Azure Nocturne was no stranger to the graveyard shift. In fact, she preferred it to the daily irritations of Brazen Heart's constant nagging and chatter. She was a dark, reddish-hued alicorn with a silver-white mane and tail of fine hair and flowing glossy length. Unlike the average buff grunt in Luna's employ, she had an air of grace uncommon to her station. Her hidden passion was the clarinet, but by the Royal Twins, she was favoured for her musical talents. Indeed, her cutie mark was that of shimmering notes, indicating that her power revolved around the manipulation of sound.
The Palace at night was boring, prime for reflection upon her favourite melodies. In six years since her promotion to palace guard, not a soul had been disturbed. Sleepwalkers and lost foals were a kind exception, and Azure was fond of them all. Criminals were a virtual unknown in Canterlot.
Was it not so long ago that Ponyville designer had made a spectacle of herself at the Gardens? Azure reflected on the event with fond amusement.
Striding the halls long ago memorized, Azure trotted through the garden walkway on a stone path laid with artistically arranged pieces. She often fancied the workponyship that had gone into its making. Tonight, the moon was exceptionally bright, and for a moment, she winced up at the mighty blue sphere in the heavens.
"You've outdone yourself tonight, Princess," Azure whispered as her vision cleared. Princess Luna's magic enhanced the subtly coloured surface of the moon. She continued, "You're in such good form. So joyous, my heart is lifted."
"Ah-huuuuh."
Azure spun, reverie shattered by the rasping moan of a filly reverberating down the hall to the gaping doors of the garden. Automatically, she spun and galloped toward the source, slowing as she neared where she thought it had originated. She raised her head and began to mutter a chant to aid in her search.
"Ah-huuuuh."
"Ah!" Azure leaped, heart pounding. "What was that? Oh, you silly filly. Get your hooves on the ground. Where did it come from?"
Azure clicked her hooves quickly but gently in the chase until she arrived in an unfamiliar hallway. At twenty feet, it ended with a sealed door clearly marked 'prohibited.' How many years had this been here, and she did not know every detail?
Strange.
Azure made a conscious effort to regulate her breathing. A thorough examination told her the door had not been disturbed, possibly not in many years. Something was most assuredly amiss, but she could not place a hoof on it.
"Ah-huuuuh."
Again? The sound was behind her, and she repeated her performance, this time regulating her speed so as not to frighten her quarry away. It paced her, several pony-lengths from her nose, and led her in a circle right back to the sealed door. There she stood, catching her breath, glaring at the wordless door-ward.
"You're Azure Nocturne, aren't you?" a warm voice said. "Is something the matter?"
Azure knew precisely the pony who addressed her: Twilight Sparkle, a purple, almost lavender-coated mare with a navy-blue and purple-striped mane and tail. She was a unicorn with the cutie mark of magic, one of Equestria's greatest champions.
"Ms. Sparkle. My humblest apologies. I did not wake you, did I?"
"Twilight, please. Oh, no, of course not," Twilight demurred with a chuckle. "I was just studying… but that's not important right now. Tell me what's happening."
"Ah, well. I was chasing a disembodied voice. It sounded that of a mare in distress-"
"Ah-huuuuh."
"That one? Yes. It's bizarre, alright. We had better alert Princess Luna," she decided, beginning to turn around. As she did, she bumped into something and gave a little squeak.
"Yes, you had best do that, Twilight Sparkle," Luna remarked with a slitted, superior grin.
"Oh, you're here…" she muttered, backing away from the slender yet formidable light-blue mare of the moon. She still makes me nervous! What power she has.
"Why would we not be? Our sister will not be disturbed," she declared, transparent mane swirling, glimmering with the stars that were her allies. "You will tell us."
"Ah-huuuuh."
"That," Twilight gasped, "is it. I've almost had it. It's getting creepier."
"You have no tolerance for the dark, student of Celestia," Luna remarked with the condescending arrogance that was her birthright. Twilight made eye contact with abrupt confidence.
"I want to know the truth," she declared stubbornly. "I am not afraid of the dark."
"Indeed," she drawled. "I am sure that you do. Azure, wake Brazen Heart. Search the grounds. Be swift," Luna ordered, and Twilight was impressed by the clarity and resolution in her eyes. "Twilight?"
