Two pegasi sat in a small cabin, one a blue stallion and the other, a grey mare. They shared a nervousness expressions. Hooves tapped against wooden floorboards and wings shifted. The sound of heavy raindrops hitting the roof outside echoed through the small cabin filling the silence that choked the air. Tension hung like a some reaper ready to strike some cursed soul as the pair waited. Above them a pair of vivid, violet eyes watched in rapt attention, unawares of the form that hung between twin rafters.
The door to the cabin flew open and a unicorn burst inside. Thunder rent the night as if to beckon the unicorn's appearance. Her chest heaved as she slammed the door shut. Water dripped from dark red fur as she trudged toward the pair.
"Is it done?" The stallion asked as he stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly.
"Yes," the mare said. She whipped her waterlogged purple mane out of her eyes. Her body language was opposite the other two as calm radiated from her features. "Dr. Good Feel is dead." She chuckled and a cruel smile crossed her muzzle. "Shame he struggled too. Then again he did have a pole through his chest."
The pegasi shared another expression, disgust. One even went a shade of green not unlike freshly cut grass.
"Ms. Steel Edge," a voice hissed from above, startling the trio below. It was a chilling sound like a raven's screech on a moonless night. "Quite the record you have. Sixteen kills this year alone. I must say you were difficult to track. Then again hit-ponies often are."
"You brought cops?!" the red mare hissed. The pegasi stepped back, their heads shaking fervently in tandem.
"N-no we didn't," the mare stammered," We had no idea she was here."
A gaunt slate grey earth pony mare jumped down with deft ease, her dark brown heavy coat rustling behind her. She was haunting to behold in the low light. Her violet eyes held contempt as they bored into the trio. "They speak the truth," she said with that same haunting hiss," I trailed them here in hopes they would lead me to you." The mare chuckled, the sound akin to a rusty bell. "Tut tut never get a client that is nervous. They tend to make mistakes."
Steel Edge smirked. The fool before her had given away her position to a killer, a skilled one at that. She slowly drew a knife from her own coat, her horn's glow masked by her dripping mane. "So what now hmmm?" She asked. "Because it looks like you've given away where you are and I'm in between you and the door."
The mare snorted as if annoyed," Please you're skills are mediocre at best." A shiver ran visibly down the mare's gaunt form. "But kudos on the creative way you dispatch your quarry."
"Lets get out of here!" The stallion yelled as he bolted for the door, the mare not far behind. They bumped into Steel, who was startled by the outburst.
The red mare regained her footing and cursed. She turned to the earth pony, rage naked on her face, and lunged forward, a scream of rage in her throat and her knife at her side. The earth pony stepped to the side at the last moment. Sharp steel sliced through air and the grey earth pony tripped the unicorn up. Years of training showed as she skillfully caught herself and sliced at the mare a second time. Again the earth pony dodged with a lazy side step, only infuriating the assassin more. She growled and ripped her knife form the floor boards.
"So who are you?" Steel asked, her blade returning to her side in a flash of white.
"A sleuth nothing more," the earth pony said, shrugging indifferently. She made the first move this time as she closed the distance between them in two quick steps and sent a lazy right cross out. The unicorn easily blocked it but the cross became a feint. The assassin only watched in disbelief as the earth pony pivoted and sent a buck into her jaw. Her teeth clacked painfully and her vision went dark. She fell to the ground with a dull heavy thud.
The earth pony smoothed out her grayish black mane and checked her watch. The whole encounter took one minute thirty seconds on the dot. Satisfied with her time she picked the body up and made for her destination, the rain feeling rather pleasant after having to stay in that musty cabin for hours.
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
"Hey captain you might want to see this."
Iron Cuffs looked up at the scruffy sergeant. He was a massive earth pony with dark green fur and a black mane peppered with grey. He had just finished a fifteen hour shift and he was well ready for bed. He put his report aside.
"What's going on sergeant?" he asked, his deep voice betraying his fatigue.
"It's better I show ya Cap," the young sergeant started toward the front door.
Iron decided to humor the young upstart. Outside tied up like a Hearth's warming gift was an unconscious red unicorn mare. A small plastic bag were taped to her horn. Iron had been on the force for a long time, even decades but he had to admit this was a first. The sergeant passed a note to him.
