Final Curtain

by Purple Patch

First published 7th of June, 2017

A bizarre and suspicious death brings a young Princess Cadence and Shining Armour to the house of a certain dubious Prince.

A side-story of the Rejuvenationverse.
Princess Cadence and Shining Armour are intrigued to learn of a less-than-untimely death of a prominent independent noble and the factors surrounding it.
The scent of murder draws them in to investigate.
Unravelled are the origins of the notorious royal, Blueblood.

A bit lighter than my usual work. Those of you who liked The Rejuvenation Play more than its sequels will probably like this.
Based on The Inspector Alleyn Mysteries books by Ngaio Marsh and the 1193 BBC1 series starring Patrick Malahide.

Chapter 1

The deep, baritone horn of the PCS Bitt McKillop was joined by the grateful sigh of Lady Mi Amore Cadenza.

Home at last.

It had been a hectic week. What was meant to have been a simple tour across Equestria’s allied state in West Zebrica had turned into a perilous escapade to bring down a diamond smuggling cartel headed by one of Canterlot’s most powerful nobles that led to the uncovering of a conspiracy to invade Zebrica itself.

She’d have quite an interesting letter to write to Princess Celestia for certain.

Yet, for all the troubles that had bombarded her, none was more so than the company she had shared on the boat home.

A wealthy Equestrian couple that had invested a great deal in the Zebrican diamond trade, had benefited greatly from the cartel’s downfall and had simpered and fawned never-endingly over her efforts.

Jet Set and Upper Crust.

The two still hung on her shoulder as she watched the ship pull steadily, almost lazily, into port.

“You must be so looking forward to returning home to Canterlot, my lady.” Upper Crust clucked jovially.

“It will be good to get back, yes. Thank you.” Cadence replied, barely listening, gazing out at the majestic sight of the coastal city, Baltimare. She would have loved to stay a while in the great metropolis but Canterlot called a great deal louder and the train to the capital would not wait long.

“I wish we could say the same, my lady.” Jet Set whinnied “No sooner are we back than we’re off again.”

“Regular globetrotters, aren’t we just?” his wife tittered “There’s an auction in Manehattan for a simply magnificent yacht and with the earnings of our recent investiture, no small thanks to your good and noble self, we should be able to top them all. We’ll be sure to invite you on a tour.”

“The least we could do.” Jet Set added.

To be fair, the two had been very generous to her, inviting her to meals and activities around the ship almost daily. The difficulty was that they simply didn’t act like friends. She remembered they’d been on the ship to Zebrica in the first place and had barely acknowledged her. Their gratitude was admirable but it just didn’t seem honest given by how they’d behaved beforehoof.

Still, she could think of worse company. Among them the ruthless Baron Brittler Borax who’d been heading the smuggling cartel in the first place. He was being safely contained in the hold, guarded by Sergeant Shining Armour who’d, very happily, been requested to bodyguard Cadence on the voyage.

Jet Set and Upper Crust had been positively sycophantic to the Baron on the trip to Zebrica, mainly to get into his good books.

Word was that he was intent on ruining them unless they sold out to his estate. It would have guaranteed them lifelong comfortable earnings and this was what they appeared content with.

No sooner had Cadence revealed the truth about the Baron’s affluence however than the couple had turned on him, bought out his compromised firms and denounced every relation with him and his household.

They had come out of the endeavour very much rewarded though the Princess had no doubt that, if her claims had been false, they would have denounced and degraded her mercilessly until the Baron was certain of their loyalty.

Still, that whole fiasco had been avoided. She and Shining Armour had found proof, brought it to the authorities and ousted the wrongdoer. A fine week’s work.

Shining had volunteered get her the morning tea and papers. Already she was missing him.

She’d been growing rather fond of the Sergeant in recent months.

“First officer’s compliment’s, my lady.”

Speak of Discord, there he was. In gleaming brass and a cloak of pink and purple for the princess he stood before, her gallant bodyguard approached, levitating a tray with the morning tea and a warm pastry.

“Thank you, sergeant.” Cadence took the tray and sipped the tea gratefully, her head clearing of the morning stupor.

“And I thought you might like to see the paper.” The white unicorn held it up.

“Ah thank you.” Upper Crust snatched it from his hoof, causing the sergeant to subtly scowl.

Cadence rolled her eyes.

At least they didn’t have the audacity to take her breakfast as well.

“Now let’s see if there’s any good news for a change.” Jet Set opened the paper and set about skimming the Obituary, of all things, as Upper Crust fussed over his shoulder.

“Oh really, darling, you’re so morbid. The morning paper arrives and that’s the first page you turn to” She shook her head smiling at Cadence “Grisly, my lady, that’s what he is, simply macabre.”

“Oh don’t fret, poppet, helps to be informed. And if any of my horrendous aunts decides at last to shuffle off this mortal coil, I want to be around to stake a claim to what they owe me for putting up with their endless scolding and beady little glares for the best years of my life.”

Cadence shook her head as the two guffawed together in that obnoxious way.

Still, it had to be said, they were a happy couple. Two very vain, very irritating ponies but very well suited for each other.

It made Cadence wished she had somepony close. And when watching Jet Set and Upper Crust made one long for a relationship, one had truly remained single for far too long.

She found herself looking at Shining Armour again.

“Ooh, look here, darling!” Jet Set piped up “Old Sanguine has bought it!”

“Who?” Cadence and Shining peered over.

“Herod Sanguine, Prince of Marchion, the Equestrian vassal state. He was also an actor of sorts, quite famous for a time.”

“Yes, I remember. When I was a colt, I was dragged off to see him in MacHeath...Or what it Barbello? Anyway, it was something by Shaking-Spear but by half-way it could have been a lecture on the history of the Mareseille sewage system in Ancient Farmanic for all I cared!” he snorted “The stallion could bore for Equestria! I had to chew aniseed pills to keep myself awake else my dreaded aunts would nearly twist my ear off as they were wont to do at the slightest excuse.”

“Oh Jet, you poor thing.” Upper Crust chortled, pecking him on the cheek. Cadence caught Shining out the corner of her eye, making a ‘noose’ gesture behind the couple.

“Died on his birthday, it says here.” Jet Set continued “The occasion was marked by the unveiling of his portrait commissioned by a Miss Alma Rose, CPCA, etr.”

Alma Rose’s name caused Cadence and Shining to glance at each other knowingly. The mare was a college mate of theirs who’d gone into art after graduating. A bubbly milk-white pegasus with a flowing magenta mane, she was a charming friend and it concerned them to know she’d been wrapped up in this.

After letting the denizens of Canterlot Palace know how it all went, Alma’s house was where they’d need to pay a visit.

“Oh, well I never!” Upper Crust gave a surprised whinny, peering down into the harbour “It would seem you’re expected, my lady!”

Down below, situated as if a separate part of the city, Princess Celestia smiled up at them, accompanied by her student Sunset Shimmer, Chairstallion Fancy Pants, Councillors Earl Grey, Caesar Dressing, Royal Ribbon and a cadre of guards, many of Shining Armour’s friends among them.

Shining Armour also noticed his parents, Night Light and Velvet, with his little sister, Twilight Sparkle, perched atop her father’s head, waving excitedly with a wide, warm smile.

As the passengers disembarked, Cadence greeted her aunt with a humble bow. Celestia, however, had never found loftiness becoming of her and so she bowed back.

“Lady Mi Amore Cadenza...” she cooed “You have done very well.” She turned “Sergeant Shining Armour, will you escort the prisoner to the wagon?”

“Very good, your majesty.” he turned to four fellow stallions in the guard and issued a command.

“Blizzard Wind, Comet Tail, Stumbler and Flash Sentry, you will head to the hold and bring out the prisoner, Borax Brittler, formerly the Baron Bradoon. You’ll know him when you see him.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The four guard saluted and headed inside with haste. Sunset Shimmer approached and smiled at the two.

“Playing detectives, huh?” she chuckled “Sounds like fun. Wish the Princess would let me go out more often.”

“It was no game, Miss Shimmer.” Shining said firmly “Numerous times, our lives were put in no small amount of danger.”

“Wait, what? Your life was in danger and you never even called?” Velvet pushed her way forward, a shocked expression on her face as her eyes bore into her son’s “What were you thinking?!”

“Mother...firstly, the Zebrican Rainforests weren’t the best place for long-distance calls and secondly...”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Shiney!” Any antipathy in the household melted away as young Twilight pattered over on her little hooves and hugged her elder brother intently “I missed you!”

“It’s true. It’s been a...hectic couple of weeks.” Night Light joined them, slightly sleepy “Poor Twiley couldn’t get to sleep knowing you were so far away, we were up singing lullabies till midnight.”

“Aw, sorry everypony.” Shining brought them all in a hug “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving Equestria for a while after this. If I can’t return tonight, it’ll definitely be in the coming week.”

“Better not make it longer, for all our sakes” Velvet tried to sound commanding but yawned half-way through.

“So that’s the Baron Bradoon?” Sunset asked as the stallion was brought out, flanked by Shining’s guard. A tall, mean-looking dark silver stallion with a short, navy mane and dressed in a great silver-flecked black collar and a wide bonnet of office, the plume of white and cyan dry and drab after his less than pleasant containment in the hold.

Celestia looked him down, her glaze blazing into him.

The Baron had been known for his poise and self-position but clear discomfort was upon him as the Princess spoke.

“Brittler Borax, 12th Baron of Bradoon, your crimes against ponies and zebras alike put the harmony between Equestria and Zebrica in mortal peril and threatened countless lives to misery or worse. Understand well that your punishment will not be light!” She motioned with a shake of her fluorescent mane “Royal Guard, you may take him away!”

The Baron’s indigo eyes were cold and hard and fixed on Princess Cadence and Shining Armour. Shuffling in two sets of hoofcuffs and a magic containment ring around his horn, he walked almost calmly, not showing any discernible fear, merely an icy fury.

He spoke as he walked past, his voice as cold and hard as the look he gave them.

“I don’t know who you think you are but rest assured I will make you regret this outrage.”

“That’s enough. Keep walking.” Comet Tail gave him a clout at the back of the neck with his spear handle. The Baron was led away, seething, as Blizzard put a bag over his head.

“Nothing personal but you’re an ugly old buck and I’d rather not look at you.” he said. As the blinded Brittler was led into the prison wagon, he smacked his forehead on the door, giving a grunt of pain and anger.

“Whoops, heads up!” the roguish grey pegasus chuckled as the guards and Shining Armour failed to hide their mirth.

Catching sight of Celestia’s disapproving frown, she straightened up and prompted his fellows to do the same.

“I shall ensure Brittler Borax arrives at Manehattan Penitentiary before the day’s end.” Shining Armour gave a salute which was returned by a wry smile from the Princess.

“Very dutiful of you, sergeant, but I rather wished you to join us beside your good lady on the train back to Canterlot.”

At this, Shining Armour nearly jumped on the spot, blushing furiously, before removing his helmet and bowing his head graciously before the royal assembly.

He’d never been allowed such an honour before. When the time came to depart at the end of guarding the princess, she would go off with Princess Celestia, safe in her care, and he would make the long slog home with the guard.

Now, it seemed, the Princess wanted them both to receive the luxuries of a hard day of righting wrongs.

“I am...honoured, your majesty...b-beyond words...Thank you!”

Out the corner of his eye, Princess Cadence beamed like her aunt’s sun.

*

If he was hoping the train home would be enjoyable, Shining Armour was mostly satisfied.

Though it was by no means as romantic as he would have hoped.

For starters, the carriage in which he, Cadence, Sunset Shimmer and Princess Celestia would be occupying were a great deal larger than he thought. So, her family, being the watchful things they were, decided to also take up the Princess’s offer. They were swiftly followed by Shining’s friends in the Royal Guard. They weren’t cramped, no carriage meant to house an alicorn would be allowed to be, but it was getting somewhat awkward.

Twilight had quickly gotten bored, a common occurrence when her parents forgot to pack any books. And, like the filly she was, she’d had wanted to play with her BBBFF. Shining was, at first, intent on telling her, gently but firmly, she’d have to wait patiently until they got home but Cadence had instead decided to appease her all too readily.

Which had meant an amused audience to the antics of young Twiley and her brother.

The little lavender filly jumped around joyfully, wearing a small blanket tied neatly around her neck, acting as a makeshift cloak, as she spun round and bounced in front of Shining and Cadence.

“Ha-ha! Evil Grogar, scourge of Equestria, I have come to defeat you and rescue the Princess!” she whinnied.

Cadence gasped, her cheeks rosy as she giggled.

“Praise Paradise, its Star-Swirl the master wizard, come to save me from the clutches of the evil villain and his henchbeasts!”

Shining sighed and adopted his gravelly, evil voice.

“Puny fool! You think yourself a match for the Dark Lord of Tambelon?! You have merely taken one step closer to the abyss! Arise my undying lieutenants, my Legion of Malevolence! Tear this meddlesome creature asunder and I shall grant your souls the gift of release and- Flash, what in Equestria are you wearing? What are any of you wearing?!”

Turning round, he saw that his compatriots had elected to join Twilight in dressing up. And none of it was particularly impressive, mainly because they’d only been able to rummage around the classroom utensils and knick-knacks that the filly had left available.

Flash Sentry had painted himself a ‘kitty face’, complete with whiskers.

Stumbler had stretched rubber bands over his face and mane.

Comet Tail was holding up a rubix cube and waving it in front of them in a way that he thought must have seemed mystical.

And Blizzard Wind was wearing a motorboard and was chewing a pencil as one would a cigarette.

At the sight of them, Princess Celestia gave a dainty little chuckle, smile covered by her gilded hoof, while Sunset Shimmer facehoofed for all to see.

“You guys...seriously?” she groaned “Are you the Legion of Malevolence or the rear-section of the freaking Short Bus?”

Shining Armour elected to move swiftly on, no words to his knowledge satisfactory to register his confusion.

“Erm...charge my hordes of...”

“Not yet! We need introductions!” Cadence piped up with a grin.

“Yeah, introductions!” Twiley concurred, hopping gleefully.

“Oh, this is gonna’ be depressing.” Sunset muttered.

“Come now, Sunset. They’re trying their best.” Celestia said gently but firmly.

Sunset raised one eyebrow at her teacher and replied.

“Exactly. That’s what makes it depressing.”

“Okay, ahem” Flash began, puffing out his chest with enthusiasm, though his voice betrayed clear signs of befuddlement, making things up as he went along.

“I am...The Cat Burglar!”

There was a pause.

“Wow...” the red and orange rippled mare said at last, making no attempt to disguise her apathy “I knew it was gonna’ be bad, but...wow...”

“Alright...” Shining added “What do you do? Backstory!”

“Okay! I come into ponies’ houses at night and steal their lives!”

“Steal their wives?” Stumbler asked “I think these bands are a little tight.”

“This is so dumb...” Sunset shook her head as Flash Sentry continued ad-libbing.

“When I get into a fight, I use my mighty claws to scratch ponies to death...because...er, when I was a kid...cats ruined my life!”

There was another pause.

“Wait...So why are you killing ponies?!” Sunset exclaimed, exasperated “Sun-damn it, Flash, your villain sucks!”

Shining, Cadence and Celestia shook their heads, forcing themselves not to laugh as the embarrassed pegasus gave a shrug.

“Only a fool or a madpony messes with...Cat-Pony, the Claws of Fate!”

“A minute ago, you were the Cat-Burglar.” Comet Tail muttered aside.

“Next!” Sunset barked, already very tired of the charade on display.

“Okay, my turn” Stumbler said, possessed of the same wish to contribute hindered by his lack of preparation “I am...Rubber-Band Pony...One fateful day, a rubber band ball...fell into a vat of acid...”

“But then there wouldn’t be a rubber band ball.” Little Twilight Sparkle pointed out.

“Huh?”

“They’d freaking melt, you bonehead! That’s what acid does to rubber!” Sunset bellowed, red in the face “You fail! Start again! Next contestant!”

“Give them a chance, Sunset.” Celestia mellowed her student as Comet Tail stepped forward.

“I am...er...the evil...Temoc...”

“Don’t say Liat! You are not going to say Liat! If you have a single shred of creativity, you will not say Liat!”

Comet Tail glanced side to side guilty.

“Temoc...er...Temoc...Ilta!”

“I want to bucking die...” Sunset buried her face in her hooves.

“Don’t swear in front of the foal!” Velvet scolded.

“Temoc Ilta?” Twilight rolled the name around her tongue “That sounds like the name of the jungle demons from the Daring Do books? Are you like Ahuizotl?”

“...Yeah, sure, why not” Comet said, shrugging and waving his rubix cube “Behold my...Hypno-Orb!”

“You can’t call a cube an orb, you idiot!”

“C’mon, Sunset, we’re imagining it. Don’t be so grouchy.” Cadence giggled as Blizzard Wind braced himself for the crowd.

“Ahem...” he removed the pencil and pretended to blow smoke, trying his best to look edgy “The name’s...Cagey...Cap’n Nick Cagey...”

“No. No. No, we’re not doing that!” Sunset got up and pushed past the stallions, her limit reached “You guys clearly couldn’t act like villains to save your lives! Here, let me show you how it’s done!”

The mare stepped forward. Her horn glowed her trademark fiery tones as the lights in the carriage switched off and her eyes flickered with menace. The white of her eyes turned black, highlighting the ember-like blaze of her irises, boring into little Twilight who shrank back nervously, as did most of the others.

With the magic from her horn surrounding her face, Sunset allowed her irises and teeth to glow abnormally and appear much larger than her face itself as she grinned, gave a bizarre hiss and spoke, her voice so eerily calm one couldn’t stop but shudder.

“What are you afraid of, little one?” she whispered hauntingly “What...do...you...fear?!”

There was a pause, longer and more awkward than all that came before it.

Then little Twilight Sparkle gave a drawn out whimper that quickly turned into a terrified sob, curling up into a ball on the ground and covering her eyes with her hooves.

Her mood positively whiplashing, Sunset immediately turned the lights back on.

“Oh no! Nonononono, no, no, don’t cry! Please don’t cry! I didn’t mean for that to happen! Don’t! Don’t cry!”

As Sunset frantically apologised, Velvet broke from the audience and Cadence inexplicably released herself from Grogar’s clutches to apply an emergency dose of hugs and kisses to the crying filly.

“Oh my little sweetheart, come here, it’s okay. It’s okay...” Her mother promised, nuzzling her daughters cheek with her own.

“It’s alright, Twiley, she’s not gonna’ hurt you. Nopony’s gonna hurt you.” Cadence cooed in turn.

“Hey, don’t I get to cheer her up?” Night Light asked, chuckling “Pass her over you hogs.”

Velvet and Cadence carried the sniffling filly over to her father, sitting next to Princess Celestia who also chipped in to help though unable to stop herself hooting with laughter at the awkwardness occurring.

Flash Sentry meanwhile, tutted at Sunset.

“Oh great, Sunny, look at that! You made her cry! You happy now?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean for that to happen! I was just...” the orange unicorn stammered but by now the guards were fully taking advantage of the situation.

“Wow, Sunset, wow! You just had to take it too far, didn’t you!” Comet Tail sighed.

“I mean sure, our villains might not have been ‘serious’ or ‘intimidating’ or anything but at least we didn’t make Twiley burst into tears!” Stumbler fussed.

“Look, prize student, I can set my mane on fire and have my helmet resemble a burning skull, but I wouldn’t do it because she’s barely ten years old!” Blizzard derided.

“Shut up, okay!” Sunset yelled at last “Enough with the third degree already! You guys suck!”

Shining Armour looked to her crying little sister then to his arguing colleagues.

He then checked the clock above the carriage door.

Two more hours till they arrived at Canterlot.

He muttered quietly over the racket.

“I miss the diamond mines!”

*

Shining and Cadence had spent some time recovering the less than relaxing train journey at Donut Joe’s with Night Light, Velvet and Twilight. Then, with a couple of hugs and kisses goodbye, they set off for Alma Rose’s residence.

Alma Rose, the daughter of the Shajarati expatriate and court official, Lord Razzmatazz, and the Ambassador to Saddle Arabia, Dame Amaranth, had never lacked for money. Her home was an apartment suite in uptown Canterlot, rich in culture and hospitality. A pegasus who enjoyed the clouds, Alma’s suite was high in the complex.

Shining and Cadence elected to take the elevator. Cadence found the door, having visited a couple of times in the past, and pressed the ringer. Both Razzmatazz and Amaranth were likely to be away on court business at this time of year but Alma rarely left Canterlot without letting her friends know.

Sure enough, she answered swiftly. The pale-periwinkle mare looked as if there were a lot on her mind but not so much as to seem stressed. In any case, her mood brightened significantly at the sight of the two visitors.

“Shiney! Cadey! Hi, it’s so good to see you again! It felt like you were gone for ages! Come inside, come on, I wanna' know everything!”

“Thanks, Alma. It’s good to see you too.” Cadence gave her a friendly nuzzle as she and Shining walked in.

The apartment was spacious, well-kept very high-class and decorated with various Saddle Arabian relics and regalia from her parents exploits.

It was welcome after the train ride Shining had endured.

“We...bought you a gift.” He produced a large, gleaming watermelon from a saddle-bag.

Alma gave it a curious smile.

“Really?”

“Flowers tend to wilt.” Shining added, giving a bashful shrug.

Alma weighed it in her hoof.

“Maybe I’ll use it in a still-life.”

She elected not to, in the end, deciding instead to make some exotic cocktails for herself and her two friends.

As they sat down, the chilled, fruity beverages suitably refreshing and relaxing them, they related their recent exploits.

“Honestly, I would have preferred to share the cabin with Baron Brittler’s thugs!” Cadence sighed “I wouldn’t mind a smuggler or even a murderer, one of those creepy, growly stallions who drag ponies off in the middle of the night and send them down a river somewhere because they know too much. It’s these hangers-on that really finish you off! They ooze what they think is charm and it’s endless, day and night, without end!”

Alma chuckled.

“Yeah, my parents say they have the same problems.”

“I scarce repress a shudder, Alma, I tell you.” Cadence took a sip of her cocktail “If Shining hadn’t been there, I don’t think my sanity would’ve survived the trip.”

“Oh really?” The pegasus gave a wry grin. Cadence turned to see Shining blushing furiously, staring into his cocktail that seemed to resemble his face quite well.

“Well, I mean, b-because he’s always there for me...I mean...” Cadence backtracked frantically “What I mean is, he’s good to talk to and share stuff with, er...secrets, er, that is to say, stuff I need kept secret for...reasons...and...”

“Sure, sure...” Alma calmed her and tilted her head “So...you wanna’ know what I’ve been up to?”

“We know what you’ve been up to...” Shining pointed out, coming to his senses “You’ve been painting that Sanguine guy. The one who died.”

Alma drew back, eyes widening.

“Holy Luna, that’s scary!” she exclaimed “What, did you develop telepathy or something?”

“No, it was in the Gazette.” It was Cadence’s turn to calm Alma this time.

“Sorry, sorry...it’s just that...” The pegasus waved a hoof around her ear “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to tell you about it for a while...It’s been on my mind and...something doesn’t feel right...”

“I can imagine it wouldn’t.” Shining said.

“No, no. There’s more to it than that, there has to be. Look...” she leaned forward, an earnest expression on her face “I’m not...ditzy, am I?”

“No, there’s a very different pony who goes by that name” Shining chuckled but Alma’s mood was serious.

Which often meant so were things in general.

“Come on, Shiney. An old stallion’s dead.” she shook her head with worry “They all said it was the crayfish but what about the red paint on the banister or that creepy little book about how to embalm a corpse? And what really worries me is what happened to the rat-poison?!”

She paused.

Shining and Cadence were tilting their heads in complete bewilderment.

Alma gave an apologetic frown.

“Sorry. Look, I’m making sense inside my head, I know I am!” she insisted “It’s just that I’m not much good at telling a story!”

“Well, regardless...” Cadence took another sip of her cocktail and raised one eyebrow curiously.

Shining had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I think it’s a story we’d like to hear...”

Author's Notes:

Hi everone. Sorry I haven’t uploaded stuff for a while.
I chalk it down to the early summer stupor...and getting Skyrim: The Definitive Edition on PS4.
Recently, I saw an old British Murder Mystery (Something my family are very partial to) starring Patrick Malahide (He’s Balon Greyjoy for anyone who watches Game of Thrones)
It gave me an idea for a side-story, detailing the origins of a certain Royal twit.
Speaking of Game of Thrones, the bit where the Baron whacks his head on the prison wagon is based off a scene with the Hound and the Brotherhood Without Banners.
Westeros is so cruel to ugly people. Why do they make it funny?
This is a bit more light-hearted (Despite the whole...y’know, murder) than my current fics so I hope to win back the readers that prefer The Rejuvenation Play to its sequels.
I hope it provides some enjoyment, particularly the Twiabetes scene at the beginning.
More attention from Ender Moon's OC, Blizzard Wind. Thanks for your comments. You’re awesome!
Flash and Stumbler’s...less-than-successful villain guises are based off Tomato Gaming’s GTA 5 Online endeavours. I find them hilarious though I chose not to use MadMax’s ‘The Soggy Sock of Shia LaBeouf’ gimmick for obvious reasons.
Hope you enjoy it and thanks for any comments or constructive criticisms.

Chapter 2

“So...where exactly to begin?” Alma said, puffing her cheeks in thought

“Where else but the beginning.” Shining pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s just...I’m having trouble figuring deciding when it was that I felt weird about it and when it was that things actually started getting weird...” The young pegasus sat back and massaged her temples.

It was clear anxiety was weighing on her. Cadence, being the mare she was, placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Alma. Keep calm...” She and Alma both took a deep breath as she spoke, starting the story for her “So you were asked to paint this stallion’s portrait? Prince Herod Sanguine, his name was, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah...” Alma said at last “Prince Herod Bludric Sanguine, that’s how it started anyway. I got a letter from Prince Herod’s daughter-in-law who keeps house for him. Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine, her name was.”

“Curious name.” Cadence murmured.

“Well apparently, she used to be called Lapis Lazuli but Prince Herod...ah, what’s the word...” Alma pondered a moment “Well...he renamed her, really, when she married into the family. She and his son performed several plays together and she worked with his Herod himself in King Drear.”

Shining and Cadence exchanged a look of curiosity between them. Apparently theatre was as important to this Sanguine family as bloodline.

Alma continued.

“Anyway, I told them that portrait-painting wasn’t really my area of expertise. I’m better at more abstract stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ll need to remember to see the College Gallery. I’d love to see your work.” Cadence added offhoof before returning to the topic “But if you turned them down...”

“Well, that’s the thing. They were persistent, I’ll give ‘em that.” Alma shook her head “Because the next thing I knew, Sir Persnickety was at my doorstep. He’s Prince Herod’s nephew, I found out.”

They knew the name. Persnickety was a well-to-do, white-coated, saffron-maned stallion around Canterlot, a pony who was far more famous for being easy to spot in a crowd than through any note or deed due to his fashionable eggplant-indigo jacket, top hat and monocle he wore everywhere and for every occasion. He apparently made his fortune in shipping and navigation a while ago. It hadn’t made any headlines but he lived comfortably and, for the most part, was amiable, if not a little too uptight.

“So, then you said yes?” Shining asked.

“Well, I said yes to lunch.” Alma replied bashfully “It was at The Crepe Suzette. It’s not something you turn down unless you want to look like a real weirdo.”

The Crepe Suzette, a restaurant frequented and judged ‘satisfactory’ by Zesty Gourmand, was about as high-class as a citizen of Canterlot could ask for without being an immediate member of the royal family. Shining and Cadence both nodded. Refusing an invitation would’ve looked peculiar to say the least and Alma had never enjoyed going against the trend.

“Even if the food is pretty meagre and the friendly faces even more so, it was a very generous gesture. But, in any case, I still told him that the commission for the portrait was something I just didn’t feel comfortable about.”

“But why?” Persnickety’s mellow expression did not change. It was clear he was used to sorting these things out diplomatically, a quartermaster and entrepreneur rarely got far without the skill.

Alma, already uncomfortable with the surroundings, busied her hooves with checking the cutlery, unsure of what several of the various apparatus were even used for.

“Well, please don’t think I want to offend in any way, Mr Persnickety...” she began.

“But of course.” he replied.

“...It’s just that...the request I received specified a portrait of your uncle as MacHeath, six-feet-by-four, to be completed in just over a week? I’m not a house painter, Mr Persnickety, I’m not even, strictly speaking, a professional portrait artist. Sorry, it doesn’t sound like a job I’d be wise in taking.”

“I entirely understand. Forgive us, Miss Rose, for being so abrupt. Circumstances were rather thorny, so to speak.” He tugged at his napkin nervously “You see, it’s Papa’s seventy-fifth.”

Like most sheltered nobility, he referred to his eldest family member as ‘Papa’ and said the word as if it was monosyllabic so it came out more like ‘P’Pa’, something Alma had always found rather odd in grown ponies.

Persnickety continued in a courteous and slightly apologetic manner.

“He was so in hopes that the realm would honour him with a portrait.” He rolled his eyes “Alas, the realm has dragged its collective hooves and so Papa, being the gracious and humble stallion that he is, has decided to honour himself. He hasn’t the reputation to hire a professional portraitist, no offence intended, nor would he be satisfied with anypony lower than a high-class capital graduate. We took a while tracking you down, hence the rather strict time-limit but I promise we will make it worth your while. If my personal opinion counts for anything, with the duress he’s putting on you, he should be grateful if he gets a simple face study but my uncle can, to his credit, be counted on to reward those who service him well. Money really is no object, to me or my uncle.”

“I’m still not quite sure.”

“Oh come now, Miss Rose, once a week.” The stallion insisted “And I assure you...You’ll loathe our family.”

“I’m sure I would but...” Alma paused and looked him in the eye quizzically “Sorry, I’ll do what?”

“Not to alleviate, you understand, but taken en masse, they can be quite revolting.” Persnickety gave a morbid chuckle “It’s why I prefer to remain here in the capital. Of course I received rather a mouthful from the old boy for it and had to give up my claim to heirship of Marchion but, quite frankly, I counted that as a benefit” He realised his mouth had run away with him somewhat and backtracked slightly.

“But not to worry, they behave themselves around guests, at least, and working hammer and tongs, as it were, you won’t see much of them.”

“Hammer and tongs aren’t quite how I like to work.” Alma replied, thoroughly bemused “The main problem is I’ve never painted to order or with a time-limit or six-feet-by-four. I am flattered, honestly, by the request but I just don’t see how I can satisfy.”

“Miss Alma Rose, I promise you, you will have as much support from us as possible. Any necessities or requirements, let them be known ahead of time and we’ll take care of it.”

“Really, I don’t want to impose...”

“Nothing of the sort. We’ll all want Papa to be in a good mood for the special day.” Persnickety rolled his eyes again “You see, however much he rants about it, he’s not going to be around forever. And on this occasion, the evening’s festivities will be marked by the reading of his will.” He paused, making a meaningful raise of his brow “Do you follow?”

Alma gave something between a sigh and a chuckle.

“Honestly, Mr Persnickety, I’m tempted to accept just to see this place for myself!”

“Splendid.” He sat back with a smile “The family will be delighted but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Expect me on the big day and I wish you the best of luck.” He turned as an immaculate waiter brought forth the long-awaited starters “Now...Did you order the Doeufs-et-Doignons Baudelaire or did I?”

Alma paused and glanced at the barely identifiable dish.

“Your guess is as good as mine...”

“Curiosity got the better of you, then?” Shining asked knowingly.

“It sounded like some cosmic horror story, Cadey. Honestly, I felt quite excited. I feel deprived of dysfunctional family life, growing up with such quiet, well-mannered parents.” Alma giggled, shaking her head at the incredulity of it all.

“Which, I imagine, is how you came to be on the train to Marchion?” Cadence said.

“Yep. And it was there that I got my first real taste of what to expect...”

The ride to Marchion took Alma through the rolling fields and forests between the capital and the vassal states in the outskirts. Times were this had all been former farmland, used by the warring states to grow grain and produce to be sold for weapons, armour and the horse-power to equip it for war against the first alicorns.

The impatience and single-mindedness of the old petty kings proved their undoing. Selling too much food for weapons was never a good idea. One could not eat sharpened steel and the more soldiers hired, the more mouths needed feeding.

Many states fell within the first winter, starving in the frozen fields or beset upon by their own mutinying guard.

Equestria held out, its union between the three loyal tribes allowing them to brace for any peril.

It had been many long centuries since then. Grass and trees were all that was left of most of the vanished warring states, once proud enough to be called kingdoms.

Marchion had been one such state, surrendering when their doom was nigh. Its kings gave up their crowns and agreed to the terms set out by Equestria. But vassal states remained their own states nonetheless, with their own laws, their own customs, their own leaders and their own populace, rarely venturing out of Equestria, the resentment of millennia-old defeats still burning in some minds.

Marchion, however, was considered fairly safe. It hadn’t risen up during the chaos of the Civil War, one of the few vassals to pass off such an opportunity, and its leaders had largely relegated themselves to royalty in-name-only, the Sanguine family’s exploits in the theatre testament to such.

Alma had been reading a book on it on the train as she calmly ate her lunch, a tomato puree and chopped-olive roll, idly gazing out the window.

“Ahem.”

The sound of a stallion loudly clearing his throat behind her caused Alma to jump and cough repeatedly, narrowly avoiding choking.

The stallion stood in the doorway, not overly invested in helping her.

“You’re not ill, are you?” he drew back slightly as if afraid of catching something.

“No, no, it’s just...” Alma spluttered through coughing.

“Your drink is over there.” he pointed curtly to a small bottle of lemonade in her hamper beside her which she snatched up and gulped on, washing down the bread, tomato and olives caught in her throat. Gasping for air, red in the face, she gave a begrudging look to the newcomer who didn’t seem to register.

“Thanks a whole bunch.”

“Not at all. Now...” He cleared his throat again, fussily set out a large handkerchief on the carriage seat opposite her and sat down in a manner he was trying to make look suave “Would you be the ‘gifted artiste’ coming to Sanguine Hall to paint the soon-to-be seventy-fiver, by any chance?”

Alma took him in. He was a young unicorn stallion similar to Persnickety in coat and mane though his tones were significantly brighter. His mane was long, slicked back over his head but for a single lock gaudily trailing over his face. He was dressed in a short black jacket decorated with a rose in one lapel and a blue bowtie. His cutie mark were two four-pointed stars atop one another, gold over silver, like the archaic unicorn kings of old.

He had the look of a royal to him and clearly was used to thinking that but she’d never seen him with Cadence or anywhere she frequented in the capital at all.

“Yes, that would be me.” she answered, her breath back at last.

“Wonderful.” he gave an arrogant smile “You see, I’m on my way there myself. I don’t suppose we’ve met.” He extended a hoof “The name’s Blueblood, grandson and heir of Prince Herod and guest of her Majesty’s court. Charmed.”

She managed a half-smile and shook the hoof he presented. Catching note of his peeved expression, she realised he’d extended it as if to be kissed as Celestia and Cadence occasionally did.

The stallion had an ego on him. That was plain to see.

“Blueblood?!” Cadence exclaimed “Dear Laurelore! And I thought spending a boat trip with Jet Set and Upper Crust was a nightmare!”

“Do you know him well?” Alma asked “I haven’t ever seen him before? He wasn't anyone we knew at school.”

“Oh no, he’d never dream of setting hoof near ‘common upstarts' like us, he’s that sort of stallion. You know the one.” The pink and purple alicorn shook her head “He’s something of a figure around court. I’ve never really thought to ask where he came from and how he fits in but he acts as if he owns the place. Lazy, rude and more full of himself than anypony I’ve had to cross!”

“He makes life Tartarus for the guard as well.” Shining groaned “He once hoof-picked eighteen officers to guard him on a journey out of the capital. Do you know where he took us? The travelling merchant stall about ten feet from Canterlot’s walls! And he insisted we stay by him for the rest of the day! He was treating us like new clothes to show off or something.”

Alma weighed their words and chuckled.

“Yep. That sounds like him alright. We...kind of hit it off...”

He coughed awkwardly, subtly wiped his hoof with another handkerchief not quite out of her sight, and spoke.

“I find it rather a lark that you’re coming to paint Papa in all his regalia. Very charitable, I have to say.”

