The Ghost of Coltistrano

Brilliant sunlight ebbed through the windows of the second-floor bedroom. It was small, smaller than she was used to. Plain walls were hidden behind seas of sketches and designs, adorning the room like hurricane of inspiration, with the one safe haven a single vanity. Here, the seated pony gave a dainty yawn before her face was beset by a score of delicate brushes. She dragged the dark brush across her eyelashes, patted her cheeks and dark bags beneath her eyes, with little puffs of fragrance as the finishing touch. Then came the important part.

Violet curls parted with a soft hum. A meditative moment, to feel the small bristles scratch and massage her scalp, pulling the strands of her mane into order with each stroke. Her mouth opened with each pass to count the strokes in a soft whisper while all thought seemed to drain from her. All, it would seem, except her excursion from the night before.

Another yawn, stronger than before, scrunched her muzzle as proof of a sleepless night before standing from the vanity, discarding the brush and walking the short distance to a small work desk. Gentle glows of magic pushed aside sketches of gowns and accessories in favor of a small, purple, felt-covered notebook. A blue aura pulled the cover open to reveal pages upon pages of neat writing, flipping to the next blank space. A steaming cup of tea floated to her from the vanity as a knock came from the door. “Rarity? Are you awake?”

“Oh, yes,” she said mid-gulp. “Come in. Do you need something, Sassy?”

Sassy poked her fiery orange mane through the door. ““I wanted to be sure you were awake. You’ve been in here since yesterday afternoon. Are you alright?”

“Of course, darling, pay it no mind. Just a late night’s work, is all. You understand?”

“Right, right, of course. Finishing touches on the gala gown, right?”

Rarity’s eyes turned to a particularly busy corner of the room, littered with spare needles and spools of thread in an almost ritualistic fashion around a single ponnequin smothered in fabric and lace, barely held together by pins. Sassy looked at the mess with a certain excitement, but only Rarity had the perception to know there wasn’t much of a dress present beneath the chaos. “O-Oh, yes. Yes, and it shall be fabulous.” Rarity gave a worried smile.

“You’re so lucky to have been invited. Well, when you’re available, there are customers on the floor.” With that, Sassy stepped out of the doorway. Rarity looked back to the mound of fabric and sighed before focusing on the notebook again. A quill rose from the inkwell and touched the paper.

Last night was, perhaps, the most mysterious event of my investigation to date. Since the day Princess Celestia staged her impromptu meeting I have sensed something foul ahoof, and I'm pleased to report my fear of malpractice has alleviated with each pony I've interviewed. Everypony from the administration down to the castle staff seem to possess a near-spotless record. That is, until I met with Vice General Shield Wall.

He’s a well-to-do unicorn. Tall, broad, aged a bit, but still quite impressionable and very proper. Though my suspicious come not from his demeanor but from his words and actions. He has a special relationship with Chief Magistrate Midnight Gavel but I cannot fathom the connection. He’s hiding something. I followed my suspicions last night to Shield Wall’s office. Surely, I don’t need to tell you the penalties for invading an Equestrian official's professional dwellings, but the princess called on me to find corruption and I simply cannot let her down.

But then the strangest thing happened. As I searched the office for clues, some horrid phantasm ripped through the air and out into the night. With Celestia as my witness, I had never been more frightened in my life! Though, of course, it couldn’t have been a real spectre. I suspect I may not be the only one investigating the vice general. Perhaps-

“Rarity?” Sassy called from behind the door. “There’s a group out here that needs help, can you tend to them?”

“Coming!” Rarity replied in a sing-song tone before returning to the paper.

Perhaps they know something I don’t. If only I could find them.

In a flash she shut the notebook, sipped the last of her tea, and trotted toward the door and out onto the boutique floor. All around her stood ponnequins proudly dressed in her latest designs for customers to witness while she strode to the staircase and surveyed the main floor of the shop, where she spied the group in question. They were bickering as she came down the stairs and up behind them.

“... have no accounting for taste,” said the turquoise-maned stallion. “You are to look presentable, now focus.”

“I want to look like a pony, not some pompous ass.”

“Please, my boy, the mules are quite a humble group.”

“You’re both morons.”

