Alexandrite: Ace Attorney: Turnabout Tidbits

by MaxKodan

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Crossover, Anthology, Crystal Ponies, Slice of Life
Length: 7436

Alexandrite is a Crystal Pony and a Defense Attorney, but not everything is courtrooms and murder.

Alexandrite—Crystal Pony and Defense Attorney—works at Escutcheon, Buckler, and Aegis: the most renowned law firm in Manehattan. While perhaps not the center of attention when it comes to large, earth-shaking, world-changing events, you certainly do get some characters coming through the door.

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Published 2016-05-02 02:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-07-01 06:56:47 UTC

Turnabout Featherbrain

April 19, 2:35 PM

E, B & A Law Offices - Conference Room

Escutcheon Herald placed the covered cage on the conference table and leaned around it to look at me. “He can be a bit nippy, but that just means he wants some attention.”

I hesitated, eyes locked on the white sheet that obscured the contents. “I’m really not sure this is a good idea. Can’t Aegis take it?”

“Aegis isn’t a big fan of birds.”

“...She’s a pegasus.”

“Yes, well,” Escutcheon said with a sigh. “She feels...never mind.”

“Well, alright, what about Buckler?”

“Buckler is...Buckler.”

“Wooooooaaaah,” said Buckler Round, who sat spinning in an office chair nearby. “Fair assessment.”

“And I’m not leaving him with any of the interns. Alex, you’re the only pony for the job.”

It was hard to keep a small tick out of my eye. I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Escutcheon was my boss, and this was about the least I could do to make up for my lackluster performance. Escutcheon had landed some kind of big contract out in Fillydelphia, and he’d be gone for a week. The short notice intrinsic to our court system left his pet parrot, Featherbrain, without a birdsitter. I, apparently, was going to be a birdsitter.

April 19, 7:40 PM

Alexandrite’s Apartment

Barley ogled Featherbrain. My cousin, despite having been raised out in the countryside, was a city pony through and through. Birds were a menace. They were scavengers, and bold ones at that. Pigeons were getting more and more adept at snatching hay fries out of holders in mid-flight. They were not pets.

Featherbrain, at least, didn’t look like your run of the mill flying rat. He had a regal stature to him, yellow breast pushed out proudly, blue wings and back ruffled just so, white face and black beak tilted at the exact angle which conveys a mild disdain for everypony around.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Barley said, a moment of clarity breaking through his fixed daze.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” I said, avoiding eye contact with the both of them lest I get sucked into whatever power struggle they were having. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“Yeah, but Xander—” His voice broke a little as he felt my glare at him, and he laughed nervously, “But, Alex, I dunno. Do you know how to take care of a bird?”

I looked back down at the day’s newspaper and motioned to a side table, upon which sat a checklist. “Everything I need to know. I’ll only need to change the paper twice, but he says that if I change it every day he’ll be appreciative.”

Barley picked up the list and looked it over. “Does this say you have to cook his food?”

I shrugged. “He eats seeds and pellets, but I guess there are recipes he likes for breakfast dinner. The ingredients are in the fridge.”

“Pumpkin and apple served with peanuts…? That actually sounds pretty good. I think this bird eats better than I do.”

“I’m...somewhat tempted to try it myself, actually, yeah.”

“And for dinner, he eats corn, asparagus, and b-”

Oooh, right. I pulled the paper up to hide a wicked smile. Barley cleared his throat.

“And barley. Huh.” He eyed Featherbrain nervously.

“Dinner Time!” crowed Featherbrain, just as my clock struck 8 pm.

Barley yelped in surprise and dropped the checklist, scampering across the room towards the door.

April 20, 11:30 AM

Alexandrite’s Apartment

I had been told not to come in on Saturday so that I could get to know my new roommate. There was something on my checklist for the day that I was really not looking forward to. I eyed the bird through his bars and waited. For what, I didn’t know. He’d eaten his cooked breakfast, and now he was just perched like nothing was bothering him. It was a little annoying.

I was tempted to just leave him to siting there. He looked comfortable enough. But I also imagined a good dozen horrible situations that might come up if he didn’t get his exercise. Since I could only think of 10 horrible situations that might come up if I DID let him out, the cons outweighed the pros. I took a deep breath, reached forward, and unlatched the cage.

Like a blue flash, Featherbrain had nudged the door open and swooped out.

OH CELESTIA HE CAN FLY THEY NEVER MENTIONED HE KNEW HOW TO FLY WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO!!!

