The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

Chapters

1. The First Rule
2. The Seat of the Ruler
3. Out of the Abyss
4. Elders’ Eyes Upon You
5. Awakening of Fates
6. Impression Left Behind
7. Storm King’s Thunder
8. Edicts of Neutrality
10. The Battle of Elmwood
11. Shepard the Weak
12. The Black Road
13. The Tithes That Bind
14. Poisoned Words
15. The Marionette
16. Who Pulls the Strings
17. Truths in Time
18. City of Danger
20. Bound by Duty
21. A Fool and His Gold
22. Pool of Annihilation
23. What Lies Beneath
24. Fester and Burn
25. The Only Way To Be Sure
26. Howling on the Moonsea
27. Bane of the Tradeways
28. By the Light of the Moon
29. In the Garden of Evil
30. The Tower of Ahgairon
31. A Wrinkle in the Weave
32. In Search of Secrets
33. The Lost Apprentice
34. Change of Address
35. Old Bones and Older Tomes
36. Those that Came Before
37. The Lost Sanctum
38. The Seer
39. Prison Pitfalls
40. What You Wish For
41. Ruined Prospects
42. Old Enemies Arise
44. Spinning on the Edge
45. Oubliette of Fort Iron
46. End of the Line
47. Last Orders at the Yawning Portal
9. Nothing Happens in Elmwood
19. The Particular Case of Selptan Felines
43. Tipping the Scales

1. The First Rule

The First Rule

This was not her bed.

It was an unsettling realization that struck Rarity before her eyes had even begun their struggle to flutter open. Much of her body was still under the spell of sleep, and the only sense available to her that was not undermined by weary reluctance was touch, but it was all Rarity needed to know that something was, well, off. The mattress beneath her was too stiff, too hard against her soft, sensitive body. The cushion her head rested upon lacked the depth and fluff she usually required when it came to pillows. And the coarse comforter that lain over her couldn’t possibly be mistaken for the custom silk linen she had ordered and painstakingly prepared for the purpose of providing the maximum level of stylish comfort without having to sacrifice warmth, and also this one itched terribly.

To Rarity, it was clear as polished crystal; this was not her bed.

Given that she hadn’t yet fully broken sleep’s seductive embrace, it took Rarity a few moments before she could grasp the severity of her deduction, and along with that understanding came a rather healthy dose of shock. Her eyes flew open, disregarding the heavy weight of dreariness still upon them, and Rarity’s panic grew further as she took in the dark, dusty stone walls around her. The scratchy blanket was flung into the air as Rarity tumbled out of the small cot she had found herself in and onto the cold, dirty floor. Dust clung to the ugly, blindly pink, and overly puffy dress that had replaced her silk nightgown.

“What in, how, where,” was all she could muster as she struggled back onto her hooves, confusion and shock keeping her from vocalizing a coherent thought. In an effort to steady herself and calm her fraying nerves, Rarity took in a deep breath only to collapse into a fit of coughs from how stale and dusty the air was in the room.

“Quiet down in there, prisoner!” came a loud, gruff snarl from the other side of the metal door through a small barred opening, the only opening in the entire room.

“P-prisoner?” Rarity repeated. Slowly, she made her way to the door and tried to squint past the rusty bars to spot the source of the growl. By the light of a dimly lit torch on the opposite wall, she could barely make out the silhouetted figure of a pony like herself. “There must be some mistake. I haven’t—“

“I said quiet!” the being on the other side shouted, punctuating the demand with a strike against the bars. Rarity’s ears flattened against her head as the piercing sound of metal on metal rang through the room. There was an annoyed huff followed by the clatter of hooves against stone that slowly grew quieter and more distant with each subsequent step.

“Rude,” muttered Rarity, and with a huff of her own, she returned to the bed that did not belong to her. With her head back against the sorry excuse for a pillow, her nose wrinkling at the sour scent of hay, Rarity closed her eyes and started to count. When she reached one hundred, she opened her eyes and looked around.

“Still here,” she said with a sigh as she sat back up. “Well, I suppose we can rule out this all just being a bad dream.”

But then, what other possible explanation did that leave her? As Rarity removed herself from the cot once more, she ran through what she could recall of the previous evening. She, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and the rest of their close friends and fellow saviors of Equestria had just returned home from yet another grueling friendship mission, this time in the coldest regions of Yakyakistan to deal with the most stubborn of yaks. After saying her goodbyes for the evening, Rarity remembered going straight home for a light supper consisting of little more than a small salad and some fruit followed by a thoroughly extensive shower before turning in early for the night. In her own bed and in her own bedroom, that she was sure of. There was nothing in her recollection that would have warranted her lawful imprisonment, and even if she had somehow become victim to some suddenly draconian legal system, Rarity was certain she would have remembered being taken away and locked up and being forced into this abomination of a dress.

A spell then perhaps, some new magical experiment that either Twilight or Starlight Glimmer or possibly the both of them together were so eager to test out that they couldn’t wait until morning. It wouldn’t be the first time Rarity woke up to find herself in some strange situation due to the insatiable curiosity of powerful magicians, though being trapped in some dank prison without reason was arguably mundane compared to, say, having your Cutie Mark and destiny swapped with another pony.

Discord was always a potential suspect, what with his nigh omnipotence and odd senses of humor and morality, but again, this felt too simple, too plain to be one of the draconequus’s pranks. The walls weren’t made of cheese, the dress she wore wasn’t screaming obscenities at her, and gravity was definitely still a thing, so any blame Rarity could direct toward Discord seemed misplaced.

Was this the work of some new threat to Equestria then, an attempt to capture, contain, and separate the land’s champions to prevent them from foiling whatever diabolical schemes the villain had in mind? Would her friends also awaken to find themselves imprisoned and in kitschy outfits just as she had?

A loud thud interrupted Rarity’s musings and redirected her attention to the door just as a small section near the bottom of the door slid open. A small tray with bowl and a plate with what appeared to be a sizable rock on it was squeezed through the opening and dropped to the floor before the section slammed shut.

Rarity stared at the tray with a look of disgust. The bowl was brown with rust and filled with some thin, green broth, some of which had splashed out onto the tray, and there was a distinct lack of utensils or napkins. The stone on the plate was revealed after further investigation to simply be a chunk from a very old and very crusty bread loaf. What little appetite she had faded at the sight of the unappealing affair before her.

“Excuse me,” Rarity called out as she marched toward the prison’s door. The initial surprise she had experienced was quickly being replaced with forced indignation as she prepared herself to escape. “Is this supposed to be breakfast? What even is this? I understand you’re not running a three-hoof establishment, but really, this is completely unacceptable. And don’t even get me started on these living conditions. This isn’t my first time as a prisoner, I’ll have you know, but this has certainly been the worst experience so far. Even those dastardly diamond dogs knew how to treat a lady when properly prompted. Who’s in charge here? I demand to speak with your supervisor, and rest assured, I have several choice words for—“

A loud slam silenced Rarity who could only stare wordlessly with her mouth agape at the equine skull pressed against the bars. The empty sockets it used to glare at her seemed to emit a dull, eerie glow. The skeletal jaw lowered, and from the open maw it let out a hiss and a chilling steam that sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine as the temperature of the entire room seemed to have drastically lowered. Then, just as suddenly as the skull appeared, a large furry paw shoved the pony skeleton aside, and in its place was the face of a clearly disgruntled diamond dog.

The scruffy mongrel regarded Rarity with a look of distain and irritation. “What prisoner want?” he growled, drool dripping from his jowls that shook with each word he spoke.

It took a moment for Rarity to recover and her voice. “I-I’d like a-a spoon, please,” she stammered, the rest of her planned complaints having died in the presence of the autonomous skeleton.

The diamond dog grunted and vanished, leaving Rarity in isolated suspense for several long seconds before reappearing to toss a spoon crudely carved out of wood through the bars and onto the floor. Then, without another word, the dog left her view.

Rarity, her heartbeat slowing to its usual rhythm as she began to calmed down, returned her gaze to the provided meal. Regardless of how she felt about its presentation, she would have to eat eventually, especially if she wanted to be in any condition to escape. However just the very thought of her lips even touching the contents in the bowl, let alone allowing it passage through her mouth and down her throat, made her mouth run dry and her stomach churn. How much longer could she delay and ignore her carnal need for sustenance, before the hunger became unbearable? An hour? Two hours?

No, better to get it done and over with sooner rather than later, Rarity decided with a sigh. She turned to the wooden spoon and directed her magical grasp toward it as she mentally prepared herself for breakfast.

The spoon refused to move.

Rarity stared at the stationary wooden utensil with rapidly widening eyes. The initial shock subsided, and she tried again, focusing her magic through her horn like all little unicorns were taught. The spoon remained motionless, and there was an absence of slight tingling she normally felt when calling upon her innate unicorn magic.

Her panic surged when she brought her hoof to the top of her head and felt only the fur of her forehead beneath the curls of her mane. Frantically, Rarity looked around her prison cell, searching until her gaze settled on the bowl. She rushed forward and looked down into the green fluid the bowl held, and what she saw confirmed what her hoof had suggested.

Rarity’s reflection stared back at her through the broth, recognizable even with the murky green tint of the makeshift mirror. There was just one odd detail, something that made her question whether the mare in the soup was truly her, that being the utter lack of a horn.

Rarity’s chest tightened, her breathing quickened. Her head suddenly became light, and the room began to spin. As she started to sway, something hard bounced against her chest, distracting her momentarily from the impending fainting spell and causing her to look back down into the reflective surface of the green broth.

A small glint caught her attention, drawing it to the small chain around her neck she had failed to notice before. It was a necklace, Rarity came to realize as she lifted the strange symbol connecting the ends of the chain, the object that had gotten her attention in the first place. The symbol was of plain silver, nothing too special or overly expensive, and its shape reminded her a bit of a snowflake, with jagged arrows branching out of a center in every direction. This gaudy little trinket certainly hadn’t been part of her collection, and even if it had been, Rarity never went to bed with jewelry on. It must have been put on her along with the dress during or following her capture, Rarity deduced.

It was another mystery to add onto her growing pile of mysteries, one that was certainly less pressing than where was her horn or why she was being held in this cell but equally as perplexing. The symbol was not one she recognized or could even hazard a guess to its meaning, if it even had a meaning. Perhaps it meant something to the villains that had imprisoned her, maybe even a hint to their identity. Or could it be magical, another powerful arcane artifact with ruinous potential? Was this responsible for the disappearance of her horn?

Rarity carefully held the symbol up to what light seeped the bars of the door, rotating it as she looked for any additional markings or runes, anything that could be a clue. The silver gleamed in the light almost as if the metal itself was aglow, and for a mesmerizing moment all Rarity could do was stare as cell around her seemed to blur and fade.

A sudden knock at the door took her attention from the pendant. The room became still once more, and Rarity instinctive shoved the silver symbol down the dress she wore, hiding it just in time for the cell’s door to creak open. The possibility of a rescue lit a spark of hope within her, a spark that was swiftly snuffed out as out of the light stepped in a hulking diamond dog and an animated pony skeleton, both armed with spears and donning rusty helmets and chain mail shirts, shuffled in.

The sight of another pony like herself only without fur, skin, and tissue again left Rarity without breath, and in her efforts to keep herself from fainting in the proximity with such a being, Rarity failed to notice the third intruder that had entered after until they cleared their throat loudly.

“It’s time,” the large equine figure announced in a low gravelly voice. The black helmet they wore that obscured their features muffled the equine’s words slightly, giving them an unsettling echo. The rest of the figure’s body which rivaled the diamond dog in size was covered in plate armor, black and spotless like their helmet, a far contrast in quality to what the others wore. Spikes protruded from the massive shoulder pads, and a collar with bright red runes was around the being’s neck. “The Squid Wizard will see you now.”

“The, the Squid Wizard?” Rarity repeated, the absurdity of the phrase compounding her confusion. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you, hey!” She slapped at the paws of the diamond dog that reached out toward her. “I will not be touched, not by such filthy appendages and certainly not without my—“

The bony structure took a step toward her. It hissed, and like before, a chilling mist flowed through its open mouth. The air around her grew cold, and she felt a shiver play against her spine. “—permission,” Rarity finished with a nervous swallow. She tried to move back but only managed a single step before finding herself against the wall.

With a grumble, the diamond dog pushed the skeleton to the side and slammed a set of shackles around her front knees. A second set were applied to her back legs, and any protest Rarity had was reconsidered under the eyeless gaze of the skeleton guard.

“Prisoner secure,” the large dog barked, giving the chains of the shackles a tug. Rarity yelped out as she was suddenly pulled forward, tripping over herself. Ignoring the diamond dog’s snickers, Rarity attempted to stand, a normally simple task that was made nearly impossible by the bindings around her legs. She looked up to see the armored pony now looming over her. A few seconds passed as they watched Rarity struggled for a few seconds before they released an impatient huff and reach out. Taking hold of Rarity’s shoulders, the pony in black armor forced her up onto her hooves.

“Th-thank you,” said Rarity, wincing as the metal gauntlets dug into her. She look into the thin slits of the helmet, and there, past all the shadows, she caught the glimpse of the guard’s eyes. It less than a peek, just a gleam of green and white, but it was still a sight of another pony’s features, something she recognized, something familiar and safe.

The moment shattered when the pony in black armor turned away and started toward the cell’s exit. They tilted their head back slight and issued a single, simple command:

“Move.”

No one questioned the order, not the diamond dog nor the skeletal pony. And certainly not Rarity.

2. The Seat of the Ruler

The Seat of the Ruler

As much as she had to gripe about her current lodging conditions, what with the dust, the cold, lack of light, dreary dull walls, the hard floor, cramped environment, stuffy air, and missing necessities like a proper washroom and a decent bed with quality linens, Rarity left the cell with a great deal of reluctance, though she knew better than to vocalize such feelings.

The pace, set by the armored pony in front, was thankfully manageable even with the shackles and chains and the sloped floor, and Rarity, with very little else to do, took the time to look around. Just like the cell and ground, the walls they passed were made of cut stones, each one as dull and uniform as the one before save for a few minor chips and imperfections. Lit torches held in place by bronze sconces lead the way as they continued through the narrow pass. Every several steps, they would arrived at a corner and turn, only to reach another corner and turn in the same direction. Were they going in circles? No wait, the continuous incline they were still traveling down, the constant turns, they were in a tower, Rarity realized, moving down a spiraling path.

Well, better down than up, she supposed. Not having wings left her with very few means of escape if she were stuck at the top of a tower. At ground level she could at least make a run for it, if she ever got out of these chains. Maybe she could loosen them subtly with her magic, just to find and break the weakest link, then wait for the right moment and—

Oh. Right. Her horn was missing. She’d have to figure out a way to escape without her magic. Acting out and being a high-maintenance nuisance hadn’t worked, and Rarity doubted her charms would have much affect on the skeleton, if she could even bring up the nerve to try. Perhaps she should focus on finding and restoring her lost horn before making any escape attempts. But where would even she start? And what about her friends? If there was even a chance they were here as well, Rarity couldn’t just leave. And surely they’d be able to come up with a better escape plan together than she on her own.

The floor was beginning to level, and the group came to a sudden stop. Rarity, still caught up in her own speculation, nearly tripped and stumbled into the diamond dog in front of her. Once stable and having given the oversized mongrel a glare that went ignored, Rarity tried to look past the guards to see why they had stopped. Peeking over the dog’s massive shoulder proved difficult, however, and all she could see up in front was a giant wooden door illuminated by torch light.

The shuffling of bodies could be heard, followed by a sharp click and a creak and a groan. The doors started to slowly swing outward, and the diamond dog hissed and raised a paw over his eyes as sunlight burst through the enlarging crack. Rarity shut her own eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness.

She felt a tug at her legs. “Move,” commanded the diamond dog, already moving forward without waiting for her affirmation. She followed the guards out, doing her best to avoid the stares of the additional skeletons standing by the doors.

The sun greeted her with warm beams. Rarity took a deep breath and sighed as fresh air filled her lungs. It was a vast improvement over the dust in the cell and the tower. She blinked, letting her light starved eyes adjust as she was led onward down a paved path, past a variety of guards made up of diamond dogs and skeletal equines and even a few earth ponies and pegasi with actual flesh under their armor, though the cruel smirks and sneers they shot at her as she passed dampened any joy she felt from seeing other ponies. There seemed to be sentries in every direction Rarity could turn her head, along with walls that reached up high into the clouds where a small flock of large beastly birds could be spotted circling overhead. The tower they had descended was behind them, slowly growing further away with each step.

A sharp tug jerked her forward. “Eyes front,” growled the diamond dog holding her chains. This time, Rarity didn’t bother hiding her eye rolls.

“Just appreciating the view,” she sniffed. “You have wonderful, er, walls.”

Both the diamond dog and the skeleton leading her stopped to turn and stare. The skeleton hissed, and though breathtaking chill from earlier never came, she still found the sight of a collection of bones moving on its own immensely unnerving. “No talking,” said the diamond dog with another tug before turning and continuing forward.

Rarity rolled her eyes once more and looked around again for another quick appraisal of her surroundings. A jab at her shoulder stopped her.

“Eyes front,” said the sullen earth pony stallion that was suddenly next to her, returning his spear to its position against his shoulder. More guards had joined them, Rarity discovered, two on each side and at least a couple more right behind her by the sound of their steps.

“Is this really necessary?” Rarity exclaimed. She shook her shackles, clacking the chains. “I’m not exactly going anywhere. Well, anywhere you’re not leading to. I’m flattered by all this attention, but I’m sure you all have better thing to do than act as my entourage.”

No one answered. Rarity sighed. “Well, can somepony please tell me where we’re going at least?”

She got another jab in her shoulder. “No talking,” said one of the guards. “Save your mewling for later.”

Rarity glared at the guard who had spoken. The spearhead had been dull, but she could still feel the inflicted area starting to grow sore, and she couldn’t very well alleviate the pain with her bindings in the way. Still, she kept her complaints to herself and quickly returned her gaze to the front, having no desire to further test her captors’ patience.

The rest of the short journey through the courtyard went in silence until they reached the gates of a giant obsidian castle keep. Dark red spires rose from each of the four corners, as high as the outer walls, toward a bloody sky of swirling storm clouds. The warmth of the sun was gone, and when they passed through the gates, Rarity noticed the guards around her, the ones with flesh anyways, were also shivering.

The skull of a gigantic beast with curved horns greeted them, attached to the front of the keep. A pinkish glow seemed to emit from the skull’s sole socket that Rarity swore seemed to follow them as they entered the bony maw and waited for a great pair of iron doors to slowly open. Even when they were all inside the building proper and the doors shut behind them, Rarity still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her.

“Achoo!”

Something besides the guards, Rarity amended, watching in disgust as a short scrawny diamond dog snorted and wiped his wet snout with his wrist. The feeling slowly lessened as they continued through the halls, however, and Rarity instead turned her attention to the new setting.

Unlike the unadorned stone walls of the tower she had been imprisoned in, the keep was lavishly decorated. The paved floor quickly gave way to a soft carpet that stretched to the ends of the halls. Statues of grotesque beasts with multiple heads and limbs and displays of shiny plate mail, similar to what the black armored pony leading the pack wore, lined the walls. Lit candelabras illuminated paintings of fields aflame and crimson rivers, of torrent seas and monstrous tendrils choking ships, of a mighty hurricane stretching down from a bloody sky. Every ten or so feet there would be a crest carved from silver in the shape of a tentacled creature with eyes made of rubies and indecipherable runes written in green running across the creature’s body. Large wood doors sealed with the image of the same symbol hid away rooms and passages, hinting at potential secrets.

The hallway opened up into a dark foyer, allowing the neat rows they had been traveling in to clump together into a messy crowd. There was a moment of stillness, no one moved a muscle and every breath was held. Suddenly, as a single unit, the guards bent their knees and bowed their heads. The chains around Rarity’s legs were pulled, dragging her to the ground, and a pair of spears extended over her back, keeping her from getting up.

“Rise.”

The voice that carried the command lacked any authority that such an order typically required. It was so squeaky and high-pitched that Rarity was left baffled when every being in the room obeyed.

“Let me see the princess.”

The crowd parted, finally giving Rarity a decent view of the room. It was a throne room, one very similar to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s in Canterlot, with banners of violet and of orange tumbling down the side walls. A great mural of stained glass that reached up to the ceiling served as a backdrop, depicting the same creature from the crests. There in front of the glass, on top of a hill from which the rest of the room and its inhabitants could be looked down upon, was a large seat of gold.

And in the golden throne sat a purple squid with the largest, most brushy set of eyebrows Rarity had ever seen. It wore a bright orange stage magician’s cape and a blue cone decorated with silver stars for a hat. An admittedly unladylike snort echoed through the room.

“Princess Shmarity,” the squid said in that ridiculous voice. “Are you enjoying your stay?”

No one spoke for a good few seconds. The top of squid furrowed. “I don’t recall telling you fools to gag her. In fact, I distinctly remember specifically telling you not to.”

“She isn’t, my liege,” someone said, the black knight in front by the sound of it, the full helmet giving the words a reverberation as they passed through the slit openings.

A blunt spear tip dug into Rarity’s back, prompt a soft yelp of surprise.

“Ah, the lady speaks!” The squid began to laugh, its tentacles wiggling wildly.

“Oh, were you talking to me?” Rarity asked, turning her head to face the squid directly as best she could while being forced prone. “Because this is hardly the sort of position one should take when having a conversation. That is, of course, assuming that I am allow to speak without having some ruffian stab me with something dirty, yes?”

“Defiant to the end I see.” The squid appeared amused, as far as Rarity could tell, she hadn’t interacted with many talking squids. “It would appear that your stay in my dark, isolated tower of darkness and isolation has done little to dampen your spirit. Or your sass. Let’s see if we can fix that here and now.” Wrinkles formed near the base of the squid. Was that supposed to be a smile? “Tell me, Princess Shmarity—“

“Rarity.”

The squid paused. It raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“My name is Rarity. Rarity.” She placed extra emphasis on the first R.

“Uh, are you feeling alright, Princess?”

“And that title,” Rarity continued with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly, if you’re going to refer to me as such, you should be treating me like royalty. I can’t fathom how anypony, or creature for that matter, would find that unfurnished cramped cell proper for a princess.”

“Um—“

“Or is that why I’m wearing this cheesy Nightmare Night costume of a dress, as some kind of cheap humiliating joke?”

The room went silent. The guards alternated between staring with the mouths agape at the mare flat on the floor and at the squid on the throne who was busy rubbing the back of its head with one tentacle while using another two to lift its hat and wipe at the moisture beneath it. “I, er, it seems like all that time alone in the dark did have some effect. Just, well, ah. I was expecting, well.” The squid coughed. “Ahem, well, I’m sure you’re wondering as to why you‘re here. You’ve, ah, been wondering that, right?”

“I have,” Rarity said, “amongst other things.” She attempted to replay Twilight’s lectures on old myths in her head, trying to remember any mention of talking cephalopods.

“Yes, yes.” The squid slid out of the golden chair and started to pace. Every time it lifted a tendril off the ground, there was a distractingly loud, wet popping sound. “Now why would I be wasting my time with my captive when I should be dealing with those pesky ‘heroes’ of yours, you must be asking yourself. After all, your champions must be getting close by now, they’ll be bursting through these walls any day to rescue you.”

Heroes, champions, was the squid referring to the rest of her friends? Did that mean they weren’t captives like her? But then why her, a simple dressmaker and rising entrepreneur? Surely the actual princess of the bunch would make a more appropriate prisoner. Or had it just come down to a case of bad luck?

The room had gone quiet, though it took Rarity, lost in her thoughts and speculations, several moment to notice the silence and the attention that every being had been directing at her. All eyes were upon her, watching and waiting expectantly.

“Er, yes. Yes! Of course,” she declared. She’d play along for now, perhaps gaining some extra information. “My friends will be here any moment, so you had better let me go.”

“Yes! Finally! Now we’re back on script.”

“What?”

“What? I mean, ahem.” The squid raised a slimy limb to its base, just below its eyes, and coughed. “Oh my dear, that’s the thing. There’s no need to wait. They’re already here.”

A tentacle slithered behind the squid’s back and returned grasping a smooth stick with a glowing orb at one end. The squid waved the stick in the air and stabbed it toward the roof. The air hummed and crackled as the ceiling suddenly opened up into a pool of whirling lights. To objects, one long and lanky, the other small and stout, fell to the floor with a thud. Another wave of the stick, and the light above vanished, returning the ceiling to its previous state.