"This was on her horn."
'This is the pony responsible for the murder of Essence Balm among many others. Evidence to this is in the plastic bag as well as a vocal recording of Ms. Steel admitting to the murder of Dr. Feel Good. The ponies that hired her are Falling Feather and Peachy Keen both pegasi that live at 223 east Brockstreet. You'll find Dr. Feel Good dead in the abandoned cannery at the lower docks in the slums, a pole through his chest.'
Iron stared at the note in disbelief. He had thought Rest In Peace was a myth but here he was staring at the evidence proving his or her existence. He pulled the baggy up. A small manila folder sat inside. He passed the note to the young sergeant.
A small crowd comprised entirely of police ponies had gathered on the precincts stoop. Iron thanked Celestia it was near midnight, and that no civilians were out and about.
"Did anyone see the pony that had placed her hear?" Iron asked the assembly of officers. His answer came in the form of the uniformed ponies looking at each other, and the nervous shuffling of hooves.
"Grand," he grumbled under his breath. His detectives had been on the case of Essence Balm for the better part of a week and if this was the killer then it was a blessing in disguise. "Lets get moving then. Get her in a cell and a blocker on that horn. I'm gonna look over this so called evidence. Hop to it ya lazy bunch."
The officers scrambled to obey the captain.
Across the city a grieving family of zebras awoke to the sound of a knock at their door. Upon opening the door they found a note attached to their door. It held only a single message.
'R.I.P. Essence Balm'
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
Ingrid Raven Pie sighed in relief as she walked into the hotel lobby. She appeared gaunt, severe and hard as iron, her greyish charcoal mane and stone grey coat only amplifying this. Completing her image was a black quill with a single drop of blood hanging precariously form its tip stood out against her fur on each flank. A sense of accomplishment filling her soul. This was the part she hated though, when the case was ended. Now it was only wait before another murder popped up that would interest her. Ingrid was a patient mare though she could wait. She shrugged her damp heavy coat off and placed it on her back as she made for the stairs. The late night clerk waved her over just as she passed by.
Tonight had been a good night for her. After a two month long venture she had finally caught that sorry excuse of a hit-pony. Her only saving grace was her skill at evading the law, and her creative ways of killing. Another shiver of delight ran down her spine at remembering the six kills she had come across left by Ms. Edge. Such imagination! She hadn't bothered tracking the pair that had hired her to kill the doctor. Didn't matter to her they didn't wield the knife, merely aimed it. Besides what she had found out about the doctor Good Feel, he was scum at best and better left to the crows.
"Ms. Duster," she said pushing her slender frame glasses up," A letter arrived for you earlier." The clerk seemed tense around Ingrid but this was expected. She rarely smiled, preferring to appear deep in thought but to the outsider she came off as grim, severe, a trait she had picked up from her father. She had come to terms with the fact long ago that others found her haunting especially when they saw her talent mark. Not that she cared what others thought of her, it was why she never bothered with the ritualistic beauty techniques other mares used. The next case was all that mattered to Ingrid, besides family of course. She made a note to write her sisters when the chance showed itself.
A curios expression crossed Ingrid's face as she accepted the plane white envelope. It held no a address, not even a stamp. Hoof delivered no doubt, she decided. She never got mail. Her chest tightened and she quickly thanked the clerk and rushed to her room. Inside she ripped the envelope open and began reading.
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
‘Ms. Ingrid R. Pie,
I find myself in the need of your skills. It has come to my attention that within Canterlot ponies, no matter the station noble or common, have been disappearing for some weeks now. To avoid panic, particularly in the wake of the changeling invasion some weeks ago, I have kept this string of disappearances quiet. We have tried to track these ponies down but to no avail.
I have tracked your career for some time now, impressed by your results, though I am loath to agree with your preference to work outside the law. That aside I wish for us to meet at the Bannered Flagon in Canterlot. I believe you know of the bar I speak. There we will discuss matters further. Come by tomorrow at sunset.
With Regards,
Starry Skies
Ingrid was very rarely shocked, surprised once or twice yes but never shocked. Large, searching violet eyes scanned the letter in her hooves, baffled by its very existence. Her features were neutral as she reread the letter, discerning anything she could from its contents.
