An offer to die for

by Funeral Dirge

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Adventure, Sex
Length: 9535

A detective, a countess and missing people what do these have in common drama

A detective going undercover from her normal job from a mysterious organization to a place located just with-in the everfree. a land known as the crimson soverignty lead by the imfamous crimson countess. what will happen take a hoof come and watch.

Published 2014-05-01 23:30:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-01 23:30:04 UTC

An offer to die for chapter 1:The meeting

Private Iron had been to many meetings in the past but this was different, not least of course that she had been kept waiting in a barely lit room for at least an hour. Not like blind mares mind the dark much though. "How long are they planning to keep me waiting?" The green mare played with her mane out of pure boredom.

"As long as is necessary to gauge your reactions to the situation." A stern voice spoke to her from just across from the table. Iron hadn't heard any signs of entry, a heartbeat, or even breathing not her own until this Stallion spoke, which was more than enough to register as weird for the detective.

"Who are you and why have you brought me here, you best start talking fast for having kept me waiting for so long." Iron's patience is starting to wear a bit thin by this point, clear in her voice.The stallion slams his hoof on the table, the sound of a folder sliding across the table to stop near her.

"You have been brought in to perform an investigation on some missing ponies in a place not even Princess Celestia can tread. We're offering you good bits to investigate this for us. You will be going deep undercover for this assignment."

"One I'm blind, portfolio's kinda pointless there champ. Two I'm a private eye not a spy, I don't do the whole deep undercover thing." Iron says dryly, leaning against the table. The sound of a match lighting catches her ear, the smell of herbs and smoke filling the air.

"What about those special little glasses of yours? Do they not fill the gap your eyes leave?"

"How do you....You know what never mind fine I'll look at what you got." Iron slips out her glasses and puts them on her muzzle, taking a few moments to adjust to the dark room. The stallion before her was silhouetted in shadows, waiting as she flips through the portfolio. Iron quickly notices the connection, they're all high born ponies: A daughter to a famous actress, The son of The Manehattan Mayor and more. "These are high profile cases...Why has nopony done anything if these are the type of individuals going missing?" The stallion at the other end of the table leans forward, revealing his shiny white coat with splotches of black through it. His face emerging from the veil of darkness, revealing ruby eyes behind a pair of spectacles. The fact that his clothing appears to be a uniform is not lost upon Iron, though she couldn't place it's origin. His mane was trimmed and slicked back under a beret with the symbol of the royal sun upon it, the letters S.I.S. stitched into the fabric below. Not a single detail of who Iron was speaking to was lost on her, the stallion pulled from his coat a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Iron. The stallion waits until she lights it with the proffered lighter before speaking.

"As I have told you, it is a place not even the Princess can go, thus she will not allow certain parties to investigate themselves. You can be considered an outside interest helping many high profile parents wondering what has happened." A long drag of her cigarette leaves a small pile of ashes on the table.

"Where would I be going exactly? I'm not saying I accept yet, but you have caught my interest enough to hear you out. Also how many bits we talking here?"

"One hundred bits a night, for up to six months of work. If you bring us a good solid lead then your pay shall be doubled. That's if you survive the entire time. I do not promise you will come back alive and should you we will not be liable for any mental stress problems." The stallion takes a puff from his pipe as he finishes his explanation, professional to a T. Iron keeps looking throughthe files, the danger in his words not bothering her but attempting to negotiate never hurts.

"For such a risk, that's got to be worth at least 200 bits a day." The Stallion stares at her for a few moments.

"125 bits a night, no more." He taps out his pipe.

"175" Moving some of her purple hair back in place, her earlier playing having messed it up.

"75 bits a night."

"You know what 125 a night does sound a reasonable amount." Iron quickly interjects. The stallion stands, stretching his legs completely at ease.

"65 bits a night."

"100 bits I will do it for 100 bits no less!" She shouts, finishing her cigarette in record time.

He taps out the ashes in his pipe. "90 bits."

"I hate you...." she says giving him a slight snarl. The stallion chuckles.

"Then I see we have an accord. Here is the file on where you will be going and your alias."

"Yeah, yeah we have an accord you ass." Iron begins looking through the folder, grumbling to herself. Her destination is a place known as the Crimson Countess manor, the name sounding familiar but she can't quite place it. Her new name is Minty Mousse, a new maid in the manor. "I'm going under cover as a maid. Really? But why would ponies go missing at a manor? Hot Trots sounds familiar...Wait I remember. My friends brought me there on one my birthdays, we got hammered and they bought me a sta.....Oh heck no, you want me to pretend to be a maid in a place like this?!" His piercing gaze locks onto her own.

"You will be the best of maids, and as such you will boarding inside the manor. You will investigate the staff and search the premises for any information relating to the missing individuals."

"You're lucky we already agreed on an amount but I expect a... frilly outfit bonus for this." She taps her hoof hard on the table, her leg clanking against the surprisingly dense wood. Probably pretty expensive. The stallion steps back and chuckles. "All your records will arrive in the next week, read everything over. Pack a few items that won't give away your identity and get a mane cut. You look like a bag pony. This number is a single use direct line, don't waste it." He throws a card onto the table as he leaves.

"You dick weasel! I'm no freaking bag pony! Oh Iron you are so going to kick his pompous ass one these days. You're also going to stop talking out loud to yourself one these days I'm sure, I think he heard us...me." She gathers her items and begins to leave the room when a black bag is thrust over her head without warning. She smells something sweet as her vision fades, her consciousness staying long enough for her to recognize chloroform.

