> The Murder of Starswirl the Bearded
>  by Inky Scrolls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What a beautiful day!"

I smiled contentedly, basking in the early autumn sun. Along with my mentor, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I was strolling gently along the Rue de Chamelôt towards the Château de Corrigéville, where we were expected for tea. There was one further member of our party - Twilight's idol, Starswirl the Bearded, with whom she was deep in conversation.

Perhaps I should explain.


* * *


A few months ago, Twilight had been teaching me more of the magic of friendship in our usual Tuesday morning lesson. It was a hot, humid day in Ponyville, with the pegasi holding back the rains till after the upcoming harvest. I had felt sticky and uncomfortable, and unable to concentrate. All I could think about was the end of the lesson, when I would be able to fetch a glass of cold water from the kitchen. I could tell Twilight was finding the going hard too; why she insisted we have the lesson in a south-facing chamber is beyond me. Finally, just before eleven o'clock, the princess uttered those magic words:

"Well, I think we're done here, Starlight. D'you want a drink of something cold?"

I nodded in approval. "Yes please, Twilight, that would be lovely. It's so hot today!"

We trotted down to the kitchen. The cool of the flagstones in the windowless hallway felt incredibly pleasant after the thick carpet in our classroom - ideal in winter, but most uncomfortable in the high days of summer. As we headed along the shady corridor, I noticed Twilight seemed rather lost in thought. She wasn't making her usual comment about how many Tuesdays there were left until we finished the lessons for Hearthswarming, or even noticing the slightly ajar door to the study as we passed by. She is usually so meticulous about such things, unable to bear doors being open when they should be shut, or a curtain out of place, or her regular routine being changed. But today she said nothing until we had fetched two refreshing glasses of water, and were sitting at the kitchen table to drink.

She frowned slightly before breaking the silence. It was so quiet, down in the servants' quarters beyond the thick walls of the rest of the castle, that I could even hear swifts calling to one another as they wheeled overhead. Eventually she spoke. "Starlight, I have a proposition for you."

This sounded most intriguing, so I said nothing but inclined my head slightly to indicate I was listening. She went on, "You know, of course, of Starswirl the Bearded, and of his time spells."

This brought back rather unpleasant memories of a, thankfully now distant, darker period in my life, and I couldn't help but feel some trepidation as to what she might say next. "Well," she said, evidently choosing her words carefully, "Starswirl is, by my reckoning, the most powerful and important wizard to have ever lived, and his life and times have always been of immense fascination to me. And I've often wondered, especially since you showed me what could be done with time spells, what it would be like if we could... well, visit him."

This was not at all what I had been expecting - though to honest, I hadn't really had any idea what she'd been going to say. Rather lost for words, I merely blinked uncomprehendingly. "B-b-but," I stammered, "I thought you told me that using magic to travel backwards through time was very dangerous, both for the past and for the present?"

The princess had the grace to blush slightly. "Well, yes, I suppose I did say that. But what I'm thinking of doing isn't so much to change the past, like you did..." - Here I grimaced - I'd been wondering how long it would be before she brought that little fiasco up - "...but rather merely to experience the past, to observe but not interfere, if you know what I mean."

I couldn't help but feel sceptical. "Doesn't that sound rather... impossible? How can you travel through time, interact with the ponies in the distant past, and not expect anything to change as a result? You've seen what can go wrong when that happens, Twilight. You've seen the horror that I- that can be caused by somepony meddling with things she doesn't fully understand. Would it really be worth the risk?"

Twilight stared into her glass for a long moment, evidently considering my point of view. "Well," she murmured, "there is one important difference."

"And what's that?"

"When you went back to the past to change my and my friends' destinies, that's exactly what you were doing. You were trying to interfere, to change things in the future. You didn't know how far things would go wrong, or how dangerous your actions truly were, but you did know you would change the future. You did so deliberately." She must have looked up and seen my sorrowful expression at this point, because she hastily went on. "Of course, you realised what you were doing, and stopped before it was too late. You've nothing to blame yourself for. But that's not my point - my point is that you only changed the future, or the present, or whatever, because you wanted to. If we went back in time to visit Starswirl, we would do so with the knowledge of how careful we must be. We wouldn't be likely to make such a terrible mistake. And if we did... then we can just travel in time to now, to this conversation, and stop ourselves from going."

This was all starting to sound rather complicated, and I was on the verge of pointing out that if we did come back to the present to warn ourselves not to go, we wouldn't go, and thus wouldn't warn ourselves, meaning we'd go, but decided there was no reason to. Twilight had evidently been considering this for a long time, and wouldn't be easily dissuaded. Besides, she was the princess, she was the one who'd been Princess Celestia's personal student, it was she who was the bearer of the Element of Magic... surely she'd know best. "Very well," I said. "Let's do it."

