Violet Edge: Ace Prosecutor: Turnabout Buttonsby Magic StepChaptersPrologueBackgroundDivided by a Common LanguageUnited by the TruthStrangers in a Strange LandPrologueIt was nearly an hour past the colt’s bedtime, but he couldn’t sleep. His dad had promised he’d be home before sunset; meanwhile, everypony in elementary school who’d heard where his dad had gone had been only too happy to update him on all the rumors about that town. Where was he? The colt studied the streets outside their home in Middle Lake Park; the trademark electric lights made the outside bright as day. All was quiet. The door behind him creaked open. “Biiiiiiiiig brother! You should be in bed!” an obnoxious high pitched voice squeaked behind him. “Hypocrite,” the colt muttered darkly, not wanting to look at her. “If you stay up can I stay up with you?” “Get lost before I sock you,” the colt snapped. “Do that and daddy will kill you.” The filly scrambled up onto the window seat beside him, her lavender curls bouncing. “Do you really think gold grows under rainbows in Luckfield?” “Don’t talk to me. Get off my window seat.” “It’s not yours; it belongs to both of us. Besides, I don’t get one in my room.” The colt tried to push her off. “Go away you pest!” She braced herself against the wall. “Look, it’s Daddy!” she cried delightedly. “I’m not falling for that trick—” The sound of a rattling carriage made his ears prick up, and he whirled around. He was just able to catch a glimpse of the taxi as it rolled past his window to the front door. A moment later, the bell rang. “He’s home!” His sister scrambled off the window seat and dashed downstairs, her little pink nightgown fluttering. Annoyed, the colt dashed after her, but by the time he reached the front door, she’d gotten there first. “Daddy!” his sister cried, throwing her little forelegs around their father’s large one, delight shining in her eyes. Sickening. “How’s my little rosebud?” the unicorn stallion said, swinging her into the air and letting his saddlebags slide to the ground. His sister giggled with delight. The colt stood awkwardly on the stairs, clinging to the bannister, watching them, listening to his sister’s joyful shrieks, waiting to see if his dad would notice him, wondering if his dad would be interested in the new firework he’d built. His mom and sister were both afraid of fire; his dad was the only one who didn’t think he was dangerous just for having a pyrotechnical cutie mark. So if he was going to show the new firework to anypony, it would have to be now. Any time now… His father set the small filly down. “You’re such a refreshing sight…” “Was it really that bad, Daddy?” The filly oozed fake concern out of her adorable expression. It made the colt feel sick. His father had a pained expression for a second, then smiled tiredly. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I brought you a present!” The filly squealed in delight. “What you bring me?” Their father rummaged around in his saddlebags and pulled out a small plush pony. It was made from red fabric with a mane of yellow yarn. Its eyes were grey buttons. His sister grabbed the doll away and hugged it tightly. “I love it! It looks just like you, daddy!” “Yes, I know. Down to the tiny embroidered cutie mark… though a single gear isn’t that unusual a symbol. Once I saw it I knew I wouldn’t take no for an answer; I had to have it.” “Thank you so much!” His sister hugged their father around his foreleg. The colt glared at the small plushie, boring holes into it with his eyes. Nursing bitter thoughts, he retreated upstairs to get ready for bed, as invisibly as he arrived. *** “You really have to leave, Daddy?” The colt rolled over in bed, annoyed at the sound of her voice. “This is a super important investor’s meeting, sweetie.” “But Saturday is Dad-erday!” “Ha ha, usually, pumpkin, but we’re so close to getting my Wonderbutton machine patented. Surely you know how hard it is to wait for something you’ve looked forward to forever?” “Ok… will you bring me back some taffy to make up for it?” “I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for being understanding, sweetie.” Then a loud slurpy goodbye kiss. “Make sure your lazy brother gets his homework done and maybe we can spend the evening together.” The colt sat bolt upright. Hay no. He dashed into the bathroom and started brushing his teeth. “Rocket Pack, Daddy says-” The colt spat into the sink. “I know what he said, you little worm.” His sister gasped dramatically. “That hurts my feelings!” “Good; I’ll say it more often.” The colt filled his mouth with water. “Mommy said you’re not allowed to hurt my feelings anymore. I’m going to go cry to her and you won’t get any donuts today.” “Drop dead.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Lamia,” he continued. “Baby.” “Just let me have my turn already.” The colt rinsed his toothbrush very slowly. His sister elbowed him out of the way. “Rude baby,” he continued, shuffling out of the bathroom. His sister slammed the door shut behind him. Breakfast wasn’t any better. She cried that his donut was bigger than hers, then took all the milk in revenge. When he’d tipped the glass over onto her coat, mom sent him to his room to think about what he’d done. But he decided not to go to his room. He went to his sister’s instead. Sitting on her bed was the red rag doll from the night before. Its blank button eyes stared at the colt. What an ugly thing; why had his father spent so much money for a scrappy doll like that? Impulsively, he grabbed the doll and brought it to his room. He rummaged through his cabinet and found his long, gun-like lighter. Clomp clomp clomp went his sister’s hooves up the steps. Unconcerned, the colt messed with the trigger until a small flame appeared. Now, what to set on fire first? The ears or the tail? As he held the torch to the yellow yarn sewn to the rear, the door slammed open. “Rocket! You took my- Rocket!!” The note of genuine panic in his sister’s voice made him break into a grin. “Too late now, little brat.” “No!” she wailed as the flames spread up the tail. *** “…and the thread passes from this hook to that hook and then around the button…” “I see,” the patent officer said, adjusting his huge spectacles. He circled the crocodile-sized machine. “I recognize this button design, though, and you do not own it.” “Ah… I deconstructed a Dorset button as a sample pattern for the machine,” the red-coated pony admitted. “I was hoping to enter a partnership with them—goodness knows Lucktown needs the help—but they were… you know how they are. I’ll swap the program out for an original design before I—aah!” He whirled around and jumped away, nearly crashing into the inspector. “Mr. Innovation!” The officer cried. “What on earth is wrong with you?” The red coated pony didn’t answer. After a brief baffled look at his tail, he started writhing, then rolling on the floor. *** “Give it back!” his sister screamed, trying to snatch the doll from the air. The colt laughed, hovering it just out of her grasp. The flames were consuming the hind legs now. “What a wuss.” *** The red coated pony’s screams had now attracted a small crowd. “What is wrong with him!?” The secretary had to shout in order to be heard. “I don’t know!” the patent officer shouted back. The red coated pony’s hind legs suddenly locked up. Then, like magic, burn blisters and black charred fur spread up his legs, working towards his chest. Everypony cried out in shock. *** “I said give it back!” With a mighty leap, the girl snatch the doll from the air and tossed it to the ground. Instinctively, she put out the fire by stomping hard on the flames. *** The red coated pony’s head snapped to attention and his screams were cut short by sudden gasps for air as his whole body convulsed, like a giant was crushing him, once, twice, three times. Then the screaming stopped; his head fell limply to one side, and blood bubbled from his mouth in a gurgle of pain. The watching crowd was in stunned silence for one second longer. Then a young unicorn mare pushed her way to the front, her horn already lit, surrounding the injured pony in a gray aura. “You,” she said, pointing to the stunned patent officer, “send for a paramedic. Now!” As he hastily scribbled out a note, the crowd devolved into a flurry of conversation. What kind of monster would do such a thing? *** The little sister lay on her bed, curled protectively around the injured doll. Her eyes were burning coals as she glared at her brother. “You’ll regret this.” “Fat chance,” the colt retorted. Background“Edgy Edgy Edgy Edgyyyyyyyyy~” Violet Edge jolted awake. “Where am I?” A periwinkle unicorn mare was standing over him. “Your name is Edgy!” “No; call me Violet Edge!” Violet Edge squirmed away from her and sat up. The white halls, the fluorescent lighting… this was a hospital corridor. Why was he lying on a bench in a hospital corridor again…? “Trick question!” the mare reared her legs into the air. “Yay, the spell worked! You’re not, like, a total amnesiac!” That bobbed white mane with a streak of blue… that cutie mark of a heart-shaped lock… The pink dress, the dark purple scarf… Right. Her name was Adorabelle Beauty; she was Violet Edge’s neighbor, Gifted Unicorn Academy Classmate, and constant companion, whether he wanted her around or not. “What do you mean total amnesiac?” Violet Edge rubbed his forehead; he had a massive headache. Shouldn’t have sat up so fast. “Well, like, your guardian taught me how to do the amnesia-reverse spell but, like, he didn’t actually trust me with it and neither did you but I did it, and you remember your name! I did it!” Adorabelle swished her long white tail. “That’s an exceedingly low bar to clear! And… what, I have amnesia often?” Violet Edge took a moment to explore the clothes he was wearing. Running his grey hooves against the fine imported purple silk and the delicate lace in the sleeves was gradually waking up more memories, vague images of his home, his office, important occasions where he felt more sure of himself because of his suit. And a vague teasing memory of a much more tattered suit than this, an old one, cheap and worn day in and day out… ...and packing that tattered suit into a box enchanted with preservation spells, knowing he could have suits much finer, but that tattered suit was the one he’d never be worthy of… “Oh, yeah, like, it’s called um…” Adorabelle interrupted his musings. “Auto-Amnesia Enchantment, um… I forget. But, like, when you were a kid, something happened that was so terrible that, like, your little brain couldn’t take the trauma and you erased your own memory of it. You never recovered your memory of that event. So, like, whenever something happens that slightly reminds you of that thing, you erase your own memories again, as like a reflex, to protect yourself.” “Right.” It was all coming back to Violet Edge now. “We don’t need to revisit tha- you tried to cure me yourself!? Without a doctor?!” “We didn’t have time to fetch a doctor!” Adorabelle said. “We’re standing in a hospital right now!” Adorabelle slowly looked around. “Oh… yeah… right.” Violet Edge’s next recovered memory was of how and under what circumstances to perform a facehoof; if his head hadn’t been so sore he wouldn’t have been able to resist. “Wait, if you’re curing me without a doctor, why are we in the hospital in the first place?” he asked. Adorabelle blinked at him for a few seconds. “Um… should I, like, give you time to figure it out on your own or do you really really need to know?” “How urgent is it? Is someone dying? A-a victim or a friend or…” Violet Edge stopped. What was he saying? His mouth was outrunning his brain. Instinctively he felt the pocket inside of his purple jacket, feeling the tiny bump of a concealed lapel pin. That was right; he was a prodigy prosecutor by profession. That’s why he’d said victim first. That was the most likely reason he’d be here. But was there a reason his mind had gone to friend? Did he had a friend who was likely to die in a hospital, or be murdered…? “Victim, yep,” Adorabelle said. Violet Edge dragged himself away from that morbid chain of thought; it was probably just a slip of the tongue. “Condition?” “He’s like, stable, and you were here to interview the family while waiting for him to wake,” Adorabelle said. “Where’s my organizer?” Violet Edge checked under the bench he was lying on and pulled out a leather folder. Unzipping it, he revealed a notebook and several pockets for paper and small evidence. “Surely I wrote about the case in here…” “Aw… but I wanted to keep telling you.” Adorabelle looked broken hearted. “It’s really really cool; there’s voodoo dolls involved.” “There’s what now?” Violet Edge flipped through the notebook, trying to remember today’s date. Instead he remembered an unrelated ongoing issue. “And stop describing violent crimes as cool! It’s not sensitive to the victims who are real ponies!” “Well, like, it’s not like anypony died,” Adorabelle huffed childishly. “Getting attacked is very traumatic even if you don’t die.” Violet Edge tried a new strategy of flipping to the blank back of the book and turning backwards, looking for the most recent entry. “That’s the spooky part, it was done by voodoo dolls, so the victim never saw an attacker,” Adorabelle said. “And the attacker was the victim’s own son!” “What?” Violet Edge stared at Adorabelle. “Then… there’s already been an arrest?” Adorabelle blinked at him for a few seconds. “Oh, like… no, his son is, like, nine or something; he didn’t know the doll was a voodoo doll. He was just setting it on fire because that’s what colts do, I guess. Burn stuff.” “That’s not normal; that’s sick!” Violet Edge snapped. In his brief anger he let the journal tumble off the bench onto the floor, losing his place. “Oh, I’ve got it!” Adorabelle’s horn started glowing and the journal rose back into Violet Edge’s hooves. That’s right. Magic. Despite Adorabelle’s references to spells, he hadn’t fully internalized the memory that magic was a thing you could casually do until now. “I don’t think you did the memory recovery spell right; can I see a real doctor?” Violet Edge said. “Aw, that’s not fair; it’s different every time and you’re doing fine…” Adorabelle swished her tail. “You never remember things that happened, like, an hour or something before memory loss anyway and we didn’t learn of this crime until just now. You’re always dashing around when new stuff comes up since there’s not that many murders in Equestria and you want to specialize.” Violet Edge rubbed his forehead again, wincing at the pain. “All right, again from the top. A small colt set a doll on fire that happened to hurt his father at the same time. Where did the doll come from?” “The dad brought it home from a business trip to Lucktown; do you remember what that is?” Adorabelle asked. Violet Edge racked his memory. It took him a while since first he had to recall what Canterlot was, what unicorns and earth ponies were, their history of race relations. He had to remember the complex network of technicalities that had ensued when uniting the three tribes into one confederate nation, picking the capitol, the powers the federal government under Celestia did and did not have. And most relevant to the question, he had to remember antiquated but long standing laws from a bygone day when it was still acceptable to pay for labor with food and a place to sleep. “Lucktown was basically a colony of Canterlot, a small farming community at the base of a mountain. Its population is earth ponies with few exceptions and none of them were free agents- they had an arrangement with Canterlot agriculture distributors where they would send most of what they grew to Canterlot and in return Canterlot would take care of all their material needs; no money was ever exchanged. Equestria in general and Celestia in particular was never happy about this arrangement since it violated laws against slavery in Equestria but neither Canterlot nor the Lucktowners were willing to break their agreement, so a special clause was made just for Lucktown. But in the wake of the famine thirty years ago Lucktown stopped being profitable and Canterlot ‘generously’ agreed to finally do as Celestia wished and let the Lucktowners be ‘free.’ Lucktown had no money because they’d never been paid and they have no food because nothing grows there anymore so now it’s a financial wreck.” “Ooh, that’s more than I knew myself,” Adorabelle said. “Why hasn’t anypony helped them?” “If you mean private charities, and Celestia herself, they have- many times. But Lucktown doesn’t want handouts; they want Canterlot to honor their agreement in good times and in bad times and they seem to think that if they just… let their children starve and then complain to Canterlot that they’re starving that Canterlot companies will feel bad and start paying them money again.” Adorabelle snorted. “Yeah, they’ll be waiting a long time for that…” “That’s all I know about Lucktown… and a few other cultural traits of theirs.” Violet Edge closed his eyes. “I don’t seem to recall voodoo dolls, though…” “They’re kinda obscure zebra magic; do you remember what zebras are?” Adorabelle asked. “Species from Zebrica with compatible biology to horses; immigration both to and from Zebrica from or to Equestria practically never happens because neither of us have much interest in learning about the other.” Violet Edge racked his brain for more. “And the only other tidbits I remember relate to strange creepy things they do or have that can be used in crazy murders.” “Yeah, like voodoo dolls!” Adorabelle’s eyes shone intently. “They’re these dolls made to look like a certain pony and if you hurt the doll you can hurt the pony it looks like.” “What was a zebra doll doing in Lucktown?” “That’s the mystery isn’t it?” Adorabelle skipped in a happy circle. “Stop looking so happy already!” Violet Edge looked down at his journal and finally flipped to the last page he’d written on. It was mostly notes on a pony named Bright Innovation; he’d been in the middle of applying for a patent for an automatic button making device. Some of his partners had also visited doctors complaining of mysterious ailments- sudden stabbing pain mostly, but one of them currently was in a wheel support from joint damage. They also collectively had trouble sleeping due to strange fevers and chills that started and faded in synch every day. They’d observed these strange occurrences in conversation but until Mr. Innovation’s spontaneous combustion, no one had thought this was a matter needing police. Hindsight was 20/20. The day before the incident Bright Innovation had come back from a business trip to Lucktown to meet with local button makers, the Dorset family, about using their designs. The meeting had apparently gone very badly but he hadn’t gone into any detail. “Seems like we have a pretty good thread to work along…” Violet Edge muttered as he flipped through the pages. “When can we leave for Lucktown?” “We’re going to Lucktown?” Adorabelle blinked. “Why not? Canterlot and Lucktown may be in the process of separating but Lucktown still isn’t self-governing, at least not in a way that Celestia has recognized yet. That means they fall under federal jurisdiction, which I work for.” “Yes, but, like, if there’s really cursed dolls… isn’t that out of our department?” Adorabelle swished her tail. “I mean, like, since fantastic out-of-the-way curses are more MACT’s thing?” “MACT?” Violet Edge’s memory of the acronym felt slow. “Magical Anomaly Containment Team, Celestia’s expert agents,” Adorabelle said. Now Violet Edge remembered. MACT had basically no limitations on its legal power because it was supposed to only intervene in matters that threatened the fabric of reality itself, on the level of national emergency or higher… but