"I'm sorry," she yawned. "I was so tired after that lecture on temporal magics … I was hoping Star Shifter's notes would bore me to sleep … oh! I'm sorry."
"Star Shifter is not the entertainer, Twilight," Luna chuckled modestly. "He is incomparable. He need not be both. Now you owe us a favor. Repay it. Assist us in putting an end to this mystery."
"Ah-huuuuh."
Twilight tensed, eyes wide, body arcing. She sighed and then rolled her eyes. "Oooh! What choice do I have? I'm not going to get any sleep with that sorrowful wailing going on!"
"Sorrowful? Yes, I must agree. Come now, for the hunt is on!"
Twilight noticed how quietly she spoke compared to her usual dramatic tenor. She wondered if Luna was also ill at ease. Minutes became hours, but the sound did not cease whilst the search wore on.
"Do not be ashamed, Twilight. We are grateful for your efforts," Luna recited in an official tone with sincere meaning. "Nopony is perfect. Let us put our minds to alternatives."
Twilight was not satisfied with this. "Alternatives? This makes no sense! A mysterious voice-"
"Ah-huuuuh."
"-and we're not even close to knowing anything about it. Ponyfeathers!"
Azure had another idea and received approval from Luna to offer it: "Twilight Sparkle. Do you know what echolocation is?"
Twilight's eyes whirled excitedly. "Ah, yes! A high pitched sound emitted from a single source and-"
"Quite," Luna interrupted seamlessly. "Azure, please hurry."
"Yes, Princess. Eh, I've taught myself how to use a magic version of echolocation to pinpoint audio sources. My sisters and I used to play hide-and-seek with it back home …" Her voice drifted away as nostalgia wafted over her face. "Oh! With your power, you could locate the source of that horrible voice."
"Do you think it will work?" Twilight asked, doing her best to ignore the voice, which, for some reason, made her skin crawl.
"You are a much greater practitioner of magic than I…"
"I suppose all I can do is try. All right. What do I do?"
"Oh, thank you, Twilight. The trick behind it is to create a tone with the same pitch as the … uh, pony you're looking for." Azure dipped her head so that her horn was even with her ears and closed her eyes. After a moment of concentration, her horn began to radiate a rose hue into an aura. An intense, clear tone energy projected forward and immediately reverberated from the wall to her ears.
Twilight shivered. It felt exactly like the haunting voice. "Owlicious would be proud. I can do that. I know I can." As she focused, Azure described the emotion and mental state necessary to perform the spell. Twilight's horn flashed to life.
"Ah-huuuuh."
"Aagh!" Twilight groaned in frustration. "There it is again!"
"Be careful, Twilight! It's a delicate spell!" Azure warned her.
"I know, I know. I just wish I could deduce the truth behind this mystery!" Instantly, the purple rays striking out from her horn faded, replaced by a far more intense flare of pure light. Azure watched in alarm as Twilight's erratic talent fixated on the unusual aspect of the spell.
It is the sound by which the spell functions, Azure had explained not minutes ago.
"What is happening, Azure?" Luna cried, hunkered down against the force of Twilight's magic.
"I'm not sure, but that's not my spell anymore!" Azure almost shouted over the overzealous energy.
Every stone in the courtyard was lit with the frantic manifestation of the young mare's incredible willpower. Luna grounded herself, prepared to take measures should things become dangerous.
Well, Tia, this elicits the most vibrant of memories, and Luna reflected this with irony. Just as she could no longer bear to look into the brilliant spectacle, there was a flash, and it was over. Twilight collapsed.
Luna started, lowering her horn as a warning to the pair of intruders, heaped upon each other like loose clothing. A cloud had passed over the moon, obscuring them from direct moonlight. They cursed and groaned in an attempt at disentanglement.
"Your scarf's 'round my leg!"
"Can't you tell your sleeve is over my head?" snapped back a muffled, very male baritone. "Now off with it!"
"You'll stretch it! Be careful!"
As they bickered, the moonlight returned, availing the viewers of much-desired details. There were two ponies: One chestnut coloured with a salt and pepper mane, the other a light blue with the black mane in errant disarray, tail to match. The chestnut fellow bore a distinctive cutie mark, an anchor with snakes entwined symmetrically around the handle topped by wings. The latter's cutie mark was hidden by a long pin-striped nightgown.
