Freeze Frame

by ToixStory

Episode 3: Blättere um

The pavilion was loud. Louder now, it seemed, since we had been inside, though I did not know if that was simply a byproduct of visiting a quieter, enclosed space or if more ponies had shown up. Probably both.

Anyway, Ivory led us out of the Recreational Tent and back out to the main body of the festival. Or rather, bodies. We were hemmed on every side by ponies coming and going; some of them the softer-faced Fillydelphia natives, and some of them the hard-jawed visitors from Germaneigh. Even without the faces, it wasn’t hard to tell them apart. Fillydelphians strutted about in their coats with pastel colors, while the coats and manes of the Germanes were muted in hue, and reflected in the clothing they wore, which was heavier than the usual Equestrian fare.

“Her first time at one of these, right?” I overheard Ivory ask Grapevine, a few feet in front of me.

Grapevine snorted. “How should I know--does it look like I keep up with her?”

“I suppose ‘yes’ would be a bad answer in this situation?” Ivory turned to me like I hadn’t been listening in. “You speak like a Germane native, but walk like you’ve never seen even a single flag from the Empire,” he said. “Why?”

Somehow, Ivory managed to stay in front of me and keep pace with Grapevine, even while walking backwards. I shrugged in response to his question. “If you’re going to move to Equestria, what’s the point in celebrating where you came from?”

“You look pretty excited to be here from my perspective.”

“I didn’t say that was my point of view; it was what my parents believed. Being kids, we didn’t exactly get a choice.” Not that it had ever stopped me from trying to sneak over to a hill at the very edge of our farm and watch Derbyshire’s Germane Independence Festival from a distance. Usually, I ended up caught by my father or my more studious older sister, which resulted in “the speech” and double chores for a week. The few times I did see it, however, I never figured why Father was so adamant against the festival--it hadn’t really seemed like anything too special from the other holidays. Now that I was actually inside one, however, I could see why he would have disapproved of our family attending, as patriotic as he was.

“Hey, can we maybe put a halt on the mystery of why Miss Speaks-Two-Languages hasn’t been to one of these before and focus on the reason we’re actually here?” Grapevine said in a huff.

Ivory turned back around. “Of course,” he said. He idly picked at the talons on one of his arms as we walked, somehow managing to move on three limbs. “I assume you’ve already been briefed on Doctor Chemiker, right?”

Grapevine glanced at me. “We were told the basics, and that he’s wanted by the Germanes, but not much else.”

“Good thing details on this guy weren’t hard to find,” Ivory said. “Here in Equestria he isn’t well-known, but he was the poster foal for the Germane Scientific World--and even for Prance, if you can believe it. He was one of those whiz kids too, they call ‘em the wunderkind there. First research grant at just twenty, and he was heading a lab at twenty-four. Then his team was the one that figured out how to synthesize methylene from condensed magic a while back, and everypony started to call him chemistry’s newest up-and-comer.”

“So if he’s so popular, then why’s the Germane government on the lookout for him now?” Grapevine said.

“Was popular,” Ivory said. “The young Wahr was on top of the scientific world, being offered grants from just about every university in the civilized countries--even one from Concealed College here in Equestria.”

“And he turned them down? Why?”

Ivory shrugged. “Nopony knows. He turned down almost every offer that came his way, even the ones that were willing to fund his research at one million zahls--two million bits--a month. Instead, he settled for Professor of Chemistry at the University of Marelin, as Ornate should have told you already. It wasn’t even supposed to be a real postion; it was more of an honorary title that he would hold while working in the lab, but he refused everything but the teaching aspect.”

“Okay, I get how he became a teacher,” Grapevine said, “but how the hay does a teacher end up a fugitive?”

“The information I got was kind of fuzzy on that point. All we know is that he taught for nearly a decade then suddenly-” Ivory snapped his fingers. “Gone. No notice to his students or the faculty. All questions that were asked were rebuked by the government, and for fifteen years nothing more was heard from Doctor Chemiker. That is, until a couple years when suddenly he just reappears again with no explanation, back at his teaching job like nothing ever happened. Everypony pretty much assumed everything was normal--urged on by the government, of course--and for a while it was. That is, until three weeks ago when Internal Security, Innere Sicherheit, bursts into the college demanding to know where the professor was. They didn’t catch him, but a week later you’ve got his wife reporting that she thought she had seen her former husband break into her house. A week after you’ve got officials at the Hayburg Aerodrome reporting that a steamcar was left abandoned in the parking lot, along with items from the good doctor’s house.”

“And that’s where Fillydelphia comes in,” Grapevine said.

“Right. The only airships not checked were those from and bound to Equestria. Protected from search and seizure under Princess Celestia’s authority, of course.”

“Is that why we’re headed to the airfield?”