their boss, the Grand Protector, Safeguard, had a tendency to convince Celestia that everything was a potential emergency. “If we absolutely have to involve them we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Violet Edge huffed. “But if it turns out to be some hooligans messing with Zebrica trinkets they don’t need to get involved.” “Okay… So, like, I’ll go see about a coach down the mountain; you should inform your guardian and Gumshoe,” Adorabelle said. At the name Gumshoe Violet Edge felt a sudden spasm seize his body before he’d even remembered who that was. The memory just made him feel his headache getting worse. “Must I?” he groaned before he could check himself. Of course he had to; prosecutors weren’t allowed to investigate alone. A detective had to be there also. But oh how he wished he didn’t have to bring Gumshoe… *** Adorabelle accompanied Violet Edge out of the hospital and stayed with him just long enough to quiz him on the route to the police station. Violet Edge didn’t have much trouble retrieving it; the worst of his amnesia seemed to have passed. Once at criminal affairs he made his way to the detectives’ desks, observing all the ponies busy with their paperwork. The older, veteran detectives were all unicorns, mostly Canterlot natives- the few that had escaped a mass firing after Celestia had caught wind of the serious corruption rotting at the core of the city she called home. The other detectives were mostly in their twenties and all earth ponies, Manehatten imports. And then there was one non pony in the entire department. “Master Edgeworth!!” Something furry collided with Violet Edge’s side and he felt a wet nose pressed against his ear. “That’s disgusting! Get off me!” Violet Edge squirmed. “S-sorry!” The Diamond Dog in a detective coat released his grip on Violet Edge and backed off, tail between his legs. “Gumshoe, how many times do I have to tell you…” Violet Edge scowled. “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” “I’m not that old, sir…” Gumshoe whimpered. Gumshoe had been abandoned by his pack for being the runt of a litter and had been raised entirely by ponies. As a result his coat was clean and shiny and smelled much nicer than most members of his species. He had brown ears, a brown nose, brown paws, and a skinny brown tail, but the rest of his coat was off-white. “How’d visiting Mr. Innovation go, sir?” Gumshoe asked. “He still needs time to recover, but we learned about the possible source of the strange attack. We’re heading to Lucktown to interview suspects; how soon can you leave?” “Anytime sir!” Gumshoe reared on his hind legs in joy, pawing the air. He’d only known ponies his whole life and had picked up on their mannerisms instead of dog mannerisms; it was not a little unsettling. “Well, I can’t fault you for a lack of enthusiasm…” Violet Edge muttered. “I’ll fill you in on everything we know on the way to the carriage stop.” “I get to ride in a carriage!?” Gumshoe’s eyes bulged with excitement. “There’s no regular trains to Lucktown; the way is too steep and Lucktowners rarely leave and Canterlotians rarely visit.” Violet Edge turned to leave. Gumshoe bounded ahead of him to open the door. “Don’t worry sir; if there’s anything to be learned there I know you can figure it out!” “Your blind faith is noted.” *** Adorabelle was waiting at the Downhill Carriage offices with a mint green unicorn. The green mare’s eyes were glossy with tears. “Hey, like, guess what!? A friend’s coming with us!” Adorabelle pushed the unicorn forward, who smiled sadly. “Ah…” Violet Edge held out his hoof with some hesitation. “Have we met before?” “We… attended GUA the same year…” The mint unicorn shook Violet Edge’s hoof in a distracted way. “I’m the girl who had a mental breakdown and couldn’t afford school anymore…” She smiled too widely. “This is Lyra Heartstrings,” Adorabelle jumped in. “She was a music major so, like, I don’t think you really-” “That’s right; we were in the school orchestra,” Violet Edge said. “Right… you were an accomplished flutist.” Lyra stared at the ground. “Your absence was deeply felt,” Violet Edge said. He’d only gathered the news from hearsay; Lyra’s sudden breakdown and disappearance from GUA so soon before graduation had been a constant source of discussion. “I hate to ask you to recount a traumatizing event, but I’d prefer to not have my knowledge tainted with cruel gossip,” Violet Edge said. “What was the cause, exactly?” Lyra swiped her eyes with her hoof. “My older brother, Tree Trace… he left for a trip, promising he had a surprise and that he couldn’t tell us where he was going. That was eight months ago; mom and I have done all we can but we haven’t learned anything about where he is yet.” Violet Edge and Adorabelle exchanged knowing looks. Twenty-something stallions were the most at-risk for crime in Equestria. “When I ran into Adorabelle and she mentioned where you were headed… something clicked.” Lyra’s weak smile widened a little. “Do you mind… if I share a carriage?” “Not at all,” Violet Edge said with a small bow. “The three of us will do whatever we can to help you, Lyra.” “For sure!” Gumshoe said. “Obvi!” Adorabelle gave Lyra a tight side hug. “Thanks.” Lyra sniffled. “I can tell you more on the way.” *** The carriage road wasn’t very well maintained but Violet Edge had used the prosecution department’s travel budget to afford a high class buggy with shock-absorption spells, so the only real inconvenience they suffered was hearing occasional muffled thumps. The seats were plush velvet with individual tiny lanterns and adjustable air jets. The windows and their shades could be manipulated with a few buttons. “The police went over the usual suspects of course,” Lyra said. “Informants within Canterlot, Las Pegasus, etc…” “The missing ponies unit isn’t as well funded as you might think,” Gumshoe said. “Some might say deliberately under funded…” Violet Edge muttered. However much good Celestia wished she could do, the federal branch of the Equestrian confederacy only had a fraction of the budget that local city-states did and had to rely heavily on local support. The budget for local affairs in Canterlot was controlled by the aristocracy, and maintaining power within the aristocracy ultimately meant maintaining the status quo. And the status quo meant not prying too much into where your rich benefactors got all their money. “You’re pretty sure he didn’t leave Equestria?” Violet Edge asked. “The police checked the passport office and he never applied for one,” Lyra said. “And his cutie mark was in pony genealogy so he’d have no reason to go where other races live…” “I see. That’s good; the odds that he’s dead are much lower in Equestria.” Violet Edge was aware that he probably could have said that more tactfully. “But all the leads in the regular slave market were dead ends?” Lyra nodded, stifling a sob. “When they said they’d done all they could… We were in shock. Mom spent every penny she could spare on private detectives, and I… I stole tuition money to hire somepony on the black market.” “You did what!?” Violet Edge said. “Market informants!” Adorabelle chimed in, apparently trying to use excessive cheeriness to offset Violet’s horrified reaction. “You know, like, ponies who already are in the slave selling business so they know everypony to ask! They’re more effective than cops because cops are obligated to sell out everyone they know that’s breaking the law but the market informants aren’t.” “You stole money to hire a crook? What were you thinking!?” Violet Edge demanded. “Well it didn’t work anyway!” Lyra shouted, before breaking into tears again. Adorabelle hugged Lyra tightly while glaring at Violet Edge. “Well, what would your brother say if he knew you broke the law trying to find him? Do you think he’d be proud?” Violet Edge said. “Violet. It’s already happened. Shut up.” Adorabelle stroked Lyra’s mane comfortingly. “Don’t listen to him; he’s a prosecutor… that’s how he thinks…” “I don’t care if he’s mad at me; I just w-want him b-b-back…” Lyra sobbed. Violet Edge shut his eyes to try and block out distractions while he thought. He listened until the sobbing got softer. “So maybe he is in Lucktown?” Adorabelle asked. “I… I remembered… when you said it… that our dad had a suspected branch in his family tree that might have been from Lucktown… and I felt so stupid for not thinking of it before…” “Shh, it’s fine,” Adorabelle whispered. “If he’s there we’ll find him.” “You bet!” Gumshoe shouted. Violet Edge finally opened his eyes. “If your market informant couldn’t find him then that suggests he was never sold on any of the regular slave markets, which increases the odds we’ll find him exactly where he disappeared from. So if we learn that he was last seen in Lucktown, which still falls under Canterlot jurisdiction, we’ll be able to get a warrant to tear the whole town apart if we have to.” “R-really?” Lyra nearly smiled again. “I’ll see it done.” Violet Edge nodded his head in a quick bow. “Thank you, all of you!” “Aw shucks… it’s our job,” Gumshoe said with a goofy grin. Well, not YOUR job, homicide detective… Violet Edge thought. Lyra filled the rest of the ride talking about her brother. Violet Edge was really only interested in the physical description. Average height, teal unicorn with a pure white mane and tail, both worn long, dark blue eyes, cutie mark of a simplistic family tree. On Violet Edge’s end, he couldn’t recall any reports of any activity near Lucktown that even remotely suggested possible foul play… actually, in his memory, Lucktown rarely had anything to report to Canterlot… at all. If this was a town used to policing its own… there were going to be problems. The carriage finally stopped. The three ponies stepped out, expecting a carriage office. There was a wooden post a few feet from the carriage with an L carved into it. It was by the side of a mud road, only really distinguishable from the not-road parts of the ground by the fact that there were only about half as many plants growing in it. On the other side of the road was a barn that looked like it was abandoned fifty years ago. “Well… yay?” Adorabelle asked. Violet Edge tipped the driver heavily. “Are you going to be waiting for us, or…?” “Thirty minutes before you’re ready to leave, place a lit candle here.” The carriage driver gestured to the top of the wooden post. “The post is enchanted, so we’ll get word at the offices that instant, and we’ll start heading your way. Thank you for your patronage!” The four Canterlot ponies waved goodbye as the carriage left. “I’ve never been out of the city,” Adorabelle muttered nervously. “Look, this is just the carriage stop,” Violet Edge said. “I’m sure it’ll look better once we get further in.” They followed the mud road into town. Divided by a Common LanguageThe town got more populated but it never looked less dilapidated. Most of the buildings seemed to be houses and barns built into one and none of them looked less than a hundred years old. The townsponies were all earth ponies, most of them very old, some of them very young, all of them with muddied tattered coats and tired eyes that followed the newcomers suspiciously. They fell silent as soon as the four ponies approached. Children sat frozen in the middle of whatever game they’d been playing with marbles or sticks or other versatile homemade toys. Violet Edge remembered his mentor’s lessons. Never show fear or weakness; act like you’re in charge and you’ll be treated like you are. He spotted a couple of withered elderly ponies sunning themselves on the unbroken half of a porch. He marched up to them. “Excuse me; can you tell me the way to the Dorsets?” The pair narrowed their eyes at his approach. The stallion moved the straw he was gnawing on to the other side of his mouth. “You gombeens sent here by that tea-sipping gingernut?” Violet Edge took a second to check if he still hadn’t retrieved all his memories. Nope; he’d remembered as much as he’d ever would, and that sentence still made no sense. “Whist, now, and lay off the poor lad,” the mare said, gently shoving the stallion’s shoulder. “The Dorsets can take care of blackguards well enough.” Turning to the party of four, she gestured with one hoof. “Follow the main road; you can’t miss their manor.” “Thank you.” Violet Edge resumed his walk, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see if they were still staring at him. “Was that… Equish…?” Gumshoe muttered. “I know, like, why do ponies have to be talking totes weird?” Adorabelle muttered. As far as Violet Edge could tell, the ‘main road’ was the only road. After a while there were less plants growing in the mud. Some of the buildings seemed to be businesses, or at least houses with stores on the lower floor, but nothing had signs, so Violet Edge was only guessing from the traffic going in and out and a glimpse of some things in the windows. Actually he wasn’t sure Lucktown even had stores, considering they were used to getting all their material goods shipped in from Canterlot for distribution. Around the corner of a building with several quilts hanging from the railings that was either a quilt shop or just an enthusiastic hobbyist, the quartet found the only nice building in town. It was a three story, sprawling building, with a huge fenced-in yard filled with handmade playground equipment. A metal slide, a seesaw, a rickety-looking swing set…but no children. The windows all had actual glass and thick mint curtains blocking a view of the inside; the exterior was whitewashed very quaintly. It certainly was showing its age, but somepony, or perhaps many someponies, were clearly keeping it intact. Adorabelle whistled, making Gumshoe’s ears prick up. “It’s, like, soooooo big! So much bigger than our house in Canterlot!” “Your house is a real manor though,” Violet Edge said he telekinetically pulled at the gate. “This house is only so big because land costs nothing in the swamp.” The gate barely budged. Violet Edge narrowed his eyes in concentration and visualized pulling all the power in his body out through his forehead. The effort made him start to lose feeling in his legs. The gate lazily unlatched itself, then obstinately started inching open. “You sure we’re allowed to be here?” Lyra asked. Adorabelle’s royal blue aura suddenly lit up the whole gate, and it slammed open as the periwinkle unicorn froliked into the field. “Aw, look at all these toys! The Dorsets must be a huge family! They’ll love us!” Violet Edge gritted his teeth in pain as he reluctantly let go of the gate, feeling his skin tingle with warmth as his magic flushed back out of his horn. He felt his cheeks growing red and squeezed his eyes shut in shame. Violet Edge’s father had been an earth pony, and Violet had inherited the genetic inclination earth ponies had to let their magic spread throughout their entire body to give them strength and a sixth sense about the natural world. But Violet Edge was born with unicorn magic, not earth pony magic, so it did him no good to have magic anywhere but in his horn. Even the most basic spell was an intense uphill struggle. Meanwhile everything came easy to Adorabelle, what with her impeccable breeding and all. It wasn’t politically correct anymore to talk about genetics as if they were destiny, but Violet Edge knew better than to think you could just ignore science. “Y-you’ll get it someday, Mister Edge!” Gumshoe said. “Shut up,” Violet Edge muttered. Adorabelle was already on the wrap-around porch. Before she could bang on the door, her attention was attracted by the natural wood porch swing dangling nearby. She swished her tail and hopped over to look at it. “Don’t use someone else’s porch swing!” Violet Edge shouted, running up to the porch steps. “I’m not. But, like, aren’t these the cutest throw pillows?” Adorabelle picked up a round cream colored one in her telekinetic grip. The phrase “Industry is its own reward” was embroidered onto it in lavender thread, with buttons dotting the ‘i’s. “Don’t pick up other ponies’ throw pillows either!” Violet Edge batted the pillow out of the air back onto the porch swing. “You meanie; who has throw pillows that aren’t meant to be squooshed?” Adorabelle pouted. Gumshoe rapped on the door with his claws. Then his ears pricked up. “What do you hear?” Violet Edge asked. Eavesdropping wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t like Gumshoe had chosen to have dog ears. “Elderly mare, yelling something. Can’t make out what.” “Just as well.” Violet Edge shrugged. The curtain by the side of the window flickered. “She’s saying… ‘I’ll handle it, don’t- latches!’” The sound of several locks being undone was so loud even Violet Edge could hear it. The door snapped open to reveal an elderly mare. Her coat was a very pale pink, her mane iron grey and knotted in a tight bun. Her eyes matched her mane and studied Violet Edge coldly from behind half-moon glasses with a simple wire frame. Unlike every other pony they’d seen so far, this mare was wearing clothes. A very starchy white dress with faded blue flowers. The dress was obviously cheap material, but the buttons were another matter. Cerulean blue thread was woven around the buttons in an intricate pattern. Violet Edge wasn’t that familiar with fashion, but he knew that woven designs like those tended to be expensive heirloom items. The mare scanned the mismatched party and the corner of her mouth quirked briefly into an amused expression before returning to its solemn look. “Quite a motley crew, aren’t you?” Violet Edge bowed. “My name is Violet Edge; I’m a prosecutor from Canterlot.” “Aye? What’s a gentlestallion like you doing in our humble town? We thought you’d forgotten about us.” “We’re making inquiries regarding one Bright Innovation,” Violet Edge said. The old mare’s eyes widened. “Japers! Go slow now, youngfella; lot of long Canterlot talk you’ve got.” Violet Edge narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this the Dorset residence?” “This gaff, sure enough.” Violet Edge clenched his jaw in frustration. “Can I speak to someone in charge?” Someone who speaks proper Equish, preferably. “No johnny rey over this old mare.” She nodded sagely. And then Violet Edge remembered the other rumor about Lucktowners. No one ever wanted to have to negotiate with them. In folk tales and nationalist jokes they were always playing word games and head games to get their way, no matter how educated the other party was. Unfortunately Violet Edge didn’t have enough evidence to charge her with obstructing justice, because she could honestly just be doing this by accident… ...but something in her eyes left Violet Edge unconvinced. “OMP, I know who you are!” Adorabelle spun in a happy circle. “You’re Madame Dorset! Like, your buttons are, like, totes famous and expensive and stuff! I mean like, elite level stuff!” The elderly pony initially seemed taken aback by Adorabelle’s accent, but then smiled and nodded at the compliment. “Cute mot you got there, teasipper.” “Um… thanks.” Violet Edge hoped mot was a nice word. “You’re just the pony we need to interview then. Do you remember Bright Innovation?” “Oh yes; quite the gentlestallionly git, he was. What about him?” “It’s a long story; may we come inside?” Violet Edge asked. “Wasted little time asking for hospitality, now didn’t you?” Madame Dorset clicked her tongue. “The little sprogs are down for their kip; can’t have a small herd clomping about right now. Come back in an hour; we’re very crowded folks.” She shut their door in their faces. “Hey!” Gumshoe shouted. “Wow, how totes rude… at least I think she was? Could you understand her?” Adorabelle asked Violet Edge. Violet Edge was beginning to feel in over his head. Why hadn’t he waited to ask someone’s advice…? “Can I go… ask around after my