Sunday, 5:56 a.m.
Canterlot Palace


"I'm sure you know how it is with a new foal, Your Highness," Starblade said as he, Sunspot, and Reveille trotted alongside Princess Celestia through the torch-lit hallway toward the throne room. "Even on a Guard salary, money's always a little tight."

Celestia smiled gently, almost apologetically. "It's tough for everypony right now, Starblade. And I do wish I could do more about rents, but ponies have a painfully exaggerated view of my control over the nobility." She paused as Sunspot lit his horn, fishing his keyring from his saddlebag, and inserted an oversized key in the throne room door. The lock creaked open, and Starblade took a respectful step back as the two Day Guards moved sideways to their posts. "I have introduced a bill for rent subsidies in Parliament," Celestia continued as she lifted a hoof to push the heavy door open, "but without a tax increase—"

The door barely swung ajar before there was a clatter and it hitched and halted. Celestia frowned and pushed a little harder. The door ground open slowly with the sound of metal scraping stone. She narrowed her eyes, lit her horn, and fished around with her field on the far side of the door; with some effort and a loud scrape, she pulled something loose and floated it around the door into view.

A wrought-iron fireplace poker, with a wet reddish-brown stain on the tip.

"Backup!" Sunspot shouted, breaking into a gallop toward the barracks, while Reveille and Starblade leveled spears at the door. Celestia carefully set the poker down and increased the glow on her horn, leaning forward to illuminate the quiet, still room. "Don't disturb anything," she murmured as the guards scrambled inward.

In the center of the room, amid a thick red pool, Prince Blueblood's form lay unmoving.

---

Sunday, 6:00 a.m.
Throne Room

Blueblood was quite definitively dead, and the room was quickly secured. The eastern and western picture windows were in their winter positions—closed, locked, and braced—and with no other exits, it was easy to confirm that his body had been the only equine inhabitant at the time of the guards' entry.

The guards worked grimly as Captain Rampart barked orders, and the pale hornlight of a few Day Guard unicorns lent the proceedings a ghostly feel. "No spells till we get the auramancers onto the crime scene," he shouted, flaring his wings and leaping in the way whenever anypony got within a half-dozen paces of the body aside from the unicorn carefully setting down evidence tags. Then the shadows in the room shifted as the moon plunged beneath the horizon, and Celestia's frown deepened.

"By your leave, Captain," she said softly, tapping at the nearest window with the back of a hoof, "this regicide is going to become a great deal more public and complicated if I don't bring the sun up right away." He scowled and waved a hoof at her, and Celestia closed her eyes and lit her horn. About ten seconds later, the room's pale hornlight was washed out by the golden light of dawn.

The new light illuminated the huddled form of Starblade in a corner of the room, staring at the body with his tufted ears flat and his grey cheeks visibly pale. He cleared his throat, then again. "Captain," he said faintly, in a voice that nevertheless drew the room into a hush, "I…I think I know who killed the prince."

Every pair of eyes in the room was suddenly on him. Rampart slowly turned around. "Speak."

Starblade's jaw trembled. He closed his eyes and dipped one wingtip into his saddlebags, fishing out a small, velvet bag that fell to the floor with a clink. "I caught Lady Rarity sneaking through the palace halls an hour or two ago," he whispered as Celestia's eyes widened. "She was—" his voice broke—"I needed money and she didn't have a pass, so I threatened her with a trespassing arrest to get a bribe out of her. And she said she just needed to meet somepony for a business discussion, that her Fillydelphia expansion would fall apart without it, she begged, she…" Starblade swallowed. "I told her she could pay me on the way out. She looked weird when she came back. Distant. She was trembling, and reeked of fresh perfume. But she gave me that, so I didn't ask any questions."

Rampart strode over, snatching the bag up in his hooves.

"It's embroidered with the Blueblood crest," he announced, then turned and pointed at two guards by the door. "Go arrest the Element of Generosity."

---

Sunday, 1:41 p.m.
Canterlot Dungeons

"I came the instant I heard," Twilight said, hooves pressed to the bars of Rarity's cell. "We'll get through this."

Rarity, who was huddled on the straw bed perched atop the slab of raised stone, stared blankly at the cell's opposite wall. Her hair was a matted mess, and tear-streaks had transformed her cheeks into spikes of streaked makeup. In their adventures together, Twilight had on occasion seen Rarity disheveled, but she'd never before seen Rarity looking like she didn't care.

"I'll make this right," Twilight added. Rarity still said nothing.

Twilight stepped back, resettled her wings, and cleared her throat. "All I could get out of my guards was that they think you killed Blueblood after a business deal gone wrong," she said gently. "What really happened last night?"

At that, Rarity finally stirred, her haunted eyes meeting Twilight's. "That's…that's what they're saying?" she rasped.

"Nopony's saying anything," Twilight said. "I had to literally order my guards to tell me what they knew." She forced a smile. "But that's good! It gives us a chance to get the truth out before the rumors start."