At some point during my panic attack, I had worked my way behind the cover of a couch, so I peeked up over the back. Featherbrain was preening his wing on a table. I had expected more of a magic summoning circle to call forth his birdy overlords, so that was a slight relief.

“Ok,” I said, aloud for some reason, “Ok, you’re out, and neither of us is dead. That’s a good start.” Something about the way his head twitched around was unsettling, especially when it lay one beady eye on me, but I classified it under “bird things”. I cautiously rounded the couch.

“Hi there!” Featherbrain said, causing me to freeze in place.

“....Hi,” I said, feeling a bit like an idiot. “I’m Alexandrite.”

“Aaalexandrite!” he said, trying to get a feel for it apparently. I still felt like I’d been added to a list I didn’t want to be on.

“It’s...good to meet you, Featherbrain.” I wondered, for a moment, if invoking his name was the best of ideas. But of course it would be alright. It’s just saying the bird’s name. Still, he didn’t seem to react to me at all.

“Featherbrain?” I asked, inching closer. He was staring at a wall. Had I broken him somehow? I decided to add a bit of affectionate lilt to my voice like I was trying to get the attention of a pet. Because, I realized, I was. “Featherbrain.”

It was probably the third time that did it. Featherbrain spread his wings and flapped wildly for a moment, and I let out an embarrassing squeak and squeezed my eyes shut. The rending of the flesh from my bones was a lot less painful than I thought it would be. In fact, all I felt was a bit of prickly pressure on my back. I slowly turned my head around and cracked an eye, and there was Featherbrain, using me as a perch. I didn’t want to move, in case that sent him into an unparalleled bird rage which I could only assume was a thing that happened, but I dared to reach for the bag of treats on the nearby table.

It was a long, tedious struggle. More than once as I stretched I felt the bird shifting his weight on my back. With a heroic effort and not a little flinching I managed to snatch the bag, set it somewhere more manageable, and fish out one of the tiny balls of nuts and grains. Glancing back and making sure he wasn’t preparing a death ray or whatever parrots do when you’re not watching, I held up the treat. Featherbrain stared at it, and then at me. Then it shuffled a little down my back and ruffled its feathers up.

I glanced down at my hoof and realized it was shaking. It was exactly that moment that I realized that I was being completely stupid. This was a parrot, a bird. A pet. Escutcheon’s pet. I lowered my hoof and heaved a deep sigh. Then I took a breath and let it out again. And then again. Then I reached back again and held the treat up, a bit of a distance away from Featherbrain.

Escutcheon had introduced us before I took him home with me. We knew each other, kind of, so I guessed that between that and my cooking for him, I was at least a little in the good books. Don’t be afraid of him, Escutcheon had said. He can smell fear. At the time, I’d taken that as a joke, or an attempt to unnerve me, or a warning. But now, as Featherbrain looked me up and down again, and then started sidling up my back towards my steadied hoof, I saw it for what it was. Really, really good advice.

April 24, 6:00 PM

Alexandrite’s Apartment

“I’m home!” I closed the door behind me and trotted over to the cage. I heard Featherbrain shifting around inside, and he chirped as I pulled the covers back. “How ya holding up?”

He clicked a few times and stepped closer to the cage door. I smiled and undid the latch, and he nudged his way out and fluttered to his perch and the treat that was waiting on it. “Aegis yelled at me again,” I said, throwing myself on the couch. Featherbrain watched me silently, though he bobbed his head a few times. “I think she just does it out of habit at this point. But it meant I had to wash the inner windows of her office.” I leaned closer to him conspiratorially, and he, in turn, leaned his head down to listen. “They weren’t even dirty, you know.”

“Too bad!” He squawked.

“You said it.” I sat back and sighed. “Actually, Buckler said it, too. Those words exactly. I’m surprised Escutcheon was so set on him not taking care of you. You two would get along famously.”

Featherbrain flew down and settled onto the back of the couch. I turned a raised eyebrow towards him. “Hey, watch the claws,” I said, nudging one of the talons that were poking through the fabric. He relaxed his grip, but stepped towards me, wobbling now that his anchor was less solid. I rolled my eyes with a smile, then I stretched out onto my stomach. I offered a hoof, and Featherbrain stepped onto it, then made his way down to my back. The treat bag was on the table nearby, just within reach, so I snagged one and offered it to him. “You’d make a good massage therapist,” I said as he shifted his weight and moved up to my shoulders.

He nipped the treat out of my hoof and I laid my head down. It was silly that I’d been so afraid of him. Featherbrain was a real sweetheart. Sharp as a tack, too, despite his name. He leaned over and I felt him prod at my ear with his beak.

