Spurs of Blood

Chapters

Spurs of Blood Ch 1
Ch 2
Ch 3

Spurs of Blood Ch 1

By LlamaLlumps

Llama neither owns, nor cLlaims ownership of My LlittLle Pony; Friendship Is Magic. Its setting, characters, concept and art are the soLle property of Hasbro Inc. PLlease don't sue Llama's wooLly haunches into obLlivion.

Llama seeks onLly to amuse and entertain his Bronies with a taLle of mystery, mischief and daring-do.

Warning, this narrative features bawdy humor, aduLlt concepts Llike: drug use, sexuaLl innuendo and death. If you fear Grim/lite, or disLlike RibaLld jests, perhaps a different seLlection couLld be made. On a further note, this taLle wiLl incLlude narratives from very different sociaLl, poLliticaLl, cuLlturaLl and reLligious perspectives. This may seem schizophrenic at the start, but trust Llama, aLl wiLl be made cLlear.

Now on to the story!

Spurs of Blood: Prologue

Beneath wildly flashing lights, Canterlot's young and hip shook their haunches on the insanely crowded dance floor. A fit and handsome unicorn stallion smiled winningly at the young mare dancing before him, her wide grin revealing a coating of pale, glimmering blue dust on her muzzle and coating her teeth. “You like that don't you sweetheart? Want some more, care to follow me back to my place?” She nodded mutely, her eyes wide and glinting with a faint whitish glow, as her horn began sparkling with undirected magic.

Heading for the door, she barely noticed her wing-fillies attempts to intercept the pair.

“Where is she going?”

“Who is that colt?”

“Does she look odd to anypony else?”

These questions and more swirled around the tight knot of fillies, as they chased the newly formed duo towards the door of the club. They had agreed at the beginning of the night to remain close together, as they all were freshmares at Canterlot University and all believed in the three universal truths every college filly knew:

Friendship is, in fact, magic.

Fillies just wanna have fun.

Colts only want one thing, and don't always care how they get it.

Now sweet, shy, bookish Moonflower was following some strange, handsome stallion into the night- alone. “Is her horn sparking?” Asked Opal Haze, peering at the retreating pair through the press of ponies. With renewed vigor the five mares began forcing their way through to the exit.

Reaching the cool dimness of the street, they spotted their friend, stumbling slightly as she was led into the predawn darkness. “Moonflower! Wait up!” Turning dazedly at the familiar call, she paused. The golden maned unicorn stallion snorted in frustration at their interruption of his plans for the evening.

“G- girls...?”, she stammered in a confused, slurred voice, her bleary eyed face illuminated by the increasingly frequent flashes of random magic from her horn. As her friends dew close she wavered on her hooves and then slumped to the cobblestones in a heap of creamy white and feebly twitching legs. Her escort took one glance, and bolted into the early morning shadows, vanishing like a ghost. “Moonflower!” the fillies screamed as they charged to the fallen young mare.

“Somepony call a doctor! She's not breathing!”

…....................................................................

Spurs of Blood Ch 1

I was in the main office of the Big Apple Barrel's branch of Celestia's personal guard, and it fairly reeked of authority and permanence. Like every public building in Manehattan, it had once been a grand testament to Celestia's rule, but was now showing its age. Countless layers of beige paint coated every wooden surface, with dents and dings showing through from the strata below. The floors and stairs were subtly concave from many decades of pony hooves passing over them. The old structure was still solid, and gave back the echoes of my hoof fall with firm and resolute clippity-clops. Long hallways and corridors were nearly empty of traffic, despite the dozens of ponies working in the offices on either side.

The most cosmopolitan city in Equestria had little need for guards, most of the business being transacted dealt with permits and trade regulations, not crime.

In the magical land of Equestria crime was in its infancy, while law enforcement's parents were still fumbling towards second base. In contrast, bureaucracy had its PhD in Pain In My Rump Studies, a nice fat research grant dedicated to making my life difficult and a highly motivated staff of thousands.

My destination was the open double door at the end of the corridor. The office belonged to Captain Ironhoof, named for his unique method of locomotion. That stalwart old war-pony was magically bound to a specially constructed steel leg, since being savaged by a rampaging hydra many years before. Despite the loss of his right front leg above the knee, the Captain, in his heart, was still a pony of action. His enforced semi-retirement to the post of Head of the City Guard detachment made him irksome and brusque on the best of days. Any summons to the Captain's office was to be punctually obeyed, if that pony did not want to feel the jagged edge of the old soldier's tongue. I was no exception, despite being the only Detective and the only zebra on the force.

I coughed quietly at the door to announce myself and was rewarded with a curt nod to enter. “Good morning Neigh-quee-mee.” He butchered my name horribly; even so it was better than what the rest of the force, and most of the ponies in the city, called me behind my back and often to my face. “We have a problem that calls for your- special talents, in Canterlot. The youngsters are using some kind of intoxicating potion or drug that we have never seen before, they call it ‘Spur’ on the streets and it's really getting out of hoof up there.”

I stamped the floor in agitation at this news. “I've heard of it, but we haven't seen it here, yet. Nopony seems to know where it comes from or where it's made.” Equestria had very little in the way of a criminal element, so keeping tabs on developments was blessedly straightforward. Seriously, there was even a trade magazine, published semi-monthly by Equestria Daily, under a discrete masthead that bore no mention of the Old Grey Mare.

Rustlers and Reprobates was less well known than Pony of Fortune, and had a much smaller circulation than PlayPegasus (and fewer wingboners), but was invaluable to my job. That month's cover story was a poorly veiled exercise in journalism as advertisement, or perhaps the other way around. The magazine dedicated five pages to the rise of Spur as the drug of choice for Canterlot's young unicorn elite. It detailed how to use the drug, without revealing much more about it.

The Captain fixed me with a stare which brooked no questions. “That's why we, (and by we, I mean the Highest Authority) are sending you to investigate. Her Highness, Princess Luna asked for you specifically to be assigned to this case. It seems she heard how you resolved the Cloppingham murders, and thinks you are the po- sorry, zebra for the job.”

Cloppingham: that was a bit of ugly business I would rather have forgotten. A mad cult of Nightmare Moon worshipers, who believed that grisly pony sacrifices could return Princess Luna to her former dark personality. Their insane plan seemed to be intended to bring about night eternal. Three innocent fillies were horribly slaughtered before I tracked down the cultists. I am not proud of what I did to end their terror spree, but neither do I regret it. Justice must be swift and unswerving at times, even in this gentle land.

The Captain must have seen the look in my eyes, because he pushed on quickly with his orders, not giving me time to ponder that dark day not so very long ago. “You need to pack your gear and head out immediately, Her Highness wants this off her hooves as soon as possible, Celestia be with you.”

I know a dismissal when I hear one, and I beat hooves out and down the stairs. I passed offices, where clerks could be heard whispering the familiar refrain.

“Hey is that...?”

“Don't say it, he'll hear you, he's got ears like a bat!”

“I heard he's one bad mother-”

“Shut your mouth!”

“I'm just talkin' about-”

I'd heard it all before, just as I knew they were all straining to get a look at my cutie marks under the traveling cloak I always wore to hide them. Once in the streets I felt a little less obvious. Zebras are rare, even in Manehattan but outside headquarters and with my hood up, I at least had the illusion of anonymity.

Once in my apartment, I began filling my saddle bags quickly. I rented a small first floor studio, whose only real advantage was that its back wall was a bank of large windows, opening onto a patio and garden, which lead directly into Central Pasture.

