Effigy of Anarchy

“ARTIFACTS OF AGES: Come and see what Equestria’s history has to offer!”

So went the tag line of a faded poster, long since ripped and torn, adorning the brick wall of the building two blocks down from the Trottingham International Hotel. Wind and weather had taken their toll on the poor thing, decaying it to the point of near illegibility, yet it clung with tenacity nonetheless. Nopony could say just how long it had been on that wall, as the only things which remained as its scraps and pieces flapped in the wind was its title and a photo of an ancient knife.

Flitter looked over her shoulder as she passed, interested very slightly in the display. Such things had no particular appeal to her, she was more interested in urban decay. Lights that had burnt out, graffiti from a street artist, collapsed and abandoned buildings, these brought her senses alive.

That was why she was here, walking down this freezing street in the middle of winter. Her new friend had promised to show her something really special. Why not go with him? Normally she’d say no, but this was a vacation in historic Trottingham!

That, and Flitter had had a few drinks.

“We can cut through the alleyway,” he offered, pointing down the blackened passage before them.

A cloud of steam escaping a sewage grate scattered what little light pierced the place. Flitter gave a weak smile.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” he said.

“Wasn’t worried ‘bout it bein’ safe,” Flitter muttered. She took a step and felt her balance shift too far forward.

She stopped, held her breath and concentrated. Putting one hoof in front of the other, she marched into the darkness. She could hear her new friend pacing alongside her, carefully checking to make sure she didn’t stumble on anything. As soon as she felt her balance tip, he would be there to catch her and guide her forward.

The two passed a dumpster which held bags of frozen trash, giving off no stench in the dead of winter. Flitter shivered, though not due to the cold. In fact, though she wore no coat, she was feeling warmer than usual. Something else made her shiver. Something unearthly.

There was somepony standing there, in the dark behind the dumpster. He had been watching her, probably for a while. How long had he been there?

“Theodore,” the figure said. Not as a question, but a statement.

“Boss? Is that you? Whaddya doin’ here?” Flitter’s friend asked.

“This one is compatible.”

Flitter smiled idly. She knew what the each word meant, but the sentence made no sense. Compatible with what? This Boss guy was funny!

“Really?” Theodore asked.

“Hush. Waste no time. Up on the hill. Go.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Flitter wasn’t quite sure what happened, but a moment later the pony was gone. He had been there and then, not. Quite a trick to pull on somepony late at night.

So busy was she, pondering the disappearing act, that she did not notice her friend slip behind her. She did hear the vague sound of something metallic clanking, perhaps he had picked something up? She was about to ask him when -

Pain, all through her head. A ringing in her ears. She slumped over and saw her ‘friend’ bearing down on her. Another strike came.

Everything went black.

Dear Silent

I don’t know who else to turn to. Flitter’s been missing for two days and nopony will even listen to me. You’re the only one I know who can help. Please?

-Cloudchaser

That had been the content of the letter she had received that morning. Cloudchaser? That filly she had been to school with all those years ago? Why even bother with her?

Silent Rivers had flown to Trottingham as night fell. Cloudchaser had failed to provide her hotel room number, and only by checking the letterhead had Silent been able to find out where she was staying. Asking the desk clerk would be suspicious, and there were other ways.

Silent made a pass around the building. It was longer than it was wide, presumably with rooms on either side, facing out towards the street. She’d need a place to land where she’d be able to see the hotel’s many rooms, and found one in the form of a squat building across the street. While the Trottingham International was a good twenty stories and made of concrete and glass, it’s counterpoints were the many smaller, more traditional structures that surrounded it. One such structure was Geno’s Pizza, with an enormous sign shaped like a pizza slice jutting into the air. Silent wheeled and slowed to perch herself right on top of its crust.

Twelve years ago, Trottingham’s city council had decided that it was through with the city’s reputation as a sleepy little burg. The population had been in a great upswing, finance and industry had found the city’s lax laws to be attractive, and the public didn’t ask too many questions. The council had undertaken a big redevelopment project, and Trottingham International was one of its many victims. It took the look of a giant towering above so many lilliputians, dominating Trottingham’s skyline with gray and white.