“Hey, Xander, how’s the—” Barley had pushed my door open and strode in as was his custom. I glanced up and, as I watched, the color drained from his face. Featherbrain seemed to take no notice, as he was busy gently nibbling on my ear.

April 26, 9:15 AM

E, B & A Law Offices - Conference Room

I nudged the cage into a more secure position on the table and turned to Escutcheon.

“So how was he?”

“He was a perfect angel,” I said, not mentioning the several claw scratches on some of my furniture. “I think he enjoyed it too.”

“Good!” Escutcheon approached the cage and slowly pulled back the cover. “Miss me, Feathers?”

“Hi there!” Featherbrain called.

“Hi there!” Escutcheon parrotted, apparently not realizing the irony. He opened the cage door and let the bird step out onto his leg. Featherbrain affectionately nudged Escutcheon’s nose. “Did you have fun?” Featherbrain bobbed his head several times and chirruped. Escutcheon chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Looks like you made a friend there, Lexa.” Buckler was once again spinning slowly in one of the chairs. “Maybe I’ll let you babysit my bird, too.”

“You have a bird?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the contented pair.

“Well,” he said as his rotation brought him back around to face me, “Not yet, but maybe I’ll get one and let you watch him.”

I reached over and gave him an extra hard spin.

“Escutcheon, are you in here? I wanted to talk to you about the…” Aegis Steel had entered the room and trailed off as she stared at the scene. I turned at the sudden silence. The atmosphere in the room had gotten suddenly heavy, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.

Featherbrain cocked his head and looked over at the newcomer to the room. I noticed that Aegis was puffing out her chest. Featherbrain stepped back and forth on Escutcheon’s leg. Aegis, to my immense surprise, flared her wings. Featherbrain puffed up and flapped his own a few times, and Escutcheon had to lean away from him to avoid a whapping. Aegis visibly flinched, of all things, and turned to stomp out of the room.

Buckler’s whisper in my ear nearly made me jump. “She totally gets in power struggles with anything with wings.”

A laugh caught in my throat and I let out a coughing snrk.

“MISS ALEXANDRITE,” I heard from the hallway, “I NOTICE THE CLEANING YOU DID ON MY WINDOWS WAS, AT BEST, SUBPAR.”

I shot a dirty look at Buckler, who grinned apologetically back. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, standing with a sigh. “Goodbye, Featherbrain!”

A sudden pressure on my back made me stop. Featherbrain worked his way up to my shoulders and, gently, nipped at my ear. He really was a sweetheart, this bird. Maybe I’d have to visit him some time…

“Bye bye, Xander”

...And I’d have to train him on a new way to say my name.

Turnabout Undercoat

“Miss Alexandrite.”

Oh Celestia oh no oh no what did I do?

“Come.”

“Yes Ma’am.” I leapt to my hooves and scuttled after Aegis Steel. I couldn’t imagine what I’d done wrong this time. I’d only gotten in a few minutes ago. Aegis was notoriously hard-nosed, though, so as far as I was aware I’d used the wrong side of the double door when entering the offices. She was dead silent as we walked down the hallway. That was another of her habits. It was like the mare was built to make everypony around her uncomfortable. Even the carpeted floor didn’t make any noise as our hooves hit. I shuddered.

After two right turns, we stopped in front of a door and Aegis pushed it open. I peeked inside when she nodded me in; There was an older mare shifting in her seat, a short gray mane combed meticulously back, her chin set with a resolute purpose. She was dressed in an embroidered, decorated, elegant dress with a collar so high I was reminded of Featherbrain informing me that he was in a bad mood. However, her affluence wasn’t given away by her mane or clothes or the earrings or necklace which sparkled with gemstones. The first thing I noticed was her attitude.

She was scrunching her nose at the sparse furniture: three chairs around a round table, a quartet of potted plants in the corners, tastefully subtle white walls, rich brown carpet layering the floor. Her chin was held up as if in mild, respectful contempt of it all. She made it clear just how common everything around her was. Me? I saw walls with no stains; soft, comfortable carpeting; perfect color balance and a table and chair set worth more than every piece of furniture I owned put together and sturdy enough to weather a hurricane.

A prickling on the back of my neck informed me that Aegis had been holding the door for far too long, so I stepped inside and took the chair across from the mare. I was prepared for the speculative inspection I was given. It was almost always the same. Usually disdain for my apparent age, from the older ponies, but always an intense, personal appraisal of my translucence. It was, is, and always will be an incredibly embarassing experience. Fortunately, I was too distracted to notice; I was now fully aware of what was happening.