Manehattanites simply called it the Park: a swath of rolling parkland, with ponds, light forests and even a fair sized lake. For reasons I could not understand, apartments overlooking the park were ridiculously costly, but any that let directly onto its cool, moist grass could be had for a song. Sure, it was not uncommon to wake after a long night-shift, to find the faces of fillies and colts pressed against my windows, as though I were a display at the menagerie, but zebras have a different idea of what privacy entails and the thought of living in a high, enclosed box above the city did not appeal to my savanna-bred sensibilities.

It did not take long to pack my traveling bags: my waterproof rain-cloak of tightly woven wool, a few bags of oats, barley, corn and dried fruits, spare horseshoes and my shoeing kit. On a whim I loaded up my carved ebony Justicar's mask and staff scale. The latter was a leg length rod, carved with traditional totems and images, topped with a functional balance scale for settling trade disputes. Every zebra Justicar carried one, as the badge and sign-board of the trade. Finally with a twinge of memory, my baobab wood hoof-clubs, made from the knobbed and iron-hard roots of that slow growing tree from my distant home. Even though I knew I had cleaned them thoroughly, it still seemed as though I could feel the greasy taint from their last use. They seemed to grow heavier every time I picked them up. Since I was already wearing my traveling cloak of dust colored linen it was time to be off. The law givers of my land always traveled light.

My road led south through Hoofington, past Fillydelphia just visible in the east. Turning west, I cantered into the heartland of Equestria. A trip of three, or maybe four days trot in fair weather, if nothing arose on the road. But then Equestria always had fair weather, and seldom did unpleasantness ever intrude on her tranquil highways and byways.

To most zebra Lawgivers, this country would be a nightmare of boredom and ease. I had seen enough horror, violence and crime on my long journey to this peaceful land's borders to last me a lifetime and well beyond. Spending my time settling disputes between shopkeepers and their customers made up the bulk of my duties in Manehattan, and that was just fine for me.

The farther I trotted from The City That Only Occasionally Sleeps, the more stares I gathered while passing through tranquil hamlets and farming villages. Most travelers did not wear any clothing at all on the road, so my cloak was cause for some comment. Without it though, fillies and colts would stare gape mouthed at my black and white striped coat and spiky mane. Their elders, however would be disturbed by the scars of my initiation ritual, oblong ridges of scar tissue running in horizontal stripes across my neck.

To any zebra, this ritual scarification was as telling of my trade as the mask and staff protruding from my saddlebags. Of course, to Equestrians, they simply looked wild and savage, but my collar bearing the badge of Celestia's Royal Guard at my throatlatch eased their fears without fail. No folk I had ever seen trusted their ruler with the unquestioned faith of these ponies. It pleased me to serve a monarch so guileless and honorable, that even the idea of doubting her guards was as foreign as- well, as foreign as I myself was.

Passing farther into the interior, houses, farms and villages became scarce. Habitation giving way to green rolling fields, and clusters of forest. It was good country, green and cool, crossed by smooth, level roads. Equestria's rivers were spanned by majestic bridges of stone, while small streams could be crossed on charming wooden covered bridges. In the distance stood isolated farms and orchards. Uncrowded villages without protective walls appeared at the end of each days travel. These tranquil hamlets were welcoming and open to all ponies. I too would be welcome, were I to doff my cloak and show my badge of office. I however, preferred to sleep under the stars. I took pleasure even in the carefully scheduled rainstorms, which the weather pegasi marched in orderly lines across the countryside to water the farms.

After two days of quick trotting, Canterlot could be seen in the distance, high on its mountain. I despised mountains, so steep and high, always cold and breezy. Like most of my kin, my distaste for heights was ingrained. A youth spent on rolling grasslands, under the warm tropical sun, made the idea of mountains seem slightly unnatural. We have them in zebra lands of course, and some zebra folk live among them, just not me or my kin. In turn, those mountain bred zebras I had met on my travels seemed to be as uncomfortable in my wide open plains as I was in their mountain fastness.

Not far from the feet of the mountain stood a small town, which my map labeled Ponyville- creative name choice. It would make a good stop to resupply, and buy some extra blankets before making the last push to Canterlot in the morning.

A pegasus-pulled chariot could have gotten me to Canterlot in three hours, instead of four days by hoof. Royal orders or not, nothing was going to get my sweet flanks in one of those flying death traps!

Two hour's easy trot down hill brought me to the outskirts of town, It was quaintly charming but something was off about this place. I could not escape the feeling of- I had no idea what the feeling was.

Ponies of all ages strolled the streets, or gathered in clusters to talk and gossip. Fillies and colts gamboled in the park just off the town square, flying their kites and playing tag with shrill cries of joy. House painters were painting, bakers were baking and carpenters were- carping? Equestrian seemed quite a silly language at times.

Yet this strange feeling was almost oppressive, something was deeply wrong here. Pulling my hood closer, I made my way deeper into town. Then it hit me, nopony was staring at me! Not at my striped legs with their bronze, brass and gold rings, nor at my subtly patterned Zebra cloak. I had not felt this in so long, not since my Justicar's mark appeared on my haunches when I was just a colt. Even in zebra lands the sight of a Lawgiver was cause for comment by honest folk, and fear for wrongdoers. Suddenly, the sensation ended, replaced by a feeling I was quite familiar with. The tingling down my mane told me I was being watched- no, stalked by something.

My ears pivoted and nostrils flared, but the town was too full of scents and sounds to pick out my stalker. Still, the feeling persisted, growing ever stronger as I walked towards the square. Without warning, instinct took over and I spun, whipping off my cloak. An unknown assailant flew from a nearby shrub, leaping at my back! Whirling my cloak, I quickly entangled and bound my would be assassin. Rearing with a whinny of rage, I moved to stomp and trample my bundled attacker with an iron shod hoof, and halted just in time. Poking from my cloak were the blank flanks of a tiny yellow filly! Muffled deep within the folds, a sweet twangy voice called out; “Goooolee' Zecora, you never pulled that move a-fore! Y'all wanna' let me out now? its kinda' stuffy in here!” she yelled. Now everypony was looking at me, looking on in horror!

Few introductions to a new town are as unwelcome as nearly pounding a local filly to a pulp in the village square. Stallions and mares from every corner and shop stopped, and stampeded towards me with wild eyes to defend the little filly still squirming her way out of my cloak. “Gee Zecora, you smell funny today- Zecora?” A large red bow and the yellow head of a tiny pony finally wriggled out. “Yer' not Zecora!” she yelped, frightened now, she began to cry piteously. Her weeping made the ring of angry stamping ponies surrounding me even less welcoming than before; which is to say they went from hostile to murderous!

“Calm down pony-folk, your filly was playing a joke! Your child is still unhurt, don't look at me like I'm the jerk!” I facehooved, slipping into my native rhyming pattern was not a good way to defuse this. Ponies found those rhyming couplets confusing at best and they were certainly not at their best just now.

From above, a pastel yellow and pink streak swooped down to stand over the still struggling filly, fixing me with a glare more fearsome than any I had ever encountered. The voice from behind that stare was smooth and sweet, like a silken cloth, wrapped around a flint edged knife of raw protective fury. “Stay away from Apple Bloom! Stay back or I’ll... I'll... I'll do something and you won't like it mister! Just what do you think you’re doing? Scaring my friends is unacceptable behavior, a full grown zebra should know better!”