In the midst of tussling, the blue pony noticed his surroundings and company. "Oh dear, Princess Luna. How embarrassing."
"Princess Luna?" exclaimed the greyish maned pony. Being once of the service brought him to an instant show of respect, standing at attention as quickly as he could manage. His companion rose to his hooves sluggishly.
"At ease fellow," Luna drawled officially.
"Thank you Ma'am."
"Good evening Princess Luna. Peculiar encounter, wouldn't you agree? Pardon me. I'm Forelock Holmes, and this is my assistant, Doctor John Trotson," he stooped, inclining his head toward the pony who had already moved to examine Twilight Sparkle. "John?"
"What?" he snapped irritably. "A moment, will you?"
"Is she unharmed, Dr. Trotson?" Luna requested, voice surprisingly gentle.
"Just unconscious. A little rest and she'll recover," he explained. "How did we get here?"
"We were summoned by magic. Clearly the element of magic, greatest source in Equestria. To say it was an accident is an understatement. Twilight Sparkle here was performing an unpracticed spell, judging by the state of her exhaustion. Summoning us from Londun is no small feat. Luna practices no such magic. It was you, I see. What's your name?"
"Azure Nocturne. How did you—I taught Twilight an echolocation spell… nothing more."
"Just so," Holmes chimed. "Twilight is an unpredictable mare. Wouldn't you agree, Princess?"
"Hmph. How would you know the nature of our magic?" Luna gaped. "It is our realm. Ours alone."
"Fah. Your power is indeed great, Princess, yet it is bound to the paradigms of the astral body that you govern. On the other hoof, Twilight Sparkle's mastery of teleportation magic is widely known. Ah. but those are just the obvious facts. I can see that you've been up for four hours searching for your quarry. It is a pony, and yet it is not a pony. You haven't seen this pony, because you haven't given proper chase. Your hooves aren't marked by galloping, but the masonry dust in your coats indicates that you have visited areas of the castle that aren't swept out very often. Come on. Let's have a chance at it."
"Forelock, we have a question," Luna interrupted him. He stood with his head parallel to his hindquarters.
"Yes?"
"Why are you wearing a scarf and nightgown?" she intoned, drawing attention to his curious mode of dress.
Forelock flustered like a foal. "Oh. I was cold. Middle of autumn, you know."
So you'd instead not tell her you were re-enacting a crime scene in the middle of the night and that you couldn't be bothered to be dressed standing in the middle of the street? Dr. Trotson thought with some amusement. Luna demonstrated no interest in pursuing the matter further. The pair began to leave.
"Forelock! What about Twilight Sparkle?" Trotson reminded him.
"She's not dying, is she? Let her rest. Someone can remove her to her chambers, if you wish. You're the Doctor, Doctor! Now come on! While the dew is still moist!" Forelock was off like a cannon shot, unimpeded by his intellectually lacklustre audience.
"Let me take care of her," Azure told John, crouching beside him. He negated at first.
"I'm the physician. Forelock will be … ponyfeathers! Thank you, uh," he paused, name hunting.
"Azure Nocturne," she answered sweetly. "You're welcome."
It was not long before Forelock met the undisturbed, sealed door. There was something different this time. On the floor, not inches away from the heavy wooden panel door, was an officially sealed scroll. Forelock stooped and retrieved the rolled material, which he then presented to Luna.
"Yes?" she asked, disaffected.
"This is addressed to you, Princess. You were led to it. The voice has done its job," Forelock enunciated the words clearly. "Let us inform the Princess Celestia."
A shimmer of sunset broke over the parapet, streaming into Luna's eyes. She bowed her head, defeated.
"Very well."
—
Brazen Heart's short, reddish tail bobbed as he trotted anxiously through the halls to the Princess's chambers. Two ponies stood outside her door, one light tan colt with a burgundy mane and the second a light blue colt with a bubbly, deep navy mane. He wanted to know why they were here, but …
"…Widget Dreamer's new apple slicer? Oh, I made the most wonderful apple pie with it!" chimed the former, whom Blaze remembered as Lucent Acumen. He wore copper-rimmed round-lens glasses—another of Dreamer's designs, no doubt. The two were close friends. The other was Frazzle Spark, a scholar under the tutelage of Fire Wire the Grand.