“Your heroes,” the squid announced triumphantly, gesturing toward the fallen objects. Every breath was held, and grips around shafts and hilts tightened. A simple three note chord from an invisible organ rang out through the entire castle keep. No creature made a sound, a dropped pin could be heard against the soft plush carpet.

Time passed, and the dramatic silence turn to one of awkwardness. “Well?” the squid demanded, slamming one of its many tentacles against the floor.

“Oh, er. What an, impressive light show?”

Those weren’t the words the squid had been waiting for, if the shade of pink it was turning was any indication. “Is that all you have to say?” the squid demanded. It pointed at the objects below. “Do you not recognized the situation you are in? How can you act so calm while in the presence of that!”

“Of what?” Rarity shot back with a frown. “You’ll have to forgive me if the position you’ve put me in doesn’t give much of a view of whatever you’re trying to show off.”

“Oh, right.” The squid cracked a tentacle like a whip, making a snapping sound. “Let her up and get a closer look.”

The spears were lifted, and the chains went slack. Slowly, Rarity got to her hooves, carefully looking around as she rose. No exits beyond the way they went in, and with all of the bodies in the way she didn’t have much of a chance reaching it safely. For a brief second, she considered going through the stained glass. Maybe she threw something first.

No, even if the weapons the guards carried could break through the glass, the opening wouldn’t be large enough to escape through, and she’d have to be crazy enough to try and disarm a guard with her bare hooves first. Her shackles and chains, still held by that large diamond dog, would have made sure she wouldn’t get very far anyways, no matter how she tried to escape.

Given few choices, fewer still that were of any good, Rarity approached the piles lying between her and the throne, turning to the larger one first. At first glance, she thought it was a giant serpent with an odd coloring scheme. The body was made up of three sections, one gray and white, one green, and one red, and only the red part was of scales. The gray parts appeared fuzzy, like fur, and the whites were like hairs of a pony’s tail. The green seemed to be some sort of outer layer, skin perhaps, that was in the midst of being shedded, revealing something brown beneath.

No, not skin, cloth! It was a green tunic, Rarity quickly realized, like the costumes she had made for medieval fairs and plays. And there were sleeves, with the paw of lion coming out of one and an eagle’s talon out of the other. A mix of emotions ran through her, of surprise to relief to worry to fear, leaving her cold. She looked up to the gray section at the top, and slowly recognized Discord’s face.

The long, white, flowing mane threw her off for a moment, as did the strange black Xs drawn over his eyes, but there was no mistaking that lopsided, bulbous snout, that set of mismatching horns, or that silly tuff of hair that he called a beard. His one fang that was always sticking out of his mouth was even visible. What wasn’t recognizable was how still and silent he was.

“Discord?” Rarity whispered. No response. She took a step forward and reached out but the chains stopped her from getting any closer. “Discord,” she repeated a little more loudly. Again, the draconequus said nothing, didn’t even stir at the sound of her voice. Her worry grew as she struggled avoiding the obvious questions like what could’ve possibly left a powerful being like Discord in such a state. Or why he didn’t seem to be breathing.

Perhaps that was just how draconequus slept, Rarity told herself. Yes, the whole unresponsiveness and lack of respiration, perhaps that was completely normal for Discord’s kind, she wouldn’t know. She turned to the second object that fallen with Discord, hoping to distract herself long enough to regain composure and return to a state that could actually make calm, rational, and above all else, useful decisions.

That proved to be a mistake. Even with that ridiculous wizard getup on she easily recognized those purple scales, rounded green spikes, and chubby cheeks beneath that beard.

“SPIKEY WIKEY!”

Rarity tore towards the unmoving dragon, screaming and struggling against her bonds as the squid above her started to laugh. “There!” the squid exclaimed, pointing. “That’s the despair I’ve been looking for, right there! Oh, that cry makes this all worth it in the end. I don’t even care that you’re getting their names wrong.”

“Uh, sir?” one of guards closest to Rarity said. He looked to the diamond dog holding the mare’s restraints nervously as the huge dog started to pant. There was flash of light and a scream, and in the place of the outspoken guard was a pile of ashes, armor, bones. The bones picked themselves up and reassembled into a complete skeleton.

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m in the middle of gloating!” the squid screamed, waving its stick in the air, steam billowing from the orb. “Now, where was I?”

“But sir, she’s getting—“

Another flash of light, another scream, another animated skeleton rose from the ashes as the chains suddenly slipped through the diamond dog’s paws. Rarity stumbled forward, tripping over her bindings and collapsing less than five or so feet from Spike’s body. The silver symbol flew from its hiding place, detached from the chain around Rarity’s neck, and slid against the sole of Spike’s foot.

Rarity crawled forward even as the guards rushed forward to stop her. Her ears barely registered the yells and screams around her as she forced herself toward Spike. The guards recovered the chains and pulled, and Rarity pulled back, ignoring the tearing in her muscles as she, a single mare, fought against a legion of thugs in a lopsided tug-of-war. She reached, stretching out her foreleg further than she ever thought possible for her. Spike was just out of reach, her hoof just inches away. Rarity called out the dragon’s name one more time and threw the last of her strength into one final pull.

Her hoof brushed against the symbol, and the room was flooded with blinding light. The world started to spin, and soon, everything faded to white.

For about a second. Then, everything turn brown, wet, and sticky.

3. Out of the Abyss

Out of the Abyss

It could’ve been worse. There were certainly far more disgusting brown, wet, and sticky things out there she could’ve landed in. And at least the mud had softened the impact, leaving her bruised rather than broken. Yes, all things considered, everything could’ve been much, much worse.

The thought didn’t exactly cheer her up.

Slowly, Rarity picked herself out of the muddy puddle, letting out a soft groan with the least amount of mouth movement possible to avoid getting any wet dirt inside. She cleaned her hooves as best she could, flicking the excess mud off before wiping them against each other. Once satisfied, or at the very least as close to satisfied as she could get with her limited capacities, Rarity moved on to her face, taking hold and flinging off large clumps of mud from her cheeks and snout, and wringing out what she could from her mane.

She needed a bath, a hot one, with several bars of soap and bottles of body wash and shampoo followed by a second hot bath for a proper rinse. Maybe a third just to be safe.

With the mud now out of her eyes, Rarity took a moment to look over herself and her surroundings. There was nothing she could for the dress, and as much as she hated its gaudy style and color, Rarity couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for its ruin. The shackles and chains around her legs had vanished, as did the castle’s walls and all of its furnishings and inhabitants. Instead, she found herself staring in a field under a bright and open sky. Several stalks of corn or possibly wheat, some sort of crop in any case, grew a little distance away while on the other side were a few heads of grazing cows. A small collections of cottages could be seen, with smoke rising from the chimneys and villagers, ponies from what Rarity could tell, rushing down the dirt road leading out to the field.

The same dirt road she had landed in, Rarity swiftly realized as she watched those ponies grow larger and closer. Were they friendly? In league with those ruffians and that talking squid? None of them appeared armed, but Rarity couldn’t be sure. She started to take a step back only to stumble and nearly collapse as the world began to wobble and shake. Her stomach churned, and a growing lump in her throat threatens to reach her mouth.

“Whoa! Miss, you alright?”

There was a comforting rural twang to those words. It reminded her a bit of home.

“Fine. Just—“

Rarity leaned over and heaved out what little was in her stomach onto the ground. Hooves firmly grasped over her shoulders, holding her steady. “Hey, that’s alright,” the voice said. “Better out than in. Probably.”

“Wait, isn’t that.” There was a new voice, younger than the first, female, but with the same country accent. “It is! Pa, it’s the princess.”

“What are you, wait.” The first voice gasped. “Heavens above, you’re right! What in tarnations?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Another newcomer, male. “It can’t be. Y’all know they’ve got her.”

“Just look at her!” the female said. “There’s no mistaking it. Those adventurers must have rescued her!”

“But—“

“Let’s get her inside first,” the one holding her interjected. “Princess or not, she needs our help. Come on, miss. Can you walk?”

Rarity nodded weakly and took an wobbly step. Strong hooves caught her before she fell back onto the ground. “Here, miss, lean on me.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, accepting the offered shoulder. The nausea had passed, and in its place came a wave of exhaustion and lightheadedness. Every step she dragged through the dirt was an effort. A young filly pranced nearby, the owner of the female voice perhaps. Every so often, she’d run up right in front of Rarity and stare in awe, looking up at the tired mare as she cantered backwards until she was shooed away.

More ponies were arriving. Curious mutters and questions filled the air, blending into an incomprehensible cacophony. Some voices were raised, then came the sounds of bickering and arguing, none of which Rarity could understand. The noise grew louder, approaching unbearable, and her dizziness became worse, driving Rarity to close her eyes for a brief respite.

When she opened them, she found herself indoors, sitting on a stool at a small table. A mare walked over to her, her cherry colored mane mostly hidden under a gray bandanna, and set down a cup.

“Here,” the mare said. “You look like you could use a drink. It’s nothing fancy though, just water. Sorry.”

Rarity nodded her thanks and raised the cup to her lips. The first sip of cool water drove away the dryness of her mouth and tongue. The second sip returned feeling to her throat. Rest of the cup soon followed.

“Thank you, madam,” Rarity said after a short refreshed sigh.

“It’s nothing, Princess. Another?”

“Please.”

The cup was filled then emptied. The previous vertigo had been banished, and though she was still feeling tired and somewhat weak, Rarity was now coherent enough to take stock of her new surroundings and notice the din of raised voices just outside.

“Is something the matter?” Rarity asked, gesturing toward the door that muffled most of the argument.

“Hm? Oh, that.” The mare shook her head. “Don’t worry about that, Princess. Just some ponies who’ve forgotten their manners. You just focus on getting better first. Hungry? It ain’t much, but we’ve got a bit of leftover stew and some bread.”

Her empty stomach gurgled its approval. When was the last time she had eaten? Her last opportunity had been in that cell in the tower, and Rarity had left that sickly broth and crusty loaf largely untouched. “That would be lovely, please.”

“Right away.” The mare stepped up to what appeared to be a crude stove and opened a cabinet at the base, revealing a couple of still smoldering embers. “Just got to heat it up a bit,” she said with an apologetic smile as she began feeding the embers chopped pieces of wood. A plate of bread was placed on the table, a little less than half a full loaf, but it was certainly a fresher morsel than what had been offered earlier today.

Had it only been a day? It couldn’t have been more than an hour or so since she first awoken in that damp, dark cell, but so much had happened since, it might as well been ages ago. The walking skeletons, the knight in black, those massive castle walls, the keep, the silly talking squid.

Discord with long, flowing hair. Spike, unresponsive, motionless.

Lifeless.

Rarity took a deep breath and held down a shaking hoof with the other. No, she couldn’t be sure that was the case, and if she was going to figure a way out of this whole disaster, she needed to keep a level head. No unnecessary thoughts, no jumping to the worst assumption.

The first step was determining where in Equestria she was. Rarity gave the room another once-over, looking for distinctive souvenirs or pictures, posters of landmarks or flags from local sport teams, anything that could be a clue. The kitchenette was bare, with only the stone stove as an appliance. There wasn’t even a sink or a refrigerator in sight.

The cottage itself was impressively small, making even Fluttershy’s cozy abode seem opulent. From her position, she could see just about every corner of the home. The only other pieces of furniture besides the table she was at and its companion stools were a couple of lumpy, frameless mattresses.

“Princess?”

The mare had returned with a bowl of thick stew. Rarity’s mouth began to water at the fragrance of the dish set before her. “It ain’t much,” the mare said again with a rueful, sad smile, “but I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Rarity repaid the smile with an appreciative one of her own. “It looks wonderful. Thank you.”

The mare brightened, either at the gesture or at the simple compliment, perhaps even from both. She placed a wooden spoon beside the bowl and stepped back to tend the pot on the stove. Rarity stared at the utensil for a moment, recalling her attempts to use magic and the subsequent discovery. Figuring out where her horn went, finding out where she was, somehow saving Spike and Discord from whatever was ailing which also probably meant getting them away from that squid, she was going to have to come up with a priority list.

Her stomach rumbled. First on the list, food, Rarity decided with a blush as she picked up the spoon after some practice. The stew was a warm hearty blend of squash, pumpkin, and onion with chunks of carrots and potatoes. A simple affair, the only seasoning appeared to be a bit of salt, but still delicious, and it worked wonderfully with the bread. The spoon quickly scrapped against the bowl’s bottom.

“Would you like some more, Princess?” the mare called over from the stove.

“Oh, no. I’m fine for now,” Rarity answered. “And please, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Princess.’ It’s flattering but hardly appropriate.”

“Oh, er.” The mare gave her a quizzical look. “I, um, if you insist, Prin—er, Miss Shmarity.”

That name again. Rarity frowned. “That name, Shmarity,” she said slowly. “Miss, er, I don’t believe I got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Hearth Stead, Prin—I mean, Miss Shmarity. My husband, Farm Right, he’s the one who brought you to our little village.”

Hearth. Like the holiday. It matched the mare’s Cutie Mark, the image of a lit fireplace. “Well, Mrs. Stead, you called me, ah, ‘Shmarity,’ was it?”

Hearth Stead nodded. “Oh, er, was that too forward? I’m sorry, Prin—Your Majesty? Your Highness? Sorry, haven’t much practice in referring to royalty.” She laughed nervously.

“Go with whatever you’re comfortable with,” Rarity assured with a dismissive gesture. “I just wanted to know, why did you call me by that name?”

“Um, you mean, uh?”

“‘Shmarity.’ That squid called me that as well.”

“Because, that’s your name?” Hearth Stead offered uneasily. “Miss Shmarity, are you feeling alright?”

In all honesty, Rarity wasn’t sure she could answer that inquiry with a definite yes. Before Rarity could even begin to think of a reply, the door swung open, and in stepped a stallion. Much like Hearth Stead, he was an earth pony with a dirt brown coat, and instead of a handkerchief he wore a torn gray skullcap. The mark on his flanks was that of a pitchfork stabbed into a bale of hay.

“Alright, got them leave, least for now,” he said with a tired exhale. “Oh!” The stallion removed his cap, revealing a messy mane of tan. “Pardon me, Princess,” he said, lowering his head toward Rarity. A little filly, maybe a good few years younger than Sweetie Belle, peeked over the stallion’, staring with eyes wide.

A familiar uncomfortable silence invited itself inside along with the brisk outside air as once again, everypony waited for Rarity. “Oh! Er, please, there’s no need to bow,” she said quickly.

The stallion’s back straightened. “Thank you, Princess,” he said before kicking the door shut. “You gave us all a bit of a scare back there, if you don’t mind me saying. Hope you’re feeling better. We don’t got a lot, but if there’s anything you need, you just let us know.”

“Um, Farm, dear?” Hearth Stead walked to the stallion’s side and placed a hoof on his shoulder before turning back to Rarity. “I’m so sorry, Prin—Miss Shmarity, but I need to have a quick word with my husband. Pardon us.”

“Oh. Of course.” Rarity started to leave her seat, but the two had already retreated to the other end of the cottage, whispering furiously. She settled back down on the stool, doing her best not to appear offended. Though she couldn’t make out the details, it was obvious that she was their discussion subject, but considering the situation in its entirety, their suspicion wasn’t exactly unwarranted. It must have been very odd after all, Rarity reasoned, for somepony you thought you knew to suddenly not know her own name.

Almost as odd as waking up without your horn and being mistaken for somepony else with a strangely similar name to your own by every single being you’ve meet.

Something tapped against Rarity’s leg, interrupting her thoughts and musings. She looked down just in time to see the filly’s blank flanks as she leapt behind the table.

“Hello there,” Rarity greeted as gently as she could. She had never been particularly good with children, those were more of Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie’s expertise, but she had been around both to pick up a couple of things. “It’s alright, I won’t bite.”

The filly stuck her head out, her eyes as wide as ever. “If you bite me, do I become a princess?”

Rarity blinked, the unexpected question catching her completely off guard. “What?”

“You know, like werewolves.” The filly bounced out of her hiding spot. “Like the ones in the forest that the heroes took care of. Were there any werewolves with the Squidzard? Ooh, what about vampires?”

“Vampires? Squidzard? What’s a Squidzard?”

“It’s what the heroes called the Squid Wizard,” said the filly. She began to approach. “But don’t let Ma or Pa know I said that. Lot of the grownups are afraid of even saying his name. Some of the older foals say that’s ‘cause his name is enchanted or something, and if you say it three times at midnight near water, he’ll appear and gobble you up, but I don’t think that’s true, ‘cause if it was, the heroes would’ve done it already and beat him up, right then and there instead of having to find a way into his castle. Oh, but they’d still have go there to save you, huh?”

“Is, is that right?” Rarity wasn’t sure how to address the filly’s sudden enthusiasm, a complete reversal of her early subdued demeanor. It was only due to her practice in entertaining the excited rants and raves of Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and, to a lesser extent, Twilight that she was able to follow the filly’s words. “You seem to hold these heroes in rather high regard.”

“Um, what?”

“You seem to really like these heroes.”

“Yup! They’re so amazing, nice too. They come ‘round here every so often asking if there’s anything they can help with, like with those werewolves ‘while back. My favorite’s Mr. Captain Wuzz ‘cause he’s the tallest. Who’s your favorite? Oh, oh, did you see them in action when they rescued you? Is that how you got here? I bet it was Mr. Garbunkle, he’s got all those spells and magic and stuff. Where are they anyways? Did they stay back to fight?”

A cough interrupted the stream of questions. Hearth Stead and the stallion had returned. “Harvest, please, you’re bothering the princess,” said Hearth as she peeled the filly away from her guest. “I’m so sorry, Miss Shmarity, Harvest here’s can be a tad excitable.”

“Am not!”

“It’s quite alright, no trouble at all,” Rarity assured, despite her growing relief and gratitude toward the parents’ timely intervention.

“Well, Prin—er, Miss Shmarity?” the stallion, Farm Right if Rarity recalled and assumed correctly, began. “Are you, ah, feeling alright. Pardon me for asking and all,” he quickly added. “I know it ain’t my place. It’s just, you were looking a little green when we found you, and, well, maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding, but it sounds like you’ve been having problems with your own name.”

“I...” Rarity hesitated. Could anypony call themselves fine after everything she had just suffered through? She wasn’t sure she’d be able convince herself of that, let alone the ponies before her. “I’m certainly feeling better,” she finally answered with a practiced smile. “Hearth makes a wonderful stew.”

Farm gave a small smile back. “That she does,” he said, sneaking a glance at the mare next to him, and for a moment, the tension in his features was gone. “Ahem, uh, well. Good to hear but, um, then you are well?”

“I, yes.”

It was obvious from look the couple shared that her reassurance did not assured nopony. Rarity sighed. “I am feeling rather confused and more than little tired,” she admitted. “It’s been a long day.”

“Ah. Well.” Farm Right let out a weak chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but the day might be getting a little longer. See, not everypony is too happy with you being here—“

“What? Why?” demanded the filly, ducking out of Hearth’s hold as the mare tried to hush her. “She’s the princess!”

“I know, Harvest, I know,” Farm Right said, shaking his head. “But a lot of ponies are afraid.” He turned to Rarity. “The ponies in this village are good ponies, really, but we’re not fighters or heroes or adventurers. If they find out you were here, that’ll be the end of us.” His gaze fell upon Hearth Stead and Harvest, and his shoulders tensed. “All of us.”

“But what about the heroes?” Harvest asked. She looked to her parents, then to Rarity. “They’ll protect us, right?”

Nopony spoke for a good long minute. Nopony could look directly at the filly. Rarity’s mouth opened, but the comforting lies froze and jammed up her throat. Just as well, she wasn’t sure if she could come up with something that would even fool a child right now.

Farm Right cleared his throat. “Nopony’s decided on anything yet though. The plan’s to first wait for the village head to return later tonight and see what he thinks. He’ll want to see you and hear what you have to say, Princess, and that could take a while, so you should probably take it easy until then, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“This village head, is he reasonable?” Rarity asked, wary.

Farm Right nodded. “Elder Woods, he’s a good stallion, a little odd but always does the best for all of us. He’s the one who asked those heroes of yours for help when we had a werewolf problem a while back. Wasn’t a popular decision at the time, but I think most of us’ll say it was the right one. You can stay here while we’re all waiting, if you like,” he added. “It ain’t much, but we’ll try to keep things comfortable. Like I said, you’ll probably be wanting to rest up for tonight.”

“That sounds wonderful,” was Rarity’s reply. “You’ve already done so much for me, I can’t thank you and your family enough.”

“Shucks.” Farm Right chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Just trying to be neighborly. Though if you, I don’t know, could remember us when this is all over, maybe—“

Hearth Stead nudged her husband in the side who hid his yelp under a cough. “I’ll, er, be outside if anypony needs me. Still got a couple of chores to finish off while there’s still sunlight. Come on, Harvest.”

“But I want to talk to the princess some more,” the filly whined even as she was led outside. The door closed behind Farm Right, leaving Rarity and Hearth Stead alone with each other.

“You’re welcome to the bed, if you’d like,” Hearth eventually said, gesturing towards the mattresses. “It’s, well it’ll probably be more comfortable than that seat anyways.”

“Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to insist, but it could be another hour or so before the head gets back,” said Hearth. “You mentioned you were tired?”

Yes, Rarity had mentioned that, and it hadn’t just been a deflective excuse. While she no longer felt in danger of fainting away, a short nap did sound rather nice, if only to give her head a little break from all those stressful questions and mysteries. And those mattresses certainly looked much softer than that cot she woke up in, cleaner too.

“I wouldn’t want to impose anymore than I already have,” Rarity said even as a part of her protested in the form of a yawn that punctuated and undermined her statement. “Maybe for just a few minutes, just to rest my eyes.”

Hearth averted her gaze, but her attempts to spare Rarity of further embarrassment just intensified her blush. “Of course, Miss Shmarity. Let me just get it all sort.”

The two mares made their way to the opposite end of the cottage where the mattresses lain, covered by a thin sheet of bedding. Hearth Stead smoothed out the most noticeable wrinkles and unfolded a patchwork quilt. “It’s not exactly palace quality, I imagine.”

“Still impressive compared to my previous arrangements.”

They shared a giggle. “Well, if there’s anything else you need, just holler. I’ll be around.” Hearth Stead started lowering herself into a bow only to catch herself and stop. She quickly raised her head, straightened her back, and gave Rarity an unconfident nod. “Prin—Miss Shmarity.” And with that, Hearth returned to the kitchenette.

Rarity slowly climbed onto one of the low mattresses and struggled to hide her grimace. They were much harder than they appeared. She patted the surface. Was that, straw? She could feel the fibrous stalks beneath the sheet.

She shuddered as she forced herself to lie down. That made it so much worse, with loose pieces stabbing at her if she made any attempt to move. There were no cushions to rest her head or support her neck; Rarity had to improvise with the quilt.

Her eyes squeezed shut. How she missed her own bed, that wonderfully plush mattress, those incredibly soft pillows made from the finest down, silk sheets that caressed and soothed every aching muscle. Thoughts of such familiar luxuries slowly grew into thoughts of home, of her boutique, of Ponyville. Some dark part of her wondered if she’d ever see that little rural town of hers again, and Rarity found that part harder to argue against without the presence of her friends acting as a constant reminder nearby.

So much for giving herself a break. Her worries bounced between the unknown fates of her friends to the ambiguous fate of Spike and Discord to her own personal predicaments. Rarity still had no idea where she was and missed the opportunity to ask her hosts. Perhaps this village head could provide her with more information, and not just on her location. Who was this “they” Farm Right has referred to? Were they the ones who had been imprisoning her. Who and what was the Squid Wizard? Was that the same squid on the throne?

What was she supposed to do now? And what after that?

The nap was a bust. Whether from the physical discomfort that her tossing and turning only seemed to worsen or the multitude of questions and worries bothering her like a swarm of gnats, Rarity couldn’t fall asleep. She opened her eyes and sat up. Hearth Stead was at the other end, peeling vegetables and humming softly.

Hearth raised her head at the sound of hoofsteps. “Oh! Miss Shmarity, is everything alright?”