Rarity's lips flitted into a humorless smile, and her gaze unfocused again. "I could live with being thought of as his killer."

"No, you couldn't," Twilight said. "The penalty for regicide is death."

Rarity nodded, expression again going numb, then closed her eyes. "Thank you for visiting, Twilight. For what it's worth, you've made me feel quite better."

An odd feeling gnawed at Twilight's stomach. "Rarity," she blurted out, "As your friend…did you kill him?"

"What?" The question seemed to jolt Rarity back to life, and their eyes met again. "No! You know I'd never…don't you?"

Twilight reached through the bars, and Rarity took her hoof, and for a fleeting moment it felt like her again. Something stirred inside Twilight in the same place where the Elements were, and she knew more intimately than she knew her own name that Rarity wasn't lying.

"Then I promise I'll get you out of here," Twilight said. "Just tell me the truth about what happened."

Rarity's face fell, and she shrank back to her huddled spot on the bed.

"I hope you don't come to regret that promise," she whispered, and then said no more.

---

Sunday, 2:16 p.m.
Throne Room

"Alright, who's in charge here?" Twilight shouted as she pushed through the ring of guards around the door.

A roomful of ponies looked up from their tasks. In an empty roped-off area in the center of the room, some guards and mages were examining the carpet with magnifying glass and spell. Another group was similarly clustered around the throne at the back. More were around what appeared to be a hastily assembled evidence table by the west wall, yet more were around an uncomfortable-looking servant in a chair in the corner, and a final group were crowded around a grim-looking pale blue unicorn wearing a captain's helmet. Celestia—speaking to a small cluster of nobles by the eastern windows—couldn't quite suppress a wince as she gave Twilight an apologetic glance, and then refused to meet Twilight's eyes.

The pale blue unicorn detached himself from his circle of guards and trotted forward, scowling. "Day Guard Captain Rampart," he said stiffly, "Princess."

Twilight scowled back. "Rarity didn't kill him. Let her go."

Rampart took a step forward, nose to Twilight's. "We'll determine that," he said with quiet menace. "This is an active regicide investigation and she's the only major suspect. Your word won't change that. Not even princesses are above the law."

Twilight stared back, unflinching. "No," she said, "but as a princess I do outrank you."

Rampart's lips curled back into a sneer. "It's my duty to refuse unlawful orders."

Twilight smiled thinly. "But you can't keep me from assigning myself to the investigation."

He paused for a moment at that. "I can't," he said slowly, "but I can throw you in jail the instant you try to tamper with it. So tread carefully, princess." The final word was slower, more grudgingly respectful, than his earlier barb, and Twilight couldn't help but feel like she was being given some sort of silent test.

So she took a breath and gave him a conciliatory smile. "I won't get in the way. I just want to know what you've discovered. The truth will show she's innocent."

Rampart's eyes roamed around her expression and posture, and Twilight belatedly stood a little straighter, trying to project cool confidence. Finally, he said, "You do realize how bad this looks for you, right? A friend of the suspect trying to muscle her way into the murder case."

"And how bad would it look for me if the Princess of Friendship didn't do everything she could for her friends?"

His muzzle creased into a frown, but it was more guarded—not the confrontational scowl from earlier. "I don't know what she's told you, but from here it seems open and shut. She had motive and opportunity. She's refusing to answer any questions. We have a witness and solid evidence."

"If it's that open and shut, then convince me. Start from the beginning."

Rampart gestured around the throne room. "Luna ended Night Court and went upstairs to the observatory at around 11:30 p.m. The Night Guard locked the room up around midnight, when the cleaning crew finished tidying up. This whole wing of the castle was deserted after that, except for the occasional Guard patrol. The body was found by Princess Celestia and three guards when she came to the throne room, as usual, to raise the sun—"

"Hold up. It was still locked in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Who had a key?"

Rampart sighed. "There's at least half a dozen copies floating around the guard, not all of which we've accounted for yet—but Prince Blueblood himself demanded a personal copy some time back, and that key was found in his clothes."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Demanded? Canterlot royals don't get keys to their own throne room?"

Rampart glanced away sullenly. "By tradition, no. They've been kept by the Guard for generations—it's a symbolic thing. But technically we couldn't refuse him, just like I can't keep you from jumping in on the case."

Twilight glanced at the door—the inside had a keyhole too, she noted—and tried to project a conciliatory tone. "We're both here for justice. Where does Rarity come into this?"

"Private Starblade confronted her sometime between 4 and 4:30 a.m.—and then again half an hour later, when she looked badly shaken. And before you ask: Despite having to place him on disciplinary leave for bribery, his story checks out. He had no motive, no prior contact with either Blueblood or Rarity, and his finances show no debts or windfalls other than him taking a petty payoff here and there. Nor did he have a throne room key."

Twilight frowned. "Did he see them together?"

"Nopony did," Rampart said. "Other than Starblade meeting Rarity, nopony on the Guard reported anyone in that wing all night."