As disconcerting as that stare was to me, it had a chilling effect on the ponies surrounding our tableau as well, like an unscheduled rainstorm at a picnic. The stamping hooves stopped and the herd began to disperse a little.

“I did not mean to hurt your filly, but sneaking up gave me the willies! My actions were not in anger, but she should not leap upon a stranger! By Celestia's sun-marked hiney, why is my speech still so rhymey!?”

“Ohhh! You’re good Mr. Zebra!” I heard from behind, turning slightly I saw an earth pony so pink, so flamboyant, so utterly without a shred of seriousness, even the lambent glare of the yellow pegasus could not cast a pall over her. She seemed to vibrate and bounce, even when standing still. Behind her stood four more young mares: another earth pony, two unicorns and a pegasus. Their presence finished defusing the angry mob surrounding me, as though these young mares were a detachment of Celestia's guard, come to resolve the issue.

From her position behind the firm planted hooves and flared wings of the glaring pegasus, my 'attacker' was telling the phalanx of young mares her story. “I thought he was Zecora. We were playing Cutie Mark Crusaders Ninja Warriors with her- but he's not Zecora! Then everything went black, and I was so scared!” So piteous was her face, even I began to grow angry. Until I remembered who the miscreant in question happened to be... that was awkward.

Now that these six mares were on the scene, the crowd rapidly began to withdraw, apparently satisfied that they were more than a match for any trouble a lone zebra could unleash. I was still under the pegasus' baleful stare, so I could not question the truth of it.

“Apple Bloom, Sweety Belle, Scootaloo, y'all stay back behind Fluttershy now, let the big ponies handle this.” drawled the orange earth pony with apple cutie marks. Indeed there were now three fillies peeking from under that feathered bulwark.
“Ah' am a big pony!” the yellow filly protested feebly, still sniffling and wiping at her puffy eyes with the back of a hoof.

“Citizens of Ponyville, I come in peace, and mean no ill. My journey has been very long, and I regret nearly doing wrong.” even after years in this country my speech was still unreliable under stress.

“Rhyme some more, rhyme some more!” the prancing pink pony chanted with indefatigable joy. She seemed even more enthusiastic than before, if that could be possible.

“The pink one sees I mean no harm, I came here to buy something warm. Young fillies will play their silly pranks, let us end this trouble and you’ll have my thanks.” mastering my compulsion for verse, I managed to spit out my next statement without rhymes. “ I am Nquem'eah, Detective Constable of Celestia's royal guard, on detachment to Princess Luna, my mission in Canterlot must not be delayed.”

The ponies seemed puzzled by my words, despite my lack of rhyming couplets.
“Detective?” asked the yellow earth pony.
“Constable?” puzzled the white unicorn mare.
“Nee qweeemee?” My exuberant pink pony queried. I was beginning to like her, Celestia buck me if I could understand why.

“I investigate unusual occurrences and enforce the law when it has been violated; my badge of office is- tangled up in my cloak on the ground there.” this was not my day, and the looks in the eyes of most of these mares seemed to hold little promise of an improvement in my lot.

“But what's an een qween mee?” pressed the pony whose mane looked like a mass of cotton candy. Ponies were lovely and cheerful creatures, though they possessed a few cultural blind spots. Their difficulty with the native, rhyming cadence of zebra speech was one. Even more challenging, was their inability to relate to names without a direct and obvious description, or tangible relation to the bearer. Oh, and cutie marks, their damnable cutie mark fixation!

“Nquem'eah, that is my name.” I received blank looks from all around. I knew where this was going and I was not a fan. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, I had little choice. 'When in Roan, do as the Roanans do' was the old saying. “Ok, you can call me Ebony Shaft.” I said, with a long suffering sigh. This was familiar territory after so long in Equestria.

“Ahhh! Ebony Shaft, that makes sense!” they said in near unison. I had been through this many times before, and knew what was coming next. The mares were already staring at the Justicar's marks on my haunches. I wished I had time to replace my concealing cloak, but one cannot un-ring a bell.

With long experience, I could even tell which one would say what I knew was coming next. It would be the blue pegasus with the rainbow mane, she looked to be the type. I watched her draw a breath to speak and cringed.

Her voice was pleasantly rough and husky, her stare was open and frank. This was not going to be subtle. “Ebony Shaft huh? Is that why your cutie marks look like colt parts? So what does that mean about your special talent?” as she spoke, her wings raised behind her, displaying their full plumage impressively.

The two unicorns, and the yellow pegasus blushed and looked away, while the orange earth pony scolded her friend. “Dash! The girls are right here! y'all can't be sayin' stuff like that in front of them! An' fold yer' dang wings!”

The cerulean pegasus waved her off dismissively, while blushing fiercely. “Yeah, yeah, you were thinking it too! I just asked first!” it seemed as though she had to struggle to lower her wings back to her sides.

“I wasn’t thinking it... but I am now!” the irrepressible pink one chimed in. “Why do you have the very stallioniest of stalliony parts as cutie marks?” her huge, limpid blue eyes trembled with curiosity and innocent wonder. Despite the cringe-worthy nature of the question, I nearly answered, such was the power of her gaze.

Barely in time, I halted myself. I was NOT going to get pulled into this again! I tossed my cloak over my back and settled my badge in plain view. “I am going to buy supplies now, if you wish to file a complaint with the guard against me, that is your privilege. The markings on my person however, are not open for public debate.” each in turn peered closely at my badge, seeking to find fault with it, perhaps hoping to find a reason to doubt its validity.

The purple unicorn snorted in frustration, finally deigning to speak, “That badge looks legitimate. But you can rest assured that if it turns out to be anything but the real thing-”.

The earthpony in the battered cowcolt hat pushed to the front, interrupting her friend while glaring at me angrily. “Badge or no badge pardner', ain't no excuse fer' buckin' little fillies, specially' my sister. We have a nice peaceful town here abouts an' ah, don't cotton to you, not one bit.” she pressed forward, violating my personal space uncomfortably. “Ah'm gonna' keep my eye on you, and if you make any trouble ah'm gonna buck you between yer' cutie marks until they start callin' you Ebony Gelding, you hear me?” having said her piece, she withdrew to the edge of the crowd and continued to shoot me withering glares; while stretching out her bucking muscles.

Just under an hour later, I was on my way out of town. Though I was still under the watchful gaze of everypony around, particularly that of the apple marked earth pony. I would be avoiding this town from now on I decided.

Darkness fell as I climbed the mountain, forcing me to make camp in a small meadow just off the road. It was a pleasant little glade, with a splendid view of the countryside and the night sky. I made no fire, satisfying my hunger with cold rations from my saddlebags, before slipping into restive slumber. Once again I dreamed of Cloppingham, of the faces of the missing fillies. Three had returned to their homes, traumatized and emotionally scarred, but otherwise unharmed.

My dream was of the three for whom no help came in time. The flickering ring of torches, feminine screams ripping through the night as I ran down the narrow forest trail. A trail which, in my dreams at least, grew ever longer as I ran.

I saw again the clearing, with its crude stone altar and three bodies, their hearts cut cruelly from their chests. Ten wild eyed cultists, and the mad priest with his obsidian knife, still gleaming wetly as he approached the helpless unicorn filly bound to the stone. Worst of all was the song of blood-lust and rage I sang, as I stomped, bucked, bit, and clubbed my way through the cultists.

Finally, the stark terror in the three remaining victims, their horror shared equally between the remains of their tormentors, and the gore spattered and ghoulish nightmare I had become that night. As always, I awoke from that dream with a pounding ache in my head and a weight on my heart. Gazing at the moon, still high overhead I knew I would not be sleeping more that night. Worse still was the knowledge that the robed and cowled priest had vanished into the darkness that night, and remained at large and unidentified.

