

Too bad this story is long dead. I loved the first part after finally finishing it.

Login or register to comment