“Fine, fine. Just a lot on my mind is all,” Rarity said. “Is there anything I can do to help, maybe with a few chores?” She made a motion toward the potatoes and carrots.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask something like that from you. I mean, you, helping with something like, I don’t, it’s beneath you. But thank you, I—“

“Please, Hearth.” It sounded more like a plea than a request. “I could use a distraction, and it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

Hearth Stead chewed her lip and looked around anxiously as if the cottage was full of eavesdropping busybodies. “Well, I suppose, if you insist. Can you wash these in there?” The mare gestured first to a pile of vegetables, then to a basin full of water. “Er, I can show you how it’s done, if you like.”

“That’s alright, I believe I know how,” Rarity said with a small sniff of annoyance that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

“No, no. I apologize. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Rarity settled down in front of the bowl and started on the pile. It was a simple task, washing produce, though she was more used to having a sink and a constant stream of clean water to work with. Still, Rarity quickly found her rhythm, dunking the potatoes and carrots and such into the water and rubbing the dirt off their skins before air-drying them and giving them to Hearth to peel.

Hearth tried not to hide her surprise. Apparently, wherever this was didn’t exactly hold royalty in very high esteem when it came to simple kitchen chores, though admittedly Rarity herself had a hard time imagining Prince Blueblood and some of the Canterlot nobles doing such tasks like this. Eventually, Hearth came to trust Rarity with a knife after a some practice and left her to slice the vegetables while she finished up on the peeling and started preparing the pot on the stove.

From there, they moved onto cleaning the kitchen and dining area, making sure the floor and table were clean. Much like with cutting up the vegetables, dusting without her magic took some time getting used to, and Rarity hadn’t been able to be as thorough as she liked, but they got to a point where Hearth was satisfied.

Cooking came next, and after a short impromptu lesson, a pot of stew consisting of the earlier leftovers mixed fresh broth and vegetables sat simmering on the stove.

“That stove,” Rarity began as she watch Hearth throw in a few pieces of firewood.

“Hm?”

“It’s quite, rustic. Is that a common design around here?”

“I guess?” Hearth answered after a moment. “Its what everypony here uses anyways.”

“Here, as in here in this village here, or?”

“I mean, can’t say I’ve been to many places outside of the village, and it’s not exactly a safe time to be traveling.” Hearth tapped her chin. “There used to be a town about half a day from here we’d do some trading with, can’t say I paid much attention to that sort of thing the few times I visited, but they had an honest to goodness bakery, and as far as I could tell their ovens worked just like ours.”

She patted the top of the stove. “Probably something was different though, their bread was the best gosh darn, er.” Hearth blushed. “Well, anyways, why do you ask?”

“No particular reason, it’s just, not a design I’m quite used to.” Rarity tittered. “Just curious.”

Hearth shrugged, failing to find anything untoward about Rarity’s inquiries. Did Rarity know of any places in or around Equestria where such ancient kitchenware was considered common? Yakyakistan perhaps, though the lack of snow and, most obviously, yaks made that unlikely.

Farm Right and Harvest stepped inside shortly after, and once Farm got over his surprise of finding Rarity up and about and helping, they settled down at the table. Harvest managed to sit still for a commendable minute and a half before she launched into a torrent of questions and statements about being a princess and life as a prisoner, all directed at Rarity at breakneck speed.

Between breaths or scolding by Hearth, Rarity managed to sneak in a few questions of her own to Farm Right, about the village itself, the types of crop he grew. The information she got was next to useless, with nothing standing out. No notable landmarks or attractions, no unique cuisines or products, there was nothing distinctive. The village didn’t even appear to have a name.

“Alright, enough talk,” Hearth said, interrupting Farm Right in the middle of an anecdote on growing turnips next to carrots. She placed a loaf of bread down in the center before setting down bowls filled to the brim before each pony. “Tonight’s supper’s special.“

Harvest bounced in her seat. “Is there cheese?”

Hearth chuckled. “Not tonight, no. Maybe tomorrow. But this stew, the princess helped make it.”

Both the filly and her father’s eyes grew large. “Hearth, honey, you didn’t—“

“It wasn’t any trouble at all,” interjected Rarity. “And I was the one who offered my assistance.”

“Ah, oh. Well. Wow.” Farm Right swallowed. “Just, wow. I mean, having a meal with royalty was one thing, but then having her make the food for you?” There was another visible gulp.

“Hearth did the majority of the work. I just helped where I could.”

“Still, wow. This is—Harvest!”

The filly slammed her empty bowl down and licked her lips. Some of the stew still clung to the edges of her mouth. “Seconds, please!”

The thump on the door could barely be registered over Hearth’s scoldings, Farm’s pleads and apologies, and Rarity’s assurances. The second one went ignored as well, and it wasn’t until a third, louder knock that everypony’s attention was drawn to the cottage entrance.

“Now who could, it’s supper time,” Farm grumbled as he got up and marched to the door, opening it just a crack. “Yeah?” he said. “What are you doing here? You know what time it—“

“Yeah, yeah. And you know I’d rather be at home enjoying a hot meal.” a gruff voice shot back impatiently. “But figured since you’re the one taking the biggest risk, harboring her and all, you’d want to know first.”

“Know what?”

“Elder Woods, he’s back.”

4. Elders’ Eyes Upon You

Elders’ Eyes Upon You

Supper resumed and ended in silence, despite Harvest’s attempts to engage in conversation. Even the little filly eventually seemed to recognize the air of seriousness in the room and quietly concentrated on her food. The stew had been delicious, the fresh additions made it even more so than the one from earlier, but Rarity found it impossible to enjoy in such a tense and solemn atmosphere that she wasn’t exactly sure she could explain.

Elder Woods, that was the name of the village head, if Rarity remembered correctly. Farm Right had been right; the pony outside was swiftly join by a second messenger, requesting an audience on the behalf of Woods and the village with Her Highness at the earliest convenience.

Farm had looked over his shoulder at the dining table, at his family and their guest. Confusion, worry, and uncertainty were all expressed on the stallion’s face as he turned to Rarity. Slowly, she rose from her seat.

“After supper,” Hearth Stead had asserted. The ponies outside started to protest, making arguments about not wasting Elder Woods’s time and keeping order in the village. Hearth Stead was unmoved.

“After supper,” Hearth had said, and that had been the final word.

Well, the final spoonfuls were now being finished, the bowls were all emptied, and loaf had been reduced to crumbs. They sat there quietly, trying to waste away a couple of more minutes when Farm Right sighed and got to his hooves. “Well, guess that’s that. Come on, Princess, we’d better get going.”

“We could use some help with cleaning,” Hearth suggested, motioning to the table. “I’m sure Elder Woods would understand.”

Farm shook his head. “We’ve delayed long enough. Princess?”

Rarity got up as well. “I agree. It wouldn’t be very becoming to keep everypony waiting.” She turned to Hearth. “Thank you for the lovely meal. Excuse us.”

Three ponies started toward the door. “Harvest,” Farm Right began, frowning.

“I’m going too.”

“Harvest, come here and help me clean up,” called Hearth.

“No, I’m going too.” The filly stamped her hoof. “What if they try to make the princess leave? I need to be there to stop them.”

Farm Right glanced over to Hearth. They shared an uncomfortable look. “Look, Harvest, we all want what’s best for all of us, including the princess. Whatever happens, it’ll be for the—“

“No!” Harvest screamed. “Everypony here is a coward! They’re all too afraid to actually do anything except hide and hope the Squid Wizard just keeps ignoring us. And now that the princess is back, we’re just going to return her to the bad guys? Is that what Summer Springs would’ve wanted?”

“That’s enough,” Farm exclaimed. “We are leaving, and you, young filly, are staying home. That’s final.” He sighed. “You’ll understand when you’re older, but until then,” he said, his tone becoming stern once more, “leave this to the adults. Am I understood?”

“But—“

“Am I understood?”

All of Harvest’s little body seemed to shake, of helpless anger, of hopeless frustration. She turned to her mother, but there was no support to be found there; Hearth Stead simply looked away. She returned her gaze to Farm, but despite her large sad, desperate eyes, the stallion appeared unmoved. Defeated, she bowed her head and let her shoulders sagged.

It was for the best that Harvest’s eyes were downcast, else she’d have spot the relief on Farm Right’s face as easily as everypony else. “Good girl, now—“

Rarity stumbled back from the sudden force to her front. It was a familiar blow, one any friend of Pinkie Pie quickly became accustomed to. She looked down at the filly who had rushed over and latched herself onto her.

“I-if we don’t s-see each other again,” Harvest was whispering between hiccups. “I w-want to s-say, g-goodbye.”

Rarity placed a hoof on Harvest’s head and gently brushed her mane. “It’ll be alright. Please, don’t cry,” she cooed softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. And certainly not without saying goodbye to you first.”

Harvest sniffed. “P-promise?”

“I do. And a lady is only as good as her word.”

Harvest didn’t fight, didn’t even say a word, when her mother peeled her away. She must have tired herself out, Rarity reasoned. She could sympathize, an emotional cry could be quite draining, especially for such a young filly. Held between Hearth’s forelegs, Harvest managed to return Rarity’s wave right before she and Farm Right stepped outside and shut the door behind them.

The village was dark. There were no streetlights, and few lights could been seen from the neighboring cottages. Clouds hid away the moon and the stars, and besides the small hooded lantern Farm carried, the only other light source Rarity could detect was a distant glow further within the village, in the same direction Farm Right was leading her.

Was that the wind, or were those whispers? She looked around to discover a few ponies walking the same way they were. They kept their distance and became silent when they noticed Rarity’s stare, but the second her back was turned, the whispers resumed.

Farm Right cleared his throat. “Summer Spring, that’s Harvest’s older brother. My oldest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Hearth and me, we couldn’t agree when he was born. I’d say late spring, she’d say the start of summer.” Farm chuckled. “Strong boy, but a bit bookish. Loved telling stories, made his own too. I kept worrying he’d leave us for one of them fancy academies. Instead, he volunteered with what was left of the royal guard when they came along recruiting for that one final hurrah.”

The last couple of words were bitter. Rarity kept silent. The glow grew brighter as the structures became few and more spaced out.

“Harvest looked, well, looks up to him, still thinks he’s out there fighting the good fight.” Farm sighed. “Sorry, Princess. I don’t blame you, nopony with half a brain would, but just wanted to explain, before anything else happens. See, Summer Spring weren’t the only pony this village’s lost.”

“I, see. Farm Right, I need to say something, I’m not who you think—“

“We’re here.” Rarity followed Farm’s gesture toward what seemed to be a small bonfire. Several logs with ponies already seated on them surrounded the flame contained in a pit of uncut stones. Eyes turned away from the crackling, burning wood and toward her. “Sorry, you were saying something?”

A cool evening breeze came through, picking up sparks and hints of hushed conversations. Rarity shivered. “I—“

“Oh, dang,” Farm Right suddenly muttered with a shake of his head. He stepped forward, placing himself right in front of Rarity as another stallion, his coat a dirty beige and mane darkly blond, approached. Like Farm, this new pony had the build of a workhorse, with toned back and shoulder muscles and a wide neck. He was noticeably larger than Farm, a taller too, but what distinguished him were his gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes that did not match the rest of his body. Those left him looking thin and exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept for days. A shadow, cast from the nearby flames perhaps, seemed to linger over his features, further attributing to that tired appearance. A tied bundle of straw served as his Cutie Mark.

The stallion’s eyes narrowed even further. “Farm Right,” he said slowly, with each syllable emphasized.

Farm shot a scowl back. “Don’t want any trouble now, Rowdy,” he said. “You’ve made your case already.”

“I did, didn’t I.” The sullen stallion chuckled lowly. “You made sure Her Highness—“

The title was spat out with such venom, Rarity instinctively took a step back.

“—understood, yeah?”

“I told her what she needs to know. No need to go repeat and embarrass yourself further.”

The stallion lowered his head, keeping it eye level to Farm Right. “Is that so?”

Farm took a similar stance. He pawed at the dirt separating them. Several ponies had begun to take notice, and a small crowd was starting to form. “Yeah.”

“Farm, please,” Rarity whispered. “Let’s go.” He didn’t respond, not even an acknowledgement. The crowd was getting larger, but nopony made any attempts to deescalate. If anything, the growing crowd seemed to encourage confrontation. Rarity took a deep breath and stepped between the two stallion.

Farm Right nearly lost his balance. “Princess, what are you—“

Rarity ignored him. “Rowdy, was it?” she said instead, turning to the larger stallion.

Those tired looking eyes blinked. “That’s right.” The hesitation was only for a split second, but it was present.

“Well, Mr. Rowdy—“

A loud, collective gasp filled the air that was just as suddenly snuffed out when Rarity turned her gaze to the crowd. “Mr. Rowdy,” she continued, “it appears that you take issue to my presence in your village, or is that inference mistaken?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me being here?”

The stallion straightened and found himself now looming over Rarity. A hush came over everypony watching. His gaze met Rarity’s, and for the brief moment it held, every breath was held. He quickly looked away. “I might,” he mumbled.

“Well, if you have any issues with me, you’re welcome to let me know. But no matter what disagreements you may have with Mr. Right, it doesn’t justify picking a fight. For shame.” Rarity turned to Farm. “Honesty, going to blows like a bunch of untaught colts. What would Hearth or Harvest think if they saw you now?”

“We weren’t really going to fight, Princess,” Farm said quietly.

“Good.” Rarity turned back to the stallion named Rowdy. “Now then, if you have something to say, go on, speak.”

The ponies watching were starting to mutter amongst themselves once again as the sullen stallion turned red. His drawn features twisted into a scowl, and he opened his mouth.

“Enough.”

Everypony looked to the figures standing behind Rowdy. They were equine in shape, Rarity could tell that much, but the rest of the defining details were shrouded by shadows from the fire behind them. One of the figures placed a firm hoof on the stallion’s shoulder. At the touch, his entire body seemed to sag.

The other stepped out of the darkness. A mare, with a powerful and defined physique barely softened by her feminine structure and curvatures, similar to that of Applejack. Her body was of an ashy gray color with a braided mane to match, perhaps a shade or two darker. A single scar, the remains of a once large open gash, ran over the bridge of her snout, right below her light blue eyes, and a quiver of arrows adorned her flanks

The second figure soon followed, removing the hoof from Rowdy and limping out of the shadows. If the first figure reminded Rarity of Applejack, this one was more like Granny Smith, with crooked parts that appeared to creak and groan with each motion and wrinkles for every year past their prime. They were male, with limbs attached at edges and angles instead of ending in rounded bends like his companion. His front leg, the one that stayed grounded when its brother was raised to Rowdy’s shoulder, appeared particularly stiff. The limb was partially discolored as well, brown up to the knee in contrast to the gray of rest of the old stallion’s coat, which was marked with bold black lines and dark spots and in dire need of a good brushing.

More became visible as he drew closer. His white mane was cropped short and styled so that it stuck together and pointed up toward the sky, like the bristled brush of a broom. More black lines, like the ones on his body, streaked across his face. Strips of white linen were tied around the stallion’s head, covering his eyes. His tail appeared to have been sheared, bare save for the very tip. As for his Cutie Mark, Rarity couldn’t entirely tell. It appeared to be a large jagged swirl of sorts, but its meaning eluded her despite invoking a vague sense of familiarity.

“Elder Woods,” Farm Right greeted, bending his neck. The old stallion returned the gesture. “I thought.” He looked around at the crowd and frown. “I thought this was supposed to be a private thing. You know, between you and the princess. It looks like the entire village is here.”

“The princess’s presence affects us all. Should not the whole village hear her before I make my call?”

The black lines, the distinctive mane style, the odd Cutie Mark, and now the rhyming. Was Elder Woods a zebra? Rarity only had Zecora as a reference, but there certainly were similarities that could be drawn between the Everfree Forest hermit and this village’s leader, from their appearances to that air of mystery with which they carried themselves.

Such musings were interrupted when the old pony, possibly zebra turned to Rarity and began approaching. The discolored leg seemed to bury itself into the dirt with each step it took, and it made no noise in contrast to the soft clicks of hooves against ground that the other three made. As he got closer and Rarity got a better view, it became clear why; much of the leg was artificial, carved out of wood.

He stopped a couple of steps directly before her, an impressive feat considering the coverings over the zebra’s eyes, and bowed his head. “Princess Shmarity, Her Highness of these lands. You grace our little village with your presence so grand. A thousand pardons for making Your Highness wait, but I had matters to attend that kept me late.”

“It’s quite alright. And please, there’s no need to bow.”

The crowd stirred at Rarity’s assurance. Slowly, cautiously, the older equine lifted his head. “If that is your insistence, I shall obey. Tell me, Princess, how have you enjoyed your brief stay?”

“It’s been wonderful,” Rarity said. “I can’t thank your village enough for the hospitality I’ve been shown, especially from Farm Right and his household.”

The large stallion in the back snorted and muttered something under his breath.

“Rowdy, do you have something to add?”

“Nothing I haven’t said already,” Rowdy grumbled, ignoring the glares from the audience and from Farm Right. “And nothing nopony with half a brain who actually cares about their neighbors and family don’t already know.”

“Oh, shut your gab,” Farm growled. Some in the crowd nodded in agreement. Others now scowled and sneered at him. Bickering soon broke out. “All you’ve done is gripe and complain and—“

“Enough!”

The scarred mare had been the one to speak and silence the crowd. “We’ve heard all of your arguments already. That is not why we’re here. We’re here to hear her,” she said, pointing at Rarity.

“Thank you, Huntress, my dear,” Elder Woods said with a nod in the mare’s direction. He turned back to face Rarity. “Now please, Princess, tell us how you end up here. The last we had heard, you were prisoner of that magic squid none could defeat. Is it possible, has that tentacled terror been beat?”

Murmurs among the watching ponies began anew. Excited, hopeful whispers and scoffs of incredulity mingled in the air as Rarity considered her only honest answer. The truth was a disappointing reality, but Farm Right and his village deserved better than half-baked lies.

“I, I don’t know.”

Those that had been paying attention became quiet. Others who took notice to their fellows joined the confused hush after a few short inquiries. Some, like Rowdy, frowned.

“You don’t know?” said the mare with the scar. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—“

“Did you see the heroes or maybe a few stray adventurers?” the mare continued. “Was there a fight? How did you get away? What don’t you know?”

“Anything!” Rarity suddenly found herself shrieking. It was as if every bit of stress she had experienced from the minute she woke up had been building up and boiling, waiting for an opening to explode out of. Well, it got its opening, a chance for her to finally express and air out her frustration, manners be damned. “I don’t know anything about where in Equestria I am or what I’m doing here or what’s going on. I’m sorry.” She looked to Farm Right, the stallion who had shown her such kindness. “I’m sorry, but I’m not this Princess Shmarity. My name is Rarity. Rarity! All I know is that I woke up this morning in a bed that wasn’t my own wearing a dress I wouldn’t dare be seen in unless I was six during Nightmare Night in a cell owned by some silly squid that got into that stage performer Trixie’s wardrobe who put two of my friends in some kind of a coma after dressing them in garish costumes from a cheap fantasy production and drawing Xs over their eyes!”

Her chest heaved as her lungs struggled to gather enough oxygen to compensate for the flood of words she expelled. Rarity took a deep breath. “Oh, and my horn’s missing, and I don’t know why or how or what I need to do to get my magic back, and normally that would be my greatest concern, but with how this day has gone, I don’t know what to be most worried about. So excuse when I say I don’t know because I. Really. Don’t. Have a clue about what’s going on!”

Rarity, face flushed red, again fought to breathe evenly as the crowd stood sand stared silently, for a good long minute. Then came their questions, all screamed over one another, leaving everything except for a few contextless words obscured and unintelligible. Anger and confusion could be heard in their voices and seen in their eyes. The mare with the scar shouted and stomped and pointed, but her attempts to establish order were largely ignored.

Any feelings of relief from having finally releasing all that pent-up anxiety, vanished with one glance at Farm Right. His features were a collage of emotions, of worry and concern, of confusion, of uncertainty, like a lost child separated from their guardian. Over the din, Rarity uttered one more apology as clearly as possible, hoping that he could at least read her lips. There was no reaction from the farmer who just continued to stare. Rarity turned away and looked instead at Woods.

The elderly zebra’s face was unreadable. He wore a mostly blank expression with a a small, almost unnoticeable frown. For a while, he simply stood there, standing directly in front of Rarity. He tilted his head to one side, then to the other, then coughed.

It wasn’t a very loud sound, quite soft really, but despite the noise coming from the crowd, Rarity still heard the cough clearly. It appeared she wasn’t the only one as the other ponies gave pause and turned to the old zebra in front of the bonfire. The hoots of owls and chirps of crickets along with the snaps and pops of the flames licking away at the wood were the only sounds now as all waited on Elder Woods.

“Start from the beginning,” he said.

And so Rarity did, from the moment she awoken onward. Woods interjected every so often at her mentions of Ponyville and Equestria, making sure he had heard correctly, but for the rest he was quiet. Rarity wished she could’ve said about the scarred mare who seemed to have a question every other sentence. How many guards were there, what was the quality of their armaments, were there any large monsters, how high were the walls, what were the walls made of, were any secret passages or magical artifacts, and the only answer Rarity could provide, a short admission of ignorance, was one the mare did not care for.

The only answer she seemed satisfied with was Rarity’s description of the large squid, this “Squid Wizard” as the mare called it, perhaps the same “Squidzard” Harvest mention. The whole crowd gasped when she got to her interaction with it, and Elder Woods’s brow furrowed when she mentioned how the squid seemed to refer to her as “Princess Shmarity,” just as the village had been doing. The gasps grew louder and there were even cries when Rarity reached the part about Spike and Discord’s unmoving bodies being presented to her. Elder Woods became just as intrusive as the mare next to him, asking multiple times whether Rarity was certain about what she had seen, what were the details, and was her description of Spike and Discord accurate.

“And was there a third?” the mare with the scar added once Woods was finished. “A large red stallion in armor. Was he among them?”

“No. It was just Spike and Discord. The only armored ponies were the guards.”

“Then, then there’s still hope.” The mare let out a sigh. “If Sir Bigguns is still alive, maybe—“

“Maybe what?” Rowdy suddenly exclaimed. “He’s one stallion. I wasn’t sure ‘bout their chances when there were just three of them, and now that Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz are dead, well, what can Sir Bigguns do now?”

“They’re not dead.”

The sullen stallion turned to glare at Rarity. “What was that?”

“Spike and Discord aren’t dead. They, they’re just sleeping. Or under a spell.”

“Oh, shut it!” Rowdy took a step toward her. “That’s ridiculous, and don’t go trying to give us all false hope. You’ve done enough already.”

“Hey!” Farm Right once again placed himself between Rarity and Rowdy. “Don’t you talk to her that way.”

“Or what?” Rowdy laughed. “Why are you defending her? She’s not the princess, she said it herself. For all we know, she could be a spy or something. Heck, don’t know why she even acts like she cares about the deaths of those heroes, nopony here’s falling for it.”

“How dare you!” Rarity growled. She found herself trying to push past Farm Right. “How dare you say I don’t care about Spike! How—“

“Ha, you can’t even get their names right,” Rowdy said, snorting. “Well you can’t fool me, I—“

“Enough.”

Elder Woods hadn’t raised his voice, and his tone remained calm and measured, but at that single word, barely even a command, Rowdy shut his mouth. His lips pressed tightly together, and his cheeks became red, as if the effort of containing the rest of his opinions to himself was causing physical strain. The zebra turned back to Rarity.

“Now, continue, if you please. We’ve yet to learn how you broke free.”

“I, I’m afraid I really don’t quite know.” The mare with the scar narrowed her gaze and opened her mouth, but Rarity continued on before her complaints could be vocalized. “I remember trying to get to my friends. The guards, they were all over me, trying to keep me away. I fell, and then there was this white light that filled the room, and when it faded, I found myself at you village’s doorstep.”

“A blinding white light,” Elder Woods hummed.

“Did you hear any incantations,” the scarred mare, Elder Woods had called her huntress, either as a name or a title, questioned. “See any images or runes? Was there a source to the light?”

“No, no, and I don’t believe so.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Rowdy scoffed as murmurs and mutterings resumed within the audience. “Elder Woods, you don’t actually believe what she’s saying, right? It’s crazy, ridiculous. Don’t fall for her—“

The old zebra silenced the stallion with a raised hoof, his only front hoof. Slowly, he brought the hoof to his face and tapped the wrappings around his eyes. “Huntress?”