After spending a chilly and restless night on the shoulders of the mountain, I trotted through the gates of Canterlot a few hours after dawn on the fourth day since departing Manehattan. I was ushered directly into a small sitting room to await Princess Luna's summons. I had expected to at least be shown to my quarters to unpack and dust off first, but if the Princess wanted to see me in my travel-stained state who was I to question?

Her Highness, Princess Luna of Equestria, Ruler of the Night and Monarch of the Moon, bustled in with a short stack of scrolls levitating behind her. She looked me up and down appraisingly and seemed satisfied. I was glad now that I had kept my cloak on, despite the castle butler's insistent requests to take it. If the Princess asked about my marks I would have a harder time dodging the question than with those pesky young mares in Ponyville.

What a Princess she was! Her deep midnight blue coat was glossy and smooth. Her mane of almost blue black was draped smoothly across her shoulders. Even more impressively, her regal rump featured a crescent moon on a field of deepest blue, spangled with a galaxy of winking eldritch stars. In contrast, while her mane and tail were shadowy and dark, her keen intellect burned brightly behind eyes as deep as the eternal night itself. Her smile was cool and refreshing, like a breeze at nightfall after a warm day. My people had no royal class, but if we did, I would hope for a Princess like this.

Settling herself on a cushion of deepest blue and glimmering silver damask with a sigh, Her Highness offered me a plate of elegant cookies and tidbits which I declined as politely as I could. My last experiment with the cuisine favored by Equestria's elite had resulted in an embarrassing display of digestive dysfunction. Just one spicy prune croquette with fig compote was clearly sufficient to bring a grown zebra to his knees.

Niceties satisfied, she wasted little time getting down to business. “It's well past my bedtime Constable, so I am going to keep this brief. These scrolls detail all we currently know about Spur and its distribution, and there is not much. All we know for certain is that there are four young ponies in comas at the university hospital from using the stuff, and one mare dead from overdose. This drug seems to be of magical origin, and is growing in popularity at the university, especially with the more... privileged students on campus.”

The Princess of the night took a more diplomatic tone, while absently toying with an elegant lapis lazuli and rosewood abacus set in a place of honor on the low table serving as her desk. “I know you work alone as a rule, but I thought it would be helpful to have a small team of young ponies, who might move more freely among the students and cause less comment, than yourself. My sister and I trust them implicitly, and I believe they will be of great help to you. As an added benefit, giving them some insight into your particular talents may be helpful to Equestria in the future. You will find the six of them in a small town at the foot of the mountain.”

A groan escaped my lips “Your Majesty is too generous by far, but I typically prefer to operate alone. If you will indulge my curiosity however, please let me guess, in Ponyville: two earth ponies, two unicorns and a pair of pegasi.”

She looked surprised, “Exactly, how did you know?” my mirthless smile seemed to take her slightly aback.

“Just my luck, your Highness. Is this an order, working with the ponies I mean?” I asked, hoping for a way out.

“Do I have to make it an order, Constable?” she fixed me with one cool, piercing eye, while the abacus accelerated its quiet clicking.

“As you wish Highness, I will do my best to serve you and Equestria.” this case was rapidly spiraling out of control, and I had yet to even lay a hoof on the files.

Princess Luna slid one more scroll into the stack with a small smile that warmed my heart. “Here is a brief dossier on the ponies in question. I believe you will need an edge when you meet them, they can be a hoof full at times. I am certain you will find them gathered at the Ponyville library when you arrive, good luck Constable.” once more she graced me with her smile, it was like pouring moonlight into a forest glade during a warm summer night. “Rest assured that you will have my full support and confidence during this investigation, without regard for where it leads. Celestia will be keeping strictly hooves off however. In Canterlot, politics and money connect everything, my special situation makes me apolitical and free from, we shall call them, entanglements.”

As she rose to leave she turned once more to smile at me; I could never tire of that. “Quarters have been arranged at the university for yourself and your new staff, you will be under cover as a visiting scholar, the dossiers will detail their individual cover stories. I also suggest that you take at least a day or two to get to know your team and train them in your methods, good luck Nquem'eah.” she spoke my name with perfect intonation, accent and cadence. What a princess indeed! She departed, leaving the scrolls on the table for me, but carrying away the abacus in the violet glimmer of her telekinetic field.

Most ponies would have felt slighted at the lack of formal introductions, small talk and the exchange of names. I guessed she had done her homework and knew how awkward I felt in that very situation. Her Highness had breezed past that awkward exchange with class and elegance. She never even tried to get a look at my marks, something ponies seemed obsessed with as a rule.

Cutie marks, their own, others, mine, it was a topic for which all ponies seemed to have an insatiable appetite. If only mine weren’t- but there was nothing to be done for them, the hoof of fate can never be turned away, no matter how much one wishes for it.

Ch 2

It was quiet that morning, even by Ponyville library standards. Spike was in the kitchen making a late breakfast while slowly savoring a shard of amethyst with obvious pleasure. Whether because it was a particularly tasty stone, or that it was a gift from Rarity, Twilight could not say. She was deeply engrossed in a twelve volume set of: Zebran Myth, Culture and Legend, by Hoofestian the Elder, Greatest Historian of the Classical Pony Age. That was how the author signed the manuscript, on every page. Must be a distant ancestor of the Great and Powerful Trixie, she mused silently.

Her reverie was disrupted by a thunderous release of gas from the kitchen. That could only mean one of two things, either Spike was eating Pinkie Pie's baked bads with hot sauce again, or- “Is that a letter from the Princess?” She asked, while readying the gas mask spell she had created after Spike's last bout of flatus. The whole tree had been uninhabitable for days after. Since then however, the library had no more troubles with termites, silverfish or bookworms.

“It's a letter from a Princess. It's from Princess Luna!” Spike said in awe as he walked into the reading room, holding the scroll with reverence and wonder writ plain across his scaly features.

“Well don't just stand there, open it!” Twilight's anticipation was almost unendurable. Her tail switched and thrashed in equine impatience and distress, while her ears pinned themselves back against her skull.

Spike just folded his arms smugly, “It's not addressed to you, it's for all the Elements of Harmony, and me too! Princess Luna knows my name!”
The star struck dragonling hugged the scroll in wonder, seeing his name above the red wax of a royal seal was a novelty that would not wear off soon.

Twilight stamped her hoof in impatience, “come on Spike, let's get the gang together and read it! I'll get Rarity, you tell Pinkie, and then have Dash fly out to Sweet Apple Acres and Fluttershy's cottage.”
Little could frustrate this scholar more thoroughly or quickly than a text which she was unable to read immediately.

“Aww, I can tell Rarity...” Spike began. Twilight smiled tolerantly at the dragon whose crush on Rarity was the worst kept secret in Ponyville.

“I think Pinkie is making cookies, you should bring a few for everypony to snack on while we read this letter. Madelines are Rarity's favorite in the whole world-”

…...............................

The bell over the door at Sugarcube Corner tinkled for the first time that day. All over Ponyville it was quiet, even ponies who typically were early risers had yet to set a hoof out of bed. Except Pinkie Pie of course, sleeping late was for her, quite unlikely.