It was horn-written obviously, and the depth told Ingrid the writer’s confidence, even arrogance to a minor degree. The slants in several other letters marked a high intelligence and aged wisdom. This was expected but what caught her eye were the ends of sentences, punctuation. This letter’s scribe was of a playful nature. Whoever this Starry Skies was certainly had to have quite the skill to be able to track Ingrid down.
For as long as the earth pony had been solving cases she had done them in her own timeframe, only starting them if they truly interested her, and she only focused on homicides. She felt drawn to murders, feeling them to be tales yet told.
Some investigators, particularly within the government, would try to track her down from time to time but they would only find mocking whispers. A year ago one had come frightfully close but she had managed to shake him off. Ingrid had thought she had won that round but years of successful evasion had made her prideful. The second she had received the letter she made for the train staion the following morning. She cared little for the case, her passion being murders not foal-knapping. But she had been caught by this Starry Skies. The board was set, the pieces in place and her opponent had declared ‘Check!’. A small smile played at her lips as she looked out the window at the passing fields.
It was her move.
In the distance Canterlot, an alabaster monument branching proudly from the side of a lone mount, rose like a shining beacon from the horizon. How long had it been since she last visited the City of Magic? Not since her last case a year ago. Nostalgia filled the mare as she gazed at the rapidly approaching city, her smile spreading softly. Good times. With a breath she sat up and started pulling her saddlebags on, the letter going into a side pocket.
The train pulled into the station and ponies piled out of the train cars in droves. Ingrid stepped out onto the platform and made for the exit. She weaved through the crown akin to a snake through grass. She looked to a massive clock above the station’s entrance. It was high noon and she had some time to kill before needing to get to her ‘meeting’.
The scenic route then she decided. Within the streets it was very lively in the city. Ponies ran to and from on errands. Ingrid found her-self indulging an old hobby as she walked along at a leisurely pace. She spotted a young mare and stallion sitting across from each other at a café. The mare appeared obviously nervous while the stallion appeared confident. A slight shake in his hind knees told the opposite though. A first or second date to be sure. A beautiful snow white unicorn walked along trailed by a swarm of nobles. Her stride told of her common birth, straightforward in its way. Ingrid could swear she looked familiar.
Ingrid almost laughed when she spotted a pickpocket weaving through the crowd. A flash of pink signaled the pilfering of another purse. Years of practice had obviously honed his skill. He got a good six purses before ducking into an alley. "Brava," the earth mare thought as she continued on, taking in the many sights on her way. Ingrid made it to the Common Wealth by the time sunset came around. Despite the lateness in the day the streets were still filled with the hoof-beats of fellow souls. Ingrid's lips twitched into a smile as she took in the sights. Canterlot was so alive! She loved the city for all its activity, and the mystery that lay underneath every encounter, every event.
The air had cooled considerably making it refreshingly crisp. The warm aroma of a nearby bakery filled Ingrid’s nose. Trees that lined the center of the street held leaves of red, orange and bright yellow. The atmosphere reminded her of autumn evenings with her family. Nostalgia again pulled a smile from the grim looking mare. The streets here were narrower without being crowded. Vendors were beginning to pack up their stands for the night. The Bannered Flagon resided between an old storehouse and an antique shop.
Ingrid eyed the pub’s sign, steeling herself. Within lay her quarry and, if she was honest, uncharted territory. Normally she was the one with all the cards but now… Giddiness rushed through her slender frame as the prospect of a challenge, again, filled her mind. She was fairly certain she wouldn't be recognized. After all it had been a full year since she last worked here as a barmaid. She was glad the pub was still up and running. Only this time owner-ship had switched hooves through more legal means. With a cleansing breath she opened the door.
The pub was alive with celebration as ponies conveyed the day’s events, worried about tomorrows and caught on with old friends. Barmaids ran between tight, packed tables, their backs holding orders. The scent of honeyed ale and rich berry wines permeated the air pleasantly. Violet eyes briefly scanned the room. Ingrid noted some of the patrons were sitting quietly a full mug sitting still between lax hooves. A purple hoof shot into the air as a mousy unicorn mare beckoned the severe mare over.