Twilight clopped her hooves together in foalish glee.


* * *


We formulated our plans carefully. After some weeks of intense research, and consultations with Princesses Celestia, Luna and Cadance, Twilight decided that we would go back to the year when Starswirl dropped out of the historical record, roughly two thousand years ago. She had two reasons for this; firstly, his disappearance shortly after our arrival would give us little chance to interfere with the work he did during his lifetime and, secondly, we may actually be able to discover what happened to him. The disappearance of one of pony-kind's greatest magic-wielders has perplexed generations of historians, and Twilight was hopeful that we may be able to discover why.

It was the morning of the last day of August that we made our final preparations. Twilight insisted that she couldn't use her real name, as that could cause confusion for historians of our present, and instead took the name Clover de Velours. She decided that whilst it would be safe for me to retain the name Starlight Glimmer, because - as she murmured blushingly - I wasn't sufficiently well-known enough to have appeared in either historical or contemporary textbooks, it would appear odd at the time for unicorns to carry names which were, after all, of Old Earthponese origin; thus I became Lumière Lueur, protégé of Clover.

Twilight also decided to refrain from all flight, and to travel everywhere wearing a long, flowing cloak, to hide her alicornhood. Despite the Alicorn Kingdom still being in existence at the time to which we were travelling, she was afraid that most ponies we would likely encounter would consider having both wings and a horn unnatural, and possibly see us as a threat. And as alicorn-burnings were not unheard of in the darker days of pre-Equestrian history, this was best to be avoided.

With one last farewell to Spike and our other friends, and a promise, on Spike's insistence, that we be back within a few seconds, Princess Twilight - or Velvet, as I was now to call her - cast an almost identical spell to the one I had used in my own forays into travel through time. With an incredibly bright flash, and a sense of watching the world passing by backwards in slow motion, we left our own time, place, and history, and journeyed possibly further than any other pony ever had: one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-seven years exactly, without ever walking a step.

I have not the time now (if you will pardon the pun) to go through everything that happened whilst we were in the past. Suffice it to say that we arrived safely, and discovered Starswirl the Bearded as we expected to in his now-vanished tower within what today is the Everfree Forest. After a certain degree of not unreasonable doubt, we were able to convince him of who we were, and that we were visiting him purely out of a personal desire to do so, and not because we wished to steal his ideas. In this account I am instead concerned with what, to me, was the most remarkable part of our visit: our stay at the Château de Corrigéville, our abrupt leaving therefrom, and the unexpected death of Starswirl the Bearded.
> I. La scène est définie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What a beautiful day!"

I smiled contentedly, basking in the early autumn sun. Along with my mentor, Clover de Velours - aka Princess Twilight Sparkle - I was strolling gently along the Rue de Chamelôt towards the Château de Corrigéville, where we were expected for tea. There was one further member of our party - Velvet's idol, Starswirl the Bearded, with whom she was deep in conversation.

This was not unusual. Since our arrival at Starswirl's door some seven weeks ago, he and Clover had spent a lot of time in evidently intense discussion about... something. For all his magical wisdom and knowledge of past, present, and even a little of the future, Starswirl could not speak Modern Equestrian. How could he, for the language was still in its earliest form, Old Earthponese, and was not yet the common language of the land. So instead, we had to accommodate him, speaking in his own language, Early Prench. This was not a problem for Clover, who had gained native-like fluency from years of study under Princess Celestia in our own present, but for me... this was rather difficult. My own understanding even of Modern Prench was shaky, and I often found it difficult to keep up with the flow of their conversations.

Seeing I was unlikely to garner a response from either of them, I continued walking in silence. The weather truly was delightful, however, a sign that unicorn-pegasus diplomatic relations were currently on a stable footing. Both Clover and I, however, were aware that this could not last for ever. The arrival of the Winter of Windigoes was just a few months away and, though no-one native to this time could have known it, a new nation, founded upon mutual friendship and trust, was shortly to be born.

For now, however, all seemed peaceful. The birds were singing, light, fluffy white clouds were scattered pleasingly across the cornflower-blue sky, and under the shade of the trees I could hear a pattering brook, babbling almost silently to itself as it glided over the pebbles. Shifting my gaze to the near distance, I could just about make out the line of a chimney, peeping above the topmost branches of a graceful oak. Turning to my companions, I coughed to catch their attention. "Hmm! Clover, Starswirl? I think we might be there."