“Hiya Spike! You are sure up early, everypony is exhausted because of that new zebra in the square yesterday, and even the ponies who weren’t there are pooped just from hearing the story about how he nearly stomped Apple Bloom and now the whole town is sleeping late, but somepony has to bake the goodies and that pony is me! How could ponies sleep all day anyway? There was a new zebra in town and that means that a welcome party needed to happen right away, sure he left before I could get it together, but that just means it has to be ready for when he comes back to town. Maybe I should set up a tactical party reserve with quick deployment streamers and rapid fire cupcake launchers, maybe a party pony dynamic entry protocol, I need the blueprints to every house in town, lots of rope and some flash bang party poppers...”

The breathless pink pony was busily sketching a complex diagram in the flour scattered on the floor under her worktable. “...ohh yeah and a new-pony detection and early warning network too, this can't happen again. no siree!”

“Pinkie. Pinkie! PINKIE!” Spike finally yelled, his draconic temper causing a brief gout of green flame to immolate a plate of cupcakes resting nearby.

….................................................................

Miles away, in the castle overlooking her beautiful, sun-drenched and happy domain, Princess Celestia of Equestria, Sovereign of the Solar Cycle, Potentate of Ponies and Ruler of all She Surveyed, was deluged with frosted confections during a meeting with her minister of finance. “Would you care for a snack Minister PonyBucks?” she asked, with the kind of aplomb and dignity which can only be cultivated over many centuries of unquestioned rule.

….....................................................................

“Oh! Hiya Spike, what-cha need? I'm kinda busy, but there’s always time for friends! Oh! I know, you came to help me plan the Ponyville new-pony emergency party response system right? You're good! I only just thought it up, and here you are!”

“Pinkie, Twilight needs you.” there was an almost audible screech as her mind shifted gears. “Twilight needs you to get on your contraption and fly up to tell Rainbow Dash that we need her, Applejack and Fluttershy, at the library in a half hour, that includes you too Pinkie, got it?”

“Ooo, are we getting the band back together? Sweet! I've been working on some solo projects, but nothing I can't put on hold, Gummy has some lyrics and melodies he thinks might work, if we are gunna' cut a new album. I know, I know, his stuff is a little out there, but if you give him a chance and find a producer that’s not afraid of 'gators...”

“No Pinkie, no band, there never was a band, you dreamed it last week remember? I also need some cookies, madelines, lots of madelines!” The lovestruck dragonling sighed wistfully, as he lost himself in dreams of a certain alabaster unicorn.

“Sure Spike, those are Rarity's favorites you know.”

“I know.” Spike sighed in breathless abandon. Moments later, the stillness of the clouds over Ponyville was shattered by a rhythmic chopping sound, as the sugar fueled legs of Pinkie Pie frantically pumped her candy striped flying machine into the sky.

…..............................

High over the peaceful Ponyville morning, a singular cloud formation drifted lazily to and fro. At first glance it seemed to be an elaborate villa, formed of cottony cloud-stuff. Complete with a rainbow waterfall, cascading in a series of drops to finally arch gracefully off into the distance. At second and third glance the impression solidified into an improbable but clear reality; it was a house in the clouds, made of clouds. Equally unlikely was the visitor rapidly approaching from below.

“Wakie wakie Dasharino!” Pinkie Pie shouted, as she hovered near the front door. Experience had shown her the uselessness of trying to knock on a door made of water vapor and pegasus magic, to earth pony hooves it was simply a cloud. “Come on Dash, birds are singing, the sun is up and Twilight needs us all at the library ASAP... ooo! Library, tree, A sap... I made a funny! Ok, not really, but hey, its a work in progress...”

Inside, a sky blue head with a messy rainbow mane popped up from a particularly fluffy mass of cumulus. With an exasperated look, she hoofed her nose and blew mightily, causing a puffy wad of cottony vapor to poof from each ear. “Pinkie? Is that you? Whatchawant?” Shortly thereafter, a rainbow contrail shot off to gather her far flung friends, while the party pony puffed and pedaled back to land.

The collected friends waited in breathless anticipation as Spike, now perched high on a makeshift stage of stacked books, eyed his audience. Producing the still sealed scroll, with a show-dragon like flourish he paused. “Umm, Twilight, are you sure I can't get you to conjure a quick mustache? I really feel like the event calls for the old number twenty five.”

“Spike!” the gathered ponies shouted in chorus.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” With a flick of his claw the opened the seal, dramatically unrolled the document, and read.

…...........................................

Secret, eyes only, unauthorized dissemination punishable by: imprisonment, banishment, or Imprisonment in the place where we banish you.

From: Luna, Princess, Canterlot Castle Office of Internal Security

To: Harmony, the Elements of;

Applejack, Sweet Apple Acres

Fluttershy, Everfree Forest, adjacent

Pinkamina Diane Pie, Sugarcube Corners, Ponyville

Rainbow Dash, Ponyville, upper atmosphere

Rarity, Carousel Boutique, Ponyville

Twilight Sparkle and Spike, Ponyville Library

Cc: Celestia, Princess,

Luna, Princess,

Ironhoof, Captain, Manehattan Royal Guard

Re: Ongoing Investigation codename: CUTIEMUFFIN (I need to fire the pony in charge of creating code names)

Subject: request full assistance and cooperation with detective constable Nquem'eah (Ebony Shaft)

Effective immediately, the above named ponies and dragonling shall consider themselves recruited into the Equestrian Royal Guard, Investigative and Enforcement Branch. Said ponies and dragonling shall be given effective rank and privileges of Constable, under direct supervision and command of Detective Constable Ebony Shaft. All further communication and briefing will follow chain of command.

........................................................

As he read the last line, seven small bronze and silver stars appeared from the scroll in a puff of purple smoke, and tumbled to the floor at Spike's feet. Meanwhile, the scroll evaporated into nothingness, with a magical whisper of “Seeeecret!”

“Wow! Princess Luna's writing style is a little cold, but what a finish!” Spike marveled, as he gathered the badges and distributed them.

“I still don't get it.” Pinkie said, visibly confused. “What's a neigh que mane, some kind of zebra cupcake? Cause that might be good!” Twilight facehooved and tried to explain,
“Its a name Pinkie, a zebra name, like Zecora's-”

“Um yeah, I've been meaning to ask her about that, what the hay is a Zecora? I don't get it.” even Twilight's will failed in the face of Pinkie's inability to comprehend the concept of an abstract name, unrelated to any descriptive or tangible object.

“Moving on Pinkie.” Twilight took her badge from the tiny dragon and addressed the assembled friends. “It seems we will be working with that zebra from yesterday, on some kind of investigation. Princess Luna must trust him, but I think we should watch ourselves around him. Something feels off about that colt to me.” She looked directly at Rainbow Dash. “We need to be PROFESSIONAL, at all times with him, until we know more. Strictly professional, Dash.”

The stunt flier looked aggrieved. “Is it about the cutie mark question? Cause the Crusaders were there, so it was gonna come up, I just asked first. Besides, AJ was thinking it too- mpph!”

From across the room, a lasso snaked out and snapped around the aviatrix's muzzle. “Was not ya' feathered polecat! Ah never even look't at that stallion's rump, well not fer' long anyway!” She stamped the ground in frustration, while Dash squirmed free of the rope. “Ah' know how Apple Bloom and the Crusaders can be, but tarnation! What kinda pony could come that close tah' stompin' a tiny little filly like that? Ah' just cain't trust him.”

Twilight nuzzled her orange friend comfortingly. “I know how you feel AJ, and so we are going to do what we always do when confronted by a mystery.”

“Run and hide?” queried Fluttershy.

“Get to work?” asked Applejack.