Across the street, however, were the old-world buildings who had not been blessed by the extended hoof of the well-intentioned developers. Some still had thatched roofs, while others had the sheer gall of having ponies undertake their decoration. Attitudes amongst the population had begun reflecting the curious duality represented in the architecture.

All this was merely a prelude, part of basic research. Silent was not from Trottingham, and had few contacts here. Her office was based in Canterlot, though that city meant nothing to her; any centralized location would have served equally as well. Even the office itself was little more than a place to put her current casefile papers. A janitor’s closet would have done just as well were it not for the obvious security issues.

As Silent perched on the restaurant’s sign, a fleck of snow made its way from the sky and nestled on her nose. She brushed it off, unhappy at the glint of white interrupting her otherwise camouflaged form. Her mane was black and held in a simple ponytail. Her coat was a light tan, which blended well into woodwork but was a liability in winter. Her amber eyes offered no physical advantages, but she contented herself with the knowledge that most wouldn’t remember seeing them.

Silent waited there for an hour, and watched as the artificial lights inside the hotel began to blink out. At ten o'clock, most of the lights had extinguished themselves, as it was a weeknight and most of the denizens were no doubt business-ponies. A few lights remained on, narrowing the search down. Silent took wing and began inspecting the rooms from a closer vantage point.

After spotting a besuited pony and an empty room, the third search turned up as expected. Cloudchaser sat on the base of the hotel bed, staring down at the floor. She did not take note as Silent perched herself on the railing just outside the window. Only when the sliding glass door moved did Cloudchaser look up. First, confusion, then, relief.

“Silent! I didn’t think you’d come!”

Silent stepped in and shut the glass door behind her. Two suitcases, sloppily packed, littered the floor. No food remains, no plates, and no smells of anything edible. A quick glance at the trash can confirmed Silent’s initial suspicions, and cleared Cloudchaser of any doubt.

“Flitter’s gone missing. Why didn’t you file a missing-ponies report?” Silent asked.

“Straight to business, as always?” Cloudchaser asked. She managed a weak smile, but any attempt to reassure was dashed by the clear indication of tears staining her face.

Silent merely stared in response.

“Well,” Cloudchaser said, dropping the attempted smile, “I tried, but the guardsponies just laughed at me. They said tourists sometimes get ‘lost’.”

“She’s not lost, is she?” Silent asked.

“No, we’re supposed to go back home tomorrow morning. She’s never gone out like this, ever! If she’s staying out late, she always leaves me a message or something, she doesn’t just disappear.”

“Where did you last see her?”

“The bar downstairs,” Cloudchaser answered.

Silent took one look outside, noting that the snow was increasing in volume. She turned back to Cloudchaser. “Grab a coat.”

“Uh, okay, sure.”

Cloudchaser kicked her luggage bag over, scattering the contents on the floor. A brief search yielded a thin red fleece coat. The sudden realization that she had company caused Cloudchaser to lower her head as she looked sheepishly at Silent.

“What?” she asked.

Silent stared at her. Any disapproval, it seemed, was well hidden. Cloudchaser zipped up the fleece coat and cast a sidelong look at Silent.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Silent walked past the beds and pushed the door open, leading to the garishly lit hotel hallway beyond. Cloudchaser trotted to catch up as Silent turned and wordlessly followed the sign pointing to the stairs.

“Hey,” Cloudchaser asked, “how come you didn’t come in the front way?”

“I have my reasons,” Silent replied.

All further attempts to start a conversation were likewise dashed as the two made their way downstairs.

Trottingham International Hotel’s local restaurant and bar. Fairly high number of patrons, for a weekday. Most of them were still wearing business suits and drinking alone. Almost all of the patrons were male, with two females lurking in a booth far from the entrance. They kept their eyes down and focused on their drinks. Silent led Cloudchaser straight to the bar and motioned to sit down.