"Uh, what'd you do with all the cores," asked his companion doubtfully.
"That's a silly question. I have a compost," he replied, mildly testy. It's in my backyard."
"You've never shown it to me …" the younger of the pair protested. "I thought friends shared all that."
"How was I supposed to know you had an interest in gardening?"
"Hey, colts, 'sup?" Brazen said as he reached a polite distance. The colt brightened immediately.
"Brazen! 'sup!" replied the white colt with a cheerful click of hoof. They raised their hooves in a familiar greeting and tapped them together.
"How can we help you?" Lucent requested amicably.
"You can't. Going to see the princess."
"Is it important?" Lucent had tweaked to the oddity of the visit and wanted in.
Brazen grinned knowingly. "Very. I'm going now."
"Yeah, door's not locked…" Frazzle remarked with subtle sarcasm. Ah, of course, her open-door policy. Brazen knocked, then nudged the door open. Celestia was, predictably, sipping tea. Brazen stooped on his forehooves.
"Good morning, your majesty."
"Good morning, Brazen Heart. Where is my sister?" she uttered, alert to the irregularity of this appearance.
"M'lady. I've been sent by Captain Nocturne to request your presence in Luna's bedchamber."
She rose from her pillow, determination narrowing her eyes. "Let's go."
Twilight Sparkle had never before known such pain. Unless she counted the events of the Usra Minor, Rarity's wing spell… which she had not until the black vacuum between her eyes brought forth the recollection. Light pierced the darkness, but the aura and accompanying shadow wasn't one she recognized. A voice as gentle as the hoof at her mane consulted with regard to her condition:
"How do you feel?"
Twilight moaned, tossing slightly on the bed. "Who are you? Ooh, I've got to get back to Ponyville…"
"Doctor John Trotson. Ah, good. Back to coherence. You're a talkative filly in your sleep. Do you know that? Does your head hurt? You're still very pale."
"But… Ponyville…" The tornado of events made her head spin and the world with it. She gulped and swallowed, nausea turning her face green. She groaned again, wriggling her forehooves.
"Shush now. Still a touch queasy, I see. You're in no condition to travel now. You had a high fever, but it has broken. Tell me, have you ever performed magic of that sort before?"
"Oooh…" she groaned. "No. It was, different."
"Never mind that for now. You're looking much better, lie back down. Nurse!" he called. Twilight's attendant, a white-gowned unicorn, trotted soundlessly over and applied her healing horn. Her mane and tail swirled in a yellow-white candy cane flow, and her pale eyes streamed calm and assurance. John wondered if she might also have been a Douala.
"She's out of danger now, Cotton… Gauze, was it?" Dr. Trotson said, measuring the regularity of Twilight's breathing pattern. "Won't be going anywhere for the day, at best. Could be sooner, she's recovering much more quickly than I thought she would. You'll keep an eye on her, will you?"
"Doctor Stickerbrush is the palace physician. He's been assigned to her care," she half-whispered in reply. "I must thank you for taking such fine care of her."
"Oh, not at all," John whinnied softly. "Repaying a debt, you might say."
"So the sleeper wakes," rumbled a pleasing baritone. Unphased, Trotson did not avert his attention from his patient, yet the micro-expression of ire at his timing could not be missed. Twilight, in particular, blushed. "What do you remember about last night?"
"Forelock, she's only just awoken," John rose to his hooves and faced his friend. "You'll not pester her. I won't have it."
Forelock snorted and began to turn away. "Fine then. I'll eat, if I must."
"Wait." Twilight had begun to rise from her bed when Cotton pressed her back down. Unable to resist, she relented. "I just want to talk. I'll rest, I promise."
"You've a sentence, my dear. Nothing more," Cotton's paternal authority was definitive.
"Thank you. You. You, yes. I need to say something to you."
Reading her air of challenge, the dark-haired colt made direct eye contact. This is not a filly who lies or cheats. Nor does she abandon those in need. Even among her friends, she is of rare self-sacrifice. Her power will one day rival the Princesses if she can summon John and me from Londun, he thought, tugging at the knot of his scarf.
