Five Tales

The Liberation War, Year 1.

6 months After Battle of Canterlot, (A.B.C.)

Operation Crescent. Day 73.

Rarity always considered herself a down-to-earth pony. She was genuine and sincere. Others always came before her. And though she could be self-indulgent at times, her thoughts and intentions were always for the betterment of those she loved. She had learned as much from her best friends, back when life was good.

The old faces of those five friends flashed in her thoughts. All of them smiling, happy to see her. More than ever, Rarity wished she could find them all and simply hug them. To feel their warmth and their love.

But now was not the time for wishes. Now was the time for lies.

Rarity looked into the pristine mirror. The pony who looked back was the mask she wore. A sheared horn, recently filed down to curb its growth. A pampered mane, catered to retain an alluring gleam. Fur kept brushed and clean after every night, highlighting her elegant curves and inviting breasts.

And lastly, a bright, red collar with golden laced trim clamped firmly around her throat.

She put a hand to the collar, tracing the tailored marks with her fingers. The metal ring laying against the crease in her collarbone was warm from her body heat.

Her reflection frowned. Rarity hated seeing herself like this. She had already spent years as a false supporter of the caribou, despising herself for the things she had to do to others under the name of a cruel leadership. The most she had ever been able to do was allow her sister, Sweetie Belle, to escape into the woods one night. The punishment Rarity received the next day nearly broke her.

Though the collar on her neck brought those dreadful memories back, Rarity knew how to get by. She reminded herself of two very important things.

The collar was temporary. And that among her façade, she was not alone.

Taking a minute to test various smiles of seduction, Rarity straightened herself upon the dresser’s stool as the nearby door opened.

A stallion emerged, clothed in a prim and taught suit fit for the upper class of pre-Fall Manehatten. His mane was gelled back and rife with the scent of expensive shampoo, while a small pair of glasses with no real use rested on his snout.

Rarity had known this stallion for a long time. She knew little about him as a pony, but being under his training and crop was the equivalent of ‘knowing’ a stallion in this place. He gripped a leash in his left hand, though made no moves towards Rarity. She rested her hands upon her thighs as she turned to him.

“It looks like our time together is at an end, my pet. Are you ready to meet your new owner?” He asked plainly. There was not a tone of malice in his words, nor was there much care.

“Yes, master. The caribou captain, right?” Rarity cooed, her voice innocent and lofty. She had grown used to inflating her fake accents in recent times. Though naturally she was very good at manipulating her levels of speech.

“He’s not a captain. He’s the Primus. The leader of the very force which keeps Manehatten safe. I thought I had told you this before.”

“I’m sorry, master. I forgot.”

“Bah, it’s no matter. We don’t train mares to remember many things anyway. I’m glad you have made yourself presentable. Unlike his subordinates, the Primus prefers his mares to be of the utmost purity. I have no doubt that you will please him.”

Rarity smiled as the stallion hooked the leash to her collar’s ring. She obediently rose and followed her master out of the door, and towards the sounds of a lavish nighttime party.

In the eyes of her male masters, Rarity was one of the best trained slaves in Manehatten. Her golden laced red collar signified her status among her peers. Because of this, she never required restraint unless wanted by her dominant. For the current occasion, her master had fastened a pair of red cuffs upon her wrists. A light, golden chain linked the cuffs together, though it was long enough for Rarity to rest her hands at her sides.

Rarity was brought out into the luxury hall, one of many smaller sections of the sky-high city penthouses of Horizon Towers. Stallions and caribou stags of the Elite mingled about, accompanied by their entourages of red collared mares, all willing servants to their whims. Though the air was heavy with perfume and cologne, it did little to hide their bilge-water stench. Even before the Liberation War broke out, Manehatten’s fresh water reservoirs were poorly managed under the caribou. By now, they’ve been nearing depletion, forcing the Elite to use the harbor water to bathe themselves. In some ways, it made them even more putrid smelling than their slaves, who were rarely permitted to bathe at all.

The Elite differed from the usual patriarchal society of the early Fall. There was never any qualms with enjoying pleasure out in the open at any given time, but privacy was a much more coveted state among these privileged males. While the local caribou didn’t care for it much, the Elite stallions would often times take their willing slaves to a ‘dark room’ to spend their intimate time. Many of the males who felt the need to release would command their pets to service them while in the sanctity of these rooms.

The Elite of Manehatten were a fickle and snobbish group. They only tolerated mares who were red collars, and created an intricate system with help from caribou supporters to classify red collars into sub-groups. Hence why the most revered slaves, such as Rarity, are accented with golden features. Of the population of black-collared mares in the city, they were never brought into gatherings such as these until they were properly house-broken, so to speak. Purple collars, while rarely produced in the city, were often times thrown into empty alleys or into open sewers when deemed unsuitable.

As she was led through the hall, Rarity passed by many more attendees. One stallion, wearing a beige trench coat, stood along their path.

“Mr. Ballpoint?” He asked, stepping forward. Only inches away from Rarity’s side.

“Yes?”

“A letter for you. From your receptionist.”

“Ah, I’ve been expecting this. Thank you.” Mr. Ballpoint replied, taking the letter and slipping it into his vest pocket for later.

The other stallion nodded respectively before taking his leave, moving past Rarity and heading in the opposite direction.

Rarity made no sound, glancing back at the umber-brown stallion as she was led forward. His orange-red eyes glanced back from beneath the pointed fringes of his silver mane. A tucked away smile formed on his lips as his eyes met Rarity’s, before he disappeared behind another door.