brother… while you, um, investigate?” Lyra asked. The only thing worse than looking like a fool was looking like a fool in front of civillians. “You shouldn’t go wandering off in a town where ponies might disappear,” Violet Edge said. “But yes… maybe it’s best if we split up for now.” “Who are you going to take with you?” Adorabelle gave Violet Edge a lethal dose of puppy eyes. “Who gets to investigate with you?” Being a giant puppy at heart, Gumshoe was also a master of puppy eyes. “Give me a second.” Fortunately Violet Edge could close his own eyes. Once those stares weren’t visible he could make a logical decision. “Gumshoe… no one is better at searching than you.” Of the present company, excepting himself. “And I know you’ll do an outstanding job keeping Lyra safe.” And possibly driving away helpful witnesses. “You really mean it?” Gumshoe yipped with excitement. “I won’t let you down, sir! Come on Lyra!” Violet Edge opened his eyes and watched the pair run back into town. Then Adorabelle tacklehugged him. “Ack- Adora-!” She squeed shrilly right in his ear. Violet Edge yelped in pain and Adorabelle leapt back. “OMP, I’m sorry! I’m just so happy!” “Oh, I couldn’t tell,” Violet Edge muttered. “All right, this is serious business. You know the Dorset family?” “I mean, like, not KNOW know them, but like sure, I know about them a little.” Adorabelle shrugged. “That might have been nice to know before we came…” Violet Edge said. “We were busy with Lyra; I’m totes sorry though. Anyway, like, it didn’t click for me until I saw her and the buttons and stuff.” “...You knew we were investigating an accident with a button seller… and you didn’t make the connection until just now?” Violet Edge asked. “Ehehe, whoops.” Adorabelle grinned sheepishly. Violet Edge’s head was feeling better by now, so he went through with that facehoof. “Well, like, sorry, but I remember now!” Adorabelle swished her tail. “So, like, they’re the richest family in Lucktown I think because they make buttons Canterlot loves buying. Oh, and, um… there’s more of them. I don’t remember how many. I think, like, her daughter designs everything and there’s, like, one more that’s a salespony or something… but also they’re, like, local philanthropists I think. This house isn’t just a manor; it’s an orphanage.” “I see.” That certainly explained the playground equipment… but where were all the children? Violet Edge brushed it off; probably not important. “So Bright Innovation not only had a meeting with these ponies that went very badly… But he and his team were working on a machine to mass produce buttons. Which gives the Dorsets a very strong motive to make trouble for Innovation… but on the other hoof…” “...it, like, also gives a motive to the whole town, right?” Adorabelle asked. “Because, like, these ponies have nothing but the Dorsets have and share everything.” “Well, they don’t seem to be sharing very liberally…” Violet Edge studied the Dorsets’ giant manor and reflected on the nigh uninhabitable structures they’d seen elsewhere in town. “But motive is only a small piece of the puzzle. How would respectable Lucktowners get voodoo dolls?” “Hmmmmm…” Adorabelle furrowed her brow in concentration. “I don’t think we’ll be getting any answers here,” Violet Edge said. “Let’s head back into town and ask about the dolls instead.” “And, like, hopefully find a translator…” Adorabelle muttered. United by the Truth“...and he has a cutie mark of a simplified family tree.” Lyra swished her tail hopefully. The pony behind the general store counter shrugged lazily, going back to filling out his accounting book. “Never out of my store. No teasipper’s stopped here in years.” At least he didn’t seem hostile to even being talked to like the others they’d asked so far. “Thanks anyway…” Lyra gave Gumshoe a mournful look over her shoulder. Gumshoe pushed forward. “You haven’t heard anything at all?” The brown stallion looked up in tired annoyance. “I haven’t got a baldy.” Lyra turned to study the shelves to try and stop the tears from showing. There was more empty space than product, and nothing seemed very well sorted. Dusty apples were tucked in random corners; a few sacks of feed slumped on the floor. A couple rusty farm tools were scattered along one back wall. Nothing had a price tag and the pony behind the desk didn’t have a cash register. Then Lyra spotted something familiar. “Is… is that St. Megan’s knot?” Lyra pointed at a ribbon tied around a nail in a window frame; from it dangled a length of yellow braided flax. The brown stallion looked up in surprise. “You’re familiar with the legends?” “Oh, my, yes.” Lyra felt almost giddy. “All of us attended church every Sunday. St. Megan is my hero!” “Never thought I’d meet a teasipper of the faith.” The stallion whistled. “Your brother was one also?” Lyra nodded. “Ah… then maybe you’d best try the chapel up the street; turn left at the Ponder Pine and past the blacksmith’s. Perhaps he met with Pastor Quiet.” “Thank you!” Lyra beamed. *** “Bright Innovation! He was here just the other day. You didn’t hear anything about an outsider visiting?” The two teenage mares shook their head and went back to scrubbing clothes. But something about they way they tittered made it obvious to Violet Edge they were snubbing him. Violet Edge stomped his hoof in frustration. “Why is no one taking this seriously!? I don’t care if you hate Canterlot; a pony nearly died! Why do none of you care?” One of the mares just rolled her eyes. “Sounds like your problem. Bite the backs of our haunches, you old teasipper.” “I’m in my twenties! My mane’s just grey naturally!” That set the two into hysterics. “Forget it…” Adorabelle muttered to him. “Like, surely somepony will, like, I dunno… hey, a gesturing pony!” The periwinkle unicorn gave a whiny of excitement as she galloped across the street to a small shack. “What- where?” Violet Edge cantered after her. The shack looked like someone had borrowed pieces of wall from other houses and leaned them against each other. If not for the very elaborate, but rather wild, patches of flowers around the shack but nowhere else, Violet Edge might think it was a shed for farm tools. But something about the violets and morning glories spoke of a certain kind of overzealous, untidy care. “Don’t just be gawking; you wanted information right?” Violet Edge tore his attention away from the flowers to see a middle-aged mare in the doorway. Her coat and mane were pale grey and her cutie mark was an outline of some daisies- No. This wasn’t natural color. This pony was desaturated. Violet Edge swallowed. “Are… are you…?” “You’ll pardon my appearance.” The mare waved vaguely at the flowers in the yard. “So many little things to take care of…” Violet Edge now regarded the abundance of blooms with some dismay. He’d never seen an earth pony overextend their magic in pony before. “Canterlot finally sent someone after the Dorsets?” the mare snapped. Violet Edge’s eyebrow cocked. “Why would you assume that?” “You’ve met the new boss? Same as the old boss. ‘Cept she lives next to us and can see us suffer and still a heart of iron.” The mare seized Violet Edge’s cravat in her teeth and dragged him inside. Violet Edge stifled a complaint about the expensive silk his cravat was made from. This was the first pony who’d really talked to him so far and it wouldn’t pay to interrupt her. The shack was one room with a fireplace in one corner and a nearly empty barrel of oats in another. The mare’s earthly possessions seemed to consist of a kettle, two bowls, two bedrolls, and a small locked chest. Herbs were drying on the ceiling. “Eyes and ears all over,” the mare whispered. “That gang of thugs Madame sends around act rowdy in the open but they know how to be sneaky, oh yes.” Violet Edge wondered at the mare’s sanity. “Is your husband coming home soon?” The mare shook her head. “Gone to a better home long ago. His pine has many rings.” Violet Edge folded back his ears. He was familiar with earth pony burial rites, and how they would choose a tree or bush to be planted on top of their grave. His own father had chosen dogwood. “I’m… sorry for your loss.” “No one has anything to be sorry for there. Not like with my son.” The mare’s tone turned bitter. Violet Edge pricked his ears forward. “Your son?” “Oh, like, that’s why everything comes in twos but half of everything is dusty?” Adorabelle waved her hoof around the cabin. “...Congrats, Sure Lock,” Violet Edge said. “Aw, thank you!” Adorabelle beamed, either not noticing the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. “Hyote was all I had left in this world,” the Lucktown mare continued. “And those conniving Dorsets want me to believe he went off and joined a gang of blackguards? Oh, no! My son loved his trick-acting, but he wasn’t a bad egg by no means; he always took care of his ma and saw we were well fed.” “Maybe slow down and tell us what happened?” Violet Edge asked. “We never even asked your name…” Adorabelle muttered. The mare closed her eyes. “Ah… beg your pardon. It’s just been a long time since… anypony listened…” A shiver went through her body and she sat down. “It’s okay; I can tell this is very hard for you.” Violet Edge sat down across from her. “Take as long as you need.” “Thank you.” The mare heaved a long sigh. “I’m called Flower Seed. My son Hyote is just about her age.” She gestured to Adorabelle, who sat next to Violet Edge. Adorabelle and Violet Edge were the same age but at least she hadn’t missguessed Violet Edge’s age out loud. “The Dorsets’ youngest member is one of Lucktown’s corner boys, Russel Dorset.” “What’s a corner boy?” Adorabelle swished her tail. “Young dossers.” Flower Seed cocked her head; when Adorabelle continued to wear a blank expression, she tried again. “Useless layabouts?” “Oh, those words I know!” Adorabelle nodded. Violet Edge was glad one of them was willing to look stupid. “Russel and Hyote both had eyes for the same bird, Rain Dance.” “They were fighting over a… pet?” Violet Edge asked. “Is that what you call them in Canterlot?” Flower Seed shrugged. Violet Edge ground his teeth in frustration. “Call what?” “Pretty young lass.” “LOL! No!” Adorabelle giggled. “Oh wow, you didn’t mean an actual bird? That’s so funny!” Flower Seed gave Adorabelle a polite smile. “Knock it off!” Violet Edge shouted at her. He turned back to Flower Seed. “Please keep going, and… to try and prevent interruptions, try your hardest to use plain language, please?” Flower Seed huffed a little at the request. “Rain Dance wouldn’t make up her mind and kept going back and forth between Russel and Hyote until… one day Hyote was there. The next he wasn’t. Every other Lucktowner shrugged it off; said he’d probably wandered off and he’d be back later. Said I was uselessly hysterical. Well now it’s been weeks and still no one does a thing, because they’d have to admit the pony who’s responsible is that young member of the family whose hooves everyone kisses!” Flower Seed stomped her hoof at the end. “That’s horrible!” Adorabelle flung her hooves around Flower Seed’s neck. Violet Edge tried to keep his expression neutral because it wouldn’t be polite to critique this mare’s story if it was true. But he had to stay impartial, and right now he had no evidence that any foul play had happened but a grieving mother’s assurances. Also, while a story of a young stallion disappearing matched with Lyra’s suspicions, it had nothing to do with the crime Violet Edge was investigating. As satisfying as it would be to stop any crime he happened across, Bright Innovation and his partners deserved answers. “Aside from motive, do you have a reason to suspect the Dorsets?” Violet Edge asked. “What are you on about?” Flower Seed snarled. Maybe he should switch to a more neutral tack. “I mean… can you describe how your son’s disappearance came about?” “There’s nothing. To. Say.” Flower Seed’s face contorted in pain. “One day he was out and about town like normal. Then he didn’t come home for supper. Didn’t sleep in his bed. Didn’t greet me in the morning.” “So… no one saw or heard anything of him at all after that?” Violet Edge cocked his head. “You don’t believe me either.” “I didn’t-” Flower Seed rammed into Violet Edge’s shoulder. “Get out, you useless gemhead!” “No!” Adorabelle wailed. “Please don’t be mad at him because he’s clueless!” “What?” Violet Edge shouted. But Flower Seed backed off, still glaring at Violet Edge. “What’s a sweet girl like you see in him?” she asked Adorabelle. “Eheheh.” Adorabelle shrugged. “I couldn’t leave him by himself, could I?” “Hey!” Violet Edge said. “Ha, no lass, guess not.” Flower Seed smirked wryly. Adorabelle giggled nervously. “But like… I think what Edgy meant to say is, have the Dorsets done any other bad stuff?” “Oh, my son isn’t the first disappearance they’ve had a hoof in,” Flower Seed scoffed. “Sure as nopony’s sad that gang of brigands aren’t around anymore, and pleased enough the Dorsets were to take credit for that. But if you’d been to the chapel and asked pointedly enough, Pastor Quiet would have a story for you…” *** Like the Dorset’s manor, Lucktown’s chapel showed signs of being cared for despite the villagers’ meager resources. The brass cross on the roof was polished until it gleamed, and the windows were real stained glass pictures. Half were of St. Megan’s adventures, but a few dared to depict the god St. Megan had taught her little ponies to follow, the half-human half-god Jesus. They were much more generic than St. Megan’s windows and mostly just showed a human with brown hair with a halo around his head, or praying, or on a cross. “Jesus is the god they worshipped in the kingdom of Texas, where St. Megan came from,” Lyra explained as she and Gumshoe approached the building. “I don’t know if you had followers of St. Megan in Manehattan…” “Adorabelle explained it to me after we met,” Gumshoe said. “Right… it’s weird to think of you and my classmate working together, since this is the first time I met you.” Lyra paused to study a picture of St. Megan holding up the rainbow of light. “Looks like they haven’t gotten a new picture of her most recent visit…” “Apparently Violet Edge’s father was a follower of St. Megan too,” Gumshoe said. “Really? I’ve never seen Violet Edge in church though…” Lyra glanced over her shoulder. “Do you… know why?” Gumshoe shrugged. “His guardian is a very devout Karmite, but I don’t think Violet Edge is one of those, either…” Lyra looked thoughtful. “Maybe… I’ll ask Adorabelle later…” The mint mare shook her head and pushed open the chapel door. The chapel’s wooden floor was well worn by many hooves; the pews were simple wooden, but solid construction. In fact a lot of them didn’t exactly match in style or apparent age; perhaps the parishioners constantly replaced them in lieu of money to give. The scent of incense was so heavy in the air that it made Lyra cough. Gumshoe sneezed. “Smells like Perfect Karma’s clothes.” Lyra grinned sheepishly. “Yeah… early Christian ponies integrated elements of their native Karmite religion. Incense is one of those traditions. Not that my church uses it but I don’t think it’s a salvation-threatening manner.” A thump came from the front of the church. “I’ll be right out!” somepony called. The front had a simple wooden pulpit with a giant bark-bound Bible on top, its cover embossed with gemstones. “Those gems are probably enchanted with preservation spells,” Lyra said, nodding at the gems. “Before the printing press Bibles were reproduced very ceremonially; a pegasus had to provide the quills, an earth pony the bark, and a unicorn the enchanted gems, because no one race was better than the others in the eyes of God or St. Megan. This was revolutionary at the time since early G1 religions…” she noticed Gumshoe’s eyes glazing over. “Err… am I going too fast?” “N-no, I’m just…. That’s all way over my head, pal.” Gumshoe gave Lyra a puppy dog look. “I’m sorry…” “You… aren’t from Lucktown.” Lyra and Gumshoe turned to see a stallion in black and white robes had joined them. He was slate blue and a small pair of glasses perched on his nose. All his accoutrements made him look old, but judging from his face he couldn’t have been over thirty. “N-no; my name is Lyra Heartstrings.” Lyra held out her hoof. “I’m looking for my brother… Tree Trace.” Pastor Quiet squeaked in surprise. “Oh. F-fancy that. Why are you… why are you looking for a unicorn in an earth pony town?” Lyra narrowed her eyes. “Why did you assume he was a unicorn?” “I mean you’re one!” Pastor Quiet slid back. “Look, I wish you good luck, but I have studies to get back to…” “You get back here pal!” Gumshoe barked. Pastor Quiet turned tail to run, but Gumshoe bounded over the pony’s head in a feat of athletics that left Lyra stunned. Gumshoe growled at the pastor, who jumped back. “Please don’t hurt me!” Pastor Quiet dropped to the floor and put his hooves over his head and lay there, shaking. “Make the monster go away!” Gumshoe stopped growling and looked hurt. Lyra ignored this and pressed on. “You’re hiding something! Spit it out!” “I can’t tell you anything!” the pastor protested. “Well then, maybe I can.” Gumshoe and Lyra looked to the front of the church and saw Violet Edge and Adorabelle walking up the aisle. *** “Oooh, that entrance was so dramatic!” Adorabelle squealed in Violet Edge’s ear. “Shush.” Violet Edge made it to the front of the church. Addressing the cowering pastor, he said, “We’ve just come from visiting Flower Seed. She told us that there used to be a mortician that worked here, in the cemetery attached to your church.” Pastor Quiet stopped shaking, but didn’t stand up. He looked miserable. “But one day, the mortician admitted to… disrespecting the dead.” Violet Edge actually hadn’t been able to get Flower Seed to spit out what exactly had been happening except in manners laden with local euphemisms. All he’d been able to determine was that it wasn’t necrophilia. “The next day, he was nowhere to be found. Some think he just snuck away in shame, but Flower Seed thinks you know more than you’ve let the public know…” “That’s not true!” Pastor Quiet whimpered. “Switchblade didn’t work for me anyway-” “Your mortician was named Switchblade?” Lyra looked alarmed. "What was wrong with his parents!?" Pastor Quiet winced. “S-sorry, it’s a nickname that just… slipped out.” That didn't seem to reassure Lyra at all. Violet Edge glared down at the cowering stallion, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Is my brother… did the same thing happen to him as your mortician?” Lyra leaned closer. “Please… my brother didn’t do anything wrong! He… he just wanted to surprise me and he…” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t even know if he’s alive or…. Or…” Pain flashed across Pastor Quiet’s face as he watched Lyra cry. Slowly he stood up. “I… I’ve been a weak stallion…” he muttered. Violet Edge bit back a comment. Pastor Quiet’s breathing was quicker. “I’m an outsider in this town myself, you have to understand- the elderly pastor everyone in town respected sent to a mission school asking for a replacement and I was looking for a flock to lead, and I thought everything was fine, but before long…” He shook his head. “I have sinned… and feared the opinion of ponies rather than God…” “Can’t you help us?” Lyra put a hoof on his shoulder. Pastor Quiet shook his head. “I really have nothing. Only suspicions. The Dorsets always told me I shouldn’t search too hard for Sw- for Earth Turner. Said I might only find trouble. And when… when that nice Canterlot unicorn never attended service like he told me he planned to..” “You saw my brother?” Lyra leaned closer, her eyes wide. “He was here?” Pastor Quiet hesitated, then nodded. “He s-said he was here because of suspicions that his family might date back to this village, in a way… that he was going to ask questions around town. But I never saw him after we first met, and when I asked… nopony cared. Said he probably brought trouble on himself by being nosy…” He shuddered. “No!” Lyra shook her head. “Oh no, please no, please…!” Adorabelle pulled Lyra into a hug. Violet Edge took a step closer to the pastor. “And that’s honestly, truly all you know?” Violet Edge pressed. Pastor Quiet bit his lip. “There’s one thing… I don’t know if it’s related…” “Any bit helps,” Violet Edge reassured him. Anything about this town at all, really. “The Dorsets are well-respected for using their manor to house the various orphans and abandoned children of Lucktown, but it’s… common knowledge that no one talks about that, ah… it’s not exactly pure altruism.” Pastor Quiet coughed. “That is, the Dorsets are, of course, respected button makers, but there’s only four adults in that house, and one is always in bed… they’re far more productive than you’d normally expect, so, um…” “Child labor.” Violet Edge seethed internally. “Everypony knows and nopony has done a thing to stop it?” “Well no one knows how much!” Pastor Quiet protested, waving a hoof. “After all, all children used to work on their parents’ farms- nothing wrong about that!” Violet Edge felt his face harden and turned away to show he wasn’t mad at Pastor Quiet. This town was backwards culturally from the rest of Equestria; it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at any one pony. But this appalled him. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” Gumshoe said. “Do you make voodoo dolls here?” “No!” shouted everypony in the room. “That’s a zebra practice!” Violet Edge snapped. “Why can’t you go five minutes without embarrassing yourself, detective?” Gumshoe looked hurt. “You’re looking for zebra heathens?” Pastor Quiet’s ears pricked up. Violet Edge frowned. “That’s a very strong phrase.” “But we have a colony living on the outskirts of town!” Pastor Quiet looked excited. “If you think they’re the troublemakers after all…!” Violet Edge didn’t appreciate the pastor’s excited expression, partly because he wasn’t sure if it was born of pure racism, or if the pastor was just relieved the Dorsets might not be involved and he might not have done anything wrong by ignoring the obviously evil ponies running Lucktown. But he was desperate for leads. “What is a zebra herd doing in the middle of Equestria?” “The gypsies were a wandering tribe; they landed here after everypony kicked them out.” Pastor Quiet shuffled his hooves awkwardly. “They brought demonic healing magic with them, and I did my best to admonish them to stay on the path St. Megan laid out for us and trust in God… but… well, Canterlot did stop providing healthcare for them…” “Understood.” Violet Edge could care less about ponies failing to uphold someone else’s scruples, and he could barely keep the disdain out of his voice. “Where is this colony then?” Pastor Quiet grabbed a piece of paper from the lectern and started making a crude map on the back of it. Violet Edge glanced at Lyra. “You ready to keep investigating?” Lyra shook her head. “I can’t… I… I’m scared…” Violet Edge placed a hoof on Lyra’s shoulder. “I think you’ll find… the best thing will be to know the truth. Wherever it takes us.” Strangers in a Strange LandThe zebra camp outside of Lucktown honestly looked better kept than the town proper. Their wagons were brightly and freshly painted with stylized flowers and birds. In between the wagons were strings of colorful banners- no, on second glance they were just clotheslines, draped with tie-dyed material. Zebras were swarming around a boiling cauldron dipping in cloth to wash; children ran around splashing in soapy puddles. It looked like a communal laundry day. Violet Edge felt a similar twist of not belonging that he felt when he arrived at Lucktown. But this was different. Because all the zebras had bright smiles on their faces. Some children ran up to him chasing a bunny. When they saw the small party of ponies, they stopped cold and backed off. A zebra filly shouted over her shoulder, “Mabhiza!” As one the zebra tribe turned to look at Violet Edge and his motley crew. A few stopped working, but most kept on, as if trying to prove the presence of strangers didn’t really bother them. Violet Edge suddenly worried that strange slang words might be the least of his problems. A strong young zebra stallion handed the scrub brush in his hooves to the mare next to him, then approached the party. “Hello there; I see you’re not from Lucktown.” Violet Edge blinked. He hadn’t expected such perfect grammar. “Oh sorry, do you not speak this language?” The zebra punched Violet Edge in the shoulder and threw his head back in a wild laugh. “Ahaha, I’m messing with you. I was born in this forest; we’ve been here a long time.” “Really?” Violet Edge raised an eyebrow. “Indeed; Wuchenjeri taught us that we must move when we are driven, but no one in Lucktown seems in a hurry to drive us out.” The zebra stuck out his hoof. “I am Vakashinga; what brings you to our home?” Everyzebra was so happy and nice looking and Violet Edge didn’t know how to ask the pertinent question. “Do you guys, like, make voodoo dolls here?” Adorabelle piped up. That solved it. Vakashinga’s expression was blank. “Voo.. do? Sorry?” Violet Edge gritted his teeth. “They’re… um… a work of black, uh, zebra magic that we’re trying to trace the… source… of…” Vakashinga’s countenance darkened. “I don’t know what you expected to find here, but we have nothing to do with black magic. Our tribe’s been through enough; find another zebra herd to harass.” “It’s not like that!” Maybe Violet Edge could salvage this. “It’s just that we know for sure the dolls came from Lucktown and no one in the town is willing to talk to us…!” Vakashinga was still glaring. “I have no idea what dolls you’re talking about.” He slowly breathed in and out, then forced a smile onto his face. “But try Nhoroondo; she’s the lore-keeper. If there’s some… distant dark legend buried deep in our past before any of us were even a twinkle in the gods’ eyes…Nhoroondo would know it. She’s in the wagon with bulbadews on it.” “Thank you for understanding.” Violet Edge bowed. “Don’t mention it.” Vakashinga turned back to the mare he’d been with before. The four ponies made their way to the indicated wagon; Violet Edge tried to ignore the angry stares. “That was... unfortunate,” Lyra commented. “I’m sorreeeee,” Adorabelle whined. Violet Edge sighed. “We had to ask sometime; we’re not here for pleasant reasons.” Violet Edge climbed up on the tree stump by the wagon’s beaded curtain entrance. He knocked on the wood on the wagon side. A choked sort of laugh came from inside. “You silly ponies. Ring the curtain.” Violet Edge studied the beaded curtain, then, feeling like a dope, he randomly waggled some of the strings. The beads clicked together, making pleasing rhythms. “Come in, come in!” the voice they’d heard before said. Violet Edge pushed the curtain aside and stepped up into the wagon. The walls were covered in tiny torches the size of candles, glowing with purple flames; the floor of the wagon was carpeted with dried flowers. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling. The room was clearly only half the size that the wagon was outside; another beaded curtain was on the far wall, probably leading to sleeping quarters. This room looked like a receiving room/kitchen, with clay jars along one wall and an iron pot with contents that appeared to be bubbling, despite not being above a flame Violet Edge could see. There was also a low table on a thick plush rug. A zebra mare with a long mane in a strange fluffy bun was sitting at the table, grinding something in a mortar. She looked up and her mouth formed an O. “I’ve gone to see unicorns, but this is the first time one has come to see me.” She beckoned Violet Edge closer. Violet Edge approached carefully. “And how about diamond dogs?” Gumshoe leapt through the curtain and skittered on the floor, his claws clacking on the slippery wood as he slid next to Violet Edge. The mare’s eyes sparkled. “We wandered in the mountains when I was young, though you are the sweetest smelling of your kind I’ve ever met.” “Thanks…?” Gumshoe tilted his head. Lyra and Adorabelle sat behind Violet Edge. “Quiet the party you have here. What makes such a prestigious group seek out poor old Nhoroondo?” “Vakashinga sent us here.” Violet Edge glanced at Adorabelle, who looked ashamed and did a lip-sealing motion. “My name is Violet Edge; this is Lyra Heartstrings, Adorabelle, and Gumshoe. We are from Canterlot law enforcement. We traced a certain… kind of dolls from this town, Lucktown.” He paused. “Understand, I don’t mean to accuse you or your tribe of anything without evidence, but I’m required to follow every lead I have.” Nhoroondo narrowed her eyes. “Go on.” “Have you… ever heard of voodoo dolls?” Nhoroondo rocked back on her haunches and stared at the ceiling. “Can you explain the purpose of these dolls?” Violet Edge nodded. “They’re works of black magic that are made to resemble a particular pony, and when harm is done to the doll… harm is done to the pony” “Ah, those.” Nhoroondo closed her eyes. “Long ago, when our tribe broke off from our warlike parent tribe to follow the peaceful ways of Wuchenjeri, we wandered through the Zebrica plains. There is a story told of another zebra tribe we met and narrowly escaped from, a tribe lead by a monster who kept his subjects prisoners with demonic dolls. That was the Voodoo tribe; we observed there would be no peace for us if we stayed in their territory and made our escape.” “How long ago was this?” Violet Edge asked. “My great-great-great grandfather was just a colt.” Nhoroondo smirked. “We have lorekeepers for a reason, so our tribe will have long memories, and so we never walk the same dangerous road twice.” “...oh… like, obviously not related to the crime today…” Adorabelle said. Violet Edge studied Nhoroondo’s face. She could easily be lying to protect the tribe. If only he could be certain… ...if only he had somepony who could tell him… But you threw that away, didn’t you? Violet Edge shook his head. “You didn’t… keep anything about how to make the dolls, right?” “No good could come of that!” Nhoroondo shuddered. “Did any of your tribe learn how to make dolls at the time, though?” Violet Edge pressed. Nhoroondo sighed. “...The herd moves as one and is remembered as one; I only know where we travelled, not what actions individuals took. But I will say, if anyzebra did learn and remember the method of making voodoo dolls, they never used that information.” Violet Edge’s shoulders slumped. “Well… thank you very much for your time.” Lyra pushed forward. “Do you remember another unicorn that visited almost a year ago? A mint green one like me?” Nhoroondo shook her head. “I would certainly keep record of something like that.” Lyra’s eyes started misting. “I've... been praying for any way to find my brother again, and... you’re just the kind of pony- of zebra he would have liked. He could listen to stories about history for hours, and his eyes would shine with wonder…” Nhoroondo set her pestle gently on the table and stood up. She came over to Lyra and gently placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I could not help you more.” “Maybe…” Lyra sniffled and forced a smile. “No one in Lucktown is willing to talk to us… would they talk to you?” Nhoroondo rolled her eyes. “Any exchange of culture is repulsive to them. They come in secretive groups to consult Poresa, the tribe’s healer- nothing more.” She paused. “That’s not strictly true. There… there was one. My former apprentice, Nyaya… she caught the eye of a stallion from Lucktown.” “Where is Nyaya?” Lyra asked. Nhoroondo’s smile was bitter. “Her spirit is forever at the party of the gods.” Lyra lowered her ears. “I… I’m sorry.” Nhoroondo waved her hoof dismissively. “We miss her, but we do not mourn; she had time to drink the Tea of Virtues, so she is in a happy place.” “She had what now?” Adorabelle asked. “What about her lover?” Violet Edge asked, cutting Adorabelle off. He didn’t want to waste time learning about religion. Nhoroondo’s expression grew steely. “He… tried to follow Nyaya. It’s… not my place to speculate if he made it or not, but the villagers… blame us… collectively.” “This place is miserable,” Adorabelle muttered. “Adorabelle!” Violet Edge snapped. “But it is!” Adorabelle wailed. “Everypony is mean and spiteful or starving and being kidnapped and dying and how can ponies live like this right next to Canterlot where everything’s so pretty and smart?” “You don’t get out of your gated community much do you?” Gumshoe asked. “You know what I meeeeean,” Adorabelle sniffled. Nhoroondo watched Adorabelle thoughtfully. “I do not know how much of a rush you are in… but I would like to invite you to our midday meal, if you’re willing.” Violet Edge shook his head. “We couldn’t impose…” “...could we?” Lyra asked Violet Edge. She sounded weary. The investigation was wearing down the two mares; Violet Edge supposed they could spare some time. Personally he was uncomfortable accepting charity, but Nhoroondo seemed genuine in her offer. Violet Edge nodded. “Fine then.” He swept a bow. “We would be honored to accept.” Nhoroondo chuckled. “Very well Violet Edge; I will introduce you to the others.” *** While some of the zebras were wary about the small party of ponies, Nhoroondo’s acceptance of them clearly carried a lot of weight. The tribe was all around more welcoming than Violet Edge had expected them to be, happy to smile and introduce themselves. Lunch was communal moss soup made in another cauldron that bubbled without flames. A smiling stallion ladled out servings first to all the children, then to the guests, then the tribe’s adults. Then everyone brought their meals to sit around colorful blankets spread on the grass. There was no silverware and everyone drank straight from their bowls. Gumshoe didn’t hesitate before lapping up his share, but the prim and proper Canterlot unicorns looked at each other for a while. All the other zebras were bending down to their bowls on the ground and gulping, so using telekinesis to lift the bowls to their mouths, which felt more natural, would be conspicuous. Violet Edge decided that being a gentlepony meant taking the same actions regardless of the situation and used telekinesis anyway; the mares copied the zebras at first, but Lyra switched back to taking sips. Or pretending to, anyway. The soup tasted like spicy dirt. Violet Edge swallowed his mouthful as fast as he could only for his stomach to protest at being used in such a cruel manner. “Well?” the zebra mare sitting across from Violet Edge asked, a mischevious grin on her face. “V-very… flavorful.” Violet Edge forced a smile. “It’s a little… strong,” Lyra said. “Yeah, isn’t it great!?” Gumshoe glanced up, the fur around his mouth turning a matted green. “Mmmm, I love it,” Adorabelle cooed. Some of the adults chuckled. “Just wait for the apprentices to bring the chingwa around,” the first mare to laugh at Violet Edge said with a wink. “It’s good for those with weak stomachs.” Violet Edge must have unconsciously given her a cold look, because her next laugh sounded nervous. A few minutes into the meal a dozen teenage zebras paraded out of one of the carts, balancing trays on their heads. The trays seemed to stay in place without them making any apparent effort to hold their heads level. One went to each blanket and knelt in the center to let the dining ponies to reach. On each tray was a warm brown loaf of dense, earthy-smelling bread. At each blanket every zebra turned to look at one of the oldest zebras in their group. At Violet Edge’s blanket it was Nhoroondo. Nhoroondo and the other older zebras stood up and swished their hooves over the loaves, and they fell into neatly cut slices. Adorabelle gasped and clapped her hooves. “It’s like a magic trick!” “It is magic,” Nhoroondo said with a smile as she sat back down. Violet Edge had once gotten a book on zebra magic from the Gifted Unicorn Academy library but ultimately found it too confusing; nopony had ever made a thorough study of zebras from a unicorn’s perspective on magic, and zebras didn’t know how to explain their own magic in terms that meant anything to ponies. The oversimplified version he came away with was that while unicorns worked spectacular effects but then were tired out, zebras could do little, menial things without limit. Violet Edge waited until all the zebras took a slice of bread, then levitated a slice of bread to his mouth and took a small bite. It also tasted like dirt. At least this dirt wasn’t spicy. The texture felt oddly spongy. “If you don’t mind me asking…” Violet Edge said. “Go on,” the mare who kept talking to Violet Edge said. “...You don’t have familiar ingredients that grow here, right? How does this compare to what you usually eat?” The mare chuckled. “Chingwa is whatever makes a suitable dough, water, and a little cooking magic.” “Wow, no yeast?” Adorabelle took a huge bite of bread. “That’s what we were practicing today,” the apprentice holding the plate of bread said. “You guys are so cool~” Adorabelle finished the rest of her bread in two bites. Lyra and Violet Edge exchanged sheepish looks. Though they didn’t know each other as well as they each new Adorabelle, the look was all they needed to express understanding… that Adorabelle had no idea how condescending she was sounding, and nothing good would come of pointing it out. “What grain do you have… here?” Violet Edge asked. “Before we could buy potatoes from Lucktown in exchange for charms,” the mare said. “Now they will not talk to us, so we’ve been using swamp grass.” Violet Edge tried to keep from throwing up. The zebra mare tittered at him again. Violet Edge was done being the center of attention and settled into passively listening while he attempted to eat a polite quantity of food. The swampy bread did help the pain from the spice; so did the fruity milk drink the apprentices brought at the end of the meal (with a note of explanation that turning water to milk was also part of their training). Adorabelle of course continued chatting obliviously about anything that caught her eye, from clothing to the construction of wagons. When the apprentices were done serving food a number of the teenage males showed off their parlor tricks for her while she clapped in glee. Lyra and Nhoroondo talked about Tree Trace. Violet Edge wished she’d stop hurting herself. “Can I finish that for you?” Gumshoe poked at Violet Edge’s bowl. Violet Edge sighed. Well, he did hate wasting food. “Sure.” Gumshoe slurped the bowl clean while Violet Edge tried not to notice. The other zebras were having conversations sliding between Equish and their native zebra tongue. They seemed relatively comfortable having outsiders in their midst now. When the time seemed right, Violet Edge cut into the conversation Lyra and Nhoroondo were having. “Would it be improper for us to say goodbye now?” Nhoroondo shrugged. “We will be having our midday rest soon, so it’s probably for the best. Good luck on your journey, and I’m truly sorry I could not help you.” Violet Edge stood to leave, but as he looked at the tribe sitting together, something occurred to him and he turned back. “According to some of the Lucktowners who would talk to us, there’ve been several young stallions disappearing in the town, not just Tree Trace. Has anyzebra ever gone missing from your tribe?” Nhoroondo shook her head, then stopped, and her eyes widened. “Kusuwa…” Violet Edge’s ears swiveled forward. “That’s a member of your tribe?” Nhorooodo nodded. “I think… you should talk to him. He is in Poresa’s wagon; I will give you his midday meal. Tell them I sent you.” Violet Edge bowed his head. “Thank you very much.”