"Nopony even saw Blueblood come in?" Twilight pressed. "So he and somepony else might have arrived together?"

"Could have," Rampart said grudgingly. "I'm sure it's possible to evade the patrols if you know our schedule. But there's no evidence for it."

"How do you know Rarity even met with Blueblood?"

"The coin purse she gave to Starblade was his," Rampart said. "And there are traces of both Blueblood's magic and Rarity's on it, both dating between 4 and 5 a.m."

Twilight chewed her lip. That didn't look good, she had to admit, but it was a long way from there to being guilty.

"Lady Rarity's motive is also clear," Rampart continued. "We've ordered copies of her files at several Canterlot banks, and the story at each is the same: huge loans and lines of credit, with erratic records of payments." Twilight's eyes widened. "She's on the verge of bankruptcy, and has been for a while. And she sets up a 4 a.m. meeting with a royal who she loathes and has publically humiliated? That has blackmail written all over it."

Twilight felt her cheeks heat. Rarity bankrupt? Rarity blackmailing Blueblood? No wonder she hadn't wanted to say anything back in the jail cell…

Rampart gave Twilight a thin smile—she wasn't sure whether to interpret it as conciliatory or triumphant—and his voice, for the first time, softened. "I'm sorry about your friend, Princess. Sometimes ponies aren't who we thought they were. But we can't let that stand in the way of justice."

Justice. Twilight shook her head and tried to refocus. I have to stay focused on that. Whatever happened…Rarity's not the killer. She took a long breath through her nose, looking around the room as if there were any clues left for it to yield up, and her eyes settled on the evidence table where several ponies were examining a fireplace poker. Focus on the physical evidence.

"You said you linked Rarity and Blueblood to the bag between 4 and 5 a.m.," Twilight said. "I assume that's auramancy, but most of what I know about it comes from Fetlock Holmes novels. What can it really tell you?"

Rampart nodded as if approving of the question. "Actually, that's one of the few things detective fiction gets right. Levitating something—or, for that matter, casting a spell on it—makes it resonate at your unique magical frequency. The power of that resonance weakens at a known rate once your contact stops, and gets refreshed to its maximum if you interact with the object again. Auramancy is just about reading an object's resonant frequencies, giving you a series of 'magical hoofprints' along with approximately how long each signal has had to decay. So we know, for example, that Lady Rarity last magically interacted with the bag around eight and a half hours ago. She might have done so before then as well, but not after."

"So…the evidence doesn't necessarily place them together? Maybe she was so shaken because she arrived to find him dead."

Rampart raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Sure. And she just so happened to rob a corpse and then prop the murder weapon against the door. But she had nothing to do with the death."

Twilight blinked. "Wait, what was that? About the murder weapon."

Rampart hesitated for a moment, then pointed at the evidence table, where several ponies were examining the bloody fireplace poker. "That was used to bash his head in. There's a single impact fracture on the left rear side of the skull. And then it was left leaning against the inside of the throne room door."

Twilight glanced around, furrowing her brow. "Hold on. There's no fireplace here—and even if Rarity were the sort to carry a weapon around, you can't expect me to believe she carried it past Starblade without him noticing."

Rampart's eyes flicked around. "We're, ah, still trying to reconcile some of the evidence with the facts. But there are dozens of fireplaces in the building, and this matches the pokers used throughout the castle. She could have picked it up almost anywhere after their encounter."

Twilight stepped inward, voice turning icy. "'Could have'? My friend is in jail on a 'could have'? That was the first thing you checked, right? You can't possibly have failed to inventory the castle fireplaces by now."

"Look, it's a strange case," Rampart said quietly, not meeting her eyes. "You're right, we checked that first thing, and no pokers were missing this morning. However, one did vanish from Blueblood's room two days ago, and for obvious reasons that seems the likely source. That points to premeditation, and with two days to plan, she could have hidden it somewhere nearby where it wouldn't have been noticed."

"And is her resonance on the murder weapon from the same time as the bag?" Twilight pressed.

Rampart froze.

"Actually," he said, "the only recent resonance on the murder weapon was the victim's—"

"WHAT?" Twilight shouted.

"—which just points to premeditation again!" Rampart continued urgently. "Anypony planning murder would have known we could track them that way, and would have picked the weapon up in their mouth instead. Blueblood's trace was very fresh—between 4:45 and 5:45 a.m. His last action must have been to try to grab for it as he was fighting her off."

"And where's the evidence for that?"

Rampart swallowed. "Well, our spells found no traces of liquid or fabric fibers on the weapon shaft, so she would have had to use professional equipment like a rubber mouthguard, but we already know she came prepared—"

"You know nothing!" Twilight exploded. "Don't give me that! You can't even confirm them in the same room at the same time, and now you don't even have anything to show she had anything to do with his death? That could have been literally anypony holding the poker!"

