The Shadow Over Equestria
Act Zero: The Overture - Chapter One
A light drizzle tapped against the glass of Canterlot's windows, adding a gentle sort of ambiance to an otherwise tense atmosphere. The castle had been in a strange state of flux over the past few weeks, with everything from the bustling of busy servants and bureaucrats to a more somber shuffle of ponies and things from place to place. All was not well in Equestria, and as the difficulties and strange occurrences began to mount, no one seemed ready or even able to provide an explanation for them, much less a solution.
The skies over the castle and surrounding town had been gray for the past week. Though efforts to clear the way for sunlight had been made several times, it always seemed that more clouds would drift in from the untended countryside within hours, rendering their efforts moot. Most had simply given up trying to create a sunny atmosphere. With all that was going on, it felt as though any weather except a constant, depressing rain would be unfitting. As Canterlot was an almost entirely urbanized with little need for agriculture, rainfall of such a consistent amount was something the residents inside the castle and out did not have the equipment to deal with, leaving a great deal of them walking through the falling wetness with nothing to protect the formal wear that was the fashion in the capital.
This fact would not be a deterrent to those had a job to do. Briskly moving through the courtyard of Canterlot Castle, a single roan-colored stallion passed by the guardians of his workplace with nothing more than a stiff nod. The guards did not make eye contact. They had no desire to meet the gaze of a low born who had no business joining their ranks. The roan stallion paid their subtle disrespect little heed. If there was something he was used to, it was the thinly veiled contempt his peers held for him.
Entering the lobby of the Coltland Yard headquarters, the stallion found himself an out of the way corner to shake his dripping coat and mane a bit dryer before moving towards the reception desk, giving the mare on duty a respectful nod before passing by. She made no effort to return the gesture, instead automatically greeting him with "Inspector White Wick." as he passed. Such was the scene from the first floor all the way to the fourth, the beautiful marbled corridors and stairs all serving to emphasize how out of place White Wick really was here. The tension of the world's demands was only compounded by the stallion's presence. His response was to simply ignore it. There was important work to be done here, and there was simply no time to waste on petty class biases.
The stallion pushed open the door to the Inspectorate, being greeted for the first time since his arrival by the turning of heads. Most simply looked away when they realized who had arrived. Some offered him the tiniest nods of acknowledgment. One scoffed audibly. Another grinned. And one circled around their desk to approach him.
"Looks like the candle maker finally decided to join us."
"Good afternoon to you too, Trace."
The roan stallion continued from the door down the aisle of cabinets and desks to the window at the end of the hall. He gazed out at the rainy courtyard he had just crossed over, spotting no other ponies trying to brave the rainfall. Behind him, his heckler trotted up to his side, a wry grin spread wide across her face. The stallion cocked an eyebrow to her, not entirely moving his gaze from the window. She said nothing to the questioning gesture, seemingly content with just staring at him. He tried to ignore her. He wasn't successful. With a sigh, he turned his full attention towards the pegasus.
"Yes, Trace? Can I help you?"
Trace fluttered her wings absently as her grin seemed to widen.
"You're looking a little damp, Inspector Wick. What happened?"
"I walked to work."
As if she had practiced it, the yellow pegasus burst into rancorous laughter. She cantered down the hall back towards her co-workers, several of whom were laughing alongside her. The stallion sighed deeply as he turned to the office door on his right, gently pushing his way in. He never did understand Inspector Trace's humor. Her “jokes” often made no sense to anyone but her. Wick was fairly sure that her sycophantic lackeys in the Pegasus Division only laughed with her because of the tantrum she'd throw if they didn't.
Closing the door behind him, White Wick mentally breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of cruel laughter was silenced. Here, in his little corner office of the Inspectorate, White Wick was as comfortable as he could get while on duty. He cast a sideways glance back to his flank, his cutie mark remaining a constant reminder of who he was and where he should be. The little candle sat as undeniable proof of his lineage, something to remind him that for all his successes, he would never be truly welcome in these walls.
But such thoughts could wait. There were much more important tasks to be done. Pushing his self doubt away, White Wick approached his desk, adorned only with a picture of his parents and a half-burned candle. It was simple, yes, but it was all he needed. Anything more would be a distraction. He tugged open the top drawer of his desk, fishing around inside with his hoof for the box of matches he kept on hand. Most of his earth pony colleagues had unicorn interns from the magic school across the courtyard for such tasks, but Wick had always refused the offer. As helpful as it would be to have some magic at his disposal, he couldn't justify having what he considered a servant just to perform simple tasks for him. It wasn't exactly easy work sliding the matchbox open and taking hold of a single slender stick between his teeth, but he managed. to do so all the same. A quick flick of the match across his desk ignited the tip, which he promptly set to his candle. It announced his presence in the office and helped to ward off the ever-present gloom that hung over the castle these days.
Before Wick could wave the flame out, there came a rapping on his door. Six carefully timed taps perfectly spaced from one another. He groaned inwardly as he went about the business of extinguishing the spent match and dropping it into the waste bin near the window.
"Come in, Torchlight."