Breaking off their conversation, Clover translated for Starswirl. He nodded, smiling. "Oui oui, nous sommes presque là."

After a moment I understood, replying, "Excellent!"

As we rounded the next sweeping curve of the path, leaving the stream behind, more of the house came into view. 'House' really isn't the right term, for the building was almost castle-like in its majesty. With towers and coronets, small, wooden-framed windows, a large, sturdy front door, a long gravel drive through very inviting looking gardens bordered with meticulously crafted box-hedge topiaries, and an imposing outer wall and gate - complete with gatehouse - the name of Château de Corrigéville was truly deserved. I couldn't help but gasp in awe at the wonderful visage now presented to us. Starswirl - or rather Étoire du Magique, in his native tongue - smiled again, evidently proud of his friend's place of residence, and pleased with my reaction.

Presently, we arrived at the front gate. Starswirl called out to the unseen gatekeeper in a comradely manner. "Monsieur Baude Vieillart, comment ça va?"

At these words the gatekeeper hove into view, plodding over to unlock the gates. He was a donkey, and seemed incredibly old and crotchety. He appeared most annoying at having been disturbed, evidently from a nap. "Bonjour, Monsieur Magique", he muttered in his hoarse voice. "Au moins il ne pleut pas."

This was beyond me, so Clover translated for me, grinning. "He says 'at least it isn't raining'!"

Vieillart seemed to take a short eternity to get those gates open. I was tempted to offer to help, but Starswirl caught my eye as I made to step forward, and almost imperceptibly shook his head. Apparently Monsieur Vieillart didn't take kindly to suggestions that he wasn't a perfectly adequate gate-opener. Eventually the gates were open far enough for us all to step through, and we passed into the secluded grounds of the estate.

We trotted at a comfortable pace along the finely gravelled drive. This was lined with innumerable weeping-willows, which draped downwards to caress the soft grass verge at the path's edge, forming a pleasantly verdant allée. The driveway up to the front door was longer than it at first appeared, and the château even more imposing. As we mounted the twelve shallow steps to the door, it opened before us, revealing a sombre-faced hoofman, and an even more serious-looking butler. "Bonjour, mesdames et monsieur," he intoned. "Si vous souhaitez mar-"

He was interrupted by the arrival of a fabulously beautiful mare whom I could only assume was to be our hostess. "Ah, c'est magnifique! Vous êtes tous arrivés. Bonjour Monsieur Étoire, bonjour mesdames!"

This most effusive of personalities was indeed the Marquise Clémentine de Platine, the unmarried daughter of the late Marquis de Platine, second-cousin of the Dauphin, and fourth in line for the unicorn throne. She had a perfectly pure white coat, a deep blue mane, sparkling blue but determined eyes, and was probably the most gorgeous mare I had ever laid captivated eyes on. I could easily imagine her as a teller of tall but true tales, being charismatic and charming, yet melodramatic and attention-seeking. She seemed to me, in fact, not so very different from one of my own friends back in the present, Rarity. Of course, I kept all of these thoughts to myself.

I was also wondering whether I ought to bow or curtsy or not, seeing as I was in the presence of partial royalty, but that question was fortunately made unnecessary by her immediately inviting us all inside. "Entre, entre, s'il vous plaît!" So we stepped over the threshold, blinking in the sudden relative darkness. Seeing our discomfitude, the Marquise gave us a moment for our eyes to adjust, smiling warmly at us in silence.

When she judged we were fully adjusted, she spoke again. "Je suis si heureux que vous puissiez tous venir." As she paused for a moment, Clover immediately began translating for me, for which I was thankful. I was beginning to wonder if the visit might become rather awkward, if the conversation had to be broken into every few seconds for la traduction, but fortunately at that moment the Marquise, evidently realising my difficulty, repeated what she had said in a form of Old Earthponese. "Ai! Zou speakest not ze Prench, non? I only said 'I am so glad zou wast able to come!"

I murmured my gratitude, relieved that I wouldn't have as hard a time of it as I had at first feared. How useful that the Marquis spoke Earthponese - and oh, her accent! Never before had I heard such an endearing way of speaking my native tongue. I listened, enthralled, as she insisted we call her Clémentine, and entreated us to accompany her to the gardens.

After clopping through a veritable maze of hallways and corridors, almost like Twilight's castle in their complexity, she brought us to the conservatory, and out through the Prench windows into the southern garden. This was at its best at this time of day, shortly before tea on a sunny afternoon in late autumn, and made for a most impressive scene. A long, close-cropped lawn stretched away into the distance, flanked by scores of elms, laburnums and larches. To the left and right of this main feature could be seen a variety of kitchen gardens for feeding the family, water gardens with fountains and pools, beds with dozens of species of flowers and, at the centre of it all, a ancient, regal oak, standing proud and tall above the surrounding landscape.