Rampart, who had been shrinking back under her assault, straightened up a bit at that and fluffed his wings. "Not true," he said firmly. "The poker was left leaning against the only door out. That would have made it impossible for the killer to escape without teleportation. And the only unicorn whose magical trace puts them on the scene in that time period was Lady Rarity."

Twilight hesitated. "…Well, she…" Then she stopped and frowned. "Hold on. Auramancy can read regions too, can't it? A high-powered spell like teleportation would leave a trace in the room."

Rampart stiffened again. "A much more unstable and short-lived one…"

"Not unstable enough to vanish over the course of a few hours." She leaned in toward Rampart so close as to almost touch noses, and wished that she had Celestia's height to tower over him with. "Well? So whose resonance shows spellcasting in the throne room between 4 and 6 a.m.?"

Rampart's eyes flicked around the surrounding guards, to the nobles now watching with undisguised interest from the background, and even to Princess Celestia, as if searching for cover from Twilight's wrath. He swallowed. "Th-there are some facts the investigation is still in the process of accounting for—"

"Who."

"…Nobody. Not a single pony." His voice raised as he glanced around again. "Clearly we're dealing with some kind of magical anomaly, or the killer has some tricks up their sleeve, or—or—" A little fire came back into his eyes. "Or Lady Rarity walked out the door normally, and then teleported the poker to inside the door after she closed and locked it—"

"Uh-huh." Twilight's voice was flat. "She teleported the poker. And left a complete lack of magical resonance on it."

Rampart's eyes darted back and forth between Twilight and Celestia—who was now watching him with undisguised interest. He took a step back, stood straight, and tried to recover some of his lost professionalism. "As I said, there are still facts we're trying to account for. But all of the objections you're raising rule out everypony in the same way that they rule out Lady Rarity. Clearly there's an explanation, and when we find it, the other evidence will show it had to be her."

Twilight took a step forward to stay in his face. "That's not how justice works," she said with quiet menace. "Based on the evidence in your possession, it's impossible for Rarity to have killed him and left. Let her go, or I'll order you off the case and court-martial you when you refuse. Do you think any tribunal in the nation will back you up?"

"But it's a murder case!" he blurted out. "We've got to have a suspect!"

"No," Twilight growled, "it's convenient for you to have a suspect when the newspapers catch wind of this and everypony start demanding results out of the investigation. But that's not my problem." She smiled thinly. "You do realize how bad this is about to look for you, right? Arresting a national hero to cover up your lack of progress."

"No—but—" Rampart stammered, eyes whipping around the room. Then he sagged in defeat, ears lowering, and looked over to a guard at his side.

"Lady Rarity is hereby downgraded to a 'pony of interest'," he said in a bitter voice. "Release her at once."

---

Sunday, 3:18 p.m.
Canterlot Dungeons

Rarity sat up, looking over quizzically, as the guard unlocked her cell and threw the door wide. Twilight smiled gently and beckoned her forward with a wing.

Rarity closed her eyes, letting out a long and trembling breath. She shifted upright and plodded forward, leaning into a long hug with Twilight, and Twilight could feel her body shake with silent sobs.

"It's alright, Rarity," Twilight whispered. "You're free."

Rarity's body heaved again, and there was a sound along with it that sounded almost like a laugh. "I'm not, darling," she whispered. "I'm truly not. I'm not even certain you have done me a kindness. Nevertheless, I am grateful."

Twilight swallowed, and hugged Rarity a little tighter. "I…heard about your finances," she said hesitantly. "I'm going to fix that. Tell me what you need."

"Again, I'm grateful," Rarity murmured. "But it's not so simple as a lack of bits. The problem is I've failed you and failed Equestria. I'm the Element of Generosity, Twilight. How can I exemplify that if I cannot even provide for myself?"

"We've worked through harder friendship lessons," Twilight said. "We'll figure it out."

"I admire your optimism. I suspect I am ruined nonetheless. Public opinion is not so easy to repair as a loan payment."

"Nonsense," Twilight said firmly. "I forced Captain Rampart to admit in front of everypony that you weren't even a suspect any more. There's no reason for any of this to get out to the public, and we'll get your finances straightened out before they can cause any more trouble."

Rarity pulled back from Twilight with an odd look on her muzzle. "You what?…Twilight, darling, did he say what I am to the investigation now?"

"A pony of interest."

"And who are the suspects now?"

"Um," Twilight said, "unless he's had some ideas in the last half-hour, nopony."

Rarity's face fell, and she touched Twilight on the shoulder. "You're dreadfully smart, Twilight," she said quietly, "but you are not and never will be political. 'Pony of interest' is a polite way of saying that I am suspected of all but the act itself. And unless I miss my guess, you've sorely wounded the good captain's ego; no act of vengeance would be simpler nor more defensible than enumerating the 'ponies of interest' to the press in lieu of admitting his lack of leads. Twilight…I do not wish to impress upon you the weight of guilt, because I would be in equally dire straits had you not intervened, but my ruination is more or less guaranteed."

Twilight felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "What?!"

Rarity gave her a brave smile. "You tried, and for that, as I said, I am grateful."