Rarity returned to her facing position. She clenched her fist gently, keeping the tiny key which was slipped to her hidden in between her fingers.

Their short journey through the luxurious halls and elegant living rooms came to a close as Rarity and her master stopped in the midst of a recreational room, populated by several Elite males and their pets. Rarity’s new owner was already before her, having risen from his seat.

The caribou was unique among most of his kind, being more slender than stocky in build. Instead of the usual brutish demeanor and carefree disposition, this caribou carried a strange charm with him, appearing as though he was not the type to get himself dirty. He dressed like a diplomat, bearing his decorations and the sigil of the ‘peacekeeping’ force which held Manehatten; The Cabal.

This one caribou was the whole reason Rarity was here.

“Greetings, Primus Asmund. I hope you have been enjoying your night.”

“I am, thank you Mister Ballpoint. And is this who I think it is?”

Rarity took a step forward, smiling lustfully at the Primus. He frisked her with his eyes alone, while bearing a polite smile.

“Indeed it is. I hope that this gift will be a sign of the continued partnership between the Manehatten Elite and the Cabal. Undoubtedly, without your protection, none of us would be here.” The stallion remarked humbly as he presented Rarity’s leash to Primus Asmund.

The caribou kept his eyes on Rarity a moment longer before processing the stallion’s words, instinctually taking the leash’s end in his hand.

“She is a fine gift, thank you. Speaking on behalf of the Cabal, I could not be more grateful for your cooperation. Keeping this city orderly and in the right hands is of the utmost importance, especially during these times of unrest.”

“Absolutely,” said the stallion, “Please enjoy the rest of your evening, Primus. Let me or any of my assistants know if you require anything.”

“I will, thank you.”

As swiftly as the stallion departed, Primus Asmund tugged lightly on Rarity’s leash, motioning her to walk beside him. They exited the occupied lounge and moved through a lonely hallway. As they did, the Primus began to speak. His voice was articulate and full of charisma.

“I’ve known Mister Ballpoint for some time now. He’s renowned for his abilities in training mares, and even cows. He’s used his skills for us ever since we arrived in Equestria. Back when things were peaceful, when we didn’t have a war threatening to ruin everything… That aside, he has told me that you are his greatest creation. And that no other mare is quite like you.”

“I have been trained to tend to your every need and obey your every command, master. I hope you find me to your liking.” Rarity stated, allowing herself to flutter her words, yet remembering to be humble.

“I already do. Though I would like to have a sample before taking you home.”

Opening the door of a nearby dark room, Asmund brought Rarity inside, leaving the door open behind him.

The dark room, like many others, once used to be a private apartment available to the wealthy. Now, it served as an extravagantly sinister play room. A large bed was centered in the room, flanked by various shelves filled with sex toys and racks perfect for restraining any mare in any number of ways. The lights installed were deliberately dimmed down to provide a preferred atmosphere, though this feature was mostly favored by the stallions of the Elite.

As he flicked on the lights of the dark room, the Primus retrieved a long and durable chain, hooking the clipped end onto the lighter chain binding Rarity’s wrists. He took the other end and looped it through a wide ring hanging from the ceiling, easily reaching it with his height.

He pulled the chain taut, hoisting Rarity’s arms up with it. The ring was high enough to lift Rarity up off the floor, leaving her standing on her tip-toes. She let out a soft moan in delight.

The Primus whispered into Rarity’s ear.

“I have my tastes. And you fit them. But I have to see if you can truly service me. Don’t let my mannerisms fool you. If you can’t take the roughest I can give, then you aren’t worth my time.”

Rarity slowly cracked a smile.

“Of course… but I have my tastes as well, Primus Asmund …”

K-K-CLICK

The dark room’s door suddenly closed. The muzzle of a fire dart pistol pressed against the back of the Primus’ head.

“And you fit none of them.”

The new presence spoke up.

“Hands in the air. Back away.” The silver-maned stallion spoke plainly, donned in a familiar trench coat.

Rarity took her key and removed her cuffs, letting them hang from the chain as she regained a solid footing on the floor.

Asmund held his hands up, stepping away as instructed. The stallion unflinchingly kept his pistol’s end firmly against the caribou’s skull.

“You’re not one of Ballpoint’s mares.” Asmund breathed.

“I never was to begin with, no. Despite the credit he receives, any good actress could fool him. We’ve been waiting for this moment, Asmund.” Rarity replied, using her normal tone of voice.

“So then you’re the Alliance spies I’ve been hearing so much about. The Cabal knows about your presence in the city.”

“Saboteurs, actually. Though spying is indeed part of the job. Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?”

Rarity looked Asmund straight in the eyes, her own expression turning utterly serious.

“The schematics for the harbor wall section. If you please.”

Asmund smiled. “I don’t have them, if that’s what you were hoping for. I’m not as dimwitted as you might have expected.”

Shouting and boots stomping rumbled from beyond the door, signaling the impending arrival of unexpected company. Cabal soldiers.

Before Rarity could speak another word, the stallion struck Asmund’s head with the butt of his pistol, knocking him out cold.

“Corbeau! I wasn’t done questioning him!” exclaimed Rarity.

The stallion looked up as he hurriedly scoured Amsund’s body. “Judging by the stampeded of caribou coming down the hall, I’ve figured we’re out of time… Dammit, he was right, he doesn’t have them.”

“He knows where the plans are. We should take him with us!”

“Have you forgotten about our own escape? I’m only carrying one of you, and by Celestia it’s going to be you!”