All of this I took in within a few seconds, as we were swiftly led to meet our fellow guest. "Zis," announced Clémentine, charmingly mispronouncing her 'th's', "is Herr Kommandant Dreist von Orkan, Leiter von Bewölktestal." She giggled lightly at my confusion, and continued, "but zou canst call him Herr Kommandant. We are all friends here!"

The Kommandant nodded his head in agreement as Clémentine introduced us to him in turn. His coat was a lightish blue, and he had a rainbow mane similar to Rainbow Dash's, though not quite as varied or as vibrant. He seemed a pleasant enough sort, though perhaps a little blunt. By way of greeting he thrust his hoof at mine and hoofbumped rather too firmly. Having greeted Clover in the same manner, he uttered a brief monosyllable to Starswirl, to which the latter smiled in understanding. Evidently the two were old acquaintances, though not perhaps on quite the best of terms.

At this juncture a loud gong rang out from indoors, and Clémentine raised her head expectantly. "Allons nous!" she exclaimed, "Nous allons dîner." And so the five of us went in to dine - the Marquise Clémentine, Herr Kommandant von Orkan, Étoire de Magique, Clover de Velours, and myself.
> II. Une mort dans la maison
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As I reëntered the maison, a sudden breeze made my fur stand on end, and I shivered slightly. Glancing back into the garden, I could see that the fluffy white clouds of earlier had thickened, and were beginning to cover most of the sky. The air felt muggy, almost tense. I sensed we were in for a storm.

These thoughts left my mind, however, as I turned to follow Clémentine to the diningroom. She was already in the thick of a lighthearted conversation with Étoire, and my heart leapt as she put her hoof round his aged shoulders. I felt a spurt of jealousy, and was shocked at myself - why should such a common way of showing friendship and affection bother me so? Clémentine and Étoire were clearly old and close friends, and why should I question any friendly overtures between them? I myself had only met the Marquise a few minutes before, and could hardly lay claim to her attentions. And yet, to my surprise, I began to realise that I did mind, that I did care. I felt like doing something silly, something ridiculous, just to catch her eye. I shook my head, impatiently. It was then that I noticed the Kommandant staring at me, and I hastily straightened my face.

He growled, in his rather raspy voice, "Fräulein Lueur, may I ask how you come to know of our esteemed Étoire?"

Fortunately, this potentially awkward question Twilight and I had prepared ourselves for. Seeing as we couldn't just tell everypony we met that we were from the future, we had decided, with Starswirl's agreement, to say that we were relatives of a distance branch of his family, coming down from the North to visit a favourite uncle. I repeated this to the Kommandant, and after a moment he seemed to accept my statement. "Hmm... I see."

I waited to see if any more conversation would be forthcoming, but evidently the Kommandant was not the most talkative of ponies, and we trotted in silence until we reached the door to the dininghall. Here Clémentine insisted we arrange ourselves into the correct, socially acceptable order for entry: herself first as host, then Clover as the senior female guest, then me, then Étoire as the senior male guest, and finally von Orkan.

As well all sedately traipsed in, I was surprised to see two other ponies already seated at the dinner table. Clémentine immediately took Clover and myself round to be introduced. "Mesdames," she began, "I would like you both to meet my charmant sister, Madamoiselle Chérie, and her gouvernante Madamoiselle Papillon de Jaune." She then repeated our names to Chérie and to Mam'zelle de Jaune, who both smiled graciously.

Madamoiselle Chérie was almost a perfect miniature version of Clémentine, and it was easy to spot the family resemblance. With the same pure white coat and a soft-mauve mane, it was clear that, within time she would grow to be as great a beauty as her sister. Mam'zelle de Jaune, however, was obviously not related - she was a pegaus, in an age when cross-racial unions were still frowned upon. She had pale yellow fur and a light, mint green mane and tail. Her eyes, which never quite seemed to look anypony fully in the face, were a matching, slightly darker shade of green. She smiled gently after our introduction, and offered the seat on her left - Chérie was on her right - for either Clover or myself to sit down.