Twilight grabbed Rarity's shoulders. "I'm not done trying. How do I fix this?"

"Frankly, I suspect my situation unfixable. But in the matter of Rampart, I would open with an apology, and then offer some quid pro quo. Assist him in his duties. Secure his political fortunes. Make him, in short, look good."

"Alright." Twilight frowned, looking away. "…I think that means finding the murderer for him."

"Then I wish you great success," Rarity said quietly. "It may buy me a day or two. For my own part…I believe I need to retire to a hotel room and soak in a hot bath for the remainder of my final evening as a respected lady."

Twilight glanced back into Rarity's eyes. "Hold on," she said with equal gentleness. "Help me help you. Anything you could tell me might be the key."

Rarity shuddered. "Please, Twilight. This is torture enough. Do not make me relive last night."

Twilight winced. "I'm sorry, but I've got to have some place to start. I have to.…How about a yes-or-no question?…No, two. Two questions and I'll leave you alone unless there's no other choice."

"Perhaps," Rarity said with some effort. "Ask."

"Did you meet anypony in the castle last night, anypony at all, besides Blueblood and that guard you bribed?"

"I'm afraid not," Rarity said, and Twilight blinked, having braced for the opposite.

"Uh, alright. Was Blueblood alive when you last saw him?"

Rarity shuddered again. "To my regret…yes."

---

Sunday, 4:46 p.m.
Canterlot Palace

Twilight's path back to the controlled chaos of the throne room spiraled through an endless series of detours and loops as she thought furiously—but every single possibility kept dead-ending in that poker propped up against the door. How could anypony possibly have left it there and gotten out, with no magical traces in the room and none but Blueblood's on the weapon?

And for that matter, why would the killer have left the murder weapon behind in such an impossible way? Why would they have left it behind at all, when they could have taken it with them and disposed of it? And if they were planning that far ahead, why use a crude tool like a stolen fireplace poker instead of, oh, say, an easily concealable knife or garrote? And how did they manage to catch Blueblood by surprise and hit him from behind while carrying such a visibly threatening—

"Twilight?" Celestia's gentle voice interrupted her thoughts.

Twilight started, and glanced up into her former mentor's eyes. Celestia gave her a pained smile. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through all this. And I'm sorry I didn't send word earlier, but as one of the key witnesses, I've been snarled up in the investigation from the beginning."

"It's alright," Twilight said, and let out a breath. "Kind of. I proved Rarity innocent, but her name's about to be dragged through the mud because I cost Captain Rampart his only suspect."

Celestia winced. "Yes. I…saw your little altercation with the captain. Tell you what, Twilight." She touched a hoof to Twilight's shoulder and smiled. "That's a political problem, and I live and breathe politics. Let me help you smooth that over." The hoof shifted up to Twilight's cheek, and Twilight blushed for a moment before she realized that it was tracing an arc under her eyes. "And once we buy you and Rarity some time, why don't you sleep on it so you can tackle the problem with a fresh mind? You look like the Book Fairy ran you over with a fully-loaded chariot."

Twilight couldn't help but laugh. "I…um…might have been up until 2 a.m. studying in my library last night," she said. "Then it was market day, and then I heard about Rarity when I got back to the castle, and I might have burned through my thaumic reserve teleporting straight to Canterlot from Ponyville, and I've been untangling impossible things since." She looked up hopefully. "Is there anything you've heard that the captain didn't tell me? We should compare notes."

"We should," Celestia said. "Tomorrow. For now, the most important thing is to make certain Rarity's reputation survives intact." She shook her head, grimacing. "The poor mare doesn't deserve this. Not after what she's been through with Blueblood."

Twilight deliberated for a moment, then asked, "What did happen between them last night?"

"Huh?" Celestia said, looking at Twilight and blinking. She tilted her head. "I haven't the foggiest, except for what I've overheard, same as you. What I meant was his vendetta against her dating back to that first Gala. All his torment of her and attempted sabotage of her businesses…I've stopped what I could, but I can't be everywhere. It seems she can't even be rid of him after he's passed on. At least there's nothing more he can do to her now."

"Yeah," Twilight said, though she had a sinking feeling that wasn't settled yet.

---

Sunday, 5:02 p.m.
Throne Room

"…We both, of course, have the utmost confidence in you, Captain. Isn't that right, Twilight?"

"Uh, yes," Twilight said with what she hoped wasn't too vigorous of a nod, and added in yet another "I'm sorry."

Rampart stood between them as if pinned to the wall. "Of course, Your Majesties. I…" He swallowed and looked into Twilight's eyes. "I'm trying my best with a matter of such urgency and sensitivity. I hope you understand."

"No hard feelings," Twilight said, and felt a little twinge of guilt. "…Alright, maybe some little hard feelings. But I forgive you. That's the important thing. I just want us to both get this right, and I don't want to make your job harder."

