Ash and maple trees wove their branches together in a moth-eaten quilt that covered most of the night sky. Beyond their shield, the quarter moon hung on an azure tapestry, the darkness broken by small clusters of light. Under my hooves was a dense blanket of decaying leaves and twigs, still damp from the showers approximately thirteen hours previously.
My mane was knotted and ridden with debris, so much that the silver streaks could be considered at best a dull brown, but I couldn’t bother to care about such a frivolous matter. Though a limp severely hindered my procession, I continued to run. I had to.
The bandage around my front hoof was bloodied and threatened to fall off, and where the skin had been ripped away by claws, my flank burned. A few bruises decorated my coat, along with some scrapes, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins pushed my concerns to the back of my mind. My wounds were the least of my worries.
I had to escape, and fast. If I didn’t, well, I’d have rather not thought about it.
A buzzing sound filled the night air, one that eerily reminded me of a swarm of insects; one I’d grown quite accustomed to these past few weeks. But it wasn’t something I liked to hear. Whenever it came around, nothing good ever came from it.
As I forced my legs to pound the dirt, a shadow crossed over me, and in my path landed a silky black form, light shining through the holes in its legs. A pair of green eyes flashed in the darkness, far more familiar than any others of the creature’s kind, and I skidded to a stop, slipping once but avoiding a fall.
The being hissed as it flared its thin, fragile wings.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetie?”
_______________________________________________
Two months earlier
I glanced down at the paper in hoof. It was white, crisp white, with elegant calligraphy scribed from top to bottom. A signature, likely too unique to forge, was present in the lower left corner, accompanied by a small, golden seal of wax.
An official request for my presence in Canterlot castle, penned by the Princess of the Sun herself, was in my possession. And the castle grounds were as magnificent as I’d always imagined.
Six days had passed since the letter arrived via express mail. Though the message was cryptic and a bit sketchy in my opinion, I decided it was worth a shot. Even if it was a fake, at least I’d get to visit Canterlot and stay a while for once.
Sightseeing wasn’t high on my list of priorities, but hey, if I got the chance, I wasn’t going to pass it by.
At ten past eleven in the morning when the sun was beaming in the midst of a cloudless sky, I checked into my motel, a quaint place on the edge of the city boundary by the name of Récolte Inn, and dropped my suitcase off in the room. It was plain, walls painted a dull tan and adorned with a few poor recreations of Johooves Vermeer’s View of Delft and A Mare Writing. The art was shabby at best, strokes hasty and amateur.
Nothing more decorated the room than a bed whose frame was made of tarnished rowan, a nightstand to match, and a modest shelving unit with a single row of books whose spines were too faded to read. A pitiful balcony hid behind gaudy flower print curtains in an awful palette of pastel yellow and rose.
No, it wasn’t the nicest temporary residence, but I wasn’t exactly made of bits. And that never bothered me, not really; I worked for the thrill, not the money. Besides, I had better things to do other than admire the mediocrity that was my temporary hovel. The castle awaited my arrival. According to the letter, that is.
I was still a bit skeptical, and I had every right to be. One doesn’t just come by a letter from the princesses so casually, after all. But I prefered to give it the benefit of the doubt. After all, what was the point in quitting before the journey started? I couldn’t resist such a tempting opportunity, regardless if it was indeed a fake.
Before departing, I tugged on a blazer in a shade of navy blue—a few shades darker than my coat—slipping my wings through the slits. I wanted to look somewhat decent when meeting the rulers of my country, but I refused to wear some frivolous gown as some would suggest.
The streets of Canterlot were bustling, unicorns with their snouts at an 80 degree angle toward the sky as they purchased various goods. From carrots to fine jewelry, a wide range of items were available in the market and in the shops, but I tried to maneuver through the crowds without much hassle. It wasn’t easy, not with hagglers milling about.
I wasn’t there to shop or mingle, and quite frankly, the more ponies got in my way, the more aggravated I grew. My business was more important than whatever bartering some ponies were intent on imposing.
Up ahead, the castle loomed over the city, turrets high and mighty in the cloudless sky. To the east, the clock tower struck one in the afternoon. I was right on time.
One of the nearly-identical guards stopped me at the front gate, a tendon-rigged foreleg extended stiffly before me.
“State your business,” he demanded, his tone as monotonous as the others’.
