Slashes in Seaddle
by darkcyan
“Is Seaddle always this …” Lyra paused at the end of the train platform and gestured, encompassing the heavily overcast sky, the mist half-obscuring the mountains in the distance, and the busy streets full of ponies with their heads lowered.
Bon Bon selected an umbrella from the mostly-full stand nearby and held it out invitingly. “From what I’ve heard, yes. The weather team clears out the clouds for a few months in summer so everypony doesn’t go completely mad, but the ecosystem apparently needs the rain.”
“Huh. Well, it’s a good thing we don’t have to stay here long; I’m missing the sun already.” Lyra took the umbrella in her magic, holding it above them both. “Where to next?”
Had Lyra forgotten to their briefing already? Or was she just making conversation? “The new government seat. It should be this way.” They stepped out into the street, wet but thankfully mostly mud-free.
As far as Bon Bon knew, no one had come up with a proper name for their destination yet; it couldn’t be “city hall” because that building still existed and the mayor wasn’t going anywhere.
From what she’d heard, even the name of this new position that Princess Twilight had started introducing hadn’t been fully settled on yet, though several prominent newspapers seemed in favor of “Grand-Mayor”. It made sense, she supposed – a mayor of mayors, somepony who could be trusted to solve local problems so that the Princess didn’t have to step in for everything and could focus on building diplomatic relations with Equestria’s neighbors.
Luckily, Bon Bon didn’t have to name the position, she just had to figure out why the confirmation party preparations kept getting wrecked.
“Why isn’t anypony else using an umbrella?” Lyra asked.
Bon Bon blinked, and shrugged. “Seaddlites are just strange, I guess.”
The grand hall was, to put it mildly, destroyed.
Beautiful ribbons in Seaddle’s greens and blues that were clearly intended to line the length of the ceiling instead mostly lay in tattered ruins on the floor, with only a handful of remains dangling desultorily from where they’d been pinned. A life-sized mahogany maple-leaf statue had been sliced clean in two, as had the table it had been standing on, and something Bon Bon thought had once been a delicate bridge-like structure – set on the other side of the dais – had twisted in on itself. Some of the other tables had pieces sliced out of their surface or tilted on half-sliced-off legs, a couple with smaller statues on top that were too mangled or diced to recognize, and she couldn’t see a single chair still in its appropriate place.
She’d heard rumors before, of these sorts of clean cuts through material far too hard to slice through for any normal and most magical means.
“Well? Can you help us?”
“Of course we can, that’s what we’re here for,” Lyra said cheerfully to the nervous-looking stallion who’d led them to this room; Seaddle’s new grand-mayor elect, Brews Barrel. His coat was a nondescript brown, his mane a mostly carefully trimmed grey-black though with fringe that he hadn’t seemed to notice had flopped onto his forehead, wearing a chain necklace, a immaculately pressed vest, and a slightly askew bowtie.
Bon Bon only needed to ask one more question to be sure. “Have any creatures gone missing recently?” The stallion suddenly found new depths of nerves to express in his face, and she waved a hoof hastily. “Not ponies!” Probably. “But mice, rabbits, other small creatures.”
“Oh, um. The cooks have been complaining less about grain going missing?” The grand-mayor elect shuffled his hooves. “So maybe?”
Bon Bon nodded firmly. “It’s almost certainly a weasel-spirit, then. They’re drawn to special occasions with the desire to destroy them, and they feed on,” she paused. Brews Barrel paled. “– Well, the important thing is, we’ll be getting it out of your mane in no time.”
She met Lyra’s eyes and cocked her head towards the door slightly.
Her partner nodded, and turned to Brews Barrel. “So, when did this all start? Oh, and can you recommend any good tourist attractions for while we’re in town? And does it really never stop raining except for two months in summer?”
Smiling, Bon Bon slipped out the door.
She had traps to plant.
“Did you find anything out?”