“So...” she tried hard to show courtesy while ignoring the lack of it she received from him “Prince Herod is your...”

“Grandfather. Yes.” He butted in, his mood appearing to sour at his grandfathers name “Sordid, isn’t it. My mummy is Gwendolyn who sent you the invitation, you see. She looks after him. And Daddy...was...Sir Lockhart Heraldric Sanguine, his eldest son.”

‘Celestia help us, this one says ‘Mummy and Daddy’!’ Alma thought, losing some amount of faith in ponykind.

Still, the young stallion did seem troubled about speaking of his parents.

Pausing, he slouched over the seat in what he must have thought looked dashing and lit a cigarette.

The smoke lurked around the room. Alma had never liked smoking, particularly not in close proximity.

“Er...excuse me...” she motioned.

The stallion turned his gaze nonchalantly towards her. She coughed meaningfully a couple of times.

He removed the cigarette from his mouth and mumbled.

“Ah yes, sorry...”

He didn’t put it out as she hoped he would. Instead his horn lit up and he opened the window of the carriage. Fortunately she was sitting facing the back so the smoke was mostly swept out into the fields but that didn’t make him seem all that more considerate.

Fighting the wish to give him a piece of her mind, Alma searched for a non-delicate subject of talk.

“I was told your family perform.” She began “Do you fall into that category?”

He raised one eyebrow.

“How considerate of you to take a notice.” He said in a snide tone.

‘Oh so now it’s me that needs to be considerate?! That’s rich!’ she fought hard not to say as Blueblood continued.

“Yes, I quite enjoy performing and I find I make good impressions when one is given opportunity...” His smile curdled “Opportunity which, with a word from the grand old steed would be all the year round. Only in my case, the grand old steed chooses never to speak.” He tutted “Talk about blood being thicker than water.”

The train gave a faint whistle and Blueblood positively grimaced in a revolted sort of way.

“Oh sweet Paradise, don’t look!”

Alma jumped, startled.

“What is it?”

“I can’t bear it. Every time I see it, it gets uglier!” Blueblood was massaging his temples as if in the midst of a migraine as the train turned round on the hillside and the grand ramparts and the lofty towers of Sanguine Rise Castle peered over the forest canopy.

A flag flew from the highest perch, a directional star, similar to Blueblood’s cutie mark only, in the flag’s case, the foremost star was a deep red and the star behind pearl white. Identical but smaller stars stood in the corners of the banner as it waved to the passengers over the hill.

“Gods, the unending horror of it!” Blueblood groaned “Castle Despair!”

Stopping at the modest train station, an ornate arch welcoming them to Marchion State, Alma lugged her artist’s equipment out onto the platform as Blueblood watched disinterestedly.

“Thanks, thanks for the help!” her sarcastic tone was becoming frequent.

“No trouble.” Blueblood said, not paying her much attention. Peering through the steam from the docked train, he gave a smile.

“I say.” He exclaimed as two ponies, a mare and a stallion, emerged “I spy with my little eye, Sanguines by the dozen. Greetings, you two!”

Alma glanced at them. Both of them were well-dressed and walked in a stately manner, albeit the stallion managed with a walking-stick. He was a rangy pegasus, light-orange in coat with a short russet-brown mane and a trim moustache. His cutie mark was a wispy white cloud passing over a silver star. He’d dressed himself in the garb of a Cloudwatcher, Outer Equestria’s Auxiliary Air Force, with a navy-blue long-coat and a military cap. One of his wings was tucked through a sleeve but the other was hidden under the coat entirely.

Alma knew well that pegasi only hid their wings when they’d injured them.

The mare was a young unicorn, frail of stature. Her coat was a pale shade of yellow and her mane was dark green, curling round her shoulders. Her face had a certain tired look to it that made her look quite a bit older than she must have been but otherwise seemed in very good spirits. She was wrapped up in a grand fur collar that seemed to dwarf her modest build. Her cutie mark was a blooming flower with three small silver stars bursting forth from it.

They both smiled at her and Blueblood as they approached, the pegasus tipping his cap.

Blueblood introduced them.

“This is my cousin, Rowena Buttercup.”

“Hello.” the mare said, politely but briskly and giving a slight curtsey.

“And the warrior bold is Bayard Hawthorn, another cousin.”

“How do you do?” The stallion’s hoof-shake was firm but warm. There was a very friendly tone about him.

Alma found herself feeling safe with him.

“Very well, thank you.” she answered with a smile.

“My good kinsponies, this is Miss Alma Rose.” Blueblood gave an effete show of hoof as he presented her.

“You’ve really come! We can hardly believe it.” Rowena’s tone was almost breathless “Grandfather is ten years younger.”

“Whereas I am aging by the minute.” Blueblood butted in “Do say you’ve bought the car.”

“Only Conkers and the baggage cart, I’m afraid.” Bayard said, turning to Alma “Have you much luggage?”

“Ah...” Alma gestured to her generous amount of artist’s supplies and equipment.

“Oh, so you have.” Rowena gave an awkward grimace “Well, pop your things on the cart and I think we can manage...”

“I refuse to walk!” Blueblood snapped, stamping one hoof.

Rowena sighed impatiently but Bayard gave him a curt smirk.

“Then you make sure it arrives safely, cousin. I’m sure there’s room for one on the cart.”

Blueblood paled, straightened up and nervously approached the cart.

A shaggy, ochre-coated, heavily-built young pegasus about Blueblood’s age bowed and set about hoisting Alma’s belongings onto the cart with great amounts of strength and dexterity, carrying as much as four of the bulky boxes and bags at a time, before taking the reins of the cart and checking on the passenger, wedged somewhat uncomfortably between the luggage on the seat.

“Everything alright, sir?” his voice was unusually quick and high-pitched but Alma didn’t care to dwell on it.

“Yes, yes, can’t be helped. Let’s get going.” Blueblood said brusquely “The sooner we’re home the better-Whoamph!” he lurched back as the pegasus, Conkers, took off with the cart at an alarming speed, the perturbed protests of Blueblood sounding over the clatter of wheels on cobblestone as they sped up to Sanguine Hall.

“Slow down Conkers, you clod! You’ll have us all over!”

Neither Bayard, Rowena nor Alma could suppress a satisfied chuckle.

The three made their way up to Sanguine Hall by hoof. Alma was a fairly laid-back Pegasus and, while she was known to fly in moments of exuberance, she usually kept hooves on the ground in conservative company. It helped not to rile those with influence in domains far from home.

The way up to the house passed through a park that surrounded them with hedges and bathed them in the shadows of great oaks. Marchion had known peace for a long time and the atmosphere suited it well.

The two Sanguines were on her shoulder, informing her of things to come.

“The house is fairly quiet at the moment, enjoy it while it lasts.” Rowena explained “Of course, the clan will gather for the great day. My mother will be there, Cordelia Wildsmythe Buttercup-Sanguine as she is now, but father’s touring in Saddle Arabia.”

“Really? Is he in the army?” Alma asked.

“No, he suffers from hay-fever at this time of year.”

Alma paused.

“So he heads to the desert?”

“Hmm...Tells you everything you need to know about my father.” Rowena answered bashfully.

“Then there’s my mother, who’s already here.” Bayard joined the conversation, walking briskly with his stick “And not to mention our Aunt Maeve, we call her Muffy, who’s never married but dies for love every few months.”

“Three sisters?” Alma asked with a curious smile.

“Good subject for a play. So like our grand-father.” Bayard chuckled before catching his walking stick on the edge of a cobblestone. He fell to one side, narrowly managing to steady himself before he fell over completely, quietly cursing.

Rowena gasped and clutched at his shoulder.

“Bayard! My darling, are you alright?!” she exclaimed, pulling him up on his hooves and stick again.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry yourself about it.” he assured her, his free wing wrapping round her shoulders quite tenderly. They smiled at each other in a way that certainly implied there was more going on than indirect relations.

Alma gave them a look. She’d heard about cousins and even siblings marrying in the old households of former royals, something about keeping the bloodline pure. She’d always found the idea distasteful, more for its show of arrogance than anything else.

But these two seemed genuinely fond of one another.

Turning to the hedges, she saw something staring at her through the leaves.

A small pink, rather plump filly in a bonnet poked her head out and stuck out her tongue, puffing out her cheeks and crossing her eyes.

Alma was taken aback.

“Hey!” she exclaimed indignantly. The two Sanguines broke off from their heartening moment and turned.

“What is it?” Rowena asked.

“Some horrible little foal in the hedge. She was making faces at me.” Alma stared at where she’d noticed. The filly had disappeared back into the foliage and was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes...” Bayard said knowingly “That’ll be my younger sister.”

Alma blushed.

“Oh...sorry.”

“Don’t be, she is a horror, in every sense of the word.” he said, grimacing “But grandfather dotes on her, calls her a blossoming goddess of the stage, and that suits mother if she’s in his good books, so none of us can take her aside and belt her one, unfortunately.”

“We call her Babbles.” Rowena added.

“Curious nickname.”

“Pray you don’t ever have to witness her table-manners. You’ll understand.” They walked on as Bayard continued.

“In a way, I’m the black sheep of the family, no offense intended towards sheep of any colour, of course. Because I hate the theatre, I want nothing to do with it.” He tensed his neck “I haven’t seen action since I left the Watch. My own damn fault.” he gestured to his covered wing which gave an uncomfortable stir, suggesting serious damage “Flew too far into a rainstorm over the Shimmerwood. What I’d really like to do is join the Royal Guard but with this ruddy wing and leg, it’s all out of reach for the moment.”

“Well...I have some friends in the guard. I’m sure they’d find something you could do, they’re always looking for new members.”

“Well that was nice of you.” Shining said with an impressed tone “I reckon we could find something for him to do.”

“He's a nice guy. Felt like doing him a favour, really” Alma said, shrugging “You’ll like him when you go over to Sanguine Hall...well...if.” She cleared her throat “Anyway. We met Bayard’s mother, Ninienne Igraine Hawthorn-Sanguine to use her full name.”

“What was she like?”

“Well...how to put this?” Alma pondered a moment “She’s been in a lot of plays where the actors come in and go out through Prench windows.”

“Ah....” Cadence and Shining mused aloud.

They knew what that meant.

“Hellooooooo! My dear Miss Rose! Welcome!”

A shrill yodel from the terrace caused all three approaching ponies to jump and several flocks of birds to rocket out of their branches and onto the wing.

A rather portly mare was approaching from Sanguine Hall’s interior, white-coated with a mane slightly more reddish than Blueblood’s bright blonde, bundled behind her head in an ornate netted headdress, added to which she wore a high fur collar above an off-white dress with bright red embroidery. She also wore one of the most giddy-looking smiles Alma had ever seen on a pony and came cantering down the path, a cocktail glass in one hoof, to welcome the guest, grasping her by the hoof, planting a kiss on either cheek and positively squawking out pleasantries.

“Welcome, my dear, to Sanguine Hall, welcome, welcome! Bask in its ancestral radiance to your heart’s content! We are all agog! How simply marvellous of you to come down to us from the capital to paint for our daddy! We shan’t forget your graciousness, I promise you!” She turned swiftly to Bayard and instantly switched to a frown, pursing her lips and raising one eyebrow.

“Bayard, darling, I hope you haven’t walked all the way from the station. Not with your poor leg. Now, don’t lie. Gormless has told me all.” She shushed her son before he could get a word out and turned to the mare beside him.

“Rowena, dear, why would you let him ruin himself like that? Who knows what could have happened?”

“Mother.” Bayard said at last, firmly and with an air of determination “Walking is good for me. When I left the hospital, I was told...”

“Oh such a brave old colt, Miss Rose, so courageous.” Ninienne turned her attention from her son to the guest, drawing herself up and dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes melodramatically in an attempt to shush the indignant Bayard “A roiling gallant home from battle, a grand aurora, reflection temporal of the noble kings of old" She sniffed loudly "Pray forgive a mother’s tears, Miss Rose. We Sanguines cannot always hide what is...within...” She blubbed publically for a moment then switched back to merriment as quickly as she’d left it.

“Drinks are being served in the great hall! Come quickly before Gormless quaffs the lot!”

“Hang on...” Cadence butted in “Who’s Gormless?”

“Well that’s exactly what I asked. As it turned out...”

“Gormless. Cousin Gormless, he was with you on the train, surely.” Bayard answered.

Alma blinked.

“Sorry, you mean Blueblood?”

“Oh dear. Daddy shan’t like that.” Ninienne clucked “He shan’t like that at all. I did warn him, and his poor mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

Rowena turned to Alma and explained earnestly.

“That’s not his real name, at least not at Sanguine Hall. Apart from himself, only his mother calls him by that name and so did his late father”

“Poor old Lockhart, Celestia rest his dear soul.” Ninienne blubbed again “If only he saw what his errant colt was becoming.”

“But anyway, the name Papa gives to him, and therefore what the rest of the family refers to him as, is Gormless Blott Sanguine”

“Gormless Blott?!” Cadence exclaimed “Really?!”

“Yeah...” Alma replied sarcastically “I got the impression, therein, that his grandfather didn’t exactly have a very high opinion of him.”

“I can imagine not. Though that raises the question about why he was his heir."

“Well, that’s a good question...And what I found later only upped the stakes.”

“Ah, there you are.” They found Blueblood, or indeed Gormless, reclining on the great settee in the great hall, sipping on an icy beverage.

“Come in and have a Fruit Cup. Aeschylus, drinks for our guests, there’s a good fellow.” He beckoned over an ancient-looking stallion with the same rust-red coat as Conkers the cart-driver, grey in patches but combed elegantly. He presented a tray of iced cocktails in tall glasses.

“Gods, I’m lucky to be alive after that cart up home.” Blueblood sighed, turning to the butler “Aeschylus, I don’t know what you’re feeding your colt these days but can you please tell him to slow it down? I could have broken my neck.”

“Apologies, sir. I’ll see to it that Master Conkers makes his carting less rapid in future.” Aeschylus quavered in a reedy voice, offering the tray out to Alma “Fruit Cup, madam?”

“Thank you.” Alma took one and sipped it. It was a strong drink but suitable for the atmosphere. Sitting down, she enjoyed a moment’s respite.

“Blueblood.” A voice from behind them preceded the sound of hoofsteps “Sit up straight, you’re not a foal.”

A middle-aged mare entered the room, a unicorn with an azure coat and silver mane. She wore a little makeup, not enough to be very noticeable, and was dressed in a simple but well-made indigo gown. The first thing Alma noticed about her was the way she walked, more stately and proper than she’d ever seen, not too much to look pretentious and not too little to look hasty. The way she held her head up, gazing upon them without tilting her head an inch out of place, she possessed the poise and grace of a well-groomed cat and spoke in a perfect balance between gentleness and firmness.

She smiled at Alma and shook her hoof deftly.

“Miss Alma Rose. I am exceptionally thankful for you to accept my invitation. I am Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine.”

Alma paused.

She thought back to all of Blueblood’s discourtesy aboard the train.

Somehow she had a difficult time imagining him taking lessons in manners from anypony, let alone this mare.

Yet, turning to Blueblood, Alma noticed he had indeed sat up straight, not speedily or fearfully, but almost automatically, as if it were second-nature.

A mare who could get Blueblood to behave was impressive to say the least.

“My father-in-law looks forward to meeting you at dinner.” Gwendolyn continued “He hopes you had a pleasant journey.”

“And so on.” Blueblood muttered, making a space for his mother on the settee.

“Gwen, dear, where are you putting Miss Rose? Ophelia or Viola?”

“Papa named the bedrooms after Shaking-Spear heroines.” Rowena pointed out, leaning over the armchair to Alma’s side.

“Why not in Portia?” Blueblood suggested.

“Out of the question, Blueblood.” Gwendolyn answered in that measured tone of hers “The ceiling leaks. And there are rats. Portia is out of bounds. Miss Rose will do very nicely in Viola.”

“Until Aeschylus finds the rat-poison he misplaced.” Ninienne added, causing the butler to cringe slightly, the tray shaking in his hoof.

“Oh it’ll turn up around the greenhouse somewhere, Aunt Ninny, it’s hardly worth giving him a hard time over.”

It was Blueblood that had come to Aeschylus’s defence, going so far as to pat him on the shoulder. To say this surprised Alma was an understatement but she said nothing.

“Happens to everypony. And it’s not like there’s a global shortage of the damn stuff. In the meantime...” he cracked a menacing grin “We could always move darling Honeysuckle into Portia. What fun that would be.”

He and Ninienne chuckled together like a pair of crooks in a den.

“Be quiet, Blueblood” Gwendolyn said sternly.

They caught sight of Alma’s confused expression.

“Rowena, dear? Bayard? Did neither of you tell Miss Rose about Honeysuckle?” Blueblood asked with a chuckle as the two looked at each other with some amount of dread.

“Is she...one of the family?” Alma asked.

“No...” Blueblood answered, a cunning glint in his eyes “But she’d very much like to be.”

“Blueblood, really, you are impossible” Gwendolyn fussed.

“Oh come on now, mummy. She needs to know what she’s in for.” the young stallion insisted and leaned in towards Alma.

“Miss Honeysuckle is by way of being the old party’s protégé” he heavily emphasised the word.

“...I see...”

Blueblood grinned childishly.

“Or, if I may resort to Ye Olde Equestriane, she’s his bit of naughty.”

“Gormless! Don’t be disgusting!” Rowena exclaimed.

“Thank you, Rowena, but I believe chastisement is a mother’s privilege.” Gwendolyn said in that trademark measured tone.

“Daddy picked her up at some performance a year ago.” Ninienne explained, sarcasm in her voice “Took her round to stay the same way one would take home a stray dog. She’s been hanging around ever since.”

Blueblood looked around and hissed.

“She’s absolutely horrendous. We all loathe her.”

“Am I in time for a Fwuit Cup?” A high-pitched voice that would have sounded a lot more sonorous if it didn’t have the girlish lisp about it sounded from upstairs “Oh thay it’th not all gone! Honey thimply mutht have her dwinkie!”

The lisp sounded fake.

And as its owner entered, Alma found that wasn’t all.

The mare was tall and thin with a slightly beige coat, vivid blue eyes twinkling behind fluttering lashes and a mane so absurdly blonde it could not have been natural. Bright red lipstick and prominent eyeliner adorned her face along with earrings, necklace and a garish periwinkle dress with bejewelled inlays and lace fastening that pinched at her figure in the places deemed appropriate.

As she gazed around, Blueblood sprung to his hooves and smiled in a very exuberant manner, crying out joyously.

“Darling!”

The mare gasped excitedly.

“Gormy! You’ve come down for dear old Woddy’s birthday!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Honey my pet! A drink for you, as hoped for.” His horn shone and the final Fruit Cup levitated from the tray as he positively skipped over to Honeysuckle, kissing her hoof and beckoning her back up the stairs “Come, come, my treasure! I must hear about how things have been while I was gone! How’s the old boy been, I know he must have improved with you around, so wonderful of you to...”

As his flattery trailed off, Alma looked around the room.

All four Sanguines present wore expressions of utter disdain.

She sipped her cocktail and shuddered.

Things just got worse and worse.

Author's Notes:

Here we get a better look at the Sanguine family.
If they're names sound out-of-place and pretentious to you, that's because that's the intention. You won't see them called Bob, Stan or Elvis but it sounds as odd to them as calling your human son or daughter Cherry, Caramel or Rainbow.
Persnickety's in Hearts and Hooves Day. The one deemed 'Too Uptight' by Applebloom.
His resemblance to Blueblood is quite uncanny so I thought I'd link them somewhat.
So which Sanguine's your favourite so far? Let me know.

Chapter 3

“Well, she sounds...interesting.” Was all Shining could manage.

“It sounded like they all had a grudge against her.” Cadence surmised.

“That did seem to be the case.” Alma replenished their glasses “Well...after drinks, Rowena volunteered to take me to Room Viola. I tell you, it was like scaling the Canterhorn. The house was high in more ways than one but we got there.”

Catching their breath as they cleared the final step, the mares took in the room.

“The Canterhorn is conquered” Alma chuckled through gasps as she gazed around.

The room was spacious, more than enough to accommodate her and the luggage, possessed of an ensuite washroom. Various paintings and antiques cluttered the walls and furniture and the design of the rugs, blankets and pillows was traditional embroidery based on the tapestries she’d seen at the Canterlot Royal Palace whenever she visited Cadence.

“Well...this is really quite lovely.” Alma said, wide-eyed at the sight.

“I’m glad you like it.” Rowena said, still having that twinge of awkward breathlessness on her voice that she had even before her flight up the stairs. She shook her head, sighing “And you’re so nice that now I wish, for your sake, you hadn’t come. I can’t believe Persnickety led you on this way. He knew what would happen, that’s why he left in the first place.”

Alma stared at her with puzzlement.

“Dear Celestia, you talk like I’m on Death Row here. What am I in for?”

Rowena looked outside, shut the door and approached Alma with a worried look on her face.

“You saw them down there. You saw how my family plotted and schemed, casting doubt and blame on one another like that.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Alma said, shrugging.

“No, no, that’s the point. This is them on their good days. This is them when they’re too busy spitting on that dreadful Honeysuckle that they forget how much they hate each other.” she looked ready to cry “I used to love it here at Papa’s so much but he’s just become so horrid. As soon as you’re old enough to benefit the family in some way, he resents you for not doing so every minute of the day. And it’s so utterly hypocritical of him to act like we’re the embarrassments! How would you react if your grandfather brought that simpering trollop into the house and showered her with jewels and dresses that your own grandmother once wore?!”

Alma paused.

“I’d be more worried about how my grandmother would react. Eighty-five she may be, Granny Zumurud still packs a mean right-hook.”

She chuckled and then caught sight of Rowena’s humourless expression. Her smile faded on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“It’s fine...” the young unicorn made a face as if she were having a migraine “But, I mean...what if he leaves Sanguine Hall to her? What would happen to the rest of us? And I used to think it would be Tartarus if Babbles or Gormless got the place...” she shook her head “Look, don’t let their pretty smiles and fancy manners fool you. It’s a warzone here. Aunt Gwen, Aunt Ninny, Aunt Maeve, even mother, they all fight amongst themselves, for the inheritance. You won’t know it but it’s there, the looks they give each other, the veiled threats...Old mares can be so foul.”

“I don’t know...” Alma shrugged half-heartedly “To an observer, it shouldn’t be too bothersome and if you’re looking for a helping hoof, I could manage.”

“But...”

“Look, Rowena...” Alma put up a measured hoof “It’s okay. Honestly. I’m just here to paint a picture. I’m not familiar with how these things work out but I’m sure you won’t come to any harm and besides...I don’t think you should tell me anything you’ll want to kick yourself for later on...or want to kick me.”

Rowena paused, looking her up and down in a forlorn manner, and nodded, turning for the door.

“Dinner’s at eight o’ clock.” she said plainly “You’ll hear the gong.”

Opening the door, she turned back, standing in the doorway.

“I won’t say more but there is malice about this house...you’ll see. Papa seems to bring out the worst in all of us.”

“I’ll be fine, Rowena.” Alma said kindly but firmly as her worrisome guide left her alone in Room Viola.

For the next half-hour, Alma Rose occupied herself with a little light reading and idle sketches.

One of them, making sure to omit it to the couple, was of Shining and Cadence with a foal between them.

She smiled at the sight.

That would be the day.

The gong came as inevitably as Rowena had forecasted. Making her way back downstairs was not as arduous as going back up, particularly not with anything to carry.

Alma had dressed herself a little with a blue silk shawl decorated with silver inscriptions that her father had brought over from his homeland in Saddle Arabia. It wasn’t an extensive piece of wear but it served to make a decent impression.

At around the third floor where Rowena had mentioned most of the elder generation of the family (Or at the least the most favoured) resided, Alma glanced down as something stirred on the carpet.

It was a sleek white cat, having just roused from an afternoon nap it seemed and was eying her, one ear twitching curiously.

Alma gave it a smile but, as cats were wont to do, it paid her little mind and disappeared down the corridor leading to the lower flight of stairs.

Passing room after room, names of Shaking-Spear heroines engraved on small gold plates at each one, she caught sight of the cat passing through a slightly ajar door marked Juliet.

Voices came from within, neither of which particularly familiar.

Alma had always been a curious mare and, stepping lightly, cocked her ear straight up and listened.

A mare’s voice, brusque and harsh, accent of a fairly urban sort.

“It’s a miracle I don’t lose my mind! You think I enjoy living in this mausoleum with a bunch of old crones and a foal who’d make Discord look safe and sane?!”

Then a stallion’s voice, low and austere but trying to sound gentle.

“My dear, sweet bud of nectar, I would never allow you to come to harm. Are your days so troubled since I brought you here under my very roof?”

“Oh not at all, it’s a laugh a minute” the mare replied sarcastically, sighing with frustration “If you really cared about me, you’d put me in a position where I wasn’t looked down on! You owe it to me, Roddy! A mare has her self-respect!”

Roddy?

Who had said that name before?

Though in a rather different way.

There was a pause.

Then the mare’s voice sounded again.

“There’s someone out there! It’s that disgusting foal again!”

‘Gulp’

Alma speedily made her way along, round the corner to the staircase and was gone before the door could fully open.

Taking a deep breath at the great hall, she paused and contemplated.

Rowena hadn’t been entirely wrong.

Something was afoot in this house.

The quiet clearing of throat beside her caused Alma to turn. Aeschylus, the old butler, was standing before her.

“Are you looking for the drawing room, madam?” he asked.

“Well, I heard the gong.”

“Yes, the family meet in the drawing room at the sound of the gong and waits for his grace to appear. I shall show you the way, if you like.”

The drawing room was among the several rooms that Alma was uncertain was the largest or not.

Treasures and ornaments from ages past swathed the place, all in the same decor and design as the decorations in her room.

The memories of old Marchion when the Sanguines were kings.

The fireplace was lit, a gentle ochre glow illuminating the place, darkness having fallen outside.

Alone in the room, she looked for somewhere to sit. No chair or settee seemed small enough for a single pony.

Alma had a more-or-less wealthy upbringing but this was something new entirely.

The graceful hoof-steps approaching were familiar.

“All alone, Miss Rose? How neglectful we are.” Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine appeared in her stately manner.

“It’s fine, I was having trouble occupying myself.” Alma said, a half-truth.

“Do sit down. Aeschylus will serve sherry when there’s a full house.” Gwendolyn said “Is Viola to your liking?”

“Pardon?” What had sounded like a rather inappropriate question, Alma quickly reworked in her head “Oh the room? Yeah, it’s great...I mean very...uh...proper.”

Gwendolyn gave her a knowing smile.

“There’s no need to be too formal with us, Miss Rose. We’re not all snobs here. There is just something rather important about which I hoped to speak to you earlier.”

“Yes?”

The blue mare gave an uneasy look.

“I understand that, in the capital...how to put this...eating meat is not best practiced.”

Alma pursed her lips.

Gwendolyn spoke not of eating red meat, of course. Eating fellow beasts of hoof had been a cardinal sin long before the age of Alicorns, but the consumption of poultry, fish and crustaceans was still allowed, if very uncommon. Griffons, carnivores themselves, had no interest in the treatment of non-sentient avians and if the hippocampi of old had ever objected to their land-bound relatives dining on sea creatures they’d said nothing for the last few thousand years.

But the cost of keeping and tending animals for slaughter was not cheap and over the millennia the Alicorns had ruled it had simply fallen out of fashion in most parts of Equestria. There simply wasn’t much point when the wars were over and the soldiers once again took up their yokes and trowels to harvest trees heavy with fruit and fields brimming with crop without fear of having to protect it as fiercely as they once had. Alma had heard meat-eating was still done among the noble families, more as a novelty than anything else, but she’d never expected to partake and wasn’t sure she’d want to.

She felt there was just something about it that would feel a bit...weird.

The pegasus answered.

“Yeah, that’s a bit of a complicated subject. It’s not illegal or anything, it’s just not done a whole lot. But if it would be more convenient...”

“No, no, you see, Blueblood’s never had a taste for meat either so I tend to speak to the cooks and have them organise something more substantial for him.” Gwendolyn sat down “They almost always make more than the colt can eat so I can very easily accommodate you for that. Today I believe they’re preparing a Crepe Mondeline, it’s a rice-flour pancake topped with shredded cabbage, sliced peppers and a poached egg with a cherry tomato and basil relish, crushed garlic and a drizzle of sour cream.”

“Oh...thank you, very kind, that sounds delicious.” Alma said, finding a place to sit “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Not at all, it’ll save them having to waste anything. I’ll have a word with Aeschylus before we’re all served. He’ll let them know.”

“Yeah, there was something I was going to ask...” Alma began “Your son...and Aeschylus. They seem pretty...close.”

“Ah, yes.” Gwendolyn sighed, a slight hint of melancholy playing on her features “My husband, Lockhart Heraldric Sanguine, Blueblood’s father and Prince Herod’s only son and heir...was not with his son for very long. And with me usually occupied housekeeping, Blueblood was looked after by Aeschylus, who’d had a son around the same time as us.”

“Conkers?” Alma supposed.

“That’s right. They were raised together. They’re practically brothers. And Aeschylus is, in perfect honesty, the closest thing he’s ever had to a father. He was a satisfactory teacher, quite a bit too lenient to my son’s flaws, sad to say, but he made a decent effort regardless. As he gets older, many of the family believe Aeschylus should be sent away but Blueblood will not hear of it. Our old butler is...very important to him...” Her words came slow as clear sadness seemed into her tone “Though his true father, if he were alive...I’m sure he’d be...Are you alright?”

Alma was fidgeting uncomfortably. She’d sat on something. Something with a hard corner. Reaching under the couch, she pulled out a small book with dry, browned pages and an ornate, embellished cover.

She read the title.

“The Ancient Art of the Embalming of Corpses...ew...”

“It sounds like one of the books from our collection.” Gwendolyn eyed it “May I see it?”

“Sure” Alma held it out. It was enveloped by a silver haze of magic as the mare gave it a closer look.

“Yes, I believe it is...No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” Alma asked.

“Well, you see I came in here yesterday just in time to see Prince Herod’s...” Gwendolyn paused, thinking of the right word “...lady friend sitting down there rather suddenly with a very pink face. I dare say she took it from the library and neglected to put it back in its correct place. I’ll take care of that.” She deposited it in a pocket within her dress.

“It looks like an antique. Is it valuable?”

Gwendolyn’s brow creased slightly.

“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, Miss Rose...I can think of few other reasons why it should commend itself to Miss Honeysuckle.” She gave an awkward grimace as she spoke the name “One is rarely called to mention her and books in the same breath.”

“Well, not one on embalming corpses, that’s for certain.” Was all Alma could say to that. She felt uncomfortable talking about Honeysuckle, whatever her opinions on her.

And that conversation she’d overheard still bugged her. Did Prince Herod have another mare around?

There were more hoofsteps and the drawing room got a little less vacant as Ninienne and her son, Bayard, approached. Bayard had dressed himself in a plain blue jacket and white neckerchief. His injured wing was in view, bandaged and motionless at his back. Ninienne meanwhile was in a lush red velvet dress with a lace collar, almost dancing with every step.

“Papa’s just coming down, everypony.” she beckoned.

“Oh blast...” Gwendolyn gave a light groan “Blueblood will be late.”

“Afraid so, Auntie.” Bayard sighed mirthlessly “He was still in the bath when I tried to call him.”

At this, Ninienne tutted, a smile barely hidden on her face as she raised a glass.

She rarely wasn’t seen with a glass beside her, Alma noticed.

“Hardly the way to stay in Papa’s good graces is it, Gwen dear.”

Gwendolyn raised her eyebrow slightly and frowned but said nothing as Ninienne sipped her drink, a victorious glint in her eyes.

Rowena hadn’t been so wrong after all. Swords were drawn. One slip-up and they all pounced.

Alma felt a little less safe.

Rowena herself followed in through another door, dressed in a dainty floral blouse.

“Oh good, he’s not here yet.” she sighed gratefully “I came down by the back stairs, heading him off at the pass.” She stood by Bayard who had made his way behind a chair, steadying himself, and smiled sweetly.

“Good evening, Mister Hawthorn.” she said, barely containing a shy giggle.

Bayard returned the smile, face full of charm.

“Good evening to you, Miss Buttercup.”

“What’s this, my darling boy? More mischief?” Ninienne asked coyly, a playful smirk on her face.

Both young lovers looked at the floor bashfully.

“Oh, is mummy not to be told?” Bayard’s mother sighed “Oh dear. Very well, let’s keep it to ourselves, why don’t we?”

“Ahem!”

As loud and brusquely as his grandson had done on the train, Prince Herod Sanguine announced his coming before entering.

Taking every step like some officer inspecting his troops, he cut an imposing figure. He was tall and quite muscular though he’d grown a significant paunch in his age. His white coat was wrinkled but not sagging and his gold mane, though long turned white, still reigned proudly over his head and neck and was coupled with a great beard and moustache curling slightly round the cheeks. His cutie mark resembled the flag atop Sanguine Towers only the red star, instead of crossing over the silver, instead was smaller and thus fitted within, backed by a gold swirl casting an upside-down crescent shape. His proud blue eyes skimmed the crowd with an imperious gaze as his family positively stood to attention.

At the sight of Alma Rose, he smiled grandly and approached, every step stately and austere.

“So this is our distinguished painter?” his voice was loud but not alarmingly so, enough to fill the room. A trait among the prouder sort of actors. Bending down and taking her forehoof in his own he smiled wider, his azure eyes twinkling.

“I am delighted, Miss Alma Rose.” he kissed the forehoof “Truly delighted.”

Alma smiled, half-flattered, half-embarrassed by the stallion at least three times her age making such a gesture.

“I hope you continue to be.” she said.

“I believe I shall, my good lady” he waved a forehoof around the drawing-room “Let it never be said that any honoured guest was neglected here at our ancestral Sanguine Hall. I dearly hope my kin have made your stay pleasant thus far.”

“Oh they have, don’t worry.” she felt bashful under his gaze “I’ve been treated very well, thank you.”

“I am most content to hear you say so, Miss Rose. I believe I have been overly coercive in my haste to have your talents.” he sighed “Perhaps my nephew was right to chastise me for it. But fear not. However pressured you have been I shall do my utmost to ease it all. My house is yours. Ask of me whatever you would require. I shall not refuse without good cause, oh munificent artisan.”

And with that, he turned round and fixed his gaze on his daughter-in-law.

“Gwendolyn...” he said, his voice becoming that much more stern “My impression was that Gormless Blott would be joining us from the capital at the same time Miss Rose graced us with her presence. Indeed you assured me this would be so.”

“Yes, Papa. He is here, as I said.”

“Therein I fear you are mistaken, Gwendolyn. For I do not see your son here or anywhere else. Or do you suggest my eyes are failing me at this time?”

“No, no, Papa. He is coming, I promise you, he’s simply been...preoccupied.” Graceful as she had seemed, Alma noticed the mare whither slightly under Prince Herod’s gaze.

“Preoccupied?” Herod wrung the word round his tongue as if they were two words “How?”

“He had an important letter to write to his fellow courtiers back in the capital. Such things cannot be rushed or delayed. He may not have heard the gong.”

Herod took a deep inhale through his nostrils, his massive chest rising and falling.

“In what room is he, Gwendolyn?” he asked.

Gwendolyn’s face possessed a worried twinge.

“Titania, I believe.”

“Then he most certainly heard the gong.” Herod’s sternness could cut through the wooden furnishings of the drawing room wall. His eyes were piercing and his tone daunting.

Yet there was something triumphant about his manner, as if he was somehow glad to be insulted.

Ninienne too, gave Gwendolyn a look of faux-pity and gave her drink another sip.

Herod drew himself back up, turned to the butler and his threatening manner was gone almost entirely, as quickly as he’d adopted it.

“Aeschylus, you may oblige me with a whiskey and soda.”

“Oh now, Papa, those aren’t good for you.” Ninienne pointed out, seriousness in her tone.

“She’s right you know.” Gwendolyn added “Doctor Caraway distinctly said one small glass of sherry or red at meals or...”

“HOLD! ENOUGH!” The aged unicorn raised a hoof high in the air, not to strike at anypony but to grab attention nonetheless. The two mares jumped and were silent on his signal. Satisfied, he gave the butler another smile.

“Go, Aeschylus, stay me with flagons.” The butler bowed and departed a moment. Herod turned back to Alma with a magnanimous air.