Ingrid walked over in measured steps. Her quarry was homely in her features, barely noteworthy. Her magenta mane hung at her shoulders and her cutie mark was covered by the simple dress that formed to her slender figure. The tip of what was possibly a white crescent moon stood out just under the hem of the black dress. It wasn't uncommon for ponies in Canterlot, unicorns especially, to wear clothes on a more common basis. This mare looked unassuming at best but looks could be deceiving. A smile was plastered on her face, teal eyes sparkling. Ingrid’s first conclusion was correct. This mare held playfulness in those eyes as well as a veiled intelligence.
“Ms. Pie,” the unicorn pushed a hoof forward, unwrapping itself from a mug of ale as it did so,” It’s so good to meet you in pony.”
The tone was strong, and held a regality. The feel of one who commanded others was starkly apparent. The fur above Ingrid’s hind right hoof stood on end as she sat down at the table. Her Sleuth's Insight! A cheat she knew but everyone had their trump card. This mare was using a glamour spell. Glamour spells, from Ingrid’s experience, could change every detail of a pony's appearance if done right, except eye color and the caster's cutie mark. So this mare was a noble from what the letter entailed and quite possibly high in station. The majesty in her voice only cemented this.
Ingrid’s mind ran though all other variables as to who this mare really was. Obviously noble and of high station. Ingrid stopped as she noticed Starry Skies' teal eyes, a truly rare color. She recalled one of her sister's letters . It had come with a photo of her friends with Princess Luna. Hindsight placed the last piece of the puzzle. The quiet ponies throughout the bar, seven in all, suspicious in such a high number. What's more they never touched their mugs. A violet eye cast an eye to one a table away, his back turned. The very tip of a leathery wing poked out from under his waistcoat. A thestral no doubt.
Mere seconds had passed before Ingrid's hoof met that of Starry Skies. "Princess Luna," her features switching to smug triumph as she regarded the individual before her. "It is an honor.”
The briefest flash of shock flashed across teal eyes before “Starry Skies” recomposed herself with practiced ease but the damage was done as Ingrid had all the evidence she needed. She felt her lips twitch up at the sides but held her stony gaze. "Check," the sleuth thought with a sense of victory.
“Very good,” the Princess murmured before the same small smile from before graced her lips,” You are as good as I’ve been led to believe.”
“Thank you,” Ingrid said.
She sat back and tapped the passing barmaid as the unicorn mare passed,” A scotch please.” Ingrid relished the uneasy look she received from the mare. She turned to look back at Luna as the barmaid gave a small nod and hurried on her way. “And I find myself honored to be hunted by the Princess of the Night but I must ask: Why call for me to solve this case? When you are indeed skilled enough to track me down.”
Again surprise flashed across the royal’s eyes, and just as quickly it vanished. Luna pulled her mug over in the dark blue glow of her magic for a sip. “I see the lack of regard for the station of others runs in the family.”
Ingrid’s eyes narrowed the fraction of an inch, her good will lost at the mention of her sister. She had a feeling which one. The barmaid just then placed a glass of scotch before her.
“Thank you,” she said without tearing her eyes from the disguised princess. She picked the glass up and took a sip, ignoring the burn of the auburn liquid as it raced down her throat. “You are referring to Pinkamena.” Ingrid set the glass down with closed eyes. “We Pies tend to only give respect where it is earned.” She again fixed her eyes on the royal before her, the gaze softening slightly. ”And you’ve earned mine. What are the details?”
“Thirty-two ponies have gone missing so far, and that's just the ones we know of.” She placed a small notebook on the oaken tabletop. “Nineteen of common birth and thirteen from the nobility. As I said in the letter the only ponies who know of the disappearances are high ranking guards, my sister, the families of the missing ponies, and lastly, I. We have taken every precaution to keep this from the public but every secret leaks to the surface with time. I estimate it merely a matter of days before we are no longer able to keep this hidden form the public eye. This notebook holds everything we could gather thus far, tis not much but given the recent events and the delegation with Thetka, I can’t tear myself away from the palace for very long periods of time. So this leaves my final option.”
“Me.” Ingrid picked the notebook and thumbed through it.
“Indeed. You can operate with a level of discretion the Royal Guard quite frankly lack, and that is what is needed with this case.”
Among the long list of names one name in particular stood out to the sleuth, Prince Blueblood. Her eyes widened a fraction.