“Wait, wha-AA!”

Moving swiftly, Corbeau scooped Rarity with one arm and punched the other through the nearby window, using his concealed gauntlet to clear out the sharp glass. A cold wind gushed in, giving Rarity shivers.

“I do hope the escape plan doesn’t consist of plummeting to our deaths.” Rarity queried, retaining a calm demeanor despite the situation. Corbeau shared her composure.

“The escape plan was to take the stairs. This is plan ‘B’.”

Taking only seconds to align himself, Corbeau carefully and skillfully aimed his gauntlet at a building rooftop adjacent to their tower, clutching his fist to activate its unique mechanism. A burst of compressed air launched a small grappling hook from the side of the gauntlet, trailing behind it a lengthy and durable rope line. The hook found purchase on the faraway rooftop, allowing Corbeau to detach his end of the line and anchor it to the top of the window sill.

Corbeau tested the rope line with his gloved hand before grabbing hold, keeping his other arm around Rarity. She clung to him tightly as they jumped, leaving the window just as the Cabal soldiers burst into the room.

Corbeau’s gloved hand loosened to give them more speed as they zip-lined to their destination, gliding down underneath a crescent Moon. Though their landing was cut short as a Cabal soldier cut their anchor from the window. The line snapped loose, dropping Rarity and Corbeau several feet above their landing point. Had the caribou soldier cut their line seconds sooner, and they would have missed the rooftop entirely.

Moving instinctually, Corbeau tried to place himself first so that he could take most of the impact, but their speed caused them to careen away from each other as they landed on the flat roof. While Corbeau only received a few scratches and the wind knocked out of him, Rarity’s landing wasn’t as clean.

“Ahh…ghahhh… Oh dear…” Rarity panted, placing a hand on the back of her left thigh. The sting forced her to recoil, the fur and skin of her leg severely scraped.

Corbeau quickly moved to help her, noting her raw skin slowly seeping blood from below her white fur. He shed his trench coat and closed it around Rarity’s shoulders as she began lifting herself up.

“I’m sorry, I should have taken that fall for you.” he asked, guilt in his tone.

Rarity shuddered from her injury, straining herself to keep a smile on her muzzle. “We didn’t have much time to think… Don’t blame yourself. We should get back to the Keep as quickly as possible. I can walk.”

Taking Corbeau’s hand, Rarity got to her feet, regaining her balance. The rough ground prodded at her exposed feet, and as she stepped, her wounded leg wobbled.

“Maybe I should carry you.” Corbeau offered. Rarity let out a sigh, her smile weaker.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. I was a firefighter once, remember?” Corbeau replied with an assuring grin, carefully lifting Rarity into his arms. She winced from her injuries as they made their way towards a nearby stairwell, knowing that danger could still be close behind.

Like many of Equestria’s grand cities, Manehatten was a shadow of its former self, though only in the eyes of those who wished it free. Under the control of the stallion Elite and their caribou Cabal protectors, Manehatten was an autonomous entity, cut off from the world by a massive wall built by the caribou, similar to those which once encircled Canterlot and the Crystal Empire. The wall and its defenses would have made any attempt by the Haven Alliance to advance on the city result in a costly siege. Thus, Alliance leaders, with Princess Luna’s advice, took the outlying areas of the city, trapping the caribou held metropolis inside Alliance controlled territory. The task of taking the city, labeled as Operation Crescent, would fall to the infiltrator units of the Alliance, known as the Saboteurs.

Manehatten was a nigh-impenetrable fortress, save for one subtle weakness. A flaw in the section of wall built through the city harbor was the key to allowing the city to be liberated, but that flaw’s exact details were unknown. Rarity’s endeavors to find the plans specifying the harbor wall’s weakness have ended in failure after failure. With another failed mission to add to the list, the hope of ever finding the plans had begun to fade.

But that kind of thought did nobody any favors. For now, Rarity pushed on through her pain as Corbeau carried her past dim streetlamps and empty sidewalks.

“Good so far. This alley should be the one.” Corbeau said.

The two rounded about a street corner, heading deep into a barely lit alleyway between two massive buildings. The strict alley winded further downward, splitting into multiple forks at a cross-section. A maintenance hole lied tucked away in a nearby corner, covered by a trashcan with unintelligible graffiti.

Corbeau stopped at the maintenance hole, setting Rarity down on her feet beside him. Reaching into one of his holsters, he drew out his folding blade, a signature weapon of the Saboteurs. He gave the thin, unassuming rod a whisk, unfurling it into a lightweight yet sturdy short sword. He stuck the edge of the blade in a subtle and specialized slot near the edge of the maintenance hole’s metal cover. Only a few seconds passed before the cover flipped open automatically.

Snapping his folding blade back, Corbeau offered Rarity his hand, lowering her steadily into the blackness below. Her bare feet dipped into the ankle-deep water of the darkened sewer, giving her a chill as Corbeau soon followed. The maintenance hole cover slid back into place only seconds later, leaving them in pitch black.

The dark didn’t last for long as Rarity managed to find the oil lantern stashed nearby, checking its oil and lighting it with a creaking twist of its switch. She held the lantern up, its light spreading out just enough to envelop both Rarity and Corbeau.

“Thank you for being on time back there, Corbeau. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see you in that hallway.” Said Rarity, pulling the edge of Corbeau’s trench coat with her free hand to cover herself. It was more for warmth than anything. She had grown used to being naked for extended periods of time while under cover.

“I didn’t want to be late by even a second. You’d been holding up that guise for months. It’s about time you got to be yourself again.”