Private Iron wakes up in her own bed staring at the ceiling, her glasses askew on her muzzle. "You're doing it for the bits Iron, the very good bits. You can afford nice food and that coach to help stop you from speaking your every thought out loud..." Iron turns to her side looking at her beloved service dog. "Do you think this is a bad idea Holiday?" Holiday barks. "We could just go with the cheaper food for me and you." Holiday barks again, Iron taking it as less than happy. "Good food. Figures that's your priority." She pets her lovely pooch's head and scratches her ears before going to find the dossier in her apartment to brush up on any info she might need to know. This is going to be a long job.

Crimson Countess Sanguine

Unicorn Pony Mare: Age unknown, estimated to be twenty four.

The owner of the Sovereign land on which Hot Trots is located, and proprietor of the business. The second Crimson Countess, her mother being the original. Acts as a noblemare most of the time, though she is known to most patrons of Hot Trots as the one running things.

Current abilities unknown, though prior information suggests that any confrontations with her be avoided.

Current equipment is unknown, though assume she has access to what she needs. Extremely unpredictable.

Known relationships: Cookie Crumbs, Gravel, Hurricane, Dusty Tome, pretty much anypony within or around the land is likely under her hoof.

Known to be extremely charismatic and willing to use her silver tongue to get what she wants.

Investigation priority: High, avoid attracting undue attention. Threat: Unknown, assumed five stars. Has no known heirs.

"Huh, so now I know a lot about what I don't know and to be careful. Here's hoping the the rest of them are more useful."

Head Maid Cookie Crumbs

Earth Pony Mare: Age unknown, estimated to be twenty eight.

The head maid of Hot Trots and the Crimson Manor. Has acted as maid for an unknown amount of time,directly serving the Crimson Countess. Is Gravel's sister, assumed blood relation.

Reports show a distinct split personality, or perhaps standard sociopath tendencies. Either way, she is well known for being very dangerous when agitated and performing extremely difficult feats.

Appears to have Special Forces training of some sort, posing a significant threat to highly trained combatants. Likely ex-military, her current life is likely an alias. Do not let your guard down around her, she is one of the largest threats to your life.

Current abilities are unknown, though she appears to be able to perform highly difficult feats and appear from wherever she desires, likely an espionage and stealth expert. Expect anything from her.

Current known equipment includes an arsenal of knives that she appears to hide within her mane, tail, and uniform.

Known Relationships: Countess Sanguine, Gravel, Hurricane, Dusty Tome. Known to be extremely unstable and willing to use violence half the time, cheerful and bubbly the other half of the time.

Investigation priority: High, do not get seen. Threat: Cookie, one star. Crumbs, five stars.

"Well. That doesn't sound very good. Their very own murderer dolled up as a maid. And I'm going to be working under her. Joy."

Escort and Bouncer Gravel

Earth Pony Stallion: Age Unknown, estimated to be twenty eight.

Former bouncer and current entertainer, he continues his duties as muscle when it's needed. Has worked at Hot Trots for an indeterminable amount of time. Shown to have a chivalrous side, seeming to respect the mares he charms. A possible asset, though shares the same near mindless loyalty to the Countess as most other workers. Is Cookie Crumbs' brother, could be used to placate her in case she is agitated.

Current abilities are unknown for certain, though he has shown proficiency in many hoof-to-hoof combat situations and knows how to use his size. Also likely ex-military, possibly a frontline soldier.

Current equipment is unknown, though likely limited to his own hooves.

Known Relationships: Countess Sanguine, Cookie Crumbs, Hurricane, Dusty Tome, many married mares. Likely the most reasonable pony in the establishment, and mares will be more able to manipulate him. Known for being stoic, though unwilling to use violence unless it is explicitly called for.

Investigation priority: Medium, could be useful. Threat: Three stars, if cover is blown.

"Seems familiar... Well, at least he sounds like a decent stallion. Strangely comforting to know I won't be completely surrounded by psychopaths."

Escort Hurricane

Pegasus Pony Stallion: Twenty Six.

Works as an escort, though is approximately Gravel's equal in sheer body size. Has worked at Hot Trots for seven years. Is one of the more passionate stallions on call, though he was trained as an actor at one point.

Current abilities are unknown, though a silver tongue and greater than average physical strength should be expected.

Current equipment is likely limited to his own two hooves and wings.

Known Relationships: Countess Sanguine, Cookie Crumbs, Gravel, Dusty Tome, and most of the patrons.

Is a very enthusiastic pony, diving head first into the situation at hoof. Often over exerts himself because of this. Prior to moving into Hot Trots, he lived in multiple places across Equestria, most notably Hoofington. There he was nominated for a Shakeponian award, but an undisclosed injury ended his career. Family is unknown. Should be relatively easy to manipulate by agents.

Investigation Priority: Medium, an asset. Threat: Two stars, unlikely to be a danger compared to the other workers.

"Again, seems familiar. Though this one seems more entertainer than prostitute. Seems normal enough, bet he's crazy too."

Barkeep High Roller

Pegasus Pony Stallion: Unknown age, estimate at forty.

Evening and night bartender along with functioning as the casino floorstallion. Has worked at Hot Trots for an undetermined amount of time. Not much is known about this stallion beyond his job.

Abilities, equipment, and relevant relationships are unknown. Personality appears to be the standard bartender type, willing to listen to ponies talk and fix their drinks. Prior life to Hot Trots is unknown.

Investigative priority: Unknown. Threat: Unknown. Be wary.

"Well that's not fun looking. Less intel on him than the Countess. He's probably hiding something big."

Author and Explorer Dusty Tome

Unicorn Pony Mare: Eighteen.

Frequent patron, and occasionally seen helping the staff with maid work. Has been frequenting Hot Trots and the Countess' land for approximately a year now. A small time author who has created a name for herself among historical circles. Has published logbooks primarily, though also has her name on everything from foals' books to a romance novel. Is currently on the run from Equestrian forces for several offenses, leaving a brother and parents in Manehattan to run their courier company First Feather. Possesses an inquisitive nature and surprising cunning, the stereotypical adventurer.