Bon Bon slid the curtains closed, hiding the lamp-lit, still mist-decked buildings from view. Lyra turned a lamp, bathing their hotel room in a warm glow, and then settled into a nearby chair.
When they’d first started working together, Bon Bon remembered she’d utterly discounted Lyra’s tendency to chat with anypony who’d sit still long enough, so caught up in her own need to be right that she’d almost ruined their friendship.
Now, she couldn’t imagine working without it.
Her partner frowned. “Nothing for sure,” she admitted. “He claims he doesn’t have any enemies – no more than the any government official, and if any of them hated him enough to draw a weasel-spirit here, surely something like this would have happened back when he was mayor?”
Bon Bon nodded.
“There is … one other thing.” Lyra touched her chest, where the chain had lain. “He’s wearing some sort of medallion. He said it was a good luck charm. It didn’t seem particularly magical to me, but he said he’d found it in an antique shop a few weeks before all this started happening.”
“Can you go looking for that shop in the morning?”
Lyra gave a lazy salute, and Bon Bon smiled.
“Did your traps catch anything?” Lyra asked.
Bon Bon shrugged. “It rained a quarter-inch overnight?”
Aside from being wet, the traps were immaculate. So if the weasel-spirit wasn’t coming from the outside …
Lyra had worked with grand-mayoral staff to figure out an alternate room, and smoothed things over with the delegates form Vanhoover and all the towns from around the region.
If she ever decided to leave S.M.I.L.E., Bon Bon suspected she’d make a great diplomat, if anypony would give someone from a small town like Ponyville a chance.
The ceremony had been reworked, the plans set, new chairs and tables found. Everything was ready to move forward, despite everything that had gone wrong.
Now, all they had to do was wait.
A whirlwind swirled through the closed doors and ran straight into Bon Bon’s newly set trap, pausing just long enough for Lyra’s magic to flash out, yanking the medallion away.
Brews Barrel abruptly reappeared. “What … happened?”
Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged a glance. “So, it turns out that that good luck charm grants your desires.”
Lyra and Bon Bon hoof-bumped. All in a day’s work for S.M.I.L.E.
Bon Bon selected an umbrella from the mostly-full stand nearby and held it out invitingly. “From what I’ve heard, yes. The weather team clears out the clouds for a few months in summer so everypony doesn’t go completely mad, but the ecosystem apparently needs the rain.”
“Huh. Well, it’s a good thing we don’t have to stay here long; I’m missing the sun already.” Lyra took the umbrella in her magic, holding it above them both. “Where to next?”
Had Lyra forgotten to their briefing already? Or was she just making conversation? “The new government seat. It should be this way.” They stepped out into the street, wet but thankfully mostly mud-free.
As far as Bon Bon knew, no one had come up with a proper name for their destination yet; it couldn’t be “city hall” because that building still existed and the mayor wasn’t going anywhere.
From what she’d heard, even the name of this new position that Princess Twilight had started introducing hadn’t been fully settled on yet, though several prominent newspapers seemed in favor of “Grand-Mayor”. It made sense, she supposed – a mayor of mayors, somepony who could be trusted to solve local problems so that the Princess didn’t have to step in for everything and could focus on building diplomatic relations with Equestria’s neighbors.
Luckily, Bon Bon didn’t have to name the position, she just had to figure out why the confirmation party preparations kept getting wrecked.
“Why isn’t anypony else using an umbrella?” Lyra asked.
Bon Bon blinked, and shrugged. “Seaddlites are just strange, I guess.”
The grand hall was, to put it mildly, destroyed.
Beautiful ribbons in Seaddle’s greens and blues that were clearly intended to line the length of the ceiling instead mostly lay in tattered ruins on the floor, with only a handful of remains dangling desultorily from where they’d been pinned. A life-sized mahogany maple-leaf statue had been sliced clean in two, as had the table it had been standing on, and something Bon Bon thought had once been a delicate bridge-like structure – set on the other side of the dais – had twisted in on itself. Some of the other tables had pieces sliced out of their surface or tilted on half-sliced-off legs, a couple with smaller statues on top that were too mangled or diced to recognize, and she couldn’t see a single chair still in its appropriate place.