Rarity exhaled. “I couldn’t agree more. I don’t think I’ll really ever get a chance to pull off something like that again in this city, not after that calamity.”

“It’s not your fault. Our intelligence was scarce to begin with. Even if Asmund didn’t have the physical set of schematics on him, he knows where they are. We still have a chance to get them.”

“But now he knows what we’re after. He’ll do everything in his power to thwart our attempts at finding them.”

“Then we’ll have to stay one step ahead of him.” Corbeau smiled, taking the lantern from Rarity and holding it out towards the path ahead, “Once we get to the Keep, we can get those scrapes looked at. And trade in that collar for your clothes. Do you need me to carry you, or…?”

“No need, Corbeau. I’ve already tired you out enough for tonight.”

Guided by the shimmering light of their lantern, the two Saboteurs traversed the foul sewers, treading along the thick and dirty water channeled at the base of the tunnels. Manehatten’s complex system of sewers had been around ever since the city’s founding, making many of the stone channels nearly centuries old. The Alliance Saboteurs had made full use of them to move about the city undetected. Though the sheer amount of tunnels and passages made navigating them a chore.

The sewers didn’t make it easy for Saboteurs to enter Manehatten in large numbers. Most of the exits and entrances were connected to the rivers or the bays, which were constantly watched by the Cabal. Very few instances arose when the Saboteurs could receive reinforcements or supplies.

The watery sewage drew higher on Rarity and Corbeau’s legs as the stone channels sunk deeper. Soon, the tunnel passage had turned into a flooded waterway.

“Here,” Corbeau stopped, giving the lantern to Rarity, “Hold this.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you-oww!”

Crouching forward while backing up, Corbeau stuck his hands behind him and wrapped them around Rarity’s thighs, heaving her on his back while doing his best to avoid aggravating her leg.

“Sorry. The water’s going to get a bit deeper up ahead. We don’t want your wounds to get dirtied by the sewage.”

“Thank you, Corbeau.” Rarity said, curling one arm around Corbeau’s shoulders while holding up the lantern with the other.

Corbeau chuckled. “Actually, I just wanted to have my coat back.

Rarity rolled her eyes with a smirk. “How chivalrous of you.”

Trudging through the knee-deep waters of the sewers, Rarity and Corbeau finally reached their destination; a service stairwell door marked with a bright blue circle. Two dials sat above the door knob, marked with several random numbers.

As Rarity was set down, she returned the lantern to her partner and began fiddling with the dials by memory. Soon after, an audible click signaled the successful input.

Rarity steadily pushed the heavy door open, revealing a set of stairs leading upwards. The climb was long and aching, but soon enough, they were at their final stop; The Keep.

The stairs abruptly ended at a small platform, hosting another door. Instead of dials, this door had a small viewing slot.

Rarity patiently knocked on the door, prompting the slot to open. A mare’s eyes appeared, widening upon seeing the two tired Saboteurs.

“The Lady’s back!” said the mare, quickly closing the slot. A series of locks unlatched from the other side, allowing the door to be swung inward.

Rarity and Corbeau entered the room as the watchmare secured the door behind them. The room was a common sight for Rarity; an equipment and briefing space used by Saboteurs preparing to venture out into the city. There were many others like it, and it was only a small part of what was the headquarters of the Haven Alliance’s Manehatten Saboteurs. More specifically, the 2nd Cell Saboteurs, led by Lady Rarity herself.

Several medical ponies waiting for their arrival rushed to Rarity and Corbeau. One immediately began wrapping a light cloth over Rarity’s wound.

“Let’s get you over to med ward, Lady Rarity. You must’ve taken a nasty fall.”

“It’s really not that bad, honestly. No need to rush-”

“‘Ey.” The medical mare interrupted, her Manehatten accent thickening her words, “You say that every time you get yourself hurt. Med ward. Now.”

With bandages tightened around her upper thigh and along portions of her waist, Rarity rested on an old cot in the Keep’s medical ward. She had only just woken up from a quick nap, though as she glanced at the clock, she realized her nap lasted much longer than she wanted. It was already morning.

Rarity stretched as she slipped out of the covers of the cot. Noticing her awake, the head of the med ward staff approached her, a unicorn mare sporting a long coat. Though it was a muddied brown, it was the closest thing to a doctor’s lab coat to be found. She handed Rarity a small mug filled with a soothing tea.

“I hope you still like green tea. It’s still the only kind we have. We literally have tons of it.” Said Doctor Novelle with a joking tone.

Rarity smirked, taking a gentle sip of her tea as the doctor pulled up a stool next to Rarity’s cot.

“I’m not entirely fond of it, but it will do. Though if our operation takes any longer I may just throw the boxes into the harbor.”

Novelle let out a chuckle. “I don’t think any of us would mind. Tea’s pretty bad for your teeth anyway. Now, let’s take another look at your leg.”

The doctor briefly examined Rarity’s healing injuries, lifting her left leg and bending it forward and back. She stopped as Rarity tried to hide a wince, and instead scooched up to sit beside her head.

“Your leg checks out ok, but try to avoid any daring chases for the next few days. How’s your neck feeling?”

“Much better. Thanks to you, of course.”

It indeed felt good to be rid of the red collar Rarity had to wear for months, and she was ever grateful for the skills of Doctor Novelle. Though she wasn’t the only unicorn with a usable horn in the Saboteur HQ, the good doctor was the only one who had spent time studying caribou rune inscriptions, and learning how to manipulate them using magic. It was a lot harder than most would believe, and currently the only runes the doctor could modify were those used in collars.