Current ability involves a much greater than average aptitude with Telekinesis, basic teleportation, a few shield spells, and not much else. Likely to know a hooful of utility spells, variety is not the threat here.

Current equipment is most likely standard adventurer's gear, expect minor enchanted items to be common.

Appears to have a stronger than usual connection with the Countess, though other noteworthy relationships include Cookie Crumble, Gravel, and Hurricane.

You are not authorized for further information.

Investigative priority: You are not authorized to investigate this mare, limit contact where possible. Threat: Three stars, four if cornered. You are not authorized to engage this mare.

"The buck do you mean not authorized? What did she do, raid Princess Celestia's lost sock drawer? Why bother giving me the file then?"

The Crimson Countess' Sovereignty.

Located off the road between Ponyville and Manehattan, in a large clearing of the Everfree Forest near the mountain. Approximately two hundred and sixty miles from Canterlot. Climate: Northern Everfree. Despite being surrounded by Equestrian land, and once being Equestrian, this land was given to the original Crimson Countess twenty one years ago. Contains a small town of about one hundred residents of multiple races and species. Much of their income originates from travelers and visitors. Notable residents involve most ponies involved with the burlesque club Hot Trots or the Crimson Manor. Is under the rule of the current Crimson Countess, making her word law. A list of basic laws have been provided for review. Some politically and publicly famous ponies are seen relatively often in town. Has no border control, though small size confers a significant advantage should it be enforced. No passport required. Accepts most types of currency. No current wars, no current allies. Is considered neutral in case of war. Note, anyone living there is legally her servant as long as they are on her land, and thus obligated to do as she orders. Her continued positive publicity reveals her as an at least competent ruler.

"A whole town then. Plenty of political information, but would it have been so hard to get a map?"

Crimson Manor.

Located at the south western corner of the Countess' land, overlooks most of her land. Where the Crimson Countess and her personal servants live. Used to greet diplomats and VIPs, along with being her home, at least partially. Events and celebrations tend to be hosted in the spacious front garden. Most of the hill the manor resides on is reserved for it, though the manor itself is more similar to a garrison than standard manor. Stone structure, three stories, and multiple wings. Likely fortified against magical and mundane dangers. Likely has underground sectors alongside the above ground wings. Only the Countess and those she personally invites are allowed to enter, along with her inner circle and serving staff.

"Always wanted an impenetrable fortress for a coffin. Keeps out the rats and necromancers."

Hot Trots.

Located at the North Eastern corner of the Countess' Land. Casino, burlesque parlor, bar, escort service, and inn. Those working there claim to have whatever your sins desire and more, making it the main attraction of the town for many visitors. A two story, moderately large building. Clearly bigger on the inside, agents with spacial sensitivities should avoid the building entirely. All of the employees live in house, either in Hot Trots itself or the town at large. Agents will have to enter this building at least once, and likely be inside it multiple times. There is no information on possible threats inside or outside, expect to be under constant observation. While partaking of the bar is unrecommended, booze has been shown to relief mental stress and increase the longevity of undercover agents.

"So you send me in there and tell me not to get drunk, but it'll help deal with the scars. Heck, I know more about this place than they do."

First Feather.

Location: Manehattan, Northshire Trotway, Sixteenth floor. Courier and publishing business. A business originally started as two rival companies that merged when the owners and sole workers married. Not noteworthy, outside of being the former home and place of business of Dusty Tome. Has recently been working as the Crimson Countess' sole courier business, investigations are underway. Should not be related, though could come into play in certain circumstances.

"That's it? They bother to mention a courier company in another city, but don't even know how big Hot Trots is. Why am I starting to regret this choice more and more Holiday?"

Iron sets down the dossiers, starting to think this job might be a bit more then she thought it would be. She sifts through the pictures again, looking over to make sure Holiday isn't paying attention as she slips the pictures of Hurricane and Gravel into a private folder hidden in her drawer. The folder has a few pictures of her friends Merlin and Flame, though it's mostly dominated by pictures of Sherlock that she has spliced herself into as if she was there as his assistant. After she hides her photos again with a brief blush she heads to speak to her landlord. "Hello Mrs.lantern. I came to talk to you about the next few months of rent? Hello, Mrs.Lantern..."

"Ms.Iron! Come in, come in. Yes we got your next six months of rent, lovely that your not just paying on time for once. What can i help you with Deary?" The elder mare plays with the large pile of bits laying spread across the table in her office.

Iron blinks for a moment, her curiosity piqued. "Six months in advance... Who payed my rent for me?"

"A young lad arrived about an hour ago, said you were going on a vacation, and wanted to have the room held. He gave me this lovely stack of bits." Mrs.Lantern snuggles her money.

Iron decides that leaving her landlord in a state of bliss is a good idea and eventually makes her way back to her room. "Alright Holiday lets get your leash, we're going for a little walk." Iron removes her magical glasses and puts them in her saddle bag as Holiday brings the leash already attached. "Some days I don't think you even need me Holiday." Iron sits, rubbing Holiday's side until he rolls onto his back and Iron gives him some good long belly scratchies before they depart to see Iron's cousin.

The walk was a tad long but Iron enjoyed spending time just walking with Holiday. Holiday knew exactly where they were going, looking forward to the trip. Eventually their walk brings them to a small monastery, the creaking of the door opening at her arrival still sends down a shiver down Iron's spine. "Hey, is Crypty around?" A nun trots over to Iron.

"Do you mean Father Cryptic Knowledge young mare?"

"Yeah that's the one, he around? Tell him Private Iron has come to speak with him." Iron lets herself in, trotting right past the nun.