The mare called huntress approached. She hesitated before lifting her own hooves and undoing the bindings. There were more gasps in the crowd, and many of the ponies Rarity observed turned their gaze to the night sky, the ground, anywhere other than directly at her, Huntress, or Elder Woods. She turned back to face the elderly zebra just as strips of linen fluttered to the ground.

Staring blankly back at her were a pair of milky orbs. There were no pupils or irises, just an endless sea of white. The village head moved toward Rarity, suddenly appearing inches away at a speed she wouldn’t have thought possible for the old zebra. Wordlessly, he placed both his front hoof and the end of his artificial leg against the sides of Rarity’s head and held it still, forcing her gaze to met his. Any urge to struggle or look away or even blink disappeared. The world became blank, as white as those sightless eyes. A slight buzz rang through her ears that drowned out the ambient nocturne sounds and the crackling of the fire.

“I see.” Elder Woods released Rarity’s head, letting it drop and hang limply and break eye contact.

“Well?” the mare called Huntress asked.

Elder Woods closed his eyes. “She believes what she says is true. There will be no need for more questions, she has indeed told us all she knew.”

“Then, she’s telling the truth?” the scarred mare asked. “She’s not Princess Shmarity?”

The zebra pointed to the discarded wrappings. As Huntress helped tie them back over his eyes, Elder Woods answered, saying, “All I can say is that she believes it so, but whether that is reality, I do not know. The Squid Wizard’s arcane powers are mysterious and vast, it is possible this is all a result of a spell he’s cast.”

“A spell that changes a pony’s identity and memories?” Huntress frowned. “For what purpose?”

Elder Woods shook his head and shrugged. “Who can say what the Squid Wizard has planned. It could be a way to seed chaos across the land. Or maybe it was just a mistake and a sign that his might is starting to wane. Her presence could be a boon or a bane, for certain I cannot say.” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. He turned to Rarity, and what vigor was left in his aged body seemed to leave, leaving him appearing very exhausted. Every wrinkle on his face deepened as he frowned. “However, for the safety of our village, she cannot stay.”

Farm Right was the one to break the silence that followed the village head’s announcement. “W-wait a minute, we can’t just—“

Elder Woods raised another hoof, cutting Farm off. “You have your objections, and I understand why, but the dangers of keeping her here are too high. If this was indeed an escape and not an elaborate ruse, the Squid Wizard’s guards will be on the look-out, and a battle with them is one we will surely lose, and it would be a costly battle at that, of that there’s no doubt.“

“But—“

“Farm Right, I commend your kindness and compassion, but I cannot permit endangering us all in this fashion. Are you willing to throw away our lives, not just yours and neighbors, but that of your child and wife?”

“I—“ Farm’s limbs shook. He looked away, muttering curses under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” Elder Woods bowed his head. “You may stay for the night,” he said to Rarity, “but you must leave this place at first daylight. It pains me to abandon a being so confused and lost, but to continue harboring you here, we cannot afford the cost. Please understand, as its head, I must ensure that my village strives. If we ever drew the Squid Wizard attention and ire, this place would not likely survive.”

The evening air had gotten much cooler. Rarity shivered. “Where would I go?” she asked. Her voice was soft, subdued, and dulled as she struggled to contain her rising panic. Again, she found herself grappling with a question she had no answer.

“There’s a town with an adventurers’ league out in the west, about a week or so away,” Huntress interjected. “Baldursgait, I think it was. With that many adventurers around, she could easily find a place to hide or find help. At the very least, they’d be better equipped at defending themselves if the Squid Wizard ever caught wind of her.”

“Hm.” Elder Woods tapped his chin as he considered the suggestion. “Yes, that may be for the best. Come morning, leave for Baldursgait in the west.”

“Wait, we’re just letting her go?”

All turned to the stallion who had spoken, and for a moment, he shrunk back at the sudden attention. A crease formed in the bindings around Elder Woods eyes as they narrowed behind them. “Rowdy, you were the one against having her here from the very start. Or has there been a change of heart?”

“What? No, that’s not it,” Rowdy said hurriedly. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly becoming uncomfortable from all of the attention as now the audience’s whispers were about him. “It’s just, I was thinking, if we gave her back to, you know, them—“

Boos and groans from the crowd interrupted him. “Listen, think about it!” he shouted, gesturing frantically. “If we cut a deal, say we caught her or something, maybe we’d earn some favors, keep everypony here safe. We’d—“

Screams filled the air as the small bonfire suddenly exploded into a towering inferno, completely consuming the fuel, leaving nothing but smoke, ash, and darkness. What little light was left was provide by a couple of torches and a few lit lanterns. Something dashed through the shadows. Once again, Elder Woods’s speed exceed Rarity’s expectations as Rowdy suddenly found himself face to face with the blind, old zebra. The gaunt stallion took a step back, and with an audible gulp, he shut his mouth.

“No.”

“But—“

“My decision has been made. To such an idea, I will not be swayed. Suggesting something so shortsighted and cruel.” Elder Woods scoffed. “Making a deal with the Squid Wizard? Don’t be a fool.“

The larger stallion clicked his tongue and scowled before turning his back to the village leader and marching away. The crowd parted, letting him through without trouble while Elder Woods continued to face Rowdy’s path. When darkness hid Rowdy from everypony else’s eyes, Elder Woods let his sightless gaze fall. He let out a sigh and began to sway. The scarred mare immediately went to his side, letting him lean against her for support.

“Elder Woods has spoken. This meeting is adjourned. Everypony, return to your homes.” She turned to Rarity. “We’ll discuss the details of your journey tomorrow morning. Rest assured, we will not allow you to leave unprepared.”

Rarity could only nod. The scarred mare turned to face Farm Right. “Are you still willing to house her for the night?“

There had only been seconds between the inquiry and Farm’s answer, but to Rarity, the delay spoke volumes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Make sure she’s comfortable. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s get going Prin—ah, Miss, um, miss.”

With another apathetic nod, Rarity followed Farm Right as he guided them through the village and the crowd of ponies also making their way back home. Home. The very word wanted to make her laugh and cry. Here she was, far from home and with no way of returning. She had hoped that meeting with the village head would have given her answers, but now she felt even more lost.

Lost and abandoned, alone, trapped in a place she didn’t belong with an identity that didn’t belong to her. Her heart felt as heavy as her hooves as she forced herself forward with each dragging step. Rarity didn’t seem to notice when they had stopped before the front door of Farm’s cottage, barely noticed Harvest rushing up to her with dozens of questions already gushing out. Farm Right pulling Harvest to the side, Farm and Hearth Stead speaking in private, setting up those straw mattresses, lying down on one all to herself as her host family squeezed onto the other, it was all just a blur. It didn’t even occur to Rarity that she was going to bed without brushing her teeth or that she hadn’t done anything to avoid bedhead.

The cottage had gone dark. Rarity felt more than a hint of envy toward the ponies next to her who were already lightly snoring. Rarity meanwhile wasn’t sure how much sleep she could manage with every worry she’d been carrying. No doubt they would haunt her nightmares. Still, restless sleep was better than no sleep at all, Rarity supposed as she suppressed a yawn. It had been a very long day, and tomorrow promised to be no shorter. She let her tired eyes close shut. Her thoughts eventually quieted as the lingerings of consciousness faded.

For a moment, all was still and silent. Rarity was at peace.

Then came the sensation of falling.

5. Awakening of Fates

Awakening of Fates

Gusts of wind rushed past her face, blowing her mane and the fur of her coat back. Her limbs flailed wildly as they searched futilely for support. Her heart beat furiously and her lungs gasped for air as her chest was compressed by the sudden pressure.

It was a feeling Rarity was all too intimate with, from ballooning accidents and incidents to discovering the limits of wings made from gossamer and morning dew to having been dropped by a rampaging dragon after the behemoth reverted back to his original, adorable self. For a creature without wings, she certainly found herself tumbling through the air quite often.

Rarity forced her eyes open, and suddenly her hooves found purchase. The ground beneath them was soft, softer than any cushion. It was like standing on cotton fluff. Pink cotton fluff, Rarity determined as she looked down and around. More colorful, fluffy platforms dotted a blank blue skyline. Were they clouds? Rarity shifted her weight from one side to the next, and the ground clung to her hooves as they moved. If memory served, clouds weren’t supposed to be so sticky. Or so sweet smelling, Rarity added after taking a cautionary sniff at her raised hoof.

The pink clumps were starting to move despite the lack of any breeze. Several flew toward Rarity and attached themselves to the fluff she stood on. A bridge soon formed before her, leading out to a reddening horizon.

Rarity hesitated. She took a quick look behind her. Nothing there but blue sky. Swallowing to steal her nerves, she glanced over the side. Nothing below her but blue sky. The ground, if it existed at all, was too far to be seen. And unsurprisingly there was nothing above her but blue sky.

“Well, onwards and forwards, I suppose,” Rarity muttered, having exhausted all other directions. She started onto the path, cringing as she peeled her hooves from the sticky, sugary surface with each step.

More clumps of pink cotton flew to the end of the bridge, extending it with every step she took, of which Rarity quickly lost count of. She had no way of keeping track of time, it could have been hours and definitely felt like it, but the end was nowhere in sight. Every bit of progress she may have made was swiftly erased as the path continued to grow. She tried to quicken her pace, but the softness and stickiness of the path’s surface kept her at a maximum speed of a brisk walk.

Time passed, and Rarity’s patience reached its breaking point. She groaned to the heavens above and turned around, only the find that the way behind her was gone. The pink fluff had vanished, cutting off her retreat and leaving her with only two options, and Rarity hadn’t yet become desperate enough to try diving off the side.

Gritting her teeth, Rarity turned forward and prepared for the continuation of this endless, pointless trek. Instead of a horizon in the distance, however, she found herself just a hop, skip, and jump away from a floating island. Tropical trees with shady, blue palms lined the coast as a waterfall of bubbly purple liquid cascaded off the side, raining down onto whatever was below. Carved out of a volcano actively releasing melted chocolate from the center of the island was a massive throne.

And in the throne sat a familiar mismatched serpentine body, sipping from a golden goblet it held in a claw.

“Discord?”

The creature chuckled, and Rarity lost confidence in her assessment. The laugh she heard was higher and lighter in pitch and tone than the draconequus’s typical guffaws. Upon further inspection, the body before her wasn’t a perfect match either; there was a sleekness here that was absent on Discord. The brown fur seemed to shine in the light while the red scales on its tail sparkled. There were few bends in its serpent-like body, and the ones that were there reminded Rarity more of the twists and turns fashion models performed on runways than of the accordion shape Discord normally presented himself in. The wings of the creature were just as conflicting as Discord’s, with one like a pegasus’s or a bird’s consisting of white feathers and one dark and webbed with a leathery membrane that could’ve belonged to a dragon or bat, but while the set on Discord’s back were comically small for a being of his size, these wings were proportional to the body they were attached to.

Perhaps the most striking difference were the facial features. Now Rarity wasn’t the kind of mare who would ever describe an acquaintance as unattractive, just that if she had to be generous, Discord’s face looked like it had been punched squarely in the snout by a professional pugilist then compressed by an industrial vice before being thrown into the streets that an entire tribe of buffalo was stampeding through. She couldn’t say the same about the face before her, however. Like the rest of its body, the head was smooth, with curves instead of lumps, and it was more noticeably equine. The tuff of hair on the chin was missing, as was that single fang that was normally sticking out of the draconequus’s mouth. Its white mane seemed to flow in some nonexistent breeze, much like with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and the way the creature held their head reminded Rarity of Equestria’s sovereigns as well.

The eyelids remained closed, but something gleamed through the slits. The creature smiled, flashing rows upon rows of fangs. Rarity swallowed. “M-my mistake. I apologize, I thought you were, well—“

“Someone you know? Or shall we say, knew?” The creature laughed again and made a motion toward Rarity. The fluffy platform she was on suddenly rose and floated up to the throne. “Don’t be afraid, child. I know of your blight, and I am here to help.”

“You do? You are? Then, do you know how I got to this world? Why I am here?”

“But of course! My child, I’m the one who brought you here.”

“You? But—“ Rarity shrugged against the sticky fluff at her feet. “You did this? Why?”

The being shrugged. “We made a pact, the king of Spiketopia and I. He needed children to continue his dynasty, and I required an agent in the mortal material realm. And you, child.” The being reached forward and tapped a talon against the tip of Rarity’s nose. “You are the product of that pact.”

“Pact? Spiketopia? Court of what?” Rarity shook her head. “What are you talking about? None of this makes any sense!”

The creature on the throne sighed and pinched the bridge of their (her?) snout. “I forget how slow you mortals sometimes are. Let’s start with something simple. You want to save your friends, don’t you?”

Rarity nodded slowly. “Yes?” she said hesitantly.

The creature clapped. “Wonderful! And I need the Squid Wizard taken out of the picture. Don’t worry about why, your mortal mind wouldn’t understand. What you do need to understand is that our interests align, and I am willing to help. It’ll be a, what’s the mortal word? Starts with T, something to do with the exchanging of goods and services?”

“Trade?” Rarity suggested.

“Yes! A trade. You do this favor for me, I help with this problem of yours. Reasonable, yes?”

“Then, you can get us back home?”

“One step at a time.” The being shook their head. “So impatient, but I suppose it comes with having such a limited lifespan. First, let’s get your friends back into fighting condition, and we’ll work from there, okay?“

Rarity frowned. Every part of her was tense. The creature’s very presence seemed to carry an air of suspicion, much like with Discord, and it took time before Rarity could look past that air and give Discord a modicum of trust for him to toy with. And to be given such a tempting offer, assistance when all other avenues seemed lost to her, it was far too good to be true. “You’ll help me save Spike and Discord?”

“Amongst other things, yes,” the being purred.

“And in return, what will it cost me?”

“I told you, I want the Squid Wizard gone. I have plans for Spiketopia, plans that that meddling cephalopod is interfering with. And again, don’t bother asking about those plans,” the being added with a sniff. “You wouldn’t understand them even if I wanted to tell you, but rest assured, you’ll have a future part to play. So yeah, helping you helps me. What, sounds too good to be true? That look on your face, you don’t quite believe me, do you?”

“How did—“ Rarity began before cutting herself off. The being’s eyes were still all but shut. They couldn’t have possibly seen her expression.

The being laughed. “Don’t trust me? A wise decision, but if we’re going to get any work done, that’s going to have to change, at least a little bit. Hm.” They rubbed their chin thoughtfully. “Ah, I know. You must have many more questions. Go ahead, ask away.”

“And you’ll answer them?” asked Rarity. “You’ll answer them honestly?”

“To the best of my ability. I’ll admit, I’m not omniscient, and some knowledge can’t be handled by mortal minds. How about this, if I can’t give you a straight answer, I’ll let you know. Sound fair?”

Rarity mulled over the presented opportunity as she looked over the serpent-like creature in front of her. Their features were unreadable, their body language still so foreign, Rarity had no way to confirm whether the answers she’d receive were truths or lies. Still, the chance for actual answers was too great to squander.

“Very well,” Rarity finally said. She considered her long list of questions before settling on one quick and easy and fresh on her mind. “What is Spiketopia?”

“The country we, or rather, you, are currently residing in, recently conquered and under the control of the Squid Wizard.”

“Why is it named after Spike?”

“Sheer coincidence.”

“Who are you?”

The being made a sweeping bow, stretching out one of their arms while placing the other over their chest. “Why, the Queen of Fey, your most humble of patrons.”

“Fey?”

“Or fairy, fair folk, Children of the Weave, or...” Rarity’s ears flattened against her skull at the following string of unrepeatable syllables. “Whatever your preference. Fey just felt the most concise. And, as my agent, you carry my symbol.”

The creature’s eyelids lifted. Rarity covered her eyes, shielding them from the blinding light. The light quickly subsided, and Rarity lifted her head for a quick look at what had been hidden.

Instead of a backdrop of white, Rarity found herself staring into an ocean of gold. The round black pupil normally found in the center was missing, and in its place was a silver snowflake, with jagged arrows branching out of the middle in every direction. Something burned against Rarity’s chest, and Rarity, as a reflex, grabbed at it. The silver pendant from earlier now sat in her hoof, humming away.

The being smiled. “Yes, that’s it. Most won’t recognize it, but those with connections to the Fey will understand that you are under my patronage, so do be careful about whom you show it too. It will also serve as a focus through which you may channel a small portion of my power.”

Rarity tore her eyes away from the pendant. “I’m sorry, channel your power? What do you mean?”

“Oh, just a small favor to help you on your way,” the being said. “Like how you escaped from the Squid Wizard.” They leaned over and laid a finger against the silver symbol. “Now there is a limit to what you can do with my magic, you are only borrowing a small piece of it after all, and you can only use it so many times before that pool runs dry. After that disappearing act, I’d say you’ve got two miracles left, so make them count.” They lifted themselves up and returned to their seat on the throne. “We can discuss increasing that amount after you take care of the Squid Wizard for me.”

Rarity gave the symbol a little shake. “How does it work? The channeling, I mean. How exactly do I use your magic?”

“Dunno. This is all pretty new to me too. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You got out of the Squid Wizard’s clutches pretty okay.”

“I was dropped into a muddy puddle,” grumbled Rarity.

“Eh, practice makes perfect. Only, hm, you don’t really have much to practice with. Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” the being blustered. “Next question.”

It was hardly a satisfying answer, but Rarity moved on. “Do you know why everypony thought I was this Princess Shmarity?”

The Queen of Fey shrugged. “Probably because you look like her. Or are her. Possessing her body? I don’t know, I don’t really understand that sense of identity you mortals put so much stock in. It doesn’t really matter.”

“It does to me,” Rarity protested. “This whole identity crisis has been most confusing and has caused more than enough heartache already.”

“Look, just think of it as playing a role in a stage production,” the Queen of Fey responded with a dismissive wave. “In that world, the world you’ll wake up to, you are Princess Shmarity, princess of Spiketopia, former prisoner of the Squid Wizard, secret agent of the Fey. You might even be able to use that identity to your advantage. Or play the crazed amnesiac who was potentially brainwashed by the Squid Wizard and thus probably shouldn’t be trusted and likely won’t be able to accomplish anything, your call. Next question.”

“Why am I here?”

“Ah, one of life’s greatest mysteries. Be a little more specific or we will be here for the rest of your relative short lifespan.”

“Okay, let’s start with why am I here right before you? Where is this place?” Rarity gestured to the empty skyline behind her.

“Oh, your dreams,” the Queen of Fey answered nonchalantly. “That’s the where. It’s a tricky thing, communicating to mortals. Even in dreams my presence is enough to cause lesser beings to lose sanity if I’m not careful. As for why, well, it seemed like you could a bit of guidance. Was I mistaken?”

“Then—“

“That was a rhetorical question by the way,” the Queen of Fey added. “You most definitely needed a shove in the right direction. Don’t go making a habit of it, though. I do have an entire plane of existence to maintain and won’t always be available. A bit of self-reliance goes a long way, you know.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. Queen of Fey, Lord of Chaos, both were utterly infuriating to deal with. “Right, well. Then do you have any advice for me?”

“Well for one, make sure your next question is a good one.” The Queen of Fey pointed up. Rarity’s gaze followed the gesture. Parts of blue sky had gone dark and gray, and that lack of color was slowly spreading. The world suddenly shook, and Rarity grabbed her forehead as a shrill, deafening screech rang out and through her ears. The noise subdued, but it left behind a throbbing headache. “You’ll be waking up soon. I won’t be able to keep you for much longer. Oh, and two, if you want to save your friends and, I suppose by extension, this land, you’re going to want to head south. That’s where you’ll find information on necromancy.”

“Necromancy?” repeated Rarity. It wasn’t a word she knew, but she was well read enough to recognize the prefix for death, which only raised more questions. Before she could consider the subject further, however, the world shook violently, nearly knocking Rarity off balance.

“Yes, in the south! Ask for the scrolls of Valmeyjar! Last question!” the Queen of Fey yelled over the rumbling. “Hurry!”

The pounding in her head was becoming unbearable. The winds were picking up in strength, throwing up sand and dust into the air. Rarity raised a hoof over her eyes and squinted as the island and the Queen of Fey became blurred. She tried to scream over the howls of the wind and the rumbling of the world.

The Queen of Fey leaned forward with their paw cupped around an ear. “What?”

“My horn!” Rarity tried again. “Where is my horn?”

The being was no longer visible. Rarity strained to listen past the noisy din. “Look south!” Rarity managed to hear just as her vision went red and she fell to the floor, screaming. She grabbed hold of her head, digging her hooves into its sides. Her skull felt like it was seconds away from splitting apart as the pain intensified relentlessly.

And in a single instant, without any warning, the aching disappeared. Rarity’s breathing calmed, and the sensation of touch slowly returned to her body. The softness of those pink sticky fluffs was replaced by a hard, itchy surface.

Something stirred beside her. Rarity opened her eyes just as the crow of a rooster rang through the village, welcoming a new day.

6. Impression Left Behind

Impression Left Behind

The sun took its time climbing over the horizon to take its place in the sky. The village was still largely dark, but already it bustled with life. Several ponies were up and wandered the streets just outside their homes, chopping wood or sharpening tools as they prepared for the day ahead. A small line had formed before a well in the center of the village as the ponies waited to fill their jugs with water. A couple of chimneys were already puffing out smoke as the rooster continued to sing.

The cottage of Farm Right and Hearth Stead was no exception. The whole family had waken themselves, gotten up, and shoved the mattresses to the side while the rooster’s first crow was still echoing. Farm, after a quick greeting and throwing on his cap, stepped out while Hearth busied herself at the stove, feeding the fire with bits of kindling and bundles of fire wood before pulling out a sack of grains and the cutting board and preparing some vegetables.

Only Rarity and Harvest sat around with nothing to do. Rarity had offered her assistance but Hearth was adamant in her refusal.

“You’ll, ah, be having a long day,” she had said with a halfhearted smile. “It might be best to save your strength until then.”

So Rarity took her place at the dining table and watched Hearth prepare breakfast for a few minutes before turning to the filly sitting across from her. Harvest was being strangely quiet, considering the loud and apparently boundless energy she, like many youth, seemed to exude the previous day. Perhaps she was simply tired, Rarity reasoned as Harvest let out a large yawn.

Should she attempt engaging in conversation? As versed as she was at making small talk with members of high society, Rarity was much less experienced in the kinds of topics that would interest a filly like Harvest. She tried to recall the times she had spent with Sweetie Belle, tried to remember what her younger sister enjoyed talking about, tried to ignore the waves of homesickness that came with such memories.

Show tunes, tutoring at Twilight’s school, her most recent escapades with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, nothing there seemed very appropriate for Harvest. Rarity went back further, to when Sweetie Belle was closer to Harvest’s age. Puppet shows, dress up, ice cream, her most recent attempts with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders in earning a Cutie... Mark.

One quick glance confirmed it; Harvest’s flanks were blank. Rarity cleared her throat. “So, Harvest?”

The filly lifted her head and blinked. “Hm?”

Rarity managed to continue smiling despite her misgivings at Harvest’s intonation. That reluctance in her tone, was that really just from a shortage of sleep? “I noticed you don’t have a Cutie Mark. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, my very own sis—“

That vision, it was so vivid, it couldn’t possibly have been just a dream. It certainly refused to fade from her memory like a simple dream. Even now, the Queen of Fey’s advice ran through her head, and the part about playing a role caused her to pause. Did Princess Shmarity have a sister? Did Rarity even want to assume this identity? Was there any point in pretending with Harvest? Farm may have already explained what had happened at the village gathering last night. Perhaps that was why Harvest was acting so shy, and attempting to act like Princess Shmarity might further damage Harvest’s perception of her.

Harvest was staring, waiting with a look of confusion. Rarity cleared her throat. “Er, that is to say, somepony I was close to didn’t get her Cutie Mark until she was older than you are now. Is there anything you’re particularly interested in? Any hobbies?”

Harvest gave a little shrug. “Not really,” she said, resting her chin on the table. “Not a whole lot to do around here.”

“Oh. Well, there must be something you enjoy doing, maybe something with your friends?”

The filly rolled her head onto a cheek. “Nah.”

“Oh.” Rarity’s smile wavered. “I see.”

“Harvest, get your head off the table,” Hearth Stead called over from her position at the stove. Harvest’s annoyed sigh was the last sound either she or Rarity made before an air of silence and awkwardness settled over them. Rarity’s failures in starting a conversation sapped any desire to try again.