“You see, Miss Rose, how an old stallion departs from his well-ordered ways in your honour?”

“Oh really, Papa, it’s so careless of you.” Ninienne fussed “It would serve you right, you know, if you wake up with those awful stomach cramps and the...oh my gods.”

She started suddenly. Alma looked over and saw her and Gwendolyn staring aghast at Honeysuckle, who’d just entered in a dazzling gown studded with quartz laced into the embroidery, a pair of gold and turquoise bracelets around her forehooves and a great necklace with the largest diamond Alma Rose had ever seen.

She smiled sweetly and spoke with that high-pitched lisp.

“I adore it when ponies are pleathed to thee me. Woddy, darling, when the applauthe quite dieth down, I’d like a gin and tonic.”

Gwendolyn whispered, appalled at the sight

“She’s wearing...Oh how could she?”

Alma gave a puzzled look, something that was doing quite frequently at Sanguine Hall.

What exactly had them so riled at Honeysuckle’s extravagance? It was quite distracting certainly but the two mares acted like they’d seen somepony murdered before them.

And Honeysuckle seemed all too aware, though showed nothing.

“Papa, earnest master of the house, forgive me!” Showering apologies and flattery, Blueblood hurriedly entered.

“Dear sire, I creep, I grovel, I cannot apologise enough for my tardiness.” he glanced aside to the butler “Aeschylus, dear fellow, I know you try your best but if you can’t ring the gong louder than that, find somepony else who can, there’s a good stallion.” Aeschylus gave a nervous nod as the young stallion went back to simpering to his grandfather who eyed him humourlessly.

“Great one, please tell poor, sorry old Gormless he’s forgiven...” He gave a sycophantic smile and attempted puppy eyes.

No such luck. Alma observed the look Herod Sanguine gave his grandson. No better face of disdain and disappointment could be found but on his face.

Noticing the mood turning awkward, Blueblood turned to Honeysuckle.

“Darling Honey, intercede for me, would you? You know how I’ve been these last few-gyaaah!” He drew back with a shriek, as if struck, at the sight of the jewellery around Honeysuckle’s neck.

“Oh my gods! That’s...”

“Blueblood, that’s enough!” Gwendolyn interrupted sharply.

“But...but...” she stammered, gawking and spluttering like a throttled fish “But that’s...She’s wearing Grandmama’s Ghoran Diamond Pendant Necklace! And her Antelopian Bangles and tha-tha-that’s the dress she wore to the Royal Millennial Jubilee Ball!”

“Nithe, aren’t they?” Honeysuckle chirruped, fluttering her eyelashes, seemingly oblivious. There was a lot of ‘seemingly’ about her of late “Woddy picked them out jutht for me. I’m ever tho thwilled.”

Where Blueblood had before given his grandfather a look of fawning respect, now his look was indignant, positively outraged.

“But...Papa, you...”

“Be quiet, Gormless!” Herod thundered, silencing his grandson at last. Blueblood closed his mouth and chose to discreetly sulk out of his grandfather’s gaze as Herod drew himself up, breathed deep through his nostrils and spoke in that haughty manner of his.

“It is time we went in. Aeschylus you may serve my whiskey and soda in the dining room.” He paced over to Alma and extended a forehoof “Dear lady, allow me.”

Gingerly, uncomfortable with just how much attention she’s suddenly gotten, Alma took his foreleg in her own as Prince Herod prepared to lead her to the dining-room.

“Roddy?!” A shrill voice pierced the silence as Honeysuckle shot her host an indignant look “I haven’t had my drink.”

Alma’s brow rise in revelation.

Honeysuckle’s voice matched the one she’d heard talking in Room Juliet.

The sweet, simpering lispy voice was completely fake. Honeysuckle was now sounding a lot more domineering and a lot less happy. The break in facade didn’t seem to bother anyone but it answered several of Alma’s nagging questions.

There seemed more to Honeysuckle than met the eye.

Herod gave a short sigh and replied.

“For that you must blame he who came down late.” He shot his sulking grandson another disparaging glare and spoke to his butler “Aeschylus, will you take pity on Miss Honeysuckle? A gin and tonic, old colt, and my whiskey, please do not dawdle.”

Aeschylus nodded and trotted away while Alma walked with Prince Herod through the dining-room doors, catching sight of Honeysuckle’s peeved scowl and Blueblood’s intrigued smirk.

The table was laid with nearly every piece of cutlery and silverware a pony could ever need. Alma would never get used to it. Once this was done, she resolved, she’d need to spend some time with ponies who ate with their hooves.

Wide silver platters lined the table in flawless order and tall ornamental candlesticks illuminated the room.

Herod released her foreleg and kissed her hoof once more before standing before his spot at the head of the table, raising a hoof and allowing his kin to sit down at their respective seats.

“A trifling feast as Lord Clopulet had it.”

There was an obedient chuckle from those present. Alma smiled at the jest though not quite understanding the context of it.

Shaking-Spear was a subject that always went a bit above her head back at college.

“Nonetheless, we shall begin.” Herod said, sitting down.

Brrrrllp!

Herod shot back up startled, as if someone had struck him in the flank with a corkscrew as a rather questionable sound produced from his seat filled the room.

Alma’s face turned red with embarrassment. Honeysuckle’s eyes widened to the size of dinner-plates, Ninienne bit her lip furiously, Blueblood, Rowena and Bayard covered their mouths with handkerchiefs and Gwendolyn put a shocked hoof to her lips.

Even some of the servants stifled chuckles.

His horn lighting up a dark gold, the seething Prince Herod removed a flat, rubber, balloon-shaped object from under the cushion on his chair and threw it on the table.

“Oh Papa...how dreadful.” Ninienne fussed uncomfortably.

Gwendolyn raised her eyebrows, her expression mellowed to neutral.

“But who on Equestria could have-”

“The darling infant, that’s who.” Blueblood announced with a victorious glint in his eye that matched Ninienne’s during his own tardiness “Really, who else could it have been?”

Ninienne herself paled. Gwendolyn meanwhile gave a small sip of her wine but said nothing.

Alma saw it all unfold. Small, subtle but distinctive.

The tables had turned.

“Oh Papa, I am so sorry. She can be terribly wilful sometimes. W-w-worry not, I...I...” she caught sight of Prince Herod’s furious scowl and began stammering, much to the nearby Blueblood’s satisfaction “I shall question her sharply on the matter first thing tomorrow, I promise, a-a-and if she is responsible, she’ll receive a good spanking.”

“Or else a disinheriting.” Blueblood whispered menacingly giving a satisfied sip of his wine.

“It shouldn’t be allowed, it weally shouldn’t.” Honeysuckle tutted, the dainty lisp having returned “It’th disgwaceful, the way she behaveth.”

Prince Herod’s snarl broke the chatter.

“I am grievously displeased!” He drawled the words around his mouth, each word emphasised with clear ire “So it has come to this. How sharper than a-”

“I believe they call it a raspberry cushion.” Rowena interjected, unable to control herself, speaking to avoid laughing.

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless foal!” Herod finished in a louder and harsher tone, his face puce, clear veins risen around his brow.

“There’s no need to get so fierce, Papa. I’m sure Babbles meant it as a joke.” Ninienne pleaded. “You know she’d never mean to upset her grandfather. She’d be very sorry if she did.”

“Then let it be so without delay, Ninienne!” Herod demanded “I shall have the ingrate brought before me!”

“Papa, she’s already in bed.”

“If not out on her broomstick.” Blueblood muttered.

“Nopony asked you, Gormless!” Ninienne clucked irately.

“Can I butt in?”

All eyes turned to the nervous Alma who was about to tap her glass with a teaspoon.

Cautiously, she attempted to calm the waters.

“We don’t...actually know...for certain...that it was Babbles. I mean, I know it seems pretty obvious but you never can tell.”

Admittedly, Alma’s impression of Babbles was not terrific. Her relations extended only as far as the foal pulling a face at her on the pathway. Still, it seemed like proverbial overkill to treat what was clearly a simple practical joke so harshly, considering there was no definite proof she was responsible.

Alma had enjoyed the odd prank or two when she was younger and she knew that if her parents or teachers had reacted this way in the same situation, her foalhood would not have been quite as pleasant.

She almost felt sorry for the filly.

Above all else, the situation was becoming too awkward to handle.

“She’s right, you know.” Bayard added “Babbles never comes down to the dining-room on her own, and if she did, somepony would have seen. We shouldn’t just up and scream and rage at her at night, no telling how she’d take it.”

“Right, much better to wait until morning and sort this whole thing out calmly and sensibly.”

There was a pause. Prince Herod took a deep breath while Honeysuckle and Blueblood exchanged an odd look.

“You speak wisely, Miss Rose. I have...forgotten myself.” Herod said, calming substantially “But tomorrow morning we shall know, without fail, who is to blame for this insult. Be absolutely certain of that.”

Having said his foreboding piece, he put on another magnanimous smile.

“Let us now dine.”

As Aeschylus and the other servants removed the platter lids one by one, revealing a glamorous dish of Duck a l’Orange (A dish popular in Manehattan and attributed to the affluent Orange family) Bayard gave Alma a thankful smile, stood up carefully, propped himself up on his walking stick and spoke.

“Yes, well before we all get on with it, I just happen to have something to say that may cheer us all up.”

Rowena gave him a loving smile as the rest of the family gave him their attention.

“An arduous task, I think. What say you, Miss Rose? Shall we hear him?” Herod asked his guest in that cordial manner of his he seemed to reserve only for her.

“Uh...sure.” Alma answered as Bayard put a free forehoof on Rowena’s shoulders and declared proudly.

“Rowena and I...are going to be married.”

There was a pause.

Somepony dropped their fork with a clatter.

Ninienne’s face contorted with horror.

“Oh...Bayard.” she wailed.

“Here comes the hurricane...” Blueblood muttered, facehoofing.

Alma glanced around, puzzled. The way they were acting, one would think Bayard had just put a knife to his own throat.

The young stallion gave them an awkward look.

“So...I think congratulations might be in order?” he suggested.

Alma was about to speak when Herod’s growl could be heard, growing louder and louder as he rose with his seat like an oncoming tidal wave.

“Never...Never...Never...Never, Never!” he bellowed, raising his glass with his magic, shaking with fury, before pausing to glance at the drink, downing the afore-requested whiskey and soda, and then hurling it at the wall, shattering it soundly before storming out the room, making his way upstairs judging by the sound of stomping hooves.

“Exit King Drear...pursued by a bear.” Blueblood muttered again.

Alma sat back down, completely befuddled, as Bayard and Rowena gave each other a worried look.

Gwendolyn gave a sigh.

“You two could have handled that with considerably more tact. Do you mean to tell us that you didn’t mention this to him beforehoof, now of all times?”

“I hardly see how it concerns him.” Bayard retorted “We don’t need to 'notify' anypony. We’re in love.”

“Bayard, you are a blockhead! You should have known he wouldn’t take this well!” Blueblood snapped “Hay, I wouldn’t take this well.” He adopted a simpleton voice and expression “Hello there, papa, just to let you know, me and whats-her-face are wedding-bells an’ all, so any plans you have for the pair of us, well they’ve been kicked in the teeth something fierce, ta-ta. Brilliant! Now he’s going to summon Mr Runcible to change his will for the umpteenth time.”

“Let him.” Bayard said plainly, to the horrified gasp of his mother “What does it matter? You know he’s just going to change it back before the ink’s dried, the way you fawn about him. Personally, I think you’re all behaving very immaturely.”

“Bayard! Don’t dare speak in such a way! You’re just a foolish colt who knows nothing about these matters and now you’ve riled your poor papa to breaking point!” Ninienne bawled, clutching her temples “Oh gods, under-age and first-cousins, right before his eyes! After so much work! So this is a mother’s thanks!” Beside her, Blueblood mockingly played an imaginary violin.

“Stop that, Blueblood. You too, Ninienne, enough griping.” Gwendolyn ordered, turning to the disillusioned lovers “Bayard, Rowena. You know your papa is stressed at this time. Not content with this liaison of yours, of which you are quite a bit too young to be taking part in and which you have kept secret from your own parents up to now, you jump up in the middle of dinner with our guest and come forth with this unplanned, unprecedented and utterly spontaneous declaration and expect him to take it well? Do you know what this does to him, keeping such things from his gaze under his very roof? Do you want to turn him against his own family?”

“First of all, we’re not too young. I will be eighteen in a season and Bayard is twenty.” Rowena snapped, tears brimming around her eyes as she began quivering “Secondly, we haven’t given any offense except for the one he imagines! He’s just in another one of his tantrums because we didn’t crawl on our knees before him and humbly ask for his blessing! He’s not really upset, it’s all an act and the whole pack of you just encourage him day by day!” She glanced at Alma “You ought not to paint him as MacHeath, Miss Rose! What he really is is ploughing old King Drear! Did you hear him rant? How sharper than a serpent’s tooth? Who even says that in normal conversation?! He’s a damn megalomaniac!” She was becoming hysteric, Bayard nearby holding her shoulder.

“And as far as turning against his family’s concerned, he’s done that already!” she continued “Ever since she brought that tart into the house! That peroxide gold-digger, fifty years younger tha...”

“Rowena, dear...” Ninienne whimpered, pointing gingerly to Honeysuckle who was rising from her chair with a look of dismay, squeaking in a manner that suggested she was about to scream.

Rowena blanched, looking down, having realised her tongue and anxieties had run away with her while Blueblood readied both forehooves against his ears as the snivelling Honeysuckle opened her mouth wide.

“Graaaaaaaagggggggh!”

They jumped back startled. The scream that had escaped Honeysuckle’s lips was low-pitched, aged and most definitely different from her usual tone.

It didn’t take long to realise the scream hadn’t escaped Honeysuckle’s lips at all but had come from upstairs.

“Roddy?!” she exclaimed, the lisp gone “What the hay’s happening up there?!”

Speeding out the room and racing upstairs, Honeysuckle, swiftly followed by the rest of the Sanguines, sped upstairs and burst open the door to Room Ophelia.

Herod Sanguine was sprawled in an armchair, his morbid face looked in a stunned grimace, his forelegs hanging limp over the arms of the chair.

“Roddy!” Honeysuckle shrieked, rushing to his side. She seemed genuinely hysteric, Alma could swear there were tears in her eyes “What happened to you?! What’s happened?!”

Gwendolyn rushed over and worriedly clasped her father-in-law’s forehoof.

Alma heard Gwendolyn, Ninienne and Aeschylus take grateful sighs of relief as Herod’s foreleg rose in Gwendolyn’s hooves, signifying the old unicorn was still very much alive.

And in a very bad temper.

He was pointing at the bedroom mirror.

On it, scrawled onto the glass with a thick red substance in big bold letters was a simple but biting sentence.

GRANDFATHER IS A BORING OLD HAM

The Sanguine’s huddled close to peer at the spectacle.

“Upon my word!” Ninienne spluttered “Who in Equestria could have...”

“Twenty guesses, auntie.” Blueblood said in that imperious tone again.

“What is it? Grease Paint?” Rowena piped up.

“In this house? Of course it is.” Gwendolyn answered “Carmine stick.”

“I'm not sure about that. May I?” Alma stepped forward. An artist herself, she knew a thing or two about paint.

She plucked a loose feather on one of her wings and dabbed with it at the writing.

It left a little stain but not in a greasy way. It wasn’t so much drying as solidifying.

“No, it’s oil paint.” She concluded “Cadmium red by the look of it.”

“The shade is immaterial!” Herod Sanguine found his voice at last, hooves shaking in rage “This is the final straw! I have reached the limits of my forbearance for this bitter calumny!” He took a deep breath, through gritted teeth, and announced quieter but no less angry.

“My solicitor will be here by lunchtime. There are changes to the Sanguine heritage that demand my earnest attention.”

Author's Notes:

Well, now you've got a better look at the Sanguines and their games.
How does Prince Herod strike you?
And what do you think of Babbles' situation.
Bit of exploration on Conkers from Intriguing. You'll notice he's one of the few ponies Blueblood treats with a modicum of friendliness so he must be close.

There Will Be Shipping, I just know it.
Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.

Chapter 4

“After that, I think we were all content to call it an early night. I know I was.” Alma continued, shaking her head “I took my meal upstairs to my room to eat it in peace. There would be too much awkwardness around the dinner table, I knew it.”

Cadence and Shining themselves felt the awkwardness in the room they sat it growing rapidly. Just thinking about it was enough to make one cringe.

“But when I made my way upstairs, there was something on the banister. I almost brushed against it on my way up.”

Alma gave a small shudder.

“Red paint...I don’t remember why I thought it was blood.”

The day after the uncomfortable dinner scene, Lord Herod Sanguine seemed in better spirits, at least around Alma.

Rowena, Aeschylus and Conkers had helped move her equipment to ready in the auditorium first thing that morning, the young mare talking incessantly but refusing to bring up anything relating to the night before, evidently putting on a brave face.

“The theatre?” Alma had asked “You mean there’s one in Sanguine Hall?”

“Well, it’s not exactly the Royal Palladium but I suppose you’ve realised by now that Papa does nothing by halves.” Rowena explained “You’ll have MacHeath’s scenery, the blasted heath and all that...and if Babbles can be made to pose, you’ll even have the Bloody Child.” she muttered derisively.

As a habit, Alma preferred working in daylight but the windows sufficed. The Sanguines had spared no expense.

She’d found Herod Sanguine dressed in traditional Trottish garb, the ‘dagger he saw before him’ in his magical grasp, ready to begin.

She’d just about finished the preliminary sketch with graphite and charcoal when the old stallion gave a groan and stretched a little.

Alma looked over the easel.

“Have I tired you? Sorry.”

“No great worry, my dear. One simply grows a trifle stiff after a time”

“Then I think we’ve done enough. At least you have.” Alma put down the tools as Herod let out a grateful sigh and relaxed, holding the dagger in his hoof “Gotta’ say, you’ve been a pretty tough model. You hold position better than most young ponies.”

“I am pleased to hear it, Miss Rose” The Sanguine patriarch twiddled the dagger, flashed it in the light and grinned proudly “Do you know, I can recite the play by heart? And I dare any upstart to claim otherwise.”

“You mean MacHeath?”

“Indeed so. Since the Fall of New Raptoria, near five and twenty years past, I have reprised the role of MacHeath eleven times and always do tremendous business. It hasn’t been an unlucky play for me.” he chuckled.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that superstition. Is it true that you can’t quote from that play unless you’re in the cast or crew?”

“Or even speak its name, to be sure. It is known outside of the theatrical circles as ‘The Trottish Play’. A most significant custom.” His voice darkened in manner reserved for telling ghostly tales to foals “It is said that Prince Trymwic, the first son of my ancient ancestor Synric, seventh King of Marchion, once made ridicule of the so-called superstition of actors and dared quote a passage of the Trottish Play. Within moments, the great Trefoil Theatre went up in an almighty inferno, killing the Prince and over a hundred others and driving King Synric completely mad, gibbering and shaking, forever-open eyes contaminated by some otherworldly horror. No Sanguine has ever made light of the tradition since then.”

“I admit, the only Shaking-Spear Play I’ve seen in a while was All’s Well That Ends Well two years ago at Bridleway. And that was only because a friend of mine had a crush on Cucumber Patch.”

Herod scoffed.

“Cucumber Patch, indeed. A decent player of thrillers and follies, to be sure, but the colt lacks...majesty. I myself studied under Drury Lane himself and toured with Horson Welles in The Merry Wives of Winsomely. Mine, dear lady, is not a mere filmography but a legacy. One that lives on, long after my eventual passing.” He breathed deep and pointed to the easel “Am I to be allowed a glimpse, dear lady of the vibrant crafts?”

“Well, it’s only a kind of synopsis but it’s coming along well.” Alma turned the board round to show her model the result thus-far, a fairly well-detailed sketch of his face and most of his body.

She was pleased with it and he seemed of the same opinion, his face brightening in earnest satisfaction.

“Aha, yes, I do see it.” His eyes twinkled “I chose well indeed, Miss Rose. I look with great predilection the coming ends. Work thine spells, my muse, work thine wondrous spells. I must adieu.” And with a hearty bray of laughter, Herod Sanguine strode offstage, giving his artist a coy wink before disappearing.

Sighing, the young pegasus set about touching up the various lines and working away the smudges, dusting away the excess shade with a brush.

As she did so, a voice piped up, distinctly that of a filly’s.

“Why are you rubbing it out? Don’t you like it?”

Alma turned round.

She was back, peering round the doorway. The small, pink, plump filly in the bonnet, eying her in a manner that betrayed her overall disposition as extremely stubborn and suspicious by nature.

An archetype of a difficult foal.

“I’ve got to get rid of the leftover charcoal or it messes up the paints.” She answered, returning the suspicious glare “How long have you been hiding?”

“Ages.” the filly retorted with a dismissive sneer “I sit quiet because Auntie Gwen tells me I’m not allowed to interrupt Papa’s painting.” She stood in the doorway “I’m Babette Cliodne Tintagella Hawthorn-Sanguine.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Alma said plainly.

“You couldn’t have gathered that, because everypony calls me 'Babbles'!” the filly snapped, before trotting over to her equipment, opening a case, lost in curiosity “Are these your paints?”

“Yeah, so hooves off” Alma said, trying to be stern, while finishing her brushing.

“I’m going to paint with them.” The filly wasn’t put off.

“Not with my paints, you’re not. Buzz off, I’m working.” She was losing patience.

“You’d better let me paint with them or I’ll kill you.”

The foal, Babbles, must have thought that sounded threatening.

Sighing, Alma turned round.

“That ain’t gonna’ happen, now...”

Swift as a rat, Babbles had picked up a small tube of crimson ink paint and flicked the end of it, shooting a thin drizzle of it onto Alma’s apron, narrowly missing her foreleg.

The filly giggled. Alma scowled.

“Okay, that’s it! Gimme’ that paint back right now, missy. This is your last warning!”

“You can’t hurt me, I’ve been brought up on the system”

“Oh, are you now?” Alma snarled, not really knowing what she meant by that and honestly not caring a whole lot. Rearing up on her hind legs, balancing with her wings, she reached out and grabbed the irritating filly by the ear between both forehooves.

“Ow!” Babbles yelped, thankfully not screaming.

“There’s a shock for your ‘system’. Now put that paint down right now.”

“Let go of my ear or I’ll scream!” the filly growled, tugging pathetically in her clutch.

“I’ll scream louder if you bother me again. Put that paint down now!”

“Fine, take it, I don’t even want it!” Babbles sneered, replacing the cap and throwing it back in the box.

Alma let her go, leaving her to sulk, thankfully far from her work.

Alma returned to her work, breathing a sigh of relief things hadn’t gotten any louder. To be fair, she’d known foals who were a bigger hoof-full than this, none of whom she’d be able to pull at the ears.

“That hurt my ear, you stinker!” she growled after a pause.

“Well, I gave you fair warning, kid. It’s your own fault.”

Babbles weighed her words and gave a sly smile.

“Alright, then it's your own fault if you catch it”

Alma turned.

“Catch what?”

“Didn’t they tell you?” the filly was grinning “I’ve been sent home from school. I’ve got ringworm. Want to see?” She made to lift her bonnet.

“No!” Alma snapped, startled, checking the soles of her hooves, the irritated scowl returning upon the impertinent foal.

She sighed, rolling her eyes, finally prepared to compromise.

“Okay look...” she began “If you just leave me to finish this very important work in piece, I’ll let you borrow some spare paints and brushes and give you some paper and you can paint whatever you like.”

Babbles weighed the proposal.

“When do I get them?”

“After lunch, once I’ve finished.”

“Can’t you give them to me now?” she sulked.

“No, but I can tell your aunts who was stopping me getting on with this portrait.” Alma’s stern tone returned with her scowl.

“Alright, alright, I’ll wait ‘till after lunch but you’d better keep your promise.” The filly agreed reluctantly, hopping onto a table and dangling her back legs idly “I want lots of red. I like red. I’m going to paint flying red cows...and they’re dropping poos on stupid old Gormless.” She broke into foalish giggles as Alma rolled her eyes.

The room was then greeted to another old acquaintance. The white cat from the floor below Alma’s. Strutting into the theatre through the open door, it bounded up to Babette who brought it up on her lap and stroked it.

“This is Scaramouch.” she said “He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t like Canterlot ponies, they smell funny. That's why he doesn't like Gormless.”

“Is that the only reason?” Alma asked, disinterested, before a thought occurred.

“So, why is Gormless always in the capital, then? If the rest of you distance yourselves from it?”

“Oh that’s easy.” Babette said with a smile “He’s their hostage.”

Alma wondered if she’d heard correctly.

“A hostage?”

“That’s right. Papa told me that when the Sanguines surrendered to Princess Laurelore yeeeeeeeaaaaaars ago, they give them one hostage, a son or grandson most of the time, to prove they’ll do what they’re told. So if Papa doesn’t do what Celestia tells him to, then they’ll cut Gormless’s head off. Papa told me himself, that’s what they do with hostages. If a Sanguine starts fighting or scheming or calling himself a king again, they’ll drag stupid old Gormless outside the borders of Marchion, strap his neck to a big block, get the biggest, sharpest axe they have and cut his head off, like a big silly fish.” she grinned and whispered “But Papa tells me that they’re welcome to cut off Gormless’s head because there’s nothing in it anyway!” The filly broke into a bout of giggles, Scaramouch nearly falling off her lap.

Alma was quiet.

All the while Blueblood had been living the high life in the court of Canterlot, he’d had a knife to his neck, doomed to die if ever his family went against the wishes of the crown.

It seemed mind-boggling.

Shining and Cadence were also quiet.

“Wow...” the alicorn said at last “That sure puts things into perspective.”

“So wait, he’s free to act like he owns the place and insult just about everypony and Celestia only gives him a talking-down...but the moment his family start getting above themselves, off comes his head?” Shining snapped “How the hay does that work?!”

“Does he know about this?” Cadence asked.

“I hadn’t thought to ask him. Nopony else had said a word of it, I assumed it was a bit of a taboo subject” Alma answered “Anyway, I wanted to know something else from the foal.”

“Hang on, I thought you already had some red paint.” She gave the filly a firm look of accusation. Babette raised an eyebrow.

“The stuff you put on the banister outside my room.”

“Me?! I don’t know where your room is!” Babette snapped, affronted.

“Oh really?” Alma raised raised one eyebrow in return “And what about what was painted on your grandpa’s mirror?”

Babette tilted her head quizzically.

“What was painted on his mirror? Nopony ever told me.”

Alma was taken aback and looked the foal over.

Despite her mood, Babette seemed calm. Nothing about her screamed that she was lying in any way.

“You’re not going to tell me that it wasn’t you who put that raspberry cushion, or whatever they call it, under your grandpa’s seat at dinner? The one that made that embarrassing noise?”

“Really?!” Babette’s face lit up with wonder, happily rubbing Scaramouch’s belly “Why is it I always miss things? It isn’t fair.”

“I think it was then I knew that something was very wrong.” Alma summarised “Babbles seemed perfectly capable of telling lies but everything about her then seemed perfectly sincere. She hadn’t been playing those stupid jokes on Prince Herod.”

Cadence and Shining nodded intently.

“But if she hadn’t, who had? And why?”

“Geez, I know she’s a pain in the flanks but what kind of sicko frames a little foal?” Shining asked disgustedly.

“The kind that wants her out of the will, evidently.” Cadence answered “There’s another thing that doesn’t add up. She was meant to have been questioned about what happened at dinner that morning. If that were the case, why had nopony told her what she was being accused of?”

“Exactly. There was a plot about the place and I’m not talking the naughty kind.” Alma declared “Anyway, the day afterwards, whatshername...Aunt Cordelia arrived. The whole family was gathering as they planned.”

Cordelia Wildsmythe Buttercup-Sanguine, judging by her greying mane and stately manner, was the eldest of the Sanguine sisters. Bedecked in a plumed garden-hat and a tasselled shawl, she exited Conker’s carriage and strode along the garden path up to Sanguine Hall.

Alma turned back to her watercolours. More Cadence and Shining romantics, omitted from her story.

Things hadn’t gotten quite as saucy as she let them do in the late hours of the evening.

She prayed that nopony ever found that particular scrapbook.

“That’s not half-bad. From a book or something?”

She had company.

Honeysuckle had emerged, a fur coat hanging loosely over her shoulders as she idly puffed on a cigarette.

She wasn’t putting on the ‘showmare’ manner. Perhaps she felt she could trust her.

Alma gave her a polite smile.

“Friends of mine.”

“Wha...Get out of it, you know an alicorn?!” Honeysuckle chuckled in disbelief “What am I saying, course you do. You’re from the capital, aren’t you. There must be hordes of them strutting around.”

“No, just the one or two, contrary to popular belief, but this one’s very friendly. Haven’t you ever been to Canterlot?”

Honeysuckle sucked her teeth.

“Nah, couldn’t afford to travel before I came here and I know that if I take one step outside Marchion, the rest of the pack’ll start stirring poor old Roddy up against me again.” She glanced down the garden path and glared at the approaching Cordelia.

“Here comes Witch Number Three.” she muttered.

“You mean as in the Three Weird Sisters? From MacHeath”

“Well, not really, there’s four of ‘em.” Honeysuckle said with a shrug “The one they call Muffy hasn’t arrived yet. What’s her name...Roddy told me...oh yeah, Maeve Goneril Vortimeria Sanguine . Huh, three names. Most of us have to make do with one.” she muttered sardonically “Besides, Gwendolyn isn’t his daughter, she’s an in-law. Married the son, Lockhart, the one with that wasting disease. He was dead long before I came here. So there’s Witch One, Witch Two, Witch Three and Witch...” she trailed off, eying her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be painting Roddy at this time of day?”

“We started in the morning. Watercolour helps clear my head. And Prince Herod’s not up for posing for too long.” Alma explained.

“True that.” Honeysuckle nodded gloomily, puffing on the cigarette “He’s poorly, you know. His joints are in a bad shape and his belly’s got it worse. Can’t eat anything stronger than broth or he’s as sick as a...”

She stopped as Cordelia approached, striding primly past. She greeted Alma with a short ‘Good morning’, an imperious tone in her voice, but did nothing to acknowledge Honeysuckle who quietly fumed at the noblemare until she was several steps behind them.

“As a dog...” Honeysuckle finished, turning and yelling back at Cordelia “As a Lady Dog!”

Cordelia half-turned, eying her father’s protégé with disdain, and gave her head a curt toss but said nothing, walking on.

“You see that for ploughing manners? She’s as bad as the rest of them!” Honeysuckle grumbled “Load of dressed-up, toffee-muzzled hags, wouldn’t pause to spit on you if you were on fire! They all hate me!” She looked close to crying, stomping over the grass “Anypony would think I wanted to be stuck in this gods-forsaken rat-hole! Nothing to do and all day to do it in!”

“Are you stuck here?” Alma asked intently.

Honeysuckle seemingly had few ways to vent her frustrations and the fact that she seemingly trusted Alma with keeping them secret gave her a sense that what the mare had been through had been more arduous that most had assumed.

“Well, what else is there? I’m delicate.” the made-up mare sighed “Asthma. Ever since I was a kid. Got over the attacks but I can’t work a plough or anything like that. I thought I might go touring with the Pony Tones, see the world and all that. Except whenever I opened my mouth to sing, all the other ponies in the orchestra said they couldn’t hear themselves play.”

She tutted.

“So when Roddy took a, you know, ‘interest’ in me and asked me down here, I had to pinch myself! It was Hearths-Warming, Hearts n’ Hooves and Nightmare Night rolled into one. Never been so excited...Didn’t know what I was getting myself in for” She looked up at the towering hall in much the same dreading manner Blueblood had done on the train.

“Whatever I get out of this, I’ll have earned it.” She said darkly before turning to the flower garden “He’s the only one I feel sorry for.”

She gestured with her cigarette to Blueblood, who seemed to be choosing which rose went best in his jacket. Picking one, he jumped back with a yelp as a bee emerged from it and chased him round the patch, robbing him of a generous portion of his dignity.

The two mares held back chuckles and Honeysuckle shook her head.

“I suppose he has that...aura about him. Makes you want to change him, better him. Nopony understands him like I do. He can’t sleep most nights. He’s afraid old Roddy’s gonna’ leave all this to that stinking kid.”

“You mean Babbles?” Alma asked “I thought she’d fallen out of favour?”

Honeysuckle shrugged.

“Well, I mean, that’s her fault, isn’t it. She shouldn’t be messing around with raspberry cushions or painting on mirrors and banisters.”

Alma’s ears pricked.

She hadn’t told anypony about the paint on the banister.

Aeschylus had cleaned it off when they took the equipment down but nopony had said a thing about where it came from or who might have been responsible.

“Did Babbles tell you she’d done that?”

Honeysuckle suddenly coughed on her cigarette, her eyes nearly watering as she turned.

“Well, I-I-I mean...wh-who else could it have been? P-p-practical jokes, foal stuff, right?”

She was stammering. Something was certainly putting her on edge.

“Yeah, but when Prince Herod questioned her this morning? Did she admit it?”

The beige mare’s eyes darted about.

“Uh...Not really sure, I don’t stick around for that kind of thing. Look, I gotta’ go. It’s getting a bit chilly out here.”

And with that, she’d scampered off back the dreaded Sanguine Hall.

“Suspicious indeed.” Cadence mused, placing her forehooves together in interest.

“Maybe. But my bits are on Blueblood.” Shining added “He’s the one who pointed hooves in the first place.”

“I wasn’t sure what to think at that point.” Alma said, shrugging “Anyway, the day after that, Aunt Maeve finally arrived, along with Uncle Persnickety.” she shook her head “It was weird. All of them scampered down to greet her like hyped-up school-foals, hugging and kissing and laughing. I think Rowena was right. When Prince Herod wasn’t around, they seemed pretty friendly with each other. I honestly don’t know which part was the act and which was the truth.”

“That’s the thing about actors. You can never tell.” Cadence said knowingly.

“Yeah. Also of note, Babbles got her paints and paper as promised. Seemed pretty happy about it, kept her out of my mane at least. Before long she was showing me painting after painting of big red flying cows doing their...business...on Blueblood’s head.”

Shining burst out laughing.

“Somepony ought to put them in the Royal Gallery.” he suggested as Cadence jabbed him lightly in the side to shush him, struggling not to laugh herself.

“Yeah,” Alma chuckled “Still, the mood changed right back the next day when Mr Runcible Spoon, Prince Herod’s solicitor arrived. It was like Nightmare Moon had come. Everypony knew he was there to discuss the will and how it could be changed. The preparations for the birthday party were nearly complete and so, very nearly, was Prince Herod’s portrait.”

Alma was just touching up the details of the portrait when Blueblood, or Gormless as he was known about the hall, appeared from the stage door and tapped his hoof for attention.

“Pardon me, came to inform you the old party begs to be excused. He’s closeted with Mr Runcible.” he explained “Mummy told me that if there was anything I could do to help...” he waved a hoof nonchalantly.

Alma didn’t feel particularly comfortable around the stallion but as circumstances demanded, she complied.

“Would it be okay to stand in for him?”

Blueblood’s eyebrows rose.

“You want me to pose?”

“Well, I’m just applying the highlights to this cloak. It’s right over there, would you mind?”

Alma had expected an argument, or at least some amount of sulking, similar to Babbles in truth.

Instead, the stallion’s face brightened immensely and he nearly bounded on the spot.

“Mind? I’m in seventh paradise! I adore this sort of thing!” He snatched up the tartan cloak and swept it round him elegantly, putting one foreleg upon a model stump and striking a proud stance “Like this? Shall I be dashing?”

While Alma appreciated his enthusiasm, it wasn’t quite what he was going for. She left the easel a moment and carefully positioned him as his grandfather had placed himself. The young stallion accepted without argument.

Blueblood chuckled to himself as Alma worked at the finishing touches.

“I’ve never posed before...well, not for a portrait” He put on an accent, enjoying his character “Ach, ‘tis a braw and roilin’ tumult ah do bespy, me wee lass...heh...Trottish, you understand...Course, papa would know, him having played MacHeath however many times now...”

“Have you ever played the role?” Alma asked.