The nun attempts to stop her to no avail before sighing. "I will go see if the Father is available." The nun trots off for about 10 minutes before returning with the priest. Holiday barks impatiently, demanding to be petted.

"Hello Dear Iron. I see you have refrained from possession or hospitalization recently. What can I do for you?" The Stallion sits before her calmly.

Iron moves toward him. "Hey Crypty...I'm going away on business for a few months. I was hoping you would be able to watch Holiday for me."

"My name is Cryptic Knowledge, use it properly or not at all." He holds out a hoof, Holiday tugging at his leash. Iron smiles to herself as she lets him go, listening to the frantic scrabbling on the stone below and barking as Cryptic Knowledge pets her little Holiday. "I would be more then happy to take a little Holiday." He chuckles to himself at the bad joke.

Iron sighs softly. "You're still a stick in the mud you know that? And that was just a horrible joke." Iron stands back up and starts toward the door. "Just take good care of him."

"What are you doing that will keep you so far away for such a length of time that you can't bring Holiday with you?" Cryptic chimes in before Iron can leave.

Iron's hoof falls onto the door, "I can't say..."

"Have you fallen into a bad situation Cousin?" A small tone of worry creeps into his voice.

"Nothing i can't handle. Thanks though Crypty." Iron snickers to try and break the tension before leaving. Cryptic Knowledge takes Holiday back to his room, worry for Iron now firmly distracting him.

Three days have past since she dropped off Holiday with Cryptic Knowledge, having taken a train to just outside the countess's lands and forced to trot the rest of the way to the Crimson Manor. She has been wearing her glasses the past few days to get used constantly wearing them, a headache having nested in her forehead as an effective but futile reminder as to why she usually doesn't. Her other uncomfortable change she's living with being her legs, no longer a comfortable iron or copper, but a lightweight and flimsy feeling plastic.Still, she couldn't help but be impressed by Tick-Tock's work, and she felt at least a bit thankful for her employers for funding them. Eventually Iron, now under the guise of Minty Mousse, approaches the front door to the Crimson Countess Manor, her few bags piled onto a small wagon pulled behind her. The door opens with a strange swooshing sound. On the other side stands a mare who Iron recognizes as Cookie Crumbs waiting for her. "Welcome To the Crimson Manor, let's go get you settled in!" Iron has never felt such danger woven into a warm happy welcome before. Iron pauses for but a moment before following Cookie inside, slightly put off by how friendly she was acting. The same swoosh is heard behind her, the door closing itself and filling Iron with a sense of her fate being sealed once more.

An Offer to Die for chapter 2:Maid of Iron

---3 days into the investigation---

Minty Mousse, after three days of learning the ropes of maidhood, was finally allowed to start working on her own within the manor of the Crimson Countess. Underneath the alias she was Private Iron, clumsy private eye extraordinaire! Which showed through pretty clearly when she managed to trip over her own four hooves and knock over a rather lovely vase that shattered with an echoing crash. “Oh buck me with a rusty carving knife, really? Come on Minty, just get i-EEEP!” She was interrupted by an equally echoing crack as a riding crop caught her across the flank.

“Minty, Minty, Minty. Did you think I wouldn’t hear such a loud crash? The plates on your first day, the Mistress’ bust yesterday, and now a vase? You do know everything broken is taken out of you pay?” A petite Earth Pony mare flanks Minty, the Head Maid Cookie Crumbs. She shook her head, brushing a few of her caramel curls, which darkened the further down you looked, out of her face with a hoof. A feather duster cutie mark, often hidden under her black and red trimmed maid uniform, stood out against her chocolate brown coat. Her gentle smile and soft emerald eyes hide a sadistic intent, the crop in her mouth not hiding anything, catching Minty’s flank in almost the exact same spot twice more. “Hurry now and clean up this mess, get a new vase from the back and make sure to catch up on all your work. You’re falling behind Deary… Get moving before Mister Slappy decides to have another go at your sweet flank.” The Tyrant Maid of Evil trotted away happily, another loud, significantly more fleshy sounding smack and an “EEP!” resounds from around the corner after she’s gone.

Minty slowly picked herself up, rubbing her sore flank. The TME had left a trio of indentions in the soft plastic plates that covered her artificial legs through her uniform, which stung a surprising amount. Not for the first time did she find herself wishing that she still had her normal, much heavier and more durable metal legs instead of these easily scarred plastic. “She’s a demon. How does somepony like that end up as Head Maid?” She grumbled to herself as she cleaned up the broken shards littering the hallway, leaving to find a replacement once she’s done. At least, that’s what she should be doing. Instead she started her own work, a detective stalking unfamiliar halls. She peeks into each room she passes, committing to memory those doors that are locked. “Is this place a never ending stream of rooms filled with paintings?” Minty’s new plastic legs, despite being less durable and a lot more painful to get hit, were a lot lighter than her old metal legs despite her not being quite used to them yet. It made sneaking much easier, as her hoofsteps were an easily concealable ‘tack tack’ instead of her old ‘thunk thunk’, much easier for the thick carpeting to hide. She managed to make it through the entire west wing before she was caught by a fellow maid, forcing her to get back to work.

---One month into the investigation---

Minty found it strange, as she helped to fix lunch for the day, that despite being here for about a month now she still hadn’t seen the mistress of the manor. She had personally cleaned every unlocked room in the home, thanks to the Tyrant Maid Overlord, including the Countess’ own room. She had also ‘received’ two awards from said evil mare, which were displayed in full view on the wall of the kitchen. Most Consistent Breaking of Manor Items and Most Whips from Mr. Slappy, a picture of Mr. Slappy the riding crop next to Minty’s own. She was not amused by this, but the unicorn maid next to her, String Pea, helped distract her from the constant sense of dread. For the moment at least.