“Anything I can help you with?” Rarity interjected.

The trio all turned to meet who addressed them. The older, pale-green pony smiled and gave a slight bow. The gryphon made a double take, hiding her head behind a wing while aimlessly admiring the clothing. The third, however, caught Rarity’s eye. He was tall, dressed in simple and stained black garb. Silvery grey locks fell past his shoulders and down his neck, and his fetlocks, too, dragged behind his hooves a good inch or two. He looked rugged, untamed, and almost feral in appearance. To Rarity, he was an utter disaster.

“My stars!” Rarity gasped. “Darling, what happened to you?! What sort of dark power kept you in this sorry state? Your mane, your tail and… goodness! Sassy!”

“Yes?” Sassy head poked up as she came striding out from behind the front counter, making a beeline for her hysterical employer.

“Sassy, oh, thank goodness. Please, take care of these two while I help this poor soul find himself underneath all that oppressive filth. Please, sir, this way.”

Silver shot a worried glance to his friends, his only rescue a smug smile from Darrox’s disguised face as Rarity pulled him through the store and out the front door, with the bell above the door the last sound Silver heard before being thrust out into the midday sun, forced down the street by the frantic unicorn behind him. Despite his attempts to bargain with the unicorn, her determined pace only made him walk faster

“Ma’am, I really don’t think-”

“Nonsense,” Rarity blurted out. “There is a stylish pony beneath that ghastly exterior. I just need to find him.”

“But where are...?” Not a second after Silver asked did a large shape come into view. Its neighbor's were minuscule compared to the hulking, intricate building adorned with gilded streaks curling up its spire and carved silhouettes of mares with long, flowing manes and tails in various poses. Ponies strode in and out of the building, those leaving looking remarkably pristine and radiant. Silver read the words “Elite Equine” before a firm aroma of lavender and eucalyptus hit his senses. “Oh no…”

Try as he might, Rarity’s magic and resolve were too much for Silver to resist as he was all but shoved through the front doors. Rarity stepped out from behind him and went to the front desk. “Scissors! Waterfall! We have a spa emergency,” Rarity stated. “I need mud facials, trimming, salt baths, the works… and I suppose I could go for a massage myself.”

The two blue-toned earth ponies behind the counter wasted no time in scooping Silver up by his forelegs and bringing him past the lobby curtains. Beyond the threshold, smells of every kind of flower he could recognize assaulted Silver's senses as he traveled the large work floor, past stations devoted to every discipline imaginable. The looks of relief shared on each pony’s face helped Silver relax a bit, enough for Scissors and Waterfall to bring him to a private room in the back without more squirming. Until he saw their implements. Scrub brushes, ointments, razors. Silver had stumbled into a posh torture chamber of rejuvenation as Rarity followed from behind and stood in the doorway.

“There, now don’t worry one bit about the cost, darling. I’ve gone ahead and placed it on my tab, so all you need to do is relax and let the professionals do their work.”

“Wow,” Silver said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Rarity,” she stated softly. “Please, call me ‘Rarity’.”

Scissors and Waterfall came up behind Silver and pulled him to the cushioned table in the middle of the room. After offering him a glass of cucumber water Waterfall began to help Silver out of his ragged clothing. Waterfall, though, lurched back as Silver removed the jacket, spilling the pitcher of water across the floor.

Silver’s gaze went from the shocked pony to one of his many reflections staring back at him. His scars were pronounced, standing out boldly against his white coat as a twisted pattern of flesh. Scrambling hooves searched for his jacket and slung it over his back as he froze in place. Scissors and Waterfall stood back, but Rarity approached.

“Are you alright? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No!” Silver blurted out. “No, I… it doesn’t. Just don’t like seeing it, is all.”

Rarity’s face softened. As Silver stood with his eyes to the floor she waved the two masseuses to her. Rarity extended a hoof to Silver who, after shifting in place for a moment, received it and was helped onto the table. The two began their work, producing shears and brushes as they started on Silver’s hind legs. Rarity climbed onto the second table while Scissors began her ministrations on Rarity’s form. Still, Rarity’s eyes stayed fixed on Silver as her magic pulled the jacket from his back, causing him to flinch. He yanked it back on.