I brandished the letter, waving it around with a steady hoof. “The Princesses have requested my services, sir.” The formality burned in my throat, but I figured it was best not to risk my chances of getting through.
A green aura enveloped the parchment as he lifted from my hold, and once he’d skimmed the contents, he returned it to me, a glimmer of confusion apparent in his eyes on his otherwise stoic face. I was pleased with my ability to draw some emotion out of him. “You’re clear to go. Shooting Star will escort you to the meeting hall.”
On cue, a handsome pegasus in the Royal Guard garb drifted down from his post in the sky, landing with grace. “Miss.”
I nodded curtly. “Sir.”
“This way.” Without another word, he trotted through the polished gates.
After offering a salute to the first guard, I followed closely behind Mr. Star, trying to keep my eyes focused ahead but failing. The castle was too marvelous—an architectural masterpiece—to ignore. Spiralling columns stretched to the cavernous ceiling where a mural depicting the fall of the Changelings—their primary fall, the one which occurred centuries ago—resided. Their fall was ancient history, something that’d occurred long before the boundaries of Equestria had been decided, so the story was all but lost in time.
Still, the art was incredible, considerably better than the paintings at my motel.
“So, Star,” I began, picking up the pace to walk beside him, “what brought you to this palace?”
“I’m loyal to our Princesses.”
I shot him a slanted look from the corners of my eyes. “Right. And you’ve been here for quite some time, hmm?” He responded with nothing more than a grunt. “Ah, a stallion of few words. Very nice.”
“Miss Eye—”
“Spyglass,” I cut in, not thinking the interruption through. But once I did think it through, I bulldozed on. “Call me Spyglass.”
He rolled his eyes: another rare display of emotion. “Spyglass, if you would be so considerate, kindly follow me in silence. None of the castle folk are in the mood to participate in any kind of tomfoolery.”
Now that caught my attention. Finally I received some information. “Oh? And why might that be?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied gruffly, clenching his teeth. “The Princesses will inform you should they feel it necessary.”
“Shouldn't I get some insight prior to speaking with the rulers of this land?” I countered, growing irritated. It wasn’t just for him to keep secrets from me, an investigator hired by the Princesses. Sure, he was sworn to protect the secrets of all Equestria, but I was there to help.
He shook his head. “No,” was the sole and final thing he said. With a huff, I decided against digging any deeper. It wasn’t worth it. I knew I’d figure out what the fuss was shortly.
After a few minutes of silence, Shooting Star, a scowl plastered on his features, thrust open a door that was at least ten times my height. Once I'd stepped inside, he slammed the door shut, leaving me alone in an empty hall.
Along the sides were enormous windows, each covered by a mural of stained glass that depicted a glorious victory for the Princesses’ champions. I walked down the center of the carpeted lane, admiring each window as I passed it. Discord and Nightmare Moon were among the villains shown facing their defeat. I paused before the one closest to the throne. The immortal ruler of the Changelings, Queen Chrysalis, reared on her hind legs at the top of the image, Princess Cadance and her husband—Shining Armor, if I recalled correctly—below, their combined power of love or some baloney proving to be the villainess’ downfall.
I was so enraptured in the picture, I didn't hear somepony appear behind me.
“It’s a tragic story,” a musical voice intoned, a sad lilt to it. Startled, I spun around, wings flared. Upon recognizing the pearly coat and shimmering mane, I dropped to the ground, hoping she wouldn't be offended by my blatant disrespect. To my surprise, she laughed. “You may rise, Private Eye.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Princess, I'd rather you address me as Spyglass,” I requested, folding my wings as tightly as I could against my back. “My other... clients... do, and it is much less formal.”
She smiled. “Of course, Spyglass, as you insist.” With an elegant sweep of her hoof, she motioned for me to follow her. “I’m pleased you arrived so promptly. I feared you would believe my request to be a hoax.”
Coughing to hide my embarrassment, I shook my head. “Oh, no, Princess. Of course not.”
“Good.” She turned to face me. “I’m afraid your visit isn't casual, dear Spyglass.”
“It never is when I’m called.”
A grim smile tugged at her lips. “I’m truly sorry for that. But I need your help.”
“We all do,” echoed a new voice. “I hope I am not intruding, dear sister.”
The elder princess smiled. “Of course not.”
Princess Luna drifted through the doorway to meet us, closing the doors via a shimmering aura with much more care than Mr. Star had. “Have you told her?” Celestia shook her head. “Perhaps it would be best to show her instead.”