“Did you hear that Sweet Paradise will be visiting later today? She’s got a lunch date with the Countess!” Her voice was surprisingly sweet for somepony who was three months Minty’s elder here. She didn’t look away from her work as she gossiped, happily providing a contrast to Minty’s barely restrained frayed nerves. Minty’s hoof shook slightly as she sliced carrots for the salad, looking away and cringing as she missed. She’d need another new plate for her other forehoof, a brand new rent in the plastic joining the three from before. She gritted her teeth, used to the pain by now but really wishing she had some comforting metal right now. The headache from her glasses didn’t help her nerves much either.

“T-The model and singer? So t-that means… the Countess will be meeting her? Who will be handling f-food and arrangements?” For the first time in a few days she was able to calm down a bit, slipping into the comfortable role of investigator that she was already missing dearly.

“Oh, yes. Madam Cookie and a few other maids will be serving them today, I hope I’m chosen. I’ll admit that I am a big fan of her music, she’s such a romantic.” She started humming a slow tune to herself as she finished chopping up a pile of onions. Minty realized that his would probably be her best chance to see the great and feared Crimson Countess in person… as much as the prospect scared her. She tapped aside the front plate on her uncut forehoof, removing a small vial of clear liquid with her teeth. Under the cover of scooping the now sliced carrots into the salad, she carefully empties the vial into String Pea’s glass of water before hiding it within her hoof once more. The hidden compartments were one of the few good parts of her new legs. It took nearly ten minutes for the drug to take effect, String Pea beginning to yawn as Minty tosses the nearly complete salad.

“Oh Sweetie, you don’t look so good. L-Let me help you to your room.” Minty sets the finished salad on it’s cart, her legs creaking ominously as she lifts String Pea on her back. It took her a few minutes to find String Pea’s room, tucking the nearly asleep mare into her bed.

“Thank you Minty…” She was asleep before the door closed. She quickly made her way to her own room, digging a fresh plastic plate out of the stash hidden in her suitcase. She popped off the sliced up one, shuddering at the moment of feeling nothing there before the new one slotted into place. A relieved sigh slips out, glad that the ache is gone, before she remembers her plan. She removes her glasses with shaky hooves, embracing the returned darkness as she replaced the false bottom to her suitcase and slid it under the bed. It took her a few minutes to steady herself before she felt ready to confront the Tyrant Maid Overlord. She waited until she was outside the Tyrant’s office before putting her glasses back on, her legs shaking as she pushed open the door.

“Bi-Mi-mi-Miss Cookie, I-I have some bad n-news. String Pea c-came down with a c-c-col-” She gets that far before a knife sinks into the door an inch from her head. She falls back in surprise, landing on her already sore rear. “Ow…”

“Damnit, this is important. Who am I going to get to serve the blasted tea?” The very disgruntled looking mare sat at her desk, flipping through the roster.

“I-I-I could serve the t-tea if you like.” Minty shuffles away from the knife a bit, smiling nervously and trying to compose herself. It’s pretty clear that the Tyrant Maid Overlord scares the living daylights out of her. Said chocolate mare sighed, getting up from behind her desk and walking past Minty. She removes a wooden spoon from somewhere in her uniform and shoves it into Minty’s mouth, catching the gap in her teeth and dragging her along. It wasn’t the most pleasant way to be lead around, if that wasn’t obvious.

“Dear Minty, if I wanted tea spilt on our guest I would send you, but I need a competent maid for this. I am one mare down though… You may toss the salad for our guest, she hates her salad pre-tossed and demands it be done in front of her.” A brief shot of exasperation breaks through the pain, though thankfully she probably has time to fix things. “Our guest will arrive in thirty minutes. Make sure everything is prepared, and get that spoon out of your teeth.” Minty is thrust through the doorway, the door slamming closed on her. Her eye twitches as she cringes, limping forward a few steps and biting her lip to keep from shouting.

“I-I now know why the others wear underwear and hate the… doorknobs… Owww…” It takes a bit for her to recover from the doorknob plot twist, she spits out the spoon and stumbles back to the kitchen. Once there she regretfully throws out the pre-made salad, rushing to prepare the new ingredients in their own separate bowls. She even thinks ahead enough to prepare a few bowls of various dressings. As she finishes she hears a ruckus from the front of the manor as the celebrity arrives, maids and guards alike probably fawning over a chance to meet such a famous pony. Minty’s nerves are more frayed over her meeting with the Countess than Sweet Paradise. She knew that officially her alias served the Countess, but all of her orders thus far had come from the Demonic Head Witch Cookie. “As m-much as she looks innocent, she’s worse than…” She shudders, letting the thought drop and instead focusing on the throbbing pain in her plot.

Soon enough though the order came for salad. Minty pushed the cart, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself down. What do you expect from someone often known as the Blood Countess? The one at the center of a conspiracy involving missing young stallions and mares, who would hire and use as her right hoof the unforgiving monster Cookie?! Minty’s imagination provides a tall mare looming over everything with fire in her eyes, a serpentine tongue protruding from between jagged teeth as she snarls. She should probably stop listening to Midnight Master Scare Time, the radio she had gotten ahold of already giving her some less than restful night and VERY vivid mental images.

The first thing she sees when she enters the dining room stops her cold, her jaw almost going slack at the stunning mare a few other maids were attempting to steal glances at. Her coat was light blue for the most part, shifting into a brilliant lime green down her legs. Her mane was long and well kept, pearls strung through the brilliant blue that flowed out into a rainbow of hues, her tail matching in both assortment of colors and care. A pair of earrings hung from each ear, the exact color impossible to place as it changed depending on how you looked at them. Her eyes were the same, though they held a mischievous glint. At first she could be mistaken for a pegasus, though her wings were covered with a layer of tiny green scales and webbed like a Seapony’s. Her body was wrapped with a tight purple dress, each button along the side a different type of gemstone, making another rainbow. Peacock feathers radiated from the back of her dress, just behind her wings and covering her rear, her tail likely held by a band to still poke out between all the feathers. Minty couldn’t mistaken this mare as anypony, the slight drool she wiped off of her chin confirming her as Sweet Paradise.

