Mooncrescent bobbles back and forth as he jauntily trots down the familiar pace halls alongside his brother. “Isn’t this exciting!? Celestia gave us a secret mission! Us! Oh, father’s gonna eat his words… Though, I guess it’s a secret mission, so we can’t tell him…” Mooncrescent scrunches up his face at that, disappointed as he outwits himself.

  Starbze gives him a harsh gaze. “You should take this more seriously.” He remarks, bluntly, fixating his gaze upon the approaching, dark threshold of the pace dungeons. “Do you not understand how important this is?” Despite himself, Starbze can’t help shaking slightly; somehow, he’d been pced in the center of the greatest breach of Equestrian security in the st century, entirely by accident. It was up to him and his brother to solve it, and they weren’t even out of cadet school! The weight of the eyes of history rested heavy upon him. “The safety of Equestria is riding firmly on our shoulders.”

  Mooncrescent rolls his eyes. “Oh, whatever! Hopefully that means there’ll be fighting. Though I guess Celly would be upset if we jumped to that too quickly…” He scrunches up his muzzle again. “Oh well, it’ll still be fun!”

  Starbze groans and hangs his head, as he begins trotting down the stairs into the dungeons. Getting through to Mooncrescent the gravity of the situation was just impossible.

  It had been a while since he’d st been down here; The chamber is dark, rocky, a tad moist. Privately, Starbze wonders if the tter is intentional, to really sell the feeling of ‘you are in a dungeon now.’ Another guardspony, perhaps in her te thirties or early forties, turns to appraise the two with a subtle but very real disdain behind her professional expression. Both parties look each other up before speaking; the other royal guard, an earth pony, is outfitted in a mostly standard guard uniform over her pallid red fur and short, cropped blonde mane.

  “Hmph. You two must be cadets Starbze and Mooncrescent.” The other pony remarks flippantly, ceasing to lean against her spear as she crosses into the room in front of them. “I still cannot fathom what I need you two for, but I suppose we will be working together. I am Serjeant Heartwhisper, resident jailor, and interrogator. I suppose I am technically also the resident executioner, not that I’ve ever needed to perform that particur service.” The pony in question nods to the two colts. “The prisoner is right this way. I will tolerate your presence as ordered, but please do not interfere with my methods, interrogation is a delicate science.”

  Starbze and Mooncrescent gnce at each other and shrug. “You don’t need to worry. We are here to observe, no more.” Starbze asserts; it is true, at least, as long as everything went according to pn. I suppose that it can’t be helped that they don’t like us, I certainly wouldn’t like it either if some fresh recruit was suddenly pced in charge of me for no apparent reason. Starbze ponders, somewhat sympathetically. Still, he has to remain aware; the possibility that this pony is part of the conspiracy is all too real, and he is here to ensure the interrogation is performing its true purpose.

  With that in mind, he stays on guard as he follows the mare to a sealed cell with four guards, two on the inside and two on the outside. The prisoner inside is heavily restrained, both rear and forelegs cuffed to the floor and a table respectively, a steel mask sealing his muzzle. As the door clicks shut behind her, Heartwhisper nods and motions to the pony in question. “Unmuzzle him.”

  On cue, the guardsponies on either side seize the prisoner, sm him down against the table with wholly unnecessary heavy-hoofedness, before inserting a key into either side of the masks mechanism which removes the jawpiece from the top half, allowing it to be removed. Though the guardsponies are mostly stoic in operation, the sheer severity of their demeanor radiate an aura of hostility, and Starbze rather gets the impression that they wish they could simply snap the prisoner's neck and dump him in a shallow grave.

  The prisoner makes no sound, although he cannot help but work his sore jaw from side to side, as Serjeant Heartwhisper sits before him, every bit as silent as her prey. The pegasid’s jaw had been set in pce by a brace, but it's still readily apparent that it is in very poor shape after being snapped open earlier that day, and behind his lifeless expression Mooncrescent can make out a whisper of pain struggling to get out.

  Seconds pass by in agonizing silence. Eventually, unable to take it anymore, Mooncrescent leans over to Starbze, hissing out “Why isn’t anypony saying anything?” between his teeth.

  Starbze shoots a look Mooncrescent’s way before pulling him to the side. “Keep it down, it’s a standard interrogation tactic. Most ponies can only take the tension for so long before snapping. Just watch for now, alright?”