PrologueIt was nearly an hour past the colt’s bedtime, but he couldn’t sleep. His dad had promised he’d be home before sunset; meanwhile, everypony in elementary school who’d heard where his dad had gone had been only too happy to update him on all the rumors about that town. Where was he? The colt studied the streets outside their home in Middle Lake Park; the trademark electric lights made the outside bright as day. All was quiet. The door behind him creaked open. “Biiiiiiiiig brother! You should be in bed!” an obnoxious high pitched voice squeaked behind him. “Hypocrite,” the colt muttered darkly, not wanting to look at her. “If you stay up can I stay up with you?” “Get lost before I sock you,” the colt snapped. “Do that and daddy will kill you.” The filly scrambled up onto the window seat beside him, her lavender curls bouncing. “Do you really think gold grows under rainbows in Luckfield?” “Don’t talk to me. Get off my window seat.” “It’s not yours; it belongs to both of us. Besides, I don’t get one in my room.” The colt tried to push her off. “Go away you pest!” She braced herself against the wall. “Look, it’s Daddy!” she cried delightedly. “I’m not falling for that trick—” The sound of a rattling carriage made his ears prick up, and he whirled around. He was just able to catch a glimpse of the taxi as it rolled past his window to the front door. A moment later, the bell rang. “He’s home!” His sister scrambled off the window seat and dashed downstairs, her little pink nightgown fluttering. Annoyed, the colt dashed after her, but by the time he reached the front door, she’d gotten there first. “Daddy!” his sister cried, throwing her little forelegs around their father’s large one, delight shining in her eyes. Sickening. “How’s my little rosebud?” the unicorn stallion said, swinging her into the air and letting his saddlebags slide to the ground. His sister giggled with delight. The colt stood awkwardly on the stairs, clinging to the bannister, watching them, listening to his sister’s joyful shrieks, waiting to see if his dad would notice him, wondering if his dad would be interested in the new firework he’d built. His mom and sister were both afraid of fire; his dad was the only one who didn’t think he was dangerous just for having a pyrotechnical cutie mark. So if he was going to show the new firework to anypony, it would have to be now. Any time now… His father set the small filly down. “You’re such a refreshing sight…” “Was it really that bad, Daddy?” The filly oozed fake concern out of her adorable expression. It made the colt feel sick. His father had a pained expression for a second, then smiled tiredly. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I brought you a present!” The filly squealed in delight. “What you bring me?” Their father rummaged around in his saddlebags and pulled out a small plush pony. It was made from red fabric with a mane of yellow yarn. Its eyes were grey buttons. His sister grabbed the doll away and hugged it tightly. “I love it! It looks just like you, daddy!” “Yes, I know. Down to the tiny embroidered cutie mark… though a single gear isn’t that unusual a symbol. Once I saw it I knew I wouldn’t take no for an answer; I had to have it.” “Thank you so much!” His sister hugged their father around his foreleg. The colt glared at the small plushie, boring holes into it with his eyes. Nursing bitter thoughts, he retreated upstairs to get ready for bed, as invisibly as he arrived. *** “You really have to leave, Daddy?” The colt rolled over in bed, annoyed at the sound of her voice. “This is a super important investor’s meeting, sweetie.” “But Saturday is Dad-erday!” “Ha ha, usually, pumpkin, but we’re so close to getting my Wonderbutton machine patented. Surely you know how hard it is to wait for something you’ve looked forward to forever?” “Ok… will you bring me back some taffy to make up for it?” “I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for being understanding, sweetie.” Then a loud slurpy goodbye kiss. “Make sure your lazy brother gets his homework done and maybe we can spend the evening together.” The colt sat bolt upright. Hay no. He dashed into the bathroom and started brushing his teeth. “Rocket Pack, Daddy says-” The colt spat into the sink. “I know what he said, you little worm.” His sister gasped dramatically. “That hurts my feelings!” “Good; I’ll say it more often.” The colt filled his mouth with water. “Mommy said you’re not allowed to hurt my feelings anymore. I’m going to go cry to her and you won’t get any donuts today.” “Drop dead.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Lamia,” he continued. “Baby.” “Just let me have my turn already.” The colt rinsed his toothbrush very slowly. His sister elbowed him out of the way. “Rude baby,” he continued, shuffling out of the bathroom. His sister slammed the door shut behind him. Breakfast wasn’t any better. She cried that his donut was bigger than hers, then took all the milk in revenge. When he’d tipped the glass over onto her coat, mom sent him to his room to think about what he’d done. But he decided not to go to his room. He went to his sister’s instead. Sitting on her bed was the red rag doll from the night before. Its blank button eyes stared at the colt. What an ugly thing; why had his father spent so much money for a scrappy doll like that? Impulsively, he grabbed the doll and brought it to his room. He rummaged through his cabinet and found his long, gun-like lighter. Clomp clomp clomp went his sister’s hooves up the steps. Unconcerned, the colt messed with the trigger until a small flame appeared. Now, what to set on fire first? The ears or the tail? As he held the torch to the yellow yarn sewn to the rear, the door slammed open. “Rocket! You took my- Rocket!!” The note of genuine panic in his sister’s voice made him break into a grin. “Too late now, little brat.” “No!” she wailed as the flames spread up the tail. *** “…and the thread passes from this hook to that hook and then around the button…” “I see,” the patent officer said, adjusting his huge spectacles. He circled the crocodile-sized machine. “I recognize this button design, though, and you do not own it.” “Ah… I deconstructed a Dorset button as a sample pattern for the machine,” the red-coated pony admitted. “I was hoping to enter a partnership with them—goodness knows Lucktown needs the help—but they were… you know how they are. I’ll swap the program out for an original design before I—aah!” He whirled around and jumped away, nearly crashing into the inspector. “Mr. Innovation!” The officer cried. “What on earth is wrong with you?” The red coated pony didn’t answer. After a brief baffled look at his tail, he started writhing, then rolling on the floor. *** “Give it back!” his sister screamed, trying to snatch the doll from the air. The colt laughed, hovering it just out of her grasp. The flames were consuming the hind legs now. “What a wuss.” *** The red coated pony’s screams had now attracted a small crowd. “What is wrong with him!?” The secretary had to shout in order to be heard. “I don’t know!” the patent officer shouted back. The red coated pony’s hind legs suddenly locked up. Then, like magic, burn blisters and black charred fur spread up his legs, working towards his chest. Everypony cried out in shock. *** “I said give it back!” With a mighty leap, the girl snatch the doll from the air and tossed it to the ground. Instinctively, she put out the fire by stomping hard on the flames. *** The red coated pony’s head snapped to attention and his screams were cut short by sudden gasps for air as his whole body convulsed, like a giant was crushing him, once, twice, three times. Then the screaming stopped; his head fell limply to one side, and blood bubbled from his mouth in a gurgle of pain. The watching crowd was in stunned silence for one second longer. Then a young unicorn mare pushed her way to the front, her horn already lit, surrounding the injured pony in a gray aura. “You,” she said, pointing to the stunned patent officer, “send for a paramedic. Now!” As he hastily scribbled out a note, the crowd devolved into a flurry of conversation. What kind of monster would do such a thing? *** The little sister lay on her bed, curled protectively around the injured doll. Her eyes were burning coals as she glared at her brother. “You’ll regret this.” “Fat chance,” the colt retorted.
Background“Edgy Edgy Edgy Edgyyyyyyyyy~” Violet Edge jolted awake. “Where am I?” A periwinkle unicorn mare was standing over him. “Your name is Edgy!” “No; call me Violet Edge!” Violet Edge squirmed away from her and sat up. The white halls, the fluorescent lighting… this was a hospital corridor. Why was he lying on a bench in a hospital corridor again…? “Trick question!” the mare reared her legs into the air. “Yay, the spell worked! You’re not, like, a total amnesiac!” That bobbed white mane with a streak of blue… that cutie mark of a heart-shaped lock… The pink dress, the dark purple scarf… Right. Her name was Adorabelle Beauty; she was Violet Edge’s neighbor, Gifted Unicorn Academy Classmate, and constant companion, whether he wanted her around or not. “What do you mean total amnesiac?” Violet Edge rubbed his forehead; he had a massive headache. Shouldn’t have sat up so fast. “Well, like, your guardian taught me how to do the amnesia-reverse spell but, like, he didn’t actually trust me with it and neither did you but I did it, and you remember your name! I did it!” Adorabelle swished her long white tail. “That’s an exceedingly low bar to clear! And… what, I have amnesia often?” Violet Edge took a moment to explore the clothes he was wearing. Running his grey hooves against the fine imported purple silk and the delicate lace in the sleeves was gradually waking up more memories, vague images of his home, his office, important occasions where he felt more sure of himself because of his suit. And a vague teasing memory of a much more tattered suit than this, an old one, cheap and worn day in and day out… ...and packing that tattered suit into a box enchanted with preservation spells, knowing he could have suits much finer, but that tattered suit was the one he’d never be worthy of… “Oh, yeah, like, it’s called um…” Adorabelle interrupted his musings. “Auto-Amnesia Enchantment, um… I forget. But, like, when you were a kid, something happened that was so terrible that, like, your little brain couldn’t take the trauma and you erased your own memory of it. You never recovered your memory of that event. So, like, whenever something happens that slightly reminds you of that thing, you erase your own memories again, as like a reflex, to protect yourself.” “Right.” It was all coming back to Violet Edge now. “We don’t need to revisit tha- you tried to cure me yourself!? Without a doctor?!” “We didn’t have time to fetch a doctor!” Adorabelle said. “We’re standing in a hospital right now!” Adorabelle slowly looked around. “Oh… yeah… right.” Violet Edge’s next recovered memory was of how and under what circumstances to perform a facehoof; if his head hadn’t been so sore he wouldn’t have been able to resist. “Wait, if you’re curing me without a doctor, why are we in the hospital in the first place?” he asked. Adorabelle blinked at him for a few seconds. “Um… should I, like, give you time to figure it out on your own or do you really really need to know?” “How urgent is it? Is someone dying? A-a victim or a friend or…” Violet Edge stopped. What was he saying? His mouth was outrunning his brain. Instinctively he felt the pocket inside of his purple jacket, feeling the tiny bump of a concealed lapel pin. That was right; he was a prodigy prosecutor by profession. That’s why he’d said victim first. That was the most likely reason he’d be here. But was there a reason his mind had gone to friend? Did he had a friend who was likely to die in a hospital, or be murdered…? “Victim, yep,” Adorabelle said. Violet Edge dragged himself away from that morbid chain of thought; it was probably just a slip of the tongue. “Condition?” “He’s like, stable, and you were here to interview the family while waiting for him to wake,” Adorabelle said. “Where’s my organizer?” Violet Edge checked under the bench he was lying on and pulled out a leather folder. Unzipping it, he revealed a notebook and several pockets for paper and small evidence. “Surely I wrote about the case in here…” “Aw… but I wanted to keep telling you.” Adorabelle looked broken hearted. “It’s really really cool; there’s voodoo dolls involved.” “There’s what now?” Violet Edge flipped through the notebook, trying to remember today’s date. Instead he remembered an unrelated ongoing issue. “And stop describing violent crimes as cool! It’s not sensitive to the victims who are real ponies!” “Well, like, it’s not like anypony died,” Adorabelle huffed childishly. “Getting attacked is very traumatic even if you don’t die.” Violet Edge tried a new strategy of flipping to the blank back of the book and turning backwards, looking for the most recent entry. “That’s the spooky part, it was done by voodoo dolls, so the victim never saw an attacker,” Adorabelle said. “And the attacker was the victim’s own son!” “What?” Violet Edge stared at Adorabelle. “Then… there’s already been an arrest?” Adorabelle blinked at him for a few seconds. “Oh, like… no, his son is, like, nine or something; he didn’t know the doll was a voodoo doll. He was just setting it on fire because that’s what colts do, I guess. Burn stuff.” “That’s not normal; that’s sick!” Violet Edge snapped. In his brief anger he let the journal tumble off the bench onto the floor, losing his place. “Oh, I’ve got it!” Adorabelle’s horn started glowing and the journal rose back into Violet Edge’s hooves. That’s right. Magic. Despite Adorabelle’s references to spells, he hadn’t fully internalized the memory that magic was a thing you could casually do until now. “I don’t think you did the memory recovery spell right; can I see a real doctor?” Violet Edge said. “Aw, that’s not fair; it’s different every time and you’re doing fine…” Adorabelle swished her tail. “You never remember things that happened, like, an hour or something before memory loss anyway and we didn’t learn of this crime until just now. You’re always dashing around when new stuff comes up since there’s not that many murders in Equestria and you want to specialize.” Violet Edge rubbed his forehead again, wincing at the pain. “All right, again from the top. A small colt set a doll on fire that happened to hurt his father at the same time. Where did the doll come from?” “The dad brought it home from a business trip to Lucktown; do you remember what that is?” Adorabelle asked. Violet Edge racked his memory. It took him a while since first he had to recall what Canterlot was, what unicorns and earth ponies were, their history of race relations. He had to remember the complex network of technicalities that had ensued when uniting the three tribes into one confederate nation, picking the capitol, the powers the federal government under Celestia did and did not have. And most relevant to the question, he had to remember antiquated but long standing laws from a bygone day when it was still acceptable to pay for labor with food and a place to sleep. “Lucktown was basically a colony of Canterlot, a small farming community at the base of a mountain. Its population is earth ponies with few exceptions and none of them were free agents- they had an arrangement with Canterlot agriculture distributors where they would send most of what they grew to Canterlot and in return Canterlot would take care of all their material needs; no money was ever exchanged. Equestria in general and Celestia in particular was never happy about this arrangement since it violated laws against slavery in Equestria but neither Canterlot nor the Lucktowners were willing to break their agreement, so a special clause was made just for Lucktown. But in the wake of the famine thirty years ago Lucktown stopped being profitable and Canterlot ‘generously’ agreed to finally do as Celestia wished and let the Lucktowners be ‘free.’ Lucktown had no money because they’d never been paid and they have no food because nothing grows there anymore so now it’s a financial wreck.” “Ooh, that’s more than I knew myself,” Adorabelle said. “Why hasn’t anypony helped them?” “If you mean private charities, and Celestia herself, they have- many times. But Lucktown doesn’t want handouts; they want Canterlot to honor their agreement in good times and in bad times and they seem to think that if they just… let their children starve and then complain to Canterlot that they’re starving that Canterlot companies will feel bad and start paying them money again.” Adorabelle snorted. “Yeah, they’ll be waiting a long time for that…” “That’s all I know about Lucktown… and a few other cultural traits of theirs.” Violet Edge closed his eyes. “I don’t seem to recall voodoo dolls, though…” “They’re kinda obscure zebra magic; do you remember what zebras are?” Adorabelle asked. “Species from Zebrica with compatible biology to horses; immigration both to and from Zebrica from or to Equestria practically never happens because neither of us have much interest in learning about the other.” Violet Edge racked his brain for more. “And the only other tidbits I remember relate to strange creepy things they do or have that can be used in crazy murders.” “Yeah, like voodoo dolls!” Adorabelle’s eyes shone intently. “They’re these dolls made to look like a certain pony and if you hurt the doll you can hurt the pony it looks like.” “What was a zebra doll doing in Lucktown?” “That’s the mystery isn’t it?” Adorabelle skipped in a happy circle. “Stop looking so happy already!” Violet Edge looked down at his journal and finally flipped to the last page he’d written on. It was mostly notes on a pony named Bright Innovation; he’d been in the middle of applying for a patent for an automatic button making device. Some of his partners had also visited doctors complaining of mysterious ailments- sudden stabbing pain mostly, but one of them currently was in a wheel support from joint damage. They also collectively had trouble sleeping due to strange fevers and chills that started and faded in synch every day. They’d observed these strange occurrences in conversation but until Mr. Innovation’s spontaneous combustion, no one had thought this was a matter needing police. Hindsight was 20/20. The day before the incident Bright Innovation had come back from a business trip to Lucktown to meet with local button makers, the Dorset family, about using their designs. The meeting had apparently gone very badly but he hadn’t gone into any detail. “Seems like we have a pretty good thread to work along…” Violet Edge muttered as he flipped through the pages. “When can we leave for Lucktown?” “We’re going to Lucktown?” Adorabelle blinked. “Why not? Canterlot and Lucktown may be in the process of separating but Lucktown still isn’t self-governing, at least not in a way that Celestia has recognized yet. That means they fall under federal jurisdiction, which I work for.” “Yes, but, like, if there’s really cursed dolls… isn’t that out of our department?” Adorabelle swished her tail. “I mean, like, since fantastic out-of-the-way curses are more MACT’s thing?” “MACT?” Violet Edge’s memory of the acronym felt slow. “Magical Anomaly Containment Team, Celestia’s expert agents,” Adorabelle said. Now Violet Edge remembered. MACT had basically no limitations on its legal power because it was supposed to only intervene in matters that threatened the fabric of reality itself, on the level of national emergency or higher… but their boss, the Grand Protector, Safeguard, had a tendency to convince