“I see you found one of the names of interest,” Luna said form behind a raised mug. This was why she was called in, because a member of the royal family had been abducted. “I won’t lie to you I detest Blueblood. The second I met him I found him-“
Ingrid cut in, violet eyes flicking to teal. “Rude, arrogant to the point of being insufferable, and a fool at best.”
“You’re well acquainted then,” Luna said.
“In passing only,” Ingrid looked back at the notebook,” I infiltrated the palace two years ago under the guise of a maid. I was investigating the murder of a lieutenant in the Royal Guard and needed access to the Captain’s office for a few choice files.”
The royal quirked an eyebrow and said: ”Quite the crime to admit to.”
"And in the end I uncovered and caught a serial killer.” Ingrid’s eyes shown with conviction as she looked back at Luna. “Besides if you are as in the know of my activities as you say then you must know I’ve done worse.”
“True,” Luna admitted. "Besides that a good number of the council which advices Celestia is unfortunately on that list, normally I would think this a political play, as it is most common in such situations. Considering the disappearances started two days after we received word that Thetka wished for a formal meeting of the nations, regarding an alliance. But the council members that are among that list, both back Celestia or are openly against her. As for Blueblood, he holds no influence among the courts of any kind, he is essentially a pompous mare-chaser. My sister thinks the world of him though. She looks to him as a son. She has suffered enough these last thousand years and I'll be damned to Tartarus if I see her do so any longer.”
Ingrid listened intently to Luna's words. If those of the Council of Advisors were missing then this was indeed a political play. Possibly using the other disappearances as cover. Ultimately though any decisions The Solar Monarch made were hers, and hers
alone. The council was just made to make the mortals feel they had assay in things. Ingrid resisted the urge to snort at the idea of anyone thinking they can persuade an immortal with a thousand years of experience at ruling a country to do anything. It was almost laughable, the arrogance of some ponies.
“You feel you owe her.” From the flinch in her associate’s features Ingrid knew she had hit the mark.
“I owe her more than you can ever know.” Sadness flashed in her eyes but this time the emotion stayed. Luna looked down at her mug, shame mingling her commanding voice. “But more so We- I will not stand for the abduction of my subjects.” The archaic slip in her speech was odd to Ingrid. Then again the mare across from her had come form another time altogether “Celestia is beside herself with grief at his disappearance but she hides it well, as she has always done. As she must with tensions as they are with Thetka.”
“I’ll take the case,” Ingrid said suddenly.” But I have two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“First and foremost, I will need the full cooperation of the Royal Guard without question. Essentually they do what I say, when I say, and how I say it. No questions, no backtalk. Second, tell no one of my involvement from here on out. To the Guard simply give an alias if need be but nothing else. I will contact you specifically if I need anything. I want no one knowing that I'm on this case. Who else knows who I am?”
“You will have them. Myself and Commander Silentstep are the only ones who know of your identity and purpose here. Now name your price.”
Ingrid barely held back a sneer as her eyes reflected a cold light. “Nothing insults the intellectual more than others thinking their mind can be bought and sold. I do this for respect’s sake and curiosity only. I only ask that any information you have on me is burned and your Commander be sworn to secrecy.” True were her words for her morbid curiosity was what drew her to each and every case she had solved in the past. Besides she would be lying if she didn’t admit possibly finding Prince Blueblood facedown somewhere cold as the crypt appealing. "Amazing," Ingrid pondered to herself, "how a few seconds in passing could spark hate in one’s soul but there you go."
“Very well,” Luna said as she and Ingrid shook hooves, sealing the contract between them.
After a polite farewell the royal left Ingrid to her thoughts. Her entourage filed out shortly afterwards in a trickle. Ingrid continued to study the notebook in silence as she enjoyed her scotch. The notebook had minimal information on the victims including: names, addresses, and careers if they had one. But there was little to no connection between the victims. Among the common birth they ranged from clockmaker's assistant to dress makers. The Nobility had many low level, lawyers, some military. There were seven that had been on the council. There had to be a connection with the peace talks with Pegathesos. Jewel Hilt, Stark Contrast, Readmore, Thesis Draft, Steady Numbers, Stariline Ebondove, Red Sash.