  Mooncrescent scrunches up his muzzle, but nods. So far, this is less fun than hoped, but it is still just starting.

  Serjeant Heartwhisper, meanwhile, was toying with a curved double-sided bde with apparently detached curiosity, as if the interrogation was not even on her mind. “Hmph. Nice enough bde. Blued steel, huh? But clearly made with precision craftswork. Think I see the lines in there, too.” She muses, not apparently addressing her thoughts to anypony present, before abruptly smming the dagger down into the table without warning, eliciting a loud cracking noise and causing everypony in the room to flinch; no less the prisoner, who then promptly groans in pain as the sudden movement had caused him to move his broken jaw.

  Serjeant Heartwhisper grins at the reaction and leans forward, towering over the unfortunate pegasus who instinctively cowers away despite remaining stubbornly silent, as she pries the bde out from the table once more. “You and your buddies- Oh, sorry, you and those piles of ash that somepony is sweeping into the garbage presently-all were carrying these. Now, just how could you have gotten your hooves on something like this, hrm? You certainly don’t seem like high society, but those cloaks of yours and the worksponyship on these daggers are both a little too standardized and a little too well crafted to be something you put together or bought yourself.”

  Flippantly, the interrogator tosses the dagger in the air and catches it again, not even paying attention to the prisoner. “So it's obvious enough that you have a well-off sponsor. Probably somepony in Canterlot, even.” She flicks her eyes to the pony in question; even if he refused to speak, his body nguage would still give something away. He was eyeing the bde uneasily, with a spot of confusion behind his eyes. At the least, the current line of questioning did concern him, but he didn’t seem to be showing either relief nor anxiety at the suggestion of where his employers had come from.

  Heartwhisper’s response is, as usual, carefully calcuted. A self confident smirk, before slouching back into the chair. The trick is to look like you already have everything figured out; the more desperate a captive is to keep their secrets, the more likely they are to accidentally let something spill.

  Mooncrescent watches with bnk confusion, not understanding exactly what is happening. He gnces up at Starbze, who gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’s working her magic.” He whispers to his brother.

  Heartwhisper reaches for a notebook held by one of the guards and casually flips through the pages, back to ignoring the prisoner all over again, who is in fact beginning to look rather skittish. “Dontcha worry, I’m sure our experts will get these all sorted out and we’ll have no further need of you in no time. Then we can go ahead and dispose of you, like the trash you are.”

  The conversation proceeded that way for a little longer, the prisoner still appearing skittish but… Not to the statements you would expect. Nothing regarding their personal well-being got any reaction from them; only some of the remarks about their probable origins and the like. Starbze furrows his brow and leans over to Mooncrescent.

  “This isn’t normal. Even the best trained soldiers generally show some interest in what happens to themselves.” He mutters. “There’s something wrong with this pony.” Turning to one of the guards outside the door, Starbze jerks his head towards it. “Let me in.”

  The guard blinks and hesitates. “I’m not supposed to let anypony in when an interrogation is in progress…”

  Starbze snorts derisively and stands up as tall as he can, almost reaching eye level with the guard. “I’m on a direct, personal mission from the sor throne. If you want to stand in my way, then by all means, but I will require your name and rank so that I can recommend you for immediate reassignment.” He threatens, pushing his muzzle right up in the other ponies face.

  That shut him up fast enough. The prisoner and interrogator both look over at the sound of the unlocking door in surprise, right before Starbze bucks it open and strolls in like he owns the pce, while Mooncrescent watches from the other side with wide eyes, curious where his brother is going with this.

  Trotting right up to the table, Starbze hops up onto it nonchantly, completely ignoring the derisive look from the interrogator and the confused blinking of the prisoner. “Heya, bud. Don’t have your name, so all I can call ya is bud, I hope that’s alright.” Starbze states, adopting the most casual tone in his repertoire. “Thought I’d run this show for a bit.” He proceeds to shrug noncommittally, feigning as though it’s an entirely arbitrary decision.

  Heartwhisper stares at him aghast, standing up to her hooves. “What is the meaning of this? I had this well in hoof! I’d almost-”

  “Hush. Personal mission from the crown, recall?” Starbze retorts, casually shoving her to the side without looking and sitting himself down in her seat, propping his hind legs up onto the table. “And my, ‘Lestia wants this taken care of quickly. Think they don’t want to have to go through the bother of disposing of ashen remains twice in a week, and would rather get this buster over here torched sooner rather than ter.” Starbze remarks in his closest approximation of Mooncrescent’s normal speech patterns.