“This is Ms. Yvette Banks,” Aegis said, sliding one of the other chairs closer to my side of the table and seating herself. “She’s the head teller at the Manehattan Central Bank, and has worked there in that capacity for nearly 30 years.” She looked up from the piece of paper she held and met eyes with Yvette. “This is Alexandrite, a young attorney who will be…” She paused for a mere moment to look at me, “reviewing your case with me.”

I shuddered. I’d been right, this was a client, and when we left the room Aegis would ask me to defend her. I’d been through this song and dance several dozen times, but my track record could be derived from Aegis’s reticence to say I’d be the one defending the client. It never ended well. Never.

On that note, a bank employee? My nervousness grew. Had there been a bank robbery that hadn’t hit the rumor mill yet? Was I really getting a case as high profile that? I was nervous enough dealing with a hayburger theft that had gotten out of hand, how was I going to deal with something so...storybook absurd?

“Hello,” I said without really meaning to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Banks.”

“Likewise,” she lied.

Aegis was not one to overlook the atmosphere in a room, but she also seemed to enjoy making me sweat so she allowed an uncomfortable pause to pass before continuing. “Ms. Banks. Could you give us the details on the situation?”

“Of course I will,” Banks said, sounding the ‘C’ so hard it caused the plants’ leaves to shudder. “It’s absolutely preposterous, I tell you. Where that Pitt got the nerve to accuse me of anything at all is beyond me!”

I turned my head just enough to catch the corner of Aegis’s eye. While the two of us never really seemed to get along, there are some things all attorneys can understand and sympathize over. For some reason, probably 70% of the time you ask a pony for details concerning something of vital importance, they will start talking for an unreasonable amount of time without providing more than a diverse scattering of new information, none of it with any sort of context.

“I’m sorry, who is this Pitt?” I, being an idiot, made the first mistake and asked an open-ended question.

“He is an uncouth, filthy, low-down, disrespectful snake of a pony!”

As an attorney, I would like to clarify that while most of this account is factually accurate I did change some details, such as the exact wording of that previous sentence. Partly, this was for brevity, as Yvette Banks could have filled a book with her disdain for Mr. Tarr Pitt, which I later learned was the complainant’s full name. Mostly, however, I like to think that my accounts may someday be read by fillies and foals wishing to know what an attorney goes through in their daily life. That being said, I would much rather not receive angry letters from parents whose children learned a wide variety of colorful language from, at my best count, fifteen different decades of caustic linguistic evolution.

When her tirade came to a stuttered stop—She had begun repeating insults and was straining to think of more—Aegis and I shared a glance. That temper would be an issue in the courtroom. For now, though, we needed more facts. After a few moments of staring, it became clear that I was going to have to be the one to ask.

“What exactly is Mr. Pitt accusing you of?”

“A load of malarkey!” Again, filtered.

Aegis cut in when she paused for a breath. “The listed crimes are trespassing, vandalism, and destruction of property.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Vandalism and Destruction? Both?” The crimes were similar. If you ask anypony on the street, they probably couldn’t tell you the difference. In my experience, ponies used Vandalism when the property damage seemed to be the primary purpose of the crime and Destruction of Property as an addition to other crimes, such as theft or assault.

“The Destruction of Property charge refers to four broken windows,” Aegis said, looking over a piece of paper to make sure she had everything correct. “The vandalism charge handles the graffiti separately.”

I tapped my hoof on the table in thought. I looked over at old Banks, took in her aged frame, noted the frown lines and crow’s feet, then turned my attention back to Aegis. “I’m...sorry, ma’am, I think I misheard you.”

“You did not.” Aegis didn’t even look at me. She snapped the paper in her hooves, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “Ms. Banks is being charged for painting a large graffiti mural on the outer wall of Mr. Pitt’s company headquarters without permission.”

“How large are we talking?” I asked, imagining a three foot square dissertation written in sweeping, but tight, calligraphy. Aegis glared at my admittedly casual tone, but she held up a picture. Pitt’s Roofing was a two story workhouse and office smooshed into a single building. While small by Manehattan standards, the fact that it stood in its own lot and separated from the neighboring structures made it look huge and a little imposing.

And save for a few dark rectangles, presumably where the windows had been, every square inch of the face of the building was covered in bright, loud, contrasting, twisting, angling, unbelievably perfect paint. My jaw dropped. I stared at Banks for another moment to make sure that we were talking about the same severe, uptight old mare. “And he’s accusing Ms. Banks?”

“Yes,” our client took thirty seconds and seventy words to say.

“You’re kidding.” I looked at Aegis, desperately seeking some measure of sanity.