Sir Red Sash, the retired Captain, had been the latest to disappear. Ingrid placed the rest of the names in the back of her head, the council members had to be the key to this. Maybe a “visit” to these ponies’ homes would discern more. So with a generous tip left on the table, Ingrid stole away into the chilled moonlit night.
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
The home in question was a modest mansion on the very edge of Noble’s Way nearest the Common Wealth. It had a series of stone pathways in its grounds but lacked the greenery other Nobles seemed so fond of choking their homes with. Ingrid found infiltration simple and the staffing sparse and grieving, many having donned black attire and veils- possibly for the loss of their master. The office was the location of interest and was easy enough to find. The decor of the mansion was to the taste of a weapons collector as well as having the mark of a loyalist. It also held partialness to the practical in its way for crests hung from walls and the carpets held depictions of the Royal Seal and Crest, that of a white moon over a yellow sun.
The office held a few rapiers- once well and fondly used by the look of their condition- hung on its walls, while a painting of the house’s master hung over the writing desk. The metals and photos that line the walls told her his military history was long and decorated. In a few she saw him with fellow soldiers, some being minotaur. He had served a term in Minos, during the Talonreach invasion. He looked rather young in most, Ingrid estimated mid twenties. Quite the rank for one so young if the photos were anything to go by.
He stood with a beautiful ceremonial rapier at his side, and an immaculate dark red uniform with a white sash across the chest. His golden fur shown even through the painting. His sliver mane was combed back, and a handsome goatee adorned his chin. His horn was long and slender, showing his adept spell casting prowess- a desirable trait from what Ingrid knew of unicorn preference. His piercing red eyes shown with a hardness only combat could forge. Ingrid noticed a sorrow in those eyes. His cutie mark was a silver rapier thrust downward with twin red sashes twirled around it from its hilt to sword tip. He looked distinguished and quite handsome; Ingrid had to admit.
Bookcases lined the room, filled with epics from around the world. Above the collection Ingrid noted that classics from Highfeather, a long since fallen griffin empire, had well worn spines.
When he returned home he was granted the title of Knight-Errant, and his own estate by Princess Celestia herself. Soon after he earned himself a place on the Council From the medals she saw hanging in cases she knew this to be true. And the Iron Star, the highest honor a soldier can receive, sat polished and proud below the painting. The desk held a few letters to some friends, close from the contents. A single sheet stood out. It was buried under a few of the books that rested on the desktop.
All it said was: 'Nos sciatis.'
The only discerning mark was a small black sun at the top, twin red lines lashed across it. The script was fine, elegant but had been mouth written. This meant something she knew. She did a another check of the letters, some were from Gilded Saber, patriarch of the Saber family, and Jewel Hilt's older brother. They were trifle really, from a nephew to an uncle it looked.
The slamming of a door in the hall cut Ingrid's reading off. She cursed under her breath and pulled the tome into her bag. The door opened just as she ducked behind it, and a lone, solemn maid walked in, duster in mouth. The sleuth decided to make her existence scarce and stole out of the door silent as a mouse.
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
The next house was that of Jewel Hilt, the young heiress of the Saber family. The extravagant mansion was brightly lit even in the dead of night. Servants could be seen moving though the windows in hurried strides while the fancily dressed nobility filed into the massive mansion. A party was being held in the house, just Ingrid's luck. With the twinge of a smirk she stole onto the grounds and through the servants' entrance, near the back. She grabbed a maid's garb and put it on.
In the main dining room all manner of nobility mingled with each other, gossiping of the latest news of this and that. Ingrid weaved through the crowd toward the stairs. No one paid the sleuth mind as she made her way to the second floor. The upper level was mostly empty and Jewel's room was easy enough to find.
A massive poster bed sat in the room's center, twin ivory topped tables sat on either side. A vanity that rivaled Ingrid's sister's sat at the far wall. All manner of makeup, jewelry, and other accessories sat on the ivory topped desk.
The room was like that of any lady of Canterlot, gaudy and vain.
A small desk with inkwell and quills atop it sat beside the door. Love letters and the like were the desk's contents. Any real clue came in the form of a crumpled piece of paper under the desk. The sleuth assumed the note had been meant for the waste bin beside the desk but had missed. It might have been thrown in anger. The piece of paper was fine parchment with a small black sun with a twin red lines slashed through it stamped on the top.
'Nos sciatis.'