“Well, before I became a doctor, I always had a passion for linguistics. Just a coincidence that our conquerors happen to center most of their feats on runes.”

After finishing her examination of Rarity, Doctor Novelle completes the checkup. She gets to her feet.

“You’re all good to go, Lady Rarity. Corbeau and the Keeper are waiting for you just above the Veil floors. Once you’ve gotten your clothes that is.”

“Thank you kindly, Doctor Novelle.” Rarity said, shaking the doctor’s hand before exiting the room, only to quickly double back to borrow a patient robe to cover herself. Even though the clothing storage was only one floor below, Rarity would rather not spend time walking around in nothing but her undergarments.

Taking the stairs down from the sixteenth floor, Rarity entered under through a doorway labeled ‘15th’ and found her way to one of the many rooms dedicated to storage lockers, filled with extra clothing and working attire for general use. Most were either brought into the city through stealthy means or salvaged from dumps and pits that weren’t set ablaze.

Rarity opened one of the many lockers, revealing a small collection of clothing she had kept for use while in the Keep. Her Saboteur gear was kept on a separate floor, the twentieth along with the armory. She sifted through the space and patiently suited up in her standard leading attire; Utility pants and boots with a warm top and a short frock coat. The coat was a bright grey, not a color Rarity was fond of, but she didn’t complain. It didn’t look so bad when she wore the sky-blue scarf she had found among some riff-raff on the streets.

Content with her appearance, Rarity set out to leave the locker storage room, only to have nearly collided with another pony, who was carrying a huge pile of extra clothing within her arms.

“Let me help you, darling.” Rarity said instinctively, taking the top portion of the clothes, which revealed the head of the mare holding them. An aqua blue pair of eyes partially covered by a similarly shaded mane gasped.

“Oh, Lady Rarity! Thank you so much. I wasn’t expecting to, uhm… see you here.”

“I had only just left the medical ward. I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Oh no, sorry. My name’s Coco Pommel. I’m just another refugee that was saved not too long ago, while you were on that mission. I’ve been, uhm… meaning to say hi to you. Manehatten’s my hometown.”

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, Coco Pommel. I’m Rarity. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Coco Pommel smiled sheepishly, “I uhm… I heard that you were once a fashion designer, before the Fall. Those years ago, I was starting out here in Manehatten as a seamstress. I was able to get a job, though the boss I had wasn’t very nice. Maybe… You could teach me a bit of what you know once this is all over?”

The thought was a comforting one. Rarity hadn’t truly designed a piece of fashion in years. Ponies nowadays didn’t need excessive colors or elegant fabrics. If it covered you and kept you warm, it was all you needed. Though Rarity was hopeful that once Equestria was healed, the appreciation for the cultural significance of fine clothing would return.

Hearing Coco Pommel ask for her teaching in the future brought a little warmth to Rarity’s chest.

“I would be delighted to teach you, Coco. When the time is right, that is. For now, don’t be afraid to let me know if you need help with anything. I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I must meet with Keeper.”

“Ok. It was great meeting you.” said Coco, waving goodbye as Rarity departed for the elevators.

The old yet functional elevator came to a mechanical halt as it reached its destined stop on the seventh floor of the building. The doors slid open, allowing Rarity to walk out onto the open floor. The red carpet and cream-colored walls were reminiscent of the upper levels of a hotel lobby.

Just ahead of her stood Corbeau, leaning slightly against a large railing. Beside him was the Keeper, who turned around as Corbeau noticed Rarity approach. The grey coated and black maned mare wore a deep blue great coat, coupled with a white scarf. She was completely outfitted in her Saboteur equipment, with pouches lining several belts and a holster strapped to her leg holding a fire dart pistol. Another set of loose holsters along her waist held two folding blades.

“Welcome back Rarity. We’ve missed you.” Octavia stated, smiling as she removed her hands from behind her.

“Thank you very much, Octavia. You don’t know how happy I am to be back here.”

“I could fancy a guess,” she gently grinned, “Corbeau informed me of your mission’s outcome. I’m sorry that our intelligence was not as reliable as it should have been.”

Rarity frowned, letting out a sigh of defeat. “The only pony to be blamed is myself. But I won’t wallow. We’ll just have to keep looking. How has the Keep been faring?”

Octavia turned back to look over the railing, prompting Rarity to do the same. The ledge led to an opening which gave view to all of the six floors below, known as the Veil floors. The view was blanketed by a dark canvas, which hung from several anchors on the railings of the seventh floor. It was made of a type of fabric which acted like a two-way mirror. Anyone looking down could see the activities of the lower floors, but anyone looking up would only see a ceiling. The special tarp was only one crucial part of keeping the Veil floors separate from the rest of the floors above. The other part were the ponies.

Rarity could partially make out ponies on the six floors below. They were mostly red collared mares, with a few stallions here and there and even some caribou stags. The ponies at the lobby entrance at the very bottom were nothing more than tiny dots.

Octavia spoke up. “Our base has been operating nominally. Supplies are numerous enough to sustain both our refugees and our personnel for the time being. From what the numbers indicate, however, we may not have much time left before the freshwater sources we have dry up. Not to re-iterate the pressing need to acquire those plans, but… We’re on the clock. Now more than ever.”

Rarity did her best to not show any stress. “How about the Veil floors?”

“I presumed that you’d want to hear about them from Mr. Haybale himself. He knows more about the intricacies of… well. The work that keeps us safe. He should be here any moment.” Octavia said.