“Pitt claims that this was done overnight, and he says he has photographic evidence of Ms. Banks leaving the scene.” Aegis replied, “He won’t release the picture until we’re in court. What does that say to you, Miss Alexandrite?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “It says to me that he doesn’t want to give us a long time to examine the picture. There might be something wrong with it.” Aegis nodded and I continued. “Where were you on the night in question, Ms. Banks?”

“I left work at 7 o’clock and walked back to my apartment. The girls and I played Cribbage, and then I went to bed.” Banks raised her chin another inch and I tried to guess what sort of poker face she might have. As a disclaimer, I have no idea how to play cribbage.

“Can anyone testify that you were at home all night?” I asked. Banks took a few moments to respond.

“Yes, our apartment building has a security guard who works in the lobby. He saw me come in, and he would have seen me leave.”

I nodded and looked at the picture again. Honestly, had it been somewhere else the graffiti might have been beautiful. Then again, if the design was meant to be words I certainly couldn’t read it. After a few more moments of examining it, I tilted my head. “That’s odd.”

“Hm?” Aegis looked up from another piece of paper.

“The windows look like they were broken after the painting was done. Look,” I pointed at one of the missing windows on a lower floor. “This line goes into the window, then comes out over here. So whoever did this probably painted over the windows, and then broke them?” I frowned. “Why would they do that?”

Aegis turned back to her paper. “This was probably done by a disgruntled ex-employee or a client who received subpar service somehow.”

My unease grew at that. “Even so, it doesn’t make sense to paint over the windows and then break them…” Aegis looked up at me and raised her eyebrows, “Artistically, I mean,” I said, slowly losing confidence. “They’d be...destroying part of their own work.” A silence swept through the room and I decided to switch topics before it got too oppressive. “What’s your relationship to this Mr. Pitt, Ms. Banks?”

“A few weeks back that lout was trying to chat up my girls while they were working,” Banks said, her expression darkening.

“By your girls, you mean the tellers at the bank?”

“Well, the girls, yes. We normally just ignore it, but he had propositioned two of the tellers and was about to approach a third. He was holding up the line for this, and so I went out and told him that he could conclude his business and get out, or I’d haul him out by his tail. From there he contacted my supervisor, and though nothing became of it he repeated the entire ordeal several times over the last few weeks.” She muttered, likely something unpleasant, under her breath.

“So you had a contentious relationship, then.”

“We still do. He came in just a few days ago.”

“I see...The prosecution will be using that as a motive, I suppose. Have you bought any spray paint lately?”

Banks visibly lost a bit of her composure. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally responded “No,” in exactly that many words.

I turned my eyes up to her. She was staring at a corner of the ceiling. “Ms. Banks,” I said, putting on my best, most matter-of-fact lawyer voice, “Our firm, we, will be defending you in court. There will be a prosecutor, and they will be doing their research and digging up every detail they can find which might link you to this crime. If you bought spray paint at any time for any reason, they will likely find out about it. It would be advantageous if we knew in advance whether you did, and if so what you used it for.” More silence. “Please, we are on your side, Ms. Banks.”

Something of the severe superviser stole back over her face and she scowled at me. “It was for a bake sale. One of my girls asked for my help. Her daughter is a filly scout, and we banded together to help her troop set up the sale.” She huffed in aggravation. “I made the sign.”

“Well,” I said, “This all seems clear enough. There’s no way you could have committed the crime, and it should be easy enough to show that in court.” The sudden thought of standing in the courtroom flowed into my mind. My body tensed against my will, and I felt a sudden, sharp, twisting pain in my spine. I managed to hide it rather well.

“I think that’s all we need from you for now, Ms. Banks,” Aegis cut in before I could say anything else, which was good because I don’t think I could have opened my mouth without squeaking with discomfort. “Miss Alexandrite?” She stood and headed for the door, and I followed. A short way down the hall she stopped and looked at me. “Well?”

“The fact that the windows were broken still bothers me. I’d be curious to see the broken glass. I wonder if those aren’t two separate crimes.”

“So will you be taking the case?”

I stared at Aegis and something akin to excitement grew in my chest. I could do this. The charge was ridiculous, the evidence probably spotty, the circumstances questionable, and the claimant unpalatable. I could do this. I could definitely do this. I opened my mouth to reply in the affirmative, but the memory of that ache in my back stopped my words. I pictured myself standing there in court, defending the old lady, and my throat caught. Aegis narrowed her eyes at me as I glanced nervously back towards the room where Ms. Banks sat.