The spell over the table finally broke when the door swung open, and in stepped Farm Right. He dragged a large jug behind him while carrying a small bag in his mouth, letting it hang limply from his clenched teeth. With a quick nod to Rarity, he continued on to his wife and set the jug of sloshing water next to her. The bag he placed right in the middle of Hearth’s breakfast preparations. The mare raised an eye brow at the interruption.

“A little something from Mellows and her family,” Farm Right explained. At that, Hearth lit up and all but tore open the bag. Four large, golden, lopsided orbs rolled onto the counter and into Hearth’s outstretched hoof.

“Eggs!” Harvest cried out, rushing over to her parents. She squeezed past them and placed her hooves against the edge of the counter, hopping up and down for a better look. “And there’s so many of them.”

“Be sure to thank Mrs. Mellows when you see her,” Farm Right said with a chuckle. “Come on, go get ready for breakfast. Can you show, um, our guest where to wash up?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Harvest pushes herself away from the eggs and the counter and ran out, not bothering to wait for the pony she was supposed to be guiding. Hearth Stead gave Rarity an apologetic smile as Farm rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment.

“Sorry for Harvest’s attitude, miss,” he said. “Wasn’t easy explaining the situation to her, and looks like she’s still taking it pretty hard. I mean, you saw the fit she threw last night.”

Rarity, lost in her own worries and panic that night, couldn’t honestly say that she did; there wasn’t much she could recall from that period between the end of her meeting with Elder Woods and her vision of the Queen of Fey. “What did you tell her?”

“Told her you’d have to leave,” Farm explained, “that you, um, might not be our princess.” He grimaced. “Didn’t feel right to lie to her, but maybe I said too much. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Rarity assured. “I understand, there’s no need to apologize. Now, where do I wash my hooves?”

“There’s a washbasin around the back,” said Hearth. “Right next to a large barrel with the water. Just be sure to cover them both when you’re done, please.”

With a nod and a quick word of thanks, Rarity followed Harvest’s path out of the cottage. A brisk morning air greeted her almost immediately, and she shivered in response. The pendant from her dreams, the Court of Fey’s symbol, bounced against her front. Rarity placed a hoof gingerly on it, making a face as she brushed past the crusty cloth of the dirty dress she’d have to change out of the moment she got the chance to. The silver symbol was still, no humming, no vibrations.

A focus to channeling the Queen of Fey’s magic. Well, while she had no idea how it work, at least she knew its origin and purpose and could now put those mysteries to rest. Not to mention she had at least the direction where she could find information on this ‘necromancy’ to save Spike and Discord and reunite with her horn. How fortuitous that all her answers seemed to lie south.

Maybe even a little too convenient, Rarity thought to herself as she headed behind the house and found the large tin washbasin covered with a sheet of canvas. There was still the matter of actually trusting the Queen of Fey. Maybe it was the disinterested way they carried themselves, maybe it was the references to a plan she wasn’t privy to, maybe the being just reminded her too much of Discord, whatever the reason, there was just something about the magical sovereign that sent Rarity’s guard up.

Rarity shrugged with the barrel’s lid for a bit before filling the basin with water. Well, she had a direction and a term, perhaps Rarity could find somepony who could confirm the information she was given. And if the information couldn’t be verified, if it was all just a pile of lies, Rarity tried not to ponder too long on that scenario and what her potential options would be. For now, she tried to maintain a level of optimism tempered by caution and skepticism.

The water settled down as Rarity readied her hooves for a washing. There was an obvious lack of soap or towels, and Rarity questioned the reasoning behind washing up outside instead of indoors given how dusty the path between here and the front of the cottage had been. She looked down and nearly screamed at the mare in the water. Her mane could have been more appropriately described as a nest, messy and sticking out in parts that had once been perfectly curled and arranged. Spots of dirt clung to the face reflecting off the water’s clear surface, and there were sections of visibly matted fur. She could only imagine and shudder at what her tail and the rest of her body was like.

There was little she could do with her mane without the proper tools, she’d have even settle for a simple comb, so she focused her efforts on her her face, scrubbing at her cheeks as she splashed them with freezing water. She eventually reached the limit of what could be done with just water and unassisted physical exertion and came to terms with her disappointing appearance before continuing onto her hooves. Again, the final result wasn’t exactly what Rarity considered satisfactory, but she supposed it would have to do. The used water was spilled onto the ground, making mud, and after making sure both the canvas covering and the barrel’s lid were replaced, Rarity headed back inside.

Bowls of porridge were waiting for her at the table, each with a collection of stewed vegetables and an egg. Farm Right looked up at the sound of Rarity’s approach. He expression slowly became one of confusion . “You, uh, happen to bump into Harvest out there?”

“No, I hadn’t seen her,” Rarity answered. “I thought she had finished ahead of me and was already inside.”

“Well, nopony’s gone through that door since you went out,” Farm Right said, frowning. “Hm, where is that filly?”

“I’ll go look for her,” Hearth Stead declared as she undid the apron and removed it. “You two go ahead and get started on breakfast.”

“Maybe we should all look together,” Rarity suggested, starting toward the door. Hearth shook her head and motioned her back to the dining table.

“Elder Woods’ll be here soon. You’re going to need your strength for the—“ The mare hesitated. “For your journey.” Hearth lowered her gaze. “It’ll be a hard one, I’m sure. I’m sorry.” And with her head bowed, Hearth rushed past Rarity and left the cottage.

Farm clasped his hooves together against the table’s surface and sighed as he closed his eyes. “She’s right. We’ve both got a hard day of work ahead of us. Er, I mean, not to say mine’ll be as bad as, just that there’s a lot of work we’ve both got to, um.” He coughed. “Let’s eat.”

Rarity took the seat across from the stumbling farmer and, after seeing Farm dig into his own bowl, picked up her spoon and pierced the egg yolk. It broke easily, spilling out warm, gooey, yolk over the stewed grains. She lifted a spoonful of porridge and egg to her mouth. The lightly seasoned barley mixed perfectly with the subtle flavor of the yolk. A second spoonful soon followed, this time with a slice of salted radish.

The bowls to the sides of her went untouched. “Will Harvest be alright?” Rarity asked.

“Hm?” Farm Right raised his head and quickly wiped his chin with his hoof. “Well, her breakfast’ll be cold when she gets here, and I figure she might be getting few extra chores for her attitude. Besides that, I don’t think there’s much to worry about. Harvest was like this the morning Summer Springs left too. Don’t you worry, she’ll be back when she gets hungry.”

“If you say so.” Rarity returned to her breakfast. “You mentioned that Elder Woods was coming to see us?”

“Well, you specifically,” Farm Right said. “To, make sure you were prepared and, uh, left the village without trouble.” At this, Farm swallowed and averted his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Rarity set down her spoon. Suddenly, breakfast wasn’t so appealing. “I understand your leader’s reasoning. It’s alright.”

“It really ain’t alright. I mean, even if you aren’t the princess, just throwing you out like this instead of helping.” He shook his head. “Ain’t right. Yeah, these are hard times, but that’s exactly when we should be helping folks who need it, not just looking out for ourselves. Just, ugh.” Farm Right slumped in his seat. “Wish we had more to offer you.”

“You’ve been generous enough already,” Rarity assured. “After everything you and your household has done for me, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

Farm was silent, but he allowed a smile to slowly creep across his face. “Thank you,” he eventually said after a bit.

Rarity smiled back, and the two returned to their breakfast. It didn’t take long before their bowls were empty, and Rarity had her fill. The seats beside her remained unoccupied even as she and Farm Right left theirs to clean up. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Farm looked to Rarity for moment, then turned to the entrance.

Even as Rarity considered whether Hearth and Harvest would’ve bother knocking, the door was opened. She couldn’t see past Farm Right whose body almost immediately stiffened at their visitor’s presence. Then, he seemed to relax, just a bit before his shoulders became tense once more.

“Elder Woods,” Rarity heard him say. “Huntress. We, uh, we were just finishing up breakfast.”

“Then she is ready?” It was the voice of a mare, the same voice of Elder Woods companion from last night.

“Well, I mean, we just finished eating.”

“There’ll be time to digest on the road,” the mare said sharply. “Come, we have much to discuss and little time to spare.”

“Right.” Farm sighed. “Alright, yeah, I get it.” He stepped to the side. “Miss? They’re here for you.”

Rarity took a deep breath and approached the entrance. With Farm Right now out of the way, she could clearly see both the mare called ‘Huntress’ and Elder Woods, with the older zebra a few steps behind the mare. Both were fitted with large saddle bags, and a couple of additional bundles were strapped to Huntress’s back, including some blankets and what Rarity assumed to be a rolled up sleeping bag. An unstrung bow with a covered quiver was attached to her side.

Rarity cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

“Ah, a good morn to you too,” Elder Woods declared, his wrinkled face cracking into a weathered smile. “How has this day been treating you?”

“It’s been fine, I suppose,” Rarity said. “I can’t complain. And you?”

“We can exchange pleasantries later,” Huntress interjected just as Elder Woods was opening his mouth to speak. He sighed, his smile fading. The mare turned back to Rarity. “Let’s get you geared up first, then we discuss the details.”

She helped the old zebra remove the bags from his back, and from it she pulled out a folded piece of cloth. “Here,” she called out, tossing the cloth toward Rarity. The bundle unraveled, revealing itself to be a hooded cloak. “Get changed. It’ll be easier to travel in than that dress. Something wrong?”

Rarity shook herself and tore her eyes away from the cloak. She tried to smile. “No, no. It’s nothing.”

“Then hurry it up,” the mare ordered. The scar running below her eyes appeared to widen as she scowled.

“Right, of course. Farm, excuse me please.”

“Huh? Oh!” the farmer exclaimed as Rarity all but pushed him out of his own home and slammed the door behind him. He looked to his two visitors with a quizzical expression, and they in turn could only shrug in bewilderment.

“Is that, some sort of royalty thing?” Farm Right asked.

“Wouldn’t know.” Huntress sat back and folded her forelimbs over her chest. She glared at the closed door. “She’s better not be trying to barricade herself inside.”

“One moment please!” came Rarity’s voice from inside. She turned back to the cloak in her hooves. Here was the first opportunity to change out of that old gaudy, dirty dress she found herself in, an opportunity Rarity had been looking so forward to, and now, face to face with the alternative, she found herself hesitating.

Her eyes twitched at their very exposure to the color. Such a drab mix of greens and browns, a less refined mare might have made the comparison to vomit. The fabric was coarse and stiff in her hooves, she didn’t want to think how it would feel against her delicate body. And it was just so, plain. Dull. No designs, no exterior pockets, not even sleeves. It was little more than a blanket with a hood attached.

There was a pound at the door. Somepony was clearly getting impatient. “In a minute!” Rarity called out as she started to undress. Getting out of the dress without her latent magic proved to be a challenge, and she had to stretch to reach the laces on the back, but in the end, she stood triumphantly over that overly pink and puffy crime against fashion, crumpled into a pile.

Donning the cloak on the other hoof took Rarity nearly no time at all, just a simple matter of slipping her head through the hood’s opening and making sure the rest of her body was covered. It surprised how soft the interior of the cloak compared to the toughness of its exterior, perhaps even being made of a different material. She looked down at herself and frowned. As much as she dreaded her current appearance, Rarity still wished for a mirror to at least give herself an appraisal and maybe even provide a few improving touches.

She took one last look at the discarded dress. As much as the seamstress despised its design, it had served her well, protecting her from much of the mud that she had fallen in. The stains had actually reduced the brightness of the pink, making the color almost acceptable. She patted down her new cloak, making sure her pendant was well secured, picked up the dress, and opened the door.

“Apologies for the wait,” she said, the warm smile she wore in contrast to the coolness of her tone.

Huntress responded to Rarity’s look with a glare of her own. “If you’re done wasting time, here.” She marched over to Rarity’s side and threw on the saddlebags that Elder Woods had brought along. Rarity’s knees buckled under the sudden weight. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” In the short time it took for Rarity to adjust to her new burden, the other mare had already made a good amount of distance between them. “Um, are we leaving right now? As in, this very second?”

Huntress groaned. She continued walking but was stopped by Elder Woods. “It is best that you leave before it gets to late. Is there any reason you are wanting to wait?”

“It’s just, I was hoping to thank Hearth one last time and give my farewells to Harvest before I left,” Rarity explained. She looked around. There was the grumpy mare with the scar, there was the old, wizened zebra, there was the compassionate farmer, but only the farmer’s kind wife and their curious daughter were missing.

There was a frustrated sigh from Huntress. “We can’t afford to wait, not if you want to make any real progress before nightfall.”

“Don’t worry, miss,” said Farm Right. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along. They’ll appreciate it, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you, Farm, for everything.” Rarity held out her old dress to the farmer. “It isn’t much, but I’d like you and your family to have this.”

Farm Right simply stared blankly at the offered garments. It struck Rarity a moment too late that a secondhand, unwashed dress from a stranger might not have been the greatest present. “Er, the fabric is very high quality.” And it was, Rarity had to admit that much in spite of her distaste for the dress. “I’m certain your family can find some use for it, maybe for blankets or other clothing.”

“We could never!” Farm exclaimed. He took the dress with shaking hooves. “Thank you, miss. For something this grand, thank you.” He bowed. “We’ll cherish this for generations, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s, that’s good! Yes, good.” Rarity let out a short laugh, relieved that she hadn’t offended her host. The mare ahead of them looked less impressed as she coughed loudly and jerked her head toward some point in the distance. Rarity sighed before turned back to Farm Right. “I wish you the best, you and your family. Farewell.”

“Safe travels, miss. May those above watch over you.”

The goodbyes were said, and yet, Rarity lingered, hoping to hear or see a certain little filly rush toward her. No such luck. With one last sigh, Rarity turned to Huntress and Elder Woods and made her way toward them, each step heavy and not just because of the extra weight on her back.

”A lady is only as good as her word.”

She was leaving behind a dirty dress and a broken promise, hardly the kind of impression Rarity wanted to leave.

7. Storm King’s Thunder

Storm King’s Thunder

It didn’t take long before Farm Right’s house was no longer in view. As they continued on and started to approach the fields of grain stalks, the collection of cottages that made up the village became smaller. Elder Woods instructed Rarity on the gear she had been provided with as they walked, with the mare just ahead of them jumping in every so often to correct the elderly, blind zebra on which pocket a piece of equipment was specifically located. There was a tinderbox, a simple sewing kit consisting of some string, a few squares of canvas, and a wooden needle, rope made of hemp and straw, a canteen already filled with a day’s worth of water, a lodestone to serve as a compass, a small mix of dried berries, mushrooms, and nuts, a purse of a few copper coins, a rudimentary first aid kit made up of a roll of bandages, some salves, and a few vials of some reddish liquid, a small knife, and of course, a crude hoof-drawn map of the area, consisting of triangles for mountains, dots with names scribbled next to them for settlements, and wavy lines for streams and rivers.

“Huntress,” Woods called out. “I require your aid. Show her the path we have made.”

Huntress waited for Rarity and Elder Woods to catch up, then removed the map from Rarity’s saddlebags. “Alright, pay attention,” she commanded. “Your destination is Baldursgait right here.” Rarity followed her hoof toward the dot labeled “Baldursgait” on the map. A thick line descended down from the dot that eventually broke off into an angle. “All you need to is find your way to the main road.” The hoof pointed to the line. “There’ll be several towns along the road, so it shouldn’t be hard to follow.”

“And where are we?” Rarity asked.

“Somewhere around here.” Huntress lazily waved her hoof at a largely blank space on the map before folding the parchment and stuffing it back inside the saddlebag. “You don’t need to know where exactly. Better if you didn’t.”

“Excuse me? How am I supposed to get to this road without knowing where am I to begin with?” protested Rarity. “Or am I just supposed to wander westward until I hit civilization?”

Elder Woods placed his one remaining front hoof on Rarity’s shoulder as Huntress rolled her eyes. “Do understand, I cannot allow my village’s location known, not while the Squid Wizard’s influence is still so overgrown.”

Rarity frowned. It was a reasonable precaution, keeping the village’s position unmarked and hidden, it just would’ve been nice if their safety hadn’t been at her expense.

“Not to worry, my dear daughter will act as your guide.” He nodded toward Huntress. “She will not leave you until you’ve reached roadside. A better guide you could not ask. I assure you, on all I deem of worth, she is more than up to this task.”

So that was their relation. Rarity turned to Huntress who was hiding her prideful beam in reaction to Elder Woods’s endorsement rather poorly. The color of their coats were somewhat similar, both of them being shades of gray, but Huntress’s lack of distinctive stripes made all the difference; if she hadn’t heard Woods, Rarity doubted she’d have guessed that the two were related.

Huntress‘s expression hardened and became an icy glare as she came to notice the other mare’s stares. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Rarity looked to Elder Woods instead. “And you?” she asked. “Will you be traveling with us as well?”

There was something hopeful, even desperate, in her voice. Rarity had no reason to doubt Huntress’s abilities, that wasn’t the issue, it was just the matter of having to deal with the sour, ill-tempered mare alone over the course of what could potentially be a very long journey. Her heart sank as Elder Woods shook his head.

“I am needed here, as our village’s head. To leave so suddenly, for so long, I fear of the chaos that would spread,” he said, turning back to the village behind. A breeze blew by, and he sniffed at the air. The old zebra stiffened as Rarity also looked back and saw that out in the distance, ponies were starting to make their way out into the fields to work. “You should leave soon, but before you go, I have one last gift to bestow.”

Elder Woods held out something in his hoof, about the size and length of his forelimb. Most of the presented item was covered in linens, similar to the wrappings around the zebra’s eyes. “Careful, careful,” he warned as Rarity took the gift. She slowly unraveled the linen, starting from the end that the object was presented toward her, and revealed a polished wooden handle. The images of wolves and of eagles decorated the wood between indecipherable runes that seemed to shimmer in what little sunlight was available.

Huntress’s jaw dropped at the sight of the wooden hilt. “Father, you can’t—“

Elder Woods hushed the scarred mare as Rarity continued removing the wrappings. The last strips fell away from a shiny black blade extending out of the decorated wood. A piece of twine was wrapped tightly around the area where the wood handle transitioned to the black blade. More runes she couldn’t read ran down its length, flashing silver against a backdrop of black when brought into the light. There was something odd about the blade itself, something beyond the runes and the color. Something about its weight, about its uneven textures.

The blade wasn’t made of a traditional metal, Rarity quickly realized, but of some kind of stone. Obsidian she concluded upon further examination, a material she had experimented with but never found much use for, not when onyx or black jaspers could be used for the same effect while also being both more readily available and easier to utilize. The concept of using such brittle material for a dagger’s blade puzzled her. Why not steel or iron, like the weapons of the Squid Wizard’s guards or even the knife she had been provided with? Even Hearth Stead’s kitchen utensils were metallic.

Whatever the reasoning was behind the construction of this dagger, there was clearly some importance behind it, if the look of shock Huntress was shooting at Elder Woods were any indication.

“The path you walk is dangerous, keep that close,” Woods said, stepping back. “May the earth guide you through everything life throws.”

Rarity rewrapped the dagger and carefully placed it in the saddlebag pocket closer to her. The gift, in all honesty, made her feel less safe. In all her adventures, Rarity had never had to wield any sort of weapon, and the closest she ever got to even touching a dagger were kitchen knives and garden trowels. Always, her own wit and magic and her friends were enough, even when violence broke out. Well, two of those problem solving options weren’t available to her, and as special as the dagger may have been, she didn’t think it was going to be an adequate replacement.

“Thank you,” Rarity said, lowering her head in respect. She kept her misgivings to herself. “Perhaps, when your village is no longer threatened by my being there, we can see each other again.”

At this, Elder Woods cracked a small smile. “If that day comes, it would be an honor to have you back.” He returned the gesture, then turned Huntress. “Get going. And don’t worry about going through the forest.” The old zebra craned his neck upwards toward the clouds. “I’ll be sure to cover your tracks.”

Huntress looked up as well and frowned. With a sigh, she said, “Very well. I’ll should be back in a few days. Until then, take care.”

“And you as well,” replied the elderly zebra. He pressed his lips to the mare’s forehead. “Take care.”

For a moment, Huntress was still, then she turned to Rarity and motioned her head forward, in the direction they had been walking. “Let’s go.”

And with that curt command, Huntress continued on the rough dirt path, not bothering to wait for Rarity’s response. Rarity gave Elder Woods one final word of thanks before rushing after her impatient guide, following her down the trail that led between the farm fields. Huntress’s early start and hurried gait forced Rarity to quicken her own pace to a trot, and even then she still always a few steps behind.

“Is there any reason why we’re in such a hurry?” Rarity eventually asked.

“Tired already?” Huntress asked without missing a step. There was no mocking or teasing in the inquiry nor any sign of genuine concern, and Rarity wasn’t sure whether she would preferred this utter disinterest over being derided.

“Hardly,” Rarity said with a sniff. Appearances could be misleading, and though she carried herself with the daintiness of a proper lady, she was no stranger to physical exertion. As it so happened, being a member of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s personal circle of friends meant having plenty of opportunities to stretch those legs and run about. “You just seem awfully eager is all.”

Huntress grunted, and for a moment Rarity thought that was the end of that discussion before the mare continued by saying, “I want to get to the edge of the Bitwoods before we get caught in the rain.”

“Rain?” Rarity looked up into the sky. There were indeed clouds, many which seemed to be moving on their own oddly enough, but most of them were small and none were very dark. She couldn’t recall seeing any pegasi in the village, only earth ponies, but perhaps weather maintenance here was outsourced. But even if that was the case, Rarity would have still expected to see pegasi flying about, pushing clouds together and making their preparations, especially if Huntress was in such a rush to get to shelter. “Are you certain?”

Huntress suddenly slowed down. She turned back towards the village in the distance, now just some smoke trailing from the unseen chimneys, giving Rarity the opportunity to finally reach her side, and frowned. “So he insists,” she muttered with a shake of her head.

“I’m sorry?”

“Be grateful instead.” Huntress returned her attention back to the front. The dirt trail was gone, overtaken by grass as they stood before a vast empty prairie. A thick gathering of trees sat some distance away. “Elder Woods has done a lot for you, some would even say he’s gone too far. He seems to think you’re special.”

“And what about you? What do you think?”

Was confrontation wise? It was clear from her attitude that Huntress didn’t hold Rarity in high regard. Who knew how Huntress would react now that she was offered the chance to vent, but at least then, her opinions would be out and aired instead of being silently bottled up inside. It was even possible that after opening up and presenting her grievances, Huntress would become more approachable. Becoming friends with the mare was optimistic, but one didn’t spend all that time with the Princess of Friendship without becoming a bit of an idealist.

All Huntress had to offer in reply, however, was a noncommittal grunt. Instead of elaborating, she reached into the folds of her own cloak and pulled out her own sheathed dagger. Both hilt and scabbard were plain, completely without decoration, and unlike the weapon Elder Woods had gifted Rarity, there was a cross-guard running perpendicular through the handle.

“Here,” she said, holding the dagger out toward Rarity. At least she had the decency to present it handle first. “Give me the one Elder Woods gave you. I’m not sure what he was thinking, you’d just hurt yourself when you try to use it.”

Part of Rarity protested at the suggestion, a rather childish part that kicked and screamed at the very possibility of having something of theirs being taken away. It was hers, Elder Woods gave it too her! Huntress was just jealous it went to Rarity instead of her, and now she want to offer such a dull alternative as a trade? That part of Rarity roared out angrily.

It was a very small part of her, and the roar was more of a kitten’s mewl than the proper growl of a beast that was quickly drowned out as the rest of Rarity presented their arguments in swift succession. Elder Woods’s dagger had felt heavy in her hooves, and it still worried her that the sharp point parts were made of such an easily breakable material. And then there was Rarity’s utter lack of experience. Huntress was right, Elder Woods’s gift was as much, no, more of a danger to Rarity than to any aggressor she’d have to defend herself against.

She took great care in retrieving the dagger from the saddlebags. When it was out and presented to Huntress, the mare seemed to hesitate despite this trade being her idea, if only for a couple of seconds. Once it was safely secured in her grasp, Huntress unwrapped the handle of the obsidian dagger and stuffed it under her cloak as Rarity took the time to examine her new dagger. She slide it out of the scabbard.