"Are you… Forelock Holmes?" she panted.
"I am." He stooped slightly. John had a momentary flash of surprise.
Twilight's eyes fluttered, and she drifted back to sleep. "Yay …"
"Sister, do you believe the threat is serious?" Dark eyes scrutinized a parchment half unrolled upon a small reading table as though it had begun to spark and sizzle.
"I would not risk a hair on your beautiful mane, my sister," murmured the passionate, glorious voice of Princess Celestia. She lowered her head comfortingly over her sister, and for a while like this, they remained until a knock at the chamber door shattered their silence.
"Princess, they have arrived," announced a throaty, feminine voice.
"Thank you, Azure Nocturne. Permit them entry."
The double doors parted, opened by Luna's personal guard's practiced spells. Two colts were admitted. A light-blue colt attired in a long grey-black scarf with gleaming blue eyes was followed by a chestnut-coated fellow with a salt-and-pepper mane and genial bearing. He wore a grey sweater and a black, shiny shoulder-and-elbow-patched jacket. Celestia wanted to smile at the sight of him.
"We're going to see the Princesses, dressed like this?" whispered the second heatedly.
"Her ladyship needs to know about the events of last night," the dark-maned colt retorted.
"Yes, that would only be appropriate. It is nice to have a choice, now."
"I agree. You're not used to such esteem," Forelock remarked.
"What's that supposed to…" he began crossly. He ended just as quickly, the proximity of the royal sisters pricking his gentlecoltly manners. He stopped and stooped deeply at the foreleg.
"Forelock Holmes, Doctor John Trotson, we are pleased by your punctuality. Welcome to Canterlot."
"It's our honor to be here, even under the unusual circumstances," Forelock grinned.
"Yes, I had been told about that. How is Twilight, Dr. Trotson?" Celestia requested, gazing steadily at the pony she addressed. Luna seemed entirely fixated on the answer.
"I'm afraid the erratic energy of the teleportation has had a lasting impact on her body. Thankfully her fever has broken, but she's still quite weak."
"Oh, my…" gasped the Princess. "Will she recover? Do I need to see her now?"
The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but he was confident of the answer. "No. She was conscious for a few minutes and lucid. I don't believe there will be any permanent side effects as a consequence. No one can have known this would happen. She is a young mare, and I have every confidence she will recover swiftly."
"Yes," Forelock agreed by way of interruption. "On that note, may I suggest that we have some tea?"
Luna's eyes widened, angered. "Tea?!"
Celestia wordlessly interposed her sister's temper by stepping forward and requesting that the guest's needs be attended to.
"Tea? At a time like this?" sighed John. "Weren't you just lecturing me about urgency?"
"Steel yourself. The tension in this room is quite high. Princess Luna is of a highly precarious temperament. We should be grateful that you had good news for her," he cautioned, speaking in a private tone at John's ear. He curtly about faced Princess Celestia, hooves clicking in an evenly timed clip-clop clip-clop. "Tell me about the threat against your sister, Princess."
Luna was aghast once again. "How did he know? We haven't-"
"My sister, please be patient. Understand that there are no secrets before this stallion."
"Of course. Secrets are only unobserved facts. We discovered that very letter last night, and now you are avoiding all possible contact from anypony who might share your woe or provide you aid? You are a solitary mare, Princess Luna, but dreadfully transparent," Forelock explained quickly. "I am afraid you will only understand demonstrations."
Luna regarded the none-too-subtle examination as the utmost arrogance. She measured Celestia's response and was surprised that she was not offended by his attitude.
What a presumptive and arrogant stallion! How uncivil he is to us, Luna determined. He is not to be trusted. Not. Yet. "Yes, that letter. We have reviewed the contents, Mr Holmes, and we cannot discern any portent. Perhaps it would be wise for you to consult-"
"Oh, may I?" muttered Forelock absently, ignoring her further protest, one hoof pressing the lower part of the parchment open as his eyes ravenously consumed the contents portrayed by scrawled characters. Celestia's aides were among the swiftest in the land, and just as it appeared that Forelock had finished pondering the letter, tea was served.