“Of MacHeath? Sadly no. The closest I ever got was playing MacDock’s son when I was a colt. As I said, I never get much luck nowadays. Last time I got a part in Shaking-Spear, I played Boreas Caesar at an Academy show...At least I think it was Boreas Caesar because all I remember is everypony else came on to stab me at the end!”

They chuckled. After a pause, Blueblood spoke quieter.

“Do you know, the house is simply seething with intrigue.” he murmured “The consensus of opinion is that the birthday boy will choose the opportunity to announce his new will this evening.”

“Are you joking?” Alma asked “You mean he announces it? Before everypony? Humiliating them?”

“Oh yes, he does it every time.” Blueblood answered, his tone darkening “He adores it.”

“Does he change his will often?”

The stallion thought a moment.

“On average, I’d say about every two years.”

“Two years?!” Alma nearly dropped her brush “But it must be terrifying for you.”

“Well of course, we’re all on tenterhooks. That’s why he enjoys it so much. I suppose it’s the only time on stage where he’s certain nopony’s falling asleep. It’s almost become a tradition, a command performance.”

There was an uneasy pause.

It seemed Prince Herod was not only suspicious about his family but positively ruthless, almost sadistic.

Between his power-games and their grasping, it was no wonder the younger generation like Rowena, Bayard, Blueblood and Babette seemed so distant from their parents. Or how Honeysuckle had become so disillusioned.

Blueblood spoke up.

“I say, do give old Bluey the teensiest look.” he pleaded “My very own private view. I won’t give anything away, promise.”

“Well alright, it should be just about finished. You can take off the cloak if you like. Here we go.” Alma put down the paints and turned the easel round.

The portrait was indeed coming to its full effect. Prince Herod Sanguine stood magnificent in the tartan garb, his grey mane dyed a ruddy ginger, the dagger before him, the look of a king upon his features as the moors of Trotland rose and fell behind him in the mist.

Blueblood’s azure eyes widened with wonder and he let out a gasp.

“Oh that is...Golly, it’s...It’s him! It’s...theatre...just like he is...” he announced, finding the right words. It heartened Alma to hear him so complimentary, she didn’t mind admitting it.

“It’s Shaking-Spear and its MacHeath and it’s...it’s him...all rolled into one...Just look at how he stares down at you...like a king...I think my knees are shaking. Oh, he will be very pleased about this, I can tell you that!”

His smile turned coy as he removed the cloak.

“Still...” he began wryly “I reckon he’s become interested in more than just your painting, oh mistress muse of colour and light.”

Alma’s smile faded.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” he chuckled “Really, you were off to a good start from the get-go. Remember that first dinner you had with us. I was very impressed, I have to say. Not in this house a full night and you already had the old colt wrapped around your hoof. ‘Truly delighted’ indeed. What’s your secret? I’d love to know your technique.”

Alma was taken aback.

“Sorry, are you implying...”

“Oh come now, Miss Rose. My Papa is many things but he’s hardly subtle.” Blueblood sighed, his eyes glinting “Maybe he’ll leave the old place to you in the end. Wouldn’t that be a hoot!”

“Wait, wait, wait right there!” It was all she could do not to clout him “Let’s be clear, I am not, in any way, attracted to your grandfather or the prospects of said attraction! Is that understood?!”

Blueblood pursed his lips.

“Not particularly. I don’t see why you won’t, at least, consider the prospect. He’s apt to treat you nicely and all this...” he waved his hoof around “could easily be yours.”

Alma gritted her teeth and let loose a confession.

“I’m not into stallions!”

At this, Blueblood shrugged.

“Figured as much. Still don’t see the harm in giving him a go.”

“Wha-”

“Look, I’m just being practical.” the stallion interrupted “Think about it. He’s not going to be around long. All you need to do is lie back and think of Celestia’s sunny flanks for a couple of nights and once you’ve got the place to yourself, who knows? You’ll probably have enough bits for all the mares in Canterlot, you lucky filly. Though you might want to keep Babbles to taste your food and drink from now on. You’ll find that Honeysuckle is not one to give up her ill-gotten gains without a fight...and she’s not the only one.”

And with a smug smirk, he left the theatre, leaving Alma quietly fuming.

“See you at dinner.”

“Okay, was he asking to get decked in the muzzle or something?!” Shining snarled “And I thought he was a pain in the flanks around the guard!”

“I admire your restraint, Alma, I always have.” Cadence said, shaking her head.

The discourtesy of Blueblood around the court was well-known yet never failed to shock and infuriate.

“Yeah, yeah, I just wanna’ put that out of my mind.” the milk-white pegasus said, massaging her temples with one hoof “Anyway, dinner was at eight, as always, I was quite happy to see Persnickety again. He just seemed impressed that I hadn’t gone insane already. He explained the routine to me.”

“First Papa will toast to the Princess’s good health then one of us will toast Papa’s.” Persnickety said in the general rhubarb of the festive dinner hall.

All the family had gathered, chattering amongst themselves.

Prince Herod, though indeed the birthday colt and the stallion of the hour, didn’t seem in particularly jovial spirits. His manner seemed distant, almost disinterested. Yet he was eating well, and drinking.

“It’s me this year. Last year, Babbles was called in to do it but what with ringworm and practical jokes, she’s been scratched.” Persnickety continued before the main course was brought forth.

He stared at the crustaceous platter before him and gave an uneasy roll of his eyes.

“I say, this can’t possibly be crayfish. Gwen?!” he sighed accusingly.

Gwendolyn looked up and looked as defensive as conduct would allow.

“Don’t blame me, Persnickety. He insisted.”

At the head of the table, Herod could be heard tutting loudly.

“Tchah! They call this rock lobster?! It’s no more a lobster than I am! Nothing more than an obscure Horsetralasian shellfish! Aeschylus, champagne. Look lively now, what ails you?!” He barked, raising his empty glass.

Cordelia shook her head, sighing, and joined in with Persnickety.

“Gwendolyn, you know what that stuff does to him, you should have put your hoof down!” she hissed.

“Cordy dear, my hoof is cracked and furrowed from being put down.” Gwen retorted, noticing Herod no longer seemed to be listening “If any one of you wishes to fetch and carry for that impossible old stallion, then you’re welcome. It would make me the happiest mare in Marchion.”

“Nonsense, Gwen, you thrive on it. The whole of Sanguine Hall knows it.” Ninienne chuckled derisively.

“Do they indeed, Ninny?” The blue mare shook her head, her polite smile never leaving her face “I gave up the theatre for him. It’s still in my blood.”

“Do you know, Gwen,” Maeve piped up, a gaudy and exuberant mare whose syrupy smile hid an acid tongue, Alma had learned in the short time she’d known her “I’ve always thought that when Gladnys Swooper left the stage, she left a gap that you could feel nicely.”

“Thank you, Muffy.”

“Good looks apart, of course” Maeve added in a whisper just loud enough for everypony to hear.

Gwen’s smile barely left her face but Alma saw.

There was hurt behind those eyes.

It had been brewing away for a while.

Persnickety sighed, eying his uncle breaking apart the crayfish and scooping the meat upon his fork. He edged over to Alma.

“Champagne and hot crayfish...You’ll hear more of this.”

“Is it very bad for him?” Alma asked.

“Catastrophic.”

Dinner continued for some time in such a fashion. Once it was done, and the servants were serving hot drinks and digestive cocktails, Prince Herod rose to toast the Princess’s good rule in a firm and magnanimous manner and after him came Persnickety who, as per tradition, toasted Prince Herod’s continued health.

“To Papa” The Sanguines stood and charged their glasses as one, unified it seemed.

“To darling Woddy!” Honeysuckle piped up in her showmare manner reserved for crowds “Here’s to juithe in his tank!”

The merriment died so fast, one would think it had been snapped off at the neck.

At last, Prince Herod rose, smiling warmly at his family.

“Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you.” he declared “There is no audience as near and as dear to an old player of parts than his own kith and kin. Bless you all.”

All those around the table smiled and gave themselves an imaginary pat on the back.

“Soon now, we shall all of us prepare for the theatre, there to see unveiled the fruits of our lovely artist, Miss Alma Rose’s mighty strivings.” he gestured grandiosely to Alma who blushed humbly as she received a generous applause.

“A likeness of myself which I may say it is my intention to present to the realm.”

“Bravo.” Blueblood piped up before Gwendolyn shushed him.

“However, before we feast on our bounty of glory and refinement, there is that which I would impart. I shall be brief...” Herod continued, breathing deeply and brushing away a tear “Forgive me...my heart is full. But it is my incomparable pleasure to announce that Miss Honeysuckle has this day done me, the immeasurable honour...”

“Oh no...” Ninienne gasped aside.

“...of consenting to be my wife.”

He marched gallantly over to the young mare’s chair, retrieved a spectacular gem-strewn ring and fitted it upon Honeysuckle’s dainty forehoof.

“Oh Woddy...” she looked near to tears as they kissed before all present.

“Oh gods help us all, this is the end!” Maeve was heard to hiss “I hope you’re happy, Gwen, now we’re all stuck with the trollop, damn it all!”

She silenced by Herod drawing himself and clearing his throat.

“Methought I didst hear the groundlings applaud.” he beckoned meaningfully, gesturing with one ear. On his instruction, Blueblood began clapping, a look of giddy excitement etched crudely into his features, followed by his mother, Mr Runcible, Persnickety and all the rest, some ecstatically rapid, others morosely slow.

“Congratulations, Papa.” Blueblood cheered “Both of you, congratulations, you lucky young things! Bravo!”

“I thank you all.” Herod said, silencing them once more. “I am...moved.

His eyes twinkled in an almost predatory manner as he surveyed the table and spoke again.

“And now I come to the reason for the good Mr Runcible to grace our festive board.”

His solicitor, a gaunt but trim earth pony with a silver coat and mane, adjusted his spectacles and nodded respectfully as Herod continued, his voice growing louder and more accusing.

“Of late, I have been treated with disrespect, nay with contumely.” An icy chill gripped the room at his words “My goodness has been repaid with the basest insult! All of you here do know me. All of you here do know that those who love me not, I do not love.”

Several small gulps were heard in the moment’s silence as the crown gave several uncomfortable pauses.

“It was my intention to request Mr Runcible to draw up anew my last will and testament...And yet my having won the heart of Miss Honeysuckle has caused resurgence within this bosom of the milk of divine forgiveness...I have been merciful.”

He smiled haughtily and gestured to the silver stallion.

“I will now ask Mr Runcible to read the terms of my new will.” And with that, he at last sat down.

Mr Runcible Spoon stood, held up a set of sheets and began his own prose.

“With your kind permission.” his voice largely lacked humour and gentleness but not politeness by any means “I, Herod Bludric Sanguine, Prince of Marchion and all under its most ancient domain, being of sound mind do declare this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all wills drawn and declared prior...”

If the will had been a Theatrical Play, it would have run forever but it received warm reviews. It provided for handsome bit legacies for Gwendolyn and Herod’s three daughters, allowed Rowena and Bayard to pursue careers, investments and relationships of their own choosing, funded the remainder of Babette’s upbringing and education and the residue of the Sanguine estate divided equally among the Prince’s nephew Persnickety, his grandson Blueblood (Named as such in the will to his surprise) and his wife Honeysuckle.

Nopony had cause for complaint and each one breathed grateful sighs of relief after hearing their names read out one by one.

Finally, once the will had been read and signed for all to see, the family trooped in unison to the theatre for the unveiling.

“For you, Miss Rose, the place of honour.” Prince Herod announced, smiling brighter than ever, gesturing to the front row seat as the Sanguines funnelled in one by one. He gestured across the corner of the room.

“Blueblood, my boy, if you would be so kind.”

“Absolutely, Papa, I’m ready on your command!” the young stallion said joyfully, shivering with anticipation as he pawed at the curtain switch.

Herod chuckled and stood before his kin like the old actor he was.

“The moment...is nigh...” he baited them, prompting hearty laughter as he begun yet another speech.

“An actor may move his audience to laughter or to tears, to terror or to anger. What he must not do is tantalize them!”

“Hear-hear!” Blueblood called out.

“So let it be now, the readiness is all. House-lights please, Blueblood!”

His grandson switched them, the room dimming, the excitement near to burst through the roof.

“And curtain!”

It rose on the Prince’s command, the portrait unveiled inch by inch.

As it finally displayed itself at its full length and height, the curtain disappearing into the canopy above, an almighty gasp filled the ears of all those seated, many indeed now standing.

Prince Herod let out something between a gasp and a groan and doubled-up, falling on his knees and panting, his face slowly turning puce, looking older and less healthy than ever before.

Painted crudely above MacHeath’s head was a big red flying cow in the process of defecation.

“Oh my...Miss Rose, I am so sorry.” Gwendolyn began, her face white.

“Don’t worry, if everypony can stay calm, let me just check.” Alma got up, removing a painting sponge from underneath her shawl “The paint should still be wet, if you just give me a moment, it’ll come straight off.”

It was the work of a moment to wipe it away. It was indeed still wet and very thinly spread.

Had it been oil paint as had been used on the mirror, it would be a very different story.

Persnickety came up and helped her, drying it off with a handkerchief. Once it was done, there was little to nothing that suggested anything had been out of order.

“There we go, everypony.” Alma declared “Panic averted. Good as new. Just a mild inconvenience.”

There was a collection of relieved sighs from several Sanguines. Prince Herod however, was not in any way relieved.

“Mild...MILD I HEAR?!” he roared, before wheezing hoarsely, Honeysuckle pawing at his shoulder with care “I demand to know the author of his outrage!”

“Well it wasn’t Babette!” Ninienne cried before the hoof could be pointed, standing up and demanding the attention of the crowd “She’s been in bed since seven! The medicine she takes makes her sleep like a log! I put her to bed myself! Bayard was there, Dr Caraway was there, no fewer than three servants were there, the foal could not possibly have done it!”

“She’th been painting cows for dayth, I’ve theen her. We’ve all theen her” Honeysuckle countered snidely.

Glaring at her new mother-in-law with abject loathing, Ninienne bellowed back, fire in her eyes.

“Then she must have doing your portrait!!!”

Honeysuckle shot out of her seat, speechless for a moment, then squawked at full volume.

“R-R-Roddy, d-did you hear that?! Did you?! That nag just called me a cow! She called me a cow!”

Herod seemed to have no more thirst for melodramatics. He rose unsteadily to his hooves, hung his head and spoke almost sulkily.

“I believe I shall go to bed.”

Honeysuckle stared, startled.

“You mean you’re just going to stand there and let me be insul-”

“Enough! I am incensed!” he hollered, snuffing the ire straight out of his new wife who shrunk back, near terrified. The old stallion caught his breath, his gaze meeting nopony.

“Indeed I am unwell...Leave me...I am going alone...”

And without another word, he trudged out of the theatre doors, leaving the stunned family in silence.

With tears in her eyes, Honeysuckle looked about, finding only looks of disdain or discomfort and fled in turn, the beginnings of sobs escaping her.

Out the corner of her eye, Alma Rose caught sight of Blueblood, a victorious smirk on his face.

“We went to bed soon after, barely a word between each other...Then the next morning, Aeschylus summoned the household and regretfully announced he’d found the old stallion dead, lurched over the bed, having failed to summon the servants for aid. The stress of the night’s ordeals finally finished him off.”

Alma finally finished her drink, sighed and sat back in her chair, Shining and Cadence’s looks of shock slowly settling upon their visages.

“I didn’t stay long after that. My work was done...and I’d have gone either way. Also, I was an outsider in a house of mourning, by definition at any rate. The hearse came for him as I left. A service of undertakers...and embalmers”

Cadence sat back in turn, her hoof stroking her lip in thought.

“Sounds like a MacHeath quote is called for.” she said grimly.

“Can’t bring us any more bad luck than we already have.” Shining said shrugging.

The alicorn looked down and quoted Lady MacHeath’s famous show of regret.

“Who would have thought the old steed to have so much blood in him...”

Author's Notes:

So ends the tale of Herod Sanguine.
WHODUNNIT?!

I kind of like writing Blueblood for the same reason I like writing the Countess and Nitpick. There's something inherently fun about writing characters that are absolute sacks-of-curd.
I feel like Blueblood's slightly different. I don't think he means to be rude or insensitive, he's just so full of himself that he doesn't notice.
I don't know if that makes him better or worse.

Very glad the flashback's over. Writing in entirely italics was a bugger!

Chapter 5

Lady Mi Amore Cadenza found the Chairstallion of the Royal Canterlot City Council on the orb in his study, embroiled in a stern conversation.

“There will be no more debate on the matter, Miss Primrose. The Lord Magistrate will not be sitting at this council for the duration of these investigations.” he declared “You know his influence will throw credibility straight to the four winds. The stallion was involved in a sexual assault. We’re still uncertain whether or not she was underage!”

“Yes, yes, I do understand, sir, but we can’t just have him watched like a hawk. This isn’t Bayjing. No matter what he’s done, to treat him in this way would be an invasion of privacy.” a fussy-sounding mare replied through the orb “That wouldn’t look good for any of us. He’d use that to his advantage, as long as he had the bits to turn eyes towards us.”

The Chairstallion rubbed his hoof below his ear in thought.

“You make a point. Leave it with me but above all else, keep him out of that council hall. By any means necessary.”

“I’ll do what I can but I’m not touching him.”

“Duly noted and entirely understood. Good luck, old thing.”

The golden mist in the orb dissipating, Fancypants looked up as Cadence made her entrance.

Cadence hadn’t known the Chairstallion long but she had great respect for him. Young for his title, despite his appearance, he’d done sterling work at combating poverty, crime, corruption and all kinds of perils Canterlot had suffered from. So unlike some of the rich snobs she was used to seeing, Fancypants defied the stereotype for all it was worth and set an example for all.

He’d helped her more than several times over the past in one way or another and Cadence was adamant that he was a stallion worth trusting.

Whether he was quite as intrepid as she hoped was about to tell. Ordinarily, she would have asked the Princess but, as miraculously wonderful as she was, Celestia had an unfortunate habit of mothering her, not wanting her to experience the horrors of corruption and misdemeanour outside of her day-to-day life.

Fancypants meanwhile was more open to her experiencing, and better still combating, the unseen evils a Princess would one day ward off from her subjects.

Celestia wouldn’t object to her decision but Cadence knew she would find a way to discourage her in some way. And she wasn’t about to let Alma down.

“Ah, my lady. Apologies, otherwise embroiled in the grand venture of politics.” Fancypants stood and bowed “Miss Inkwell said you wished to see me. Something about wanting permission to investigate a murder in the outskirts.”

“Well, when you put it like it sounds really over-the-top.” Cadence said uneasily, sitting down to give the gentlecolt the whole story.

Fancypants had sat quietly throughout, his chin resting on one hoof, the eyebrow above his monocle raised in an evaluating manner.

“Practical jokes, you say?” he said at last.

“Yep.” Cadence replied.

“Defecating cows?” He hadn’t managed to say it without sounding awkward.

“Just the one.”

“A centuries-old book on embalming and a missing bottle of rat poison?” he put his hooves together, his face serious “Rather thin, wouldn’t you say?”

Cadence sighed.

In truth, she hadn’t really looked at how sparse the story and its superstitions seemed when faced with the big picture.

Sitting before the Chairstallion, she felt more than a little silly.

“Yeah, pretty thin.” she admitted.

“Hardly enough to justify going down to Sanguine Hall and muddying the waters.”

Relations between Equestria and its vassal states were largely the Princess’s job but if the Chairstallion was involved, he would have to act with prudence. There was reason in what he was suggesting.

Still, Cadence shifted impatiently.

“Well, it’s just that...” she trailed off.

“Yes?” Fancypants prompted.

“Well, Alma Rose isn’t exactly a ‘fanciful’ mare. Exuberant, sure, but she wouldn’t jump to conclusions unless something was seriously off.” Cadence explained “I’m inclined to believe her if she says there’s foul play ahoof.”

“Is she...imaginative?”

“Well, naturally. She’s an artist and a good one too.” Cadence straightened up, finding strength of will in this debate.

Her friend’s credibility was on the line and it was up to her to defend it.

“But if you mean ‘impressionable’, Mr Chairstallion, I’d have to say no.”

Fancypants raised one eyebrow and removed himself from his chair.

“Capital. Then without intending any offence to either of you, my lady, perhaps you or Miss Rose can account for this.” he declared, pacing over to the desk and retrieving a newspaper “Have you seen this morning’s Gazette, my lady?”

“Not yet, no. I was in a bit of a rush.”

“Well then...” Fancy found the right page and guarded it momentarily from the alicorn “According to you, or rather according to Miss Alma Rose, Prince Herod made a will dividing his estate more or less equally among all his family, with a share going to this young bride of his, Miss Honeysuckle.”

“He made that announcement, yes.” Cadence said, ears pricking with curiosity as Fancypants smiled grimly.

“Then he’s been playing them all for fools.” he said, slapping the paper down on his desk “According to the Gazette, Miss Honeysuckle gets the lot!”

“What?!” Cadence exclaimed, grabbing the paper and turning to the page Fancy had hidden from her.

There it was, in big bold letters on the Social Column.

Actress Inherits Family Fortune

“Give or take a hundred bits or so.” Fancypants continued “Seems he stabbed his family in the eye. Not quite equal shares all round now it seems.”

“But that can’t be right!” Cadence was almost rendered speechless. It simply didn’t make sense.

Fancypants sat back down and spoke.

“My lady...at the birthday dinner, Miss Alma Rose couldn’t have...” he brushed the air uncomfortably “...misheard?”

“Absolutely not, sir. She was certain. And well-detailed. Why would she imagine it? Or make it up?”

The gentlecolt polished his monocle and gave her an uncertain look.

“Sir?” Cadence groaned pleadingly.

As a Royal Lady of Canterlot, Court Representative and former student of Celestia, Cadence and Fancypants were pretty even in their level of authority. But nonetheless, she would need the Chairstallion’s permission to look into matters of investigating the possible murder of nobles and he didn’t seem to be ready to cooperate.

“Now look, my lady, I’m sorry to seem like an unreasonable old buffer but I just don’t see any reason why haring off down to Sanguine Hall would be well-advised.” he sighed, his tone frank and firm “I understand your concern but let’s look at the facts here before we do anything drastic. Herod Sanguine was seventy-five and not in a good way even for his age. As far as anypony can tell, he ate and drank what he shouldn’t have done, he was warned what would happen and it did. He conked out, dead and...Has he been buried?”

“I think so.”

“Righto. Then we’ve little grounds for an autopsy." He sat back in his chair "So let’s leave this one to rest, eh? No need to make the Sanguines any more distressed than they already are.”

Cadence gave a dry chuckle.

“From what I’ve heard, sir, I don’t think they’ll be wearing black for all that long.”

“Well quite. I was more thinking of the will.”

Before anypony could rise, there was a tapping on the door.

“Come in.” Fancypants bid the unseen pony who entered in the form of Sergeant Shining Armour.

He saluted and spoke.

“Apologies for interrupting, Mister Chairstallion, milady, but I wondered if it was in either of your interests to know that Sir Persnickety Sanguine just in touch?”

There was a pause.

“Oh?” Fancypants mused, his brow rising again “Continue, old chap.”

Cadence beamed at him. There were times when she owed the stallion he dignity and credibility. In the admittedly short time she’d known him, he’d developed a reputation for appearing seemingly out of thin air in the perfect place at the perfect time with the perfect device to make her day.

She could kiss him for it more times than she could count. One day the right moment would come.

“According to him, there’ve been letters, anonymous, all in the same form and style and addressed to all members of the family, hinting at foul play with regards to the late Prince Herod’s death.”

Cadence turned expectedly to Fancypants who was playing with his mustachios in thought.

He sighed and spoke.

“Oh very well...I suppose I’d have to send somepony round eventually.” he managed a resigned smile “Alright you two, look into what you wish but for all our sakes, make sure to act with tact and subtlety.”

*

Cadence looked at the scraps of paper in her grasp as she, Shining and Persnickety stood in the flat the entrepreneur had been staying in. A small but luxurious suite situated close to the city border. Easy to get off from the train and straight to the place of business. Persnickety was certainly a practical-minded stallion and while used to the rich life, didn’t live excessively.

There were nine in total. All looked the same as Shining had said, down to the paper and ink.

“Care to read it?” Persnickety said, grim-faced and seemingly short on patience.

Cadence opened one up and read it aloud.

“Prince Herod Sanguine’s death was brought about by the pony who’s received the most benefit from it...curious.” She looked up “Any envelopes?”

“We threw them away, sorry. But they were nothing special. We’ve seen their like at the local mail office bare feet from Sanguine Hall.”

“So this was done by a local?”

The white stallion shrugged.

“Can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be.”

“And the recipients?”

“Well, they came at around breakfast-time yesterday, Aeschylus passed them round...Let’s see.” he thought back “Gwen got one...and Ninny, Cordy and Muffy...Gormless, or Prince Blueblood as he’s calling himself now, mustn’t leave him out...nor myself of course...and the young couple, Rowena and Bayard...Oh, and Babbles but Ninny took it away from her. The filly was already busy with the cat.” He shuffled on his hooves.

Cadence pursed her lips and asked what she’d been expecting answered soon.

“But not Miss Honeysuckle?”

“No, not Miss Honeysuckle.” Persnickety’s tone turned even grimmer “That’s why, for once in their lives, the family are in agreement.”

“You mean, that she’s the one referred to in the letters?”

“That does seem to be the case, does it not?” he finished with a smile.

Cadence weighed his words and gave Shining a look.

“What do you make of them, Sergeant?”

Shining Armour gave her a puzzled look. Princess Cadence was getting into the ‘detective’ act a little too enthusiastically.

He shuffled the letters and hummed.

“Well...I haven’t had my morning coffee yet so I’m a bit out of it, my lady, but let’s see...All written by hoof...Fairly good quality paper but nothing fancy...The writer’s deliberately put it in block capitals, probably to avoid anypony recognising the hoof-writing. That’s how I’d do it at least. They’ve been careful, I’ll say that.”

Cadence nodded and patted him on the head.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” She took back and deposited the letters and turned back to Persnickety.

“Mr Persnickety, potentially personal question but do you prescribe to your family’s...dubious opinions on Miss Honeysuckle.”

Persnickety gave a look of distaste and spoke in a brusque manner.

“You mean ‘Do I think she murdered Papa?’”

Cadence and Shining was taken aback by his frankness, something he was clearly intending on.

“There, it’s been said, out-loud that is. Unlike some members of my family, I choose not to hide behind false courtesy.” He sighed before continuing “And to answer your question...I didn’t at first.”

“And now?”

Persnickety smiled again.

“Well, I suppose it’s time for what the Prench call the coup-de-theatre.” he sat down and recanted.

“After the letters came, the atmosphere got a bit fraught. Before any hooves could be pointed, Miss Honeysuckle up and said that she’d rather die driving in the rain that put up with our loathsomeness a moment longer. Of course, whenever there is a dramatic occasion, you may depend on the Sanguines to rise to it. Nopony cared to openly suggest that she’d put poison in Papa’s hot drink before bedtime, a custom of his she’d familiarised herself with...but it did seem wasteful, given that she was out of the house, for us not to indulge a little curiosity.”

“You all searched her room.” Cadence guessed.

“Well, I didn’t do much searching myself, I lack the family inquisitiveness. Besides, I wasn’t sure what exactly it was we were looking for. Honeysuckle didn’t get where she is now by using her brains, for certain, but she was hardly likely to leave a bloody knife in her drawers. Though, personally, I think Gormless just fancied a leaf through her undergarments. It went on for about half an hour, I was about to call it in when suddenly there’s a shrill cry of victory from the en-suite bathroom. A sure sign that Muffy had found something.”

“And what did she find?” Shining Armour asked.

To answer, Persnickety paced over, almost theatrically, ever a Sanguine, and pulled out a drawer behind his desk. His horn glowed dark purple as he showed up a small pale bottle with a bold red X criss-crossed over the label.

“It’s the rat poison.” he answered darkly “The one nopony could find.”

Cadence and Shining made their way out of the suite. Checking to find the receptionist was on a break, they conversed.

“So, do I get an arrest warrant, or send this to the lab colts first?” Shining asked, gesturing with the rat poison.

“Neither.” Cadence answered “All we know for certain is that this isn’t what killed Prince Herod Sanguine.”

“What?” the stallion was taken aback “How? It must have been.”

“I think you’re wrong there, Sergeant. Look closely” Cadence took the bottle in her magic and held it up before him, spinning it slowly.

Shining Armour squinted his eyes, hoping to find a clue that had escaped him.

“Wait.” He took it in one hoof and eyed the label.

It overlapped the lid perfectly.

“It hasn’t been used!” he exclaimed “The sealing’s broken but the label isn’t torn. This has never been opened.”

“Which means...” Cadence prompted.

“Somepony else is framing Honeysuckle! She never murdered Prince Herod at all.”

“Let’s not go that far. All we know is that this wasn’t what killed him. There could be something else and it could still have been Honeysuckle. But we’re not going to know anything for sure until we go to Sanguine Hall in person.”

“My lady? Sergeant?” There was a holler from back up the stairs they’d descended.

Cadence glanced around and whispered.

“You talk to him. Tell him nothing.”

“Wh-what?” Shining barely had time to register before Cadence had dashed out the door as Persnickety trotted down the stairs, looking about sheepishly.

“Blast, I’ve just missed her.” he cursed.

“Can I help?” Shining found himself asking, still a bit nonplussed.

Persnickety gave him a look and explained.

“Well, it occurred to me that, in the case of Papa, is there likely to be a...” he faltered “Well, you know...are there going to want to go rummaging around in the family vault?”

“Er...hard to say at this stage, sir.”

“No, what I mean is you’d want to look inside him for signs of poisoning.”

Shining’s eyebrow raised.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Persnickety sighed in resignation.

“No, no, you don’t see what I’m driving at...Well after all, how could you?” His lips twisted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words “How shall I put it? Would it matter to you...Would it make this investigation, if it takes place, that much harder to know that we’ve had the body...embalmed?”

Shining gave a look and answered.

“As I said, hard to say. Leave it with us, Sir Persnickety. We’ll keep in touch. I’ll let her ladyship know everything.”

“Very well. Thank you all the same. I must be off.”

And with that, the monocled white stallion left, tipping his top hat.

Giving a weighty sigh, Shining looked about for Cadence, who seemingly appeared out of thin air and beamed at him.

“Well done, Shiney, that was brilliant!”

“Wh-wh-where were you?!” the Sergeant was too confused to string sentences “Why did you vanish?!”

“He was about to give away vital information. I had to be certain he’d give you the truth.”

“But why me?”

Cadence gave an embarrassed look and answered.

“On investigations like these, one must trust nopony and suspect everypony involved in the case. They in turn, will suspect and distrust us. But you have a certain...atmosphere that makes suspects relaxed around you. They don’t fear giving away information that could potentially doom them to somepony of your...” she waved a hoof “...mellow demeanour.”

Shining scowled.

“You mean other ponies think I’m stupid and that makes them feel safe.”

“Well...Yeah. But you know what?” Cadence ruffled his deep-blue mane and smiled tenderly “You always prove them wrong. Because, thanks to you, we know something absolutely crucial to this investigation.”

The Sergeant’s cheeks grew as red as a pair of ripening plums as he blathered.

“Great...Thanks...What’s that then?”

“Come on, Shiney, you can work it out. The body’s been embalmed. Do you know what they use in embalming, traditionally?”

Shining had a thought.

“Bandages?”

“Arsenic!” Cadence answered excitedly “They use it as an embalming fluid, at least in the outskirts. And its also the main ingredient in rat poison, this one anyway.” She gestured with the bottle “And what was in that book Alma found that Honeysuckle had been reading?”

“...The Art of the Embalmer!” Shining exclaimed before giving another puzzled look.

“So wait, did she do it or didn’t she?”

“We don’t know but we certainly know how that book fits in at last. Now, I need to find Mr Runcible, the solicitor. Find out about this will.”

“So are you going to Marchion?”

“No, Ponyville.”

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow.

“Ponyville? How do you know he lives there? It doesn’t sound like there’d be much interest for a stallion like him.”

“Runcible Spoon is a member of the Silver family, Shining. The Silvers are a family that were prominent in Canterlot, had that cutlery business and something about hunting Vamponies, but during the financial crisis years ago, they had to relocate to Ponyville. I found out about it from Octavia, she’s a relation of theirs. Ponyville’s where she met her marefriend.”

“You’re...very well informed.” Shining felt flustered at his lady’s wit.

“It helps to be. You see if you can get us a way to Marchion. It shouldn’t be hard. But remember, just say you’re looking for the one who wrote the letters, nothing else. And see if you can find the name of the Embalmers. Catch you later!”

And, full of vigour and giddy with inquisitiveness, Cadence set off on the trail.

The second Argentine Manor, though an ostentatious sight in Ponyville, was nowhere near as high and grand as the first, that having been sold and redeveloped into a mall a decade ago. All the staff had been convinced to stay on, however, including the massive light-blue bodyguard and chauffeur, Sticker Shock, recognisable by his eye-patch.

Letting in the alicorn without a word, she found Runcible Spoon in the downstairs living-room, seemingly in the midst of family lessons with a small grey filly, barely older than a foal, with a silver ponytail, large spectacles and a stuffed toy fox over her shoulder. She was scribbling away at a small notepad as she and Runcible sat in opposite armchairs by the fireplace.

“And then if I take another two jobs both at forty-eight bits an hour. One court case lasts three hours, the other lasts eight hours. The three-hour court case is lost, so I only get half but the eight hour court case is won. What do I have?”

“I’m just trying to add it all up..." the filly mumbled, scribbling sums "So why do you only charge forty-eight, uncle? Why not just fifty?"

“Ah! That, Silvy, is another one of the little tricks of business.” the old stallion tapped the side of his head with his hoof and smiled “Never ask for a big round figure, always go just below it. It sounds like an awful lot less but it isn’t.”

A slim, graceful and slightly more blue mare appeared, her silver mane done up in a bun, and chuckled.

“Really, Runcible. Little Silvy will probably find out about this at Cheerilee’s later on.”

“Hah! I still don’t know why you think learning under a tarty little grad-student and hanging around with those unwashed little scabs is going to be good for your filly, Sonnet.” Runcible huffed.

“Well, we all need to economise. In this day and age, we can’t all afford to be home-tutored. And I think it’ll be good for her.” She at last, noticed the alicorn in the doorway, taken aback by the sudden appearance.

“Can I speak with Mr Runcible, please?” she asked before anypony could roll out an unnecessary red carpet.

“Is there a problem, my lady?” the stallion asked, adjusting his spectacles.

“I’m investigating into the incident at Sanguine Hall. We heard about the will and...” she thought of an excuse “Chairstallion Fancypants wants to know where this leaves Marchion and its princedom.”

“Ah, very well. I’ll just be a moment, Silvy, you work on those sums.” He chuckled, ruffling his niece’s mane fondly, and took Cadence up to his study where he began his explanation.

“There is no puzzle, my lady. Based on rough drafts, prepared by Prince Herod, I drew up two separate wills.”

“Two?” Cadence asked “Strange.”

“Perhaps.” Runcible shrugged “Or perhaps not in the case of a stallion in two minds.”

“Are you saying Prince Herod was schizophrenic?”

“Nothing quite so serious, at least as far as Dr Caraway diagnosed. But Prince Herod was rather fickle-minded, around his family at least. I did not know his grace well but I knew him to be rather capricious. Wilful in his old age, sometimes distressingly so. Perhaps this was all an act until the end but all I was made entirely aware of was that he was...uncertain as to the merits of his immediate family. Are you a gambling pony, my lady, without any offence or suspicion intended?”

“It’s fine. And not really, no.” Cadence said, having never really thought about the question.

“Well, Prince Herod hedged his bets, preparing for both cases of his family either earning his approval or not so much. One of the wills was signed and witnessed before the dinner. I quoted its provisions in front of the family. Later that night, he destroyed it.”

“Because of what happened to the portrait?”

Runcible sat back in his chair.

“So you’re aware of what happened?”

“Yeah, there was something in the paper.” Cadence said quickly. A lie but she was still hesitant to bring Alma into this until certain that Runcible was not a suspect in the murder.