True to the Keeper’s words, a nearby service stairwell door clicked from the other side, opening to reveal two ponies. One was an older stallion, with a blue coat and a mustard mane and eyes, wore a pristine suite and a bright red bowtie. While it was no high-class Elite elegance, it gave him enough manly charm to pass as a respectable owner of a caribou-approved establishment. A bushy mustache graced his lips, as smooth and swirly as his combed mane.

Beside him was a much more familiar sight, a mare hastily putting on a light shirt to cover her bare self. Her green coat and mane stood out amongst the red floors and dull gold of the hotel walls, as did her pink eyes. She appeared as she was removing her red collar, and replacing it with a pink flower to go in her mane. The very same pink flower that Rarity had given her back in Haven.

“Rarity!”

“Meadow! It’s wonderful to see you, darling!” Rarity said, embracing her friend.

“You too! I’m sorry I’m not dressed very well.”

“Not to worry. You look exquisite with that flower, as always. I do hope you and the others on the Veil floors have been managing alright. I feel awful for having to put you all through that business every day. Even though as important as it is to keep up the guise of the Keep.”

“It’s ok Rarity.” Meadow assured, “We were all red collars at one point. We’re used to this, and we don’t mind it. Now that we can do things like this and for a better cause, we manage just fine. Also thanks to Mr. Haybale for taking good care of us.”

“Quite right,” the well-dressed stallion spoke, “Per your instructions, Lady Rarity, every pony is being kept healthy and well-treated. ‘Meadow’s Mares’, as I believe the unofficial title is, are a tough bunch. They can take it all and then some, in the most modest terms of speaking.”

“I never doubted them for a second.” Said Rarity, winking to Meadow before turning back to Mr. Haybale, “And the Hotel?”

“Ah, yes. The Haybale Hotel remains one of the more subtle, but widely appreciated red collar brothels among the lower-class communities of caribou in the city. Most of the Elite, when bored, devote their attention to the more populous Mane Fair Hotel up north. This gives us plenty of breathing room, suffice to say. No suspicions have been uttered about anything but empty and decaying rooms lying above our six Veil floors.” Mr. Haybale confidently stated. He placed his hands behind him before bowing respectfully to Rarity.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Rarity, I must continue to attend to the lobby on the first floor. When you’re ready Meadow, please return to your duties.”

Mr. Haybale strode back towards the service door. The stallion’s confidence showed clearly in his stride, and reminded Rarity how fortunate they were to have Mr. Haybale on their side, even if he was at times a bit smug. It was thanks to him that the red collared mares on the Veil floors could continue to conduct the activities of a brothel while keeping a high morale.

Meadow smiled at Rarity. “Have you heard at all from Sweetie Belle yet?”

“I’m afraid not. She’s been worrying me sick ever since she decided to venture out on her own. She’s a smart filly, but… well I guess I can’t call her a filly anymore. I just hope she and her Crusaders stay safe.” Rarity let out a sigh. She thought of Sweetie Belle’s insistent face just before running off to find her friends and spread her hope. Her courage was admirable, even if it meant she would throw herself in harm’s way.

“Me too. I’ve been hoping to be able to see her again. After all she did for me back in Haven, I feel like I have to make it up to her, and to you too.”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, Meadow. What you do now for all of us is crucial to our objectives. I couldn’t ask you, or any of the mares down below, to do any more than that.”

Rarity’s words gave Meadow a bashful smile. Though she suddenly perked up upon realizing how much time she had been spent in their conversation.

“Eheh… Speaking of that, I should be heading back down. Maybe we could talk again when I’m not on shift?”

“Of course, darling! I look forward to it.” Rarity replied with a grin.

Bidding Rarity goodbye, Meadow headed towards the service stairwell door, putting away her pink flower and clamping her fake red collar around her neck. She gave one last wave before shutting the door behind her.

Wishing the best for her friend, Rarity returned to Corbeau and Octavia, happening in on a discussion.

“Have I started a trend? I don’t remember seeing most of the Saboteurs wearing long coats like mine.” Corbeau asked.

Octavia chuckled. “It was either you or me. Though I’ll happily take the credit if you don’t want it.”

“No way! You already have a reputation for being a famous musician. I need something to my name to make it fair. ‘Corbeau; The stallion who inspired the new line of Saboteur wear and tear.’”

“Quite.”

The Haybale Hotel Tower had three main elevators. Though they were somewhat outdated, they were operationally sound and provided easy transportation between floors. The primary elevator was larger than the other two, and was uniquely situated in a glass frame while being built into the tower’s face.

Rarity entered the main elevator with Corbeau and Octavia, the ornate doors sliding shut as Octavia pushed on the glossy button under the number twenty two; the floor containing the Keep’s primary command center. After buckling and whirring, the elevator had slowly begun its climb.

After passing the ding of the fourteenth floor, which contained the secondary command center, the wall opposite the elevator door became brightened. Outside, the massive sight of the Manehatten city scape shown. The caribou’s mighty wall could be seen clearly, the closest segment being the most critical part to the Saboteurs’ operation; the harbor wall, drawn like a line across the water.

Another large structure, Brooke’s bridge, stood in shambles in the misty distance. Like the other bridges which spanned over the surrounding rivers, Brooke’s Bridge was only half of its former self. To isolate the city, and gather enough steel to use in their wall construction, the Cabal tore down the Manehatten side of the bridges, leaving them incomplete. Sometimes, Saboteur watchers could see Alliance observation posts set up on the other side, using the more stable parts of the ravaged bridges. They served as a small reminder that there were friends on the outside.