“So you unicorns do use your eyes after all!”

Grapevine grimaced at Ivory’s remark and told me to hurry up again. I barely heard her. Instead I trailed behind, trying to get things straight in my mind. A pony that turned down money and fame? And for a teaching job? I’d been willing, a week ago, to sacrifice everything to stay in Fillydelphia and make a name for myself, and here was a pony who had earned it with far more ease than I did, and gave it up just as easily.

The more I turned it over in my head, the less sense it made. Such a foreign concept made my head hurt. I eventually had to settle on the fact that some ponies just couldn’t handle their fame, unlike me, of course. While I was congratulating myself for coming up with that conclusion, I ended up moving a little too slow and running into another pony going the opposite way.

Boxes he had been carrying fell onto the grass, spilling worn books across the pavilion. The pony who had been carrying them--a fit stallion just edging out of his twenties and colored some weird mint-green/blue color--fell on his rump beside where I was now laying on the ground with what must have been a dazed look on my face.

“I am very sorry,” he said in Germane with a clipped accent. “I didn’t see you there, and-”

I held up a hoof. “Don’t worry, my fault,” I said. I rubbed my head, then took the hoof he offered and climbed to my feet, surprised at how strong his grip was. Once I was on all fours, I sheepishly looked around at the books lying on the grass. “Sorry about the books though, they look pretty old . . .”

He smiled a little in reassurance and rubbed his head. “It is alright, they have seen far worse--trust me.” Then he bent over and started to carefully pick them up, one by one. I quickly stooped down to help him, using the aid of my wings to gently lift the books and place them back into one of the boxes. While I did, I couldn’t help but look at some of the covers. They were much more intricate than any books I had ever seen--most of their stunningly-detailed covers could have sold as paintings anywhere in Equestria. I could only wonder what stories they contained if they warranted such well-made covers. Far better than I could write, for sure.

When the stallion saw me looking at the books, his smile grew. “Like them?” he said. “They are here for a Germane literature exhibition later this afternoon.” He pointed out a large tent done up in a flat green color. “I’m heading over there right now to set up.”

I nodded in a way I hoped was reassuring. “I’ll be sure to check it out,” I said. Which was mostly true--I wasn’t too interested in the actual stories, but I wouldn’t mind checking out more covers if they were all like the ones he was carrying.

We finished loading the boxes and he bid me a good day before ambling off toward the exhibition tent, his step not even faltering under the weight of the books on his back.

“You done?” Grapevine said.

“What do you care?” I said. “It’s not like you were offering to help.”

“I just didn’t want to interrupt you and your new pal, talking in Germane and all that. You’re all in Equestria--why do you keep speaking it, anyway?”

I stuck out my tongue. “Um dich zu ärgern.”

She huffed and turned back to Ivory, who only rolled his eyes and continued to lead us to the airfield. Not that he really needed to, at that point. The massive forms of blimps and zeppelins resting just inches off the ground were clear to see. In contrast to their citizens, the Germane airships were done up in bright, pronounced colors and designs all over their fuselages. They were all arranged on the grass in a sort of semi-circle with the top of semi-circle facing inward toward the festival. The airships closest to the festival were the smaller balloons and blimps while the real behemoths sat farther out on the edges of the festival, crowds snaking down their ramps and onto the cleared area in the middle of all the airships.

We rapidly became the only individuals making our way toward the landing field, and were forced to moving along the side of the pavilion away from the crowds at the risk of being carried bodily away from our destination.

“Do you even know which airship we’re looking for?” Grapevine said once we had stopped a little bit away from the crowds, in a clear patch of field between the tents of the festival and airships sitting on the pasture. “Or are we just going to have to search all of them? Because with this many ponies, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“I managed to narrow the list down to three,” he said, “two of them dedicated--if shady--shuttles between Equestria and Germaneigh, and the other a cargo hauler.” He ticked them off on one hand. “There’s the shuttles Eagle and Sky Rider, and the other whose name was a bit harder to find. From what I could dig up, it’s called the Halcyon.”

Grapevine and I groaned at the same time.

Ivory looked at us funny. “What? Is it something I said?”

“Let’s just check out the Halcyon first,” I said. “I’ve got a . . . feeling we’ll be lucky there.”

* * *

We carefully made our way across the impromptu airfield and sure enough, Malcolt Reinolds--dressed in his signature duster--was standing outside his airship when we arrived. He was barking orders to someone inside the ship, which I noticed was sitting on the ground with its balloon looking a little deflated.

Ivory cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Captain Reinolds?”

Mal wearily started to turn around. “Look, how many times do I have to tell you guys, our gorram papers are in ord-” His eyes narrowed once Grapevine and I were in view. “Oh, you two. What brings you to the festival?” He nodded to Ivory. “And who’s your friend?”