When it came to the art of metalworking, Rarity knew very little, and her ability to appraise martial implements may have been even less than that. What exactly could she say? The sharp and pointy end was sharp and pointy, and the handle fit comfortably in her hoof. It certainly felt more balanced than the dagger Elder Woods had given her. Both edges of the blade were sharp, Rarity noted, and if the old adage about swords and dual edges was applicable in this case, she’d need to take extra care when putting the weapon to use.

It disturbed her that she had said ‘when’ in her thoughts, not “if,’ as if she believed that a scenario where she would have to wield such a weapon was inevitable. With that worrisome thought in mind, Rarity started to place her new dagger back into her bags, but Huntress stopped her.

“There’s a pocket in your cloak,” she said. “Keep it there.”

It was less of a suggestion and more of a command. Rarity found the pocket and slipped the sheathed dagger into the cloak. It pressed uncomfortably against her body, constantly reminding her of its presence.

As she readjusted her cloak and her saddlebags, a low rumble shook the skies above. Rarity looked up and watched the clouds congregate and darken, and yet there wasn’t a single pegasus pony up there with them. Another wave of thunder rolled by, and the bottoms of the clouds flashed brightly. Huntress clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“We’ve wasted too much time,” she said. “Pick up the pace.”

Rarity broke into a trot after Huntress who again took off without bothering to wait. The trot gradually became a run as the two hurried through the grasslands. Raindrops started to fall, and the winds began to pick up in strength. The droplets grew in size and in number, and the winds threw them into Rarity’s face with a force that stung her cheeks. Several steps ahead of her, Huntress had somehow managed to throw the hood of her cloak over her head without slowing down, a feat Rarity wasn’t sure she wanted to attempt, not if it meant potentially having to spend more time in this growing storm.

The trees were getting larger as they got closer. At last, just as the downpour began in earnest, the two mares reached the edge of the forest and tried to hide under the leafy canopy. The cover here was relatively thin, simply reducing the amount of rain hitting them rather than blocking the precipitation completely.

“Are we not going further?” Rarity asked when Huntress found spot under one of the nearby trees to rest. “Surely there’s more shelter deeper in the forest where there are larger trees.”

“Best not go too deep inside if you don’t have to,” Huntress answered, shaking her head. “Bitwood might not be the biggest or most dangerous forest in Spiketopia, especially since those heroes took care of the werewolf problem awhile back, but you can still get lost pretty easily if you’re not careful, and the regular wolves and bears can still put up a heck of a fight. Also, here I can watch the storm. I’ll need to know it stops raining.”

Rarity followed Huntress’s gaze out into the open prairie. Their current position did give them a good view of the rainstorm, and though the thicker canopy of the forest’s interior would’ve provide more cover, it would have also prevented them from seeing the sky and the storm’s progression. She couldn’t disagree with the rest of rationale behind Huntress’s decision either, her own personal experiences with the Everfree Forest speaking out in favor for it.

But as much as Rarity understood the logic, she could not bring herself to like it. Her mane was already messy, and now it was soaking wet, and any semblance to her signature coiffure was gone. Every time part of it brushed against her neck whether from a stray breeze or from just moving her head, she shivered as it left behind a cold, damp spot, and without the proper tools, none of which were in her saddlebags, an unfortunate lapse in foresight on Elder Woods’s part, Rarity had no way to control her mane’s appearance when it dried. She shuddered at the imagined monstrosities her pride and joy would become once the sun came out.

At least the cloak did its job. Whatever material it was made of seemed somewhat waterproof and kept most of her body dry and insulated, providing her a degree of protection from both rain and wind.

Rarity took a seat in the driest spot she could find. The howls of the wind and the roars of thunder were getting louder. She flinched as the world went white for a moment, and thunder rolled in seconds later. “Make yourself comfortable,” Huntress said. Her bow was in her hooves and now strung, and every now and again, she would look away from the storm and pull at the string, testing its elasticity and wiping away any moisture. “Could be up to an hour before it lets up.”

“Are sudden storms like this common?” asked Rarity.

“No,” Huntress said. “Elder Woods doesn’t tend to abuse his druidic abilities like this, and even when he does it’s for an emergency.” She snorted. “Like I said, he seems to think you’re special.”

It took Rarity a little time to apprehend Huntress’s words and a little longer to fully grasp the implication. “Are you saying this is his doing?” she exclaimed, pointing to the storm above. “How?”

Huntress shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you the specifics, but I know it isn’t done easily, not for him.“

Not done easily? Rarity felt that Huntress was downplaying the difficult of such a task. Weather maintenance was a delicate job that required the deftest touch and the keenest eye, which is why it was normally left to pegasus ponies who were already accustomed with working in the sky and with clouds. Even unicorns with all their magic were limited in weather manipulation beyond small patches of sky, and more often than not such attempts ended in disaster.

Was this an ability exclusive to zebras? The only zebra she could claim familiarity with was Zecora, and she had never her demonstrate any sign of such powers. Then again, even after all these years, the striped hermit was still largely a mystery to her, sharing little of her past and of her homeland and culture. Perhaps there was more to her than just somepony to visit when in need of a curative.

“The storm will cover up any tracks we might have left behind,” Huntress continued. “If it weren’t for that, we’d have to go through the forest a couple of times to throw off any pursuers.”

“Is that really such an issue?” Rarity questioned.

“If you told us the truth, and Elder Woods believes you, then you just escaped from the Squid Wizard’s stronghold. Princess Shmarity or not, he’ll want you back and fast, and he has the resources to make that happen.” Huntress looked away from the storm and turned to Rarity. “It’s why we needed you to leave as soon as possible.”

“I see.”

“Hm.” Huntress turn her attention to her bow. “You’ve heard enough apologizes. I won’t bother adding mine.”

It took Rarity a couple of moments to unravel the meaning behind Huntress’s rudeness. It was quite the roundabout way of saying she was at least a little sorry, but with the impression the stubborn grump of a mare left her, Rarity couldn’t think of a more fitting way of her saying so.

“Thank you?” she offered. Huntress simply brushed her off with a grunt. She provided no additional words, and Rarity lost any desire to urge more out of of her. She couldn’t think of any relevant conversation starters anyways, and discussing the weather further felt like a moot point. If it weren’t for the voices of the storm, the howls of the wind, the pitter-patter of the rain, the crashes of thunder, they would have sat there in silence.

Without any other stimulating means, Rarity let her mind wander. She marveled at the storm and the mysterious power behind it. She wondered how Farm Right and his family were doing, how they were coping with the storm. She hoped they managed to find Harvest before the rain started to fall. Knowing that the storm had been been for her benefit, Rarity hoped the sudden change in weather hadn’t caused too much of an interruption to the village’s routine.

Her legs were starting to grow restless. As Rarity shifted in the grass into a more comfortable position, the dagger in her pocket dug into her chest, forcing her to adjust her cloak. Her hoof brushed against something cold, and she looked down to find that the silver symbol of the Fey had slipped out. She quickly shoved back into her cloak and glanced over to Huntress who had her attention drawn to the stormy sky once more.

Would she recognize the symbol, Rarity wondered. Perhaps Huntress knew something about the being calling themselves the Queen of Fey, maybe even confirming what her supposed benefactor had said or elaborating on the information she had been provided, like what exactly was in the south. Elder Woods may have been more knowledgeable on the subject, and Rarity regretted not asking him when she had the chance.

And then there were the questions about her current journey. What kind of city was Baldursgait? Was the road there well traveled, and should she expect to meet other travelers? Were there any specific settlements along the way she should visit? Avoid?

“Alright,” Huntress suddenly announced, interrupting Rarity’s thoughts. She stood up. “Time to go.”

Rarity looked up, and to her surprise, the skies were beginning to clear. The dark storm clouds were dispersing as the winds quieted and lost strength. The downpour was now only a little more than a drizzle. She could even see a bit of sun. How long had Rarity sat there, lost in her thoughts?

“Something wrong?”

“No,” Rarity finally said. She got up as well and brushed off the loose grass and dirt. “Was that really an hour?”

“Just about,” Huntress said. “Maybe a couple minutes less. It can be easy to lose track of time if you’re not careful. You need to pay more attention.”

To a mare that prided herself for her attentiveness, Huntress’s advice stung more than Rarity cared to admit. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rarity said steadily.

Huntress just nodded before turning away and marching onward. Rarity followed after her with her head full of questions. Hopefully, her guide wasn’t expecting the rest of their journey to continue in silence.

8. Edicts of Neutrality

Edicts of Neutrality

Rarity’s attempts to converse with Huntress as they walked along the edge of the forest had been less informative than she had hoped. Either it was her guide’s knowledge of the subject or her willingness to share such knowledge that was lacking, which made most of her answers to Rarity’s questions frustratingly dissatisfying. She knew nothing of the southern lands and questioned why Rarity would even consider going to that region. Rarity decided to keep her reasons to herself, a decision she felt reaffirmed after Huntress had little to say in regards to the Fey. Huntress had made mention of fables known to every foal of this land and said that her father had personally dealt with such beings on very rare occasions but did not elaborate on either point.

“If you want to hear a fairytale so badly, wait until bedtime,” she had finally snapped after Rarity’s continual insistence.

“Well, there’s no need to get snippy. I was simply curious.”

“Hm.” And that had been the last word before the beginning of a blissful era of peace and silence, which lasted only about a couple of minutes once Rarity continued with her questioning.

At least Huntress knew more about her destination. Though she had never been to Baldursgait herself, the port city’s less than stellar reputation preceded it. It was a home to mercenaries, a sanctuary to smugglers and pirates, a den to criminal organizations and vigilante groups. The gathering of such dangerous individuals as well as having one of the regional adventurers’ league headquarters made Baldursgait an attractive place to everyone looking for a way to make some quick coin and didn’t mind getting a little dirty and to those with the economic shrewdness to capitalize on such a market. In Rarity’s case, it was a place to lay low.

“Baldursgait doesn’t exactly sound very, inviting.”

“It’s not,” Huntress agreed. “But it’s also one of the last big cities that hasn’t been destroyed by the Squid Wizard’s forces. Kind of hard to conquer a city when just about every inhabitant can swing a blade or throw a fireball. You’ll be safe from the Squid Wizard at least.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Probably.”

“Probably?” Rarity repeated, slowing to a stop.

“Just keep your identity, or your supposed identity, a secret,” Huntress said. “I wouldn’t put it past a pack of thugs and pirates to sell you out the second they smelled a hint of a reward. Heck, I’m surprised no one there has tried selling themselves to the Squid Wizard’s service.” She shook her head. “So just stay low and don’t draw attention to yourself, and the worst you’ll need to worry about are your new neighbors.”

“Well, do you have any advice on surviving the inhabitants of Baldursgait?”

Huntress shrugged. “Keep your head down, watch your purse, don’t piss off the wrong individuals. Use your common sense.” She slowed to think for a moment, giving Rarity some time to catch up to her. “You might be able to find some individuals still loyal to the royal family, maybe at the adventurers’ league, but that’s a huge maybe. Be smart with your trust. Probably better not to trust anyone there. Like I said, use your common sense.”

The more she heard about the place, the more discouraged Rarity felt about going to Baldursgait, but it wasn’t like she had any real alternatives. “And the road to Baldursgait, the one on the map,” she said, changing the subject, “what can you tell me about that?”

Huntress let out a tired sigh. “It’s a road. Dirt. Long. Used to be part of a big trade route, pretty much abandoned ever since the Squid Wizard came to power. It’s probably not too dangerous during the day, but you don’t want to be traveling down it when it gets dark. There should be plenty of towns along the way that night shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I remember there being a few labeled on the map. Any of them worth mentioning?” Rarity inquired.

“Well, some probably no longer exist, now that the trade route’s gone. The map’s based on Elder Woods’s memories, and, well, neither of us have kept up with the ongoings of those settlements in a good while,” admitted Huntress. “Bakersfield’s gone, we know that much at least.” Her frown deepened as her expression became grim. “I saw what was left of it myself.”

“Bakersfield.” Rarity considered taking the time to pull out her map. How easy it would have been to rummage through those saddlebags for it with magic without having to stop. She wondered if she’d ever grow accustomed to the lack of her horn. She certainly hoped not. “What happened?”

“Couldn’t say. We only saw the aftermath, and there weren’t any witnesses, but the Squid Wizard’s probably a safe assumption,” Huntress said. “Anyways, even if they are abandoned, the buildings will still be around so there should be plenty of shelter when night falls. Speaking of which.” She looked up to the sky and scowled.

Rarity followed Huntress’s gaze, trying to see what her guide found so distressing. The blue skies were being painted in shades of red and orange as the sun slowly descended toward a distant horizon. All in all, a very picturesque sunset. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and she couldn’t see anything that would warrant such a strong expression of dislike. Or did Huntress just dislike pretty things? “Is something wrong?” Rarity asked.

“We only have maybe an hour of daylight left, and we’ve barely made any progress today,” Huntress grumbled. “Come on, pick up the pace.”

And with that, she was off, again without any additional consideration for the pony she was supposed to be escorting. Rarity hurried behind, breaking into a brisk trot that quickly sped up into a run as she struggled to keep up. Patches of tall grass growing along the edge of the forest grabbed and clung to her legs as she dashed through them. A couple of such obstacles barely slowed her, but as time passed and she encountered more and more of these spots of overgrown shrubs and sod, she felt her strength slowly wane and her chest gradually tighten as her lungs grew strained from effort. And they were so numerous to the point where trying to run around the grassy patches would have spent just as much energy as forcing her way through them.

Huntress, meanwhile, seemed to glide through those spots effortlessly, passing through the grass as if it wasn’t there. It didn’t even appear like she was running, and yet, despite Rarity’s best efforts, the distance between her and Rarity was growing, and only when Rarity called out did it shrink even a little.

The skies darkened. The air chilled. Rarity tried to keep her guide in sight, but even as her eyes slowly adjusted to the decrease in light, Huntress seemed to melt into the dark background. She squinted, struggling to keep track of an equine silhouette, of the fluttering of Huntress’s cloak, of the shuffling of grass. Rarity’s eyes were becoming heavy, and she allowed them a moment’s rest, just a quick blink, and in that short quarter of a second, Huntress vanished.

Panic spurred her forward into a sprint. She cried out Huntress’s name, begging her to slow down. Something grabbed hold of her, and she screamed, flailing her limbs at her unseen assailant. Rarity’s hoof struck something hard, and there was a pained grunt. She directed a blow at the source of sound, but something blocked it and held it still.

“Knock it off,” hissed Huntress. Rarity opened her eyes and found herself right before her glowering guide. Huntress released Rarity and rubbed her jaw, as bruised as Rarity’s hoof.

“Er, sorry.”

“Shh!” Huntress raised a hoof to her lips. Immediately, Rarity clamped her mouth shut. She turned around, looking in the same direction as Huntress had been, but all she could see were the fading shadows of grass stalks and the first of the fireflies.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“You’re too loud,” Huntress responded in a low voice before turning away and moving toward the forest’s initial row of trees. “All that screaming’s bound to have attracted attention.”

For a moment, Rarity just stood there, fuming. “Excuse me?” she exclaimed, not bothering to control her volume.

Huntress stopped and groaned. “Keep it down.”

“No. I am not going to take this any longer.” Rarity stomped over to Huntress and stood in her way. “I’ve dealt with rude ponies before, with the boorish and the sleazy and the socially incompetent. But you! I don’t think I’ve ever met a more inconsiderate pony, especially not one who’s supposed to be helping me.“

“What are you talking about?” Even in the dark, Rarity could see Huntress’s piercing glare to which she fired back with one of her own. “I’ve been more than accommodating, answering all your questions, keeping you safe.”

“You left me behind! You disappeared on me only seconds ago!”

“All I did was stop!” Huntress shouted back, wincing at her own raised voice. She took in a breath to calm herself and at a lower volume said, “You’re the one who ran forward recklessly, and when I tried to keep you from getting lost in the dark, what do I get? A hoof to the face.”

“You could have said something! A warning would’ve been wonderful, but no, apparently that would be too much. Instead, you just decide take off and stop without bothering to check if the pony following you is ready. I don’t know what you would call that sort of action, but from where I’m from, that’s most definitely inconsiderate.”

Huntress’s mouth opened. Her hoof was raised and pointed at Rarity. It shook as Rarity tried to make sense of the sputtering sounds that Huntress was making. The mare slammed her hoof down and, with her lips pursed tightly, she stomped past Rarity. She made it a few steps forward before coming to a stop. Huntress’s shoulders sagged, and she sighed.

“We need to make camp for the night,” she said, pointing to the dark outline of trees at the edge of the forest. “Best if we stay out of the open.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Rarity started to march toward Huntress. “We’re not done discussing this matter.”

“I’m done discussing this matter,” Huntress said. “Like I said, you’re going to draw attention to us if you keep making so much noise.”

“Attention from what? There’s nopony here.”

“Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they can’t see you. Are you ready?”

Rarity had just arrived at Huntress’s side with a mouth full of arguments prepared to spring off her tongue and cut through whatever other excuses the mare had. The sudden question, however, caught her off guard. “What?”

Huntress shot Rarity a sideways glance. “Are you ready to move?” she asked, again motioning to the forest.

Rarity’s temper flared, setting aflame the shackles of eloquence and etiquette that kept it in check. Now is the time she decides to be considerate? How dare she, after everything she put her through, and her reaction is to mock her with this sudden display of thoughtfulness, to make parody of Rarity’s utterly justifiable grievances? Every snarky comment and barbed word she had in her mouth, spurred by her fury, fought for passage past her lips to be the first blow in a righteous verbal crusade.

The anger burned out as quickly as it exploded, leaving Rarity mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. All those arguments building up inside spilled out as a single long sigh as she re-evaluated Huntress’s surprising show of tact. There was nothing in Huntress’s tone or what Rarity could see of her body language that suggested of any malice intent. If anything, the mare just appeared tired and sick of arguing and almost even a little remorseful. Had she actually understood Rarity’s position, maybe even, dare she assume, agree with her? It certainly seemed more likely that this gesture was to demonstrate that she could change and show more consideration than a way to mock Rarity’s concerns. It was probably the closest she was going to get to an apology from the perpetually grumpy mare.

“Yes, I am ready,” Rarity said. “Thank you,” she added with a small smile she wasn’t sure Huntress could see.

Huntress simply nodded and started toward the tree line. She still moved at a rather quick pace, but at least she had waited for Rarity before marching off. Given that Rarity hadn’t gotten very far in her panicked state before Huntress successful caught up to her, it didn’t take long before they returned to the forest’s edge and walked past the first row of trees.

“This is far enough,” Huntress declared, coming to a stop. She removed the bundles from her back and set them against the trunk of a nearby tree, before rummaging through the pockets of her saddlebags. “Get started on gathering fuel for a fire. There should be enough around here for a small one.” She paused and lifted her head from her bags. “Actually, I‘ll work on the fire. You can get the beddings ready.”

“I can handle finding some dried twigs and leaves, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rarity declared. It was a tad snippety, she had to admit, but Huntress’s condescension was sapping what good will she had earned just moments prior. “This isn’t my first time roughing it out.”

“Good to hear.” Huntress returned to her bags and removed a spool of string and, oddly enough, a number of bells that jingled as she moved. “I’ll be within earshot, so yell if anything comes up.”

Rarity watched as the forest appeared to swallow up Huntress, leaving her alone in the dark as the last of the daylight left with the sun, giving way to evening. Even with her traveling cloak on, Rarity shivered from the cold night air. Better get working on that fire, she thought to herself.

Now the gathering of fire starting materials was normally left to Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo whenever Rainbow, Rarity, and Applejack took their respective little sisters and little sister figures on their yearly Big Sister-Little Sister camping trips to Winsome Falls. Coincidentally, Rarity and Sweetie Belle were the ones in charge of getting all the tents and beddings ready. Still, Rarity knew what to look for, Applejack had made sure to drill the basics of every camping skill into all of their skulls after the fifteenth accident, and though it took some time to get past having to dig through the dirt with her bare hooves, she eventually had a sizable pile of dead branches, dehydrated brambles, shredded bark, and crisp brown leaves, all carefully arranged within a circle of stones.

Now came the tricky part, generating the initial spark. Rarity removed the provided tinderbox from its pocket and stared at the separate pieces that fell out of the case. She had just assumed, rather erroneously, that a tinderbox was simply an outdoorsy way of saying matchbox.

She turned and flipped the parts around, looking for instructions or symbols, anything that could be used as a clue to how this thing operated, but the darkness made it hard to see much. However, while her sight failed to discover anything, her hooves felt and found several light scratch marks on a slab of dark metal almost invisible in the night.

“Not done yet?”

Rarity looked up. She could barely make Huntress out of her surroundings as she approached. Huntress turned her gaze down to the gathered materials, then to the metal parts in Rarity’s hooves. She couldn’t see it past the shadows that hid most of Huntress’s face, but Rarity knew, somehow, that one of Huntress’s eyebrows was being raised, and she could all but hear it that patronizingly incredulous look.

“I, er, no,” Rarity said, lowering her hooves. “Sorry.”

Huntress sighed. “Give it here. I thought you said you’ve done this before.”

“I have.” Rarity placed the parts into Huntress’s extended hoof. “Made a campfire, I mean, just not with whatever this is.”

Now that she was close, Rarity could easily see the raised brow. “Sure. Well come here and see if you can pick something up.”

The two mares made their way to the ring of rocks. There was a hum, of approval Rarity hoped, from Huntress as she knelt over the pile of dried plant matter. Rarity watched Huntress press the iron piece against the black slab and scrap it across the surface towards the tinder. Sparks flew from the slab as she did so, brightening the small area they occupied in the air shortly before they went out. Huntress repeated the motion, creating more and more sparks over Rarity’s sticks and leaves. Most died before they even made it to the ground, but eventually, the sparks lit the fuel, and after a little bit of fanning, a modest flame sat within the stone ring.

“That’s all there is to it,” Huntress said, putting the two parts back into their case before returning it to Rarity. “Now help me with the bed rolls.”

There wasn’t much to set up, just a couple of simplistic sleep bags and some blankets, and in just a short while, everything was rolled out and readied just close enough to the campfire for warmth while maintaining a safe distance. There were no tents or any other form of shelter, Rarity noted, and when inquired, Huntress explained that that had been deliberate.

“Too cumbersome,” she had said. “We’re trying to travel light here, and you won’t need anything like that once you’ve reach the road and all its towns. Until then, this is all you’ll need.” Huntress gestured to the fire. “It’ll keep you warm and scare off the wildlife,” she elaborated when Rarity gave her an unimpressed look. “Most of it, anyways.”

“Most?” It was becoming something of a habit, Huntress adding a quantifier and Rarity repeating it worriedly.

“Some are desperate. Some simply don’t follow the laws of nature. We have other ways of keeping them away.” Huntress patted the bow beside her. It was strung, Rarity noticed, and an arrow was already nocked and in place. “It won’t be a problem once you’re on the road and as long as you reach a town before dark, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“If you say so,” Rarity said. She sat on a blanket and let herself enjoy the heat of flames as she stifled a yawn. She removed her saddlebags and placed them to side before digging through them and taking out the bag of travel mix. The porridge from this morning was nothing more than a distant memory, and she couldn’t recall if she had eaten anything else since.

“Save that for the trip on the road,” Huntress suddenly called out from her side of the campfire. From her own bags she pulled out a small stem and muttered something under her breath. “Here, catch.”

Something flew from Huntress’s hoof and bounced against Rarity’s cheek. It fell to the ground, rolling in the dust between her forelimbs. Rarity picked it up and brushed off the dust. It was a plump, red berry, she discovered. Just the one, hardly what anypony would consider a mouthful, let alone a meal. Rarity watched Huntress pop in a berry of her own before returning the stem, now suddenly colored with dots of red, back into her pack.

“What?” Huntress said, noticing Rarity’s attention.

“It’s ah, well, it’s nothing really. Just, I’m not entirely familiar with this sort of berry.” It was a deflection, yes, but not a lie. The color was that of a strawberry or a ripe raspberry, but it was round and smooth, like a blueberry only maybe twice as large.

“Well you eat it like any other fruit, nothing complicated there,” said Huntress between chews.

“Right.” Rarity sighed. Try as she might, she didn’t think there was going to be a more polite, less direct way of saying this. “Is this going to be enough? It’s just, well, it’s just one berry.”

“If you really, really want more, I can give me another, but that one’s more than plenty.”

Rarity looked down at the berry in her hoof. At the sight of such a small morsel, she struggled with Huntress’s ridiculous claim. And yet, as Rarity turned back to face the other mare, it didn’t look like Huntress had eaten anything else after swallowing her berry.