“You can show me,” she said. “Nopony here will judge you for it.” Silver gave no noticeable response, instead electing to remain still. Rarity pulled one again, without resistance, as it fell onto the floor. Her breath hitched at the criss-cross of wounds, following the trail of skin from his flank all the way to his neck. Without thinking she reached out a hoof, connecting with the scars and tracing their path.

“Not all of that ‘oppressive filth’ washes off,” Silver finally said. He held his gaze in front of him, his body stiff. After a moment he was moved onto his belly as Waterfall focused on the rest of his form, deftly moving his hooves around the scars.

“You say that like they need to be removed,” Rarity returned, beginning to melt into the table from her massage.

“Isn’t that what this place is for? Removing imperfections?” Silver replied without looking.

“Oh, please. Hair and cuticles can all be straightened out or pushed back. Makeup covers blemishes and rashes, or even patchy coats, but those are all temporary. That’s far more maintenance than true beauty.”

Silver's dour expression was soon betrayed by a smile. “Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Well, you certainly weren’t presentable when you entered my shop, but yes, you are.” Rarity's words made him tense again. He whipped his head to the side expecting to see her on the verge of laughing, the long buld up to a cruel punchline, but instead her head merely rest on a pillow as she stared off in front of her. “Beauty is my career, darling," she continued. "It’s what pays the bills. As such, I’ve learned that the surface of a pony, the thing we all see, is often very misleading. Like a shiny apple, you can’t always tell if the core has rotted.”

“I think I’ve heard that one before,” Silver said, chuckling.

“I must hear it at least once a month,” Rarity giggled. “But that is my point. Everypony has beauty in them, it’s just not everypony’s inside matches the outside.”

“And that’s why you drag strangers on unannounced spa trips?”

Rarity chuckled and sank deeper into her cushion. “Strangers are simply friends you haven’t made yet... and please, you need this.”

A loud rap of cracking echoed in the room, causing Silver to wince as the sudden rush in his spine. Waterfall then smoothed out Silver’s back, moving his hooves to the hips before making a sudden, yet gentle tug. Another crack rang out. “Gah! My name’s not ‘Glowstick’, dude.”

Rarity let out a giggle at another yelp from Silver. “Oh, stop complaining, you love it. What is you name?” Silver’s eyes shot to Rarity’s. Even as he was rolled over he still, worriedly, held eye contact. “Surely you wouldn’t want me to start calling you ‘Glowstick’, would you?”

He didn’t return Rarity’s laugh. As Waterfall began sliding the shears through Silver’s mane he sat with a growing knot in his stomach. Rarity had been kind, thus far, but trust was another thing. The thought of his identity reaching Shield Wall ruled his mind, but still, he had never met Rarity before. She, to his knowledge, had no part in his fight, no stake in Shield Wall’s defeat or the Ghost’s dealings.

“Silver…” he whispered, fighting a nervous stutter. “My name is Silver.”

“An appropriate name. Are you from Canterlot?”

“No,” Silver replied. “But I can tell you aren’t, either.”

“Oh, truly?” Rarity wore a playful smile. “And why, grand sleuth, would you suspect that?”

“Well, you did drag the dirty flank of some strange ruffian halfway across town.” Silver adopted his snobbiest impression of nobility, tilting his muzzle up a bit. “Most well-to-do ponies wouldn’t be caught dead helping such filth.”

A loud chortle rose from Rarity, bringing a hoof to her mouth. She seemed to infect the spa ponies and Silver himself with her jubilance as the room filled with smiles and chuckling. Rarity’s own laughter finally died down as she let out a contented sigh. “Yes, I do apologize for my, um, outburst. I can become quite excitable.”

“No,” Silver replied in mock surprise and placing a hoof to his heart.

“Why, when I first met Twilight, you should have seen how I reacted to her mane. To my credit, it was positively atrocious. More like a wasp’s hive than a mane.”

“You know Twilight?”

“Oh, of course, and she’s been a wonderful friend for years, now. I can scarcely believe it myself. Though, she could stand to get out more often, always cooped up in that castle-” Rarity snapped her hoof to her mouth. “Oh, excuse me, it’s not best to say such things about a princess. Slips my mind sometimes.”