“You know him?” Ivory said, honestly surprised--I think--that we knew something he didn’t.

Grapevine smiled, enjoying her little victory. “Here on business, naturally,” she said. “We’re working on a new story, and Ivory here is our contact.”

Mal nodded again to Ivory. “A pleasure.” He turned back to Grapevine. “And I don’t assume you just came to say hello, did you?”

Grapevine shook her head. “Word is that you might be able to help us with our story,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Your ship was carrying passengers from Germaneigh. Mind showing us the list?”

Mal held up a hoof. “Woah, woah there missy, I’ve got no list to show. We play by different rules on this ship--no names, and pay only in cash. We don’t know where anypony’s going, and we don’t want to.”

Grapevine looked dumbfounded. “You carry passengers . . . and you have no idea who they are?”

“Some folks would prefer to fly casual,” Mal said. “And we provide that service. Nothing special or unusual. Just business.”

“And it pays pretty good, too,” said Mal’s burly crewmember--Jennet, I remembered--as he walked down the front ramp out of the cargo bay. In one hoof he carried a pile of assorted machine parts, which he dumped unceremoniously on the ground. He turned to Mal. “Hayley says we need new, uh, power couplings if we want to get ‘er up and running again.”

Mal walked over to one of the parts, picked it up, and tossed it back to Jennet. “Tell Hayley to make it work,” he said. “We don’t have the money for more.”

Jennet nodded. “Right, Mal.” He turned and walked back into the ship, his hooves echoing on the metal of an empty cargo bay.

“I told you, Captain!” Mal shouted after him, but if Jennet noticed, he didn’t make any move to correct himself. “Lousy, good for nothin’ . . .” Mal muttered under his breath.

“What happened to your ship?” I said. If I looked hard enough, I could see a few bullet holes pockmarked the aft end of the fuselage.

“We decided to take shortcut that skirted into Prench airspace,” Mal said. “There was some disagreement on that point.”

“And they just shoot at anything that moves?”

“It probably had something to do with us coming from Germaneigh,” Mal said. “I mean, I don’t think I have guys who want to shoot me in Prance . . . for now.”

“But why would where you’re coming from make a difference?”

“Germaneigh and Prance aren’t too happy with each other right now,” Ivory explained. “They’re not at war, but they tend to get testy when one side makes a move--like what your friend did. Probably one of the reasons why the Germane government was so ready to pick up their wayward chemist.”

“Why’s a chemist matter so much to a government anyway?” Grapevine said. “Wouldn’t a soldier or a spy be better? Even an engineer?”

“A laboratory team he led were also the first to synthesize chlorine gas from other, more common, naturally-occurring elements.”

“What’s that got to do with-”

Mal had been quiet the whole time, carefully watching Grapevine and Ivory, and jumped when his pilot--Haygan--leaned out the cockpit window and yelled down: “Hey Mal, come give me a hoof with the steering lines, would ya?”

“In a minute!” Mal shouted back. He turned back and nodded to each of us in kind. “It’s been a pleasure, but I’ve got to go. Good luck finding that Chemiker guy, though. Look forward to reading the next article.”

He started to walk away, but Grapevine galloped ahead of him and planted herself in his path. “We never mentioned the doctor’s name,” she said icily.

“Must have heard it from somewhere,” Mal said, his tone still casual. “Now move, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She didn’t. “Tell us,” she said. “Where is he?” She tried to stare him down, though it was a futile effort given the height difference of almost a foot between them.

It seemed to work, however, because Mal sighed and looked from side to side quickly before leaning in close and whispering in her ear. I wasn’t close enough to hear, but whatever he said must have satisfied her, because she nodded and let him walk onto the ship before rejoining Ivory and I.

“Well?” Ivory said.

“He said that--if he were to guess--the passengers from his ship would probably have gone to that really big striped tent,” Grapevine said, pointing out the location in question.

“What’s in there?” I said.

Ivory sighed. “The freakshow.”

* * *

The only way to describe the freakshow tent was like if a circus had been run by the prize inmates of an insane asylum, but dressed up by some kind of sick, twisted six year-old.

Colorful banners hung from the upper areas of the cavernous tent, advertising the fiends that lay within. The stages the “performers” were displayed on were bright and colorful in a way that made you sick after watching what was done on them. Maybe that was the point, though. Dark and twisted is fine when the mood reflects it, but throw in a little bit of cheer to such a display and its too much for the pony mind to handle.

Or at least, for me to handle, as I soon found myself trying to fight my way back out into the open air, bent over and clutching my stomach in an effort to keep my insides on my inside. I think it was the two-headed unicorn that did it for me. Not necessarily because of the two heads--that would have been really cool. But because the second head was a twisted, deformed thing that stared off into space, uncomprehending . . . that was just too much.