I did so, with Mam'zelle de Jaune on my right, and Clover on my left. Clockwise from the head of the table, which stood near the largest fireplace I had ever seen - not lit today, thankfully, for despite the growing draft from outside it was still a hot day - the diners were arranged thus: Clémentine at the head, Chérie, Mam'zelle de Jaune, myself, and Clover down the righthandside, Étoire at the foot of the table, and three empty places then the Kommandant along the left. Two of the empty places were filled a few moments later, when two more arrived to join the meal. As Étoire and von Orkan politely rose from their seats, Clémentine introduced them to me and Clover.

"Zis" - she pointed a perfectly manicured forehoof at the younger of the two new mangeurs, a young pegasus probably about the same age as Chérie - "is Poulepourpre, who is a companion to my belle Chérie. You may call her Poulette. Et ça, c'est Mam'zelle Celette d'Huitain. She is the conductor and composer of my own, personal orchestre, and also mon ami proche."

Poulette was relatively small for her apparent age, but seemed to have no difficulty in putting away vast amounts of fodder. She was pale blue in colouring, not unlike the Kommandant, with a darker blue mane and tale. She had yet to gain her cutiemark, and so wore the customary cape of the time to cover her flank and hindlegs. Chérie, who sat almost opposite, also wore this manteau de jeunesse. The last named diner, Mam'zelle d'Huitain, I was surprised to see was an earth-pony; to have an earth-pony sitting at the dinnertable with members of the unicorn élite was most unusual at this time. She had a creamy-grey coat with a soft grey mane, and spoke in a demure and calm manner. And, most refreshingly for me, she spoke Old Earthponese without a trace of a unicorn or pegaus accent, evidently a native speaker from birth.

As she was sitting directly across the table from me, we fell naturally into conversation. Though initially rather reserved, and polite but not forthcoming, she gradually opened up as the meal progressed. Celette, as she asked me to call her, told me more about the de Platine family, and how she came to work for Clémetine (whom she consistently referred to as 'Madame Platine'). Naturally assuming I was from the North as I had told her, she also taught me a lot about the surrounding countryside, being familiar with the lands hereabouts from her own foalhood. I could not, of course, tell her that I was from the same area myself, but two thousand years in the future!

Throughout the meal I noticed several things which seemed to me to be worthy of remembering, which I shall recount here. Firstly, I apparently wasn't the only one who felt perturbed by Clémentine and Étoire's easy familiarity. Von Orkan, rarely engaging in any form of conversation with anypony, barely reacted to anything or to anyone, but would frown almost unnoticeably whenever the two shared a joke down the length of the table. Secondly, Étoire seemed rather more... infantile than I would have expected. More than once he played little tricks on his fellow diners, including making von Orkan's fork bend most ridiculously between mouthfuls, and causing the soup tureen to walk itself to anyone who desired more soup, and to disgorge itself into their bowl. Clémentine, and the two fillies, seemed to find these nonsenses most amusing, but they were alone in doing so. Mam'zelle Jaune appeared almost frightened of the tureen, and always inspected her cutlery carefully before taking a bite. Von Orkan retained his sullen silence throughout, and even Celette, who had warmed sufficiently enough to actually complement me on my manestyle, remained a rather frigid disposition towards Étoire. Clover, meanwhile, often appeared lost in thought, jumping whenever I attempted to address her.

All in all, though the meal was indubitably delightful, I couldn't help but feel relieved when it was over. As the servants came in to take away the empty dishes and plates - not without being threatened with a soaking by the energetic tureen - Clémentine invited the adults to pass through into the chambre arrière. Mam'zelle Jaune gently, almost ineffectually, cajoled Chérie and Poulette upstairs to bed, leaving just myself and Clover, Clémentine, the Kommandant, Étoire and Celette together to talk quietly amongst ourselves.

The Kommandant, evidently bored of our company, settled himself down into a sumptuous armchair, opened a hefty-looking tome which lay close to hoof, lit an enormous pipe, and ignored everypony else for the remainder of the evening. Étoire, having regained some of his maturity following the closure of the meal, stood in a corner with Clover, the two of them whispering in urgent undertones to each other. What they were saying seemed important, somehow, but I couldn't hear them well enough to discover why. This left Clémentine, Celette and myself to gather around a small occasional table and play cards.

The game we played was not one with which I was familiar, and I remember neither the name nor how to play. It involved collecting sets of four cards, or doubles, but I found the scoring rather confusing and lost every time, despite the best efforts of my hosts to educate me. What didn't help was the slight lightheadedness which I was beginning to feel, brought on no doubt by the lowering pressure of the imminent storm, and which worsened whenever, in the course of explaining the rules to me, Clémentine brushed her hoof against mine. The soft, unruffled fur of her foreleg, the exquisitely manicured hoof and fetlock, the playful twinkle in her eye as I made some silly mistake... as the game progressed, I found myself losing my concentration, hardly bearing to look away from the radiant beauty before me. Eventually, however, the cards worked themselves out, the last quatuor was completed, and the spell was broken.