It didn’t matter to her stomach. The selfish organ begged and pleaded and threw tantrums with each delay Rarity made. The portion didn’t matter, the berry was food, and the stomach was empty. Even the matter of it having fallen in the dirt didn’t really mean much to her stomach, despite Rarity’s own protests. She, at the very least, had the sense to wash the Berry’s skin with some water from her canteen before putting it into her mouth.

The berry was much less juicy than Rarity had anticipated, and the innards were crunchier than expected. It was like eating a miniature apple and tasted like one too, with the sweet flavor of a honeycrisp. It only took a couple of chews before her teeth turned the berry into little more than mash, and most of it was swallowed without any exerted assistance from Rarity.

Her stomach was silenced almost immediately. The discomfort of hunger was gone, leaving Rarity with the odd sense of satisfaction, as if that single berry had been an entire fruit salad. With a muffin. And a side of soup.

The berry had also left her mouth dry and sticky. “Still need another?” Huntress asked as Rarity washed it down with some water.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Huntress nodded and returned to the campfire, occasionally throwing in a leaf or branch or prodding at the burning remains. Rarity, meanwhile, shifted until she found a more tolerable spot on the forest floor, a difficult task even with the soft layers between her delicate body and the hard ground.

“So,” Rarity said after a couple of long, silent minutes. Huntress didn’t respond, so Rarity tried again with another, “So.”

“More questions?” Huntress said with a sigh. “What is it now?”

“Nothing really. I just thought, now that we have a moment to relax, we might as well get to know each other a little better.”

It was a completely reasonable idea, nothing wrong with a little bit of socialization after a long day, at least Rarity thought so until she saw the look Huntress was giving her. “What?”

“You know, talking. Having a conversation. That sort of thing. I mean, you already know my story. Well, as much as I know of it in any case,” Rarity amended with a dismissive wave. “But I don’t know anything about you, and if we’re to be traveling with each other, I’d like that to change.”

Huntress frowned. “Elder Woods told you that I would be a good guide. What else would you need to know?”

“Well, it’s not that I’d need to know per se,” Rarity said, doing her best not to appear discouraged, “just that it would be nice to know a little more about you. Like, for example, how did you become such a good guide? Did Elder Woods teach you all those survival skills?”

“My mother.”

“Ah.” Rarity waited for an elaboration that never came. “Well, she must have—“

“My late mother.”

“Oh,” was all Rarity could think of saying as she mentally kicked herself.

“Hm.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything difficult.” Rarity hesitated, mulling over her choice of words. Comforting had always been more of Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy’s speciality, their innate talents and nature making them better suited for sympathetic gestures, but Huntress didn’t seem the type to accept hugs easily nor did she seem very interested in sharing her feelings.

“It’s fine. That was some time ago.” There was a small, sad smirk, almost wistful, on Huntress’s face that quickly faded. “We should be reaching the main road tomorrow, and we’ll be parting ways then, so there’s no need to, um, get to know each other.”

She opened up her sleeping bag and slipped inside. “It’s getting late,” she said, turning her back to Rarity. “Get some sleep.”

With nothing else to do, their sad little conversation having gone nowhere, Rarity followed suit. She huddled under the provided coverings and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of their tiny campfire before eventually falling asleep.

10. The Battle of Elmwood

The Battle of Elmwood

Hoofsteps from behind called for her attention. Rarity turned and walked back to the front of the cage just as their guard tossed a canteen inside. “There,” he growled before slumping down against the cage. “Now quit your whining.”

The mare reached the water first, but Rarity gestured for her to wait. With a look of uncertainty, the mare gave the canteen to Rarity who seemed to struggle loudly with the cap. “Well?” she demanded.

The guard groaned and glanced up. “Well what?” He let out another groan when Rarity held out the canteen. Muttering curses under his breath, he loosened the cap and all but threw the container at her.

“Thank you,” Rarity said, ignoring the violent act. She brought the water up to her snout and wrinkled her nose. “Where’s the lemon?”

The guard made a sound that was something along the lines of an anguished sob and a reactionary howl of pain. His entire face was elongated as he crushed his head with his hooves, and those yellowed teeth of his were bared as he gnashed at the air.

With a prolonged sigh, Rarity gave the canteen over to the mare next to her and nodded. The mare took the water to the shaking stallion in the corner and held it to his lips as Rarity turned to their beleaguered sentry. “Well, I suppose that will have to do. I have to say, however, this has all been very disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” The stallion scoffed and turned away. “I’ll show you disappointing. Darn lousy, good for nothing, no breaks, in the cold,” he muttered, more to himself than to anypony directly. Again, his forelegs were crossed and pressed against his chest as he started to pout. “Standing here all night, lousy scheduling, only four hours my ass.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What now?” the guard demanded, pressing his forehead into the center of his hoof.

“Well, putting aside your use of racially charged vulgarity in front of an impressionable child,” Rarity began, “I couldn’t help but notice that you do seem awfully tired. Those rings around your eyes, they’re hideous. And don’t get me started on your complexion. Have you really been up all night? Because it certainly shows.”

“Maybe I have been,” the scrawny stallion grumbled. “Not like I had much of a choice. Why do you care anyways?”

“Well, it would explain your less than stellar service, and as such, I suppose I can excuse some of that. Though I must say, it is rather odd.” Rarity hummed as she propped a hoof under her chin. “From what I’ve seen, your organization doesn’t appear to be suffering from a lack in horsepower. There were quite a number of you earlier. Couldn’t one of your comrades have acted as our guard while you took a break?”

Their guard snorted. “Yeah, so you’d think. So I’d think too, cause that’s what I was promised. Somepony was supposed to come and replace me last night, that’s what I was told, but did anypony show? No, and when I tried to complain, I got shouted at for—“ His own timely yawn interrupted him. “—leaving my post. Lousy bunch of horse apples.”

“How horrible.” Rarity shook her head. “The way you’ve been treated by your own friends is completely, utterly appalling.”

“Friends? Ha!” The stallion let out a bark of laughter. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Well whatever you call yourselves, this isn’t right,” Rarity said. “After everything you’ve already done for this ungrateful group, the least you deserve is some rest.”

“Oh believe you me, missy, I know that, but what can you do?” He sighed and gave a little shrug. “I’m stuck here, and there’s nopony coming to get me.”

“Then, if nopony will give you a break, I say you should seize one yourself.” Rarity clapped her front hooves together. “Yes, that’s it! Go and march into your bed and sleep those hours you’ve earn, and if anypony questions you, you let them know that you’re just taking what you were promised.”

“Heh, yeah right.” The guard rolled his eyes, but only after they had wistfully wandered toward the collection of tents. “I mean, what would the boss say if he found out?”

“That you are a stallion who knows how to take initiative and to stand up for himself and isn’t afraid to seize what he wants like a true bandit?” Rarity offered. “If I was your leader and I saw one of my subordinates taking charge like that, I’d have made them my second-in-command in a heartbeat.”

“You think so? I don’t know.”

“Look, I’ve only been aquatinted with your leader for a short while, but it’s obvious that he respects strength, and this is a perfect opportunity to show him just how strong—“ Rarity jabbed her hoof directly at the center of the thin stallion’s chest. “—you are. This is your chance to rise up in the ranks. You don’t want to be stuck with guard duty your entire plundering career, do you?”

“Well, I mean, no,” the guard said quietly, kicking at the dirt. “But I can’t just leave you all here unguarded.”

“Oh, pft.” Rarity waved dismissively. “Why not? We’re stuck in a cage, with no means out or anywhere to go. Do you honestly think anything is going to happen if you just took your eyes off of us for an hour? Think of what you have to gain. Are you really going to let this opportunity slip away just so you can keep doing a job you hate?”

“No. No, you’re right!” The guard jumped up to his hooves and stuck out his chest. “I’m going to show the boss and everypony else that I’m not going to be walked over. I’m no doormat. I’ll show them. Yeah, yeah! I’m taking my break, and I’m taking it now, and nopony, oh yeah, nopony is going to stop me!”

The little filly joined Rarity in giving their guard a small cheer as he marched off with his head held high and his lanky legs skipping every fourth or so step. When he had disappeared into one of the tents, Rarity hurried to the back of the cage and looked over the knots holding the bars together.

“What was that about?” the mare whispered. “What are you trying to do?”

“Darling, what does it look like I’m doing?” Rarity asked as she grabbed a loose end of rope with her mouth and pulled while her hooves fumbled with the knot. “Somepony please keep an eye out and let me know when another bandit walks by.”

“Wait, you’re—“

“Escaping, yes.” Rarity released the rope and glared at the binding she had been struggling with. The knot had been far more sophisticated than she had imagined, and her attempts to undo it by hoof were only making it tighter. Untying the rope with magic would have taken her mere seconds, and that’s if she handicapped herself by closing her eyes. She’d have even just settled for the horn itself as a means of filing through the rope and bypassing the knot entirely.

Well, she didn’t have her horn, but the dagger in her cloak would work just as well, if not better. Rarity carefully removed the weapon from the inner pocket and its sheath and immediately applied the blade to the bindings. A more serrated edge would have been preferable, but after a few slices, the rope came apart. The bar wobbled, and after Rarity had cut through the second knot, it dropped to the ground with a soft thud.

Rarity repeated the act until two more bars joined the first in the grass. There was now a large enough gap for a grown pony to get through without much difficulty, which after a moment of silent deliberation, Rarity concluded would suffice. “Come on then,” she whispered to her fellow captives. “Time to go.”

The filly went first, after she recognized that the distance she’d have to jump down to reach the ground wasn’t as high as it appeared. Then it was Rarity’s turn, and once she was safely out of the cage, Rarity helped the mare in moving the hurt stallion through. He had to lean against one of them for support, but at least he could stand and walk.

The mare was the last one out, and once her hooves touched the ground, they hurried off into the woods as fast as the stallion’s injuries would allow, with the role of leader thrusted upon Rarity as the others followed her. Not that she had a direction in mind. For now, they just needed to get some distance between them and the bandits, then they could figure out where to go.

It wasn’t the most thoughtful plan, Rarity had to admitted, but getting away from those murderous ruffians was her top priority, even if it meant the risk of being lost in some unfamiliar forest. Hopefully, her new companions knew their way around here better than she did.

The stallion stumbling behind suddenly started to cough and stutter. “Wait,” the mare supporting him called out. “We need a moment, please.”

Rarity turned back and frowned. The bandit camp was still in view. They didn’t have a moment to rest, not when in that single moment they could be seen and recaptured. Rarity couldn’t imagine such a display of insolence would go unpunished nor was she in any mood to find out what cruelties the bandits had in store. “We don’t have much time,” she said, her voice hushed just in case. “Anypony could walk by and notice the empty cage.”

“I’m not leaving him behind,” the mare declared as the older pony continued to wheeze. The filly seemed to bounce between her family and Rarity before rushing to her father’s side.

Rarity sighed. “Very well then.” She made her way to the family of three and offered her shoulder. “If we both support him, we might be able to carry him.”

The mare just stared, wasting precious seconds. Rarity’s patience thinned under the weight of her growing panic, and she snapped with a sharp, “Hurry!”

“R-right.” The mare moved and hobbled the coughing stallion over to Rarity. “I, this is, you’ve, thank you,” she managed to sputter as she draped one of the stallion’s forelimbs over Rarity’s shoulders.

They had only taken a couple of steps when the stallion moaned and started to thrash, forcing them to stop. He removed himself from the two mares and pushed away any attempts to get him back into position. “No, can’t go,” he mumbled. “Not yet. Need. Our wares.”

“Father, please,” the mare pleaded. “We can start over. Let’s just go.”

“No!” he screamed, brushing away the mare’s hoof. Without any additional warning, the stallion suddenly broke into a gallop, charging back toward the camp at a speed that ignored his age, his injuries, and the danger of his apparent destination.

The mare had recovered from her stunned state first, and she rushed after him, crying and pleading for him to stop. The filly, her eyes wide, had turned to her sister for instruction, and when the mare had ran off, the filly turned to Rarity.

Rarity’s own mind raced as it struggled to analyze the sudden developments. Split seconds were all she had, forcing her to decide on a split second decision. “Wait here,” she ordered the filly before running after the other two. They had a bit of a head start, but maybe, if she sprinted, if the mare caught up and slowed the stallion down, if whatever adrenaline that was driving the stallion to ignore his wounds ran out, if she could just reach him and bring him to his sense, maybe the situation could still be salvaged and they could still make their escape.

The opportunity arose when the stallion suddenly collapsed, just a few meters from the border of the camp. Any sense of relief Rarity may have felt was quickly overcome with worry for the old pony, and worry soon became despair as the foppish leader of the bandits stepped forward from behind a tree, holding a dagger. Despite everything, Rarity couldn’t help but notice how ragged and torn the stallion’s outfit had become. The coat was missing an entire sleeve, and his hat was missing, revealing a complete lack of a mane.

She forced her attention away from the bandit boss’s appearance and toward the fallen old stallion. The mare was knelt beside him, crying as she shook his body. The old stallion let out a groan as he tried to roll onto his back with his hooves clutched tightly against his chest. His breaths came out labored and pained, causing him to wince with each inhale and shudder with each exhale.

The leader of the bandits kicked the mare aside, silencing her pitiful petitions for mercy. Beneath that messy beard, his features were contorted into an enraged snarl as he glared at the old stallion laid at his hooves. He wasn’t long in this world, the old stallion. His futile attempts to keep his stab wound closed bought him a minute at most, but the bandit was in no mood to wait, not after the old fool had the audacity to survive the first strike. He lifted the dagger, ready to ensure that the second cut was a fatal one.

The dagger fell from his grasp when he suddenly found himself lifted up off the ground. Both of Rarity’s back hooves had found their way directly into the soft section beneath the bandit leader’s chin, and the momentum she had accumulated during her forward charge transferred into the blow when she turned and pivoted right into the kick. It might not have been enough to buck clean a whole tree of its fruit, but even Applejack would have been impressed by the height and distance Rarity managed to send the murderous dandy.

The glow of victory was already fading as the bandit leader was already slowly getting back up. His head shook to rid of the flashing lights in his vision, and he winced when he gave the tender area under his jaw a light touch. “You,” he hissed, turning his hateful glare toward Rarity. He picked up the dropped dagger and lunged forward.

It appeared that the leader of the bandit hadn’t completely shaken off Rarity’s kick. His swing was a clumsy attempt that Rarity easily sidestepped. What time she might bought for herself with that dodge was wasted, however, as she struggled to pull her own weapon out of her cloak. Rarity just managed to removed the blade from its sheath when the gang boss swung again.

It was near miss, but a miss nevertheless. The sight of a sharp, deadly blade flying only inches by her face ignited something innate and animalistic that had been deeply buried beneath societal norms and evolutionary developments. Her body, driven by adrenaline, panic, and instinct, reacted, and before Rarity could come up with a single thought, her hoof had already come down and plunged her dagger into the bandit’s one good eye.

He screamed and waved his weapon wildly, forcing Rarity to step back. The stallion let out another anguished howl as he yanked the blade out of his face, leaving behind a large gash. “I’ll kill you for this!” he screamed, brandishing both daggers. “Where are you?” Had Rarity’s blade gone any deeper, it may have been enough to destroy the bandit’s vision completely and permanently, but desperation could only get her so far, and his eye, red and barely visible underneath the mark Rarity had left, rolled about until it eventually found the pony who had damaged it so.

The leader of the bandits stumbled toward Rarity, slashing at air in front of him as he walked forward, cackling and screaming. He built up speed with each step he took, becoming faster and faster and drawing closer even as Rarity moved back. It was too late to try and flee. Sooner rather than later, that whirlwind of blades would be upon her.

Rarity tensed up, readying herself for the approaching assault. She had no weapons, and she didn’t think she’d get another opportunity to kick him like she had done earlier. At this point, her only defensive options were to dodge and to continue dodging. Hopefully, with that wound and the shouting and all of those erratic and wild motions he kept making, the bandit would soon tire out. Until then, all she had to do was avoid getting stabbed.

She had been successful in that regard her entire life up to now, Rarity could only hope her luck held. Her knees bent preemptively, preparing her to duck and tumble away at any second. The screaming grew louder, and she could hear the daggers whistle through the air. She forced her eyes open, ignoring all urges to blink or look away as the distance between them shrunk.

“I’ll kill you! I see you, and I’m going to kill you!”

Not yet.

She needed to focus. Her timing had to be immaculate.

“I’m going to kill you so dead! You hear me? Dead!”

Not yet.

There was no room for error. One miscalculation might be all it took to end everything.

“So dead! You are so dead! I’m going to kill you, you stupid b—“

The bandit stopped walking. The daggers fell to the ground. His body soon followed, crashing down with an audible thud, and buried deep in the back of his head, sticking out and up toward the forest canopy, was the shaft of an arrow.

“I told you not to go too far.”

And standing right across with the tip of her bow planted in the grass was Huntress, wearing an all too familiar scowl.

“Huntress! Thank goodness.” Rarity’s legs turned to jelly with relief, and she dropped to her knees. “How did you find me? No, that can wait.” She pointed to her fellow former prisoners. The mare was at her father’s side, helping him press against his wound as she wept. The old stallion was shaking, and he was still gasping painfully for air, but at least there were signs of life. “He’s badly injured,” Rarity explained. “I don’t know if, can you, is there anything you can do?”

Huntress slowly, perhaps even reluctantly, turned away from Rarity and looked instead to the ponies Rarity had directed her towards. She swung her bow over her back and started toward them. “Move over,” she ordered, giving the mare a shove to the side.

“It’s alright,” Rarity assured. She had managed to return feeling to her legs and quickly went over to help the mare. “Don’t worry, she’s a, well, she’s with me in any case. She can be a little abrasive, yes,” Rarity added with a frown in Huntress’s direction, “but she means well. Your father is in good hooves, that I’m sure.”

“Then, he’ll be alright? And, and my sister!” The mare paled. “Where’s Minutiae? Is my sister’s safe?”

“Y-yes, she’s s-safe,” Rarity stammered out as she got the mare to stop shaking her and let go of her shoulders. “I told her to stay put when we went after your father. She should still be over there.”

The mare followed Rarity’s hoof toward the direction they had been trying to escape toward. “Alright then,” she said with a relieved sigh. “If my father is being taken care of, we should go—“

“Hey!” Huntress suddenly called. Cradled in her forelegs was the old stallion’s head. and neck. Much of the color in his face had faded, and each breath he forced in sent a violent shudder through his entire body. “I need one of you to hold up his head for me. And hurry, he doesn’t have much time.”

“But, Minutiae,” muttered the mare, biting her lip. “I-I can’t just—“

“I’ll stay and help here,” Rarity offered. “You go find your sister. She’ll be more receptive to you than me. We’ll take care of your father. He will be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter who stays to help, just get over here!” Huntress shouted.

Rarity and the mare shared a look. Then with a nod, the mare took off, shouting out the filly’s name as she approached the area they had left her. Rarity rushed over to Huntress and knelt beside her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Here, hold him,” her guide instructed, thrusting the stallion’s head into Rarity grasp. “Now get his mouth opened.”

“His, mouth?”

“Yes, his mouth,” Huntress snapped as she tore through her saddlebags. “Ah, here we go.” From the bags she pulled out something plump, round, and red. It was a berry, the same berry from last night Rarity realized. “Well? What are you waiting for? Open his mouth already!”

Rarity, spurred by Huntress’s exclamation, obeyed and forced the injured pony’s jaw down. “More,” Huntress commanded. The gap between his lips widened as Rarity reluctantly pulled the upper section of the stallion’s head back. “Alright, that’ll have to do.” Huntress shoved the berry into the stallion’s open mouth, pushing it in as far as possible.

“Hold him still,” Huntress ordered loudly over the stallion’s thrashing. She held down his hind legs Rarity secured the front ones while keeping his head in position.

“Is, is this really helping?”

“Just get him to swallow the berry. Rub his throat. Yes, like that.” A sizable bulge could be seen traveling down the length of the stallion’s neck. “There we go.”

Huntress suddenly released the stallion, and to Rarity’s surprise, his kicking had ceased. He had gone still in her grasp, and when she cautiously released him as well, he made no additional pained and violent motions. His breathing, while still labored, no longer sounded forced and painful, and slowly but surely it was falling into a stable rhythm.

“He’ll be fine now,” Huntress said. She straightened her pack and turned to Rarity. “So, what happened? And don’t tell me you wandered all the way here just to piss.”

“N-no, of course not,” Rarity replied, turning red at Huntress’s vulgarity. “I was brought here by one of his subordinates.” She gestured to the lifeless body of the bandit boss. “How did you end up finding me? When did you know I was missing?” asked Rarity.

“I figured something was wrong when something, I thought it was you, might have been your ponynapper, tripped my alarm. As for finding your trail, that wasn’t much of a—“

“Papa!”

The two mares looked toward the cry to find the filly running right at them, with the elder sister right behind her. Before anypony could stop her, the little filly dove into the stallion and threw her forelegs around him. His eyes flew wide open, the eyeballs themselves almost protruding past their lids, as he let out a cross between a grunt and a groan along with a bit of spittle.

“Minutiae?” the old stallion sputtered. He struggled to sit up and look around, grimacing at the effort. He turned to his oldest daughter who had just arrive. “Pendula? Then, I’m..He patted his recently bandaged chest and winced. “I’m alive. And, everypony is alright? What about the bandits? Are we safe?”

“Well.” Rarity turned to the leader of the gang that had imprisoned them, and everypony else followed her gaze. “I don’t believe we’ll need to worry about him bothering us at least, but we do still have that entire camp of thieving, murdering scoundrels close by. We should probably leave before they come looking for their leader.”

“No need to rush,” Huntress interjected. She made her way over to the bandit’s body and yanked the arrow out of the back of his head. “They’ve been dealt with, more or less.” She wiped the arrowhead against the once fancy dress coat, and after confirming its sharpness, she placed it in the empty quiver attached to her side. “You’re welcome to whatever you can find in the camp, as long as you leave me the arrows.”

“Then, while you were there, did you happen across any sealed crates?” the old stallion inquired. “Anything that might have looked like it was holding valuable merchandise? Please, tell me those were intact.”

“Don’t know.” Huntress flipped over the body of the bandit boss onto his back and started rifling through the pockets and the folds of his coat and shirt. “Wasn’t paying attention to anything like that.”

“Right, of course.” The stallion sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to see for myself.”

“Father, wait,” the mare called after the old stallion hurrying back toward the camp they had just been prisoners of. “Please, I think we should stick together. What if there are more of them?” She turned to Rarity and Huntress.

“The camp is clear,” Huntress said without giving so much as a glance from her pilfering. “Some managed to get away, but I doubt they’ll be back any time soon.”

“I’ll go with you, if it’ll put you at ease,” Rarity offered the mare before turning to Huntress and the corpse she was rummaging with an eyebrow raised and a small, disgusted frown. “Huntress, you seem to have a handle with the—“

Looting. Plundering. Despoiling of the still warm cadaver that had once been a fellow pony with his own hopes and dreams, never to be fulfilled.

“—appropriation of whatever is on his person. I don’t suppose you’ll be needing my help here?”

“Just don’t wander off again,” Huntress said. “Oh, and here.” She held out the dagger the bandit had borrowed from Rarity toward her. “Just in case. You know where the sheath is?”

“I, um.” Rarity pressed at the folds of her cloak, feeling for the dagger’s scabbard. “I must have dropped it somewhere around here.”

Huntress sighed. “Alright, I’ll look around. Just, try not to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rarity said as she firmly took hold of the dagger’s hilt. She could’ve done without Huntress’s condescending tone, but she recognized the legitimacy of her guide’s concern, and as she and the two sisters followed in the old stallion’s path toward the bandit camp, Rarity made sure to move cautiously, keeping the blade at leg length and pointed directly downward and away from anypony.

Despite the slow pace Rarity forced them to follow, they soon reached the edge of the camp. The cheeks of the mare beside her puffed out as her face turned green, and she quickly threw a hoof over her younger sister’s eyes.

“Hey!” the filly exclaimed, trying to escape the mare’s grasp. “What? What is it?”