I must have started to run, because Ivory practically tackled me to the ground back at the main entrance. “They’re not real!” he kept yelling into my ear until I had calmed down enough to hear him properly.

“What?” I said.

“They’re not real,” he repeated in a normal voice. “Look at them: they’re all unicorns. This is really just a magic show; they deform themselves on purpose.”

“S- So they’re fake?” I said slowly, my erratic heartbeat starting to calm to its usual rate--though far faster than a unicorn or earth pony’s, me being a Pegasus and all.

Ivory nodded and helped me shakily to my feet. Grapevine bounded over, munching popcorn from a paper bag that she purchased sometime during my ordeal. “Geez, these aren’t even very good,” she said, directed at me though her eyes refused to look my way. “Don’t know what this has to do with Germane independence, though.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Ivory said, “but it’s cheap entertainment for the ponies that just want to be somewhere else on their day off.” He looked back at me with what I hoped was worry on his face, though it was hard to tell with the beak. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. I kept my eyes locked to the ground, though--just in case. “Let’s just find the passengers and get out of here.”

Grapevine tossed another hooful of popcorn into her mouth. “How are we going to do that, anyway?”

“We got to the only place your friend’s passengers would be in a place like this,” Ivory said. “The casino.”

Sure enough, in the far part of the tent--after you passed through the gamut of freak shows--were casino tables laid out underneath some high-flying trapeze act. A net was suspended just a few feet over the gamblers’ heads, but they didn’t seem to notice. Instead, they rolled their dice and hid their cards just like they were in Las Pegasus. To them, the Germane festival might as well have been celebrating Prench independence or anything else for that matter--it was just an excuse to gamble for them.

Ivory led us to a corner where the tables were dirtier and the air filled with cigarette smoke. The ponies there had the rough look of Germane factory workers, and didn’t look up until we were in the middle of all of them.

“What do you want?” one of the more brutish ones said, sticking his face close to Ivory’s. I guessed him to be their sort of leader, being that his graying mane made him the obvious elder of the group.

“We’re here for information,” Grapevine said, taking to Ivory’s side.

“Is that so?” the brute asked. “Well, we’re not giving it.”

Grapevine opened her mouth to say something very cross, but took a breath and calmed down a bit before speaking. “We just want to ask the ponies who rode over on the Halcyon a few questions.”

Before the brute could answer to the negative, a lanky pony at a craps table spoke up: “Oh yeah, what about?”

Glad to see she was getting somewhere, Grapevine answered, “We wanted to know if anypony had information on Wahr Chemiker.”

For as noisy as the casino area had been, the entire crowd grew silent as their stares locked on us. The pony who had asked quickly looked away, like he was embarrassed to be involved with us. The brute leaned close to Grapevine. “Get out,” he said in an icy voice. “And do not come back.”

He stepped forward, causing Grapevine to back away from the casino area, along with Ivory and I. I could tell it pained Grapevine to walk away, but she did so reluctantly as the beginning of a ring of spectators began to form around us.

Before we could get out, however, the ring closed and locked us in. And at the head of the ring was the pony who’d been harassing Ivory earlier in the bar. A sneer decorated his face.

“You dare come to us and mention Him?” he said. “Talk of him where prying ears can hear? The three of you do not even deserve to speak his name!”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to-” I started, but Grapevine cut me off.

“And all of you are protecting him?” she said, the anger rising in her voice. “What’s he done that’s so special?”

The crowd had begun to press in closer to us while Ivory tried to keep them back as politely as he could. “Not so tough now, are you?” somepony shouted at him, and shoved him closer to us until the ring of ponies around us was less than a foot away.

“Herr Chemiker is a hero to us all,” the pony answered Grapevine. “Unlike you, who write lies about Frau Pullmare only to weaken your country’s trust in her.” He poked one hoof in her chest. “It is because of you that the company has had to lay so many of us off.”

Grapevine shoved his hoof away. “Watch it,” she growled. “Everything in that article was one hundred percent fact, and if you can’t accept that then I’d suggest go bury your head back in your precious doctor’s ass.”

“Why, you-” the pony said, raising his hoof to strike.

Now, I don’t know if he missed or at the last second I un-consciously decided to step in front of Grapevine in some misguided attempt at heroism, but his hoof struck me squarely across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground in a confused daze.

The world swam in front of my eyes, though I could hear a collective intake of breath from the crowd as the stallion who had struck stood still, the hoof that dealt the blow still hanging in the air. I tried to stand back up, but the legs didn’t respond properly, so I remained where I was. Gee, that didn’t seem familiar.