Octavia held her hands behind her. “Our small contingent at the harbor wall reported in today. The caribou in their vicinity are still unaware of our operations. Once we have the plans, we’ll begin planting the explosive batteries where necessary.”

“I fear their safety may be at risk. With my mission’s failure, Asmund and his Cabal know what we’re up to.” Rarity noted disdainfully, catching a concerned glance from Octavia beside her.

“What would you suggest? Should we pull them away from the harbor for now?”

“Tell the Saboteurs there to cease any scouting or probing of the harbor area. I only want them to be active once we have the plans. The outpost they’re occupying should be well enough hidden that the Cabal doesn’t discover them.”

Octavia nodded. “I’ll make sure they get word. How long should they stay hidden?”

Rarity paused, he gaze lowering.

“Until further notice. To be utterly honest, I was hoping to be able to have the plans by now. I’m not sure what to do next. We’ve tried everything.”

Octavia kept her sights on the scenery before them. The elevator dinged once more, coming to slow halt as the twenty second floor had been reached.

As the doors slid open behind them, Octavia placed her hand on Rarity’s shoulder.

“I know things look dire. But there’s still time. Something is bound to go our way.”

Rarity laid her own hand on Octavia’s. “You’re right. I suppose I’m just feeling tired, rather than defeated.”

“Believe me. We all feel the same.”

The day had gone by in a flash. Rarity had almost forgotten what it was like to have friends around her. For the previous two months, she had to endure the charade of being a slave in order to acquire the plans needed to finally liberate this city. But those two months were wasted, and now she was back to square one.

The meeting on the twenty second floor with the Saboteur officers on the next course of action turned up little that could reassure Rarity. No intelligence had pointed to any possible location for the harbor wall plans, nor any possible opportunities to gather any new intelligence. While the Elite and the Cabal continued to run the city, less and less possible infiltrations seemed plausible. The risk to send more Saboteurs as undercover slaves had grown too great, and Rarity could not bear the thought of losing any more ponies than she had to. It seemed that there was a new wall, one which blocked any further attempts to find what they were here for.

Following the fruitless meeting, Rarity and Corbeau decided to get some fresh air on the twenty sixth floor, only a few down from the rooftop. This was the most heavily modified of the former hotel’s floor, having an entire section of the rooms completely gutted and re-built to house a powerful system of heavy grappling launchers connected to a series of coiled zip-lines. The many specially built windows could fold to the sides and allow the launchers to shoot their grappling hooks to an abandoned tower a few blocks away. The zip-lines set up would allow for a hasty deployment of Saboteurs towards the harbor outposts in case of emergency. The floor was so open and altered that, with the right additions, an airship dock could possibly be installed in the future.

Feeling the night-time breeze ripple through her mane, Rarity walked onto the nearby balcony which extended out beside one of the grappling launchers. She sat down on the ledge beside Corbeau and pulled out a tiny filing kit. Corbeau glanced to her as she parted her mane with one hand while she held a file in the other, steadily applying it to the stub of her horn. The scratching noise of the ridged file rubbing against what was technically Rarity’s bone gave Corbeau a slight chill.

“… I’m sorry that you have to do that.” Corbeau breathed, looking back down over the ledge.

“I don’t know what you mean by that… No one’s forcing me to do this… It is simply… Making sure… that I have an appearance to keep… when I need it.” Rarity replied. She finished keeping her horn’s growth checked, putting away her file and looking at Corbeau.

She noticed his empty stare.

“Is everything alright, Corbeau? You seem worried.”

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

“Corbeau. I know that look. Whatever’s the matter?”

Corbeau sighed. “… I was just… thinking about my wife.”

Rarity cocks her head with pleasant surprise. “You never told me you were married. What’s her name?”

Corbeau locked his eyes on his twiddling thumbs. “Her name’s Jasmine.”

“Jasmine. What a lovely name. Ohh, I’d love to hear more about her, darling! Perhaps talking about her would make you feel better?”

“Alright,” said Corbeau, “She’s a bat pony. Bright yellow eyes as full as the Moon, slate-grey coat and a mane as dark as the deepest ocean. She always wears it in a ponytail to the side, and always with a snow-white bow at the back… Heh… It’s almost as if I can see her right now.”

“Go on.” Rarity beamed.

“We met while I was a history teacher, after I stopped fire-fighting for a while. I took my class on a field trip to Umbra, which was a rare occasion. We toured a museum, and that’s where I saw her for the first time. She led the tour, and many of my older students wouldn’t stop teasing me about how I kept staring at her.” Corbeau chuckled.

“Where is she now? Is she safe?” Rarity asked, concern in her voice.

“Yes, thank Celestia. We got married in Umbra, and she stayed there with family while I made a brief trip back to Equestria. It was just my luck that the day I went back was the day the caribou showed up…”

Corbeau frowned, a look of pain in his eyes.

“… It only took a second. One second… And just like that, I didn’t care about her anymore… Like I had just decided that there was no such thing as love…”

Rarity realized why Corbeau was suddenly so troubled. In this time of strife, the mares had always been treated first and foremost as the victims of the caribou. And in most regards they were, considering the caribou’s strict patriarchal lifestyle. But little light was shed on the troubles of the stallions who had regained their conscience after Princess Luna had destroyed the corrupted Crystal Heart. Many stallions were unaware of their own actions, and had to live with being identified as part of the enemy, even though Luna had been successful in her attempts to re-forge trust between stallions and mares.