Forelock helped himself, pacing the room, his eyes flicking to specific points—Luna, Celestia, the letter, the bed, the table, and briefly, the tea. The repast was refreshing and eased his nerves, clearing his mind and reinvigorating his thoughts. Celestia also procured a cup and sipped modestly at it while Luna and John refrained.
Ever the balm of the restless mind, Forelock half-grinned at the appreciation that he shared with Celestia of tea. Celestia is a mare of many labourers, and she conceals her anger at this threat to her sister. Tread carefully, very carefully.
"Tense as the height of a crescendo," Forelock stated of Luna at length. He deliberately entered her personal space, impugning the dull lucidity of her mindset. Celestia, with a glowing horn, set her tea down while smiling eyes hinted at her amusement. "You are suspended in the contrivances of your perception. Princess Luna, this letter is far more serious than you imagine. I will read it:
'Scant escape the peddler of woe
Great loss, this numbers foe
Askance glimmer of yore
'The Gala's horn entrances shore
Brave heart to fail anew
When have I you.'"
When he finished, he rounded and beheld Luna, eyes wide and flaring with excitement. Luna was nearly startled and surprised by this reaction. Holmes then declared:
"This colt claims to have right to your crown."
Luna's eyes bespoke royal vengeance amidst insurmountable torrents of righteous indignation. Celestia keenly observed her agitated canter, curious when the questions would begin. John was unshaken and more than accustomed to—No, she recanted, his confidence in Forelock was absolute.
"How dare he! What right has he to our throne? What claim can he lay to our crown? Forelock, who is this pony?!" As she bore down on him, the room itself began to darken, shadows grasping for any light source as if to snuff them all out. "I demand to know!"
Forelock portrayed a stormless repose, her eyes matching hers in an embrace of icy detachment. John was unnerved to realize how alike the two were. Was Luna's challenge met and matched by the peerless detective? Dr. Trotson began to wonder how long they could carry on.
"Sister!"
Celestia's ivory coat gleamed, a radiant contrast to the more petite, embattled, ebony-gripped frame. Luna inhaled, the light of trust abating the terror from within. She bowed her head at her sister. The cool invasion of night receded, replaced by the unflinching sun.
"We are sorry, sister." Luna huffed, distress clear in her typically malevolent tones. "We do not understand this colt's reasoning. We do not understand your trust!"
Celestia 'tsked' and said, "You have been away one thousand years, my beloved sister. In that time, I accrued many allies. Forelock has assisted the Kingdom before, though never the throne, directly. Has it not occurred to you that your mode of speech tells of such changes?"
"Our mode of speech? We will not abandon what is our right. How can you…?"
"Luna," Celestia intoned.
Luna's eyes flicked up to her sister's, then to the floor and back again. "Yes sister. We understand; your desire is to protect us, but please! You must elucidate us. How can he be trusted?"
"Forelock is a very cold colt; that much is true, and you are much disillusioned by his words," she said. Forelock nodded, in no way slightly, discerning her intent long before. John marvelled at his display of respect. "I suggest a demonstration is in order."
"If it is your wish, and it would be our pleasure, Princess Luna," Forelock interposed, mimicry of her royal pedantry in no way mocking. "You felt a threat to your life. Anypony may have noticed that Princess Celestia threw all manner to the winds, welcoming us instead of having us do so. To their credit, your guards know you so keenly that they made no introduction at all. Rarely have they seen you so upset."
Celestia gasped. "Wh-why? Yes, that is so. I had not noticed. Please continue."
"Does he always speak in paragraphs?" Luna groaned tersely.
"Be grateful. You've got his attention," John stated by way of consolation. With a huff from her lean frame, which had returned once again to its fairer baby blue tone, she conceded. Forelock turned to John Trotson and eyed him significantly.
"Tell me what you make of the letter, Doctor Trotson?"
John was stymied by the request. "Me…? Surely you don't mean me."
"Oh don't think so poorly of yourself, John!"
"But … well …"
"Come on, you're a practical colt. So is our villain."
"Practical? What do you mean by that?"
"Using royal stationary is not only convenient, but also reduces the volume of data we can obtain. Pragmatic, you see. We're dealing with an impatient pony."