With the shears whittling away at his mane, Silver admired the unicorn in silence. This moment, amidst the rush of exposure and relief of laughter, clouded his mind with something almost foreign. Something Silver struggled to remember.

Peace.

--

Claws tapped against her beak, leaning lethargically against the wall of the boutique as Darrox rummaged through racks of suits and formal wear. The elderly changeling was so deep in concentration he hardly noticed Gilda as she slid down to the floor, the rhythmic clacking of hangers against each other beginning to put her to sleep. Even the bustle of other ponies in the shop did nothing to keep Gilda from drifting off as her eyes closed. Relaxation washed over her as her impromptu blanket of wings and feathers enveloped her, before something whipped across her beak. She shot up, eyes trained on Darrox whose tail returned to his side.

“What was that for?!”

“You were falling asleep,” he said, attention still on the suit rack. “There is much to learn from this, you should pay attention.”

“Like what? It’s about as boring as going shopping with your dad. Why am I even here?”

“Because we need you to be here.”

“For what, moral support?” Gilda huffed and returned to her spot on the floor, ignoring the stares her loud voice attracted. “I thought you and Silver were supposed to be doing the hero thing, not me.”

“Yes, yes, this is true, but believe me when I say your presence is needed.” Darrox removed a red blazer from the rack and brought it to a mirror, sizing it up. “The gala is tomorrow and there is much we need to do.”

“Like…?” Gilda drew out, trying to pry an answer from Darrox.

“Have you not figured it out, yet?” Darrox looked to Gilda, bewildered. She shot him another, more annoyed glare. “I see. Forgive me, it has been a while since I last worked with a group. To put it simply, Gilda, you will be accompanying us to the gala tomorrow night and we will need you to look as splendid as possible.”

A blush crossed Gilda’s face and her feathers ruffled. She stared at Darrox, hoping to see his mouth curl and give a laugh, anything to show he was joking. He gave no sign. “Y-You’re serious?” Gilda stood. “Like, ‘serious’ serious?”

“Well, of course. You are young, lovely, and are perfect to play the part needed for our charade. My only regret is so many of these dresses are fitted for ponies and not gryphons.”

Gilda's face grew warm. Of all the places she saw herself going in life never, under any circumstances, did she ever think rubbing shoulders with the elite would be one of them. Darrox continued talking but his words went unheard. Gilda, instead, moved to the mirror and stared into it, finding within visions of the ballroom and a long and flowing gown, her wings adorned with gold leaf that sparkled with light. This unfamiliar warmth spread through her as she took in the sight. As she watched her reflection she could see the smallest hint of a smile before she was brought out of her trance by the ringing of the shop’s bell.

“... unlike anything I had ever experienced. Such a mean-spirited mare, keeping those ponies locked up in that village… oh, thank you.” Rarity crossed the threshold of her boutique, Silver holding open the door. Gilda watched as the two strode across the showroom floor as she took notice of Silver. His coat was a much purer white than this morning, and the silvery hairs of his mane were swept back and controlled. A small bag rested over the smooth, purple robe he was wearing, as well as sporting a gentle smile.

“Though I must say,” Rarity muttered. “Scissors and Waterfall made quite the transformation with you. I dare say you’re somewhat acceptable, now.”

“I should hope so,” Silver stated. “Parts of your ‘treatment’ felt like torture. Remind me again why they let fish eat my hooves?”

“Oh, stop being a foal, you were giggling the whole time.”

Darrox watched the two ponies converse with each other. He smiled at the sight, having been years since he had seen such kindness. On his chest he could feel his hidden chitin shift around itself and he knew the swirl of color was growing. It was a warm feeling, one that electrified his being and spread through all his extremities. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the fiery mane of the other unicorn approaching him. “Have you made a selection? I’d be happy to fetch something from the back if you’re having trouble.”

“Oh, no need, madam,” Darrox presented the red blazer. “I was curious of you had something similar to this, but longer and a bit more grand. Gilda, have you made a selection?”

Darrox turned his eyes to Gilda, who was busy thumbing a lighter amethyst gown. Every now and then she would raise it to her chest and admire it in the mirror. From the side of the mirror the image of Sassy came into view, snapping Gilda from her ruminations. “I think that’s a lovely choice, it goes very well with your fringe.”