Corbeau was one of these stallions. For those three years of the Fall, he had followed in the caribou’s shadow. And on the day he regained his conscience, he was horrified at what he had done. Rarity recalled the day she first found him, trying to act as a caribou-allied stallion in order to help free a group of captive mares, only failing and finding himself tortured. That was the day Rarity rescued him, and recruited him into the Alliance Saboteurs.

Knowing that he still had a wife who didn’t know about his actions made his feelings even clearer.

“She’ll understand.”

“How?” Corbeau asked, his voice quivering, “How could she possibly understand? She’ll see me for the things I did and leave me. I wouldn’t blame her at all. No mare in their right mind would trust a stallion who had spent three years raping every mare he could find.”

A second of silence passed.

SLAP

Corbeau nearly tumbled over from the sudden contact of Rarity’s palm to his cheekbone. He looked back while rubbing the reddened spot, noting that Rarity possessed not a single hint of malice or anger in her expression. She appeared determined and patient.

“What you did… was not you. If she loves you, as much as you love her, she will understand.”

Corbeau only stared back into Rarity’s eyes, though soon he nodded his head, accepting her words.

“I… I guess it’s a lot harder than I thought. To remind myself that I’m not blinded like I was during the Fall. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about how it felt. On the Day of Rebellions, when I realized everything I had done… I want to find redemption. I need to.”

“You already are,” Rarity said warmly, “By helping not only me but every pony here in this city. A lot of what we have done here in Manehatten would not have been possible without you. And don’t forget how many times you’ve rescued me now. How many has it been? Four times?”

Corbeau let out a long laugh, grinning. “No, no, it’s only been three times. That business we had in Bridleway doesn’t count.”

Rarity could see an improvement in her friend’s mood. He kept his smile on him, sighing in content as Rarity got to her feet.

“How about we go spend some time inside. It’s getting frightfully cold out, and I don’t want you to get sick while we have our work ahead of us.”

Corbeau nodded with a smile, and took Rarity’s hand.

Receding from the cool open air from the twenty sixth floor, Rarity and Corbeau arrived at the upper observation floor, number twenty eight, used mostly as a recreational place for resting Saboteurs or bored refugees. It was relatively filled tonight, with ponies who couldn’t sleep or just wanted to find the time to spend with friends, playing cards or reading.

The elevator doors slung open again as the car returned, revealing two mares. One was a noctral, with deep yellow eyes and a purple mane. She was outfitted in a set of equipment which was not often seen in the city.

The other mare with her was an earth pony with a ruby-red coat and mane. Her green eyes had frantically begun to scan the floor, looking desperately for something.

“Mom? Mom, are you here?”

Some ponies in the floor looked to the young mare calling out, a few about to ask if she needed any help. But they stopped as one pony, an older mare with a pale red coat, had stood up, shocked to hear the voice.

“Ruby?”

“Mom!!”

In a flash, Ruby tightly embraced her mother. Both of them began to cry in joy at seeing one another. Some of the ponies in the room clapped in celebration.

Looking at the sight of a reunited family brought to Rarity the memories of Haven, back before there was an official war, or Alliance for that matter. When she arrived at that hidden sanctuary and found Sweetie Belle, Rarity could not describe the joy she felt. Thinking of her younger sister now made her worry for her safety even more. But it also reminded Rarity of the pony who had kept Sweetie Belle safe; Princess Luna.

Even though she disagreed with Luna’s actions in the final moments of the Battle of Canterlot, Rarity still treated the leader of the New Monarchy with utmost respect and gratitude for saving her sister. Even if that same leader could not find a way to save her own sister.

Rarity glanced to her side, catching a shallow sigh from Corbeau. The sight of the two red-tinted mares brought a weak smile to his snout. Rarity tried to think of comforting words to give him, but her thoughts were interrupted as the noctral mare who accompanied Ruby approached her.

“Lady Rarity? Night Wing of Princess Luna’s Night Sentinels. I’ve arrived with a team on orders from Haven Alliance command.”

Rarity bowed her head politely. She was always courteous to any ally she met, but she knew well about the Night Sentinels and their clandestine nature. They only take orders directly from Princess Luna. Any other source of orders is an outright lie.

“Hello, Night Wing. A pleasure to meet you. Were you that mare’s escort?” Rarity asked, looking to the red mare and her mother. Corbeau had gone over to the two, asking them if they needed anything.

Night Wing groaned. “Not at first. My team and I were to come and deliver an additional supply of battery charges for your use on the harbor wall. Though while we were on our way in, that crazy mare over there shadowed my team and nearly got us all caught before we even made it into the city. She rambled on about how a mare named Liberty told her to go find her mom after saving her from the Crystal Empire.”

Rarity’s ears shot upwards, recalling the familiar name. “Liberty? I don’t ever recall her mentioning saving a mare of her description. That aside, I’m thankful that you allowed her to enter the city with you.”

Night Wing scoffed. “She didn’t give me a choice. But as much as I hate to admit it, it’s thanks to Ruby that we were able to stumble on something that you might find useful. Your Keeper mentioned on our way up that you’re still after the harbor wall plans.”

Rarity’s attention peaked, listening intently to Night Wing’s next words.

“We snagged an enemy stallion and a collared mare belonging to him on the way in. He’s a liaison for the Elite and the Cabal. Turns out he knows exactly where the harbor wall plans are, and how to get them.

In short; you’re going to have to crash a pretty big party.”