The bartender met her eyes but made no move to come closer. He was a middle-aged fellow, good: he’d remember a pony like Flitter. He was currently serving something black to two colts wearing matching suits, both with little blue insignias on them. Silent couldn’t make out the details other than that some text was inscribed thereupon. Were it not for that, the two would have blended right into the background, become invisible in a crowded place. Silent filed away that knowledge for later.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked as he finally made his way over to them.

Silent stared right into the bartender’s eyes and took note of all his facial twitches. She said nothing, she simply stared and waited. After a few seconds, his eyes wandered over to Cloudchaser. At that exact moment, Silent spoke.

“Sparkling water. With an olive in it.”

The bartender nodded and turned, heading to the opposite end of the bar where the olives were stored. Cloudchaser looked at her quizzically.

“Why didn’t you ask him - “

“Patience,” Silent replied.

The two colts down the bar were both looking at Cloudchaser now, though Silent watched only with her peripheral vision. She was more interested in getting the bartender to talk, ideally without him wanting anything in return.

“There you are,” the bartender said, sliding a small martini glass with bubbling carbon-laced water towards Silent. A toothpick with a single olive on it lounged to one side. Silent regarded it neutrally.

“And for your friend?”

“She’s not having anything,” Silent answered, keeping her eyes locked on the olive. She looked up, noting that the bartender’s eyes were still focused on Cloudchaser.

“Oh?” he asked.

“She’s already had too many for this trip. Was she here two nights ago?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Silent. Cloudchaser was just plain confused.

“Now that I think of it, yes she was. Was she not supposed to be?”

“No, but thank you for your honesty. I assume she didn’t pay?”

The bartender frowned. “No, she didn’t. But her boyfriend offered to cover her tab. Ain’t seen him in here since then. You gonna cover her?”

Silent shot a look at Cloudchaser, who was wide eyed and clearly lost.

“I’m sorry about this,” Silent said, “she’s got some bad habits. Flitter, please pay your tab.”

Cloudchaser closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. “How much is it?”

“Fifteen bits.”

Money clanked on the bar and the bartender smiled broadly as he scooped up the change. More curiously, Silent could see the two business ponies now taking a great interest in the proceedings. One of them was salivating slightly, the other trying, and failing, to divert his gaze. Silent refocused on the task at hoof.

“I need to speak with her ‘boyfriend’ as well. Think you can help me find him?”

The bartender’s smile fell off his face the moment Silent sarcastically enunciated the words. His face betrayed concern, and more importantly, honesty. Easy reads made cases go much smoother.

“He’s not gonna be in tonight, it’s a work night.”

“Where does he work?” Silent asked.

“Dunno.”

“But you do know he won’t be in here? How?”

“He said so, uh, earlier. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but he’s not in trouble is he?”

Silent waited a moment, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. The bartender’s concern and knowledge coincided here. With a little pressing…

“He took something that was not his,” she answered.

The bartender stamped a hoof and clenched his jaw. He shook his head for a second before refocusing on Cloudchaser.

“I’m really sorry, miss. Teddy’s a good guy, but he’s had a hard life. Please don’t press charges!”

“We’re not going to press charges if we get it back,” Silent said. She leaned over the bar and whispered, just loud enough that only the bartender would hear it. “There’s no need to escalate this. Just tell us where he is and we’ll be on our way.”

The bartender fought with himself for a moment as Silent leaned back. As she did, she noticed the two business ponies had left the bar. Their little blue insignias were nowhere to be seen, even as Silent quickly scanned the room.

“Rook’s Winery, up on the hill. Don’t tell the guards, he’s got two strikes already. Just - just get your thing back, okay? Don’t tell him I told you, either.”

Silent indulged in a single sip of the sparkling water, and nodded at Cloudchaser. The two prepared to leave, though not before Silent deposited a bit next to the glass.

“Thank you,” she said to the bartender, still keeping her face as flat and emotionless as possible, “you’ve been very helpful.”

“Wow Silent, that was amazing!” Cloudchaser said as the two trod along the darkened streets of Trottingham. The fresh-fallen snow piled atop older droves, slowly filling in the tracks other ponies had made before them. Silent walked ahead of Cloudchaser, who constantly pushed herself to walk faster.