Clémentine stood up, still smiling despite my inadequacy at the game. "Écoute!" she entreated me and Celette, "Listen to ze wind, how he blows!"

We stood there, listening in silence. The wind had picked up by now quite substantially, and was roaring down the unlit chimney. The wooden frames of the windows rattled, and trees could be heard creaking in the gardens. Then we heard it - the first long, low rumble of thunder. The storm was breaking at last.

Glancing at the grandfather clock by the door to the hall, I was surprised at how the time had flown. It was now well past nine in the evening, and completely dark outside. If Clover, Étoire and I were to make it back to his tower tonight we had better leave immediately.

I trotted over the plush carpet to where they stood, now gazing out into the storm. A moment later Clémentine joined us, and stood close by my shoulder. I was about to remind Clover and Étoire of the time when she spoke, allaying my fears. "Worry not, mesdames et monsieur. I shall not be so rude as to send you all out into ze storm. Never fear! For you shall all spend the night wiz me."

Just managing not to blush as the thought of 'spending the night' with Clémentine, I thanked her stammeringly. "Why th-thank you! That is most kind. We don't wish to be a burden, th-"

"Ai! Non, non, non. Zou shalt not be a burden, no indeed. Comest zou, Lumiette, et tu Clover, et tu, mon ami Étoire. We shall find rooms for you all, n'est pas?"

She led us back along the hall and up the long, wide staircase. Celette came as well, leaving just the Kommandant alone in the chambre arrière. Celette left us at the first landing for her own bedroom, closing the door softly behind her after bidding us all a pleasant night. The rest of us padded quietly up the second flight to the next floor, being careful at Clémentine's request that we try not to wake Chérie and Poulette, who also slept on this étage. Eventually we arrived outside three unoccupied rooms running along the lefthand wall of the second floor, into which Clémentine bid us enter. The bedrooms were fully furnished with a double fourposter bed, a chest-of-drawers and sitting-chair, and a simple washbasin, and were evidently kept in readiness for occasions such as these.

"Voila! Here is a room for each one of you. Everysing you will need is here, and if you require any new clozes, zen I am more zan happy to provide. Please do not hesitate to ring ze bells if you require any little sing. Breakfast at eight in ze morning is bon, I trust?" She smiled as we nodded and thanked her. "In zat case I shall bid you all bonne nuit. Until ze morning!" And with that, she trotted softly across the landing to her own dortoirs.

Then the three of us, Étoire, Clover and myself, also went to bed. I had the room directly opposite Clémentine, Clover's was adjacent to mine, and Étoire was to sleep in the room to her right. After yawning a polite bonne nuit to Clover and Étiore, I stepped inside and shut the door, feeling suddenly very tired. After a quick wash in the basin, I drew the heavy curtains, slipped beneath the covers, and drifted peacefully off to sleep, with the sound of the storm outside as a lullaby. Within minutes I had succumbed to the Land of Nod.


* * *


What felt like only a few minutes later, but in reality must have been several hours, I awoke with a start. I had the feeling that some loud crash had woken me, but couldn't be sure. I felt stuffy and uncomfortable, and clambered woozily out of bed to open the window. The storm had by now abated to a light drizzle, and I put my hoof out, savouring the cool dampness of the rain on my hot fur. Then I stumbled with the clumsiness of sleep back to my bed, snuggled beneath the covers once more, and fell into a fitful doze.

Suddenly, a piercing, female scream rang out from the landing, followed by a hollow thump. Immediately wide awake, I leapt out of bed, tripping over the sheets in my haste, and galloped to the door. I slammed it open - and gave vent to a gasp of dismay at the sight that met my astonished eyes.
> III. Détective Clover l’Ingénieuse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There on the floor, lying almost at my hooves, was Celette. An unlit candle, presumably snuffed out by the fall from her hoof onto the carpet, lay nearby. I quickly leant down beside her, and was relieved to find her still breathing. Then I realised what she must have screamed at - for there, in a patch of moonlight shining through the uncurtained window between the clouds, lay Étoire de Magique, Starswirl the Bearded. And he was surrounded by a rapidly growing pool of rich, red blood.

A went to go to him, but Clover was there before me, casting a powerful spell to curtail the bleeding. She crouched beside the prostrate wizard, and felt his lower foreleg for a pulse. I watched, open mouthed, scarcely breathing in my anxiety. After almost a full minute, she laid the limb down, sighed deeply, and looked up at me. She shook her head.