“I see.” he seemed content and continued “Yes, a foalish prank culminated in the vandalism of the portrait. While not unsalvageable, it was, to his grace, the straw that broke the camel’s back, no offence intended towards any camels of course. He sent for me later that night. I found him greatly perturbed. He burned the will, the first one, there and then in the bedroom hearth. Then, at his insistence, I sent the butler to fetch a Mr Scathecraw, one of the gardening staff, and his wife. They were witnesses to the second will.”

“Which left it all to Miss Honeysuckle?”

“Indeed. But that wasn’t quite all. There were several...requests in the will.”

“Requests?” Cadence repeated “What kind? We need to know.”

“Well, this information was to be kept confidential but...I suppose in such circumstances...” Runcible trailed off, before producing a few of the drafts from his desk “According to this second will...let’s see here. The nephew, Persnickety, is to no longer receive the family allowance and must from here on, donate a third of his company’s profit to Sanguine Hall until the debt is gathered from between now and the year he left Sanguine Hall whilst still receiving the allowance. His daughters, Miss Ninienne and Miss Cordelia, will henceforth retire to their respective husband’s estates. His daughter-in-law, Miss Gwendolyn, will leave for her original family’s estate; her parents were fishers living outside Baltimare. His youngest daughter, Miss Maeve, and his eldest grand-daughter, Miss Rowena, will each choose a husband from his old acting colleagues within the year or be sent to a convent. His youngest grand-son, Mr Bayard, will take up work in the local amateur production group. His youngest grand-daughter, Miss Babette, will be sent to a boarding school in Slovenly for the remainder of her foalhood and early adolescence.” As he reached the final draft, he gave a smile of faux-sympathy “Oh, and his eldest grand-son and heir, Mr Gormless, will take up work with the Royal Auxiliary Guard in Chilblain Peak Outpost in the Frozen North...I suppose one can easily understand why they’re all rather...concerned.”

Cadence was speechless as she looked the drafts over.

This wasn’t just a show of disapproval on Prince Herod’s past, this was a spit in the face to his entire family. It went beyond just leaving them with nothing, he’d piled on something worse. Each provision was designed to spite the individual as far as possible. Even Ninienne and Cordelia, sent to their husband’s household, would now have to watch their children stuck in a loathsome career or married off to stallions near as old as Herod himself. There had been no doubt that Herod was angry and accusing with his family but nowhere near this much.

A trip to Sanguine Hall was of the utmost importance. And she had a feeling she’d be more welcome than previously assumed if she was there to help them contest the will.

*

On the very same train that Alma had taken weeks before, Cadence and Shining Armour made their journey to Marchion, telling Alma all on the small portable orb Cadence had brought.

“It all sounds pretty deep, sorry to miss out.” Alma chuckled.

“I’m just sorry you’ve been roped into all this, we’ll make sure you’re kept safe.” Cadence assured her friend.

“No trouble, you kids have fun, it’ll be a great bonding experience.” the bubbly pegasus said before disappearing.

Cadence and Shining gave each other a look as the train came to a stop at last.

The services around the train station looked rather Equestrian. Of course, Marchion probably hadn’t wanted the train in the first place but even discounting their prickly, snobbish stereotypes, it seemed unlikely they’d seen much use in candy stalls, pet shops and the like. While Cadence checked the map, Shining passed by the window in a toy store.

“My lady, could you have a look at this?”

“Maybe for your birthday, Shiney.” Cadence said cheekily.

“Very funny.” he sighed, humourless “Just look, I’ve found something.”

Turning to the window, the mare followed Shining’s direction and saw it, just between the clockwork false teeth and the rubber chickens.

A selection of raspberry cushions.

“Very perceptive, Sergeant.” she said, impressed “Shall we see who gets to investigate?” She forked a gold bit out of her hoof-bag “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.”

She tossed it in the air and caught on on the sole of her hoof.

“Heads.” She held out a hoof and grinned “In you go. Let’s see the master at work.”

Shining gave a startled expression, having assumed it would be the loser who went in, but stepped inside, trying not to grumble.

In truth, he knew that the way Cadence played with him was nothing malicious. If anything, it showed how comfortable she felt around him. She’d probably picked up the habit from babysitting Twilight. But, as it was with Twilight, it could at times get rather degrading.

The door rang a bell and a pudgy but beaming orange stallion in a fluffy red clown wig emerged.

“Welcome to Gingernut’s Joke Shop, sir. Looking for something in particular?”

Shining gave a moment’s thought, recollecting Alma’s story and picking out a suitable guise.

“Yeah, I’m looking for something to cheer up a little filly who’s been quite ill for a while.” he said “Proper scamp when she’s well. Says she’s looking to play a joke on her Doctor...Caraway, she told me. Dr Caraway. I noticed the raspberry cushions, I think that’ll do nicely.” He hoped he’d got the name right.

“Ooh, that Caraway. Doubt he’ll appreciate that. Suffers from a lack of humour, that one.” Gingernut winced, waddling over to the stand, owing to wearing swimming flippers on each hoof “But isn’t it a small world. I sold one of these, barely a couple of weeks ago, and that was also to a little filly who’d been ill.”

“No kidding.” Shining was getting somewhere “This one’s up at the big house.”

“Sanguine Hall?”

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Bayard’s. From the guard. It’s his little sister.” He was impressed with his own ability to lie.

Gingernut hooted with laughter.

“Well, if that’s the case, Babbles, they call her, and she is a scamp, you’re right there...I’m afraid to say she already has one.”

“Ah. That’s a bit of a bummer.” Shining could feel himself getting closer to the truth. He was actually feeling pretty good about this, the thought of impressing Cadence so much.

“Oh well. A foal can never have too many raspberry cushions. I’ll take one anyway. That’s Caraway’s problem, not mine.”

“Very well, sir. They’re seven bits each.”

Shining forked over the coin, wondering if Cadence would find it in her heart to pay him back, and went for the final shot.

“Hold on, Babbles has been stuck at home since she caught the ringworm. You aren’t telling me the little pest sneaked out, came here and brought it for herself are you?”

“Oh goodness, no. It was her aunt.” Gingernut explained “Her new aunt...or should that be her new grand-mother? Poor kid’s gonna’ grow up terribly confused.”

Shining resisted punching the air until he was out of the shop where Cadence was waiting.

“You were right, Cadey! Honeysuckle was the one who was framing Babbles! She bought the raspberry cushion just a few days before Alma arrived!”

Cadence gave a triumphant bray of laughter and gripped bodyguard’s shoulders in an almighty hug.

“You ace!” she cried “We’re on the trail! I knew I could rely on you, Shiney.”

Shining felt the pride and other warm feelings wash over him, blushing more than ever, weak in the fetlocks.

It had been worth it.

Finding Sanguine Hall was no difficulty and walking the way was fairly leisurely, the countryside proving a very pleasant atmosphere. Cadence couldn’t help but find somewhat...romantic.

Before she could fully wrap her foreleg around Shining’s, she found a small pink filly in a bonnet in the garden just outside the house. She was kneeling over a small mound of dirt that she’d placed a stick in front of from which hung a small note.

Her eyes were red, her cheeks moist and she was constantly wiping her nose with her forehoof as she sniffed.

Carefully pacing over, Cadence read the note.

Here Lies Scaramouch

Rest In Piece

Have A Nice Time In Kitty Paradise

I’ll Always Miss You

Love From Babette

The alicorn held a hoof before her mouth in sympathy.

It was never easy for a foal to experience death in a creature they’d raised themselves. Somehow, a pet dying always felt so sudden. Like one couldn’t quite say goodbye to it in the same way as a pony.

Gently kneeling down, she spoke.

“Hello.” she began “You must be Babette. That’s what’s written here anyway.” She pointed to the note. The filly barely noticed her, her attention fixed on the grave.

“Was Scaramouch your kitten?”

“He wasn’t a kitten, he was a cat.” Babette answered at last “He was Papa’s cat. Only he loved me better than Papa. He loved me better than anypony. I was his friend. And I didn’t give him the ringworm! I hate Aunt Muffy! She says I killed Scaramouch with the ringworm!”

Shining gave her a look of sympathy.

“I’ll bet you never did.”

“I might give you the ringworm.” the filly snapped.

At this the Sergeant snorted snidely.

“You do that and I’ll give you trench-hoof.” he retorted.

“He’s just joking.” Cadence chuckled “Why don’t we try to cheer you up. I need to have a word with the family but I’m sure the Sergeant wouldn’t mind playing a game with you.” She ignored Shining’s look of dismay.

“Can he play Happy Families?” Babette asked, looking the Sergeant up and down.

“Play it? He invented it!” Cadence trotted off brightly “Carry on, Sergeant.”

“Oh yes. Why don’t we? Sounds swell.” Shining groaned sarcastically, once again lumped with the difficult foal.

Author's Notes:

Well, I've gotten back in Bournemouth, helped my friend out with her finances and all seems well. Hope everyone else is doing fine.
The plot thickens as Special Detectives Cadence and Shining are on the case!
Yes, that is Silver Spoon. And Sticker Shock and Silver Sonnet are from MustLoveFrog's headcanon. It's some of the most heartwarming art and shipping I've ever seen. I'd recommend following it.
Runcible's talk of business tricks is based off Dad's Maths Lesson in Roald Dahl's Matilda.
And for Cadence and Shining. You know the phrase 'Like An Old Married Couple'?
Rather fun to write.

Chapter 6

Sanguine Hall was grand and really rather hospitable but still far from what Cadence had been expecting.

I suppose, after only reading about Marchion from old histories, she’d expected some sort of stone fortress with flags hanging from the walls and guards at every corner.

Instead, she found herself welcomed into the lounge by the flawlessly polite but gloomy-looking butler and was now sitting in a floral-patterned armchair, sipping tea, chuckling at Ninienne’s joke.

The denizens of the hall were taken aback, to say the least, by the alicorn’s arrival but, upon hearing she was there to clear up the inheritance of the late Prince Herod, they had been only too kind to have her join them. Blueblood had entered at roundabout the same time and had immediately fallen upon her with pleasantries, claiming the Lady Cadence to be one of his oldest and dearest friends at Canterlot, the two of them apparently among the few Princess Celestia felt she could trust. Cadence had better things to do, however, than dispel him.

If he felt relaxed, he could talk a whole lot easier.

The massive chauffeur, Conkers, had entered with Blueblood and was, on his instruction, passing round a plate of biscuits. Cadence had taken a small crunchy, knotted pastry, dusted with cinnamon, and found it to be quite delicious, taking a second.

“They’re from Bayjing. Uncle Persnickety brings them with him on weekends for afternoon tea.” Bayard pointed out “They’re his favourite too. He says you have to know where to look.”

“Well, that holds good for more than biscuits, Mr Bayard.” Cadence said knowingly then noticed the atmosphere growing a bit more edgy. Smiles faded and conversations silenced. Behind her, Aeschylus rattled a spoon against a porcelain cup.

She’d cast a gloom.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up anything unpleasant.” she assured “Please don’t think that I’m here to look into anything other than the matters of the princedom’s succession and, if I can, those anonymous letters.”

She heard Maeve give a cluck of bafflement.

“Is that treated as a crime in Canterlot?” she queried with slight derision.

“Well, in such circumstances, it could be grounds for a breach of the peace.”

“Huh!” the mare snorted “Peace? In this house? Some hope.”

Among all the Sanguine matriarchs, Maeve was the youngest, or at least liked to look as much. Her mane was a bluish-silver and arranged in ringlets over her head and she wore a thick lipstick that made her sneers and smirks that much more prominent. Dressed in a silver gown with a fur collar and a white, wide-brimmed sunhat with a veil, she was hard to miss in a crowd and, no doubt, liked it that way. Of all the family, she was being the least welcoming to Cadence in the short time she’d known her.

“Would anypony mind my questions? At this time?”

“Not at all, my lady.” Gwendoline spoke up, speaking softly but firmly in that stately manner of hers “If you are here to ease our family’s struggle at this moment, we are happy to help however way we can.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Cadence gave her a smile and settled in her chair, adopting a frank tone.

“On the evening of his birthday, Prince Herod appeared to have...done himself rather too well at dinner.”

“You see, I told you. Brimming with curiosity is our Lady Cadence.” Blueblood chuckled, tapping the side of his head “She’s quite something when she gets on the trail, let me tell you!”

“Don’t interrupt, Blueblood.” His mother shushed him before turning to her guest with a solemn expression “I fear so, my lady. He overindulged terribly. He ate tinned crayfish and drank champagne, both of which were expressly forbidden”

“I see. And later on?”

“After dinner, you mean?” The mare thought back “He took medicine for the indigestion that would inevitably follow, and there was always a hot drink. Either at bedtime or if he woke during the night.”

“A hot drink?” Cadence nodded, remembering Persnickety’s suspicions “Prepared by whom?”

“By Gwen.” Cordelia answered, not with any tone of accusation, simply factual “Isn’t that right, Gwen? You told me you always made Papa’s drink.”

“No, Cordy. Not that night.” Gwen answered “My lady, since my husband’s death, I kept house for my father-in-law.” She rolled her eyes with a sigh “A task, I may say, which was arduous as my thanks for it were small.”

Maeve also sighed.

“There she goes again. One of us got what we wanted at least.”

“Maeve, that is simply not true.” Gwen said, about as sharply to her as she could be with her son “I liked Papa. I had him to thank for a great deal. He could make my life extremely difficult but there were some labours I did not begrudge.” she drew herself up primly “And yes, making Papa’s hot drink was one of my tasks but of late, with Papa’s consent, a certain pony usurped that duty, as if by divine right.”

“Do you mean Miss Honeysuckle?”

“I tell you, Cadence, that disgusting harpy treated mummy like a common scullery-maid.” Blueblood griped.

“Now you know it was never quite that serious, Blueblood” his mother retorted “But to be sure my duties here were made substantially more trying by her presence and steady influence over Prince Herod.”

“Oh Gwen. You should’ve said.” Ninienne reached over and held her sister-in-law’s hoof in a tender manner.

“No Sanguine ever suffered in silence, Gwen dear. ‘Nothing shall come of nothing’.” Cordelia added knowingly, quoting King Drear.

At this, Gwendoline gave a small lilting laughter and quoted in turn.

“Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty according to my bond; no more nor less.”

She’d quoted perfectly with eloquence and style, Cadence could tell it wasn’t her first time quoting the line or even the second, and it prompted joyous laughter and cheer from her family who tapped their hooves on the ground in approval, Blueblood doing so the loudest and longest.

“Very good, Miss Gwendoline.” Cadence complimented.

“You should see mummy on the stage, Cadence, tops all the greats.” Blueblood insisted “It’s always brought a tear to my eye, ever since I was a foal.”

“No need to flatter me, Blueblood. I’m not Papa, I’ve no stomach for that sort of thing.” Gwen said firmly, though her heart-warmed smile giving away clear signs of grateful adoration for the colt.

Maeve had done nothing more than roll her eyes at the show before her.

“But it was Miss Honeysuckle who prepared the hot drink that evening.”

“I believe so, isn’t that right Aeschylus?”

“Yes, Madam.” Aeschylus answered his reedy, solemn voice, near invisible until now “Miss Honeysuckle heated the drink and I took it to Prince Herod’s room in a thermos and set it by his bed. He refused to take it then and there.” he shuffled awkwardly “He was, if Prince Blueblood will pardon me, in rather a temper, my lady.”

Blueblood shrugged, nodding in agreement.

Cadence was still coming to terms with the fact that, by all rights, if Honeysuckle lost the inheritance through one means or another and the terms of the first will were carried, Blueblood would indeed be a prince.

She dreaded to imagine how difficult that would be to cope with.

“And the medicine for his indigestion?” she asked.

“Oh, he didn’t need any persuading to take that, my lady.” the butler answered, his voice beginning to crack as he recollected the night’s tragedy “The pain...r-r-raged at him...something awful. He took M-M-Milk of Magnesia...t-to aid his stomach, my lady. It was kept by the bedside, l-like the thermos...but...” He reached for a handkerchief “It didn’t help him...not this time...” And the old stallion began openly weeping.

Before Cadence could react, Maeve’s shrill snap cut the silence.

“For Paradise sake, Aeschylus! Here, now? Must you really start blubbing?! The old stallion’s dead and gone! You’ll have better luck waking us than you will him, carrying on like this!”

“Maeve! That is enough!”

Blueblood was standing upright, having risen from his armchair and was now glaring at his aunt commandingly, in a manner not unlike Prince Herod. Maeve drew back with alarm and found it that much harder to glare back, trying to turn her head away with feigned disinterest.

“You know what Papa meant to him. We all do.” the stallion of the house said sharply before turning to the butler, the closest thing he ever had to a father “Come here, old steed, let it out.”

Opening his forehoof, he hugged the old butler who began sobbing into his ward’s shoulder. Like a mother cradling an upset foal, Blueblood gently rocked him side-to-side. Conkers walked up and took his father by the shoulder as his master supported him.

“I know, I know. I’m going to miss him too.” he said warmly.

Cadence was stunned. He hadn’t ever expected this level of compassion from a pony like Blueblood yet here it was.

He must have really been close to the old steed.

Out the corner of her eye, Cadence caught Gwendoline looking at her son with nothing more than earnest pride.

After the atmosphere had cleared, she’d requested a closer look at the crime scene. How the family thought it would aid in choosing an heir for the Sanguine household she couldn’t tell but they seemed ready enough to help.

Aeschylus had gathered himself once more and took her up to Room Juliet, Prince Herod’s bedchambers.

The bed had been remade and the room had been recently cleaned. She could smell a slight but distinct tang of disinfectant about the place.

Ordinarily it would be expected from a household that had thought their eldest member had simply died of natural causes but still...

Cadence paced about the room as Aeschylus described the scene of Prince Herod’s last moments.

“I got him into his bedclothes, my lady. He was carrying on, shouting at me, saying as how I was to fetch Mr Runcible...he’s the family solicitor.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Cadence replied “Mr Aeschylus, could you tell me, one more time, what exactly was on the bedside table?”

“Let’s see...” the butler thought back “There was the indigestion medicine, my lady, first and foremost. There was the decanter of brandy, usually mixed with soda water by Madam Gwendoline, for the sake of Prince Herod’s digestion. There was the thermos with his hot drink. A cup and saucer. Oh, and a spoon for the medicine. All brought up on a thin wooden tray”

He was remarkably well-detailed. Age hadn’t dulled his senses, it seemed.

She made sure to write it down on a notepad Shining had lent to her.

“Have they been washed since then?”

“Washed and used again, my lady.” Aeschylus explained “It was all spilt. The medicine, the thermos, the lot. It was a shocking mess! Soaked the carpet, splashed all over the wardrobe, some of it even landed in the cat’s bowl! We had to go at it with the carbolic.”

“Was his temper really that bad?” Cadence asked.

“I’d seen him on worse nights, my lady.” the old steed said with a weighty sigh “Age had not been kind to him. And one thing that always set him off was being reminded of that fact. He hated all these precautions, his medicine, his diet, his check-ups with Dr Caraway. He refused to be treated like some impaired old stooge, he was always saying.”

Cadence nodded, her attention turned towards a small wooden object resting on the edge of the bedside table.

She held it up.

“What’s this?”

“Oh that. It was in the old gentlestallion’s hoof when I found him. It’s the bell-push, my lady.” Aeschylus pointed to a tawdry piece of string hanging near the bedpost “We had to prize it from his clutch. In his distress, my lady, he must have pulled it away from the wire.”

Cadence gave it a closer look. It didn’t look like something that had gone through a great deal of force.

“Did you unscrew it in any way?”

“No, my lady, it’s as I found it.”

“Thank you...” Cadence’s eyes flickered with curiosity “You’ve been very helpful, Aeschylus. I think I can manage on my own. I’ll call you if there are any difficulties.”

“Very good, my lady.” And with that, the butler bowed and quietly exited the room.

Alone, Cadence’s horn lit up and took the bell-push apart. It came away in two pieces like a spinning-top and revealed the cord.

She gave it a look.

The end of the string was flat.

It had been clean-cut. Slotted back in place, it would hold but nudged even slightly it would come loose and be of no use to anypony, certainly not an old stallion in distress. She imagined the scene. In the grip of a fatal gastric attack, Prince Herod would not have had the focus necessary to perform any spell. Grabbing for the bell-push had been his only chance.

And it seemed somepony had known that.

Somepony had not wanted Prince Herod to receive the aid necessary to save his life, however possible it may have been.

This was something cold and calculating.

This was murder.

In her rush, she lost her grip on the bell-push. She’d been holding the bottom-half in her hoof but the top fell to the floor and rolled under the bed.

Cursing, Cadence bent down and reached for it, stopping suddenly as hoof-steps sounded behind her. Pulling herself out of the darkness, she noticed the hooves were not of anypony familiar.

The young alicorn slowly looked up to find a young mare with heavy makeup and a vivid blonde mane, dressed in a sleek ebony dress of mourning and looking none too pleased.

“Who are you?” Honeysuckle barked “And the ploughing hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Playing happy families.”

“Very funny.”

“No, really, look.”

The sergeant of the Canterlot Guard and acting Guard of her Ladyship held up his cards as he turned back to his opponent “Will you oblige me with Mrs Trout the Fishmonger’s Wife?”

“No, you forgot to say please, so now it’s my turn.” Babbles said with a victorious smirk.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Shining Armour turned back to the newcomer.

“And I don’t seem to be very good at it. Make of that what you will.”

The questioning creature before him was a fat old donkey with a bushy moustache, wrinkled eyes hidden behind spectacles and a khaki tweed jacket and hat, eying him with no small amount of suspicion.

“Sir, I am asking, politely I trust, what your business is with my patient.” he said gruffly “Are you some sort of journalist?”

“Me? Celestia, no!” Shining chortled “I’m with the Royal Guard, if my uniform didn’t give me away. I’m looking into Prince Herod’s death and where it leaves the family.”

He watched for the donkey’s reaction and he got it. The old jack drew back noticeably, his moustache bristling with unnerve.

“You wouldn’t be Dr Caraway by any chance?”

“...I am, sir.” he answered, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Excellent. I wouldn’t go anywhere, her ladyship will want a word with you once she’s finished in the big house.” the young stallion said cheerfully.

The doctor grimaced and turned to the filly.

“Miss Babette, I must insist you head back inside at once. You are not well and, as we’ve seen, your infliction could be contagious. After what happened to the cat...”

“Now, I’m sorry, but that’s a pretty nasty thing to say, Doctor.” Shining butted in “No foal wants to be told they killed their own pet. Besides, I’m sure it was nothing to do with her.”

“Sir, Miss Maeve was of the opinion-”

“Aunt Muffy says anything as long as it sounds horrible!” Babbles sulked “She hates them. She never says it but she’s never nice to anypony. I think it’s that green leaf she eats all the time.”

“Miss Babette, that is quite enough out of you!” Dr Caraway suddenly went red in the face, positively snarling “To the house, now, I shall not ask again!”

“Settle down, Doc. She’s fine out here.” Shining Armour said, coolly taking note of the outburst in front of him and what may have caused it “Fresh air and sunshine’s good for a sick foal. And besides, we’re in the middle of a game. Wait for her ladyship and I’ll take care of your patient.”

Breathing deeply, his hooves shaking, Dr Caraway stormed off.

“He’s always like that.” Babette had remained unperturbed at her doctor’s rage. Shining gave credit to her resolve “Now, please may I have Master Twill the Tailor’s Son?”

“You may.” Shining passed her the card, leaning in closer “Now, what’s all this about your Aunt Muffy and her green leaf?”

Babette puffed out her cheeks, rolling her eyes in faux-suspicion.

“How is it any of your business?” she asked.

Tutting, Shining Armour pulled out his secret weapon.

“There.” he passed her a lollipop.

The filly’s eyes lit up as she snatched it eagerly, unwrapping the treat with glee as Shining gave a chuckle.

“I have a little sister who’s twice the smart-flank you are, young lady. I know how to play your game. Now tell me about Aunt Muffy’s green leaf.”

“Well, alright.” Babette explained, between bites of her candy “I always see Aunt Muffy meet Dr Caraway in the garden, behind the hedge, right after tea. He gives her this green leaf and she always hides it in her hoof-bag. I see where Dr Caraway grows it too. It’s in a little glass box near the greenhouse. Mr Scathecraw, he's the gardener, he thinks it’s only weed-trimmings that get thrown in there but I saw it. I see lots of things.” she smiled proudly “I see Conkers kissing a pony outside the road, it looked like a stallion. I see Uncle Montfort, Aunt Cordy’s husband getting out of a carriage with another mare, much younger than Aunt Cordy. And I see my big brother doing lots of gross things with Cousin Rowena. Whenever I caught them, he had to give me lots of extra pocket-money to keep me from telling Papa.” She broke into giggles.

“Is that right?” Shining’s eyebrow rose.

“Older ponies are so stupid. They think because I’m little I don’t see anything that goes on here but I see everything. Being little’s much more fun. I’m going to stay little forever.”

It had taken quite a bit of explaining before Honeysuckle was willing to give her side of the story to Cadence.

She had recognised the alicorn from Alma’s watercolour paintings, finding it strange that Alma Rose had not put Sanguine Hall and its horrors out of her mind.

Now she was staring glumly out the window in the room where the stallion who had been her husband for an hour had died.

“So the second will was signed right here in Prince Herod’s room.” Cadence asked, pacing to and fro, working out the events “And after Mr Runcible and his retinue left, what then?”

Honeysuckle turned to her with a scowl.

“What do you mean ‘what then?’” she snapped “I gave Roddy his hot drink, kissed him good-night and left.”

“And he drank it?”

“Drank it and liked it.”

“And the medicine?”

The young widow’s eyes blazed with indignation.

“Oh I see, you’re expecting me to just come out and say I threw half a bottle of rat poison in there, are you?” she snarled “I’m not even surprised anymore! Ponies around here think I’ve got no ploughing feelings! Well, I have!” She spun round to face the window, her eyes watering as she shook her head, lost of focus.

“I loved him! And I was the only one around here who meant it! He was sweet! When the others weren’t driving him round the twist, he was a perfect gentlecolt. I remember how he always turned up to my performances. Acted beside me in one, I’d never seen him so happy...But now he’s gone! And the money won’t ever make up for that! Now I’ve got no-one! And now the lunatics downstairs send you here to cart me off to the gallows, is that it?!”

Cadence observed her rage with interest.

Miss Honeysuckle had been penting this up for a long time, for a certain.

“You’ve been very frank with me, Miss Honeysuckle.”

“I’ve been frank with you because I’ve got nothing to hide!” she snapped.

“I think you’re wrong there.” Cadence made her tone equally frank “One of the reasons I’m here is because of the practical jokes you played upon Prince Herod. I need hardly ask why. You wanted the blame to fall upon the filly, Babbles.”

Honeysuckle’s ardour caved in. Bowing her head, the fire in her eyes snuffed itself out as she gave a great sigh.

“I knew it...” she said sullenly “He told you, didn’t he. I suppose it serves me right. It says something when you need to frame up a pony less than half your age, even if she is a pain in the flanks. I suppose that’s what I get for thinking I had one friend in this crazy gang. Just goes to show you what a dumb bimbo I was.”

“Wait...” Cadence replayed what she’d just heard in her head “You’re talking about Prince Blueblood?”

“Ha! Princess Blueblood is more like it! That sap! That worm! Gods, he’s worse than his ploughing aunts!” she guffawed derisively “And he thought he could sling me along and hang me out to dry right till the end. Well, the joke was him, wasn’t it? I came out with the house and the money, what’s he got? He’s only Prince so long as that will’s up for question. Tell you this for nothing, I saw Roddy sign and seal it with my own eyes and there’s a solicitor and two gardeners who’ll vouch for me. It’s as genuine as you and I and that means the lot of them are out of the street the moment that penny drops!”

“So, hold on...You and Blueblood were working together to drive Prince Herod to disinherit Babette?”

“Like I said, wasn’t too proud of it.” Honeysuckle sat down on the bed “But we had to do something. He was his favourite, see. And if she got it all, her mom would be pulling the strings and that certainly meant I was out of luck. I know what she thinks about me. Babbles had to go and if her mother followed, so much the better.” She gave a downcast look, lighting a cigarette “Wouldn’t mind to give her son something to get him by. Whatshisname, Bayard. He’s a charming colt, though he daren’t look at me too long in case his sweetheart thinks he’s got too much of Roddy in him.” She gave a dry chuckle.

“You and your son-in-law made an odd couple, it seemed.” Cadence said, sitting down beside her.

“Partners in crime.” the young widow chuckled “Babbles was looking to get everything and old Gormless knew it all too well. He wanted the lot or as much as he could manage. So we came to something of an understanding. We’d look out for each other, play Roddy’s long game and whichever of us came out with the bits, we’d share. The plan was that we’d both stick up for the other whenever Roddy was around. The portrait was going to be the big payoff, see.” She puffed on her cigarette “Give old Alma my apologies for that one, by the way. It was a lovely painting, best I’d ever seen. I was sorry to tamper with it and Gormly felt the same, to give him some credit. Decided not to use anything that couldn’t be removed. Didn’t matter anyway, poor old Roddy went berserk...But then...”

“When you accused Babette, Blueblood kept silent.” Cadence supposed.

The mare's face grew glum and resentful again.

“Left me to face the music. Roddy would never mean to hurt me but when he'd get in a rage...He wasn’t thinking clearly. And when I caught sight of Gormless’s smirk, I thought he’d set me up. So I took off upstairs, hoping I could find a safe spot to cool old Roddy down and explain everything, when I saw the second will.” Her eyes gleamed vindictively “Gormless hadn’t spoken up...So neither did I.”

“I see.” The build-up to the murder was becoming very clear but it still left the murder itself in doubt “But you both worked together on the other jokes? The raspberry cushion for instance.”

“Yeah, I brought it from a shop at the station and Blueblood got that big stallion, Conkers, to distract the servants and both of us snuck it under Roddy’s chair.” After a pause, she burst into a giggle, nudging Cadence with her forehoof.

“You should have seen their faces! It was the most fun I’ve had in this place for months!”

Exiting the bedroom, Cadence was met by Shining Armour, who informed her of what he’d learned, hopping with excitement by the end. Cadence had done the same, the plot thickening around them like cement.

“This ‘green leaf’?” she started “You don’t think...”

“We could be searching for drug dealers here, Cadey!” Shining said, whispering in the corridors “That would make it a national inquiry! And if it had anything to do with Prince Herod’s murder...”

“Goodness...” Cadence shook her head “Okay, Shiney. I need you to go back to our room at the hotel and see if there’s any activity about Marchion. We might need to get the guard on here if it’s serious.”

“No problem. Give Blueblood what for when you get round to him.”

“Shiney.” Cadence stopped him before he took off, turning him to face her and smiling radiantly. Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck gently, causing him to blush in that vibrant way which always brought her giggles.

“You did very well. I’m counting on you.”

“Y-yes my lady...” Breathless, Shining Armour saluted and departed.

“Just imagine him, my lady, sitting up there all hours making a new will, disinheriting his own flesh and blood!”

Cadence had since made her way on her inquiries to the cocktail room, questioning Cordelia and Maeve on the events of Prince Herod’s last night alive. Cordelia was sitting at a chair, recollecting her side of the story with vehemence as Maeve poured herself a gin and tonic with her back to them.

“I understand your concern, ma’am but I understand that both those wills were drawn up in advance of that evening.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing more than a show for that gods-awful Honeysuckle at the time. But then the little tart took advantage of his rage, clear as crystal.” the old mare bristled “She’d been waiting for a chance and there and then, she took it. No other member of the family entered his room but her that night, Aeschylus swears to me. I tell you, ma’am, when I get my hooves on that smarmy old Runcible Spoon, he’ll have more than his bits to worry about, hiding this scheme of hers from us!” She leaned in closer, her eyes glinting.

“Do you know, I think we have a good case for proving he was got at.”

Cadence raised an eyebrow.

“By Miss Honeysuckle, I take it?”

“Well, who else?” she shrugged “You saw the letters yourself, that’s why you’re here. And whoever wrote them certainly knows what they’re talking about. The floozy murdered Papa, who else could have done it and for what other reason?”

Cadence eyed her evaluatingly. Cordelia was vindictive, for certain. But she didn’t sound insincere, neither saying too much or too little to make her accusations seem suspicious.

In a family of actors, the signs of dishonesty were great deal better-hidden.

All things considered, it all pointed to Honeysuckle.

“I suppose, ma’am, if Miss Honeysuckle employed, shall we say, duplicitous means to gain the family fortune, up to and including the murder of Prince Herod Sanguine, it would be my duty to arrest the mare.”

“Quite a bit more than that, my lady. In Marchion, there's only one place for those who commit murder, let alone regicide...” she sipped her cocktail, her mouth twisting into a cold leer.

“The gallows.”

Cadence nearly jumped in her chair. Her eyes widened significantly.

“You...hang criminals here?”

“The murderers, certainly. Since its earliest foundations, Marchion has punished said crime appropriately and, under the terms and conditions of the Charter of Vassalhood, signed by King Roth Redstar Sanguine and Laurelore the Firsticorn, that rule is kept alive here. One of the reasons Gormless stays in Canterlot. It used to be beheading. The first Sanguines were rather keen on the custom, sad to say, but we adapted to something somewhat cleaner. Does the job just as well though and if Honeysuckle’s found out, it’ll do quite nicely for her.”

Cadence weighed her words.

Honeysuckle’s situation was looking bleaker and bleaker and if she was being framed, whoever was doing so was pursuing her death as viciously as they may have pursued Prince Herod’s.

Foulness was afoot indeed.

“So, you are certain it was poison that killed your father, Madam Cordelia?”

“Oh, we’re all certain but you’ll never hear the others say so, not in public in any case. Don’t let the circumstances throw you off. Papa ate far worse on occasion and always found a way to get out of bed eventually. Foolish old stallion, he never liste-”

She stopped as Maeve suddenly and without any real warning, burst into tears before them. Weeping loudly and openly, she continued for some time, waving a handkerchief under her cheeks, before she turned to Lady Cadence who stared perplexed.

“Oh your grace...” she wailed “Your grace, forgive me...forgive me...But please hear me, for the dearness we held with each other in ages far kinder than the point of ends we are now forced to cross!”

“S-s-sorry, what?” the alicorn drew back and turned to Cordelia.

The old mare was facehoofing as her sister flung herself towards the window and made a show of gazing out at it.

“Sometimes...death comes not as an enemy but as a friend.” she sighed “By day, they talk and think of money, by night they dream of it. But for what you might call murder, there is a stronger motive than greed!” She sniffed loudly “There is love. That’s why I did what needed to be done.” She sat down and shook with sobs “Do you think I could bear to see my beloved in constant pain?! What kind of mare do you take me for?! Was I to look on and see him in the prison of his maimed body?! Oh gods, but I loathe airships!”

“Wha...airship...beloved...what?” Cadence was at a loss for words as Maeve threw herself before her, on her knees, and clasped her forehoof.

“The others...His ‘devoted’ family...” she bawled “They wanted him dead...So that they might inherit...But I...I wanted him at peace...That is why I did it...And I’m glad!” She stood up suddenly and bellowed “Glad, do you hear? Glad, glad, glad!”

She breathed deep and looked down upon her with an austere gaze.

“You will, of course, wish me to go with your guard, your grace. There are...goodbyes to be said. May I crave a moment?”

Without waiting for a reply, she strode to the door, paused at the end table, finished her cocktail and turned back to her.

“I shall return. You have my word.”

And she was gone.

“....I’m sorry, I’m a little lost.” Cadence said at last.

Cordelia sighed and set about pouring her visitor a cocktail.

“Have you ever seen ‘In The Court Of Lady Maidenspool’, my lady?” she asked.

Cadence shook her head.

“Just as well, it’s no masterpiece. They were due to perform it at the local theatre last year but the backers got cold hooves.”

She rolled her eyes as she handed her a glass of brandy.

“Poor old Muffy’s been dying to make that Act 3 speech ever since...Will you take soda?”

“No thanks.” Cadence said flatly as she drank it down neat.

The hotel in which he and Cadence were staying, the Baldrickstead Baths, was just outside the city square, a comely place but, as it turned out, rather full at this time. Cadence and Shining had been forced to take a double room...with a single bed.

Shining was anticipating the night’s sleep with what could either have been eagerness or dread, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Retrieving the keys from the clerk, he made his way up the stairs and stopped.

The door to their room was slightly open.

Someone had broken in.