“Uh,” Cloudchaser said, “how did you - well, everything? How’d you know the bartender knew Flitter? All that stuff?”

“I didn’t,” Silent replied, keeping her eyes forward. “He was eager to tell me, all he needed was a reason. He likes playing the good guy, so all I had to do was make it look like he was enabling somepony to hurt others. Simple stuff. Good thing you look so much like Flitter, or that might have gotten expensive.”

“Expensive?”

“Bribes are the fallback case. Everypony talks if the price is right.”

Having left Trottingham’s downtown, the rows and rows of houses began to blend together. All told, it wasn’t that small of a city, but the old design of the lanes and gulleys gave it the impression of a small town. Most houses had been brightly painted when they were first built, but now that had run and faded. The buildings surrounding Silent and Cloudchaser now took on a weathered look, at least on the fronts. Mounds of snow hid the ravages of time behind soft, white, featureless perfection.

As the two travelled, signs began to appear on each street corner directing them to the famous historic site known as Rook’s Winery. Silent took a moment to examine one, as each gave a succinct history of the place.

It was old, very old, and had been owned by the same family since before Trottingham had even been incorporated. The signs boasted of secret doors and hidden chambers: ginned up lies designed to hook tourists. Presumably, the gift shop selling fine spirits had as much to do with the appeal to visitors as did ghosts of long-dead relatives.

The street ended a block ahead of them, and thick forest beyond that. Next to the line of whited trees was another sign advertising the winery, larger but with the same general information. Another, smaller, and definitely more recent sign adorned this one, attached by length of string. ‘CLOSED FOR SEASON’.

“Hold up,” Silent said, moving herself to block Cloudchaser, “we fly from here.”

“Huh? Why?”

Before snow had come, there had been a trail here. Trails of hoofprints could be seen leading out into the trees, all of which had been partialled infilled by the evening’s snowstorm. All, except one.

Silent took off and flew above the forest canopy, and Cloudchaser quickly flew to catch up. After several minutes of flight, Silent descended towards an opening in the white-covered trees. Instead of landing on the ground, she angled towards a tree branch and perched herself on it, shaking the snow off. Cloudchaser hovered awkwardly to her side, wondering what she was looking at.

“See the tracks?” Silent said without pointing. Cloudchaser followed her gaze.

The opening in the trees allowed the moonlight to reflect off the snow, showing many tracks. As before, one set was more recent than the others.

“So?” Cloudchaser asked.

“That set was made recently. What sort of work is there to do at a winery during the winter?”

“I don’t know,” Cloudchaser said, “maybe they’re trying to get their inventory finished? It’s a really early snowfall this year, because of the fire.”

“Fire?” Silent asked.

“Yeah, couple weeks ago. Big fire, sucked up a ton of water. Weather service had to completely redo their plans and start winter early.”

“I see,” Silent said, “better be careful regardless. Something is fishy.”

Without another word, Silent took off again and the two continued on towards the winery, now visible as two glowing yellow lights obscured by the muted white forest.

As Silent ascended and crested the last row of trees, the winery’s buildings came into view. Dimly lit by the pale glow of the moonlight, there were two lanterns hanging adjacent to the main entryway, itself little more than a wooden signpost weathered beyond legibility. The fence here was not as well maintained as the one at Trottingham, somewhat deliberately so. The entire complex gave off a rustic atmosphere, presumably to make tourists more open to spending bits.

The winery itself was two tall, wooden buildings that stretched out into the darkness. Across from them, the vineyard’s hundreds of plants had been covered in sheets to keep the snow from settling on them. What snow that had tried had fallen into the gullies between the rows to be shovelled out into mounds at the edge of the tree line.

Silent again perched herself on a branch as Cloudchaser hesitantly followed suit, clumsily shaking the branch and producing much excess noise. While the trail had led here, the tracks had not.

“Are we - “ Cloudchaser began, to be immediately shushed by Silent.

“Shh. Look,” Silent said, holding up a hoof.

Cloudchaser followed the path down into the forest with her eyes, confirming that whoever had started up the path had not completed their trek yet.

“You think he got lost?”

“More like stuck,” Silent said, “so we wait.”