“Party!” Pinkie insisted.

“Kick some rump!” added Rainbow Dash.

“Design some uniforms to go with these lovely badges!” Rarity cooed.

“Get a snack and watch Rarity design the uniforms?” Spike piped up.

“No, yes, maybe, no, if you want to, and no.” said Twilight to each in turn. “Dash, I need you to bring Zecora here, and then keep a lookout, so he won’t surprise us again. Spike, you can have a snack, but we have some research to do. We should all make arrangements in case this requires us to be out of town.” A multicolored stampede flowed out the door of the library, and into the streets of a still sleepy Ponyville, then separated into five different directions.

….................................................

I could see Ponyville in the distance from the castle gates. Just a few brief hours trot away, slightly longer if I loitered at the tourist overlooks on the way down. Soon I would have to face those ponies again, and endure the inevitable cutie mark interrogation which the sight of my striped backside always engendered. Curse cutie marks, and curse the ponies’ infatuation with them to a thousand flaming devils!

…...............................................

At the base of the mountain far away, in the comfortable and quiet dimness of the library tree, a pink form tumbled through the door in a wild spasm. “Ooo! Twitacha twitch! Nostril noogie, lumpy rumpy and a touch of vacillating vagi-”

Twilight interrupted just in time. “Whoa there, just tell me what your Pinkie senses are saying, I don't need to hear about the more- intimate twitches.”

The party pony grew quite somber, and continued. “ I feel a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of Cutie Mark Crusaders suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced! Somepony somewhere is questioning their cutie mark! More than that, somepony is regretting their cutie mark something awful, and I think its Mr. Shaft!”

Zecora stepped from behind a bookshelf and smiled at her irrepressible pink friend. “For generations unknown and time out of mind, stripes alone marked a zebra's behind. In our native lands where zebras come from, most cutie marks are butt pictures on bums. My pun was intentional and slightly crude, please forgive, if you found it rude!”

“Oooo! Zecora! That new zebra that came to town, is he a friend of yours? Is he your special friend? Does his cutie mark mean what me and Dash think it means?”

Twilight slipped between them with another well timed interruption. “Well Zecora, thank you for all your help, I wish you did not have to rush off and do that thing at the place right away, and could stay to answer all Pinkie's very blunt and penetrating questions...”

“Ahh yes, that thing at the place, to whatever it was, I must race! Fare well dear Pinkie Pie, I will see you when next I stop by!” With a look of profound relief on her face, the zebra sped off into the late morning sun, her cloak flapping like the wings of a frightened bird.

“So Pinkie, why not go up to the balcony and help Dash keep watch until the other girls show up... you can use my telescope if you like.” Twilight cringed inside with fear for her precious astronomical tool, but weighed against the very real possibility of more questions from the erratic equine, she felt it was the right choice.

“Okie dokie loki” Pinkie bubbled, while hopping up the stairs three at a time.

Forty minutes or so had passed swiftly, in quiet activity for Twilight, when the bustling trio of:Applejack, Fluttershy and Rarity entered. “Right on time girls, you get settled, while I go collect our lookouts.” Twilight called as she trotted up the stairs.

Using a book stand as a podium to hold her notes, Twilight addressed the gathered friends. “Ever since we met Zecora, I have been gathering information on Zebra culture and traditions, just to satisfy my own curiosity. This morning, I met with Zecora to go over what I learned, and have prepared a short presentation. I will take questions at the end.” Two hooves shot into the air instantly, one pink and one light blue.

“After the presentation girls, and non stallion parts questions only.” Both hooves slowly sank back into the crowd.

“First the basics, Spike the projector please.” a blinding light shot from the back of the room, illuminating a bed sheet tacked to a bookcase as a screen. Shortly, a sketch of a small cluster of simple huts, surrounded by a wall of thorny brambles slid into view. “Here we see a typical zebra village, circa four hundred BNM (That’s Before Nightmare Moon girls.), so about one thousand four hundred years ago. Zebras live either in small villages, or semi nomadic family herds, roaming their territory to feed and visit the often scarce water sources. Next slide please Spike.”

Another drawing eased into position on the screen, this time of a zebra standing in a field of tall brown grass. “Thank you Spike, this sketch is also from around four hundred BNM. Zebras, while they are not technically ponies, are closely related to us, they live in tropical regions, typically in open, arid grasslands called savannas. Without pegasus teams to control the weather, or unicorn magic for defense, they are much more at the mercy of the climate and predators endemic to their home than we are here in Equestria. Zebra culture may seem crude and primitive to us, but this is only an illusion, they are quite advanced in their own way. Zebra society is very well attuned to the chaotic natural cycle of their native lands, next slide please.”

“Wait just a minute there sugarcube, ah' hate ta' interrupt, but wheres that zebra's cutie mark?” Twilight smiled at her rustic friend.

“Nice catch AJ, all my books on zebra culture are from the tales of traveling ponies, recorded before Nightmare Moon. Before then, zebras had no cutie marks.” A collective gasp filled the room, making the improvised screen flutter as though to display the striped, but otherwise unmarked rump to more dramatic effect.

Twilight went on, “That’s right, no cutie marks. According to Zecora, when the sun went down and didn’t rise a thousand years ago, it threw zebra lands into confusion. When Princess Celestia banished Nightmare Moon, she used the Elements of Harmony, but without the bonds friendship needed to help direct and control the power she unleashed.

The Elements were never meant to be used by a lone pony, even one as powerful as the Princess. As a result, the Princess was denied the control needed to purify Nightmare Moon. She had no choice but to banish her to the moon, in hindsight the magic she used was crude and undirected, though no other pony could have hoped to survive, let alone succeed in wielding such forces alone. As a result, a magical shock wave created by the Elements of Harmony, washed over the entire globe, that was when zebras first received cutie marks.”

Rarity could no longer restrain herself. “So how did they know what their special purpose would be? How did they manage to find their place in the world? All this sounds simply dreadful! Think of the chaos, the uncertainty, the confusion!”

Twilight rapped the podium with a professorial hoof. “Exactly, with no way to know where their talents lay, and no Princesses of their own, zebras were led by the biggest and toughest of their herds and villages. As a result, conflicts arose constantly between tribes, which often resulted in violence. Because of these cultural differences, zebra cutie marks don't work like their pony counterparts. Most zebra marks are more indicative of family or tribal affiliation first, and talents after, much like the apple family's fruit related theme.”

Even Rainbow Dash sat in rapt attention as the lecture unfolded. The insatiable pony hunger for all things cutie mark related overpowering her natural aversion to scholastic endeavors.

“There seem to be two notable exceptions to the magic that created zebra cutie marks. Two classes of zebras, who's marks show no tribal affiliation at all. First there are the Shaman like Zecora, her swirling earth symbol mark indicates her membership in the all female priestly class. They are dedicated, by talent and training, to maintaining the oral histories and religious traditions of zebra culture. They serve as physicians, teachers, and counselors as well.”

Maybe Spike was right, a mustache would make the presentation seem more scholarly and serious. Twilight mused to herself while taking a drink from her massive coffee mug. Perhaps a tweed jacket, with elbow patches of suede.

Rarity felt an involuntary shudder creep up her spine, as though somepony had walked across her grave, somepony, somewhere was contemplating a horrid crime against all known standards of fashion and style. She would need to be alert. Not on my watch...