“Nonsense.” Her response was sharp, but she recovered, holding her head high. “Such drastic manners are not necessary, dear sister. A story is all that is needed.”
Confused, I habitually raised my hoof. “Princesses, if I may, would you... um... consider informing me of the matter at hoof? ... Please.”
Eyes flickering briefly to me, Celestia sighed before allowing a smile to cross her features. “But of course. There is no point in keeping secrets when you are the only pony who can help us.”
“The only...” I began, swallowing hard before deciding it was best to listen rather than cut in like an ignorant school filly.
“You underestimate your abilities, but for the task which we wish to assign you, you must have complete faith in yourself,” Luna said, ascending the stairs to perch on the smaller of two thrones. Celestia soon followed, beckoning me to follow and rest at the base. “It is not an easy challenge.”
“I’m glad. Easy is boring.” My voice had lost all formality, and I cursed myself over and over for such inconsiderate behavior.
With a momentary grimace, Celestia sat on her haunches. “Please have a seat, Spyglass.” I immediately did as she instructed, hoping to, in some odd way, redeem myself. “I do hope you are as determined as you say. Our highest concern is that it will be far too dangerous.”
“Danger? Count me in,” I offered with a half-hearted smirk. The more solemn she grew, the more nervous I felt—and I hated feeling nervous. “Danger is my middle name. I eat danger for breakfast. Danger is afraid of me.” Oh, pony feathers, I’m blathering, I thought, desperately wanting to pound my face in with my hoof.
“Very well,” Celestia said despondently. Her horn began to glow a soft yellow, and between the thrones and myself, a shimmering screen appeared where what appeared to be giant slabs of crystal inhabited all dimensions. “Beneath this castle are the catacombs. Long ago, they were used as a high security prison, but over a short time, I realized it was unnecessary. We transformed it into vaults where we stored Equestria’s most valuable and most dangerous treasures. And there they lay for centuries, dormant and untouched.
“After the recent fiasco with Princess Cadence and Shining Armor, we decided that it was best to scout the catacombs just in case Chrysalis had been so vile to disturb the sanctity of the treasures. Unfortunately, she had been. She stole something incredibly powerful and terrible.” The screen flickered from the catacombs and instead displayed a gleaming cup of sorts, one that was embedded with glittering gems. “An enchanted chalice. There are many legends that surround it, but none are of importance right now. Just know that whoever has their hooves on this artifact should be regarded as deadly. And Chrysalis has stolen it right from under our noses.”
Lips set firmly, Luna cut in. “We need that chalice back at all costs. When in the wrong hooves, it can prove to bring devastation across the land. It happened once; we cannot afford to see it happen again. Surely you understand.”
“I do,” I said hesitantly, biting the inside of my cheek. “But what I don’t quite understand is how you expect me to retrieve this. I highly doubt I can write a strongly-worded letter to her in which I politely ask for a safe return of the chalice and have her willingly oblige."
The princesses exchanged a fathomless look, and when they turned back to face me, my heart sunk at the utter seriousness they both radiated.
Celestia rose, taking the steps one at a time—which was an agonizingly slow pace for me as I awaited her answer—until she stood before me. “My dear Spyglass, in order to complete this challenge, you must infiltrate the Changeling kingdom. It’s the only way. And you are the only pony who can.”
I stared at her in silence for a few seconds. She didn’t even blink. Looking at her this closely, I could note the almost-undetectable wrinkles that encased her eyes and the slightly darker color beneath them.
Slowly, I began to register what she had said.
And it finally sunk in.
I couldn’t show any fear, not with my reputation. Besides, what were a bunch of Changelings to a master detective like me?
Puffing out my chest, I met her dismal expression of sympathy with a smug grin. “You can count on me, Princess.”
A shallow exhale met my words, and she gave a relieved smile. “I knew you would be the right pony for the job. Thank you, Spyglass.”
An incredible surge of pride raced through me. I wasn’t going to let my princesses down. I couldn’t.
Yet no matter how confident I forced myself to sound and act, there was a nagging fear in the back of my mind. And frankly, I should have listened.
Author's Note
I meant to write this story long, long ago, but I've recently found new inspiration for it. Comments are very much appreciated. I hope to finish it (or nearly finish it) by the end of summer. :3