Celestia that everything was a potential emergency. “If we absolutely have to involve them we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Violet Edge huffed. “But if it turns out to be some hooligans messing with Zebrica trinkets they don’t need to get involved.” “Okay… So, like, I’ll go see about a coach down the mountain; you should inform your guardian and Gumshoe,” Adorabelle said. At the name Gumshoe Violet Edge felt a sudden spasm seize his body before he’d even remembered who that was. The memory just made him feel his headache getting worse. “Must I?” he groaned before he could check himself. Of course he had to; prosecutors weren’t allowed to investigate alone. A detective had to be there also. But oh how he wished he didn’t have to bring Gumshoe… *** Adorabelle accompanied Violet Edge out of the hospital and stayed with him just long enough to quiz him on the route to the police station. Violet Edge didn’t have much trouble retrieving it; the worst of his amnesia seemed to have passed. Once at criminal affairs he made his way to the detectives’ desks, observing all the ponies busy with their paperwork. The older, veteran detectives were all unicorns, mostly Canterlot natives- the few that had escaped a mass firing after Celestia had caught wind of the serious corruption rotting at the core of the city she called home. The other detectives were mostly in their twenties and all earth ponies, Manehatten imports. And then there was one non pony in the entire department. “Master Edgeworth!!” Something furry collided with Violet Edge’s side and he felt a wet nose pressed against his ear. “That’s disgusting! Get off me!” Violet Edge squirmed. “S-sorry!” The Diamond Dog in a detective coat released his grip on Violet Edge and backed off, tail between his legs. “Gumshoe, how many times do I have to tell you…” Violet Edge scowled. “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” “I’m not that old, sir…” Gumshoe whimpered. Gumshoe had been abandoned by his pack for being the runt of a litter and had been raised entirely by ponies. As a result his coat was clean and shiny and smelled much nicer than most members of his species. He had brown ears, a brown nose, brown paws, and a skinny brown tail, but the rest of his coat was off-white. “How’d visiting Mr. Innovation go, sir?” Gumshoe asked. “He still needs time to recover, but we learned about the possible source of the strange attack. We’re heading to Lucktown to interview suspects; how soon can you leave?” “Anytime sir!” Gumshoe reared on his hind legs in joy, pawing the air. He’d only known ponies his whole life and had picked up on their mannerisms instead of dog mannerisms; it was not a little unsettling. “Well, I can’t fault you for a lack of enthusiasm…” Violet Edge muttered. “I’ll fill you in on everything we know on the way to the carriage stop.” “I get to ride in a carriage!?” Gumshoe’s eyes bulged with excitement. “There’s no regular trains to Lucktown; the way is too steep and Lucktowners rarely leave and Canterlotians rarely visit.” Violet Edge turned to leave. Gumshoe bounded ahead of him to open the door. “Don’t worry sir; if there’s anything to be learned there I know you can figure it out!” “Your blind faith is noted.” *** Adorabelle was waiting at the Downhill Carriage offices with a mint green unicorn. The green mare’s eyes were glossy with tears. “Hey, like, guess what!? A friend’s coming with us!” Adorabelle pushed the unicorn forward, who smiled sadly. “Ah…” Violet Edge held out his hoof with some hesitation. “Have we met before?” “We… attended GUA the same year…” The mint unicorn shook Violet Edge’s hoof in a distracted way. “I’m the girl who had a mental breakdown and couldn’t afford school anymore…” She smiled too widely. “This is Lyra Heartstrings,” Adorabelle jumped in. “She was a music major so, like, I don’t think you really-” “That’s right; we were in the school orchestra,” Violet Edge said. “Right… you were an accomplished flutist.” Lyra stared at the ground. “Your absence was deeply felt,” Violet Edge said. He’d only gathered the news from hearsay; Lyra’s sudden breakdown and disappearance from GUA so soon before graduation had been a constant source of discussion. “I hate to ask you to recount a traumatizing event, but I’d prefer to not have my knowledge tainted with cruel gossip,” Violet Edge said. “What was the cause, exactly?” Lyra swiped her eyes with her hoof. “My older brother, Tree Trace… he left for a trip, promising he had a surprise and that he couldn’t tell us where he was going. That was eight months ago; mom and I have done all we can but we haven’t learned anything about where he is yet.” Violet Edge and Adorabelle exchanged knowing looks. Twenty-something stallions were the most at-risk for crime in Equestria. “When I ran into Adorabelle and she mentioned where you were headed… something clicked.” Lyra’s weak smile widened a little. “Do you mind… if I share a carriage?” “Not at all,” Violet Edge said with a small bow. “The three of us will do whatever we can to help you, Lyra.” “For sure!” Gumshoe said. “Obvi!” Adorabelle gave Lyra a tight side hug. “Thanks.” Lyra sniffled. “I can tell you more on the way.” *** The carriage road wasn’t very well maintained but Violet Edge had used the prosecution department’s travel budget to afford a high class buggy with shock-absorption spells, so the only real inconvenience they suffered was hearing occasional muffled thumps. The seats were plush velvet with individual tiny lanterns and adjustable air jets. The windows and their shades could be manipulated with a few buttons. “The police went over the usual suspects of course,” Lyra said. “Informants within Canterlot, Las Pegasus, etc…” “The missing ponies unit isn’t as well funded as you might think,” Gumshoe said. “Some might say deliberately under funded…” Violet Edge muttered. However much good Celestia wished she could do, the federal branch of the Equestrian confederacy only had a fraction of the budget that local city-states did and had to rely heavily on local support. The budget for local affairs in Canterlot was controlled by the aristocracy, and maintaining power within the aristocracy ultimately meant maintaining the status quo. And the status quo meant not prying too much into where your rich benefactors got all their money. “You’re pretty sure he didn’t leave Equestria?” Violet Edge asked. “The police checked the passport office and he never applied for one,” Lyra said. “And his cutie mark was in pony genealogy so he’d have no reason to go where other races live…” “I see. That’s good; the odds that he’s dead are much lower in Equestria.” Violet Edge was aware that he probably could have said that more tactfully. “But all the leads in the regular slave market were dead ends?” Lyra nodded, stifling a sob. “When they said they’d done all they could… We were in shock. Mom spent every penny she could spare on private detectives, and I… I stole tuition money to hire somepony on the black market.” “You did what!?” Violet Edge said. “Market informants!” Adorabelle chimed in, apparently trying to use excessive cheeriness to offset Violet’s horrified reaction. “You know, like, ponies who already are in the slave selling business so they know everypony to ask! They’re more effective than cops because cops are obligated to sell out everyone they know that’s breaking the law but the market informants aren’t.” “You stole money to hire a crook? What were you thinking!?” Violet Edge demanded. “Well it didn’t work anyway!” Lyra shouted, before breaking into tears again. Adorabelle hugged Lyra tightly while glaring at Violet Edge. “Well, what would your brother say if he knew you broke the law trying to find him? Do you think he’d be proud?” Violet Edge said. “Violet. It’s already happened. Shut up.” Adorabelle stroked Lyra’s mane comfortingly. “Don’t listen to him; he’s a prosecutor… that’s how he thinks…” “I don’t care if he’s mad at me; I just w-want him b-b-back…” Lyra sobbed. Violet Edge shut his eyes to try and block out distractions while he thought. He listened until the sobbing got softer. “So maybe he is in Lucktown?” Adorabelle asked. “I… I remembered… when you said it… that our dad had a suspected branch in his family tree that might have been from Lucktown… and I felt so stupid for not thinking of it before…” “Shh, it’s fine,” Adorabelle whispered. “If he’s there we’ll find him.” “You bet!” Gumshoe shouted. Violet Edge finally opened his eyes. “If your market informant couldn’t find him then that suggests he was never sold on any of the regular slave markets, which increases the odds we’ll find him exactly where he disappeared from. So if we learn that he was last seen in Lucktown, which still falls under Canterlot jurisdiction, we’ll be able to get a warrant to tear the whole town apart if we have to.” “R-really?” Lyra nearly smiled again. “I’ll see it done.” Violet Edge nodded his head in a quick bow. “Thank you, all of you!” “Aw shucks… it’s our job,” Gumshoe said with a goofy grin. Well, not YOUR job, homicide detective… Violet Edge thought. Lyra filled the rest of the ride talking about her brother. Violet Edge was really only interested in the physical description. Average height, teal unicorn with a pure white mane and tail, both worn long, dark blue eyes, cutie mark of a simplistic family tree. On Violet Edge’s end, he couldn’t recall any reports of any activity near Lucktown that even remotely suggested possible foul play… actually, in his memory, Lucktown rarely had anything to report to Canterlot… at all. If this was a town used to policing its own… there were going to be problems. The carriage finally stopped. The three ponies stepped out, expecting a carriage office. There was a wooden post a few feet from the carriage with an L carved into it. It was by the side of a mud road, only really distinguishable from the not-road parts of the ground by the fact that there were only about half as many plants growing in it. On the other side of the road was a barn that looked like it was abandoned fifty years ago. “Well… yay?” Adorabelle asked. Violet Edge tipped the driver heavily. “Are you going to be waiting for us, or…?” “Thirty minutes before you’re ready to leave, place a lit candle here.” The carriage driver gestured to the top of the wooden post. “The post is enchanted, so we’ll get word at the offices that instant, and we’ll start heading your way. Thank you for your patronage!” The four Canterlot ponies waved goodbye as the carriage left. “I’ve never been out of the city,” Adorabelle muttered nervously. “Look, this is just the carriage stop,” Violet Edge said. “I’m sure it’ll look better once we get further in.” They followed the mud road into town.
Divided by a Common LanguageThe town got more populated but it never looked less dilapidated. Most of the buildings seemed to be houses and barns built into one and none of them looked less than a hundred years old. The townsponies were all earth ponies, most of them very old, some of them very young, all of them with muddied tattered coats and tired eyes that followed the newcomers suspiciously. They fell silent as soon as the four ponies approached. Children sat frozen in the middle of whatever game they’d been playing with marbles or sticks or other versatile homemade toys. Violet Edge remembered his mentor’s lessons. Never show fear or weakness; act like you’re in charge and you’ll be treated like you are. He spotted a couple of withered elderly ponies sunning themselves on the unbroken half of a porch. He marched up to them. “Excuse me; can you tell me the way to the Dorsets?” The pair narrowed their eyes at his approach. The stallion moved the straw he was gnawing on to the other side of his mouth. “You gombeens sent here by that tea-sipping gingernut?” Violet Edge took a second to check if he still hadn’t retrieved all his memories. Nope; he’d remembered as much as he’d ever would, and that sentence still made no sense. “Whist, now, and lay off the poor lad,” the mare said, gently shoving the stallion’s shoulder. “The Dorsets can take care of blackguards well enough.” Turning to the party of four, she gestured with one hoof. “Follow the main road; you can’t miss their manor.” “Thank you.” Violet Edge resumed his walk, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see if they were still staring at him. “Was that… Equish…?” Gumshoe muttered. “I know, like, why do ponies have to be talking totes weird?” Adorabelle muttered. As far as Violet Edge could tell, the ‘main road’ was the only road. After a while there were less plants growing in the mud. Some of the buildings seemed to be businesses, or at least houses with stores on the lower floor, but nothing had signs, so Violet Edge was only guessing from the traffic going in and out and a glimpse of some things in the windows. Actually he wasn’t sure Lucktown even had stores, considering they were used to getting all their material goods shipped in from Canterlot for distribution. Around the corner of a building with several quilts hanging from the railings that was either a quilt shop or just an enthusiastic hobbyist, the quartet found the only nice building in town. It was a three story, sprawling building, with a huge fenced-in yard filled with handmade playground equipment. A metal slide, a seesaw, a rickety-looking swing set…but no children. The windows all had actual glass and thick mint curtains blocking a view of the inside; the exterior was whitewashed very quaintly. It certainly was showing its age, but somepony, or perhaps many someponies, were clearly keeping it intact. Adorabelle whistled, making Gumshoe’s ears prick up. “It’s, like, soooooo big! So much bigger than our house in Canterlot!” “Your house is a real manor though,” Violet Edge said he telekinetically pulled at the gate. “This house is only so big because land costs nothing in the swamp.” The gate barely budged. Violet Edge narrowed his eyes in concentration and visualized pulling all the power in his body out through his forehead. The effort made him start to lose feeling in his legs. The gate lazily unlatched itself, then obstinately started inching open. “You sure we’re allowed to be here?” Lyra asked. Adorabelle’s royal blue aura suddenly lit up the whole gate, and it slammed open as the periwinkle unicorn froliked into the field. “Aw, look at all these toys! The Dorsets must be a huge family! They’ll love us!” Violet Edge gritted his teeth in pain as he reluctantly let go of the gate, feeling his skin tingle with warmth as his magic flushed back out of his horn. He felt his cheeks growing red and squeezed his eyes shut in shame. Violet Edge’s father had been an earth pony, and Violet had inherited the genetic inclination earth ponies had to let their magic spread throughout their entire body to give them strength and a sixth sense about the natural world. But Violet Edge was born with unicorn magic, not earth pony magic, so it did him no good to have magic anywhere but in his horn. Even the most basic spell was an intense uphill struggle. Meanwhile everything came easy to Adorabelle, what with her impeccable breeding and all. It wasn’t politically correct anymore to talk about genetics as if they were destiny, but Violet Edge knew better than to think you could just ignore science. “Y-you’ll get it someday, Mister Edge!” Gumshoe said. “Shut up,” Violet Edge muttered. Adorabelle was already on the wrap-around porch. Before she could bang on the door, her attention was attracted by the natural wood porch swing dangling nearby. She swished her tail and hopped over to look at it. “Don’t use someone else’s porch swing!” Violet Edge shouted, running up to the porch steps. “I’m not. But, like, aren’t these the cutest throw pillows?” Adorabelle picked up a round cream colored one in her telekinetic grip. The phrase “Industry is its own reward” was embroidered onto it in lavender thread, with buttons dotting the ‘i’s. “Don’t pick up other ponies’ throw pillows either!” Violet Edge batted the pillow out of the air back onto the porch swing. “You meanie; who has throw pillows that aren’t meant to be squooshed?” Adorabelle pouted. Gumshoe rapped on the door with his claws. Then his ears pricked up. “What do you hear?” Violet Edge asked. Eavesdropping wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t like Gumshoe had chosen to have dog ears. “Elderly mare, yelling something. Can’t make out what.” “Just as well.” Violet Edge shrugged. The curtain by the side of the window flickered. “She’s saying… ‘I’ll handle it, don’t- latches!’” The sound of several locks being undone was so loud even Violet Edge could hear it. The door snapped open to reveal an elderly mare. Her coat was a very pale pink, her mane iron grey and knotted in a tight bun. Her eyes matched her mane and studied Violet Edge coldly from behind half-moon glasses with a simple wire frame. Unlike every other pony they’d seen so far, this mare was wearing clothes. A very starchy white dress with faded blue flowers. The dress was obviously cheap material, but the buttons were another matter. Cerulean blue thread was woven around the buttons in an intricate pattern. Violet Edge wasn’t that familiar with fashion, but he knew that woven designs like those tended to be expensive heirloom items. The mare scanned the mismatched party and the corner of her mouth quirked briefly into an amused expression before returning to its solemn look. “Quite a motley crew, aren’t you?” Violet Edge bowed. “My name is Violet Edge; I’m a prosecutor from Canterlot.” “Aye? What’s a gentlestallion like you doing in our humble town? We thought you’d forgotten about us.” “We’re making inquiries regarding one Bright Innovation,” Violet Edge said. The old mare’s eyes widened. “Japers! Go slow now, youngfella; lot of long Canterlot talk you’ve got.” Violet Edge narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this the Dorset residence?” “This gaff, sure enough.” Violet Edge clenched his jaw in frustration. “Can I speak to someone in charge?” Someone who speaks proper Equish, preferably. “No johnny rey over this old mare.” She nodded sagely. And then Violet Edge remembered the other rumor about Lucktowners. No one ever wanted to have to negotiate with them. In folk tales and nationalist jokes they were always playing word games and head games to get their way, no matter how educated the other party was. Unfortunately Violet Edge didn’t have enough evidence to charge her with obstructing justice, because she could honestly just be doing this by accident… ...but something in her eyes left Violet Edge unconvinced. “OMP, I know who you are!” Adorabelle spun in a happy circle. “You’re Madame Dorset! Like, your buttons are, like, totes famous and expensive and stuff! I mean like, elite level stuff!” The elderly pony initially seemed taken aback by Adorabelle’s accent, but then smiled and nodded at the compliment. “Cute mot you got there, teasipper.” “Um… thanks.” Violet Edge hoped mot was a nice word. “You’re just the pony we need to interview then. Do you remember Bright Innovation?” “Oh yes; quite the gentlestallionly git, he was. What about him?” “It’s a long story; may we come inside?” Violet Edge asked. “Wasted little time asking for hospitality, now didn’t you?” Madame Dorset clicked her tongue. “The little sprogs are down for their kip; can’t have a small herd clomping about right now. Come back in an hour; we’re very crowded folks.” She shut their door in their faces. “Hey!” Gumshoe shouted. “Wow, how totes rude… at least I think she was? Could you understand her?” Adorabelle asked Violet Edge. Violet Edge was beginning to feel in over his head. Why hadn’t he waited to ask someone’s advice…? “Can I go… ask around after my brother… while you, um, investigate?” Lyra asked. The only thing worse than looking