  The sheer audacity of the remark seemed to shut up Heartwhisper if nothing else, but the prisoner remains… entirely calm. Something is definitely off, even the best trained soldiers would have a reaction to that, especially on the same day as being confronted by Celestia’s full fury; it would be impossible for that to not leave an impression. And so, increasingly confident, Starbze continues. “Of course, that's assuming you're actually responsible.”

  As hoped for, everypony in the room looks bewildered at that statement, and Heartwhisper seems to get her bearings together, leaning over and hissing. “What in Tartarus’s name are you going on about, of course he’s responsible, Celestia themself saw the whole thing go down!”

  Starbze waves her off. “Oh, don’t worry about her, she’s the least of your worries right now.” The colt forces a yawn as he crosses his hooves on his barrel. The prisoner’s reactions are just as odd as he’d thought; theres no sense of either fear, hope, nor determination, almost resembling bnk apathy more than anything. In fact, he doesn’t even seem that well reserved, given how he winces when his jaw hurts and is retively easily startled. This isn’t just discipline keeping him from speaking; something else is going on here.

  Casting a cursory gnce Heartwhisper’s way, Starbze continues, “She wasn’t even there during the fight-well, more of a massacre, really. I was, but I betcha don’t remember me, do ya, you silly colt?” Starbze ruffles the prisoner's mane despite the pony quite obviously being older than him; the prisoner in question just stares at him in disbelief.

  Good. I’ve got him off guard. Now it’s time to strike. “‘Course, if you weren’t exactly in your right mind, I imagine our beloved princess might go a tad easier on ya.” Starbze shrugs. “Ya know the works… Chemical indoctrination, drug use… Magical alteration.”

  A fsh lights up in the prisoner's eyes as he jolts upright at the st one. Bingo. “we acshted entireshly on our own, your not goingsh to get any…” The prisoner’s slurred speech is cut off by a coughing fit and a nauseous look, as though in deep pain. “...More than that fromsh me!”

  Starbze hops back down to his hooves, shrugging. “Oh, well, what a shame. I guess my hunch was wrong.” As if. The royal companion casually walks back to the door, carefully maintaining the casual facade, before gncing back to the prisoner. “In that case, anypony I should know about to give your regards to? Heartfelt st words? Family, friends, lovers? Dear old ‘Lestia mightn’t give ‘em the time of day, but I’m feeling charitable.”

  There is no reaction from the prisoner, no sign the words even mean anything to him. That tells Starbze all he needs to know. He wasn’t thinking, trying to send them on a wild goose chase, or resisting the urge, nothing of the sort; He didn’t have even an inkling of accepting the offer. Starbze simply shrugs and waves backwards without looking. “Well, so much for that. Adios!” And with that, the colt struts back out into the hall with just as much self assured swagger as he had entered, telekinetically smming it shut behind him without bothering to look back at the incredulous, still somewhat shocked looks of the three ponies inside.

  Starbze droops with apparent exhaustion the exact moment he isn’t in view anymore, falling down onto his barrel, promptly being joined by Mooncrescent. “That was pretty wild, Bzey! I don’t think I’ve seen you ever act like that before.” Mooncrescent sounds halfway between awed and curious.

  Starbze shudders and nods his head. “Well, it worked out well enough. Let’s watch the rest of this interrogation.”

  It takes quite a while for Heartwhisper to regain her composure fully and reassert control over the interrogation, and little more is learned for the time being. Eventually, the interrogator is finished, the prisoner is locked back into his mask, and the door opens.

  Serjeant Heartwhisper steps heavily as she strides back out of the room, turning to face Starbze with a mixture of both irritation and begrudging respect. “Hrmph. I see what you were doing there, but next time you should at least tell me the pn before you start it.”

  Starbze scratches the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. “Eheh.. Sorry, but there wasn’t really an opportunity there. My instincts were bugging me, and I knew there was more than met the eye.”

  Heartwhisper nods. “Well, despite how untalkative our buddy there is, we got at least a little bit out of him. I’ll write up a report for you to review, and continue our efforts. We’ll crack him sooner or ter.” She shrugs. “At least you confirmed he isn’t mute.”