"But you just said that he was very patient and deliberate," John noted caustically.
"Yes, I did, but this pony is undoubtedly rushed for time, and in point of fact, believes he has won."
"Ah, yes, I see what you mean. Well, no, I don't. Which kind is he?"
Luna's dark eyes narrowed with tangible menace. "Forelock Holmes, you try our patience."
"Patience is an excuse for brain to languish," he remarked meaningfully, not concealing his sympathies. Luna was taken aback. "Princess, if my good stallion can allay your doubts, it is but a hint of what I can do. Let us waste not a moment more!"
Luna's head twisted toward her sister, who projected an air of all-consuming trust. She whinnied, dissatisfied. Far be it from her to mistrust her own sister. What arrogance! Yet, it is oddly comforting that he is so desirous of getting results expediently.
"Proceed," she assented finally.
Forelock inclined his head affirmatively at John Trotson, who inhaled in an effort to steady his nerves.
"Very well." He cleared his throat and glanced upward thoughtfully. Well… It doesn't make sense that a colt with claim to your mareship's crown would surrender so quickly, even if you scare him away. He is arrogant and confident in the legality of his claim."
A certain light-eyed Alicorn set him with a curious regard, and he harumphed with a pardoning half-smile. "I will have that researched immediately, Dr. Trotson."
"Excellent," noted Forelock flippantly, his attention focused on something else entirely. "Let us know how that turns out. John, continue."
"Ah, yes. Of course. May I see the letter?" Forelock passed the parchment to him. Hmm … A 'peddler' has many wares, and thus, this is but one of his plans. We can surmise that while he is the mastermind, he has allies, hence 'numbers' and 'foe'. 'Askance' and 'glimmers' imply that—as Forelock said—he is an accomplished criminal. I think he's very confident."
A sidelong glance to Forelock from John was noticed and the agreement it portrayed. Assured, he carried on:
"I don't know about 'Gala's horn', but 'bravery failing anew' seems obvious. Pardon my manners, Princess Luna, discussing such a matter, but I believe he is referring to the annual of your escape from the moon. I take the last line as bait to mislead you about his true intentions."
Celestia and Luna were simultaneously awed by his presentation. John realized how little they understood about deception and crime. Such knowledge was rudimentary in their trade. Canterlot must only see a little villainy. Celestia was a wise ruler, indeed. Ironically, he had only scratched the surface of what deduction could reveal. Forelock, as always, composed his summary:
"Everypony would know about the annual of your escape, but nopony with a pint of sense in their head would dare bring it up. More than appearances, our fair Mares Princess, for Luna is the embodiment of the Moon's incomparable influence. More the point; you were very dramatic," Forelock observed brazenly. "Yes, well done John. You missed only the biggest pieces of the puzzle. However, fine work."
"Ah," he flustered, "but that's your job, isn't it. To get … those … uh, pieces."
"Indeed." A tilt of the head was his response. "From the condition of the parchment we can stipulate that the writer is not only in Canterlot, but serves the royal sisters in this very castle. It does not have the sulfur odor of a message sent by dragon and thus has not traveled far. It is made of the finest southern grown wheat Canterlot offers, not wood as most cheaper scroll materials employ. Only five parchment suppliers in Equestria use wheat, two of which operate in Canterlot. These are 'Finer Press' and 'Kinder Leaflets', which are the only two companies to use the southern grown wheat. It takes longer to process and prepare but lasts six times longer than average scroll material. Of the two, only Finer Press sells directly to the palace. Kinder Leaflets is a wholesale provider for print media. The ink is a rare oil base meant to wash off easily during recycling and was furbished to the crowns by PFABQ or Ponies For A Better Quill. Positively odious name, but the quality of their product is undeniable, for it is worth twenty-five bits an inkwell. Frankly they are to my preference. This message was hoof delivered. Ask your guards. Hurry!"
"Yes, we will do that," Celestia nodded, motioning for a slate blue-coated colt to attend to the matter. "Frazzle Spark!"
The young colt briskly joined the group with a slight bend of the foreleg. "You summoned, milady?"
"I need to know who delivered scrolls by hoof to the palace in the last twelve hours. Please, now, with as much haste as you can muster."