A wry smile curled across Rampart's muzzle. "Those are two goals that are by definition at odds, Princess. But if I can have some help running interference with the press now that word is starting to leak…"

"Of course," Celestia said.

Twilight nodded, more firmly this time. "You just focus on the investigation," she said, and grinned. "And keep me posted. I'm still technically on the team, and as long as we stick to the truth I'll go after anypony in your way with the ferocity I went after you."

Celestia raised one eyebrow at Twilight with a wry smile. Rampart just grinned back and saluted. "Yes, Princess."

"Any new suspects?" Twilight said. "Or any new information? Oh! Speaking of which, I did get a brief statement out of Rarity." She floated over a paper on which she'd written out the very tail end of their conversation.

Rampart skimmed it, nodded, and hoofed it into his saddlebags. "Thank you. Hopefully this will help." He sighed. "Unfortunately, no new leads from this end. We're running every test we can think of, and dragging in half of Canterlot University to see if we can reproduce a spell that doesn't leave any resonance. Right now, we're looking into the possibility of changelings being involved, but since they have unique and unchangeable magical frequencies the same way unicorns do, it's back to the exact same problems."

Twilight thought about that for a moment—two Bluebloods attacking each other—and blinked. "There is one killer we haven't considered yet," she said. "Blueblood."

Rampart shook his head. "This would be the world's craziest suicide, if so. But too many pieces don't fit. The location of the wound. How the poker ended up against the door."

"But it explains the mystery that confounds every other one of our theories! It's impossible for anyone to have exited the room after the poker was placed…but Blueblood never left. And we know for a fact he levitated the poker around the time of his death, and that nopony else did. There are—like you said with Rarity—a lot of weird details to straighten out, but it's not outright contradicted by our evidence, and right now that makes it uniquely worth pursuing."

Celestia thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Logically, she has a compelling point, doesn't she?"

Twilight nodded back, wheels furiously spinning in her mind. Celestia was opening her mouth to say something else when a thought sparked, and Twilight hurriedly added, "Hang on—I think I've got it!"

"Oh?" Rampart said.

"Not suicide, exactly. See…we know Blueblood and Rarity met, and she was weaponless, and the poker had vanished from Blueblood's room. He brought the poker. Blueblood was the one who swung it at Rarity." Twilight beamed. "Her actions were self-defense, not murder! And, in fact, since her resonance isn't on the weapon at all—" more pieces fell into place—"I bet she just ducked when she got attacked, and his own swing hit him and mortally wounded him on the follow-through! And then, as she was galloping for the door, he threw the poker at her. She slammed and locked it, and the poker landed propped against the door."

There was silence for a moment. Celestia—who had been staring at Twilight and making subtle hoof gestures across her neck, Twilight belatedly realized—returned her hoof to the floor and visibly winced.

"I feel compelled to warn you," Rampart said slowly, "I do have to reopen the investigation on Lady Rarity, then. Royal blackmail isn't a capital crime, but it's still a major felony in connection with the death."

"Oh," Twilight said faintly. "Uh…"

"Though I do have to say that I'm unexpectedly impressed by your commitment to following the truth wherever it may lead."

"As am I," Celestia smoothly added, "but both of you must admit the odds of a thrown fireplace poker landing point-down and leaning against the door are rather ludicrous."

"But less impossible and more comprehensive than any alternative so far," Rampart said with obvious reluctance. "As awkward as it might be, I don't think the investigation can ignore the idea. At the very least we need to establish the nature of Lady Rarity's alleged leverage and whether it might have driven him to such an act."

Celestia turned to fully face Rampart with her most royal smile. "I'm afraid I'm just an outside observer here, but it seems to me that, owing to the delicacy of the situation, such an unlikely possibility might not require immediate investigation? Perhaps you could assign some guards to it tomorrow so as not to pull them from their current leads."

Rampart shook his head. "We can't risk destruction of evidence." But his face softened at Twilight's anguished look. "Look, we can at least make it house arrest. That will be a great deal quieter and more comfortable for her."

"That would be most gracious of you, Captain," Celestia said, and turned away, clamping a wing over Twilight's back and dragging her alongside.

"Twilight," Celestia hissed once they had both exited the throne room and rounded a corner, "get some sleep."

---

Sunday, 11:44 p.m.
Twilight Sparkle's Room
Scholar Tower, Canterlot Palace

Twilight couldn't sleep.

There was the guilt, of course. Crushing, suffocating guilt. If she'd only kept her big, fat mouth shut…

But her mind was also chasing its own tail, desperately attacking the evidence from every possible angle, thinking of everything she'd been told, trying to assemble the scene in her head, playing and replaying various scenarios of Blueblood's death, inserting phantom killers into the scene and trying to remove them.

Was it Blueblood's attempted murder gone wrong? she thought, desperately trying to tear down her own theory, and after several sleepless hours she decided it couldn't have been. Rarity's been through Tartarus with me, she thought. Almost literally, in Tirek's case. If Rarity had simply dodged Blueblood trying to kill her, she wouldn't have refused to talk to me about it. Twilight grimly smiled, remembering Rarity's last words to her. And she probably would have gone back to finish the job.