  Starbze salutes and nods. “For now, I think we’d best check in with the forensic team. Leave the report with Celestia’s secretary, we’ll get it from her.”

  Mooncrescent, who had been rolling around on the ground like a wet dog, flops back over onto his barrel. “Ugh, finally.” He bounces up to his hooves, smirking at Starbze. “Least we’ll get to stretch our legs with this next part…”

  “You’re going to have to be patient with a lot of this, you know.” Starbze admonishes his overeager younger sibling. “Even if you don’t recognize how important this task is, you’ve got to at least know how much faith Celestia is putting in us.”

  Mooncrescent looks actually somewhat miffed by that statement, an unusual touch of seriousness entering his face as he follows his brother up the stairs. “I do know how important it is, Bzey. Just ‘cause I’m looking forward to action doesn’t mean I’m going to compromise the operation.” He bumps into Starbze. “I did technically get the same training as you, ya know.”

  Starbze gnces back, mildly surprised. Even having known him all his life, his brother could still surprise him from time to time, it seems. At the least, it sets him at ease sufficiently to rex and stop haranguing him for the timespan it takes to leave the pace and head to the crime scene, which is conveniently almost immediately outside of the pace gates.

  Mare, Celestia wasn’t kidding, to be bold enough to attack this close to the pace in broad daylight… Starbze shakes his head in dismay. The pace district is thankfully empty save for a number of guardsponies, many of whom Starbze doesn’t even recognize; Reserve troops, militia, veterans. That would keep the media out, at least for the time being; the st thing they need is a reporter team eager to snder the royal guards position while they are trying to do their job.

  The investigation team is already there, of course, though Starbze has to wonder what exactly they could be looking for that they wouldn't have already found. In no time, looking around, he finds Mooncrescent bounding up before him, meeting up with the earth pony stallion in charge of the operation. Not a member of the pace guard, but rather, the local gendarmerie. Perhaps Celestia had thought that would reduce the odds of him being a conspirator..?

  “Mooncrescent and Starbze, right? I was told you’d be coming.” The stallion looks around the operation. “Not sure what you’re expecting, though. We’re just about done here already, anyways.”

  Mooncrescent salutes; less a gesture of respect and more just for the aesthetic. “Roger that, but we will need to hear your full report! What were you able to find out?” Mooncrescent tilts his head.

  The stallion hesitates before answering. “I can’t really say. Labs will take around a day to get results back from, and the forensics teams are going to have to look at… Whatever is left of these.” The stallion makes a face as he vaguely gestures at the gruesome, ashen remains of the local assassins, which are presently being carted off.

  Starbze casts a look over at the cart inquisitively; a duo of ponies is drawing it, both pace guards. Looking back, he jerks his head towards them. “I’ll go with them, you feel free to finish up here, Crescy.” Without waiting for a response, Mooncrescent’s older brother trots off towards the cart. Mooncrescent just shrugs and turns back to the lead investigator.

  “What about the pnts?” Mooncrescent asks, without any apparent rationale. The investigator can only blink at him in bewilderment, prompting him to continue. “Ya know, the pnts!” Mooncrescent trots over to an utterly innocuous seeming burr, halfway scorched beyond recognition, seared into the bckened flesh of what had once been a pony, which was in turn seared into the ground. “These aren’t native to Canterlot, they can’t grow at this altitude. Besides, it’s unlikely you’d step through a stickler pnt like this in an urban area, which suggests the attackers were somepce else not long ago!” Mooncrescent looks from side to side in consternation. “...Did nopony look at them at all?”

  The stallion looks around, embarrassed, and frowns deeply. “I doubt the forensics b would know much about that. It’d be better to take that to a botanist, I imagine. Are there any more?”

  Mooncrescent shrugs. “Probably were, I saw them right after Celestia showed up! But I don’t think most of them survived the fight…” Delicately, Mooncrescent leans over and attempts to clear the flesh caked into the stonework, with little success.

  “Here, let me.” The gendarmerie interrupts Mooncrescents attempts, digging into the ashen ground with his hooves with little difficulty, enabling Mooncrescent to delicately pry the burr from the ground without any further damage, hopefully maintaining some of its recognizability. The earth pony salutes once more. “Is there anything else you needed?”

  Mooncrescent pauses, pondering. “No, I don’t think so. Well, while Bzey’s away, I guess I might as well go try and find somepony who can take a look at this. Thanks, mister!”