Suddenly, the stallion who had hit me was thrown across the tent through the air on a burst of purple magic, finally coming to a bumpy stop on a stage that held the same two-headed pony from earlier. The crowd stared at Grapevine, whose horn was still smoking and a look of fiery anger on her face.

“Any of you fucking pigs move, and I’ll blast every motherfucking one of ya!” she shouted, her eyes just daring all of them at once to come at her. None did. “Pick her up,” she ordered Ivory in a suddenly ice-cold voice. “We’re taking her to the medical tent.”

I felt myself being lifted off the ground by gentle arms, and started to bounce as we moved out of the tent and back toward the main body of the festival.

* * *

“You know, if you keep getting hurt like this, we’re just going to get used to it,” Grapevine said, apparently back to her usual self. I was sitting on a clean cot in the white medical tent, off on the other side of the pavilion from the freakshow. I passed out on the trip over, and didn’t come to for almost an hour. Now, Grapevine stood on the ground at my side, leaning with one hoof on the metal railing at the head of the bed. “I mean, you could have just let me take it; I’m a big mare, after all.”

I smiled. “I could have, but then I would have missed you defending me. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Defending you? Yeah right . . .” Grapevine said. She snorted. “I was just trying to save my own flank; it’s not like Mister Dagger-Talons over here was doing anything to help.”

Ivory looked up from his perch at the other end of the cot, watching for my nurse to come back. “I had the situation under control,” he said evenly.

Grapevine rolled her eyes. “Right.”

The cream-coated nurse finally returned to my bedside, her starched uniform so tight around her waist I imagined her soprano tone was due to it squeezing the air from her lungs. “Alright, the tests came back and you’re going to be fine, Miss Flower,” she said.

“Will I be able to leave soon?” I said.

She smiled. “In about half an hour, you’ll be all set to leave. No further medication required.”

“Then why wait so long? We’re in a hurry here.”

“The wait is only a necessary precaution,” she said. “We just have to make sure no complications come up before you leave.”

I sighed and muttered my compliance, which was apparently enough for her as she whisked off to the next cot over, ready to deliver a new batch of bad news in the most cheerful way possible.

“Are you going to be alright?” Ivory asked.

“Pretty sure,” I said. “Why?”

He looked guilty, so Grapevine responded for him. “While you were out, Ivory and I talked about what to do next. We’re thinking of checking out the science pavilions to look for some of Chemiker’s colleagues.” She paused and waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, she continued, “And, well, the exhibition closes soon, and you won’t get out of here for half an hour . . .”

I tried not to look too disappointed. “I get it; you guys go ahead and go. I’ll catch up when I get out of this place.”

“Are you sure?” Ivory said.

I nodded and the two of them bade their goodbyes and filed out of the tent, leaving me by myself at my cot. I shook my head and blew a few stray strands of hair out of my face. Half an hour was going to suck in this place.

I figured I would just lay back and try to rest, but the place was too loud for that, unless you were unconscious for a reason. So instead I settled for watching the nurses and orderlies go about their business, and occasionally the few doctors--I tried to not see Rainbow Remedy’s face on any of them.

What stunned me the most while I watched is how orderly the medical tent was. On first glance, the place seemed to be a ball of barely-regulated chaos that was ready to come apart at the seams. On closer inspection, though, the staff ran a tight ship and kept everything in perfect rhythm. For some reason I found this mesmerizing to watch. Maybe it was the fact that my life had been so out of order that my mind naturally gravitated toward something that was, or maybe I was just bored.

Either way, the half hour passed--I made sure to look at the small clock on one wall of the tent every five seconds or so--and I walked over to one of the orderlies who was checking everypony out of the tent.

“Name,” he said in a drab monotone.

“Minty Flower,” I said. “I was told I could check out now.”

“Right, sure you were.” He scanned a list pinned to a clipboard until his eyes stopped on what was presumably my name. “Flower, Minty?” he said. I nodded. “It looks like you’re good to go; I’ll just need a second signature and you’ll be on your way.”

I paused. “A second signature? Like from the doctor?”

He shook his head. “Cases of head trauma have to be checked out by a close friend or relative; we can’t just let you wander around unsupervised.”

“But the nurse said-”

“It doesn’t matter what the nurse said; rules are rules.”

Inwardly, I groaned. Ivory and Grapevine would eventually come looking for me, but probably not for a few hours at best. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” I said. The orderly just shook his head sadly.

One tent flap was open to the outside, and passing ponies could occasionally sneak a glance inside the medical tent--if they wanted to, that is. But that must have been how he saw me and heard what was happening, passing by on some other business but deciding to help a stranger who had shown him kindness. Because just as I was about to dejectedly go and lay back down on my cot, a voice spoke up.