It took a moment for Minty to compose herself, remembering why she had done this in the first place as she pushes the cart forward to get a good look at the Countess herself. The infamous Blood Countess wasn’t exactly what she had expected, certainly larger than your average mare but thin framed like a model herself. Her mane and tail were blood red, a horn poking out from under her held back mane, sharpened to a fine point. It was pulled back into a bun, a string of pearls tying it back and a little hat on her head. Contrasting her mane was her coat, the darkest shade of black Minty couldn’t even begin to describe, though it made think of a… sickeningly dark memory. She shudders, focusing on the Countess again, realizing a moment too late that the Countess is watching her with piercing green eyes. She wore a classical styled dress in various shades of brown, the stitching matching her mane and hinting at a personal request. It wasn’t any of this, or the pearl earrings, that threw Minty off. No, that was the sweet smile she got from the Countess. Her voice, when she spoke, was almost like velvet, enough to make most ponies start to get weak in the knees.

“Thank you for bringing the salad. Minty Mousse, correct? A pleasure to finally meet you.” Minty was struck dumb for a moment, her expectations completely subverted, before starting in on fixing their salads. Tea had already been served alongside small plates of desserts, which Minty found a bit odd as lunch hadn’t been served yet.

“So, you’re going to hold the art show here yourself Sanguine?” Sweet Paradise spoke next, her voice as smooth as Minty expected. Thankfully the two mares chose to ignore her from that point on.

“Oh, it will be here, but you will be the one hosting it.” The Countess’ sweet smile turned into a devious smirk.

“Not even a ‘will you please do this for me’ huh?”

“Oh, we both know you would do it if I ask Mi’Sweet. Don’t give me those pouty cheeks, you know it’s true.” She lifts a cup of tea to her lips in a sheath of brilliant crimson magic. The model flicks her mane back, a rueful smile on her face.

“Well I can never tell you no, can I?”

“Some of the art will be out of my personal collection, the rest supplied by one of my more talented mares, Midnight.” Sanguine placed her cup back onto it’s saucer, accepting the salad placed before her with a gentle smile toward Minty.

“Oooooo~ A chance to get a painting out of your personal stash? I will totally pass, you’ve got way too macabre a taste for me Dolly. Though what type of work does the little sweetie pie Midnight create?” Her curiosity was evident on her face, strong enough to make her ignore Minty placing a bowl of salad and a trio of dressings before her.

“Her anatomy work is simply sublime, paintings of her model in laid bare in the most delicious fashions.” Her grin made Minty blush almost as much as Sweet Paradise.

“Well doesn’t that sound like a lot of fun?”

“Infact, she was hoping to convince you to allow her to grace her canvas with your lovely frame.” The more colorful mare was taken aback, her response rather matter of fact.

“Oh no, no. What happens at the club is one thing, but to be exposed like that? No thank you babe.” She seemed a bit off balance, metaphorically speaking.

“Well, perhaps you would like to know that 40% of the proceeds are being donated to orphanages and widow homes.” Sanguine’s composure stayed incredibly relaxed as another maid, one Cherry Apple Minty notes, emerges to refill her teacup.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it. No fair playing that card on me Sanguine, but it’s very much like you to keep the 60% for yourself.” Her blush deepened, though she finally noticed the salad.

“Well we both know I do love stuff for myself. How about we go and get you introduced to Midnight? The auction is in two weeks, we wouldn’t want her latest masterpiece to be late.” Sanguine sets her empty salad bowl aside, clopping her hooves together as Sweet sadly places her own fork down. “Minty, have this cleaned up for us and have somepony send the salad down to the club.” She rises first, Sweet following and the other maids either taking the salad away or leaving themselves.

Minty thought over what she had just heard as she cleaned the room on her own. There was some sincerity, almost too much, in the Countess’ words… but something about how she dominated the conversation struck her as wrong. She had expected some influence over the model, but to have so much control over somepony who sounded like she was just a customer at Hot Trots… It didn’t add up with the dossier she had received, which meant there was a much darker undertone with the sugary Countess she had just listened to. It didn’t provide any evidence for the investigation at large, but it certainly started to paint a picture of the type of pony she was working for.

Minty waited until the two had left the manor before slipping into the nearby study. The Countess had a bizarre taste in literature, a foal’s book titled The Hooflings was partially covering Cannibal Nations of the World. Her collection of books grows even weirder as Minty starts finding books dating back to the Pre-Classical era, a few even bearing Starswirl the Bearded’s mark.

‘These aren’t in alphabetical order or by genre… How does she keep from losing one?’ She wasn’t able to think this particular train of thought through, as a very familiar mare’s voice sent a chill down her spine. She slipped back out of the study, throwing the last of the sliverware onto a cart, and pushed it through the door just as the Demonic Head Witch entered. Minty got a brief smile from her before she turned the corner and was gone.

---3 days before the art show---

Over the next two weeks the club’s patrons grew to include celebrities and bigwigs from all over Equestria, the type of ponies everypony should know if they payed attention. Nearly a hundred paintings and pieces of art were lined up to be sold, the event set to last most of the day. Some of the artwork is being provided from the Countess’ private collection, though most of it belongs to a few well known artists and the Countess’ personal prodigy: young up and comer Midnight Mystery. And of course, there was much preparation to be done. That fell upon the stalwart maids of the Crimson Manor, and while one specific one was starting to despise her past self for accepting this job, she did relish the chance to investigate deeper.