His horn lighting up, his sword lifting inches out of its sheath, ready to strike as he gingerly nudged the door more open and gingerly took a step inside.

Feeling the hoof clutch the scruff of his cloak in a mere moment, he found himself yanked inside and slammed against the wall. Robbed of focus, his sword clattered to the ground as another hoof grabbed him by his cheek and tilted his head around in an almost curious gesture.

A stallion, hidden in the darkness of the room, tutted.

“Not fast enough, Shining Armour, not nearly fast enough...”

The unicorn’s eyes widened.

He knew that voice.

“Where has your training gone, I wonder?”

The lights came on, the switch pressed by a large wing on his captors’ shoulder, revealing a tall, muscular pegasus with a coat of black, brown and cream streaks running down his body, a silver ponytail of a mane and pair of gleaming, ever-alert eyes set on his old student.

He wore the armour of a Royal Guard, decorated with intricate inlays and sigils of a Colonel.

Shining Armour’s jaw dropped as he recognised the pony before him.

“Peregrine!”

“Hello, Shining.” his old mentor chuckled “What have you been getting up to?”

Author's Notes:

I tell you, its nice to have some free-time again.
I haven't actually seen a lot of Shakespeare but I like it when I find it.

The biscuits are actually based off something my dad used to bring home when he was working in Chongqing. I never actually found the name for them but they were selling them everywhere in Sichuan Province but didn't seem to do them most other places. And they are delicious, trust me. Like a kind of hard, crunchy churro twisted up like a pretzel and covered with cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg. If you're ever in Chongqing, try them. You won't regret it.

The power games are over the place here. Helps to read Game of Thrones. Maidenspool is a name from those books in fact. Arya mentions it in the show.

And I thought I'd take the opportunity to give Peregrine's character a bit more build-up the same way I've done for Alma.
Hope you've enjoyed it and thanks for reading.

Who do you think did it?

Chapter 7

“Marchion’s not all that bad, really. I’m not gonna’ lie, there are places in the Outskirts where they do things that turn the stomach of decent Equestrians but the old home of the Sanguines is not one of them. Even during the Wars for Unification, Roth Redstar was one of the less morally objectionable foes Laurelore faced.”

Peregrine had always appeared a giant before Shining Armour. And even now, as a grown stallion, Shining still felt small beside him. Master and student had been making their way through Marchion via a small but quiet pathway that took them over the centuries-old city wall. Peregrine was in civilian gear, an ochre tunic and sepia gown with a gilded belt of office slung around one shoulder yet the stallion always had the look of one expecting a fight around the next corner.

He’d trained his recruits the same way.

“So you knew about the drug dealing in Marchion?” Shining asked “This ‘green leaf’?”

“Atropine.” Peregrine answered with a nod “The outskirts are famous for peddling illegal substances. Some states have loopholes one can abuse but when it’s transferred outside of the state, Equestria is permitted to stamp down on the trafficking. Marchion is famous for many things, its heraldry, its theatre, its cosmetics, its wines and its local omelette, very nice that, try it while you’re here. But a less benign produce that the local neer-do-wells take part in is the consumption and distribution of atropine. The plants you can find the drug grow wide around the countryside. You can buy it in small doses on prescription but the neat stuff is what the users crave, where the real money is. It’s toxic in large doses and doesn’t do you much good in medium ones either.”

“I see...” Shining thought of Prince Herod. The arsenic rat poison hadn’t been what killed him.

Could Atropine have done the trick?

“So are you here on business, then?”

“When I am ever not?” the officer chuckled “I’m down here with a few of the boys and girls from your year, you’ll be happy to hear. Right Angle, Kitty Wake and Bubble Bath. And I heard Sunset Shimmer’s paying us a visit with Flash Sentry in tow.”

“Great. It’ll be nice seeing them again.” Shining smiled “Are Angle and Kitty hooked up yet.”

Peregrine snorted.

“Some hope! Those two will be syrupy sweethearts till they’re old and grey!”

“And the First Lieutenant?”

“Bubble Bath is...Bubble Bath.”

Shining groaned.

“I don’t fancy introducing her to Cadence.”

“Ah yes, mustn’t forget you’re entertaining royalty now.” Peregrine chuckled heartily “Once she’s back home with you, come round to have a look at what we’ve found. The garrison’s not far from here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No worries, if her ladyship Mi Amore Cadenza is such an enthusiast of love and passion as they say, I’m sure First Lieutenant Bubble Bath would make a good impression.”

“...I suppose she might be her kind of mare.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Shining caught sight of Peregrine’s cheeky grin as his old commanding officer jabbed him coltishly in the shoulder with his elbow “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it.”

“Sir...Come on...” Shining whined, fighting laughter.

Peregrine was a down-to-earth soul and kept his personal and professional life separate. In the ranks, he was hard-as-nails and uncompromising, letting no slipup or setback go unnoticed. Outside, however, he was as friendly as the rest of them.

“Well, I’d best be off to let ‘em know you’re in town” he said at last, turning round the corner to the garrison “We’ll be in touch. Let me know if you find anything useful between now and tonight.”

*

“It’s piffle, the lot of it. Pretentious, paranoid piffle and they’re fools for thinking otherwise.” Dr Caraway was grumbling as he and Cadence spoke of the situation on the garden path.

“You’re saying Prince Herod’s death was natural?”

The donkey snorted.

“Natural enough, certainly in his opinion. Prince Herod suffered from ulcers and degeneration of the heart. If you need that repeated to you, my lady, you’re more like him than you realise. Endlessly I warned him of the dangers of the lifestyle he was accustomed to and endlessly he ignored me.” he sighed in frustration “The evening of his death, he had eaten a disastrous meal, drank excessive amounts of champagne and thrown into one of his rages. I diagnosed a gastric attack culminating in cardiac failure. And I hold to that.”

Cadence nodded and turned to him curiously.

“What about the rat poison that’s been found?”

“Piffle.” Caraway answered flatly.

“In Miss Honeysuckle’s room?”

“Double piffle.”

The mare nodded again.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“The whole family has it in for her. Not without reason, I’ll grant you, but...” he paused in his rant and turned to Cadence “Did you say you agree?”

She gave him a pitying look. Dr Caraway, it seemed, was used to being ignored. No wonder he seemed so crabby.

“The bottle hadn’t even been opened.”

“Tcha!” The donkey actually came close to laughing “Clumsy, that’s what it is. You’ll be off, then?”

“Not necessarily.” Cadence said, noting this sudden elation of his “There could be poison elsewhere at Sanguine Hall.”

“Hmph! Speaks the born pessimist...or do I mean optimist?” Caraway snorted again “With all due respect, my lady, triple piffle.”

“I don’t know if it is quite as ‘piffle’ as all that, Dr Caraway.” Cadence adopted a stern tone “I’d like to know if there’s anything around that could have hastened Prince Herod’s timely death. And I’d like to start with Miss Maeve’s ‘green herb’.”

Caraway’s face fell uncomfortably and he gave a weighty sigh.

“My lady...I must assure you, such a thing, while not by any means smiled upon, is not illegal in Marchion.”

“Nonetheless...” Cadence said plainly as Caraway explained.

“Miss Maeve Sanguine does indeed have an unfortunate habit of abusing the narcotic known as Atropine. Taken in small doses, once the leaves of the necessary plant have been aged for a week, soaked in salt-water, dried and burnt, it creates a relaxant effect in ponies. She picked up the habit in one of her early infatuations a decade ago.” he spoke gruffly “And yes, Prince Herod did know. And no, he did not approve in the slightest. He entrusted me with making sure her doses were moderated, each year would be lessened slightly.”

“So this was all planned out?”

“My lady, immediate deprivation of the drug causes users to undergo dangerous withdrawal symptoms that can be life-threatening. This was the cleanest course of action without getting anypony outside of the family involved. Above all, Prince Herod wished to protect the reputation of the Sanguine Household. A safe and slow ease onto the clean path, that would solve things. I was looking for alternatives but I didn’t want Mr Scathecraw or Mr Runcible twigging on, you understand. And I hope I can count on your silence.”

“As far as I can manage. We will need to look into this but it won’t be brought up outside of this garrison unless related to Prince Herod’s death.”

Caraway humphed again.

“I wonder if you’re not a Sanguine yourself, my lady? You seem eager to spot a conspiracy against the family wherever possible. Piffle, I say once more. If anypony used atropine, I would have noticed. I monitor the containment of the stuff twice daily. I’ll say it once more with clarity, Prince Herod died through his own wilful negligence as many are wont to do when they ignore the advice of doctors.” He turned on his fetlocks “Now if you excuse me, I have patients to attend do, some that are actually above-ground in this damned madhouse.”

Cadence had got it down in her notepad, ignoring her witness’s brusqueness.

“Thank you, Doctor, you’ve been very helpful. On the subject,” she deposited her notepad and spoke earnestly “How goes Miss Babette’s ringworm?”

“On the mend, my lady.” Caraway managed a satisfied smile “It’s slow and it’s stubborn, but thallium does the trick as it always does, give it time. Her mane is falling out nicely.”

“Her mane?!” Cadence asked, stunned.

“A common side-affect. Thallium’s a depilatory. Mane on the head will dry up and fall out in strands. Tail can do the same .”

“Gosh...” Cadence shook her head “No wonder the poor filly’s in such a bad mood.”

A light went off in her head, her ear pricked and she turned to the doctor.

“Thallium...I remember from my alchemy studies at school...Isn’t that also a sedative?”

Caraway’s lips pursed with discomfort.

“You aren’t suggesting...”

“I’ll have to find out what I’m suggesting for myself.” Cadence said “Where do you keep it?”

*

“The flower room.” Ninienne explained as Cadence cast her eyes up to the top shelf where, instead of flowerpots and seed samples, there stood a small wooden container with a couple of glass bottles filled with clear liquid safely stored within.

“It’s an odd place to keep the medicine, I know, but I wanted it out of the reach of little hooves. Dear Babette’s simply into everything, it’s a trait of her father’s.” she chuckled as Cadence gently hovered up to the top shelf.

“You’ll find two bottles. One’s nearly empty and the other hasn’t been opened.” she called up to her

“Thank you. I’ve got them.” Cadence replied, taking the bottles in her magical grasp and floating back down and looking them over “Both marked poison.”

“Naturally, since that is what it is.” Dr Caraway said flatly “The dosage is a minute amount, taken in water.”

“I use an eyedropper.” Ninienne added.

Cadence inspected the unopened bottle.

“The seal seems a bit loose.” she mentioned.

“Yes, that can happen in a moist atmosphere.” Caraway said.

“We did have a couple of rather damp seasons.” Ninienne added.

“Regardless, it hasn’t actually been broken so the medicine is still very much usable and, as you see, as yet unused.” the doctor finished.

“I do see...What I’m curious about is...” Cadence eyed the bottle, shook it a little and turned to the two.

“Miss Hawthorn-Sanguine. Would it be possible for somepony to have removed some of Babette’s medicine, without your knowledge?”

Ninienne gave a look that showed puzzlement perhaps slight unnerve.

“Oh goodness no. We would have noticed. If you’ll look closely, the bottle comes with a measurement on the inside for when it’s full. See.”

“I do see.” Cadence said again, checking to notice the small thin line on the bottle that the liquid within reached up to exactly “So supposing somepony knew this. And after using the medicine, refilled what was left with, say, water, or some other clear liquid?”

Ninienne gave a slightly strangled laugh.

“What a peculiar idea!” she hooted “I wonder if you don’t read too many books, if you don’t mind me saying, my lady.”

“What exactly are you driving at, my lady?” Dr Caraway seemed less amused.

“Me? Nothing, I’m the least suspicious mare in Canterlot, or in the court at any rate.” Cadence said with a smile, holding up the bottle “May I hold onto this? I’ll gladly buy you a new one within the week.”

“My lady...” Dr Caraway said gruffly “With all due respect, this is...”

“Quadruple piffle?” the alicorn butted in “I’m sure it is.”

On her way out, she came across a pair of lovers in the wood just within the borders of the garden.

Bayard and Rowena looked as if they’d seen better days. Rowena had clearly been crying and was close to doing so now. Bayard looked as if he hadn’t slept in quite some time. The two of them were standing face to face in the midst of an argument that, while not aggressive, was definitely not contained.

Subtly, Cadence ducked slowly into the undergrowth and listened.

“Rowena, please, don’t weep. We’ll work it out.” the stallion said slowly and clearly.

“How can we work it out?!” the mare was wailing “They’re going to send us away! Worlds apart! And if she has her way, what next?! She’s going to destroy both of us and it’s all my fault!”

“That’s not true!” Bayard was trying to keep calm and failing quite noticeably. He clasped her lover’s hooves in his own “Look, she’s not going to hurt us, she has no reason to.”

“Yes, she does! I said she was to blame for the way things were! I called her a tart! A gold-digger!”

“Once, Rowena, once. There’s still time to talk it over. I’m sure if she understood you were just under a lot of stress...”

“No! I can’t talk to her! Think about what she may have done!”

“I’ll have a talk then.”

“Why?” Rowena pulled her hooves free, positively hissing and shaking with hysteria “So you can run off with her and everything she’s snatched up for herself?! So you can leave me, Bayard?! You’d leave me?! Your plain, stupid, spiteful, little cousin! You’d leave me for her?!”

“Rowena, stop it!” the stallion clutched her by the shoulders, exasperation turning to sympathy as his wife gasped for breath “Just stop...This isn’t you.”

Steadily, Rowena’s breath slowed, her face a picture of shock and dismay, as she broke down into quiet sobs, falling into Bayard’s embrace.

“I’m sorry...” she whimpered “I didn’t mean it, Bayard, I didn’t...I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Tenderly, the stallion brushed her mane, kissing her on the forehead.

“It’s alright, Rowena...It’ll be alright.” he whispered “I promise.”

With a heavy sigh, clutched by one-part-sympathy and another-part-suspicion, Cadence approached.

“I heard raised voices...” she said calmly as the pair noticed her “Is everything alright?”

“Of course it’s not alright!” Rowena moaned “What sort of stupid question is that?”

“Rowena, come on now, stop...” Bayard sounded almost fatherly “It’s not her fault.” he looked up at Cadence “I’m sorry, my lady, she’s...well, we’re all a bit out of sorts.”

“I understand. I’m sorry about all this.” Cadence said “I wondered if you might be able to help me. I assure you, you’re in no danger.”

Her powers over love and those of others had always been something she’d been both curious and cautious with.

Love was a great phenomenon one could hardly explain through science or fate. It was neither dictated by unseen cosmic entities nor by the structure of a pony’s nerves and neuroses. It was a virtually unknown power that rivalled all others and when she was found by Celestia just over a dozen years ago, her powers had been dormant and the Princess knew that careful nurture and teaching was necessary to prevent disaster.

From the very start, she’s been told to always be mindful of what effect her powers caused. A couple’s spat or a family’s row she was fine in settling through a spell, getting ponies to remember they loved each other and could work things out through sensible compromise.

But deep-rooted problems required something far more complex than a simple spell. She’d learnt that a while ago and nearly paid a terrible price for it. The times she’d disappointed Celestia with her powers were very few but she never forgot them.

In cases such as these, when stress or pressure rapped at a pony’s mind, wise words could accomplish a lot more than magic.

Calmly, she rested upon a gnarled log facing the couple who seated themselves on a bench.

“Bayard Hawthorn, Rowena Buttercup, you both received one of those anonymous letters, correct?”

They nodded.

“And do you believe what it said?”

They looked at the alicorn with unease, then each other and replied.

“Not me.” Rowena said first “I don’t like her, I try not to show it but I don’t. She’s brought us nothing but misery. And I long suspected she was to blame for those pranks everypony said Babette was playing. She’s a sly and greedy creature behind all that glamour...But I don’t think she’s capable of murder.”

“I must reply in kind.” Bayard seconded “I won’t say she’s entirely blameless in all that’s transpired and I do resent her quite a bit for blackening my little sister’s name, a pain in the neck she may be, but I don’t think Honeysuckle’s quite as bad as the rest of us make her out to be. Honestly, if we’d all just given her a chance, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Cadence nodded. Somehow Bayard seemed the most rational all the family.

“I understand you, Miss Rowena, objected to her influence quite loudly at dinner, the night Alma Rose arrived.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, I was in a terrible temper.” Rowena sighed guiltily “After how grandfather reacted to us getting together...in front of everypony...I’d dreamed of this moment and it was all ruined because of him...”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to announce it then, specifically?”

The couple gave a collective sigh.

“Well, it seemed a good a place as any for everypony to behave themselves, with a guest around.” Bayard explained “But you see, a few hours after drinks, Gormless and Honeysuckle met with us in their usual preening manner. Honeysuckle wanted to know all about our love-life and then the two of them urged us to announce plans for marriage at dinner, Gormless himself claiming he’d put in a good word for Papa.”

Cadence raised an eyebrow.

“Did he?”

Bayard gave a dismal look.

“I can only assume from how it turned out that it slipped his mind.”

“You hadn’t told your parents?”

“No great deal of point.” Rowena sulked “Mine only just remember I exist when I’m in the room. They stopped having any interest in my affairs when I stopped being a curly-maned little accessory of theirs, the same ways Babbles is now.”

“You were never as bad as her.” Bayard gave a slight chuckle “And I think mine knew but she didn’t see it as any more than a foalhood romance. That’s all I am to her, a foal.”

Cadence gave another nod.

“And one more thing, might not sound important but just to be sure.” she said “I understand, after the incident with the raspberry cushion, Prince Herod questioned your little sister the following morning. Were either of you present?”

“I was...close.” Rowena answered “I was passing by the music room. I heard a conversation inside but it certainly didn’t sound like Papa was raging at the guilty party as he was wont to do.” She paused for thought “I didn’t hear a whole lot but he sounded...not exactly kindly but considerate, a lot calmer than usual. And Babbles certainly didn’t sound bereaved. Papa said something...what was it?”

Cadence had her notebook ready as Rowena recalled.

“What did you see, child? Don’t fail me now. Who do you see enter?”

*

Outside, Cadence gave a fumble at her crystal transceiver and relayed the circumstances with Shining.

“Oh, that’s great. It’ll be lovely to catch up with Peregrine again. And I can’t wait to meet your friends.” she said joyously.

“Y-yeah...great...” Shining seemed less certain “So, seems unlikely the Atropine is what did it. Sounds more like you’re chasing down this medicine stuff...”

“Thallium.” Cadence clarified “Known to the alchemists as Grassy Glare for its bright green spectrum when used in their practices. Alchemy is very popular in Marchion among the middle-class working ponies and depended on for medicine and narcotics. Diluted, it's a prescription medication. But in its raw form, it can be quite toxic. It’s colourless, odourless and tasteless and for centuries has been used as a murder weapon, hence its nickname ‘Inheritance Powder’.”

“Gosh...” Shining said breathlessly “Sounds like a Sanguine’s best friend.”

“It certainly sounds like this would be more subtle. Death by atropine overdose can be signified by varicose veins and abnormally large pupils. And the stuff stinks. Prince Herod would have smelt it in any drink or medicine, especially if he knew one of his family was a user. Still, it might be worth chasing it down. No reason why we can’t do a bit of drug-busting while we’re here.”

“You are having way too much fun, Cadey!” the stallion chuckled before he hung up.

Depositing her transceiver, Cadence prepared to do something she’d been longing to do for a while, something her Aunt Celestia had made look very fun.

Give Blueblood a good talking-to.

“Well...” Blueblood, or Gormless depending on whom one asked, gave a dismal puff on a cigarette as he growled with venom, pacing round the cocktail room, he and Cadence the only ones present.

“Well, that is the end of that, it seems. Curtains down and house-lights up. Goodbye, Miss Honeysuckle...R-I-P.”

“Is that a threat?” Cadence asked, showing him no courtesy he hadn’t earned, which was slim to none.

The stallion sighed and shot her a glare.

“No. I mean, I wash my hooves of Little Miss Third Row of the Chorus. So much for getting through this together, the filthy, little sneak! Never trust a faux-blonde. If they’ll lie about their mane, they’ll lie about anything.”

“Is that what you believe? Miss Honeysuckle seemed to think you were the one who sneaked on her.”

“Well, she would, wouldn’t she?” Blueblood sneered “It’s always everypony else’s fault with her.”

“When Prince Herod raged at her, you never said a word.” Cadence pointed out, fast losing patience with his hypocrisy.

“I didn’t think it would be practical. Papa was uncontrollable in his temper tantrums, my word wouldn’t have made any difference.” he caught sight of his interrogators disdainful expression “Don’t look at me like that! I wasn’t throwing myself into the dragon’s mouth for her or that stinking Babbles! My record was clean.”

“It most certainly was not, Gormless.”

“Do not call me that!” Blueblood snarled, as close to murderous as she’d ever seen him “Not now, not here, not ever. My name...is Blueblood!”

There was a slight pause. The stallion blinked several times and collected himself, giving a snooty sniff.

“And just what do you mean by ‘certainly not’?”

“You know what I mean.” Cadence retorted “You and Honeysuckle conspired together. You wanted your cousin, young Babette, to be cut out of her grandfather’s will. So you perpetrated those jokes. The raspberry cushion, the writing on the mirror, the paint on the banisters and the vandalised painting.”

The unicorn raised one eyebrow.

“So?”

“I imagine it was you, yourself, who went up to your grandfather’s room to plant the writing. It seems most likely Honeysuckle must have kept him occupied elsewhere. You spilt some paint on the banister on your way up, and wrote the words you knew Prince Herod would find most offensive, insulting his talent for acting.”

Blueblood gave a scoff of nonchalance and threw up his hooves and adopted a sing-song voice.

“Oh curse you, Detective, foiled again. You’re too smart for me by far. Send me to the pokey, oh do.” his tone became more disdainful, shooting the alicorn a look of confident smugness “Is that really the best you’ve got? Yes, I wanted her out of the picture. What pony who knew her well wouldn’t?! She would have done it anyway if she had the means. I was acting in her stead. It’s hardly a hanging offence.”

“But Babette wasn’t the only target, was it?” Cadence continued, her voice growing more and more enraged “You wanted her mother to receive the blame as well for letting the filly run amok, making note of this whenever you could. And then, when the moment was right, you convinced Bayard and Rowena to announce their engagement before the family, knowing all too well how your grandfather would react to not being asked permission beforehoof, throwing both the lovers and their mothers under the rails. You knew your uncle Persnickety was not a problem, he preferred Canterlot and Prince Herod knew this. While you sang praises of your homeland whenever you were in your grandfather’s hearing. And you’d probably find some way to get one over on Maeve, knowing her addiction. So when the time came to announce the will, only you and Honeysuckle would be standing in the spotlight. And then, finally, you’d let Honeysuckle take the fall for the games you played, knowing that your family would be behind you all the way, just to see the back of her...Have I got that right?”

Having listened in silence, Blueblood stretched out his hooves and leaned cockily against the bookshelf.

“Just so. I admit, I’m not normally that strategic.” he said nonchalantly “The Sanguine Game. One I set out to win. I didn’t write the letters though. Didn’t need to. Everypony else was already thinking it.”

“So who did?”

He shrugged.

“Someone who felt the need to explain the obvious.” He puffed on his cigarette again.

"Did you kill him?"

"Of course not. Why would I?" Blueblood tossed his mane "I was under the impression you were here to sort out the will and the letters, Detective, but if you're chasing murderers, Honeysuckle should still be in her room."

"You believe she did it?"

"Of course she did it, it's plain as Cousin Rowena features! Means, motive, opportunity, it was all hers. So I suggest you do your damned job and stop wasting my time!"

Cadence held onto her temper, a strenuous task.

"You had the whole thing set up. Getting into your papa's good books and remaining there."

“Quite." The stallion smirked "Rather clever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not really.” It was Cadence’s turn to smile “For all your schemes, you ignored the obvious. That your grandfather already had somepony feeding him information.”

“What?!” Blueblood’s poise vanished quickly as he stood up “Who?!”

“Little Babbles.” The alicorn replied knowingly. At this, Blueblood scoffed.

“That backwards little scab?! Are you joking?! She can barely do her times-tables!”

“Maybe. But she sees things. She saw you heading up to Room Juliet with a container of cadmium red oil paint with which to slander her.”

Blueblood’s lips twisted over gritted teeth as Cadence cut him down verbally, the sight of his indignation sweet to her eyes.

“Evidently, Prince Herod wasn’t quite as foolish as you hoped he was. He knew the medicine Babbles took was a soporific. Dr Caraway would never use any medicine at Sanguine Hall without his notice. He knew Babbles was sound asleep when the pranks were laid. It couldn’t have been her. It had to be one of the grown-ups. So he had Babbles cast her eye over the Hall.”

She remembered how the filly had materialised from the bushes when first she saw her and disappeared just as quickly, how quietly she’d slunk through the corridors and into her studio.

“Neither seen, nor heard. She was his personal informant, one you were too proud to notice. Prince Herod made you all believe she was out of the picture and waited for the real culprit to reveal themselves. He deceived you, Gormless. He played you at your own game till the very end!”

Blueblood was quiet, hatred burning in his arrogant, blue eyes as he stamped out the cigarette in the ash-tray, grinding it into the glass until it was nothing but a flat, grey stub.

“Bravo, Papa...” he hissed “Very clever indeed...I don’t believe this! After all the crawling I did...”

“Don’t you dare believe you were in the right!” Cadence snapped “You were prepared to set your grandfather against his entire family solely for your own gain! To acquire everything you’d always desired but never earned.”

“You imagine I was the only one?!” Blueblood retorted, teeth bared “Do not stand there and look down on me for my predicament! What do you know of gain? What do you know of earning?! You’re an alicorn lady of Canterlot! Princess Celestia's niece and apprentice! You’ve never had to earn a thing in your entire gods-damned life!”

“Shows what you know.” Cadence interrupted him “And I hope you realise it’s your fault. All of this. Your little game set your grandfather over the edge. Made it impossible for him to separate friend from foe. That was what drove him to sign the second will.”

“And it will be contested.”

Cadence and Blueblood both spun round to where the voice had come from. Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine stood in the doorway in her stately manner, her face betraying nothing but mild sternness.

“I can assure you of that, my lady. Miss Honeysuckle exercised improper influence over him. The whole household knew it. Though...” her face fell dismally “I wish I could say she did the same for my son, I truly do.”

“Wh...Mother, I...” Instantly, Blueblood’s ardour decomposed under his mother’s gaze “You...you don’t understand...she...”

“Blueblood...This really is more than I can bear.” Gwendolyn sighed flatly “Those appalling jokes? You and that mare? Consorting together? Setting Papa against his own family?”

Cadence watched with, what could only be fascination, as Blueblood changed. Where once a cocky, arrogant noble with few charms and even fewer virtues had once stood smugly before her, there now stood a shaking, shamed colt in a stallion’s body, teary-eyed and blubbering as he cried out.

“What was I supposed to do?!” he wailed “I couldn’t take it anymore! First the brat and now her! I saw how he looked at me, I knew what he thought about me, what we was planning for me! You heard him! He was going to force me into the army! To freeze to death in the Frozen North! And you...He was...” he began weeping “He was going to send you away...Mother, please...I didn’t just do it for myself, you can’t think that! I just...” He hung his head.

“I didn’t want you to go...I didn’t want to leave you...”

Sweeping forward like a breeze, Gwendolyn reached out and cradled her sobbing son, resting his head on her shoulder and shaking her head.

“Blueblood...” she sighed “You know I love you but you can be exceptionally foolish sometimes.”

“I know...I’m sorry...” the stallion whined “I was just so scared...You heard him say...”

“Yes, yes, I saw. But don’t worry...” she whispered in a motherly tone “I told you...It’ll all be worth it in the end. Just be patient and be strong. You are a prince...” She gave him a smile “A prince must be strong. And not just for himself. Sit down here for a moment and I’ll have a word with her ladyship.”

Steadily, she sat Blueblood down on an armchair, patted his head and turned to Cadence as they exited the cocktail room and found a quiet spot in the corridor.

“My lady.” Gwendolyn began “I must ask that you keep this information secret. I promise you, my son and I will settle this out with the family later on. No good can come of any more cause for resentment in Sanguine Hall.”

“I agree with that at least.” Cadence said grimly “If we find out this had nothing to do with the investigation, I’ll leave it to you. If not, we’ll have to press further.”

“I...understand.” Gwendolyn gave a sigh “He’s not a bad colt. He can act very thoughtlessly but it’s something that will pass. I promise”

“Do you think your son means what he said? About you being in danger?”

The mother paused and spoke with discomfort.

“More than you’d initially believe. As the wife of a deceased family member, proper protocol would not grant me anything further from the family. For my son, certainly, but not for me. I am of relatively common stock and it was only by staying on as housekeeper I was guaranteed permanent residence here. I know for certain that...some of my sisters-in-law were less happy about this that they let on. But I am needed here...With my son.”

Her voice was wavering.

“When he was sent to be a hostage in Canterlot I went for whole weeks without sleep. Whenever he came back...it was as if the sun was shining again over Marchion. Prince Herod’s favour or disfavour passing from one family member to the other...It was like an axe floating at the back of one’s throat. I could bear it, I went through similar burdens when Lockhart was courting me, but Blueblood...”

“I understand.” Cadence said, without knowing if she meant it or not “Regardless, I’ll have more to work on tomorrow. Thank you for all your help.”

Gwendolyn gave a bow.

“You’re very welcome, my lady. I wish you luck.”

*

Cadence had returned to the flat to find Shining had the orb on and was about to relate the findings to a tentative Alma Rose.

At the time she arrived, Cadence realised she hadn’t eaten in more than eight hours and there and then she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to have supper or talk to Alma.

She elected to do both. The two of them had a couple of omelettes sent up to their room as she and Shining explained the situation to Alma on the orb who seemed to eating herself.

Finishing a mouthful and dabbing at her lips with a napkin, Cadence began.

“Well, Alma, let me start by just getting it out the way. It is murder.”

“Whoa-Celestia! The plot thickens.” the bubbly pegasus gasped “What tipped you off?”

“This.” Cadence held up the bell-push she’d kept on her “The thread had been cut and a screw had been undone so that it simply fell off the flex when Prince Herod tried to summon help. So not only is it murder but it was premeditated murder, first-degree, cold, cunning and cruel.”

“Damn...” Alma shook her head “So who do you think did it? Where does the evidence lead?”

“Well, at first glance the evidence all pointed to Honeysuckle, which immediately gave us reason to believe she hadn’t done it.” Shining said between mouthfuls of omelette “Always be careful of too much evidence, especially when it’s all rather clumsy.”

“She’s hardly a mental giant but she does have a gift for self-preservation. Think about it. It just doesn’t add up that a mare would risk the noose by murdering an old stallion who, in any case, wouldn’t live all that long anyway.”

Alma nodded.

“As to the arsenic in her bedroom and the anonymous letters, the murderer planted those, obviously. Everypony received a letter except Honeysuckle. If she’d sent them, it would be crazy not to send one to herself, otherwise you’re just asking to be implicated.” Cadence took a breath “And then there was that old book that so conveniently kept popping up, according to which the traditional practice of embalming involves the use of arsenic. So however the old stallion may have died, traces of the poison would be found in his remains if and when the body was dug up. One more strand in the rope that would hang Honeysuckle.”

“Unfortunately for our murderer, the book is several centuries old and the world and the art of the embalmer has moved on.” Shining added “I had a talk with the local funeral directors, who tended to Prince Herod’s body, who told me that nowadays, arsenic is never used, at least by them. Health and safety risks, evidently.”

“Boy, this scheme’s so full of holes you could use it as a colander!” Alma chuckled.

“Yes. It’s a curious one.” Cadence tapped the side of her head “Half parts dead cunning. the other half cack-hoofed haste.”

“Wouldn’t that show they’re still playing?” Shining asked “Trying to keep one step ahead of us?”

“Exactly. All of this was planned out. Before the will was announced, the bell-push had been cut and whatever killed Prince Herod was primed and ready. They just didn’t count on Alma here being such a dutiful citizen and informing us.”

“Hey, what can I say? I set an example.” their friend in the orb chuckled “So what do you think did it? And who?”

“Well, Dr Caraway seems to have the right means at his disposal...but I can’t spot the motive.” Shining said.

“And if the murder was planned before the reading of the will that makes the likelihood of the previous chief suspects, Honeysuckle and Blueblood, far less likely. His death was the last thing they sought. They wanted him alive so they could keep working their charms.”

“We’ll have to go over it. Regardless, I’m working on getting permission to investigate the body.” Shining said “And Cadence will question Maeve about the atropine.”

“Good luck, you two.” Alma laughed “You two make a great couple.”

The two looked at each other.

“I mean just...as working together.” Alma backtracked “You...You know what I mean.

“Yes, Alma...” Cadence sighed “We do.”

Author's Notes:

Nearing the penultimate chapter.
Going to be glad to get this finished. Juggling multiple fics is proving difficult.
Thanks for reading.
Now I must ask my readers, honestly.
Who do you think did it?

Chapter 8

Maeve had not had the green herb in quite some time it seemed. Or at least not as much as she would like.

Cadence eyed her lying across the armchair with one forehoof clutching the other foreleg, back hooves fidgeting uncomfortably. Her mane was slightly messed up and her heavy eye-shadow hid slight bags and bloodshot pupils.

The living room had its curtains closed, despite it being the early morning, sunlight creeping between the gaps.

Her snappy demeanour was even more in the flesh than before as she gave the lady a curt glare.

“I’ve seen the way you walk.” she said suddenly, her voice possessed of a slight disdainful hiss “You trot. Bouncing along. Like a school-filly on the way to her first blind date...only to find out it’s just her uncle’s shed. With a heavy lock.” she finished with a snort that could have been humour or bitterness “Is that what happened? I mean, I only ask because you have the look of somepony who it happened to. Or will happen to. No matter, it’d wake you up a bit.”

Cadence couldn’t believe it but already this mare was trying her patience more than Blueblood.

“I don’t actually have a family of my own.” she replied quietly.

Maeve gave another snort.

“You have no idea how lucky you are.”

“Miss Maeve.” she began with a tired tone “When I questioned you about the circumstances before and after your father’s death, you rather changed the subject before leaving.”

“Why not? It was tedious.”

“That is of no relevance.” Cadence found herself speaking in her aunt Celestia’s voice “I need to know what happened and your thoughts on the matter.”

“I have no thoughts on the matter and you already know what happened. 'Suckeyfunnel' or whatever she calls herself poisoned papa. So unless you plan on putting her in her place, the scaffold to be exact, we have nothing to discuss.” And with that she turned over on the sofa immaturely, her back to the lady of Canterlot.

Fighting not to show her frustration, Cadence played her card.

“Atropine.”

Maeve rolled over instantly, eyes staring at her instantly.

Her voice was quiet, quick and tinged with the unmistakable sign of desperation.

“...where...”

“What?”

“Nothing!” Her voice had grown to a snap near-instantly. She’d sat up and was staring at Cadence quite forebodingly, her wide-eyes betraying slightly larger-and-darker-than-normal irises and ever so slightly yellowed pupils.

Cadence paused and took a moment to realise she was alone in the living room.

Alone with an addict in withdrawal.

As if in a cage with a wild predator, she fought hard not to show fear.

“You’ve been using it for some time.” Cadence said calmly, keeping her eyes dead set on Maeve’s.

“No.”

“Yes, I have it on good authority.”

“Caraway lies.” the replies were swift each time.

“I didn’t say it was Caraway.”

“Well, if it was, he lies. And if it was anypony else, they lie!”

“You have clear signs.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“There’s discolouration in your eyes and around your nostrils. Your mane is gradually bleaching, your veins around your legs and neck are varicose and your left ear won’t stop twitching. There’s more than just insomnia at work.”
Maeve squinted venomously.

“There’s no crime in that.” she said begrudgingly, ears sloping in defeat “Not here.”

“Maybe. But now that this is a crime scene, it puts you in the headlights quite prominently.”

Maeve scoffed.

“You’re suggesting I killed papa to fuel my addiction?”

“It’s pretty clear that whoever killed Prince Herod did so for money. Money you weren’t allowed to spend on atropine.” Cadence tilted her head inquisitively “You were allotted an allowance, an allowance that was steadily decreasing. Perhaps it had simply gotten too much for you, perhaps you were just tired of waiting for financial independence. The thought of all the green herb the Sanguine coffers could buy just becoming too tempting...”