“Each tribe is only allowed one full fledged Shaman at a time, when a filly develops a mark like Zecora's, she is trained by the current Shaman. If the older priestess is old enough, she will retire. Otherwise, after her final initiation, the younger Shaman must wander off to find a tribe without their own, or whose Shaman wishes to retire. This has fostered inter tribal cooperation and understanding for a thousand years, and is a major reason for the peace that zebras have enjoyed since then.” A soft chorus of “Ooh” whispered through the room.

“What about the other class of zebra?” Came the gentle voice of Fluttershy, her question barely drifting to the front of the room.

“Excellent, the next exception to the tribal pattern is slightly more disturbing in nature, and is the root cause of yesterday's kerfuffle in the square. The zebra from yesterday, Mr. Shaft, when I described him to Zecora, she seemed certain that he is what the zebra call a Justicar, or Lawgiver. Like Shaman, each village or herd has only one at a time, and many spend years wandering, looking for a tribe that needs their services.”

“Just as the Shaman are innately compassionate and introspective, Lawgivers are driven to bring justice and peace, solving disputes between zebras and between tribes, as well as hunting criminals, without mercy. Each one is a zebra judge, jury, and executioner onto himself, and is trained in diplomacy, martial arts and law. Zecora seemed confused when I described his cutie mark, but the distinctive lines of ritual scars on his neck are apparently self inflicted, to remind him of the punishments and judgments he has delivered in his career.”

A pink hoof once more rose into the air. “whats an ex-e-cute-tioner?” Pinkie asked. “Is that a pony who scolds bad ponies for doing bad things, by telling them how not cute they have been?” Dewy eyed optimism and cheer radiated from her, creating a joyful bubble in the center of the room.

Twilight drew a deep breath to steady herself, this was not going to be easy. “No Pinkie, it means if he thinks a pony has been bad enough, he has the power to execute them.” a blank stare was Twilight's reward. “He can kill them Pinkie.”

With an audible hiss Pinkie's bouffant mane deflated into a pale limp mop, as much of her vibrant color drained away. “That's just awful. No, its terrible! That means all those scars on his neck- each one, was a zebra or pony?” Even as she spoke the room seemed to darken and become gloomy, as though the possibility of laughter had vanished from view. “What kind of party would you even throw for that? How would I fit, Sorry You Killed That Pony And Had To Mutilate Your Neck One More Time, on a cake? I bet Madame LeFleur would know, she has such a grasp of etiquette, or maybe Sir Lintalot, he always seems so classy...” As she spoke her pupils dwindled in size and began to drift slowly apart, leaving her with a disturbingly vacant thousand yard stare.

Seeing where this was headed, the aviatrix grabbed the proverbial yoke and sought to pull her friend out of a precipitous nosedive into psychosis. “Pinkie has left the building guys, lets break for some...” Dash paused to prepare herself, and with a breathless whisper, spoke a single word of inestimable power directly into Pinkamina's ear. “Cupcakes.”

The net effect of that single word was comparable to dropping a basket of kittens and a ball of yarn into Fluttershy's lap, or a dusty tome of hundred year old census data before Twilight. With an explosion of color and motion, the Premier Party Pony reasserted herself, producing a vast tower of immaculately frosted cupcakes, from seemingly nowhere at all. “That's funny... where did I even have these?” She asked nopony at all, her mouth stuffed with frosting and cake. With a carefree shrug, she continued passing the treats to, in her words: “My most favoritest ponies in the whole wide ponyverse!”

Ch 3

In far Neighpon, where Celestia's sun rises, they have a saying: Duty is as heavy as a mountain, death is as light as a feather. In my experience, between the former and the latter, one could find my saddlebags. Certainly they were lighter than a mountain. Though it seemed to me, the addition of a single feather would send me to the dusty road in a wretched heap. Perhaps it was the mountain climbing, following a three day trot across Equestria. It may have been the meeting with the co-ruler of the nation; or perhaps the simple weight of dread and anticipation of a return to Ponyville was the source of my burden.

Pausing at the site of my camp the night before, I consumed a meager lunch of roadside grass, a hoof-full of dried oats, corn, barley and a dried apple. The palace staff had packed me a lunch before I left, kind ponies that they were, but I was reluctant to venture into that elaborately wrapped package. One never knows what horrors may dwell within a meal designed around the far more sophisticated palates of the Equestrian elite.

Using small stones as paperweights, I was reading the Princess' scrolls while munching on my provisions, hoping they would take the taste of the local grass from my mouth, hoping in vain as it turned out. I had to say one thing for Ponyville, it was surrounded by lush, sweet smelling, verdant fields. My stomach lurched in protest at what it was forced to endure, with such fare so nearby. When did I become so delicate? Once I could consume the dry, tough, saw edged grasses of my home without complaint. Now I lived in fear of a few dainties and a little tough, sour grass. Equestria leaves its mark on all who walk its fields or dart through its azure skies, this land may well be too accommodating.

The case files were on individual scrolls, and very slim on details: names, dates, locations, witnesses and a few medical details on the comatose ponies. All unicorns it seemed, that fit with what I already suspected about the drug. The file on the fatality was even more slender, no autopsy, no interviews with the family or friends. Somepony was not doing their job. Long ago I learned to trust my instincts, and they were whispering that this was more than it appeared, on more than one level. I had the distinct feeling as I rolled the files back up and stowed them, that this was going to muss some very highly placed manes before it was over.

Shadows were lengthening as I neared my destination. It was such an idyllic town, strange it should fill me with dread. As I approached the library its massive boughs spread welcome shade across my weary frame. I paused at the door and prepared to knock, before I noted the 'Open' sign and that the door was slightly ajar. I girded my loins, metaphorically speaking. I was determined to start this off with professionalism and dignity. These were serious matters at hoof, and judging by the Princess's recommendation, these were serious ponies. Certainly, they were capable of following orders and maintaining discipline. After all, this was Equestria, a land known far and wide for courtesy, civility and good manners.

….....................................

“Come on Twi, I just wanna know if what they say about zebra stallions is true... you know, whether they have... you know.” Her bawdy wink left little doubt as to what she was referencing. “Besides, with a cutie mark like that, on a rump like that, he must be able to...” Here Dash made a very crude thrusting gesture with a fore-hoof. “If you fillies aren't interested in what he's lugging around under there, that's your business, but I wanna' know!” At this point the pegasus flier realized that the whole group was staring at the door behind her. “Oh, horse-apples, how long has he been behind me?”

Well so much for courtesy, civility and manners. I knew that my only chance was to take control of the situation immediately, or risk watching my career and this investigation spiral down the drain. “Five minutes my little ponies, fall in behind the library in five minutes. Get your selves under control, we have a lot to go over.”
Not one rhyme, I was inordinately pleased with myself for that.

…..............................................

Four minutes and thirty seconds later, six ponies tumbled out the back door of the library and arrayed themselves in loose formation on the grassy field. I would only get one chance to assert control over these mares, I needed to make an impression from the start.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Luna of Equestria, Sovereign of the Night, and Ruler of the Lunar Cycle has tasked me with two missions. The first is to resolve an issue of national import in Canterlot, with your assistance. We will discuss that matter later. My other task is to instruct you all in the methods and techniques of civil and criminal investigation. Without this groundwork, you will be of very limited aid to me in our mission. Are we all clear on what I have just covered? Any questions so far?”

Two hooves shot up immediately, one pink and one pale blue. “Non cutie mark related questions only.” The pink hoof sank, only to pop right back up. “Very well, Rainbow Dash, your question please.”