Another scream rent the air. Not mine, for I was still trying to comprehend what had happened. The cry was from Clémentine, who now collapsed weakly against her doorframe, eyes staring, hyperventilating. Clover turned to me calmly. "Take Clémentine downstairs. Fetch her something to drink, perhaps a glass of water."

"No." The Kommandant, whom I had not previously seen, came stepping carefully down the stairs to the third floor. "I will take her." And, with more care and consideration than I should have thought possible from a usually so uncommunicative stallion, he nudged her gently to her senses, and escorted her slowly down to the salon.

Clover stood up, and sighed again. She murmured something to herself which I couldn't catch, then walked over to the landing bellpull and rang the bell. While we were waiting for a response, Celette began to stir. As she came round her eyes lighted on the body of Étoire, and she gave another shuddering gasp. Though unable to provide any explanation, I sat down on the floor in front of her, blocking her view, and took her hooves in mine. I made calming noises, and spoke in a low voice. She seemed to calm down slightly, and acquiesced to my suggestion that we go downstairs to the salon.

After checking that Clover would be alright, I walked slowly down the steps with Celette, in silent contemplation. The butler, a gentle giant of an earth-pony stallion with an imperturbably taciturn visage, passed us on his way upstairs to the second landing. I could hear him and Clover conversing in hushed tones until Celette and I reached the ground floor. My memory of the almost labyrinthine château's floorplan was still far from adequate, but fortunately I was able to follow Celette to the salon, whereupon she sank down into an armchair and closed her eyes.

Clémentine, too was seated, sitting by the window with a glass of brandy in one hoof. Her breathing had steadied now, and she seemed to have risen above her earlier shock. The Kommandant came quietly over to me. "Frau Clémentine will be fine now, I think. The initial terror has passed. How do you feel, Fräulein? Do you desire brandy?"

I thanked him politely but declined and, nodding, he went over to repeat these ministrations to Celette. She also declined, though with less forbearance, seeming almost contemptuous of von Orkan; for why I could not fathom. He turned abruptly away, and went to sit by Clémentine, taking her hoof in his and providing silent moral support. She seemed almost not to notice, and did not remove her hoof from his touch.

I wished it could have been I who was the one holding her hoof, I the one on whom she could rely. I find myself frowning subconsciously, and jumped when Clover's voice spoke at my shoulder. "Starlight, would you find Mam'zelle de Jaune, please? I have an announcement to make."

"Oh! Yes, yes of course." Clover had entered the room without my noticing, along with de Pomme the butler, and the young fillies, who looked both frightened and excited. De Pomme's non-expressive countenance was as impassive as ever, and he stood unobtrusively in the corner with Chérie and Poulette, for all the world like a silent guardian, taking extra care of his young charges given the disturbance of recent events. While Clover went round checking everypony was alright, I left, wondering where de Jaune could be - after all, she slept on the same floor as Clémentine, Clover, Chérie and Poulette, Étoire himself, and me - so how had she not been awoken by the commotion?

Managing to remember the way up to the second floor, I mounted the stairs. Gingerly, fearing what I may see on the second landing, I surmounted the last steps - and was relieved to find that Clover and Pommeteur had laid a sheet over Étoire's body, shielding him from view. I felt a catch in my throat as the realisation finally hit me - Starswirl the Bearded, the greatest mage in the history of ponykind, had been murdered. Why anypony would do so, or who they might be, was beyond me, and I felt tears start to my eyes. He had been more than just a wizard. He had been a friend, too, to Clémentine, a mentor to Clover, a friendly, uncle-like figure to Chérie and Poulette. I was filled with a determination that whosoever has committed this outrage would be found, and that they would be punished.

As I stood there, thinking these thoughts, the fur on the back of my neck began to stand up. I sensed the presence of somepony else, of somepony watching me. The clock on the wall struck five, and I jumped. The feeling of a malevolent somebody grew, and I turned round slowly, almost dreading what I might find - and then sighed in relief. The pony watching me was no-one more frightening than Mam'zelle de Jaune, who was standing in the shadows outside the entrance to her quarters. "What is happening?", she asked me.

"I'm afraid, Mam'zelle, I have some bad news... perhaps you could come downstairs with me to the salon?"

She nodded cautiously, and we padded back down the stairs together, her gaze being drawn for a long moment to the sheeted mound on the carpet of the landing. But she didn't ask what it was, or why I was so sombre. She seemed almost preoccupied, in fact, and - when I saw her in the early dawn light that was beginning to shine through the windows of the hall - she looked damp, somehow. Her mane was hanging limply, and her fur was speckled with minuscule droplets of water.