So the task was clear: piece together an alternate explanation that wasn't contradicted by the facts.

She closed her eyes and assembled a timeline, start to finish. No—start to her arrival. Rampart was as flawed as any of them. Maybe there was something she wasn't being told. Something he was hiding, or didn't know, or was overlooking. Twilight had teased information out of Rarity he hadn't been able to get, after all.

She tried to imagine the throne room being swarmed by guards. The chaos of securing the scene. Photographing the body, measuring the blood pool, securing the evidence, combing the room, keeping out onlookers, calling the auramancers—

Twilight's eyes snapped open.

There was the missing clue, clear as day.

And there was a conversation that couldn't wait.

---

Sunday, 11:58 p.m.
Tower of the Sun
Canterlot Palace

"I need to talk to you about the murder," Twilight said as soon as Celestia had shooed out her guards and closed the door. "Here. Now."

Celestia gave her a strained smile, lighting her horn to adjust the collar of her nightgown. "I understand how important this is to you, Twilight," she said, "but I dearly hope you're willing to give my suggestion of a good night's sleep some consideration."

Twilight's resolve wavered, but only for a moment. She drew a deep breath. "No," she said. "Which is to say, I tried. But this can't wait."

Celestia let out a little huff-sigh and nodded, the smile never leaving her muzzle. "Go ahead."

"Alright," Twilight said, and steeled herself. "Let's say, hypothetically, I was going to ask your alibi for the murder as part of the investigation. What would you say?"

Celestia blinked and tensed—and then she nodded again, her smile growing gentle and sympathetic and sad, and her posture relaxed. "I understand, Twilight," she said. "Justice is blind; the investigation has to suspect everypony, and it's rattling your foundation that you might discover something uncomfortable about me the same way you did Rarity. Right?"

"Right," Twilight said, stomach twisting.

"To answer your question, I was sleeping all night. By happy chance, I had tailors working overnight in my parlor on a dress for tonight's ball, and they can testify I didn't leave my bedroom. My bedroom will also test free of spell residue. My hoofmaidens got me up about 45 minutes before sunrise, and I took a shower—I'm sure they were listening to my humming from here. After they helped me get dressed, I was with the guards until the body was found."

Twilight stared at Celestia's gentle expression for a while, and slowly nodded. "Would I be correct that you handled the murder weapon in your horngrip when the throne room door was opened, by the way?"

"That's correct." Celestia was holding Twilight's stare, and her face was a modem of patient cooperation. "I'm afraid it fell in such a way as to block the door, and we didn't know it was a murder scene yet."

Twilight's gaze dropped to the carpet. She wasn't making this easy.

"Is there anything else?" Celestia gently prompted.

"I suppose so," Twilight said, staring back into Celestia's eyes again. "Again, hypothetically, if I were asking you questions as part of the investigation ... given how both of us affirmed the logic of suicide just a few hours ago, why haven't you commented on my repeatedly asking you about the murder just now?"

A muscle in Celestia's jaw twitched.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

Twilight waited, gut crumpling into a tiny ball.

"I'm sorry," Celestia said softly, "I'm just trying to figure out where to start. I could ask just how hypothetical this really is, but the answer doesn't actually matter. You're smart, Twilight, terribly smart, and I won't insult you by playing bluffing games with what we both know and don't know. And half of what I want to say is irrelevant because the damage to your trust has already been done." Celestia opened her eyes and turned toward her kitchenette, floating a teapot and some leaves toward the sink. "Let's start, then, with a fact: Prince Blueblood took his own life. And another fact: Tomorrow morning, test results will show that at his time of death he'd just eaten a wafer of potent magical poison."

"Tell me everything," Twilight said faintly.

Celestia glanced back over her shoulder as the teapot filled. "Are you sure? If we both go to sleep now, then you'll wake up with Rampart realizing that Blueblood's death was a suicide intended to look like a murder, and that he was framing Rarity. That's enough to allow the inquest to be closed without dragging an innocent victim's secrets into the light. The blackmail investigation can be handled separately and more discreetly. You both get the happy ending. If I tell you anything beyond that—" Celestia's voice grew faint—"you'll have some hard choices to make, indeed."

"Better that than to always wonder," Twilight said quietly.

"I figured. But I had to ask." Celestia smiled wryly. "First of all, I owe you an apology. I owe Rarity an apology. I had no idea she would be caught up in this, and her involvement has very nearly unraveled all the good I was trying to accomplish. I'm truly sorry, and that doesn't count for much, but I'm doing all I can to make it right."

"Sorry for what?"

Celestia set the teapot on her stove. "For my part in this, of course. Blueblood…among his many other vile acts, for years he has forced himself on the palace staff, time and time again. Luna and I tried everything possible to rehabilitate him, or even rein him in, but he simply got craftier about his transgressions, threatening his victims into silence. The final straw was two days ago. When he learned he had impregnated a maid named Feather Duster, he beat her to death with a fireplace poker rather than risk her condition alerting us to his actions—and then disposed of her body, blaming her disappearance on her running away."