“Stop!”

Maeve’s eyes had widened with unease. Her body had started shaking.

“Alright...” her voice had become a whisper “If you really must know...I have been taking the herb for quite some time now. Papa and Caraway were working me off it slowly with a paltry stipend but...I knew ponies who could add to it with the right payments. It...” she shook her head “It just got too much...The headaches, the cramps, the shaking in the night...the mornings were unspeakable...I needed more, do you understand? For star’s sake, I didn’t have enough here! It was never enough!”

Cadence addressed her expressionlessly.

On one hoof, she found drug usage plain stupid and the abuse of drugs thoroughly repugnant.

But on the other hoof, these things didn’t just happen on their own. Understanding was the first step to curing.

“So did Prince Herod know?”

“I...I was going to talk to him about it.” Maeve stammered “I can’t imagine I would have been calm throughout...Papa wasn’t the only one who was terrible in a temper...but I never got the chance.”

“And with the share of his estate, you wouldn’t have to worry about Caraway.”

“...yes...”

Cadence nodded and spoke frankly.

“I’m going to have to know the name of your dealer.”

“Wh...that wasn’t part of the agreement!” Maeve snapped, anxiety in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Miss Maeve, but right now, whoever supplies you atropine is a suspect in your father’s murder, and therefore somepony we need to speak to.”

There was a pause. Maeve blinked a little too quickly. Cadence was slightly worried at what she might do.

“Look at it this way.” she tried to calm her “The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we clear up this case and your father’s estate is allowed to be divided.”

She noticed Maeve’s chest fall in what must have been relief. With a dismal look, the mare answered.

“Netch. His name’s Netch. His...establishment lies on Forktongue Street just between the Lower and Middle Sector. I always went by train. I couldn’t take the carriage, Conkers tells Gormless everything.”

“Does Netch have any...relationship with the family.”

“Not that I know of.” Maeve looked away dourly and lit a cigarette “We used to be a couple. That was...how it started. He’d supply me for...favours. But as I got older those favours...changed. When the money ran out, I don’t want to think what he might have charged. He’s...not a very courteous steed.”

“I’m no stranger to those, Miss Maeve.” Cadence got up “Thank you for your time.”

*

Colonel Peregrine stood resplendent in his armour. The brass plate gleamed in the morning’s sunshine and his right shoulder pad was adorned with a sculpture of an alicorn princess spreading her wings from which hung his cloak of navy blue, decorated with red stars of the Marchion Auxiliary Garrison.

Cadence had grown to know him back in Canterlot when she and Shining were young. Whenever she would appear at the royal guard’s training grounds with little Twilight Sparkle to wish Shining well, which was often, Peregrine would always be around. She found the stallion a pleasant pony to know underneath his show of sternness among his troops.

As they approached the garrison, he greeted his old protégé and the lady of Canterlot with an open forehoof and a gracious smile.

“Welcome, my lady.” he proclaimed “I hope your visit here will not be in vain. Our investigations into the atropine smuggling have been...mostly fruitful. Perhaps we can shed light on each other’s investigations.”

“I hope so, Colonel.” Cadence replied with a smile.

“Have we got a warrant yet then, sir? For the vault?” Shining asked.

“Not yet but it should be ready soon. We thought we might catch this dealer while we’re waiting.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Cadence chuckled as they were let inside the barracks.

The place was well-kept, organised and at the moment, in the peak of mid-morning bustle. Passing by briefing rooms, training halls and even a karaoke bar, they found themselves in the forensics lab.

Two young ponies in uniform looked up from their work and turned to them.

One was a slim unicorn stallion with a bright-yellow coat, a pair of wide blue eyes and slick violet mane combed over his scalp, a single curl in the middle of his forehead. His cutie mark was a triple blue triangle.

The other was a petite pegasus mare with a slightly fluffy white coat, long eyelashes over green almond eyes and a pink ponytail tied in a red bow. Her cutie mark was an outline of a white cat.

Shining Armour smiled and greeted them.

“Angle! Kitty!”

“Hi Shiney!” the mare waved a hoof daintily, flashing them a bright smile.

“Shining!” the stallion approached with a warm smile and shook his hoof “It feels like years. How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad.”

“How’s Twiley?”

“She’s great. Still spends most days with her muzzle in a book.”

“I like her. She’s really cute.” Kitty giggled as she fluttered over.

Shining turned to Cadence and cleared his throat.

“Uh, Cade...my lady, you remember Right Angle and Kitty Wake don’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember. Right Angle always helped you find your way through the barracks, didn’t he.”

Right Angle shrugged.

“Somepony had to. First week at the academy, poor Shiney walked right into the lecture hall looking for the bathroom!”

“Angle!” Shining hissed, red in the face “Not in front of the...lady.”

Cadence muffled a giggle as she turned to the mare.

“And Kitty I remember at Twiley’s third birthday party. You were tickling her for hours.”

“Yeah, but I mean, who could resist that little smile?” Kitty gave a sigh “I’d do anything to be her foalsitter but I live so far away from Canterlot, it just wasn’t possible.”

“I’m not sure you qualify for a foalsitter when it seems you can’t be left alone for five minutes, Systems Officer Wake.”

Peregrine strode in, his stern ‘colonel-face’ rigid in his features. Shining Armour, Right Angle and Kitty Wake all snapped to attention and made way for him “You were asked to work on forensics. What have you found?”

“Sir.” Right Angle began “It was...mostly as you expected. As far as we can tell, the atropine has indeed been smuggled internationally, but not by any prominent organisation. Just a few dirt-bags who want to move up quick. But that’s only the known smugglers.”

“And what about the unknown smugglers?”

“Well...” Right Angle gave Kitty a befuddled glance “We don’t know. That’s why they’re unknown.”

Peregrine gave him a stern look.

“Don’t make me lose my patience, Sergeant.”

“Sorry sir.” Right Angle checked himself before Cadence piped up.

“I just got back from speaking to Maeve. She gave away the name of the dealer. A stallion called Netch.”

“I’ll go over our records.” Kitty Wake said quick as a flash before fluttering over to a tome, throwing it open and skimming it swiftly.

“It’s more likely he’s new on the block.” Right Angle pointed out before pausing and giving Kitty a smile “But, I mean, it won’t hurt. I’m sure if its in there, you’ll find it...”

Kitty looked up and fixed Right Angle with an adoring beam, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“Thanks, Right...I’ll make sure.”

Out the corner of Shining’s eye, he saw Peregrine roll his eyes with a discreet sigh.

“So...how does all this work? This Atropine smuggling?” Cadence asked, torn between disgust and fascination with the finer parts of crime in Equestria.

Kitty looked up and spoke as if reading from a database.

“Well you see, my lady, atropine’s a depressant narcotic that’s commonly found in several plants such as mandrake, thornapple, henbane, trumpet-shrub and the devil’s snare but is most strong in the Belladonna plant, better known as Deadly Nightshade. Medicinally, it’s used as an anaesthetic in small doses and has been used in cosmetics in some circles but as the plants that produce it suggest by name, in less than minute doses it’s deadly poisonous.”

More than a little impressed by her knowledge (And the speed by which it was delivered) Cadence nodded and replied.

“Okay...But how is it dealt? I mean, I only just found out about this smuggling business.”

“Well, for that, you need to speak to our First Lieutenant and Public Relations Officer. Where is she?” Peregrine grumbled.

“Oh, she’s in the shower I think.” Right Angle answered.

“Since this morning?” the Colonel barked, fast losing patience.

“She um...she didn’t go in alone.” the orange unicorn gave an awkward look as Peregrine face-hoofed.

“Give me strength!”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it now, sir? I’d be happy to oblige at any rate.”

A sultry voice cooed from behind them as First Lieutenant Bubble Bath approached.

Cadence’s eyes widened.

If this was First Lieutenant Bubble Bath then it either explained many things or just raised more questions, she wasn’t sure which.

The mare clearly fancied herself more a supermodel than a soldier, it was evident to see. She was a tall earth pony with a sleek aquamarine coat and shapely to an almost ludicrous degree. Her mane flowed down her neck and shoulders in a shimmering mixture of lemon-yellow and bubblegum-pink, streaked with hints of silver. Her eyes were a sea-green and the lids and lashes tinted with a dark violet. Her crimson lips gleamed with gloss and a tiny heart-shaped beauty spot adorned her right cheek. Her cutie mark, Cadence caught herself looking at it longer than she normally would, were a quartet of pink bubbles slowly turning heart-shaped the higher they went.

Her mane was wet and partially wrapped up in a towel as she trotted over, her long tail swaying to and fro. She gave a salute to Peregrine along with a wink.

“Reporting for duty, sir.”

Why did Cadence feel like a saxophone was playing in the background?

Peregrine gave her a look of disapproval.

“You’re late, First Lieutenant.”

“So sorry. I tried to make it quick.”

“Make what quick?”

“Anyway!” Peregrine snapped before Shining’s query could be made “What progress has been made, First Lieutenant?”

“Well, I could check on him but...”

“In the investigation, damn your eyes!”

“Right.” the mare chuckled and “We have isolated the trafficking. It definitely comes from the lower quarter. I spoke to a roadwork foreman, a couple of nurses and a few concerned parents and was able to track some of the city’s users. Three dens have been found in the last week and we blocked a secret passage in and out of the city that they’ve been using for smuggling.”

“Well...Very good work.” Peregrine said, his ardour fading as he turned to his first lieutenant “And how soon can we get the local militia’s co-operation?”

“Alas, Prince Herod’s death requires them to spend a week of mourning. Local watch is still running but active investigations are put on hold. It’s tradition.”

Cadence butted in.

“I was speaking to Maeve Sanguine. She told us the name of the dealer.”

“Excellent.” Peregrine gave an eager smile “Let’s hear it, my lady.”

“Netch. His name’s Netch and his den is somewhere on Forktongue Street.”

There was a pause.

Right Angle and Kitty Wake glanced at each other.

“Forktongue Street...” Bubble Bath mused “I had a feeling something iffy went on there. But we’ll have to check with the authorities.”

“The local force?” Shining asked.

“No...The real authorities.” Bubble Bath pressed a button on the desk and spoke into a transceiver.

“Please send the good sister to forensics.”

“Yes, ma’am.” the desk replied.

Peregrine then gestured to Kitty Wake who produced a scroll. Opening it, it revealed three family trees with old heraldic shields of early cutie marks.

The Colonel spoke.

“What you need to know is that ponies around here say that ‘Blood, Sweat and Tears built Marchion’. And the phrase has a more solid meaning than advertised. It actually refers to the city’s three founding families. So on the upper tier of Marchion society you have the Sanguines. Then you have the Persper family, they’re the most successful businessponies in the city, the middle-tier. The head of the family, Sir Wafton Persper, is the richest stallion in Marchion and his household’s bits support every local law-abiding business. And then...you have the Lacrimosa family, the lower tier.”

“Organised crime.” Cadence guessed.

“Exactly. The three families were once thick as thieves but nowadays they keep strictly to themselves. But they all know their trade. Crime in Marchion works very differently to cities likes, say, Manehattan or Los Pegasus. Those cities are melting-pots where various criminal classes all over the world set up shop and clash in the shadows. Marchion though, has little foreign relations and thus the crime here is centred, never venturing outside. This makes the Lacrimosas a comparatively small empire but one with complete control over their domain. Don Sorro Lacrimosa is a cautious fellow. He doesn’t believe in rattling cages. But nonetheless, they aren’t a family you want to mess with, not in their own city.” He shook his head dourly “This has what’s made our progress slower than we’d like. We don’t want to raise their guard. Not least because, if Equestria does make an enemy out of them, we can’t quite be sure which side the Sanguines will take.”

The doors behind them opened and a pony stepped in.

She was a pegasus with an azure coat and primrose-pink eyes. Her mane and most of her body, however, was covered by the black and white habit of an Agneian Priestess, the bronze pendant of the Holy Lamb hanging by a red silk ribbon round her neck. She smiled cordially at the entourage and bowed. As Cadence got a better look at her face, she noticed there was a faded but prominent scarring across her left cheek that had burned away the fur and marred her face permanently.

A burn, perhaps something acidic.

Bubble Bath introduced her.

“This is Niobe Lacrimosa, eldest daughter of Don Sorro. She’s been providing us with information on the local criminal classes for the past few years. Holy Sister, this is Lady Cadence and Sergeant Shining Armour, investigators into Prince Herod’s death and the atropine usage at Sanguine Hall.”

“I am honoured, sir and madam. May the Lamb bless you.” she beamed kindly at the two “I will gladly aid you in any way I can in this ordeal. The Sanguines have long been dedicated servants of the Agneia, fighting for them as they did for Marchion and Equestria. You are most gracious to help them in this hour.”

“Ah...thank you, ma’am, er...sister.” Shining replied bashfully “You worked with your family?”

Niobe blinked and spoke, every word calm and gentle.

“Once, in darker days. I learned my father’s craft and the edges of his reach. I was taught how to use it. But...that was before I found the Holy Lamb and thereafter devoted my life to the nursing and mending of the sick and needy. My stepmother chastised me grievously for it but...I have never felt more content.” She gave her pendant a little stroke, the eye above her scars twitching ever so slightly, before sincerity emboldened her voice “There is no deadlier start to a pony’s corruption than desperation. And the vileness of drugs feeds on it, a prison which the desperate cannot escape. I have been treating those broken or burned by the foul substances for over five years. Your Dr Caraway, in fact, consulted me at our hospital for advice in how to treat withdrawal but he could not reveal the identity of the poor sinner constricted by it nor the wicked one who supplied it.”

“Does your father deal in it?”

Niobe bowed her head.

“To my shame. The temptation to deal the substances is just as terrible and harmful as the temptation to use it. He despises atropine and those who use it but where there is a monopoly on the substance, he feels he must be at the head of it.”

“My...'contact' said it was on Forktongue Street, dealt by a stallion named Netch.”

There was a pause.

“Forktongue Street. You are quite certain?” the Agneian asked, to which Cadence nodded.

Niobe sighed.

“In that case, I may say with equal certainty that my father has no involvement with this den. Ten years ago, my youngest brother, LaMento, was killed in a carriage-crash on that street at six years of age...he was my father’s favourite.” Cadence thought she saw a tear in Niobe’s right eye “Ever since then, he has refused to even look upon the street. He makes no business or coin there. Any establishment on that road does not bear my father’s mark. Far worse ponies than him now rule Forktongue Street. This Netch does not have his protection.”

“That’s very good to know.” Peregrine nodded “I’ll prepare a raid. That’ll give us something to do.”

“Shall we join you?” Shining asked.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. We have Sunset Shimmer and Flash Sentry coming to lead the charge. The old girl’s been dying to do some crime-fighting.” he chuckled “Besides, we just got this. Might cheer you up.”

The Colonel retrieved a sheet of paper from a drawer and held it up.

“The warrant to investigate Prince Herod’s body. And Sir Persnickety is down to help identify it.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Colonel.” Cadence nodded and set to depart.

“See ya’ round.” Shining called, before turning to Cadence “So we’re digging up the dead tonight? Best not tell Twiley, it’ll give her nightmares for weeks.”

“Uh...yeah.” Cadence turned to Shining with something of a pleading air in her eyes “Shining...I’ve been exercising a theory and there’s only really one way to make sure. I need you to do something tonight and...you’re not going to like it.”

*

An owl hooted. Cadence wasn’t sure what kind.

Wrapped up in a coat, teeth slightly chattering in the midnight chill, she met with an entourage of guards alongside Sir Persnickety, clearly not very happy to be there.

She couldn’t blame him. Cracking open a mausoleum at dead of night wasn’t fun, even if the mausoleum didn’t belong to one’s own family.

But it was the only way. She didn’t want to think about what Shining was going through.

A grizzled, crimson-coated stallion in silver and scarlet armour stepped forward, a four-pointed star in the middle of his helm indicating he was part of the local force.

“Captain Toyle reporting, milady. The vault is opened at your instructions.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cadence nodded as he turned to Persnickety who looked slightly ill.

“I say, do I really have to do this?” he asked queasily.

“It won’t take a moment, sir, and the body won’t be in too bad shape. After all, you had him embalmed.” she replied.

“I...suppose.” he cricked his neck.

The great stone slab made a low rumble as it slid open wide.

Shining Armour gave a jump at a noise coming from the thicket. Shaking his head, he forced himself to get it together.

Held in his magical grasp, the shovel dug deep in the earth.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He felt like Old Bray from The Terrible Tale of Grogar the Treacherous books he used to read. The mad donkey began his career into evil by digging up bodies to experiment with, starting with his own family.

And while the body he was digging up would be used in an experiment, it certainly wouldn’t be for reanimation.

Or stitching together with other bodies.

Or anything else that gave Twiley nightmares.

He remembered his mother giving him quite a talking to for letting his little sister read such scary books. He’d explained that, strictly speaking, he hadn’t let her read them, she’d just found where he hid them.

As the shovel finally hit something other than soil, he gave the little makeshift grave a sorry nod.

‘Sorry Babbles.’ he thought ‘But we need him more than you do.’

Cadence was bracing herself.

Prince Herod had been embalmed. And he hadn’t been dead long.

She needed to stop imagining she was in a horror film.

The lid of the coffin was slowly removed as she walked beside Persnickety who was evidently bracing himself much harder.

“There we are. Now, Sir Persnickety...” she said calmly “Do you identify this as the body of your late uncle?”

Those present looked down at the body.

A moment later, Captain Toyle narrowly managed to grab Persnickety as the uptight noblestallion toppled over backwards unconscious. A couple of guards jumped back, startled.

Cadence’s eyes boggled.

“Sweet...Celestia!”

The alicorn walked quietly to the carriage without a word. Shining Armour was already in his seat, his face flat, his mind clouded.

As Cadence got in, she noticed a slight magical shimmer about the surroundings.

“Is that an airing spell?” she asked.

“Yeah, I cast it a while ago...” Shining said, gesturing to an old dirty shoebox “Unfortunately, the Sanguine’s didn’t have Scaramouch embalmed.”

“Ah...” Cadence shivered.

Shining gave her a look.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked “What did you find?”

“He was...bald!” she exclaimed “His entire body! Hairless! Mane, beard, the tail, even the edges of the fur, completely gone! It was all lying about him at the bottom of the coffin, like some sort of bed!”

Shining’s eyes widened.

“Snap!”

“What?” Cadence turned to him with a curious eye as the unicorn pawed at the shoebox lid.

“Brace yourself...”

Lifting the lid, Cadence drew back slightly at the week-old corpse of the Sanguine family cat, already shrivelled and slightly decomposed.

One thing was very evident though.

The cat had not a single hair left on his body. All of it had fallen out and covered the bottom of the box.

Stallion and mare looked to each other and spoke as one.

“Thallium!”

*

They were eating light. Neither of them had a whole lot of stomach for breakfast after last night’s grave-digging.

Cadence had been working late, the working board told that story well. Her hair was hanging about her head like a shroud.

Shining should have found it off-putting...and yet...

“It was never in the hot-drink.” Cadence said suddenly, throwing Shining out of his observations of the mare in front of her “That would have been too obvious. And this was exactly what they assumed Honeysuckle was. The poison came in Prince Herod’s medicine!”

“How do you work that out?” Shining asked.

“When I looked round the room, Aeschylus told me the tray that held his hot drink and medicine was spilt, some of it landing in the cat’s bowl! They all assumed it was one of his tantrums but it seems more likely Prince Herod spilled it in his death throes, reaching for his medicine he felt he needed more of.”

“And you’re sure its Thallium?”

“I am now.” the alicorn explained “In dilute form, Thallium Acetate is a medicine, Babbles’s medicine, used to treat parasites like her ringworm, and hence why she wears her bonnet and dress, to hide her lack of mane and tail. But taken neat, its deadly poison. My theory...” she held up the bottle of Thallium medicine she’d taken from the Sanguine’s flower room “...was that someone had broken open this bottle, given Prince Herod a fatal dose of the stuff mixed into his Milk of Magnesia, topped the bottle up with water and resealed it. Nopony would be the wiser.”

“Have you tested it?”

“Yeah, just last night, I tried burning some of it to see if it produced the tell-tale green flame. As it turned out, it produced no flame at all.”

“Diluted.”

“Exactly. Most of its been watered down. This whole bottle probably wouldn’t even give you a stomach-ache.”

“Don’t ask me to test that.” Shining butted in.

“Of course not, Shiney.” she chuckled “But it gives an idea of just how much was used here. At least 50 millilitres worth of deadly poison for one old pony. This was cold, Shining, horribly cold.”

Shining himself felt cold at the thought. All this time spent talking and laughing and consoling with the Sanguines.

All the while, somewhere among their number was a remorseless killer.

“So that’s why Scaramouch died? It wasn’t the ringworm at all.”

“It was the cure for it. Ironic really. I imagine that’s why it was buried quickly. A hairless cat would rather give the game away.” Cadence chuckled slightly but caught sight of Shining’s morose expression. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

“How did the raid go?”

“Pretty well. Peregrine and friends took the den by storm. Netch was arrested along with three other dealers and four street thugs on their pay-roll.”

“Anything murder-related?”

“Actually...yeah.” Shining tapped his hoof in recollection. “Netch isn’t saying anything, not up to it in any case.” He drew closer and whispered “He made the mistake of insulting Sunset Shimmer and threatening her with...shall we say...degenerate intentions. Her highness's student...rather took offence to that. He’s going to be a soprano for a month!”

“Ouch!” Cadence winced “But he’s not involved?”

“Not that it’ll help him. For smuggling atropine he is, essentially, violating the terms of Marchion’s vassalhood and indirectly threatening peace. He’s quite likely to get a life sentence.” he shook his head “But we caught a courier. A rather luckless zebra named Ekundu. Tried to run but when they cut him off, he came quietly. As far as we can tell, he just got in with the wrong crowd and has a little sister to take care of so hopefully, he’ll just get a month or two of community service. Peregrine’ll find something he can do.”

“Okay.” Cadence felt relieved to hear it “But did he tell us anything?”

“One thing that was rather important. Maeve always came in person to the dens to ‘collect her supply’ but the night before last, Ekundu was told to deliver a small parcel of Hydrated Nightshade just outside Sanguine Hall.”

“Really?” Cadence exclaimed “Did he say who asked?”

“Nope. All he remembers is that he pretended to follow a tour guide around the place, then on the written instructions, pushed the stash through a gap in the brick wall and no sooner had he done it than a wad of cash came through the same hole.”

“So somepony else is buying atropine...” Cadence pursed her lips “But why? And why now?”

There was a metallic whistle as the small crystal orb on their table blinked, suggesting a request for transmission.

Cadence lit up her horn and Alma’s face appeared.

“How’s it going?” she said perkily.

“Don’t ask.” Shining sighed “We’ve had a hay of a night and Prince Herod had a worse one.”

“I...won’t question it.” Alma gave an awkward look “So who’s our prime suspect now?”

“All or neither at this point.” Cadence sighed “The more I think about it, the less likely it seems to be that this was done out of greed. I mean, yeah, they all wanted the inheritance but at the dinner, they all got a fair share.”

“Except Runcible Spoon...and Dr Caraway.”

“Come on, Shining, they wouldn’t kill their own employer for it. Neither of them have a good enough reason.”

“Unless there’s some weird conspiracy none of us have caught onto yet.” Alma chuckled “I suppose though, Runcible would have seen the will long before it was read. And the other one.”

There was a clatter.

It turned out to be Cadence’s cereal spoon. Her eyes were wide, staring into blankness, mouth slightly open.

“The other one...” she whispered.

“Cadey?” Shining waved a hoof in front of her face.

“Alma...” Cadence said, her voice almost a shout “Repeat what you just said.”

“Uh...you mean about the conspiracy?”

“No, no, the last bit, exactly how you said it! Really important!”

“O-okay...” Alma said, puzzled “Runcible would have seen the will long before it was read. And the other one.”

The pink and purple alicorn shook her head.

“It was never one or the other with this, was it.” she sighed “It was both! It was always about both!”

“C-Cadey, what are you talking about?” Shining was losing patience “You mean it was Mr Runcible?”

“No, no, look, listen, we don’t have much time.” Cadence turned to the orb “Alma, sorry, I’m gonna’ have to put you on hold. Lives may be at risk!”

Before Alma could answer, Cadence’s horn lit up and focussed on the area around Sanguine Hall.

After several tentative moments, she stamped her hoof as the field in the orb dissipated.

“Damn it! Somepony’s already engaging the transceiver and I bet I know who!” She spun round and grabbed the befuddled Shining Armour by the shoulders “Shiney! We need to get to Sanguine Hall! Now!”

“Wh-what?” he burbled “You...you mean you know who did it?”

“Yes!” Cadence screamed, sheer panic in her eyes.

“And she’s going to do it again!”

Author's Notes:

Trying to get this done quick. Juggling four fics at once is really starting to strain.
Still, a lot of this chapter is building up Shining's friends in the guard and Marchion society, the rest is basically explaining how drug crime works in my headcanon.

By now you may have gathered that the 'Agneia' is the equivalent of the Catholic Church. 'Agnes' meaning 'Lamb of God' which I felt was the closest ungulate equivalent to Biblical theme.

And before you ask; No, I'm not implying religious people are sheep.
The Agneia is the opposite of Tambelon, sheep and goats utterly committed to light magic.
The ovine have a long, proud and noble history as Equestria does. While they lost their capital to Tirek during his invasion, they still prosper in various communities.

I take influence from manga and anime portrayal of Christianity, addressing it from a newcomer's point of view. Sort of mysterious with ways very different to the norm but just as committed to those ways.
It helps with the theme of 'So different yet so similar' that clashes of religious ideals are often portrayed as.

Chapter 9

“I don’t care what kind of cart it is, as long as it doesn’t have another damn pony pulling it along!”

Honeysuckle’s exasperated hiss ran into the transceiver as she positively crouched in the corner of the great hall, trying hard not to either scream or whisper, every hoof-step and voice around her causing her to jump. She was dressed in her full attire, clothes she could neither put away nor leave. A beret with an ebony-beaded veil, a blue-grey mink coat and as much jewellery as she had been granted by her late fiancé.

She’d require a fast car to get her safely to the station. Rented steam-powered cars were few and costly.
But it would be worth it.

“Yes, Sanguine Hall…Honeysuckle…” she repeated into the transceiver before sighing in frustration.

“Any station! I don’t care! Just please get me there!” She paused as the listener replied “Any chance of it coming sooner? Fine, fine, it’ll have to do...thank you.”

Throwing down the transceiver, she turned and saw the approaching butler with a concerned look in his elderly gaze.

Putting on a syrupy smile, Honeysuckle spoke.

“Aethcylus! There you are, you thilly old thing.”

“Can I be of service, madam?”

“You can, old colt…you can.”

The chaos of yesterday’s accusations and revelations seemed not to have touched the Sanguine family in the early morning. Breakfast was being served as usual with a selection of dishes on faux-silverware.

The Sanguines weren’t ridiculously rich, or at least chose not to show it. Their frugality was seen as curious by their equals but they nonetheless held onto the power a vassal state could possess.

Maeve Sanguine was sitting down with a scant portion and her head in her forehooves, the withdrawal headache blamed on the draughty night.

Ninienne sat down between her children, chortling as she held up a miniscule cream finger pastry.

“Do you know, I heard the most startling rumour that we won the Crystal War.” she hooted “If that’s true, I wonder how one can account for pastries this small?”

“Perhaps its Sombra’s secret weapon.” Blueblood piped up with a goofy grin. Ninienne chuckled lightly while Gwendolyn shook her head.

“Honestly, Gormless, you’re a complete nuisance.” Rowena sighed.

The young stallion shot her an imperious glance.

“That’s ‘Honestly, Prince Blueblood, you’re a complete royal nuisance’ if you don’t mind, Rowena.”

“Blueblood, we shall have less of that.” Gwendolyn said calmly as Rowena rolled her eyes at Bayard.

“Oh come on, mummy. What’s the point of being a prince if you can’t let ponies know it?” Blueblood sighed “I’m sure dear old papa was no stranger to reminding others the first time the title was his, isn’t that right Aeschylus?”

“Hm? Oh yes, sir.” The old stallion had just entered “I do recall, the old master did consider it quite necessary. Though, if I may say sir, your good father did once say that a true prince has no need to remind others of his standing.”

“A wise saying, Blueblood, you should take it to heart.” Gwendolyn added to which her son weighed his words and nodded.

“It will be good to start making some real changes back when I get to Canterlot.” he rubbed his hooves together “I’ve plenty of ideas to make the Sanguines that much more splendorous. I’m sure old Uncle Percy can be counted on to back me up, isn’t that right, old colt?”

“Oh…er…yes, of course…ahem, congratulations.” Persnickety sat groggily over his untouched breakfast, his appetite miniscule after last night’s endeavours.

“I’m sorry, Aeschylus, we rather cut you off. Was there something you wished to say?” Gwendolyn asked the befuddled-looking butler who shook his head and mumbled.

“Ah, yes, yes. Apologies, madam, beg your pardon but Miss Honeysuckle asks if she might have a word.”

At this, Gwendolyn tilted her head slightly, her gentle smile fading to a look of suspicion.

“I would ask why is she not asking this herself at the table?”

“Miss Honeysuckle is taking breakfast on the west terrace.”

“Aeschylus…” the mare raised an eyebrow “Are you saying that she expects me to come to her?”

“…If I may say so, madam, Miss Honeysuckle informed me that she is about to leave. She asked me to have her bags taken down a moment ago.”

All heads at the table turned to one another with alarm.

“She’s leaving?” A smile crept across Blueblood’s face “Do you mean the barnacle is finally letting go of the HMS Papa Herod’s Cash?”

“Good riddance, I say.” Cordelia clucked, turning to her nephew’s valet “Conkers, dear chap, on this occasion I shan’t mind at all if you throw her luggage around a bit. I might help you with it if there’s time.”

“There you all go again. Why are you all being so beastly to her?” Bayard sighed, throwing down his napkin.

“Oh, drop the chivalrous act, cousin of mine!” Blueblood scoffed “You’re fooling nopony.”

“For once, I have to agree with your cousin, darling. The mare’s a horror and you know it.” Ninienne said curtly “If I hadn’t stepped in, she’d be tying you round her hoof before Papa was even buried.”

“Mother…that’s simply not true.”

“Everypony please, do not fret.” Gwendolyn stood up in her stately manner “If Honeysuckle is due to leave, then I shall not stop her.” she shook her head “And if it means that she will cease this horrid game she’s tried to play on us all this time then I am utterly at her call. The west terrace, did you say, Aeschylus?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Give her what for, mummy.” Blueblood raised his teacup with a victorious smirk.

“Oh don’t worry, Blueblood.” she drew herself up primly “Just this once, I intend to make my opinion of her…quite clear.”

Smiles were passed around each other among the Sanguines as Blueblood added another sugar-cube to his tea and chuckled.

“What a lovely day this is going to be.”

In a cream and ink-black floral-patterned dress, Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine appeared to glide along the terrace path in the early morning. The birds and blossom were particularly abundant at this time of year.

Sanguine Hall looked glorious this morning.

And it would all be Blueblood’s, she thought to herself, warmed inside more than she could ever remember.

Years of drudgery for a belligerent egocentric who barely remembered his own son or how dear she had been to him.

It hadn’t all been bad of course but really, for all that had been done, this was the least she or her son deserved.

At last she could rest.

Honeysuckle was indeed taking breakfast on the west terrace, though her plate was empty and untouched and she was tilting an empty teacup in her hoof, a cigarette in her mouth. Another teacup sat opposite waiting for her daughter-in-law.

She gave a sardonic grin. Not her usual, toothy, sickly-sweet smile she wore around Prince Herod.

The façade was gone.

And Gwendolyn was glad of it.

“I knew you’d be having breakfast so I sent for an extra cup.” she said flatly in a lower, harsher voice than before “You want to sit down?”

“Thank you.” Gwendolyn said as she did so, her calm, measured tone betraying nothing “How can one resist being invited to take a seat in one’s own home?”

“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked to see you before I left…” Honeysuckle began, her smile still fixed on her features as she poured both of them tea “It’s because you’re the worst of them. You hate me the most.”

“My dear Miss Honeysuckle, you are mistaken.” Gwendolyn said, blinking perplexed at her words “I do not hate anypony.”

“Yes, you do.” Honeysuckle’s tone was sharper and colder, her eyes burning with indignation “You hate me more than everypony in that damned house put together! At least they had the decency not to cover it up!”

“Miss Honeysuckle, I will say truthfully, the methods by which you have lived by and risen in this household I find highly distasteful but I have never…”

“Oh, stop it. Just stop!” Honeysuckle snapped “Honestly, do you think you’re fooling anypony? All this sweet little mummy act day in day out but inside…I know what you are.” Her smirk returned “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know that if you’d been half-way decent to me, I would’ve gone shares. Honest.”

“You don’t say.” Gwendolyn spoke just as calmly as ever.

“Listen, I like money. Who doesn’t? It’s a hard life for a filly on her own.” the young mare was blinking rapidly, fixing Gwendolyn with a look of loathing “But what I say is enough is enough!”

She angrily stamped the cigarette into Gwendolyn’s saucer, then threw down her chair and turned her back to the breakfast table. As she looked out toward the green around Sanguine Hall, the house she had once assumed would be a paradise, she began sniffing, rubbing at her eyes and muzzle.

“You’re wrong about me! All of you!” she snarled “I’m not greedy! But I won’t be treated like I was dirt under ponies’ hooves! I have feelings!”

“I know. That’s why my father-in-law is dead.” Gwendolyn did not look her in the eye. She simply sat as straight and properly as ever, stirring both their teacups, her distaste now evident in her voice “We know all too well what sort of feelings you have.”

*

Cadence’s gilded hooves were almost chipping into the cobblestones as she and Shining Armour galloped to Sanguine Hall through the forest-side path, Colonel Peregrine, Captain Toyle and a squad of Equestrian and Marchion guards not too far behind. This path was longer but it avoided traffic and pedestrians. There’d be no chance they would be waylaid.

The Lady of Canterlot hoped to Celestia it would pay off. If she’d made a mistake, it would cost an innocent pony their life. Or perhaps several ponies.

She didn’t want to think about just how far the murderer would go.

*

“You are the one who fools nopony, Miss Honeysuckle. The guard are very likely at this moment rushing to Sanguine Hall. You’ve left it far too late to run.” Gwendolyn raised her teacup calmly “You’ve been found out.”

“No, I haven’t.” Honeysuckle sat back down with a smug sneer “Because I haven’t done anything. Never did. I’m as innocent as the flowers that bloom in the spring. Too bad for you. You can set them on me all you like. I’ll just smile and cry and flutter and before you know it, I’ll be out of there. Which means you’ll…” She waved her hand around Gwendolyn and the dining hall she’d exited from “…be out of here.” She drew her hoof around Sanguine Hall “Do you know, I reckon you ought to be grateful it ended here. I could have gone further…” she grinned “I could have married your little Gormless.”

“His name is Blueblood.” Gwendolyn’s eyes flickered.

“Whatever he’s calling himself now, he’ll be called worse than Gormless when this is over. But I tell you, he’d have done anything for the inheritance, he’d have even gotten married! Can you imagine what sort of husband he’d make?”

“Madam, you have no right to judge my son.” Gwendolyn’s tone was growing far darker than usual “You don’t know him.”

“Don’t want to. I’m not that desperate. Just remember that. He was the one begging for bits…not me.” She raised her teacup, cocking an aggressive glance at the frowning mare before her “And, just in case you’re getting any clever ideas, you might as well not bother contesting that damn will because I’ll fight it. And when I do…” she sipped “I usually win.”

There was a pause.

Honeysuckle cleared her throat as if she’d caught something in it.

Calmly, Gwendolyn picked up her teacup, brushing away the cigarette ash her nemesis had left, and raised it to her lips with one final retort.

“We shall see, Miss Honeysuckle…We shall see.”

“Stop!”

The alicorn soared into view, landing just before the west terrace. Honeysuckle spun round in shock, staring blankly at the alicorn as a breathless Shining Armour followed up behind. Cadence’s face was a picture of terror as she bellowed.

“Don’t drink from that cup!”

Nearly jumping in her seat, Gwendolyn placed the cup down snappily and glanced bewildered at Cadence.

“Why shouldn’t I? Is there something wrong?”