“Sister, is that you? Ah, there you are--I’ve been looking all over for you!” The pony whose books I’d spilled earlier ambled into the tent. He had put on a suit sometime since then, which fit his muscular frame nicely and matched his salty white mane.

The orderly wasn’t impressed. He turned to me. “This guy’s your brother, huh?”

I made the split-second decision to trust the guy--figuring a bookworm like him was probably harmless--and nodded eagerly. “Of course,” I said.

My “brother” nodded eagerly. “Minz here--Minty in your language--was with her friends, and they told me where to find her.” He turned to me and pretended to act like I was getting a scolding. “Just wait until father hears about this!”

I pretended to act scared, and the orderly apparently bought it. Or he wasn’t getting paid enough to care--it could have been either, really. At any rate, he let me and my “brother” sign my release paper and walk out the tent.

Once we were a safe distance away, I let out a breath I’d been holding. “Thanks for that,” I said. “I was really in trouble.”

He smiled. “Don’t mention it; always happy to help.”

I paused. “So, uh, how did you know my name--especially the Germane version?”

“I must profess I knew it since we bumped into each other earlier,” he said. “Your picture, along with your partner’s, was widely circulated back home--and I made the simple translation to Germane and hoped it would work.”

“Well, you guessed well,” I said, switching to Germane, which seemed to please him.

“Ah, so you do speak it,” he said. “I had heard rumors that you could--and even some that you talked to the Princess in the same language!”

I laughed and then toed the ground awkwardly. “So . . . anyway, thanks for helping me out and all, but I have to get going. My friends are over at the science pavilions, and I need to find them.”

I started to walk away, but he stopped me. “You know,” he said, “by the time you reach the pavilions, the science exhibitions will be over and you’ll just have to make your way back here. If you wish, you could wait with me while I set up the book stands.”

I paused. My options were to either to willingly go look for Grapevine and follow her around or hang out with a guy I had never met who knew a lot about old books.

“Lead the way,” I said, “Mr.-”

“Licht,” he said. “Helles Licht.” He offered up his hoof, and I shook hooves with Mr. Bright Light for the second time that day.

We set out toward the side of the festival that was less populated, as most of the stands were still being set up. “Some of the tents have been dealing with overcrowding issues,” he explained, “so we are setting up the literature exhibition on the grass in the open air.”

“Aren’t you worried that will hurt them?” I said.

“As I said before, these books have been through much more than any of us.”

“Ah, right.” There was a little pause as the conversation tapered off. Not that I minded--there was plenty to look at. This end of the pavilion was evidently the more sophisticated, and even the food stands had a little bit of class.

“So I have been told that this is your first time visiting a Germane Independence Festival,” he said, noticing my hungering gaze at the food stands.

“Who, uh, told you that?” I said.

“I have it on good authority from a rather large gentlecolt who seemed to be very excited to have personally met the famous photographer from the Fillydelphia Chronicler.”

I groaned. Of course Big News would have a Big Mouth. “Yes, well, it’s true,” I said.

“And I suppose you haven’t had a chance to try any of the native Germane cuisine?” The expression on my face must have been enough, because he shook his head sadly and said, “No, no, this will not do.”

He showed me over to a food stand with pots and steaming pans filled with food arranged around a few small tables. Bright ordered for both of us. “Spargel. Zwei,” he told the pony working the stand.

The pony came back with two bowls of steaming asparagus topped with some sort of sauce and mashed potatoes. I took mine and held it with my wing-finger-things while Bright balanced his easily on the end of one hoof, and was even steady enough to slide my chair out for me at a table near the stand. We sat down and began to eat.

When Bright saw me practically inhaling the food after the first couple of bites--the best I’d had besides Marshmallow’s cooking--he seemed to grow happier. “You like?” he said.

I nodded hurriedly, my mouth still full. I swallowed and said, “This is amazing. I only wish mother had made stuff like this . . .” I took a deep breath and dug in again.

Bright, meanwhile simply picked at his food. Eventually, he spoke. “So tell me, Minze, what’s it like being a pony who willingly dines with a stranger she’s just met?”

I shrugged. “I ate a meal with Miss Pullmare, and Princess Celestia at the same time,” I said. “It’s hard for anything else to live up to that.”

He smiled. “Indeed. And I apologize that I am but a simple bookkeeper, and thus have lesser abilities to entertain you than those two.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” I said. “I’ve never really talked to anypony about books before, so that could be pretty interesting. What kind of books do you look after?”

“Mostly ones from one of Germaneigh’s golden ages of literature back in the middle high ages, or mittelhochdeutsche Blütezeit. That was back, oh, six hundred years ago.”

“But wasn’t Germaneigh part of Equestria back then? How can you have a golden age when you weren’t a country yet?”