like a fool was looking like a fool in front of civillians. “You shouldn’t go wandering off in a town where ponies might disappear,” Violet Edge said. “But yes… maybe it’s best if we split up for now.” “Who are you going to take with you?” Adorabelle gave Violet Edge a lethal dose of puppy eyes. “Who gets to investigate with you?” Being a giant puppy at heart, Gumshoe was also a master of puppy eyes. “Give me a second.” Fortunately Violet Edge could close his own eyes. Once those stares weren’t visible he could make a logical decision. “Gumshoe… no one is better at searching than you.” Of the present company, excepting himself. “And I know you’ll do an outstanding job keeping Lyra safe.” And possibly driving away helpful witnesses. “You really mean it?” Gumshoe yipped with excitement. “I won’t let you down, sir! Come on Lyra!” Violet Edge opened his eyes and watched the pair run back into town. Then Adorabelle tacklehugged him. “Ack- Adora-!” She squeed shrilly right in his ear. Violet Edge yelped in pain and Adorabelle leapt back. “OMP, I’m sorry! I’m just so happy!” “Oh, I couldn’t tell,” Violet Edge muttered. “All right, this is serious business. You know the Dorset family?” “I mean, like, not KNOW know them, but like sure, I know about them a little.” Adorabelle shrugged. “That might have been nice to know before we came…” Violet Edge said. “We were busy with Lyra; I’m totes sorry though. Anyway, like, it didn’t click for me until I saw her and the buttons and stuff.” “...You knew we were investigating an accident with a button seller… and you didn’t make the connection until just now?” Violet Edge asked. “Ehehe, whoops.” Adorabelle grinned sheepishly. Violet Edge’s head was feeling better by now, so he went through with that facehoof. “Well, like, sorry, but I remember now!” Adorabelle swished her tail. “So, like, they’re the richest family in Lucktown I think because they make buttons Canterlot loves buying. Oh, and, um… there’s more of them. I don’t remember how many. I think, like, her daughter designs everything and there’s, like, one more that’s a salespony or something… but also they’re, like, local philanthropists I think. This house isn’t just a manor; it’s an orphanage.” “I see.” That certainly explained the playground equipment… but where were all the children? Violet Edge brushed it off; probably not important. “So Bright Innovation not only had a meeting with these ponies that went very badly… But he and his team were working on a machine to mass produce buttons. Which gives the Dorsets a very strong motive to make trouble for Innovation… but on the other hoof…” “...it, like, also gives a motive to the whole town, right?” Adorabelle asked. “Because, like, these ponies have nothing but the Dorsets have and share everything.” “Well, they don’t seem to be sharing very liberally…” Violet Edge studied the Dorsets’ giant manor and reflected on the nigh uninhabitable structures they’d seen elsewhere in town. “But motive is only a small piece of the puzzle. How would respectable Lucktowners get voodoo dolls?” “Hmmmmm…” Adorabelle furrowed her brow in concentration. “I don’t think we’ll be getting any answers here,” Violet Edge said. “Let’s head back into town and ask about the dolls instead.” “And, like, hopefully find a translator…” Adorabelle muttered.
United by the Truth“...and he has a cutie mark of a simplified family tree.” Lyra swished her tail hopefully. The pony behind the general store counter shrugged lazily, going back to filling out his accounting book. “Never out of my store. No teasipper’s stopped here in years.” At least he didn’t seem hostile to even being talked to like the others they’d asked so far. “Thanks anyway…” Lyra gave Gumshoe a mournful look over her shoulder. Gumshoe pushed forward. “You haven’t heard anything at all?” The brown stallion looked up in tired annoyance. “I haven’t got a baldy.” Lyra turned to study the shelves to try and stop the tears from showing. There was more empty space than product, and nothing seemed very well sorted. Dusty apples were tucked in random corners; a few sacks of feed slumped on the floor. A couple rusty farm tools were scattered along one back wall. Nothing had a price tag and the pony behind the desk didn’t have a cash register. Then Lyra spotted something familiar. “Is… is that St. Megan’s knot?” Lyra pointed at a ribbon tied around a nail in a window frame; from it dangled a length of yellow braided flax. The brown stallion looked up in surprise. “You’re familiar with the legends?” “Oh, my, yes.” Lyra felt almost giddy. “All of us attended church every Sunday. St. Megan is my hero!” “Never thought I’d meet a teasipper of the faith.” The stallion whistled. “Your brother was one also?” Lyra nodded. “Ah… then maybe you’d best try the chapel up the street; turn left at the Ponder Pine and past the blacksmith’s. Perhaps he met with Pastor Quiet.” “Thank you!” Lyra beamed. *** “Bright Innovation! He was here just the other day. You didn’t hear anything about an outsider visiting?” The two teenage mares shook their head and went back to scrubbing clothes. But something about they way they tittered made it obvious to Violet Edge they were snubbing him. Violet Edge stomped his hoof in frustration. “Why is no one taking this seriously!? I don’t care if you hate Canterlot; a pony nearly died! Why do none of you care?” One of the mares just rolled her eyes. “Sounds like your problem. Bite the backs of our haunches, you old teasipper.” “I’m in my twenties! My mane’s just grey naturally!” That set the two into hysterics. “Forget it…” Adorabelle muttered to him. “Like, surely somepony will, like, I dunno… hey, a gesturing pony!” The periwinkle unicorn gave a whiny of excitement as she galloped across the street to a small shack. “What- where?” Violet Edge cantered after her. The shack looked like someone had borrowed pieces of wall from other houses and leaned them against each other. If not for the very elaborate, but rather wild, patches of flowers around the shack but nowhere else, Violet Edge might think it was a shed for farm tools. But something about the violets and morning glories spoke of a certain kind of overzealous, untidy care. “Don’t just be gawking; you wanted information right?” Violet Edge tore his attention away from the flowers to see a middle-aged mare in the doorway. Her coat and mane were pale grey and her cutie mark was an outline of some daisies- No. This wasn’t natural color. This pony was desaturated. Violet Edge swallowed. “Are… are you…?” “You’ll pardon my appearance.” The mare waved vaguely at the flowers in the yard. “So many little things to take care of…” Violet Edge now regarded the abundance of blooms with some dismay. He’d never seen an earth pony overextend their magic in pony before. “Canterlot finally sent someone after the Dorsets?” the mare snapped. Violet Edge’s eyebrow cocked. “Why would you assume that?” “You’ve met the new boss? Same as the old boss. ‘Cept she lives next to us and can see us suffer and still a heart of iron.” The mare seized Violet Edge’s cravat in her teeth and dragged him inside. Violet Edge stifled a complaint about the expensive silk his cravat was made from. This was the first pony who’d really talked to him so far and it wouldn’t pay to interrupt her. The shack was one room with a fireplace in one corner and a nearly empty barrel of oats in another. The mare’s earthly possessions seemed to consist of a kettle, two bowls, two bedrolls, and a small locked chest. Herbs were drying on the ceiling. “Eyes and ears all over,” the mare whispered. “That gang of thugs Madame sends around act rowdy in the open but they know how to be sneaky, oh yes.” Violet Edge wondered at the mare’s sanity. “Is your husband coming home soon?” The mare shook her head. “Gone to a better home long ago. His pine has many rings.” Violet Edge folded back his ears. He was familiar with earth pony burial rites, and how they would choose a tree or bush to be planted on top of their grave. His own father had chosen dogwood. “I’m… sorry for your loss.” “No one has anything to be sorry for there. Not like with my son.” The mare’s tone turned bitter. Violet Edge pricked his ears forward. “Your son?” “Oh, like, that’s why everything comes in twos but half of everything is dusty?” Adorabelle waved her hoof around the cabin. “...Congrats, Sure Lock,” Violet Edge said. “Aw, thank you!” Adorabelle beamed, either not noticing the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. “Hyote was all I had left in this world,” the Lucktown mare continued. “And those conniving Dorsets want me to believe he went off and joined a gang of blackguards? Oh, no! My son loved his trick-acting, but he wasn’t a bad egg by no means; he always took care of his ma and saw we were well fed.” “Maybe slow down and tell us what happened?” Violet Edge asked. “We never even asked your name…” Adorabelle muttered. The mare closed her eyes. “Ah… beg your pardon. It’s just been a long time since… anypony listened…” A shiver went through her body and she sat down. “It’s okay; I can tell this is very hard for you.” Violet Edge sat down across from her. “Take as long as you need.” “Thank you.” The mare heaved a long sigh. “I’m called Flower Seed. My son Hyote is just about her age.” She gestured to Adorabelle, who sat next to Violet Edge. Adorabelle and Violet Edge were the same age but at least she hadn’t missguessed Violet Edge’s age out loud. “The Dorsets’ youngest member is one of Lucktown’s corner boys, Russel Dorset.” “What’s a corner boy?” Adorabelle swished her tail. “Young dossers.” Flower Seed cocked her head; when Adorabelle continued to wear a blank expression, she tried again. “Useless layabouts?” “Oh, those words I know!” Adorabelle nodded. Violet Edge was glad one of them was willing to look stupid. “Russel and Hyote both had eyes for the same bird, Rain Dance.” “They were fighting over a… pet?” Violet Edge asked. “Is that what you call them in Canterlot?” Flower Seed shrugged. Violet Edge ground his teeth in frustration. “Call what?” “Pretty young lass.” “LOL! No!” Adorabelle giggled. “Oh wow, you didn’t mean an actual bird? That’s so funny!” Flower Seed gave Adorabelle a polite smile. “Knock it off!” Violet Edge shouted at her. He turned back to Flower Seed. “Please keep going, and… to try and prevent interruptions, try your hardest to use plain language, please?” Flower Seed huffed a little at the request. “Rain Dance wouldn’t make up her mind and kept going back and forth between Russel and Hyote until… one day Hyote was there. The next he wasn’t. Every other Lucktowner shrugged it off; said he’d probably wandered off and he’d be back later. Said I was uselessly hysterical. Well now it’s been weeks and still no one does a thing, because they’d have to admit the pony who’s responsible is that young member of the family whose hooves everyone kisses!” Flower Seed stomped her hoof at the end. “That’s horrible!” Adorabelle flung her hooves around Flower Seed’s neck. Violet Edge tried to keep his expression neutral because it wouldn’t be polite to critique this mare’s story if it was true. But he had to stay impartial, and right now he had no evidence that any foul play had happened but a grieving mother’s assurances. Also, while a story of a young stallion disappearing matched with Lyra’s suspicions, it had nothing to do with the crime Violet Edge was investigating. As satisfying as it would be to stop any crime he happened across, Bright Innovation and his partners deserved answers. “Aside from motive, do you have a reason to suspect the Dorsets?” Violet Edge asked. “What are you on about?” Flower Seed snarled. Maybe he should switch to a more neutral tack. “I mean… can you describe how your son’s disappearance came about?” “There’s nothing. To. Say.” Flower Seed’s face contorted in pain. “One day he was out and about town like normal. Then he didn’t come home for supper. Didn’t sleep in his bed. Didn’t greet me in the morning.” “So… no one saw or heard anything of him at all after that?” Violet Edge cocked his head. “You don’t believe me either.” “I didn’t-” Flower Seed rammed into Violet Edge’s shoulder. “Get out, you useless gemhead!” “No!” Adorabelle wailed. “Please don’t be mad at him because he’s clueless!” “What?” Violet Edge shouted. But Flower Seed backed off, still glaring at Violet Edge. “What’s a sweet girl like you see in him?” she asked Adorabelle. “Eheheh.” Adorabelle shrugged. “I couldn’t leave him by himself, could I?” “Hey!” Violet Edge said. “Ha, no lass, guess not.” Flower Seed smirked wryly. Adorabelle giggled nervously. “But like… I think what Edgy meant to say is, have the Dorsets done any other bad stuff?” “Oh, my son isn’t the first disappearance they’ve had a hoof in,” Flower Seed scoffed. “Sure as nopony’s sad that gang of brigands aren’t around anymore, and pleased enough the Dorsets were to take credit for that. But if you’d been to the chapel and asked pointedly enough, Pastor Quiet would have a story for you…” *** Like the Dorset’s manor, Lucktown’s chapel showed signs of being cared for despite the villagers’ meager resources. The brass cross on the roof was polished until it gleamed, and the windows were real stained glass pictures. Half were of St. Megan’s adventures, but a few dared to depict the god St. Megan had taught her little ponies to follow, the half-human half-god Jesus. They were much more generic than St. Megan’s windows and mostly just showed a human with brown hair with a halo around his head, or praying, or on a cross. “Jesus is the god they worshipped in the kingdom of Texas, where St. Megan came from,” Lyra explained as she and Gumshoe approached the building. “I don’t know if you had followers of St. Megan in Manehattan…” “Adorabelle explained it to me after we met,” Gumshoe said. “Right… it’s weird to think of you and my classmate working together, since this is the first time I met you.” Lyra paused to study a picture of St. Megan holding up the rainbow of light. “Looks like they haven’t gotten a new picture of her most recent visit…” “Apparently Violet Edge’s father was a follower of St. Megan too,” Gumshoe said. “Really? I’ve never seen Violet Edge in church though…” Lyra glanced over her shoulder. “Do you… know why?” Gumshoe shrugged. “His guardian is a very devout Karmite, but I don’t think Violet Edge is one of those, either…” Lyra looked thoughtful. “Maybe… I’ll ask Adorabelle later…” The mint mare shook her head and pushed open the chapel door. The chapel’s wooden floor was well worn by many hooves; the pews were simple wooden, but solid construction. In fact a lot of them didn’t exactly match in style or apparent age; perhaps the parishioners constantly replaced them in lieu of money to give. The scent of incense was so heavy in the air that it made Lyra cough. Gumshoe sneezed. “Smells like Perfect Karma’s clothes.” Lyra grinned sheepishly. “Yeah… early Christian ponies integrated elements of their native Karmite religion. Incense is one of those traditions. Not that my church uses it but I don’t think it’s a salvation-threatening manner.” A thump came from the front of the church. “I’ll be right out!” somepony called. The front had a simple wooden pulpit with a giant bark-bound Bible on top, its cover embossed with gemstones. “Those gems are probably enchanted with preservation spells,” Lyra said, nodding at the gems. “Before the printing press Bibles were reproduced very ceremonially; a pegasus had to provide the quills, an earth pony the bark, and a unicorn the enchanted gems, because no one race was better than the others in the eyes of God or St. Megan. This was revolutionary at the time since early G1 religions…” she noticed Gumshoe’s eyes glazing over. “Err… am I going too fast?” “N-no, I’m just…. That’s all way over my head, pal.” Gumshoe gave Lyra a puppy dog look. “I’m sorry…” “You… aren’t from Lucktown.” Lyra and Gumshoe turned to see a stallion in black and white robes had joined them. He was slate blue and a small pair of glasses perched on his nose. All his accoutrements made him look old, but judging from his face he couldn’t have been over thirty. “N-no; my name is Lyra Heartstrings.” Lyra held out her hoof. “I’m looking for my brother… Tree Trace.” Pastor Quiet squeaked in surprise. “Oh. F-fancy that. Why are you… why are you looking for a unicorn in an earth pony town?” Lyra narrowed her eyes. “Why did you assume he was a unicorn?” “I mean you’re one!” Pastor Quiet slid back. “Look, I wish you good luck, but I have studies to get back to…” “You get back here pal!” Gumshoe barked. Pastor Quiet turned tail to run, but Gumshoe bounded over the pony’s head in a feat of athletics that left Lyra stunned. Gumshoe growled at the pastor, who jumped back. “Please don’t hurt me!” Pastor Quiet dropped to the floor and put his hooves over his head and lay there, shaking. “Make the monster go away!” Gumshoe stopped growling and looked hurt. Lyra ignored this and pressed on. “You’re hiding something! Spit it out!” “I can’t tell you anything!” the pastor protested. “Well then, maybe I can.” Gumshoe and Lyra looked to the front of the church and saw Violet Edge and Adorabelle walking up the aisle. *** “Oooh, that entrance was so dramatic!” Adorabelle squealed in Violet Edge’s ear. “Shush.” Violet Edge made it to the front of the church. Addressing the cowering pastor, he said, “We’ve just come from visiting Flower Seed. She told us that there used to be a mortician that worked here, in the cemetery attached to your church.” Pastor Quiet stopped shaking, but didn’t stand up. He looked miserable. “But one day, the mortician admitted to… disrespecting the dead.” Violet Edge actually hadn’t been able to get Flower Seed to spit out what exactly had been happening except in manners laden with local euphemisms. All he’d been able to determine was that it wasn’t necrophilia. “The next day, he was nowhere to be found. Some think he just snuck away in shame, but Flower Seed thinks you know more than you’ve let the public know…” “That’s not true!” Pastor Quiet whimpered. “Switchblade didn’t work for me anyway-” “Your mortician was named Switchblade?” Lyra looked alarmed. "What was wrong with his parents!?" Pastor Quiet winced. “S-sorry, it’s a nickname that just… slipped out.” That didn't seem to reassure Lyra at all. Violet Edge glared down at the cowering stallion, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Is my brother… did the same thing happen to him as your mortician?” Lyra leaned closer. “Please… my brother didn’t do anything wrong! He… he just wanted to surprise me and he…” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t even know if he’s alive or…. Or…” Pain flashed across Pastor Quiet’s face as he watched Lyra cry. Slowly he stood up. “I… I’ve been a weak stallion…” he muttered. Violet Edge bit back a comment. Pastor Quiet’s breathing was quicker. “I’m an outsider in this town myself, you have to understand- the elderly pastor everyone in town respected sent to a mission school asking for a replacement and I was looking for a flock to lead, and I thought everything was fine, but before long…” He shook his head. “I have sinned… and feared the opinion of ponies rather than God…” “Can’t you help us?” Lyra put a hoof on his shoulder. Pastor Quiet shook his head. “I really have nothing. Only suspicions. The Dorsets always told me I shouldn’t search too hard for Sw- for Earth Turner. Said I might only find trouble. And when… when that nice Canterlot unicorn never attended service like he told me he planned to..” “You saw my brother?” Lyra leaned closer, her eyes wide. “He was here?” Pastor Quiet hesitated, then nodded. “He s-said he was here because of suspicions that his family might date back to this village, in a way… that he was going to ask questions around town. But I never saw him after we first met, and when I asked… nopony cared. Said he probably brought trouble on himself by being nosy…” He shuddered. “No!” Lyra shook her head. “Oh no, please no, please…!” Adorabelle pulled Lyra into a hug. Violet Edge took a step closer to the pastor. “And that’s honestly, truly all you know?” Violet Edge pressed. Pastor Quiet bit his lip. “There’s one thing… I don’t know if it’s related…” “Any bit helps,” Violet Edge reassured him. Anything about this town at all, really. “The Dorsets are well-respected for using their manor to house the various orphans and abandoned children of Lucktown, but it’s… common knowledge that no one talks about that, ah… it’s not exactly pure altruism.” Pastor Quiet coughed. “That is, the Dorsets are, of course, respected button makers, but there’s only four adults in that house, and one is always in bed… they’re far more productive than you’d normally expect, so, um…” “Child labor.” Violet Edge seethed internally. “Everypony knows and nopony has done a thing to stop it?” “Well no one knows how much!” Pastor Quiet protested, waving a hoof. “After all, all children used to work on their parents’ farms- nothing wrong about that!” Violet Edge felt his face harden and turned away to show he wasn’t mad at Pastor Quiet. This town was backwards culturally from the rest of Equestria; it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at any one pony. But this appalled him. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” Gumshoe said. “Do you make voodoo dolls here?” “No!” shouted everypony in the room. “That’s a zebra practice!” Violet Edge snapped. “Why can’t you go five minutes without embarrassing yourself, detective?” Gumshoe looked hurt. “You’re looking for zebra heathens?” Pastor Quiet’s ears pricked up. Violet Edge frowned. “That’s a very strong phrase.” “But we have a colony living on the outskirts of town!” Pastor Quiet looked excited. “If you think they’re the troublemakers after all…!” Violet Edge didn’t appreciate the pastor’s excited expression, partly because he wasn’t sure if it was born of pure racism, or if the pastor was just relieved the Dorsets might not be involved and he might not have done anything wrong by ignoring the obviously evil ponies running Lucktown. But he was desperate for leads. “What is a zebra herd doing in the middle of Equestria?” “The gypsies were a wandering tribe; they landed here after everypony kicked them out.” Pastor Quiet shuffled his hooves awkwardly. “They brought demonic healing magic with them, and I did my best to admonish them to stay on the path St. Megan laid out for us and trust in God… but… well, Canterlot did stop providing healthcare for them…” “Understood.” Violet Edge could care less about ponies failing to uphold someone else’s scruples, and he could barely keep the disdain out of his voice. “Where is this colony then?” Pastor Quiet grabbed a piece of paper from the lectern and started making a crude map on the back of it. Violet Edge glanced at Lyra. “You ready to keep investigating?” Lyra shook her head. “I can’t… I… I’m scared…” Violet Edge placed a hoof on Lyra’s shoulder. “I think you’ll find… the best thing will be to know the truth. Wherever it takes us.”
Strangers in a Strange LandThe zebra camp outside of Lucktown honestly looked better kept than the town proper. Their wagons were brightly and freshly painted with stylized flowers and birds. In between the wagons were strings of colorful banners- no, on second glance they were just clotheslines, draped with tie-dyed material. Zebras were swarming around a boiling cauldron dipping in cloth to wash; children ran around splashing in soapy puddles. It looked like a communal laundry day. Violet Edge felt a similar twist of not belonging that he felt when he arrived at Lucktown. But this was different. Because all the zebras had bright smiles on their faces. Some children ran up to him chasing a bunny. When they saw the small party of ponies, they stopped cold and backed off. A zebra filly shouted over her shoulder, “Mabhiza!” As one the zebra tribe turned to look at Violet Edge and his motley crew. A few stopped working, but most kept on, as if trying to prove the presence of strangers didn’t really bother them. Violet Edge suddenly worried that strange slang words might be the least of his problems. A strong young zebra stallion handed the scrub brush in his hooves to the mare next to him, then approached the party. “Hello there; I see you’re not from Lucktown.” Violet Edge blinked. He hadn’t expected such perfect grammar. “Oh sorry, do you not speak this language?” The zebra punched Violet Edge in the shoulder and threw his head back in a wild laugh. “Ahaha, I’m messing with you. I was born in this forest; we’ve been here a long time.” “Really?” Violet Edge raised an eyebrow. “Indeed; Wuchenjeri taught us that we must move when we are driven, but no one in Lucktown seems in a hurry to drive us out.” The zebra stuck out his hoof. “I am Vakashinga; what brings you to our home?” Everyzebra was so happy and nice looking and Violet Edge didn’t know how to ask the pertinent question. “Do you guys, like, make voodoo dolls here?” Adorabelle piped up. That solved it. Vakashinga’s expression was blank. “Voo.. do? Sorry?” Violet Edge gritted his teeth. “They’re… um… a work of black, uh, zebra magic that we’re trying to trace the… source… of…” Vakashinga’s countenance darkened. “I don’t know what you expected to find here, but we have nothing to do with black magic. Our tribe’s been through enough; find another zebra herd to harass.” “It’s not like that!” Maybe Violet Edge could salvage this. “It’s just that we know for sure the dolls came from Lucktown and no one in the town is willing to talk to us…!” Vakashinga was still glaring. “I have no idea what dolls you’re talking about.” He slowly breathed in and out, then forced a smile onto his face. “But try Nhoroondo; she’s the lore-keeper. If there’s some… distant dark legend buried deep in our past before any of us were even a twinkle in the gods’ eyes…Nhoroondo would know it. She’s in the wagon with bulbadews on it.” “Thank you for understanding.” Violet Edge bowed. “Don’t mention it.” Vakashinga turned back to the mare he’d been with before. The four ponies made their way to the indicated wagon; Violet Edge tried to ignore the angry stares. “That was... unfortunate,” Lyra commented. “I’m sorreeeee,” Adorabelle whined. Violet Edge sighed. “We had to ask sometime; we’re not here for pleasant reasons.” Violet Edge climbed up on the tree stump by the wagon’s beaded curtain entrance. He knocked on the wood on the wagon side. A choked sort of laugh came from inside. “You silly ponies. Ring the curtain.” Violet Edge studied the beaded curtain, then, feeling like a dope, he randomly waggled some of the strings. The beads clicked together, making pleasing rhythms. “Come in, come in!” the voice they’d heard before said. Violet Edge pushed the curtain aside and stepped up into the wagon. The walls were covered in tiny torches the size of candles, glowing with purple flames; the floor of the wagon was carpeted with dried flowers. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling. The room was clearly only half the size that the wagon was outside; another beaded curtain was on the far wall, probably leading to sleeping quarters. This room looked like a receiving room/kitchen, with clay jars along one wall and an iron pot with contents that appeared to be bubbling, despite not being above a flame Violet Edge could see. There was also a low table on a thick plush rug. A zebra mare with a long mane in a strange fluffy bun was sitting at the table, grinding something in a mortar. She looked up and her mouth formed an O. “I’ve gone to see unicorns, but this is the first time one has come to see me.” She beckoned Violet Edge closer. Violet Edge approached carefully. “And how about diamond dogs?” Gumshoe leapt through the curtain and skittered on the floor, his claws clacking on the slippery wood as he slid next to Violet Edge. The mare’s eyes sparkled. “We wandered in the mountains when I was young, though you are the sweetest smelling of your kind I’ve ever met.” “Thanks…?” Gumshoe tilted his head. Lyra and Adorabelle sat behind Violet Edge. “Quiet the party you have here. What makes such a prestigious group seek out poor old Nhoroondo?” “Vakashinga sent us here.” Violet Edge glanced at Adorabelle, who looked ashamed and did a lip-sealing motion. “My name is Violet Edge; this is Lyra Heartstrings, Adorabelle, and Gumshoe. We are from Canterlot law enforcement. We traced a certain… kind of dolls from this town, Lucktown.” He paused. “Understand, I don’t mean to accuse you or your tribe of anything without evidence, but I’m required to follow every lead I have.” Nhoroondo narrowed her eyes. “Go on.” “Have you… ever heard of voodoo dolls?” Nhoroondo rocked back on her haunches and stared at the ceiling. “Can you explain the purpose of these dolls?” Violet Edge nodded. “They’re works of black magic that are made to resemble a particular pony, and when harm is done to the doll… harm is done to the pony” “Ah, those.” Nhoroondo closed her eyes. “Long ago, when our tribe broke off from our warlike parent tribe to follow the peaceful ways of Wuchenjeri, we wandered through the Zebrica plains. There is a story told of another zebra tribe we met and narrowly escaped from, a tribe lead by a monster who kept his subjects prisoners with demonic dolls. That was the Voodoo tribe; we observed there would be no peace for us if we stayed in their territory and made our escape.” “How long ago was this?” Violet Edge asked. “My great-great-great grandfather was just a colt.” Nhoroondo smirked. “We have lorekeepers for a reason, so our tribe will have long memories, and so we never walk the same dangerous road twice.” “...oh… like, obviously not related to the crime today…” Adorabelle said. Violet Edge studied Nhoroondo’s face. She could easily be lying to protect the tribe. If only he could be certain… ...if only he had somepony who could tell him… But you threw that away, didn’t you? Violet Edge shook his head. “You didn’t… keep anything about how to make the dolls, right?” “No good could come of that!” Nhoroondo shuddered. “Did any of your tribe learn how to make dolls at the time, though?” Violet Edge pressed. Nhoroondo sighed. “...The herd moves as one and is remembered as one; I only know where we travelled, not what actions individuals took. But I will say, if anyzebra did learn and remember the method of making voodoo dolls, they never used that information.” Violet Edge’s shoulders slumped. “Well… thank you very much for your time.” Lyra pushed forward. “Do you remember another unicorn that visited almost a year ago? A mint green one like me?” Nhoroondo shook her head. “I would certainly keep record of something like that.” Lyra’s eyes started misting. “I've... been praying for any way to find my brother again, and... you’re just the kind of pony- of zebra he would have liked. He could listen to stories about history for hours, and his eyes would shine with wonder…” Nhoroondo set her pestle gently on the table and stood up. She came over to Lyra and gently placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I could not help you more.” “Maybe…” Lyra sniffled and forced a smile. “No one in Lucktown is willing to talk to us… would they talk to you?” Nhoroondo rolled her eyes. “Any exchange of culture is repulsive to them. They come in secretive groups to consult Poresa, the tribe’s healer- nothing more.” She paused. “That’s not strictly true. There… there was one. My former apprentice, Nyaya… she caught the eye of a stallion from Lucktown.” “Where is Nyaya?” Lyra asked. Nhoroondo’s smile was bitter. “Her spirit is forever at the party of the gods.” Lyra lowered her ears. “I… I’m sorry.” Nhoroondo waved her hoof dismissively. “We miss her, but we do not mourn; she had time to drink the Tea of Virtues, so she is in a happy place.” “She had what now?” Adorabelle asked. “What about her lover?” Violet Edge asked, cutting Adorabelle off. He didn’t want to waste time learning about religion. Nhoroondo’s expression grew steely. “He… tried to follow Nyaya. It’s… not my place to speculate if he made it or not, but the villagers… blame us… collectively.” “This place is miserable,” Adorabelle muttered. “Adorabelle!” Violet Edge snapped. “But it is!” Adorabelle wailed. “Everypony is mean and spiteful or starving and being kidnapped and dying and how can ponies live like this right next to Canterlot where everything’s so pretty and smart?” “You don’t get out of your gated community much do you?” Gumshoe asked. “You know what I meeeeean,” Adorabelle sniffled. Nhoroondo watched Adorabelle thoughtfully. “I do not know how much of a rush you are in… but I would like to invite you to our midday meal, if you’re willing.” Violet Edge shook his head. “We couldn’t impose…” “...could we?” Lyra asked Violet Edge. She sounded weary. The investigation was wearing down the two mares; Violet Edge supposed they could spare some time. Personally he was uncomfortable accepting charity, but Nhoroondo seemed genuine in her offer. Violet Edge nodded. “Fine then.” He swept a bow. “We would be honored to accept.” Nhoroondo chuckled. “Very well Violet Edge; I will introduce you to the others.” *** While some of the zebras were wary about the small party of ponies, Nhoroondo’s acceptance of them clearly carried a lot of weight. The tribe was all around more welcoming than Violet Edge had expected them to be, happy to smile and introduce themselves. Lunch was communal moss soup made in another cauldron that bubbled without flames. A smiling stallion ladled out servings first to all the children, then to the guests, then the tribe’s adults. Then everyone brought their meals to sit around colorful blankets spread on the grass. There was no silverware and everyone drank straight from their bowls. Gumshoe didn’t hesitate before lapping up his share, but the prim and proper Canterlot unicorns looked at each other for a while. All the other zebras were bending down to their bowls on the ground and gulping, so using telekinesis to lift the bowls to their mouths, which felt more natural, would be conspicuous. Violet Edge decided that being a gentlepony meant taking the same actions regardless of the situation and used telekinesis anyway; the mares copied the zebras at first, but Lyra switched back to taking sips. Or pretending to, anyway. The soup tasted like spicy dirt. Violet Edge swallowed his mouthful as fast as he could only for his stomach to protest at being used in such a cruel manner. “Well?” the zebra mare sitting across from Violet Edge asked, a mischevious grin on her face. “V-very… flavorful.” Violet Edge forced a smile. “It’s a little… strong,” Lyra said. “Yeah, isn’t it great!?” Gumshoe glanced up, the fur around his mouth turning a matted green. “Mmmm, I love it,” Adorabelle cooed. Some of the adults chuckled. “Just wait for the apprentices to bring the chingwa around,” the first mare to laugh at Violet Edge said with a wink. “It’s good for those with weak stomachs.” Violet Edge must have unconsciously given her a cold look, because her next laugh sounded nervous. A few minutes into the meal a dozen teenage zebras paraded out of one of the carts, balancing trays on their heads. The trays seemed to stay in place without them making any apparent effort to hold their heads level. One went to each blanket and knelt in the center to let the dining ponies to reach. On each tray was a warm brown loaf of dense, earthy-smelling bread. At each blanket every zebra turned to look at one of the oldest zebras in their group. At Violet Edge’s blanket it was Nhoroondo. Nhoroondo and the other older zebras stood up and swished their hooves over the loaves, and they fell into neatly cut slices. Adorabelle gasped and clapped her hooves. “It’s like a magic trick!” “It is magic,” Nhoroondo said with a smile as she sat back down. Violet Edge had once gotten a book on zebra magic from the Gifted Unicorn Academy library but ultimately found it too confusing; nopony had ever made a thorough study of zebras from a unicorn’s perspective on magic, and zebras didn’t know how to explain their own magic in terms that meant anything to ponies. The oversimplified version he came away with was that while unicorns worked spectacular effects but then were tired out, zebras could do little, menial things without limit. Violet Edge waited until all the zebras took a slice of bread, then levitated a slice of bread to his mouth and took a small bite. It also tasted like dirt. At least this dirt wasn’t spicy. The texture felt oddly spongy. “If you don’t mind me asking…” Violet Edge said. “Go on,” the mare who kept talking to Violet Edge said. “...You don’t have familiar ingredients that grow here, right? How does this compare to what you usually eat?” The mare chuckled. “Chingwa is whatever makes a suitable dough, water, and a little cooking magic.” “Wow, no yeast?” Adorabelle took a huge bite of bread. “That’s what we were practicing today,” the apprentice holding the plate of bread said. “You guys are so cool~” Adorabelle finished the rest of her bread in two bites. Lyra and Violet Edge exchanged sheepish looks. Though they didn’t know each other as well as they each new Adorabelle, the look was all they needed to express understanding… that Adorabelle had no idea how condescending she was sounding, and nothing good would come of pointing it out. “What grain do you have… here?” Violet Edge asked. “Before we could buy potatoes from Lucktown in exchange for charms,” the mare said. “Now they will not talk to us, so we’ve been using swamp grass.” Violet Edge tried to keep from throwing up. The zebra mare tittered at him again. Violet Edge was done being the center of attention and settled into passively listening while he attempted to eat a polite quantity of food. The swampy bread did help the pain from the spice; so did the fruity milk drink the apprentices brought at the end of the meal (with a note of explanation that turning water to milk was also part of their training). Adorabelle of course continued chatting obliviously about anything that caught her eye, from clothing to the construction of wagons. When the apprentices were done serving food a number of the teenage males showed off their parlor tricks for her while she clapped in glee. Lyra and Nhoroondo talked about Tree Trace. Violet Edge wished she’d stop hurting herself. “Can I finish that for you?” Gumshoe poked at Violet Edge’s bowl. Violet Edge sighed. Well, he did hate wasting food. “Sure.” Gumshoe slurped the bowl clean while Violet Edge tried not to notice. The other zebras were having conversations sliding between Equish and their native zebra tongue. They seemed relatively comfortable having outsiders in their midst now. When the time seemed right, Violet Edge cut into the conversation Lyra and Nhoroondo were having. “Would it be improper for us to say goodbye now?” Nhoroondo shrugged. “We will be having our midday rest soon, so it’s probably for the best. Good luck on your journey, and I’m truly sorry I could not help you.” Violet Edge stood to leave, but as he looked at the tribe sitting together, something occurred to him and he turned back. “According to some of the Lucktowners who would talk to us, there’ve been several young stallions disappearing in the town, not just Tree Trace. Has anyzebra ever gone missing from your tribe?” Nhoroondo shook her head, then stopped, and her eyes widened. “Kusuwa…” Violet Edge’s ears swiveled forward. “That’s a member of your tribe?” Nhorooodo nodded. “I think… you should talk to him. He is in Poresa’s wagon; I will give you his midday meal. Tell them I sent you.” Violet Edge bowed his head. “Thank you very much.”