Ingrid's brow furrowed at the single line of script. A pattern but what did it mean? It was better than nothing. The grey mare placed the note in her bag, hidden under her garb. She walked into the hallway and made for the stairwell. Suddenly the fur on the sleuth’s right foreleg knee stood on end.
She turned on her heel just as someone shouted: “You there!”
Ingrid bowed deeply to the approaching noble, a cerulean, silver maned unicorn. The large stallion glared balefully at the supposed maid.
“For what reason were you in my sister’s room?” he asked.
“I got lost sir,” the mare said before adding,” I am quite new sir.”
“Really now?” he said, silver eyes narrowing. “What's your reason for being here? Speak quickly now!"
“’Tis for the party my lord.” Ingrid decided to play on the unicorn’s supposed superiority, from which dripped from his body language. “Please forgive my error, this mansion is so big you see and one of the head servants asked me to fetch your lordship on the matter of the wine.”
“I see,” the young noble sniffed. ”Very well. That would be Rightly then. Tell him to bring out the Le Mio de Rouge 717 then if we are out of the Shieriea.” He covered the distance between them with a fencer’s swiftness. “And if I catch you up here again. Getting fired will be the least of you’re worries.” The chill in his voice left little to Ingrid’s imagination. As he passed she caught a glimpse of his cutie mark, a pair of crossed golden cutlasses. This was Gilded Saber, Jewel’s older brother.
The young noble made for the stairwell. Ingrid watched him with a calculating gaze, silently adding him to her list of potential accomplices. On the way down the stairs, the grey mare got a good look at the party below. Nobles from all around the city were there that night. Gossip often proved to be very informative for her investigations. She grabbed a serving trey of glasses filled with sparkling champagne and began her hunt.
She walked over to a pair of mares that were deep in conversation. “Champagne madam.” She offered to one.
“Oh thank you.” the fancily dressed young unicorn took a glass in her yellow glow and turned back to her friend. “As I was saying. I wonder where she is tonight, after all this is her favorite party of the year, just short of her birthday of course.”
“Oh I quite remember that.” The other mare sighed dreamily. “She got to dance with Prince Blueblood, such a stallion. Anyway I heard she was terribly sick, poor thing.”
“You know I heard that too. Must be quite the illness to put her up for a week.” She looked over into the crowd. “Oh there’s Rosy. Rosy this way!”
Ingrid continued on, weaving through the crowd. The chat was idle, dull, barely worth her time really. Not until she came across a small group surrounding a particularly somber, pegasus stallion. His coat was dark green and his form lithe. Ingrid offered some champagne to the small group, and was sent off with withering, haughty glares. She hung back, some distance away, her ears perked.
“I still say there is more to this than meets the eye.” The somber Pegasus looked out into the crowd toward Golden. “If I’m to be honest I think she’s dead.”
“Such a dreary thing to say.” One mare scoffed.
“Maybe.” He chuckled before his gaze hardened. “But that doesn’t dissuade the fact that she’s not here, being the socialite that I’ve heard she is. Not to mention the family won’t speak of it other than the usual ‘she’s a bit under the weather.’ I’m thinking foul play here.”
“My word such talk!” a stallion in the group exclaimed. "I mean have you seen dear Gilded? Why he's a wreck! What with the death of their father not six months ago, then this!"
“Indeed Mr. Dye. Besides why the interest in dreary tales?”
A slight smile spread across his lips for the fraction of second before disappearing into his murky expression. Ingrid recognized that smile a mile away, it was one of a killer. Ingrid wished her position could allow her to see his eyes. She bet her father's fortune they had shown with that familiar spark so was so used to.
“Just curiosity.”
Ingrid memorized his face, his movements. He was calm and kept his gaze on Golden with the flicker of his dark blue eyes ever so often. Ingrid moved back into the crowd and grabbed another plate. When she turned she found him gone. Her eyes scanned the crowd but he had disappeared. Gilded Saber wasn’t in the crowd either. Her eyes flew to the staircase, and no movement. The closest door to where Gilded had been was a way into the servant’s entrance. The sleuth cursed under her breathe and made for the servant entrance. Outside she scanned the grounds but found no sign of them.
“Damn!” Ingrid stomped a hoof. Rage flashed across her features at her failure. The grey mare dashed back inside.