“I…”

Say it. Say it! You can do it! It’s an old mare being charged with graffiti for Celestia’s sake just say it!

“I don’t…”

SAY IT!!!!

I felt the pinch in my back again. My eyes misted over. My words battled with spiraling, wild emotions that made me dizzy. I heard myself let out a squeak and saw Aegis droop just a little bit.

“Why don’t you take an early lunch break, Miss Alexandrite?”

I hesitated for a moment, trying to speak. Then I turned and ran.

“Hey Lex—Woah! ...What’s her deal?” Buckler Round walked up to Aegis, who was shaking her head.

“She was offered another case. Banks.”

“Aah,” Buckler said, some of the levity disappearing from his manner. “So, you’ll be taking it then?”

“Escutcheon said that he would handle it.”

Bucklers ears perked and he squinted. “E’s taking it? Again?”

Aegis nodded, staring down the hallway in the direction that the young attorney had run. “He insists that she only be offered cases out of his stock. He…He really thinks she can be his successor.”

Buckler followed Aegis’s gaze, then looked towards the room Banks was in. He whistled low. “You think he’s right?” Aegis rolled her eyes and turned away.

“Come on, I’m serious Aegi...s.” He managed to avoid using his pet name for her. “You think she’s got the chops to be a good attorney?”

“I wonder,” Aegis said without looking back. “I wonder very much.”

The next day, I somehow managed to drag myself into work. I headed straight for the storage cabinet Aegis had had me organizing the day before, but the mare herself emerged from the very room. She didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“Ms. Banks was found not guilty.”

I winced. The trial would have taken place the day before, probably an hour or so after I left the building.

“I mentioned what you said about the windows to Escutcheon.”

It’s hard to wince when you’re already wincing, but I somehow managed it.

“It turned out that Tarr Pitt had broken them himself, and is being brought up on charges of fraud. Further investigation into his company uncovered a plethora of other wrongdoings. With that and Ms. Banks’s alibi, the verdict came in short order.” In writing this, I realize it may sound as if Aegis were complimenting me. Her tone allowed for no such illusions. It was blunt. Informative.

I forced a look up at her. She was staring at the far end of the hall, away from me. I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out, so I closed it again. Aegis let me stew, like she so loved to do. I stood there, unable to run away, unable to speak, only able to listen. But there was nothing to listen to but the soft sounds of movement elsewhere in the building. The scuffle of chairs, the growl of filing cabinets, the clunks and clicks of doors.

“Miss Alexandrite, I believe you have work to do. Perhaps someday you will drag yourself out of this closet and do what you need to do.” She spared me a look. “That’s what Escutcheon told me to tell you.” She walked down the hall, leaving me to sit in my own misery and self-loathing. After a few minutes I pulled open the door and stepped inside.

A piece of paper sat, tri-folded, on the middle shelf. It suddenly occurred to me that while Aegis had come out of the storage closet, she hadn’t left carrying anything. I threw a hesitant glance back at the door to make sure it was closed and approached the paper. As I unfolded it, I saw that it was a letter, written in a cramped but flowing script.

Mr. Escutcheon Herald and Ms. Aegis Steel,

I would like to formally thank you each for your excellent and expert help regarding my disagreement with Mr. Tarr Pitt. You performed admirably by not only exonerating me, but also by using his own evidence to expose his true character. Such efficacious work is what I always hope to see, but never what I expect. My pleasant surprise is matched only by my gratitude towards you. I will seek your aid should I ever need your services again, and I will be sure to direct anypony else who may need your kind of assistance in your direction.

I sighed and nearly put the letter back on the shelf. Aegis must have left it there by mistake. Then the beginning of the next paragraph, or rather my name at the top of it, caught my eye.

Ms. Alexandrite,

I would like to apologize for my curtness in answering some of your questions. At the time, I found them indignant and uncouth. Now I see that I had erroneously jumped to a conclusion. The matter of the spray paint I purchased did come up in court, and while I was surprised such a trivial thing could matter, I quickly saw your wisdom in predicting your opponent’s maneuvers. However, I notice that you were not present in court. I have ascertained that you are hesitant to stand on your own in the courtroom, and for your help I would offer you some advice. In any line of work, though mine especially, one must always take opportunities to make our mark when they are presented. There will always be danger in any decision or action, but that mustn’t stop us from deciding and acting. When our success and the greater good is on the line, simply reaching may force us to realize that the terrifying heights we imagine are much closer than we thought. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Alexandrite, and good luck.