She’d heard rumors before, of these sorts of clean cuts through material far too hard to slice through for any normal and most magical means.
“Well? Can you help us?”
“Of course we can, that’s what we’re here for,” Lyra said cheerfully to the nervous-looking stallion who’d led them to this room; Seaddle’s new grand-mayor elect, Brews Barrel. His coat was a nondescript brown, his mane a mostly carefully trimmed grey-black though with fringe that he hadn’t seemed to notice had flopped onto his forehead, wearing a chain necklace, a immaculately pressed vest, and a slightly askew bowtie.
Bon Bon only needed to ask one more question to be sure. “Have any creatures gone missing recently?” The stallion suddenly found new depths of nerves to express in his face, and she waved a hoof hastily. “Not ponies!” Probably. “But mice, rabbits, other small creatures.”
“Oh, um. The cooks have been complaining less about grain going missing?” The grand-mayor elect shuffled his hooves. “So maybe?”
Bon Bon nodded firmly. “It’s almost certainly a weasel-spirit, then. They’re drawn to special occasions with the desire to destroy them, and they feed on,” she paused. Brews Barrel paled. “– Well, the important thing is, we’ll be getting it out of your mane in no time.”
She met Lyra’s eyes and cocked her head towards the door slightly.
Her partner nodded, and turned to Brews Barrel. “So, when did this all start? Oh, and can you recommend any good tourist attractions for while we’re in town? And does it really never stop raining except for two months in summer?”
Smiling, Bon Bon slipped out the door.
She had traps to plant.
“Did you find anything out?”
Bon Bon slid the curtains closed, hiding the lamp-lit, still mist-decked buildings from view. Lyra turned a lamp, bathing their hotel room in a warm glow, and then settled into a nearby chair.
When they’d first started working together, Bon Bon remembered she’d utterly discounted Lyra’s tendency to chat with anypony who’d sit still long enough, so caught up in her own need to be right that she’d almost ruined their friendship.
Now, she couldn’t imagine working without it.
Her partner frowned. “Nothing for sure,” she admitted. “He claims he doesn’t have any enemies – no more than the any government official, and if any of them hated him enough to draw a weasel-spirit here, surely something like this would have happened back when he was mayor?”
Bon Bon nodded.
“There is … one other thing.” Lyra touched her chest, where the chain had lain. “He’s wearing some sort of medallion. He said it was a good luck charm. It didn’t seem particularly magical to me, but he said he’d found it in an antique shop a few weeks before all this started happening.”
“Can you go looking for that shop in the morning?”
Lyra gave a lazy salute, and Bon Bon smiled.
“Did your traps catch anything?” Lyra asked.
Bon Bon shrugged. “It rained a quarter-inch overnight?”
Aside from being wet, the traps were immaculate. So if the weasel-spirit wasn’t coming from the outside …
Lyra had worked with grand-mayoral staff to figure out an alternate room, and smoothed things over with the delegates form Vanhoover and all the towns from around the region.
If she ever decided to leave S.M.I.L.E., Bon Bon suspected she’d make a great diplomat, if anypony would give someone from a small town like Ponyville a chance.
The ceremony had been reworked, the plans set, new chairs and tables found. Everything was ready to move forward, despite everything that had gone wrong.
Now, all they had to do was wait.
A whirlwind swirled through the closed doors and ran straight into Bon Bon’s newly set trap, pausing just long enough for Lyra’s magic to flash out, yanking the medallion away.
Brews Barrel abruptly reappeared. “What … happened?”
Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged a glance. “So, it turns out that that good luck charm grants your desires.”
Lyra and Bon Bon hoof-bumped. All in a day’s work for S.M.I.L.E.