Cadence looked at the stately Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine who’d smiled and spoken so calmly and politely all the while.

Then she spoke, her voice loud and fierce.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Gwendolyn!”

Shining Armour watched, speechless, as everything changed in a heartbeat.

Honeysuckle stared, goggle-eyed and open-mouthed, her half-empty teacup crashing upon the terrace tiles. One of her bejewelled hooves clutched at her stomach as her hind legs steadily gave way. Small cries of pain became drawn-out wails of agony as she desperately reached out with a shaking forehoof.

“Help…Oh gods, help!”

“D-don’t worry!” Cadence called from the other end of the garden, hooves ready to run “We’re here to help.”

“Not necessary.” The murderer’s horn glowed a misty blue and a field of impassable magic rippled in front of them.

Shining drew back while Cadence looked from one mare to the next frantically.

Gwendolyn stared at them with a look that seemed alien.

Gone was the patient, mild-mannered, ever-responsible widow and mother that did all she could and asked for nothing.

Standing before them now was a mare who had murdered a pony.

Very intentionally.

And wasn’t afraid to do so again.

“Walk away.” she said flatly “There’s nothing left for you here. It’s over.”

“No! I’m not letting you do this!” Cadence yelled, her horn glowing magenta as she let up a counter-spell.

A dilemma sprung in her mind. If she exhausted her magic on dispelling the shield, her magic would be useless in curing the effects of the poison Honeysuckle was suffering. Looking at the poor mare, clutching at her chest, face contorted with pain, time was fast running out.

Cadence shook her head frantically, almost screaming.

“You...you can’t do this!”

“Yes, I can. And I fear I must.” Gwendolyn answered flatly.

“She didn’t kill anypony!” Shining Armour pleaded through the field to the stone-faced murderess “She’s innocent!”

“That is not something I plan on letting others know.” she replied, her tone of voice eerily serene “Please walk away. I don’t want to do anything desperate, you've already seen what that leads to. You’ve worked very well, I do mean that, but it really is in your best interests to leave.”

“It won’t work! We know how you did it! Whatever you say won’t hold up in any court.”

“My dear lady...” Gwendolyn reached for a small fork on the breakfast table, examined the sharpness of it and rested against her neck “I have no intention of saying anything...”

“You’re...you’re crazy!” Shining spluttered.

“Make whatever conclusions you like. I really must insist you walk away.”

Cadence drew back slightly and turned nervously to Shining Armour.

“Shining, I need you to help me shut down this shield...” she whispered “Then knock her down. I need to save Honeysuckle.”

“Right...” the stallion gulped.

The two bowed their heads as their horns illuminated. Twin auras of azure and fuschia lit up behind Gwendolyn’s shield, its caster shielding her eyes and giving a frustrated scowl.

“I said walk away.” She hadn’t heard their plan nor did she fully understand it. Magic shields muffled outside sound, hence why Cadence had yelled. Beside her, Honeysuckle was grabbing at the leg of the breakfast table, her teary, bloodshot eyes staring up at her poisoner.

“Please...don’t...” she gasped “I'm sorry...You can have it...You can have it all, just...don’t do this...”

“I’m terribly sorry, dear mother-in-law,” Gwendolyn gave her dismal look “...but you’ve left it a sight too late for that.”

She turned away...

Right as the shield gave way to Shining and Cadence’s combined magic.

A sound not unlike shattering glass echoed in her ears as the defensive field broke and the full force of Shining Armour, clad in his namesake, crashed into her, pinning her down. With a scream, she tried to push him off, staring in horror as Cadence rushed over to the prone Honeysuckle.

“No! No! Stop! Don’t do that!” Gwendolyn shrieked, all her usual calmness and grace lost as she flailed around frantically “You can’t let her live! You mustn’t!”

“Yes, I can. And I fear I must.” Cadence echoed her words with fire in her eyes as her horn lit up. Pressing a hoof to the writhing Honeysuckle’s chest. Her hoof shook and pressed lightly but suddenly.

With a heave, Honeysuckle threw up long and loudly. A stagnant mixture of tea and water poured out of her mouth along with whatever poisons had mixed into it. Gasping and groaning, the mare hugged tight at Cadence’s shoulders and edged back from her attempted murderer.

“Get her away! Keep her away from me!”

“It’s fine. It’s alright. Nopony will hurt you.”

Behind them came the thunder of hooves as Colonel Peregrine, Captain Toyle and the rest of the guard galloped into view.

Peregrine gave a dour chuckle as she grabbed hold of Gwendolyn’s hooves as the murderer ran out of energy.

“Well, now, Sergeant. Is that a proper way to handle a lady?” he said as the hoof-cuffs gave a dull click.

*

“So...What was your little scenario?” Cadence asked, disdain in her face and voice “Trapped Murderess Commits Suicide?”

Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine sat sullenly on a chair in the centre of the living room. She hadn’t needed cuffs kept on her.

Her face proved that. Her eyes were half-closed and barely awake. Her lips were drooped in a disillusioned frown.

She looked dead to the world.

“Something like that.” she replied flatly.

“It would certainly seem so.” Peregrine appeared and threw down a small white package.

Cadence knew what was in it before even opening it and where it had come from.

“Hydrated atropine.” she said aloud “Left in Honeysuckle’s room. You of all ponies, Miss Gwendolyn, wanted her and no other to fall under suspicion. The mysterious presence of the horrid drug and the smuggling thereof would be linked directly to her. Maeve would be seen as completely innocent but cut off from the drug, no matter what it did to her. But once Mr Runcible and the courts were safely convinced the Sanguines were completely spotless in terms of abiding the law, all would be well.” She turned at the stallion who cast his eye over the culprit.

“So...This was all about the will?” Peregrine supposed.

“Not the will. The wills.”

“What the blazes is going on?!” Ninienne’s shrill voice cut the silence as she and the rest of the family swarmed into the room, their faces all pictures of shock.

Cadence noted Blueblood wasn’t present.

She dreaded how he’d react.

“Honoured Sanguines.” Cadence said, making sure to take the pride of achievement well salted “I have discovered the culprit behind the sordid goings-on at this Hall.”

“Wh-where?” Persnickety glanced around, adjusting his monocle.

Clearing her throat softly, Cadence held a hoof in front of the seated Gwendolyn. From how she looked, it was uncertain if she was actually looking at her family.

All mares and stallions entering slowly worked things out.

Slowly, they all sat down at the couches and settees present. The usual Sanguine pride and glamour was gone.

They all stared with wide, stunned eyes, open mouths and trembling hooves.

“Aunt Gwen...” Rowena murmured “It can’t be true.”

“I’m afraid so.” Peregrine said gruffly.

“But...I mean...What about Honeysuckle?!” Cordelia spluttered “All the evidence pointed to her!”

“As Gwendolyn always intended.” Cadence replied “The anonymous letters, the missing rat poison, and of course, the death of Prince Herod.”

“But...how?! And why?!” Ninienne gasped.

At this, Cadence turned to Gwendolyn with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you want to tell them or shall I?”

In a somewhat tired fashion, Gwendolyn looked up at Cadence and, to her surprise, smiled slightly.

“Oh by all means, my lady, the honour is yours...”

An eerie silence hung over the room before Cadence sighed and began her revelation.

“It all started with the two wills written by the late Prince Herod many days prior to the evening of his murder.” she explained “His murder was a premeditated act. It could only have been fully planned out at least a day before the reading of his will. Yet Prince Herod kept both wills in his room at all times. That left only one pony who could have read them without Prince Herod’s permission; the housekeeper.” she glanced at Gwendolyn “Where did you find them?”

Gwendolyn gave a shrug.

“Under his old theatrical costumes. He told me to prepare his Macheath garb for his portrait two days before Miss Alma Rose arrived.”

“Ah...” Cadence nodded, everything falling into place.

“Purely by accident, just doing your rounds...And there, you see it. The sword swinging above your head.” The alicorn shook her own head “What better proof of his megalomania and the damage it could reap upon you? The two wills. One of reward and long-lasting security, the other of punishment and total calamity. So now you know the contents of both of them yet you have no real clue which one Herod will announce, given his erratic temperament. So there you decide to put an end, once and for all, to the old stallion’s power games.” She continued pacing around.

“You order fine crayfish for the birthday feast, knowing full-well that your discouragement of such a thing will only make him more insistent on it. ‘Putting your hoof down’ after all, has only worked against your favour thus far. And then, if the champagne doesn’t do the trick...you give him a helping hoof.”

Her eyes darkened at the murderess whose own expression hadn’t changed.

“You spike his Milk of Magnesia with a lethal dose of thallium. Then you pour out an extra helping, just in case.”

“In case of what?” Bayard asked tentatively.

“In case of Will Number Two, the one that leaves everything to Honeysuckle.” Cadence answered “If it was announced there and then, Honeysuckle would never have lived to collect. But that was what the atropine was for. It would be stashed in her room and left waiting. And once Honeysuckle had ingested the thallium in say, an evening or morning drink or tonic, the drug would be strewn around her to give the impression of a fatal overdose...provided of course, the coroners got to her quickly before the post-death symptoms would show or rather failed to show, as they did with Herod before his hair fell out.”

“That’s why I’m still sick then.” Babbles said flatly, the quietest she’d been since Cadence had known her “And why Scaramouch died?”

“It would seem so.” Cadence answered before holding out her hooves almost theatrically “But then disaster strikes! All your plans ruined. All because of the portrait...and what your son does to it.”

“No!” Gwendolyn snapped suddenly, fire in her eyes as there never had been before “He never wanted to. That infernal succubus tricked him!”

“Believe what you will, the effect doesn’t change. Prince Herod signs the second will and dies. It never would have been an issue...If it hadn’t been for Alma Rose’s unique inquisitiveness.” She noticed Gwendolyn sighed at this. not out of any resentment, merely disappointment.

“So the objective turns, not so much into proving Honeysuckle’s guilt to us...but to Honeysuckle herself. Driving her over the edge, one suspicion after another. So that when the time came for her to die, just as it had been for Herod, Honeysuckle would be the top suspect. And when we came on the scene, you demonstrated just how far you were willing to go." She breathed deep "You would have tried to kill us if you could...then yourself. All so that Honeysuckle would be blamed for every wrong inflicted on the Sanguine family that they and the police would know of.”

“But...why?” Ninienne’s voice cracked as she stared at her sister-in-law with streaming eyes “Paradise above, Gwen, how could you?!”

“How could I?! You ask me how could I?!” Gwendolyn’s face became angrier than Cadence had ever seen as she shot to her hooves, eyes boring into her in-laws. Peregrine stepped between them sternly.

Cadence made to ready a spell.

Then she noticed Gwendolyn eyes were full of tears alongside her family.

The hurt. Years of it.

It all showed clearly on her face for the first time.

“For the same reason you and Cordelia kept quiet about the elopement over there!” she gestured with a hoof, shaking with fury, at the stunned Rowena and Bayard.

There was a pause.

Gwendolyn’s answer came choked and cracked, rage giving way to despair and the self-pity.

“For our children.”

*

Shining Armour hadn’t known what to expect from a Marchion Hospital.

Since coming here, he’d reminded himself they were still technically in Equestria and the two cultures had influenced each other since Laurelore’s time. All in all, there was a bit less white and a bit more sepia but otherwise he didn’t find anything greatly different about the general place.

He stood beside Honeysuckle’s bed, Captain Toyle outside, as the mare finally came around.

“Oh gods...my throat...” she croaked, wrestling her bloodshot eyes open.

“Ah, Miss Honeysuckle.” he gave a polite salute and passed her a glass of water “How are you feeling?”

“How do you bucking think I’m feeling?” she growled, grabbing the water and taking a grateful swill of it “Sweet Tartarus, what did she give me?!”

“About three-hundred millilitres of pure thallium.” Shining answered flatly “Certainly enough to kill but slower. I believe it was Gwendolyn’s intention to wait until you could no longer speak then rush for help only for it to arrive too late. At least, provided we didn't show up when we did.”

Honeysuckle stared blankly into space before twisting the edges of the blanket in indignation.

“The sick little nag! She poisoned me! She...she poisoned Roddy?”

“All to avoid the inheritance going to you.” Shining answered “Cadey, I mean Lady Mi Amore Cadenza, worked it out early this morning. Gwendolyn had found both wills and...I suppose she saw it as betrayal. She used Babbles’ medicine, planned it all out. But then you and Blueblood messed around with that portrait and Herod brought out the second will. She had to act fast to frame you for the murder. Then when you announced you were leaving, I suppose she saw it as her last chance.”

“She’s a nut! She’s completely round the twist!”

“I’d say she was desperate. Tipped over the edge.” Shining said gravely “She’d worked all her life to get where she was at the end of it all. She’d come from nothing, fallen in love with a noble Sanguine, and spent every moment after braving the scrutiny of his family.”

There was a pause.

Honeysuckle spoke in little more than a whisper.

“Like me.”

“In a way.”

“...So what happens now?”

“Well, once you’ve recovered, you’ll be moving into Sanguine Hall. I believe the family will all be vacated to resume their...various positions as per the terms of Prince Herod’s second will, barring Gwendolyn of course.”

There was another pause.

“No.”

Shining Armour turned to Honeysuckle who looked at him with a resolute gaze.

“Miss Honeysuckle?”

“You heard me. I don’t want it. Not the house, not the money, it’s all cursed to me. I’m done with the Sanguines.” she shook her head “You think this’ll be the end for them? I take up roost in their Hall and it’ll be like serving a life sentence. Looking over my shoulder, changing the locks every day, choosing where and when to sleep. I don’t want to live like that, no matter how many bits you have to show for it...” She looked him fully in the eye “They can keep it. They can keep it all.”

“But...” Shining was nearly speechless “If you formally refuse the terms of Prince Herod’s second will...that would technically mean the first one stands, I suppose I'll have to talk it over with Runcible once he gets here.”

“You can save him the trouble! I don’t want one ploughing coin!” Honeysuckle snapped “Let them have it and let the lot of them poison each other over it as far as I’m concerned!”

“So...” he tilted his head “What will you do now?”

She shrugged with a slight smile.

“Well it’s bound to make the headlines, isn’t it. Here at least and if it brought you to our doorstep, maybe Canterlot itself. The poor young wife of a family patriarch framed and nearly murdered by a housekeeper? It could make a nice play.” Her smile grew broader as she patted Shining’s shoulder with her own “You don’t need to worry about me, darling. I’ll have quite a few stories to tell and plenty of ponies to listen. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you and your dear lady. Good luck with her by the way.” She gave a wink.

“S-sorry, what?”

“Well, thanks very much for saving my life and all but,” she gave a look at the door were raised voices could be heard, clamouring for Honeysuckle “I believe my public awaits.”

“...as you wish.” Shining left without another word as the doors opened. Commander Toyle cautiously made way for a gaggle of journalists who swarmed into the room, chattering over each other.

The sweet, syrupy voice of Honeysuckle returned to her as she wrung her hooves and sobbed.

“Oh, oh, thank you. Thank you for your sympathies, dear ponies. But...but you must give me a moment, it was all so...oh...so dreadful...”

“Of course, Miss Honeysuckle, in your own time.”

Toyle gave Shining a nod as he took over watching Honeysuckle as the blue-maned unicorn reached for a transceiver.

‘Just what will Cadence make of this?’he wondered.

*

“It is funny, isn’t it, my lady.” Gwendolyn’s voice sounded exhausted “We will do things for our foals that we would never dream of doing for ourselves. You ask me if I killed Prince Herod for the money left to me?” She tossed her hoof “I’ve no need nor want of it. But to see my son greet the doors of Celestia’s palace as a prince of his homeland, to see him find a life outside of the one tossed to him by his grandfather like a bone to a hound, to see him freed from the cold contempt of hypocrites!” She positively hissed at her in-laws who sat stock-still, saying nothing as she sighed.

“I would do anything. Anything at all...for all the good it did me.” she hung her head “It matters not.”

“So it would seem.” Cadence said as Peregrine replaced the cuffs on Gwendolyn. Her transceiver went, the crystal glowing and humming slightly. Holding it to her ear, she listened.

Her eyes widened.

“I see...” she said slowly “Thanks, Shiney.” Putting away her transceiver, she turned to the speechless family and announced her new findings.

“It seems that this hasn’t been an utter tragedy for the Sanguine family after all. That was Sergeant Shining Armour who was with Honeysuckle at the hospital. She has formally renounced her inheritance to the Sanguine fortune. Which means, in summary once Mr Runcible goes over it...the terms of the first will stand.”

Sanguines one and all turned to each other with stunned looks. Slowly Gwendolyn’s breaths strengthened one after the other until she burst out laughing.

Not the laughter of a madpony at all. It was relieved, positively exhausted.

“Thank the gods!” she gasped “Thank the gods...at last...at long last...”

“I don’t know what you have to laugh about, ma’am.” Peregrine said gruffly “You get nothing more than a cell...and, under Marchion law, a noose.”

“My dear officer,” she said with a delirious grin “I care not a jot. I have exactly what I wanted, what I set out to do. I regret nothing. Absolutely nothing! Do with me as you wish...my son is safe. That is all.”

“Mother!” There was the sound of a slamming door as the bedraggled, breathless figure of Blueblood rushed into the room, Conkers not far behind.

Evidently, the valet had been sent to pull Blueblood from wherever he’d been frolicking and delivered him the unfortunate news.

The young stallion gawked at the scene, goggle-eyed.

“What the ploughing hay is going on here?! Has the world gone mad?!” he screamed “What are you doing to her?!” He pointed a shaking hoof at Peregrine, his blue eyes blazing “Let her go at once, you bungling cur!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.” the pegasus answered brusquely.

“As Prince of the realm, I command it! You!” he pointed to Cadence “Just what in Tartarus do you think you’re playing at?!”

“Solving your grandfather’s murder.” she replied evenly.

Blueblood gripped his temples with one hoof with frustration and yelled.

“Is your skull really as thick as your flanks?! Honeysuckle is the murderer, you idiots! It was obvious from the start! Why can’t you see that?!”

“Okay...firstly, head as thick as my flanks? You should count yourself pretty damn lucky I’m pretending I didn’t hear that. And secondly...” she took a deep breath and let the bit drop.

“Honeysuckle was not the culprit. Miss Gwendoline Aerie Sanguine was caught in the act of poisoning her this morning...in the very same way she poisoned Prince Herod.”

Blueblood’s ardour collapsed on itself like a sodden bank falling in on itself in a rainstorm.

He turned with sunken eyes and shaking hooves, looking at his mother who stood looking at him with, for the first time, true regret.

“No...this isn’t true. It can’t be...Mother, tell them.” his voice cracked “Please tell them!”

Gwendolyn shook her head and sighed.

“Oh Blueblood...” she whispered “My dear, beautiful boy.”

“Mother, what’s going on?!” his voice was descending into frightened babbling “Why are they doing this?! You didn’t do anything, you didn’t...” he fell to his knees “Mother, please...”

“Blueblood, hush.” she said softly “You’re a prince. And a prince must be strong, remember? I always told you...ever since you were a foal. All the tales and stories I told you...They’ll come true for you now.”

“But...mummy?” Blueblood broke down, sobbing in front of his mother in the middle of the room.

Cadence watched without a word. It was honestly impossible not to pity the young stallion there and then.

All he’d ever waited for, all he’d ever dreamed of.

At the cost of the dearest, truest part of his family.

“This isn’t what I meant...” he wept “This isn’t what I wanted!”

Gwendolyn’s eyes began sowing tears of her own. She turned to Peregrine with desolation in her voice.

“Officer...Please, may I hold my son...One last time?”

The Colonel gave Cadence a look, who nodded. The cuffs on Gwendolyn’s forelegs were undone and the mare swept up her son in a hug as he cried into her shoulder.

“Blueblood. Listen to me.” she whispered, kissing him on the forehead “It’s alright. I will be fine, I promise. I am content. You will be prince, live in safety and harmony and without any worries at all. I could not have wished for more.”

“Don’t leave me...” Blueblood whimpered, eyes and nose running as he wept “Please...It’s not fair...”

“Hush, Blueblood. You need to be brave for me, do you understand?” she said softly but firmly.

Motherly.

“You will be fine. I promise.” she smiled “Your father would be very proud...I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again but...I know he’ll be looking down on you...always.”

She stood up with a solemn face and looked to Aeschylus who stood stone-faced at the woman who’d killed his friend and master.

“Aeschylus...dear old stallion.” she said forlornly “I know I have no right to ask this of you after...what I’ve done. I don’t blame you for what you must think of me. But I beg you, for the love and respect you and I both had for Lockhart...please take care of my son.”

The butler looked to Gwendolyn, then to Blueblood, then to Gwendolyn again. He sniffed deeply, blinked several times, and spoke, trying to force his voice to remain strong.

“Very well...Miss Lazuli.”

There it was. Lapis Lazuli. Not Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine. Not the name Herod had given her.

She was dead to Sanguine Hall.

With one last kiss upon her son’s forehead, Lapis Lazuli held out her forehooves to Peregrine, who placed her cuffs back on and turned her towards the door. Glancing back at the shell-shocked Sanguines, she said one last thing.

“Goodbye everypony.”

As Cadence followed, she looked back as Blueblood fell to the ground, letting out a howl of grief as his worst nightmare came to fruition.

His mother was gone.

Ninienne, once so full of smarm, rushed to his side, clasping his foreleg pityingly, unable to hide her own tears. Cordelia followed with Persnickety clutching his nephew’s shoulder. Bayard and Rowena held both him and each other between them for comfort. Even Maeve held his shoulder and Cadence noticed little Babbles walk slowly and quietly towards her once-loathed cousin and gently hold his forehoof.

For the first time she’d seen them, the Sanguines were a family.

Just now, in their darkest moment, from which they may never recover.

Bowing her head sullenly as the afternoon cloud greeted them without much merriment, Lady Mi Amore Cadenza closed the doors on Sanguine Hall.

Author's Notes:

And there it is.
Sorry for the sad note.
I'm going to make a epilogue later on. Won't take me long.
It may soothe things a bit.

I set out with this story to see if I could make my audience feel genuinely sorry for Prince Blueblood. An arduous task for most.
How did I do?

Chapter 10: Epilogue

“Who was it that said ‘Poison is a mare’s weapon?’, do you know?” Cadence found herself asking Shining as they, alongside Colonel Peregrine, made their way through the Royal Gardens of Canterlot, far warmer and livelier than old, secluded Marchion.

Shining shrugged.

“I bet Patch the librarian would know. But from those words I can only assume somepony with very little respect for mares.”

“And stallions.” Peregrine added. The two turned to him with puzzled looks.

“Think about it.” he said “A pony can kill very easily with a sword, a knife, an axe, an arrow, a big stick, even without meaning to. All they need to do is get very cross with something and reach for the nastiest thing they find. Arms of passion, as it were.” His tone darkened. “But poison is patient and calculating. A pony really has to want somepony to die, even if they’re not around to see it, whether its peacefully in their sleep or writhing in agony for hours or rendered helpless and infirm for days on end. Is a stallion really so much meeker and duller than a mare that they are to be denied such a weapon?”

There was a pause.

“I...couldn’t say, sir.” Shining said with a hint of worry in his eyes.

Peregrine chuckled.

“I’m messing with ya’. I’d never touch the stuff. But I’d say neither could most mares I’ve met.”

“I suppose that’s the trouble with ponies who take up poison.” Cadence said sullenly “They never know when to stop. If it worked so beautifully last time, why not the next? What’s to stop them bumping off anypony who gets in their way. I imagine after spending so long as a glorified servant, that power must have felt very inviting.”

She sighed.

“Especially in the case of a mare who pretends to be the most firm and sensible of mothers and yet whose son is in fact the most adored be-all and end-all of her life. She gave up everything for him, her career, her freedom, her name! Even his presence around her when he was sent away as a hostage while her husband died. Reduced to an unpaid housekeeper, tossed around by her family, swept up in her father-in-law’s power game...all so that her son would one day be a prince.”

“Still doesn’t make her innocent.” Peregrine added.

“Well, of course not.” Cadence said as they neared their destination “I can’t imagine what sort of world it would make if it did.”

Shining shook his head and muttered.

“It’s the cat I feel sorry for.”

Blueblood’s new lodgings were an impressive one. The corridor itself could well have housed as many works of art as the royal gallery. Cadence knew them well, she’d grown up here. She’d memorised many of the sights. Priceless Chineise Mang Vases and ceramics, colourful carpets from Saddle Arabia, Haissan and Ashwar, ornamental helms and mails from the Age of Knights when Equestria and Stirrope met and fought as one; there was even a mural of the famous Entry Of Lusaira by the famous Vorpal Blade.

The attention to detail in the face of Princess Lusaira of Erivara as she petitioned Princess Laurelore for aid for the ponies of the Aswan realms against Tirek and his allies, was remarkable. Lusaira’s beauty seemed to overshadow Laurelore’s.

Perhaps none-too-coincidentally, Vorpal Blade and Lusaira would become husband and wife years after Tirek’s defeat.

Whether Blueblood had any real interest in such art remained uncertain but it was highly unlikely he was in the mood for any of it.

Finding his room was fairly easy. One only had to follow the path marked by old Sanguine portraits. The grim, unsmiling visage of King Roth Redstar greeted them just as they turned the corner.

Looking at his stern visage, Shining remembered something Patch had once said about ponies of his time.

‘The Second Age of Magic. A nice name for such a chaotic age.’

Peregrine knocked brusquely on the door.

There came a gruff reply.

“Clear off! I’m not accepting visitors, is that clear?”

“We’re not visiting, Blueblood.” she said then counted down.

3, 2, 1.

The door swung open.

Blueblood had been drinking. His eyes were bloodshot, his mane was ruffled and his breath was stagnant.

Stumbling a bit, he scowled at the ponies before him and growled.

“How dare you show your faces to me after what you’ve done! Haven’t you caused enough grief?”

“I’m just going to assume by that, you mean ‘Please. come in, whatever you have to tell me must be important.’” Peregrine said gruffly.

Blueblood’s eyes blazed as he pointed a hoof at the Colonel.

“Listen, you miserable, thick-skulled...”

“Your highness,” Cadence began, knowing that getting used to addressing this stallion in such a way would not be easy “What we have to say will concern you very dearly. Please may you let us in.”

The prince was quiet, fixing them with a venomous glare.

After perhaps a span of fifteen seconds, he begrudgingly let them in.

Conkers was present in the room, pouring his employer what could only be called ‘one more’ drink. There was no telling how many he’d already poured.

Cadence noticed neither stallion offer them a drink but she paid it no mind.

What she had to say was important and had to be said here and only here.

“You should understand that by all the laws of Marchion, Miss Lapis Lazuli, better known as Gwendoline Aerie Sanguine, is sentenced to death.” Shining said flatly.

Blueblood shook his head, turning away from them.

“What is the matter with you?!” he growled “Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of putting my mother through this or did Honeysuckle bewitch you too?”

“This isn’t a joke, Blueblood.”

“Do you see me laughing?!” he squawked “My mother has lived every moment of her life hoping I would get where I am now. Do you think it’s funny that she has to die for it?”

It was here that Peregrine spoke up, fixing Blueblood with a disdainful scowl.

“May I remind ‘your grace’ that his mother, nice as she may have been to your good self, has killed a pony, her own father-in-law, and tried to kill another, his widow, without any regret on her part?”

“Colonel, please....” Cadence interjected.

At Peregrine’s words, Blueblood’s rage dampened under his melancholy. Gloomily sitting down, he held his head in his hooves and struggled to keep composed.

“Why?” he murmured “Why her?”

“My liege, your ability to imagine conspiracies against your family does not befit your new title.” Cadence said flatly “I am truly sorry for your predicament but I cannot apologise for your mother’s. She knew very well what she was doing and what she wanted out of it.”

“But...It’s not fair.”

“Not for you, I agree. But I’m afraid there is no other cause of action for your mother.” she sighed deeply and retrieved a letter from her blue cape of office “However...”

At the word, Blueblood jumped up, eyes wide with a spark of hope.

“Yes?”

“I have been speaking with various authority figures between the city of Canterlot and the Principality of Marchion...And there have been certain...rearrangements.”

“Wh-what rearrangements?! Tell me!” Blueblood was close to screaming, his forehooves shaking.

Cadence opened the letter and summarised its contents.

“As a pony guilty of first-degree murder and attempted-murder, Lapis Lazuli, aka Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine, would under Marchion code of law be sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. However, we have looked into the act itself and the effects therein. Lapis Lazuli murdered the Prince of Marchion, which officially makes it an affair of the Monarchy of Canterlot where, in times of peace, the death penalty is prohibited. Technically, it would be up to the Prince’s successor to oversee her judging but...” she cast her eye at the Prince “I’m afraid, for obvious reasons, that would not be permissible in this case.”

Blueblood twisted his lips ruefully but said nothing.

“As of this morning, Gwendolyn Aerie Sanguine is now a prisoner held in Canterlot Royal Penitentiary and thus escapes the death sentence. However, the crimes she stood for in Marchion apply here in very much the same light and as such, she would, under regular circumstances, suffer a life sentence.”

There was a pause.

“I see.”

“However, Raven Inkwell informed me that matters of circumstance would also be taken into consideration. Your mother committed murder to attain a goal she has acquired, not necessarily by doing so, and the would-be victim of her attempted murder no longer poses her any form of foreseeable threat. So that if, by any means entirely, she was to be released, your mother would be considered publicly safe and unlikely to reoffend.”

“Of course! Of course she would, I promise!” Blueblood was close to jumping up and down.

Cadence raised a hoof.

“However, that still only marginally mitigates her sentence. The minimum sentence for the crimes she is guilty of is forty-five years without parole.”

Blueblood looked at her with eyes unfamiliar to her.

They were no longer the eyes of a spoiled noble too used to getting his own way.

Looking at her was a foal who’d lost his mother.

And he sounded like one too.

“Is there...is there really no chance of her being released any earlier?”

“Well, Lord Magistrate Nitpick suggested halving the sentence in exchange for a sizable stipend from your funds but Chairstallion Fancy Pants felt it best to...firmly...point out that the word for that is ‘bribery’.”

“I see...” Blueblood said quietly, rubbing at his eyes “But is there still any chance?”

“There is some chance that she could get time off for good behaviour.” Shining Armour said uncertainly “But only five years off at the most. Please, understand, my liege, that what your mother did cannot be overlooked.”

“We understand that she loved you dearly and you loved her in turn. Nopony would fault either of you for that.” Cadence added sincerely “But it doesn’t make any difference to her crime. You do realise that, don’t you”

“...Yes...” he murmured, turning away “I...I realise that. I just...” He turned back to them, the melancholy on his face mixing with fear “Did I do this? Did I...Did I push her to that level?”

“I don’t understand.” Cadence said, blinking, sitting down with the nerve-wracked Blueblood.

“I mean, did I make this happen? Somehow? That damned portrait, the tricks, the fawning over grandfather. I just...” he winced, his body quivering with anxiety “I...I know what happened, I know how. But, did I set everything into place so that...murder really was the only choice left to my mother?”

There was a pause. Cadence gave Blueblood a look, sighed and answered.

“No, you didn’t...because murder wasn’t the only choice. It never is.”

She cleared her throat.

“The Princess and the Royal Council wish to inform you, however, that by your right as prince, you shall be allowed to visit your mother whenever you wish and freely communicate by letter. That we can guarantee.”

Blueblood stared sullenly at her a while and turned away again. He spoke flatly with a slight air of authority.

“I thank you for your kindness. If that is all...”

“It is. Thank you.” Cadence stood and left the room beside the Sergeant and Colonel, quietly and calmly.

The door closed shut.

Shining gave Cadence a look.

“Do you think that was the right thing to do?” he asked.

“I really don’t see any other option.” Cadence said anxiously “I mean...I don’t want to hurt him. Nopony deserves to see their mother taken away like that. But on the other hoof, we can’t ignore what she did or what it would lead to if he ignored it.”

“I suppose.” Shining replied with a shrug “Anyhow...I promised I’d put a good word in for Bayard to join the Royal Guard. I might as well see if it’s possible while I’m back.”

“On that note, I thought I might give poor Babbles a little present.” Cadence piped up “I was thinking a soft toy...A white cat if they have one.”

Shining gave a half-smile.

“I think she’d like that.”

“Well, speak for yourselves but this’ll probably require a buck-ton of paperwork that won’t write itself, pardon my Prench my lady.” Peregrine said gruffly “I’d best see to it. Dismissed.”

And with that, the hardy Colonel took to his wings and flew off.

Shining was set to leave with him before Cadence’s voice rooted him to the spot.

“Shiney?”

“My lady?” he turned and saluted.

“Would Twilight be needing a babysitter tonight?”

The stallion shuffled on his hooves.

“Well, I don’t know if my folks are out tonight and I’ll be back anyway. But, honestly, we’d be happy to have you over for supper in any case. I know Twilight won’t object.”

“Thanks. I...I feel like Twi’s happy smile is just the thing I need to cheer me up after all this.

“Y-yeah, I...understandable.” Shining felt a blush coming “You know...my lady...there’s something I just need to ask.”

“Go ahead?” Cadence gave him that smile of hers.

The one that made him feel just as much like an alicorn as she was.

“When you and me kind of...teamed-up in that spell to break Gwendolyn’s shield...”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I...do co-operative spells, or whatever they’re called, always feel like that?”

“They’re called Multicast Spells, Shining.” Cadence answered serenely “And, honestly, I wouldn’t know. That was the first time I cast one too.”

“Well, it’s just that...” The unicorn removed his helmet and ruffled his mane, feeling hot on the brow “I don’t think I’ve ever felt stronger or faster or...more sure of myself. During that casting, I felt like I could take on Tirek single-hoofed...”

“Heh, well how about that.” Cadence said serenely, gliding over to him with that mesmerising look on her face.

Her glittery eyes closed a moment as she leaned forward and whispered.

“Me too.”

There was a slight sound beside him that made him jump. Something between the click of a button and the pat of a raindrop.

Then Shining Armour realised that Cadence had kissed him.

With a broad smile and a blush as bright as a rose in bloom, Shining Armour accompanied Lady Mi Amore Cadenza home.

*

Blueblood looked at the crown.

It had come with the suite.

It was a modest thing but it was at least significant.

A ring of silver and gold comets, interlocked by their contrails, joined at the front by the Narcissus Daffodil, Marchion’s most sacred flower, carved out of canary-yellow tourmaline, and at the back by the criss-crossed red and blue star of the eight-pointed star, fashioned from jasper and...

Blueblood looked away from it.

Lapis. Of course it would have to be Lapis.

He wondered how it would look it he had it removed or refashioned.

‘No.’ he thought ‘Her name was Gwendolyn, is Gwendolyn. She’s my mother, I love her and I’m not ashamed of it. Why should I be?’

He looked at the crown again.

He’d seen it on every portrait of his ancestors ever since he could remember. For his third birthday, his father had even made him a foil replica to wear every birthday.

He’d dreamed of wearing the real thing ever since.

‘It will be mine’ he'd kept reminding himself every time he had to fawn and scrape for his mad grandfather ‘One day, after all this, that beautiful crown will be mine and all will know I am the Prince from all the wondrous tales.’

He sighed and finished his cocktail.

“Sir?” Conkers piped up “I believe I’ve exhausted the drinking possibilities for you. Unless you’d be partial to another...”

“No, no...It’s not quite satisfying me.” Blueblood stood up, brushing back his mane “I think the Hanoverian is where I need to be.”

"If I may inquire, will sir be visiting...Madam Gwendolyn at any point today?"

Blueblood turned to him with a look of awe.

He'd called her 'Gwendolyn'.

Perhaps only to please him. But honestly, at such a stage, he'd take it.

"Not...right now." he murmured "But soon. I just need to clear my head."

“Very good, sir.” Conkers bowed as Blueblood looked the crown over once more.

“I will be a good prince’

He put back in its glass casing and threw the purple velvet cloth over it before heading for the door, putting his forehooves into the jacket Conker’s offered him.

His blue eyes were blank, dry and sullen.

‘One day...’

Author's Notes:

Well, there we are at last.
Finally, one of the several fics I'm juggling is drawn to a close.
Reference to Game of Thrones History and Lore Poisons at the beginning
Please let me know what you think of the story as a whole. Your comments make it all worthwhile.
Thanks for reading.