Cordially yours,

-Y. Banks

I swallowed a bitter taste in my mouth. Ms. Banks might have been trying to be helpful, but something about the message turned my stomach. I suddenly questioned what I was doing in this profession at all. I crinkled my nose and shook my head, folding the letter and placing it back where I’d found it. What was it all for? Personal advancement? The “Greater Good”? And anyway, I reasoned, what in Equestria was she talking about with danger and terrifying heights? Apparently I knew even less about the bank teller profession than I’d originally thought.

With all these thoughts pinging around in my brain and a now-familiar cramp pinching my spine I picked up a bottle of window cleaner, gave the contents an exploratory sniff, and found that it was in fact filled with bleach. I grabbed a new sticker, slapped it over the old one, and put the bottle in its proper place.

I suppose I could only try to figure things out one tiny, tiny step at a time.

A Highblooded Turnabout

“No,” I said. “No way. I’m not doing it.”

Buckler Round was one of the most well known and influential ponies in the legal world. He was also my boss. He was also the only one of my bosses I felt like I could talk to normally, and the only one I’d ever dared to refuse anything. Something about him was just approachable, which was something you couldn’t always say about unicorns.

“But Lexaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” He was almost whining. If I hadn’t seen this guy shut down a prosecution’s case with a single lazy sentence, I never would have guessed at his position. “He just wants a peek, y’know!”

“Firstly,” I said firmly, “Watch your phrasing. Secondly, I’m not your lava lamp.” I worked away, organizing a filing cabinet. Until I took a case, Aegis said, I’d be more useful giving the interns a break. I made it look like I was cross-checking each folder as I moved it about, so I wasn’t doing the most entirely embarrassing thing a pony with an attorney’s badge could possibly do.

“He’s never seen a crystal pony before! You gotta come in!” He swished his way around the desk and was watching me work, a nervous grin on his face.

I stuck a folder labeled ‘White’ between ‘West’ and ‘Windfeather’. “Buckler, even if I wanted to, Aegis told me not to stop with this until I was totally finished, and I’m not about to shrug it off for a second.”

“Aw, it won’t be that bad.”

“If she found out you overrode her orders, she’d kill you. Then she’d make me defend her on the charge. Then when she was declared guilty, she’d kill me. And then she’d probably find a way to get my ghost to defend her for my own murder.” Who the hay had put ‘Medium’ under the W file?

“Aegie wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He picked a file out of the drawer I was working on and flipped through its contents. Aegie?

“Does she know you call her that?” I asked, snatching the folder away and checking its label. Gouda. Gouda? I began to get suspicious. Had Aegis actually gone through and mixed these files up or something?

“Course she does!” And then he hesitated. “You’re not gonna tell her are you?”

I sighed. “Look, just, who is this guy you want me to see?”

Buckler lit up instantly, which was weird because that was my gig. “He’s a total big wig. Guy has connections in the prosecutor’s office, but he came to visit us on a small matter.”

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “If he’s just here on a small matter, how exactly did I come into the conversation?”

“Oh.” He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Y’know, the usual. Talking about...things. And stuff.”

I squinted. “Were you gossiping? About me? With some random pony you just met?”

“Gossiping? Whaaaaaaaa—? Don’t be ridiculous, Lexa!” A drawl crept into his voice, and his eyes glazed languidly. It was his trademark.

“Oh no you don’t!” I turned fully toward him, ignoring the files for now. “That won’t work on me! Look, I don’t have a lot of this left to do, so if you’ll just wait—”

“Miss Alexandrite!” This was a different voice. It was harsh and cold, and it sent a chill like a winter storm down my spine. Aegis Steel stalked past the desk that I was working behind, not even looking in my direction. “Buckler is your superior. If he asks you to do something, you drop what you’re working on and do it.”

And then she continued down a hallway and into her office. I stood there, open-mouthed, trying to protest. Then I shot a glare at Buckler, who had watched her go.

“Wooooaaaaah~. Sounds like that’s a direct order!” He grinned and turned back to me, but his face fell when he saw the look on mine. “Hey don’t blame me, Little Miss Loudmouth. I was just asking. But an order’s an order, right? Come on, it’ll just take a sec!”

I sighed and shook my head. “This is going to be humiliating, isn’t it?”

“Humiliating? Not at all! You’re totally spectacular!” He started walking towards his office, and I reluctantly followed.

“I’m not sure I like this though, Buckler.” I trotted until I caught up to him. “You still haven’t told me who this guy is.”

“Oh, he’s uh, what’s his name…” Buckler paused in the hallway to stare at the ceiling.

“Buckler, you’ve already convinced me,” I said, walking right by. “You can stop playing dumb.”