“U-Uh, yeah… yeah, well, they’re making me do it and this one looks passable, I guess, so…”

“It’s alright,” Sassy giggled. “You’ll look great in it. Let me find one in your size.” Gilda tried to keep her feathers down, but a few rebels managed to ruffle up despite her best attempts before joining Darrox and Silver.

“Had I known I could receive a more presentable apprentice by turning in my old one to the madam here, I would have done it days ago.” Darrox chided Silver, who swatted his prodding hoof away.

“As if anypony else would be crazy enough to join up with you, the looks are just extra. What about the clothes?”

“Miss Sassy is handling it for us. I dare say, with the proper attire and some wit, we may just pull our little scheme off.”

“Right,” Gilda piped up. “Which you’ve barely told us anything about.”

“Yes, yes, I am aware but I assure you, once we have a sizable wig for Silver and select a proper contingent from the crew, all will be made clear.”

“Wait,” Silver mumbled, bewildered. “A wig?”

“Yes, of course, we simply cannot display your true visage for high society to see, can we? Now, go thank the lovely shopkeeper for getting you cleaned up and meet us outside.”

Shaking off his bewilderment, Silver made his way to the front counter, where Rarity fiddled with trinkets and accessories on the surrounding shelves. She paid him no mind, absorbed in her efforts to organize every item by color and equal placement. Silver rubbed the back of his head and stammered a bit under his breath before finally summoning the courage to speak. “Rarity?”

“Hmm? Oh! I’m so sorry, you were saying?”

“I… I wanted to thank you for dragging me across town and cleaning me up.” Silver said through a soft chuckle. “I’ve never had anypony do that before.”

“Think nothing of it, it was the least I could do to make you look your best.”

“Judging by what you’ve told me I believe it.”

Rarity let out a light giggle as his remark. She closed the distance between them, leaving Silver to fight off a growing blush across his face. “You know, whatever those marks are from, hiding them won’t make them disappear. Everypony is beautiful in their own way, including you.”

“O-Oh, uh, wow… um,” Silver stammered, the blush claiming victory. “You really live up to your name, huh?”

“A lady can try.” With that, Rarity turned to the stairs, flicking her tail the slightest amount before ascending.

From below, Silver watched the white unicorn climb up and stride across the top level, sneaking a final glance at him before his green companion called out. Silver turned and made his way out of the boutique with Darrox and Gilda, the bags of clothing hefted on their backs. Rarity’s eyes followed as they exited before continuing on to her room. She entered, closed the door, and returned to the notebook still sitting on her desk. A quill lifted up beside her and glided over to an empty page, dating a new entry.

It appears there is never a dull moment, even when not investigating a conspiracy. The most peculiar trio entered my Canterlot Carousel today. When Sassy first called me down to greet them I expected nothing more than another clueless client in need of a makeover, but it could not have been further from the truth. An impeccably polite unicorn who seemed far older than he appeared; an almost brutish gryphon who, for the life of me, I can’t shake the feeling of deja vu; and veritable feral-pony with the most ghastly appearance I had seen in years. Of course, being the generous soul I am, I graciously offered him a trip to the ‘Elite Equine’ spa for some much needed grooming. He agreed, but not without some stiff convincing.

I am perturbed, though. Call it my overworked suspicions, but I cannot shake the feeling there is something more to them. Anypony with a trained eye could tell they were out of place. I, however, find it beyond coincidental such peculiar individuals would arrive at such a peculiar time in my investigation. Are they spies? Perhaps enemy agents? I would like to believe they’re simply an eccentric group looking for a new style, but my gut tells me ‘no’. No, there must be something more to them, especially Silver, the unkempt one. He is reserved, polite and self-conscious, but I’ve been around enough noble facades to see something below the surface. The cascade of scars along his back is dreadful, for sure, but they serve as a clever distraction from his athletic frame. Not excessive like Bulk from Ponyville, but more lithe, and I would dare say he seems built for combat. It cannot be coincidence, and apparently there is far more to this case than I first suspected. I must proceed with caution. Maybe a night at the gala will alleviate some of my fears.

Or, perhaps, confirm them.