Minty had, over the past few weeks, been worked to the bone and wire by the Supreme Devil Overmaid. It showed pretty clearly as well, her natural personality shining through easier by this point: ill tempered and incredibly sarcastic. Well, not when arou-

“Minty!” A familiar crack split the silence, breaking Minty from her most recent evaluation of her life choices. Mr. Slappy once again drew a high pitched “EEP” out of her, and even managed to her to flee halfway down the hallway before she heard the Supreme Devil Overmaid’s infuriating sing-song voice. “Run along to the fifth display room Minty, or Mr. Slappy will get to play some more.” The SDO trotted off humming a song, still eerily silent as always, leaving Minty rubbing her sore flank and hiding behind a pedestal. That was one of the things that still terrified her, and her seeming omnipresence hastened Minty’s steps through the manor. The display rooms were a hooful of the rooms that she hadn’t been entrusted a key to yet, one of which now rested in a small pocket of her uniform. Her mood was lightened a bit from it’s rather infuriated depths at the prospect of continuing her investigation. She slipped on her glasses, unlocking the door she had stopped at and pushing it open. She immediately wished she hadn’t, dropping the featherduster she had just taken in her mouth.

The room was drenched in a mix of red and black, creating the feeling that the room was soaked in a river of blood. The floor was the worst, as Minty stepped inside she sank slightly into the carpet, drawing out a shudder and memories of her nightmares. It only made the ‘art’ within even worse, just inside stood a table that looked gut wrenchingly like a vivisected stallion bent backwards, his organs ripped out and flattened to make a table-like surface. A cautious prod revealed it to be solid, though Minty can’t quite tell if it’s from embalming aided rigor mortis or if it was made of some stone. Just above hung a pony skull decorated with feathers and what looked like blood runes, looking like a mask with candles placed in the eye sockets. She stumbles back, feeling sick to her core with the taste of bile and death in her mouth. Something solid stops her, making her realise her mistake as she looks back directly into a pair of cut sapphire eyes behind a bird shaped mask. She squeaks, stepping away from the statue, she hoped, of a masked and cloaked stallion with a pair of sickles hung around it’s neck. Everything about this place made her more nauseous, even the paintings were… less than pleasant. One quartet Minty actually recognized, even more surprising since the source was Cryptic Knowledge.

“The Cleansing of Gahoof… What the hell are these doing here?” Her confusion broke through the absolute terror she was feeling, for the moment at least. “What Crypty would give to see these… They’re just like the records too, Queen Faust’s declaration of corruption in the three cities.” Indeed, the depiction of a red maned alicorn flanked by a stylized sun, moon, and crown overlooking a trio of cities in the first one, labeled Reckoning. In the next, titled Fury a orange eyed alicorn has replaced the previous one, her mane made of flame and her coat orange-white. She glared down at the first city, engulfed in flames as it was, a quartet of ponies watching in horror from a cliff in the foreground. Next, Regret, showed a pitch black alicorn with a mane of pure white sneering from on high as a town below crumbled in on itself, two haggard and terrified seeming ponies in the foreground. The last, Judgement, broke the mold. A cracked crown hung in the background, overlooking a city drenched in blood; a procession of what Minty assumed to be ponies lead into town, some ponies leaving toward the foreground and many more piled aside the city by a trio of brown specks.

Beside the quartet of paintings her cousin would probably kill for hung a very… strange painting, titled All For Naught. A massive battle raged on, the three tribes of ponies united with the griffins against an army of ponies clad in terrifying armor and what Minty assumed were hippogriffs. Watching over the bloodshed from the right stood the Royal Sisters, Princesses Celestia and Luna, alongside a regal black maned gray unicorn… and an all too familiar serpentine monstrosity thrown together from an assortment of creatures. Facing them were a quartet of ponies, each one at least as large as Princess Luna. The first, a unicorn whose snow white coat was mostly hidden under heavy body armor, held over a dozen spears by his sides. The second, a stallion the color of a fresh burn whose size rivaled Princess Celestia herself, was wrapped in chains that burned with a sickly yellow flame. The third was a starved looking black mare adorned in several bracelets and a headdress, holding between her teeth a scale weighed with wheat and barley, looking for all Minty could tell like a priestess. Behind the trio stood a figure hiding it’s pale yellow-green muzzle under a thick cloak, the scythe strapped to it’s back and bone laiden wings granting it a rather distinctive appearance. Minty gets the feeling that it’s eyes are following her as she very quickly, and with looking as little as possible, cleans the room and bolts out the door. She tears her glasses off, falling against the closed and locked door hugging herself, her heart pounding.

“N-Never going in there again.”

Once she had recovered, she worked pretty quickly, if only to distract herself from the Room of Horror. She still isn’t safe from art quite yet though, as those paintings and sculptures that don’t make her glad she has a detective’s stomach have a tendency to make her blush. From a few paintings of ponies laid bare on full display to a surprisingly detailed sculpture of a mare and three stallions in full swing, it wouldn’t be hard to mistaken Minty’s natural color as bright red instead of her usual green. “This is just wonderful… Nothing I would rather be doing with that… place in my head than cataloguing this smut!” Yeah, she was not very amused, if her very strained tone is anything to go off of.

“Horrors of the deep flooding your southern seas, my dear Minty?” A velvety voice whispered into Minty’s ear, the Countess stepping back with a devilish grin to watch Minty nearly jump out of her legs. Once Minty’s heart stops trying to escape out of her throat she realizes just who it is that snuck up on her and gives a low, if shaky bow.

“I-I-I apologize C-Countess, I’m… not…” She trails off, that blush coming back in full force. The Countess’ answer is a grin that makes things just that much worse for poor Minty, slowly straying closer with her signature seductive strut. Her pearl embellished cereulian dress not helping matters.

