The key to any puzzle is to break it down and solve it piece by piece. You apply that strategy to this code.

“Veni, vidi, vici,” you read out loud. “Latin: ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ That’s a quote by Caesar.”

“What does it mean?” Wind asks in obvious bewilderment.

“It means that this is a Caesar cipher,” you state, opening one of the drawers of your desk and rummaging around inside. “Where did I—ah, there you are,” you declare as you extract a pair of circular disks stacked on top of one another, one smaller than the other. Both of them have the letters of the alphabet written around their circumferences.

“The Caesar cipher is simple,” you explain. “You just shift the alphabet a certain number of letters and replace every letter in the message with one from the alternate alphabet.” You look back at the message. “‘Most common=A.’ The most common letter in the Standard Equestrian alphabet is E, so…” You rotate the outermost disc so that the E lines up on top of the A and set to work.

“D…” you mutter, identifying the D on the inner ring and noting that it aligns with “H.” You repeat the process for the other letters: E,L,P. “HELP.”

Oh. That’s not a good start. You turn back to the message: “Forward 7.” You rotate the outer disc clockwise seven spaces and begin decoding the next line. Within a couple of minutes, you have fully translated the message:

“HELP ME RAVEN HOLLOW.”

Wind Walker studies her husband’s words with a horrified expression. “Is he—?”

“Ma’am, we don’t know anything for sure,” you interrupt her gently, hoping to cut off her panic. “Have you ever heard of Raven Hollow?”

Wind stammers for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. It sounds like a place to me, but I have no idea.”

You look back at the original letter. “And does your husband normally write you messages in code?”

“No, never,” Walker shakes his head. “He's good at puzzles, but he's not very interested in them.”

“Hmm,” you mumble, turning back to the message. The scrawled letters on the paper scream of desperation, written in a quick hoof, yet the message required intelligence and care to craft.

“Wait here for a moment, Mrs. Walker,” you tell her, standing and striding over to the door. You exit back into the lobby. Open Case has finished the crossword and is now reading an article about the opening of a new exhibit at the Chicoltgo History Museum about somepony named Blackfeather Quill. Maybe a writer.

“Open, you think you could look up anything on Raven Hollow?” you call out to him.

“Sure!” Open eagerly declares, dropping the newspaper and ducking down underneath his desk. After a minute of rummaging, he pops back up again with a large encyclopedia, which he slams down onto the table and starts flipping through with great excitement.

“Ah, here it is!” he declares, placing his hoof onto the page with a dramatic gesture. “Raven Hollow is a small village in the Green Hills, north of Chicoltgo. It’s the site of a large mine of sirenium, a magical element in the hills that is known to have psychoactive properties.”

“So what was a magical engineer doing there?” you ask yourself. “Open, you think you could find a map to Raven Hollow?”

“Sure can,” Open nodded, ducking back down so that all you can see of him is his cutie mark of an open manila folder. With a great rustling, a whirlwind of papers starts billowing out from beneath the desk, files flying everywhere like a flock of maddened birds. You pause to watch the show for a moment: it always defied your belief that Open Case could find anything in that mess of books and files, but whenever any of you need information, he is sure to provide.

You return to your office to find Wind Walker still sitting in her chair, rubbing her hooves against one another in a futile attempt to reassure herself. “Mrs. Walker, do you have a recent photo of Idea?”

“Yes, here,” she nods, reaching into her coat. She extracts a photograph and hands it to you. The picture is of herself standing next to a tall, lanky sunshine yellow unicorn with matted brown hair, crooked square glasses, and a cutie mark of a lightbulb. He grins up at you, adorned with a dark blue jacket. You notice a glimmering silver pin on his collar, shaped like a triangle with a spark in the center.

“Is that a Pinnacle Club pin?” you ask, recognizing the symbol for the nonprofit IQ society.

“Yes, he was a prominent member in our local chapter,” Wind explains. She swallows, raising a hoof to her mouth. “Detective...will you bring him back?”

You feel like you swallowed a block of ice and deliberately avert your gaze back to the picture. You’d like to promise this poor mare that you’ll find her husband and bring him home safely, but you remember one of the first lessons you learned working here: never make a promise that you may not be able to keep. If Idea has really been missing for this long…

“I’ll do my best,” you compromise with yourself, giving Wind a brief nod. “Leave your contact information with Open in case you think of anything else, he can reach me.”

“Thank you, detective,” Wind sighs, a relief that you can’t help but feel is premature flooding her being.

Swinging your trenchcoat onto your frame, you exit the office and return to Open’s desk. He hands you a map that he’d pulled out of who-knows-where. “I’ve marked the quickest route to Raven Hollow from here,” he says, tracing over a route that he’d marked in red ink. “It’s still a pretty long trip, though; you probably won’t get there until towards sunset. Once you get there, I’d check with the local sheriff’s; his office will be at the center of town.”