Again on the second floor Ingrid tracked down Gilded's room. She was surprised at its modest state. The room was sparse with a simple bed, a writing desk standing before a tall window overlooking the gardens. The eastern wall was home to racks of all manner of blades, from claymores to daggers, all simple steel or iron. A massive training mat took up the majority of the floor space. A search of the desk didn't give any insight, Gilded was more a recluse than Red Sash it seemed. The only letters were from the old soldier in question. A dead end here she deemed until she got a look the wall above the weapon racks.
A single deep knick stared back at her.
Upon further inspection it looked as though someone had stabbed a knife into the wall. From its position, it looked as though it was meant to be seen by Gilded. If the worn sate of the training mat was any indication, Lord Saber trained frequently. A note had been placed here, she deduced, possibly the same as Lady Jewel's.
OOOoooOOOoooOOO
Fury continued to bubble in Ingrid’s belly as she kept along a roof in the Old City Quarter. Her next target was the accountant’s home, Steady Numbers. He owned a small apartment on the corner of Banks and Starling. A quiet area really and not the home you’d expect of a rich, and influential, noble, especially one of the Council. He owned firms across Equestria but operated as a shadow among them. He managed the Treasury form the public view.
She was sore at herself for losing a potential lead, two that is. It was a set back but one she would make up. For now she would indulge her hobby. The apartment was easy to break into. It was chaos at the least, reminding her of a college colt’s. Her sister once referred to this kind of mess as organized chaos. Then again said sister had a tendency to eat enough sugar to kill a small herd of elephants, and break out into sing whenever the mood stuck her. And it always struck her much to Ingrid's ire. She carefully walked among the mess. Soda bottles, pizza boxes, and al manner of unsanitary mess littered the dark red carpet. Ingrid was beginning to think this stallion wasn’t even a noble.
Ingrid noted the severe lack of photos of any kind of family as her eyes gazed around the small apartment.
The bedroom was in better condition and the closet revealed that he was indeed a noble. It was lined with suits, one had a black dove pin with a single ruby imbedded where the eye was. He was part of the Ebondove family, a reclusive group of nobles that manage a peaceful existence north of the city. A relative of Lady Starline, another connection revealed lifted the grim mare's mood.
She closed the closet door. The bed’s covers were in disarray and the tables at its sides were devoid of anything worth while. The fur stood on end on the fur just above her right hind hoof. There was a glamour ion the room. Given the lack of paintings or any such wall coverings in the room it could only mean a safe. Ingrid eyed the lampshade, the jeweled necklace that hung there. To the common thief it was cheap jewelry at best but to the keen eye, one that had seen not a trace of such jewelry in the apartment.
It was a glamour foci.
"Hidden in plain sight," Ingrid muttered to herself. "Clever"
She pulled the necklace off, and crushed it under-hoof. To the right on a wall beside the bed, a small safe appeared. A smirk crossed her features as Ingrid stepped toward the safe. The number was set exactly on twenty six, the safe‘s central number on the dial. She raised an eyebrow then pressed her ear to the dial. Careful hooves and sensitive ears saw the safe opened. “If I hadn’t become a sleuth,” she mused,” I would have made an excellent thief.”
The safe was empty.
The contents had already been lifted, by the foal-napper no doubt. Considering the apartment was in disarray, and the fact that this abductor had taken each victim without a sound or any noticeable struggle in any of the homes, that could only mean this accountant wasn’t the most organized in the home department. And placing the dial on the central number on the safe was a sign of a meticulous nature it showed a completely obvious fact. It’s a wonder the abductor hadn’t tried to clean the apartment while he or she was here. As for the contents of the safe, of that she wasn’t sure. An idea was buzzing oin the sleuth’s mind but nothing concrete.
"A unicorn could have lifted the glamour but..." the sleuth murmured to herself.
Ingrid noticed the groves in the carpet where the chest that rested at the foot of the bed, as if it had been moved. She looked underneath the chest at the foot of the bed. Sure enough a small scorch mark stared back. A list of possibilities ran through her head until she realized. A neutralizing gem had been used here! To say the least they were illegal, not to mention rare. They could only be made from flawless diamond, and only had one use that ruined the gem once complete. This abductor had recourses if her suspicions were correct.