“Oh, right.” He hustled back to walk next to me. “Prince Blueblood.”

I tripped over my hooves. Buckler, despite his generally slow method of speaking, was remarkably quick to act when he needed to, and he caught the back of my vest by levitating it, along with me. “Prince Blueblood?” I sputtered as he set me back on my hooves. “THE Prince Blueblood?”

“Well it could be a reaaaaally good imposter, but I don’t think so.” Buckler reached up and straightened my vest, which had been a bit disarranged by the hurried catch.

“That...What is he doing here?” I asked, still trying to process the presence of the royal nephew of a Princess in our office.

Buckler shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “He wanted something done, I dunno. Wasn’t something I could help him with. Then the conversation turned to shiny stuff and you got brought up.”

“...Shiny stuff?”

“When a dude named Prince Blueblood wants to talk about shiny stuff, you talk about shiny stuff.” Buckler, darn him, made a good point. “Most of our shiny stuff involved stabbing or stealing, so then I thought ‘Hey, Lexa’s shiny!’”

I stared at Buckler good and hard for a few moments. The worst part was, I could see the way that conversation had gone. Buckler stared right back at me.

“Look, Lexa,” he said, “I know this is weird, but it’s not like an insult or anything. Most crystal ponies never leave the Empire, so there’s not really a whole lot of exposure, especially down here in Manehattan.”

I grumbled my agreement. I’d picked a pretty unique path, as far as Empire emigrants went.

“But there’s not a pony in Equestria who hasn’t heard about how beautiful it is up there.”

I grumbled more. I wasn’t about to let him make this a pleasant experience.

“And you’re a piece of that, y’know? You represent the whole Empire to this city.”

I rolled my eyes.

“And you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

...I noticed, suddenly, that I was shimmering. Mostly this revelation came due to the fact that my cheeks had started burning. It also came because I could see Buckler’s shadow being cast on his door.

His door which he promptly threw open.

Inside Buckler’s office sat a tall unicorn with his nose stuck so high in the air I was afraid a passing bird might run into it. When the door swung aside, though, he turned and looked straight at me. I was still shimmering. He beamed suddenly and approached me, rather lacking an awareness of personal space. He didn’t say a word immediately, he simply scrutinized me closely. Finally, he nodded in what I assumed was approval and stepped back.

“Ah, it is just as I have heard!” He clapped his hooves together and a light of excitement stole into his eyes. “You simply must tell me, what is the secret?”

I shot Buckler a glare, and he gave me an apologetic grin in return. He had thrown all of those compliments at me just to shine me up for our royal guest. I’d deal with him later. For now, there was something else at hoof. “Secret?”

“Why, yes! The secret to that gorgeous shimmer! I must know how it is done.”

I stared at Prince Blueblood, and tilted my head. Did he think that you could just click your hooves and become a crystal pony? “I’m...sorry, but I don’t—”

“Hum,” he said, promptly, “So you don’t know. Very well. Come, Mr. Round, we still have business to discuss.” And he turned his back on me. My jaw felt like it had come unhinged, and I turned to look at Buckler. He, however, slipped back into his office and mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to me before he closed the door right in my face.

I sat, staring at the closed door. Somehow, I hadn’t thought my first personal royal meeting would be so…whatever that was. A little resigned, but also a little relieved, I stood and returned to the filing cabinets. I picked up one of the folders I’d found that had been out of place and glanced at the name.

‘Blueblood.’

I stared at this serendipitous piece of manilla with a small amount of apprehension. Could I really…?

Pft, of course I could. Glancing behind myself to avoid surprises, I flipped the file open and looked over the contents.

Defendant: Prince Blueblood

Plaintiff: Bartholomew “Clip” Farthing

Charge: Destruction of Personal Property

Details: Plaintiff claims Defendant used magic to push over his cart, causing structural damage including the loss of two wheels, heavily dented left door, and heavy cracking on the undercarriage. Defendant claims that he was assaulted and acted in self-defense.

Result of Investigation: Defendant’s claim of assault unfounded. He stood too near the roadside and was splashed with mud. Case settled out of court, reparations paid to Plaintiff by Defendant.

Attached was a mugshot of the dear Prince, as he had apparently been arrested at the scene, and as I looked it over I smiled warmly. I closed the folder and tucked it, lovingly, back in the ‘B’ drawer between ‘Blitz’ and ‘Bluster’. No words would ever properly be able to describe the photo, but they hadn’t given him the chance to properly clean off. And there was a lot of mud.

A LOT of mud.

I reached out and grabbed the next folder, checking the name and whistling a quiet melody.