“So what is this case we will be working on? Is it spies? Cause' I could really get into some counter espionage action!” She struck a pose she had no doubt seen on the cover of some spy novel or comic book and looked at me expectantly.

“Miss Dash, the details of the case will be revealed after we establish some basics, please refrain from speculating until then. Miss Pinkie Pie, your question?” I faced the Pink pony with as much confidence as I could muster, something told me to expect the unexpected from this equine.

“So, about your cutie marks Mr. Shaft-” I cut her off before she could derail what little progress I had made so far.
“I specifically requested non cutie mark related questions Miss Pie.”
“Oh, this is not cutie mark related, it's entirely about your cutie mark.”
Some ponies can be stubborn, others are careless, a few are stupid, rare individuals are even capable of cruelty. This pony was clearly none of those, she was simply fixated on the symbol emblazoned on my striped arse.
“Ladies, if it will allow us to proceed, I solemnly promise to reveal all the details of my cutie mark, AFTER we have finished with the issues at hoof.” this seemed to satisfy Pinkie, for now.

Gazing down the ragged line of ponies before me I had no idea where to start; just as long as they did not figure that out I would be fine. “Twilight Sparkle step forward please.” Her stance and expression shifted rapidly between caution and determination as she stepped to the front, but she showed no hesitation, I liked that. “Her Highness, Princess Luna informed me in no uncertain terms that you are quite a clever pony.” She preened slightly at this praise but kept her wits, another good sign. “On her recommendation, you will be my second in command, I was also informed that you have a dragon assistant, where is he?”

A small purple and green reptile snapped smartly to attention before me with a clumsy but enthusiastic salute. “Spike Sir, reporting for duty, Sir!”
“Excellent, Mr Spike, your duties will be relatively unchanged, simply continue what you do for Miss Sparkle. Though if you would be kind enough to assist me with the writing and filing of reports, and forward my reports to the Princess, I would be grateful.” At this the dragon seemed disappointed, almost dejected, spying a copy of Detective Comics: Hard Boiled Stories under his arm, I hurriedly added “At least until we run into some hard-cases that need grilling.” Even a baby dragon's grin was entirely too filled with sharp, carnivorous teeth for my comfort, but he seemed much happier at the prospect of administering the 'third degree' to some hapless villain in the future.

“Now my little ponies, and dragon, raise your right hooves- and paw?” I asked looking at the dragonling.
“Hand Sir, we call them hands Sir!”
“Very well, raise your right hooves and hand. Do you swear to protect the lives, rights and property of every citizen of Equestria, be diligent in the pursuit of justice, and discharge your duties with honor and dignity in the Princesses names?” A ragged chorus of “I Do” and one affirmative squeak from the line of recruits made it official. “You are now Constables in the Equestrian Royal Guard, Enforcement and Investigation Branch, congratulations.”

The few hours until sunset were dedicated to teaching the basics of Equestrian law enforcement: civil rights, probable cause, paperwork, evidence handling and interviewing witnesses. Then we went into: paperwork, interrogation, public safety and of course, paperwork.

“No miss Pie, that is not what assault means. I promise, if we ever encounter anypony committing the criminal act of sprinkling salt on another pony's hind end I will allow you to name the foul deed. Any further questions?” Pinkie Pie, so random and so irresistibly charming.

As the sun sank into the west I dismissed my little ponies for the night, with an admonishment to discuss their new duties with nopony, and instructions to meet at the library an hour after dawn. Once alone, I ambled to the edge of town and made camp in a small copse of trees not far from the road to Canterlot. It was as I had predicted, the grasses near Ponyville were delicious and satisfying.

After a pleasantly dreamless night I awoke to the scent of- coffee? Outside the tent which my rain cloak and Justicar's staff combined to create, sat a small pot of steaming coffee and a plate of warm muffins. Naturally I was curious as to the identity of my benefactor, as well as concerned that somepony could approach so near in my sleep without waking me. Peering about, it took only a moment to identify my stealthy snack supplier. A nearby shrub was clearly wearing a set of novelty nose and mustache glasses. The bold pink tuft of cotton candy tail, vibrating in obvious pleasure at its owner's cleverness was another subtle clue. Celestia singe my nethers, I liked this Pinkie Pie, banish me to the moon if I could understand why though.

“Curses, now I will never know who left these delicious muffins here, and they are even carrot-apple-raisin, my favorite!”
Taking a bite and sipping the coffee, I proclaimed in my strident voice military, “Buck me in my nose if this is not the best breakfast ever.”
From the shrub I detected a faint sqeee of joy. When I glanced up however, the bush had silently vanished without a trace. She was truly a sneaky pony, with a little work on her disguise skills she could be quite helpful.

Back at the library, I called them to order around a small table. Resting in the center was a tiny vial of a glittering blue powder. “This is called Spur on the streets of Canterlot, look but do not touch, it is a dangerous drug and is the reason behind our orders.” Pinkie peered closely and turned to Twilight.
“A drug? Like medicine? Somepony is sick? Is it me? Cause' I don't feel sick-”
“I don't think it's that kind of drug Pinkie, he means that this did not come from a doctor, somepony made it to get ponies high.” Twilight explained patiently. I was feeling better about making her my Lieutenant already.

With the foundation of an explanation firmly laid I attempted to weigh in. “A drug like this is made and sold in secret and can contain dangerous things, some are performance enhancers and some are 'party drugs' for-” I am still not certain exactly what happened as I attempted to explain recreational drugs to Pinkie and the others. I am certain however, that Twilight's frantic hoof waving clued me in to my poor choice of words a little too late.

The events that followed can only be described in the brief flashes of lucidity I managed to snatch from the gaping maw of chaos:
A wide and disturbing grin spread across Pinkie's face, as she slowly slid beneath the table and vanished from sight.
Peering under the table mere seconds later revealed no Pinkie.
Something black and pink moved outside the upper story window on Twilight's stairs.
With a crash, that something, a pony in a black skin tight suit and balaclava burst through the glass on a zip line (How did that zip line lead through the glass anyway?).
What appeared to be a small alligator in a black body stocking and climbing harness lowered from the skylight on a rope, clutching a punch bowl.
A blinding flash accompanied by a pop and whistling sound stole my sight.

As my vision returned, normality remained on holiday indefinitely. The room was
crowded with confused looking ponies of all descriptions. Some that I recognized from the events in the square, others were new to me. Also filling the now crowded room were: pies, muffins, cupcakes, balloons, streamers, party games, a massive zebra striped four tier cake with a marzipan zebra village on top, and a banner proclaiming “WELCOME Nquem'eah” in Equestrian and even more puzzling, in old Zebran cuneiform script.

As the mystified ponies gazed around the room they spotted the party favors, shrugged and began dancing, eating and drinking as though they found themselves mysteriously transported like this on a regular basis. I heard more than one announce “Its a Pinkie Pie Party.” as though that explained everything.

Pinkie herself was dangling from her zip line, still clad in a black catsuit, balaclava and harness, while passing out treats to everypony in range.

….....................................

By mid-morning the party died a natural death, succumbing to the need to actually get on with the business of running a small town. All seven of my new team waded into the wreckage gamely, striving to clear away the remains of the party with no complaints. I remained mystified by the entire process, puzzling over how an entire party had been dropped on us without warning. My queries directed to Twilight on the matter were answered with, “It's a Pinkie Pie thing, don't try and figure it out.”

Suddenly I remembered my sample of Spur and began searching frantically for the tiny vial in the wreckage of what began as a legitimate training session. “Twilight, where is my sample? Do you see it anywhere?”