Presently we arrived in the salon. De Pomme was still standing guard by the fillies, both of whom were now drinking glasses of milk. The Kommandant and Clémentine were sitting, flanks almost touching, on the sofa by the fire, which was being lit by a member of the domestic staff. Celette had moved and was now sitting, back perfectly straight, in a hard wooden chair, her expression unreadable. Clover was stood by the window, make use of the little natural light available and scribbling hurriedly in her little notebook which was always somewhere about her person, occasionally gazing off into the middle distance before continuing feverishly. As de Jaune and I arrived and arranged ourselves by the fireplace, Clover put down her pen, and quietly cleared her throat to gain everypony's attention.

After waiting a moment for the housemaid to withdraw, she spoke. "As I am sure you are all aware, a great tragedy has occurred. Our mutual friend, Étoire de Magique, has been - and there is no better way of putting this - murdered."

De Jaune, though evidently surprised, said nothing. Clémentine gave a quiet sob, and was comforted by the Kommandant. Again, I felt that alarming spurt of jealousy, and scolded myself harshly. Who was I to deprive a grieving mare of comfort? And why should I care who gave that comfort? And yet I did mind. I managed to pull myself together as Clover continued.

"Whilst this matter is really not one for ears of foals" - she glanced at Chérie and Poulette - "I think that it is best that they know the truth. After all, they know no more nor less than the rest of us, and knew him as well as any now here. It would be churlish, in my mind, to exclude them. However, I bow to your judgement, Marquise Clémentine."

Here she paused to allow Clémentine to reply, but as she seemed barely to be listening, it was the Kommandant who decided for her. "No, I think I agree with you, Fräulein Clover. Let the fillies remain present."

Nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement, Clover continued. "Very well. At present we know very little about what has transpired, but I do know this - we will not rest until we know what has happened to Étoire, and who has done this terrible thing. If you are all in agreement" - she paused again to look round us all - "I would like to act as temporary detective, leading the investigation. If anypony has any objection, please say so now."

She waited, giving us all time to speak. No-one did so, so she continued. "Then it is decided. I will act as detective, and I should like you, Lumiette, to be my assistant. Our first task will be to precisely determine the cause of death, and then to move Étoire's... body. Perhaps you, Herr Kommandant, would be able to aid us with that, as I doubt Mam'zelle Lueur and I will have sufficient strength."

I knew for a fact that this wasn't true. As an alicorn, Twilight was easily the strongest pony present, despite being physically lesser in stature than either the Kommandant or de Pomme. However, it was vital that we not betray our temporal origins, and a play of lack of strength was important. The Kommandant nodded in acquiescence.

"Excellent," thanked Clover. "I suggest that, for now, the rest of you do your best to continue about your day. Lumiette, Herr Kommandant, let us return to the scene of the crime."

Leaving Clémentine alone on the sofa, staring unseeingly into the fire, the Kommandant followed Clover and myself back along the corridor, and up the two flights of stairs to the second landing. The sun was now almost fully above the horizon, and was casting an angry red glow across the eastern sky. Étoire, under the sheet, lay bathed in a patch of early sunlight. Before we removed the covering, Clover cast a spell to clear away the now drying blood. As well as making this already unpleasant task less unbearable, clean fur would help us discover exactly what had killed the late magician.

After waiting roughly a minute to allow the spell time to work, Clover took hold of the sheet. Closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, she slowly lifted the covering away from Étoire's body. He lay there before us, spreadeagled limply in pre-rigor mortis death. Clover swallowed, and I too felt a lump come to my throat. Only von Orkan remained impassive.

Clover worked quickly, searching the body for the cause of death. "Here," she said. She point with her hoof to a deep, raw gash across the back of the neck. "That explains the profusion of blood."

I looked around, wondering what could have happened to the murder weapon. It had evidently been a blade of some sort, as the cut was deep but clean. Not seeing anything, I turned to Clover, who was staring unseeingly, lost in thought, at the injury. Eventually she spoke. "Right. I think we've learnt all we can for now. Herr Kommandant, if you would be so kind as to help me carry Étoire through into his room? I think that would be the best place for him for now."

Together, with Clover using her magic and the Kommandant lending physical support, they moved the body into the late magician's bedroom. Laying him carefully on the bed, Clover fetched another sheet from inside the chest-of-drawers and arranged it over him. Then, after pulling the curtains tightly to, and glancing swiftly around the room, she led us back outside onto the landing.