"Of course, Princess! Right away! You can count on me!"
Forelock peered wittingly at the pony and his departure. "That will not find the culprit."
"But why have you had us search, then, Mr. Holmes?" Celestia posited.
"Elimination. This letter was found the night previous in the dark of night, and delivered under our very noses. The more information we have, the better, you understand."
"The better?" Luna snarled; ardent fury flared once again. "Let us find the traitor immediately! We'll rout-"
Forelock's deep, entrancing voice pricked up every ear in the room. "Consumed by the very idea of betrayal, are we? We've not even a hint of the writer's cutie mark, and you propose to capture him straightaway? Princess Luna, how would you do it? He is a colt of extraordinary patience and deliberation, of that I promise you. Let us explore the character of this individual in greater detail."
"You are unfathomable, Mr. Holmes!" Luna railed.
"Naturally," he replied as if conducting the answer and introduction all at once. Trotson smirked, knowing he was indeed doing so. "As thieves strike in the dead of night, magicians seek to conceal their tricks with misdirection. A threat against your person will command a strong emotional response, drawing your attention away from that which he wishes to obscure or conceal. Shadows and threats, Princess. We know them well, do we not?"
Luna was taken aback by his cunning, lancing gaze. "We do. It is our domain."
"Indubitably. Only someone so close to the throne can observe your royal habits. Moreover! He knew that you would retreat from all pony contact. You are a prideful, formidable pony."
Luna squinted at him. Was it another affront? Had he made any, really? He was such a quandary!
"Princesses, he planned many things, but he cannot have suspected that Twilight would accidentally summon us. No, even I was caught by surprise."
"Psh," Dr. Trotson hissed. "I'd say so. It surprised the ponyfeathers out of me."
Forelock eyed his companion cannily. "Surprise has limited effect, and we must have its every advantage. Princess Celestia has substantiated this letter's threat, and it is well that she has. It may have gone unnoticed as a farce, otherwise."
Celestia's reproach was doubly as fearsome as that of her sister's. "You suggest we would not have honored our sister's fear?"
Forelock returned her gaze, unaffected. "Princess, I assert that the villain's hand was forced by our arrival. The condition of the wax seal was poor, indicating that it was hastily applied and done so at the very last minute. I noticed that last night the wax was still warm. He substantiated the claim and threat upon your sister by means of our notoriety. Nonetheless it is serious, and a great puzzle of misinformation."
Doctor Trotson was pleased by the flattery of his friend and was entirely prepared for Celestia to apologize to Forelock, but she offered none. Either their understanding ran deep, or she simply did not feel he was entitled to it. Undisturbed and unruffled, Forelock continued:
"An entrance, or to en-trance? Gala's horn – suggesting, of course Princess Celestia's very own. A gate made by some magic? A shore … but which shore?" There is a picture here greater than my mind alone can encompass. Something which I have seen before but do not understand, Forelock thought, the depths of his genius stirred by the presentation of a puzzle from which too many pieces were missing. How I detest favours, but boredom is so much the worse!
John was mystified by the outward demonstration of flattery on Forelock's part. An implement with which he might pacify the Princess. Luna stood before a roaring fire, built presumably by one of her aides. In fact, a buff representative in black plate armour snorted blue flame at Forelock, who confirmed his theory by the odour of the smoke.
"Sable Thorn, lay off."
That was unexpectedly casual, John thought with a startled look at Luna and then at Sable Thorn, who puffed disapprovingly and sauntered away. The order drew Forelock's ever-scrutinizing gaze but for an instant. The shadow-painted colt was intimidating, yet Luna held unmitigated authority over him. John recognized the fearsome power that her vulnerable visage belied.
"Forelock, what will you have us do?" Luna demanded coolly. Her royal manner had returned. "We cannot allow this villain to achieve his goal."
"That is precisely what I mean to do."
"We do not understand!"
A shrewd grin settled into Forelock's face, and John felt that familiar dread excitement.
"I will explain everything, Princess Luna." John was impressed at the respect he displayed for her station, knowing his acquaintances' superiority complex. "First I must ask of Princess Celestia a favor."
"Yes, Forelock?"
"There is a guest I would have you invite to tomorrow's Gala."