“No need to be bashful, you aren't the first mare whose floodwalls I've broken, Minty dear." Minty discovers that yes, she can blush even harder.

“C-Countess! I-I-I-” The Countess struts past Minty, her tail slipping over the poor maid’s flanks. Minty’s blush was starting to go to her head, and she was finding it a bit difficult to keep her thoughts straight by this point.

“You’d ruin most other jobs, but I have one for a mare whose attention to detail goes beyond what her clouded gray eyes suggest. Of course, it would mean you would have to leave your duty here, though my task is so much more important… if you wish.” She flashes Minty one final smirk before turning away, continuing down the hallway. Minty shakes her head, clapping a hoof against her skull to clear it. A chance to meet with the Countess one-on-one was almost enough to ignore the instincts telling her to start running… It took one last look at the foursome statue to solve that dilemma, sending her racing down the hallway to catch up with the Countess. The Countess doesn’t say a word, continuing her casual strut just slightly ahead of Minty until they reach her chambers. A gesture reminds Minty to open the door for her Mistress, and once the duo are inside it slams closed, a click signalling the locks catching. “Thank you for joining me Minty dear, I haven’t had the time to give you your evaluation yet. Every maid needs a full evaluation, which I prefer to give myself.” She approaches with the trapped maid, who takes an instinctive step back.

“I-I don’t understand... Countess?” She displays her stunning coordination by tripping over her own hindleg, falling back against the door. She rubs her head, starting to rise, when a black hood slams against the wood beside her head. The Countess’ face is uncomfortably close, Minty can feel her breath on her coat.

“I want to see how close to your name you taste M’dear, and you must fulfill the desires of your Countess.” Her other forehoof raises to stroke Minty’s cheek, who recoils against the hoof balancing her against the door. “Mmm… You don’t need these, I want to see your eyes in their natural beauty…” She removes Minty’s glasses, tossing them to the side onto a dresser. One of many unsettling discoveries she would continue making was that she could still see through the lenses if they were forcibly removed. Her head was still spinning when she felt herself being lifted and shoved onto the bed, the unmistakable feeling of hooves pinning her legs down. She blinked, her vision clearing for a moment to reveal a disorientating scene; the Countess standing on each of her legs while she untied the bows on uniform.

“G-get off of me!” She watches herself struggle futilely, until a loud crack splits the air and her hindleg just… stops. She tries moving it, but she couldn’t even feel it anymore. “M-My leg?” The Countess lifts her own hindleg, tapping the trapped maid’s limb with her hoof.

“Oh dear, broken already? And before we’ve even begun, naughty Minty.” She leans down, her muzzle brushing against Minty’s own as she whispers into her prey’s ear. “Please struggle more, it’s amusing. Like you believe you have a choice in the matter.” Minty’s glasses, as she wasn’t able to close her eyes like normal, made sure she got a third pony view of the nightlong show.

---The next morning---

Minty came to slowly, more forced to by her aching body than anything else. The massive headache from her glasses notwithstanding, she caught a view of herself from said spectacles as she picked herself up off the floor. Well, she tried. Something her pain and sleep addled mind hadn’t noticed was that her unbroken hindleg was currently missing, hung carefully on the headboard. Once she lifted herself up on her forelegs alone, she got a decent look at herself: covered in thin cuts, cigar burns beside candle wax, her ear stuck to the side of her head, a spoon stuck in the gap between her teeth, rope burns on her forelegs, a pink bowtie around her left foreleg, her uniform nowhere in sight, her headdress on her head covered in whipped cream, and in general looking just as bad as she felt. If she had to guess she had more whipped cream on at least one of her hooves, and she could see it covering her muzzle. There was one cut that stung significantly more than the others, and actually was still bleeding slightly: the one spreading from just under her right eye to the left end of her mouth. Her glasses were replaced on her head, glad to be rid of the disorientation but realizing that she would need to see to find everything. She tastes a mixture of what she could only describe as pain and strawberries for some reason, christening the flavor painberries as she half crawls half drags herself over to where her wayward leg was. Somewhere through the pain she has the sense to question where the Countess had gotten off to, finding her laying on the wrecked bed watching her.

“Minty dear, I expect these sheets to be changed, your uniform washed, and you to finish the little task you left yesterday before lunch. Red Sauce Soup Three will do nicely, now clean yourself up… Also, your performance was mediocre at best. Your state barely earns you a one for presentability, your legs bought you a four for originality, your delectable struggling gives a three despite otherwise poor performance, and two for entertainment… I expect you to have improved considerably by next time.” The Countess chuckles to herself, picking herself out of bed and slipping her dress on, walking out looking just as fresh as she had the evening before. Minty just stares after her, eventually the added discomfort from not having two hindlegs snaps her out of it. She grabs the leg off the headboard, collapsing on the bed and fitting the leg back on, after cleaning a bit of jelly out of the port with the sheets. There she decides to lie for a bit, attempting to recover.

“I should get paid more for this… Had worse, maybe.” Her throat is raw, her voice a bit scratchy. ‘Haven’t had a better paying one.’ “Shut up me, nopony asked you. And now I’m talking to myself, guess I did go crazy.” To help the insanity along, she reaches over toward the ashtray on the bedside table and takes one of the six partially burned cigars, spitting the spoon out and replacing it with the cigar. Some fumbling later she had the Countess’ lighter, and was enjoying the familiar taste of her own stoc-

“... So that’s what the maid brought in.” She covers her face with a hoof, starting to laugh at the absurdity of it all, finally cracking under the weight of the last few months. She removes the cheap cigar from her mouth, laughing harder despite the aches. She finally manages to stop herself after the first few tears roll down her face. “I hate this job.” Private Iron shoves the cigar back in her mouth, blowing a ring of smoke after a moment.

---The day of the art show has arrived---