He laughed. “Germaneigh, since the first settlers arrived and started clearing the Black Woods, was its country in everything but official documents. Celestia rarely visited, and the Equestrian officials kept themselves locked up in their castles, leaving the countryside to us. Even the Prench went through much of the same.”

“Well, that’s cool,” I said. “So what kind of books came out all that time ago?”

“Not books, exactly,” he said. “Poems. Minnesang, it was called. They were love poems that were sung in the courts. The Equestrians didn’t care for it too much, but the lower officials and princes loved it.”

“So you have music . . . in book form?” I said.

“Pretty much, yes.”

That was a new one. At least it wouldn’t be as hard to read as the other old literature they had taught us in school, probably. If I ever had to read The Lone Queen again, I think I would die of boredom. Plus the cool pictures on the front would be a bonus.

We finished eating right as more ponies started to trickle in our direction from the rest of the festival. Most of the stands had finished setting up and, according to Bright, the literature exhibition would be starting soon.

“I have to finish setting up,” he said, “but I look forward to seeing you and your friends there.”

I assured him I would be there and watched him trot off, again amazed at how quickly he moved for a self-professed bookworm. With nothing else to do, I idly watched the passersby and regretted letting Bright throw away his unfinished meal without at least getting a bite of it.

Before long, sure enough, Grapevine showed up with Ivory in tow, cutting through the crowd like it wasn’t even there. “Finally we find you,” she said in a huff. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Ivory even made me go back to that stupid clinic.”

“That was your idea-” Ivory said, but she shushed him.

“What are you doing over here anyway?” Grapevine said.

“Met a new friend,” I said. “He helped me get out the clinic and even bought me a meal for the trouble. He’s over at the literature expo right now, setting up.”

“I thought you already had a coltfriend,” she said. I glared at her, but she just smirked. “But it doesn’t matter anyway--the science pavilions were all dead ends. Whenever we even mentioned Chemiker’s name, they reacted the same as those idiots at the freakshow tent.”

“It may have also involved Grapevine’s vulgarity and threats for information,” Ivory said, upset about being cut off earlier. “So we figured we would find you and come here; this expo is the last of the day, anyway. I figured I’d try to get into contact with a few ponies I know over here and see if they’ve got anything.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Grapevine said.

Ivory shrugged. “I don’t know . . . your job? Aren’t you reporters supposed to, like, mingle? I mean, Ornate hired me to get all the information, not you.”

Grapevine rolled her eyes. “Alright, just meet back up with us when you’re done. We’ll see if we can’t find this guy before the festival closes.” Ivory nodded and went on his way. “And it’s back to just us,” Grapevine said. “Joy.”

“You have a problem with me?” I snapped.

“Of course not,” she said in her most innocent voice. “You haven’t done anything to give me one, have you?”

So that was how she was going to play the game. Well, I decided I wasn’t going to take part. Let her be mad; it wasn’t my problem. “Come on, there’s somepony I want you to meet,” I said.

I trotted off toward the stands set up on the grass, and didn’t look back to see if she was following me. Sure enough, though, I could hear her hoofsteps right behind me after a few seconds. After walking around it for a little bit, I realized I liked the literature expo being on the grass much more than some stuffy old tent. A cool breeze had picked up--a welcome relief to the sun that still shown hot on the whole festival--and a stringed band played some old Germane song off to one side.

Most of the stalls, as opposed to the ones lining the main areas of the festival, were neat and orderly, and were run by older ponies with graying manes and drooping mustaches. Books of all kinds were on display, some colorful and thin, and some drab and thick. There were also scrolls, tapestries, and sheet music set out as well.

It wasn’t difficult finding Bright’s stand, seeing as it was actually in the middle of the fairgrounds. There was a small crowd gathered around one of the displays, and they were chattering excitedly. I tried to crane my neck to see, but to no avail. The Germane colts could be tall.

However, Bright, at the head of the crowd, managed to stick his head over the chattering stallions and called out, “Ah, Minze! Very good to see you!” The crowd looked at him, then focused on me. They parted and allowed Grapevine and I to make our way to the front, my face beginning to flush red from the sudden attention.

We stood at the front, and Bright greeted us warmly. “Glad to see you made your way here, Frau Blume,” he said. “And I see you brought the famous Weinrebe.”

“The who?” Grapevine said.

“That’s your name,” I whispered.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled for him and nodded politely. “Nice to meet you-”

“Bright Light,” I hissed.

“Fright Night,” she finished.

Bright looked at her strange, but made nothing of it while I fought the urge to bring my hoof to my face. Instead, he shook his head and pointed to the display stand that the entire crowd was watching. “Sorry about the crowd,” he said. “I finally managed to find my old copy of Ship of Fools.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“An old book of woodcuts and satire.”

“So like a really ancient joke book?” Grapevine said, unimpressed.

“Exactly.”