Twilight's face paled.

"Yes," Celestia continued, "that poker. There's no going back from that, Twilight; he had to be dealt with. But turning him over to the law would have caused a scandal that would have ruined us all for a mere slap on the wrist—he destroyed and befouled too much evidence for the murder charge to stick, and he's long been the favored son of the Canterlot nobility that would have comprised his jury. So I arranged a private confrontation, and gave him a choice: He could end his own life amid a scandal that would blow over quickly, and gain quiet burial of his history of misdeeds; or I would release to the public every last indiscretion we could document, and while it would ruin our own reputations for a generation or more, his name would go down in history as a curse word for villainy."

"You teleported into the throne room with the poker," Twilight said. "Your handling of the weapon was cloaked by picking it up when you arrived at sunrise, and your teleportation spell was cloaked by your daily routine of raising the sun from the throne room."

"The poison he chose to take was a concentrated numbing agent, paralytic in high doses," Celestia said. "He was dead by the time I hit him, but even if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have felt anything." She sighed. "I did misaim the blow slightly, but didn't dare to try again and ruin the effect even more."

"But why set up such a murder scene? Why not just let him die of the poison?"

"As justice," Celestia said quietly. "The death would have been—very briefly—blamed on the missing mare, until it became interpreted as a suicide with which Blueblood intended to cast suspicion on her, by maiming himself with a weapon once numb. That would have cleared her name of his earlier aspersions, and justified us in awarding the family a restitution payment. Unfortunately, Blueblood was also meeting Rarity that same night, and the miscast blame shone an unintended light on her woes…as well as led to your involvement, and this talk. Again, I'm sorry."

Twilight thought. "Was Rampart in on it? He never told me about your handling of the poker or your sun-raising."

"Not as such," Celestia said. "He did, in fact, investigate my alibi, and I'm sure he found it as suspicious as you did. But to have accused a princess of murder, or even intimated he suspected me, without unimpeachable evidence would have ended his career. And he himself authorized my solar raising. That put him in a desperate bind to find any other solution, which I was counting on to help sell the staged-murder angle."

A whistle began to build from the teapot, and Celestia removed it from heat and poured two cups of smoky grey tea. "Which leads us to your hard choice, I'm afraid. Now that you know the truth, Twilight, either you have to turn me in or become an accessory to that death. A well-justified death, I'd like to think…Blueblood was a monster, no less so than Tirek or Sombra. But if I only ever listen to my own judgment, there's nothing stopping me from becoming the monster that he was." Celestia set down the teapot and closed her eyes. "I didn't kill Blueblood, at least not in any way that a court of law will execute me for—but with your testimony of my confession, they can strip me of my throne and duties. If you think that's what I deserve, I swear by my sun I won't resist or retaliate in any way. And if not…" her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then both our souls are a tiny bit darker tonight."

Twilight closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Then she picked up the second teacup, and silently took a sip.

Celestia smiled, with infinite pain and weariness, and sipped her tea.

---

Moonday, 10:14 a.m.
Room 1410, Canterlot Hayatt Regency

"It turns out he committed suicide," Twilight said, staring carefully at a smudge in the paint two meters to the left of the suite's biggest wall art. "In a way designed to frame somepony for his death. Captain Rampart has been quite understanding of the principle that publicizing the 'murder' angle would just be enabling Blueblood to victimize you one last and cruelest time. The records of the investigation are going to be sealed as soon as he makes today's announcement."

Rarity sat up, hope creeping into her expression for the first time since the arrest. "Sealed? He…it's all staying private? Twilight, I barely know what to say. Thank you. Thank you."

Twilight chewed her lip for a moment. "That's not all, Rarity. I…think I understand what happened two nights ago." She tried to put as much empathy in her voice as possible. "You never had blackmail material on him. That's not you. He had some on you—and I don't want to know what. I don't want to know why. Let it die with him. You're my friend, and nothing else matters."

"Twilight," Rarity whispered, and her voice held so much gratitude that Twilight didn't have to turn around to know there were tears spilling down her cheeks.

She kept her gaze firmly on that smudge. "And…Rarity." Somehow, this felt like the hardest part—harder than confronting Celestia, even harder than staring at the ceiling marinating in failure. "If…if you ever want to talk about what he did to you two nights ago…"

For a moment, it was too much. Instead, Twilight closed her eyes and pictured an unmarked grave on the slopes outside the city, perhaps never to be found. I can't help you, she thought. But I can remember you.

"I can't imagine what that was like for you," Twilight said. "But you weren't the only one he did that to. You're not alone. And if you ever want some help to start healing…I'll be right here."

White hooves tightened around Twilight's chest, and Rarity clung to Twilight, wordlessly sobbing.

Twilight turned around and held her friend until both of their tears were dry.