“Thanks,” you nod to Open, taking the map and tucking it into your coat pocket.

“Be careful out there, rookie,” Open Case warns you as you head for the door. “Try not to get into trouble.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Please. When have I ever gotten into trouble?”

“Well...just don’t start,” Open says slowly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back safely,” you reassure him, opening the door and exiting out into the hallway. You descend down the winding staircase, down all twelve floors and out the front doors, greeting the warm, thick air and the constant soundtrack of bustling hooves, overlapping voices, and growling engines that is the city. You look around and spot your faithful companion, right where you left her. She waits dutifully for you, her polished metal skin reflecting the sunlight as she sits next to the sidewalk.

“Ready for a long trip?” you ask her. Of course, the motorcycle can’t talk back, but you’d like to imagine her eager reply to the offer.

Swinging your legs onto the seat, you extract the helmet from the saddlebags and strap it onto your head, snapping the goggles down over your eyes as you strike at the kickstarter. With a growl, the engine leaps to life beneath you. You pull away from the sidewalk and accelerate into the street, heading north.

Some hours later, as the lowering sun paints the sky in dark oranges and pink hues, you notice a strange smell tickling at your nostrils. You take a deep breath in and smile as you identify the aroma: fresh mountain air!

The bike grumbles beneath you as you climb a dirt road, headed for the peak of a grassy hill. Trees surround you on both sides, their golden, amber and scarlet leaves whispering in the wind as you continue the trek upwards. Pausing at the apex of the hill, you look down and behold your destination.

Nestled into the valley, cradled by the gentle slopes of the mountains in their dazzling array of colors, was a small village of wood and brick houses. Already, faint lights are glowing in the windows and streets. A wooden sign hangs next to the dirt road that descends into the valley. Welcome to Raven Hollow, read the black, flowing letters.

Releasing the brakes, you begin to carefully guide your bike down the winding dirt road and into the little hamlet. The dirt roads seem abandoned: not a single pony is in sight, despite the pleasant coolness of the zephyrs that quietly whistle through the alleyways. Your bike purrs as you carry it through the streets into the town center. The circular space, paved with clay bricks, is decorated with a large statue of a raven standing upon a tree branch, its marble head turned to face the setting sun. Looking around, you spot a squat building with a six-pointed silver star painted over the door: the sheriff’s office. Parking in front of the building, you swing off your bike and walk up to the door.

Unfortunately, the lights are all dark and the door is locked. Taped upon the front window is a sheet of paper that reads in black marker, “Out to dinner at the Waxwing Diner.”

“Darn,” you mutter to yourself, looking up and down the streets. No diner in sight, and you don’t feel like wandering around town.

Turning, you spot your first local inhabitant: a unicorn sitting huddled up against the wall of the sheriff’s office. This pony is dressed in a dusty threadbare jacket. His coat is the color of unpolished brass and his matted mane and beard are a dusty grayish-white.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the elder pony.

He turns to look up at you. The jittering myokymia of his oak brown eyes would’ve betrayed his drunken state if his breath hadn’t done that already.

“New pony,” the vagabond mumbles, struggling to focus on you. He nods and taps his chest with his hoof. “I’m Sunrise Glow.”

“Hello, Sunrise,” you greet him. “I’m a private detective, I’m looking for the Sheriff. Do you know where the Waxwing Diner is?”

Sunrise nods, continuing to stare up in your general direction.

“Uh...could you tell me, please?”

Sunrise swallows. “You’re going to have to go down that road,” he says, pointing towards a road opposite the one you used to enter. “And then there’ll be a turn…”

“Uh-huh. Which way do I turn?”

Sunrise looks like he’s trying to speak, but no matter how much his mouth spasms, no sound will come out. Finally, he manages to speak.

“The four roads speak, but only one tells the truth,” he declares, looking down at the sidewalk at your hooves.

“‘Tis Hummingbird,’ says Whippoorwill.

“‘Follow Sandpiper,’ says Hummingbird.

“‘It is not me,’ protests Sandpiper.

“‘Yes, tis Hummingbird,’ agrees Tern.”

You blink in confusion at the riddle. “Couldn’t you just tell me what road to follow?” you ask.

Sunrise blinks up at you. “I just did.”

Figure out which road to follow.

Author's Note

As promised, here is the next chapter within a week, this one with another puzzle for you to solve.

Clue: two statements in particular stand out against each other. Pay close attention.

Congratulations to The Villain in Glasses, Everfree Pony, Magic Step and MLP Fangirl for correctly deducing last week's puzzle! I wish y'all luck on this week's challenge!