Awkward silence. “Well, this is really interesting,” Grapevine said, “but we have a job we really need to get back to.”

“Oh, a job?” Bright said. “Minze did not tell me of such a thing. Perhaps I could help?”

Grapevine sighed. “Not unless you can tell us the whereabouts of a Germane fugitive.”

Bright’s eyes narrowed, and for a second I thought he would react like the ponies from the freakshow. Instead, he said, “Yes, I know of Doctor Chemiker. The traitor. I was told that he would be here at the fair, but I have not seen him. Trust me, if I had, he would no longer be hiding.” When he spoke, his nostrils flared a bit and the muscles across his back flexed.

It scared me a little, but only gave Grapevine more encouragement. “So would you be willing to help us then? Maybe give us any leads you can think of?”

Bright stared off into space for a second before answering. “It’s not much,” he said. “But I believe that I saw a Germane reporter snooping around today, asking about the doctor. Not in the way you are, though, but in the way a young colt looks for his lost puppy.”

“Let me guess, he gave his name as Big News?” I said.

He nodded. Of course.

“Any chance you know where this guy is?” Grapevine said.

Bright looked around, then pointed off to one of the farther, more obscure stands. “Isn’t that him right there?”

I looked and sure enough, the portly reporter was talking to a small group of ponies. “Yeah, I see him,” I said.

Grapevine took one look and galloped off in Big’s direction, while I hurriedly thanked Bright and promised to come back around once our story was done. I caught up to Grapevine just as we arrived at the stand.

There, I realized that Big wasn’t talking to any ordinary ponies. There were two stallions and a mare, all dressed in the dark blue of police uniforms. Worse, I hadn’t seen him before, but Ivory was with them with ill-fitting hoofcuffs around his front claws.

Before we could back out, though, the mare took a step toward us. “Grapevine Lulamoon and Minty Flower?” she said. We didn’t say anything, but I don’t think it was really a question. Before she said more, the two stallions took up positions behind us after hoofcuffing Big, and readied two more pairs for us. “Some gentlecolts from Germaneigh would like a word with the two of you.”

Comments

[Critic]

I hope Episode 4 will have a title name that is not in German

[CvBrony]

I'm loving this story so far. Great work, especially the world building!

[Rust]

Looks like they've just been...booked.

Get it? Cuz there were books earlier and I'll show myself out now.

[PhotoMontage]

I'm going to go crazy waiting for the next chapter.

[djthomp]

I'm wondering if we are building up towards some sort of unpleasantness between Germaneigh and Prance, somehow connected to this missing chemist?

Also, Lulamoon? Did I miss Grapevine being related to Trixie?

[vince-of-the-dead]

taken against their will ...again seems like nothing ever goes as they planned.

I like how you menage to create so many mysterious, strong and interesting character along the story, it's giving the reader the desire to know more about them. keep the great writting

[Critic]

996173Now, dear children, pay attention
I am the voice from the pillow
I have brought you something
've ripped it off my chest

With this heart I have the power
to blackmail the eyelids
I sing until the day awakes
A bright light in the sky
My heart is burning

For those who were too lazy to Google Translate it themselves dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Sweetie_Belle_lolface.png

I'm guessing it is either a poem or a song dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Queen_Chrysalis.png

[Critic]

996224 So it's a song about heartburn ?dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Fluttershy_umad.png I kid, but great song dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Bonbon_grin.png I haven't head many German bands to tell you the truth, and the song is something new to me dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Vinyl_[img]http://dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Octavia_O_O.png

Here is a link to a live performance for those who wish to hear it dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Vinyl_Scratch_lolface.png

[Neighvana]

A chemist who turns down the offers of fame and fortune only to become a chemistry teacher and then proceeded to disappear on some mysterious business? I'm feeling an extremely familiar chain of events One that involves violence Things just keep getting more and more sinister, and I like it!

[Critic]

img28.imageshack.us/img28/2220/yuriisweird.gif

[Nyn77]

Oh, I need to read this later, again. When I've learned a bit German on ze school.

[LittleSallyDigby]

Damn. You described that freakshow well enough to make me want to get out of there.

And for the second time in this story you demonstrate your ability in crafting a mystery. I personally have lots of trouble with this; I prefer to write things in their logical order. You, on the other hand, seem much better at showing the reader the effects of a phenomenon long before you explain what it is, and that is definitely a useful skill.

[PaulAsaran]

Protected from search and seizure under Princess Celestia’s authority, of course.

Celestia, you've done it again. I swear, the incompetence never ends no matter what fic I read.

Is it at all possible for Minty to go on an investigation without getting seriously injured? The poor pony is like a pain magnet, I swear.

I have some suspicions about Mr. Licht. Maybe I'm just paranoid.