The office door creaked open with painfully melodramatic slowness, revealing inch by inch the suitably warm smile of a mare the color of blue-hot fire. She stood silently in the doorway for a very carefully measured moment before stepping inside, marching to the opposite side of Wick's desk. There she stopped again, her smile inching away from warm towards predatory.
"You're late, Wick."
The stallion nodded to the mare as she leaned closer. "You're the second pony in about fifteen minutes to tell me that. Thank you for the insight."
"Always happy to help a colleague. Here."
Torchlight leaned her head towards the saddlebags draped across her back, pulling a rather hefty-looking dossier from the pouch. She promptly plopped it down on Wick's desk, giving everything on it a good rattle.
"More disappearances. Hardy wanted us all to read up on them before today's meeting. We've all finished reading it already."
The mare tilted her head, her smile having firmly shifted to smirk territory.
"I suggest you get your flank in gear if you want to be ready. Hardy doesn't wait for anypony."
"Thank you for that, Torchlight. You must be in a good mood today, handing out so much advice."
The blue pony offered a flourishing little bow. "I try."
And with that, she promptly spun on her hooves towards the door, the swipe of her tail extinguishing Wick's candle. She promptly sauntered out of the office, leaving the door ajar. Wick ground his teeth a moment, staring at the gap left by the other Inspector. One of these days, he was just going to scream. For now, though, he went through the effort of retrieving another match and relighting the candle. The smell of the freshly lit wood soothed whatever anger was threatening to swell in his chest. He tossed those feeling aside along with the second spent match and turned his attention to the dossier left on his desk.
He flipped the cover open and began to leaf through the pages. Pictures of the disappeared were pasted in the top right of each page, alongside long winded personal biographies and family histories. Details that made up most of the evidence available to an inspector starting their case. A unicorn missing in Manehattan, several earth ponies vanishing without a trace in Ponyville, a rash of pegasi somehow being snatched from their lofty homes. The stories seemed so similar, if it weren't for the fact that they were happening so far apart. It was obvious that the disappearances were not natural, but there was simply no way that a single pony could be masterminding it all, and any organization responsible would've been noticed by the Inspectorate ages ago.
The patter of rainfall on the window had turned into a full pounding as Wick turned through the last of the profiles. He could see no connections in the dossiers before him. No unifying factors. Nothing made them all fit together. Sure, there were some. The earth pony from Manehattan, Valencia Orange, was a member of the Apple family before her marriage. The Apple family, prolific as it was, had its roots in Ponyville. Ponyville was the site of several of the disappearances listed in this dossier. In the end, however, they were all circumstantial connections. The evidence and the facts simply didn't point to the Apple family being targeted. They just happened to have an absurd number of members scattered across the whole of Equestria.
White Wick flipped the dossier closed, again looking to the window. He propped his head up on a hoof, wishing the pegasi had not had their exodus. Without their constant maintenance of the weather, even the collective magic of the unicorns in Canterlot was insufficient to keep the skies clear for more than a day at a time. It was apparently an incredible strain for a unicorn to move a cloud, much less a whole sky full of them. He mused briefly why it was so easy for the pegasi to do it, but quickly discarded that thought. Each race had their talents and skills. Though his profession demanded he always be asking questions, he found that there were always a few exceptions that required no greater examination.
His musings were brought to an abrupt end when his candle once again was blown out. Turning his head, he found himself mere inches away from the ruffled coat of Inspector Trace, her aquamarine eyes catching his own in an unblinking stare. She did this far more often than Wick would've liked. The two ponies remained locked in an an impromptu staring contest until Wick decided to end the nonsense.
"Can I help y-"
"Shh!"
The pegasus held her gaze with Wick, who found himself slowly starting to frown. Trace's wings fluttered with restrained excitement as the contest dragged on. Wick was gradually coming to hate her little games, with rules only she seemed to know and goals that meant absolutely nothing. Wick's gaze turned to a glower as his patience for her nonsense wore through. Seconds from snapping at her, he blinked.
"Aha! That's what I thought, featherbrain! You could never hope to challenge me for my title!"
Wick took a deep breath. He would not be baited. He would not give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. He would remain professional, even if she could not.
"That's quite alright, Trace. I'm certain you deserve it more than I do."
"You're catching on, Lick."
White Wick slipped his box of matches back into his desk, still biting back a wave of retorts that surged up in his throat. And that nickname. By Celestia, Trace was absolutely insufferable.
"Did you have something you wanted, Inspector? Or were you just looking for conversation?"
"What? Oh. Yeah, Hardy's back from his meeting with the Princesses. He wanted me to get you for the briefing today."
Wick cocked his head. "Princesses? Chief Fact was meeting with them?"
Trace nodded absently, scuffing her hooves on the wooden floor.
"Yup. You'd know that if you were on time. Big day today, but I'm not exactly sure why yet."
"Well." Wick said, sliding the dossier towards the yellow pegasus. "Let's not keep the Chief waiting."
Trace nodded, immediately heading out the office door into the hallway. The sound of her hooves on the wooden floors quietly faded into the rainfall against his window, leaving White Wick alone once again, without any means of carrying the dossier on the disappearances with any dignity. He raised his hooves to his face. That scream was looking better and better.