“I—“ The mare gagged and coughed. “It’s nothing, nothing you need to see. Just, let’s go this way,” she said as she guided the filly past a trio of bodies with a large collection of arrows and, very strangely, thorns and quills sticking out of them. More bodies of bandits could be found scattered throughout the camp in similar states with their swords and spears drawn and nearby, a few still holding their weapons tightly in a death grip. Like with what had happened with the poor stallion who had brought her here in the very first place, there was a strange lack of any visceral mess anywhere, not even blood stains on their clothes, despite the bandits’ obviously violent ends, and of what Rarity could tell, all of their eyes were closed shut and mysteriously marked with dark Xs.

Out of morbid curiosity, Rarity took a quick count. She couldn’t help but be impressed at the number that served as a testament to Huntress’s martial abilities. Several questions regarding how she had acquired such a proficiency at taking lives and what she was doing in a quaint farming village arose, but Rarity shoved them all to the side. As little as she knew of Huntress, it was obvious from last night attempts at conversation that the mare preferred her privacy, and from that experience, Rarity doubted any amount of prying would yield any information.

“Your friend,” the mare whispered, breaking Rarity away from her thoughts. “Did she really do all this? By herself?”

“I, er, I suppose so. I mean, if there had been another party involved in this mess, I’d imagine they would have stuck around.”

“Is she, an adventurer?”

“An adventurer?” Rarity repeated. “Well, I’m not sure. I suppose, if you were to consider our trip an adventure, then yes. You’ll have to ask her yourself to be sure.”

“I see.” The mare seemed to have more to say, but before she could, a call rang out from one of the tents.

“Hey!” It was the raspy voice of the older stallion. “Somepony get over here and give me a hoof, yeah?”

The three headed toward where the call had come from. They pulled aside the entrance flap and, seeing that there was only the old stallion struggling with one of the many crates around, went in. The filly, having finally been released by her protective sister now that all the grisly evidence of battle was no longer visible, ran over to her father’s side to watch as he pressed his entire weight on a crowbar wedged between the lid and the rest of the box. Each box in the tent, including the one the old stallion was working on, was marked with the faded stamp of a songbird, the same symbol as the one on the stallion’s flanks Rarity noted.

The stallion stepped aside and gave his daughter room to approach. Once she was sure that her dagger was in a place that wouldn’t cause anypony harm, Rarity joined her at the crowbar. Under their combined efforts, the lid creaked open as the nails holding it down were forced out of the wood. It took some time, but the box was eventually opened, and the stallion quickly pushed his way to it, muttering to himself worriedly as he stuck his head into the crate.

“Oh, thank all that is holy,” he breathed. “At least these ones are safe. We’re not completely ruined just yet. And we owe it all to you, miss.” There was some rummaging that could be heard from within the crate. “Miss, my family and I, we owe you our futures. Without my wares, we’d have no choice but to start over as beggars or worse.”

“Is, that right?” Rarity said, looking to the stallion’s two daughters for a potential explanation. The older one only shook her head as she let out an exasperated sigh while the filly shrugged. From their apparent lack of concern, it appeared that the old stallion was speaking in hyperboles. Rarity supposed she could empathize with him, to a degree; as a business owner herself, she was aware of how one’s perceived importance of one’s own merchandise could get a little out of control, through she couldn’t say whether she’d willingly charge into a gathering of murderers and thieves just to save an order of dresses. “Well, I’m pleased I could help in any way.”

“Yes, yes, but I’d rather not start my new life in debt.” At last, the stallion removed himself from the box. “So please, I want you to have this, for everything you’ve done for us.”

He placed something heavy into Rarity’s forelegs. It took her a moment to recognize the bulky contraption for what it was largely because it was, perhaps, the last thing she had ever expected to receive.

“We risk our lives coming back here, for clocks?”

“Ah, so you know what this is,” the stallion said with a grin. “But this is not just any old timekeeper. Because, at the end of each hour, well.” He chuckled and stuck a hoof into the bottom of the device. After a bit of fiddling, it began to tick softly as the hands on the clock’s face started to move. Suddenly, a flap near the top opened, and out sprung a toy bird that chirped and whistled before retreating back inside.

Rarity slowly lowered her gift and stared at the smiling stallion. It took every bit of willpower she had to force a grin back.

11. Shepard the Weak

Shepard the Weak

Huntress had been reluctant in continuing their journey with the family of three, especially when seeing the large and cumbersome cart full of fragile and apparently expensive cuckoo clocks. The increase in number and the added baggage meant having to sacrifice stealth and speed, and in her view, it wasn’t worth the additional safety that the larger group would have provided. Getting these points convincingly across to Rarity, however, proved beyond the reserved mare’s communicative capabilities, and Rarity in response countered that given that the family was heading toward the old trade route just as they were, it only made sense in a matter of convenience to join up with them.

And honestly, was Huntress really going to heartlessly abandon these poor ponies, including a young foal, to whatever danger lurked within the forest?

So, rather begrudgingly, the traveling pair grew into a party of five, and Rarity, in contrast to her dour guide, was more than happy to share the road with more talkative companions. As they made their way out of the forest and continued along the outer rim of trees, with Huntress taking the lead and Rarity and the mare in the rear with the cart, Rarity learned that the family had been ambushed and captured by the bandits after getting lost in the forest while searching for a shortcut. They were originally from the town of Trotlen where Pendula, as the mare introduced herself, her sister Minutiae, and their father Clockworks ran an old antique store specializing in the repair and restoration of timepieces. While most of their neighbors had long since fled the town due to its relatively short distance to the capital and the royal palace—

“I’m sorry, you’re saying ponies were leaving because Trotlen was so close to the capital city?” Rarity interjected. “I’d have imagined such proximity would have been a reason to move to the town, not a deterrent.”

Pendula gave Rarity a funny look as her father let out a humorless bark of a laugh. “Oh, once upon a time, sure,” he said. “Trotlen was the envy of all of Spiketopia. Then, you know who came along and, well, everypony knows what happened to the capital soon after. Anypony who needs a remind just needs to look up at the giant fortress where the palace used to be.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose that would explain things,” said Rarity. “I had, er, hadn’t made the connection. Silly me.”

“Well, it’s been a long day,” Pendula said with an understanding nod. “Anyways, Father was against leaving the shop.”

“Hmph. That store has been in our family for four, no, five nonconsecutive generations. After everything my father had to do to get it back from those no good conniving—“

Pendula continued on, explaining that they finally abandoned their home some weeks ago when a rumor spread among the few remaining inhabitants that the heroes would soon be arriving. The sudden replacement of their sister town of Lentrotster with a massive crater and news from scouts of movement by the new regime’s forces lent credence to such rumors. Nopony wanted to be caught in the crossfire of the inevitable epic battle, so those still in Trotlen packed what they could and made their escape, scattering to the winds in just about every direction.

At this, Clockworks snorted. “Can’t believe I was talked into leaving. Trotlen’s probably already back on its hooves, and somepony else is profiting off of all our family’s hard work if those heroes are as good as the stories say. We should’ve stayed.”

“Well, in any case, that’s our story,” Pendula said. “We’ve been making our way west since.”

“To Baldursgait?” Rarity asked.

“Oh, heavens no,” Pendula had answered with shake of her head. “That’s no place for a family and certainly not a place for a filly.” She pointed to her sister. “We were thinking Candelkeep or maybe even Iriaebronc a little further north. Don’t tell me you’re going to a dangerous place like Baldursgait?”

“Er, well—“

“She has business with the local adventurers’ league,” Huntress suddenly interrupted, shooting Rarity a stern look over her shoulder. “Private business,” she added with emphasis on the adjective.

“O-oh! I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Is it because you’re the princess?”

The cart came to a halt as Rarity and Pendula stopped and stared at the filly who had spoken.

“You know, to gather an army of adventurers to fight the Squid Wizard’s army while the heroes take down the Squid Wizard himself. Or, you know, something like that,” Minutiae continued. “That’s what I’d do if I was the princess of a conquered kingdom anyways.”

“Minutiae, you know this mare isn’t actually Princess Shmarity,” the older sister said with a small smile. “And if she were here, that would mean the heroes already won. Remember, the whole reason they’re going to the capital is to rescue the princess.”

“Oh, right. Huh.” Minutiae yawned.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Rarity suggested. “We’ve all been walking for quite a while. Huntress?”

The mare in front stopped with a sigh and looked up to the sky. “We still have a few hours of daylight. You can rest when we stop for the night.”

“Hmph,” grumbled the stallion, using the brief pause to shake out his legs. “In a hurry, are we?”

“Yes.” Huntress took a couple of steps forward, stopped, and let out another sigh before turning around. “You have five minutes.”

A third sigh rang out, filled with collective relief from the rest of the group as they took the time to stretch and rest their hooves. Five minutes wasn’t enough time to completely unhitch herself from the cart, but it allowed Pendula to loosen the straps around her and take a much appreciated seat. “Could you get me some water, please?” she requested.

“Of course.” Rarity made her way to the side of the wagon.

“Careful not to touch the merchandise,” warned Clockworks as he hawkishly watched her climb into the cart.

“Yes, of course,” Rarity said again with a hint of exasperation. She navigated past the crates with Clockworks’s symbol until she reached an assortment of cloaks, blankets, cooking utensils, canvas sheets, and various other supplies that those dead bandits probably wouldn’t miss. None of them raised any objections to the raiding of their belongings in any case, not even when Huntress helped herself to the purses on their persons.

The wallet in Rarity’s bag was now a little heavier, a little fuller. She had been initially reluctant in accepting the metaphorical bloodstained coins, but Rarity couldn’t argue with Huntress’s logic. She did need money if wanted to survive in a place like Baldursgait, and what Elder Woods was able to scrap together for her might have only been enough to pay the entry toll. She’d might be able to use her reputation as Princess Shmarity there to get what she wanted, but generosity was a far safer means of persuasion than exposing herself as the Squid Wizard’s supposed hostage. Besides, the money was likely already stolen. It didn’t belong to the bandits anyways.

There remained, however, the matter that they were still robbing from the dead. The strange lack of gore did mitigate Rarity’s disgust at the task a bit, but she still found the whole thing completely abhorrent and even sacrilegious. What kind of uncivilized, mannerless degenerates would steal from the still warm corpses of their fellow creatures? If they went through with the desecration of these bodies, were any of them any better than the now dead and scattered bandits?

It bothered Rarity that she had only felt so after she and Huntress had already gone through each and every pocket and abandoned saddlebag and laden the cart with the gang’s supplies. It bothered her further how easy it was to shake off those guilty thoughts, almost as quickly and easily as it had been getting used to being around and touching all those dirty corpses.

Well, what’s done was done, and Clockworks’s family certainly seemed to appreciate the extra supplies. Rarity removed a tin canteen from their gathered collection, and after making sure it was one of ones with water, she got down from the cart and made her way back to Pendula who gratefully accepted the drink. The canteen went around, giving everypony an opportunity to take a few gulps before Huntress stood up and announced it was time to move, and after some grumbling from Clockworks, they set off.

Rarity and Pendula spoke a little more, discussing life in Trotlen when Spiketopia was peaceful, with Clockworks chiming in every so often about the even ‘gooder and older’ days. Pendula tried asking for Rarity’s story but was quickly dissuaded by Huntress’s swift and sharp insistence that she respect Rarity’s privacy. Rarity couldn’t condone her guide’s rudeness, but she was thankful that she didn’t have to fabricate some elaborately convincing backstory. The truth, that she was some pony from a different and possibly distant land with no idea as to how she got here who had suddenly been given the identity of their princess that happened to look just like her and have a name very similar to her own, probably wouldn’t have been accepted anyways.

Eventually their conversation ran dry, with Pendula having run out of things to describe and Rarity having little to share in return, so Rarity turned to Minutiae, asking her to share more of her fantastic scenarios of what she’d do if she were the princess. Rarity found that the filly was of the three family members the most difficult to read. Clockworks was a stubborn old stallion obsessed with his craft and the past, always willing to offer commentary and complaints unprompted while Pendula reminded Rarity a little of Fluttershy, more subdued than her father and only really speaking after Rarity initiated dialogue.

Minutiae, on the other hoof, seemed to alternate between the two. At first, in response to Rarity’s inquiries, the filly only mumbled a few vague phrases about how she didn’t know or wasn’t sure about anything. However, just as Rarity was about to resign herself to continuing their trek in silence, Minutiae suddenly lit up and began jabbering nonstop, giving answers to questions Rarity had asked minutes earlier. Then, just as suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, she was quiet once more.

Clockworks called his youngest over, giving Rarity the opportunity to ask Pendula, as politely as possible and with assurances that no answer was necessary should the topic be too uncomfortable, about her sister’s behavior. At this, Pendula frowned and turned to watch Minutiae as the filly became cheerful and started bothering Huntress up in front.

“I don’t really know myself,” Pendula admitted. “Minutiae, she used to be like all foals around her age. You know, curious, loud, wildly imaginative.”

Three words Rarity could have used to describe her own sister. She nodded.

“Well, she lost a lot of that ever since the capital was destroyed,” Pendula continued. “I don’t know if she really understood what had happened, she being so young and all, but after that, all of her friends left with their families. For a while, Minutiae was the only foal in Trotlen, and that can’t have been good for her.

“It’s been a little better since we left. Sometimes, we get to see a little of what she was like before this whole mess.” Pendula’s smile didn’t last. “Of course, then we got robbed and captured and saw a bunch of ponies die. Don’t know how it’ll affect her, but I can’t imagine she’ll be completely fine after all that.”

“Oh.” The next couple seconds passed by in silence, then, “I’m sorry.”

Pendula cleared her throat. “Please, don’t be. It could have been much worse if you hadn’t shown up. Heavens know what those bandits were planning with us. I just, hope that wherever we end up has ponies around Minutiae’s age.“

“Being around other foals will definitely help,” Rarity agreed.

The group suddenly halted when Huntress raised a hoof. “We’re stopping for the night,” she announced. Rarity caught the reluctance in the scarred mare’s voice, and she looked up just in time to catch the sunset. There was still color in the sky, the sun still shone and provided light. To be stopping now when in the night previously Huntress forced her forward until she could barely see her own hoof in front of her face was a tad odd, but Rarity kept her confusion to herself as she helped Pendula guide the cart into the forest. She was sure Huntress had her reasons; maybe she wasn’t comfortable guiding such a large group in the dark. Maybe she recognized just how tired everypony else was.

Or maybe she had predicted how much time it would take to find a path through the forest that could accommodate the wagon. Finding a clearing large enough for everypony and everything took even longer, and as they ventured deeper into the forest, the darkness of night and the shade of the canopy above necessitated the use of lanterns. At last, they found the required space and went about setting up camp. Rarity and Minutiae were given the job of getting a campfire ready while Pendula and Clocksworks started on raising the tents. Huntress had vanished into the foliage with some string and a couple of bells before anypony could question her, and despite Rarity’s assurances, Clockworks still grumbled.

Rarity needed a good couple of attempts, but she eventually got the hang of the tinderbox and managed to coax out the necessary sparks. This time, the fire was alive and well before Huntress had returned.

“Where did you run off to?” Clockworks asked as Huntress passed by. “What was so important you had to leave all this to us?”

Everypony else either sighed or shook their head. The old stallion’s ornery attitude had long since grown tiresome to all. “Setting up an alarm,” Huntress answered curtly, with as much tact as Clockworks had given her.

There was some more mumbled grousing from Clockworks, but nothing more came out of that exchange. They settled down and readied themselves for a meal. Some of the more perishable rations were removed from the cart like the cheeses, and fresher fruits that had been found in the bandits’s camp. Only Huntress and Clockworks refrained from partaking, neither having any apparent appetite, which was strange, considering that the two had also skipped lunch as well. Even Clockworks was surprised with his lack of hunger and ended up settling for a few mouthfuls of cheap cider they had pilfered from the gang’s leader’s personal tent.

Shortly after finishing supper, Huntress ordered everypony to bed. There would be a very early start tomorrow to make up for lost time, the mare explained, and after some whining from Minutiae, the family of three grabbed their beddings and went into one of the tents, leaving the other to Rarity and Huntress.

“Are you, not going to sleep in the tent?” Rarity asked as she watched Huntress roll out her sleeping bag out on the grass within view of the fire.

“No.” Huntress pulled out her bow, nocked it, and laid it beside her with a few additional arrows nearby.

“Well, there’s plenty of room if you change your mind,” Rarity offered. Having the tent all to herself wasn’t worth leaving a companion out here in the cold wilderness, but it was ultimately Huntress’s decision, and Rarity wasn’t about to let Clockworks and Pendula’s efforts setting this all up go to waste. “Goodnight.”

“Wait.”

Rarity stopped and turned and waited for Huntress to continue. Moments passed in silence broken only by the crackling of burning wood. “Yes?” Rarity finally prompted.

Huntress shifted onto her side and turned away. “It’s nothing. See you in the morning.”

Morning arrived early, just as Huntress had warned. Rarity was the first to be shaken awake at least an hour before she was ready by the mare, and she managed to force herself from her bedding and groggily exited the tent in time to catch Huntress silently slip into the family’s shelter. As she waited for Clockworks, Pendula, and Minutiae to get up, Rarity cleaned up what she could, putting away the blankets and making sure her saddlebags were in order.

Minutiae was the first of her family up and about, yawning and rubbing her eyes as she followed Huntress out of the tent. The filly sat and watched Rarity and Huntress start taking down the tent Rarity had slept in. They had gotten most of it down by the time Clockworks and Pendula finally stepped outside. Neither of them looked any better than Rarity felt, and it took them some time before they had their tent down and belongings secured.

After some cold pieces of fruit for breakfast and a lot of grumbling from Clockworks, they set off, following the trail from last night. Soon, with Huntress leading, they exited the forest and continued their way along its edge. For the most part, other than Clockworks’s constant mumbled complaining, the trip went in silence. Nopony was in any mood to talk, not while the sky was still dark and the morning birds were still fast asleep.

Suddenly, Huntress led them away from the forest and into the prairie. The tall grass caught around the wagon’s wheels, slowing them down and requiring the efforts of both Rarity and Pendula to move it along. As they crossed the empty plains, the sun rose and greeted them with a spectacle of bright colors. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and it was a pity that nopony, or at least nopony who might have cared, had the energy to appreciate such a perfect morning.

Over time, however, as the warm beams of sunlight shone upon them while a comforting breeze blew by, their tiredness faded, and each step was lifted with renewed vigor. Minutiae was ahead with Huntress, trying to keep up with the mare as she assaulted her with question after question. To Rarity’s surprise, Huntress eventually started to answer, if only to attempt to stem the flow of inquiries and sate the filly’s curiosity.

The sun has just gotten a decent distance up in the sky, around late morning, when Huntress stopped and called everypony over. They gathered around her, and she pointed down the hill they had stopped on. There, where Huntress’s hoof directed them towards, was an assortment of crumbling structures. Rarity could make out some roofless houses if she squinted, and passing by the rows of ruins was a paved road that stretched out and continued beyond the horizon.

“That’s what’s left of Bakersfield,” Huntress explained. “The old trade route is the road next to it. Still have your map?”

Rarity nodded and pulled the map out for all to see.

“Here’s Bakersfield,” said Huntress, directing everypony to a small dot with the name scribbled next to it. “Just follow the road until you reach your destination.”

“Yeah, yeah. We know,” Clockworks said with a dismissive snort. “What, was this the whole reason why we had to get up so earlier, to have you lecture about following a road? It’s not like this wasn’t our entire plan from the start.”

There was a pause, a second of stillness. Everypony held their breaths as they watched and waited for Huntress’s response. “Father,” Pendula finally whispered disapprovingly, placing a hoof on the old stallion’s shoulder as she gave their guide an apologetic look. “I’m—“

“Good to hear.” Huntress started back in the other direction, toward the forest.

“Wait, please.” Pendula caught the end of Huntress’s cloak. “I’m sorry. My father, he gets this way when he’s tired, he didn’t mean to act so rude. Father, apologize.”

“Don’t bother, I don’t need it.” Huntress pulled away. “I was only supposed to bring her to the road,” she said with a nod in Rarity’s direction. “My job’s done.”

“Hmph.” The old stallion turned away, sticking his snout up and toward the ruins and the road. “Good riddance. Well, let’s get going. Come on.”

He started down the hill, alone. Minutiae turned from the retreating figure of her father to her sister, looking for instruction. “I’m so sorry,” Pendula said. “After everything you’ve done for us, you even saved his life, you didn’t deserve—“

“I was just at the right place at the right time,” Huntress interrupted with a disinterested wave. “You should probably start moving if you want to reach the next settlement before nightfall. Take shelter in the towns during the night, and never travel after sundown.” She paused, then added, “Safe travels.”

Pendula gave a small nod. “Thank you, for everything. Come on, Minutiae.”

“Goodbye, miss!” the filly said, waving before she skipped off after Clockworks who, despite his head start, had barely made any progress toward the remains of Bakersfield. Pendula and Rarity began making their way toward them with the heavy cart of supplies and antique clocks.

“Wait.”

They stopped at Huntress’s exclamation and did so, looking to the mare as they waited. Huntress rubbed the back of her head, keeping her gaze toward the ground. “I, need to speak to, her.” She pointed to Rarity. “Privately.”

Rarity and Pendula turned to each other, and after a shared look and a shrug, Rarity removed herself from the cart. Pendula went ahead, walking slowly and carefully to keep the wagon under control, and after a minute or so, she and the cart were out of earshot. Huntress continued to say nothing however and kept her gaze averted, finding interest in the dirt around her hooves.

“Is something wrong?” Rarity prompt.

“No, nothing’s wrong, not really,” Huntress said. She sighed and pulled something out from her cloak. “Here.” She held her hoof out to Rarity, and in it was Elder Woods’s obsidian dagger, with the black blade wrapped with linen and the polished wooden hilt presented right at Rarity. “Take it.”

Rarity hesitated. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“No, but Elder Woods wanted you to have it for a reason,” Huntress responded with a frown. “Keep the other one I gave you too, just in case,” she added as Rarity started to dig through her own cloak for the other dagger.

“Alright then.” Slowly, Rarity gripped her hoof around the wood handle. Huntress did not release the dagger easily, and it required a few tugs before Rarity got the dagger from her, causing her to stumble a bit back. As Rarity recovered, Huntress stepped up, and after looking to each side, she leaned forward.

“Elder Woods, he believes that you, whoever you may be, are here to save Spiketopia,” she said, almost whispered. “He’s put his faith in you, as we all had in the heroes before you. Let’s hope this time goes better.”

Rarity placed her new dagger in her cloak’s inner pocket. With two weapons in there, it was becoming a little tight. “Thank you, for everything. I’m not certain I understand all that is happening, but if this is what I have to do to save my friends, you and your father can rest easy. I will not fail.”

Huntress stared for a moment before stepping back. With a nod, she threw the cloak’s hood over her head. “Best of luck.”

And with that, the two separated, Huntress toward the forest and Rarity toward the road.

12. The Black Road

The Black Road

Per Huntress’s advice, the family of former clock shop owners plus Rarity made their way down the old road while the sun was up, and when evening came along they stopped to take shelter in the structures of the abandoned villages and towns along the way. The first few nights had been an ordeal as the howls of prowling nocturnal beasts kept them from sleeping soundly, reinforcing the need to reach and stop at these old settlements before sundown. Nopony felt safe with just the thin canvas of their tents for protection, not after hearing those monstrous growls, but eventually even the loudest and most feral of such sounds was reduced to mere ambient noise to fall asleep to as the group fell into a routine of finding and securing a complete set of walls before darkness fell each night.

Besides the fright ambiance of the first nights, a couple of close calls where they barely made it safely indoors before nightfall, and the sightings of some sizable shadows, the worst the group had experienced was some damage to the cart and a loss in their rations when they had left the wagon and the excess supplies outside for the night, and even then the damage was largely superficial and after some panic, they determined that there would still be plenty of food for the trip as long as they exercised moderation. All in all, after the initial excitement, the trip was mostly uneventfully, and their greatest struggles were enduring Clockworks’s constant gripping on just about everything and dealing with the sheer boredom.

They encountered no other beings on the partially paved road. There were no bandits to fight off or merchants to barter or fellow travelers to exchange stories with. Every village and town they entered was a ghost town, devoid of life save for the weeds and grass and the nightly parade of beasts. All that remained of the original inhabitants besides their old homes were the small trinkets they had left behind: a moth eaten hat, a toy sword made of wood, a cheap wedding band, a broken music box, a cradle next to a rocking chair that was missing a leg.

In four nights, they had made four such stops in four such settlements differing only in size and the number of standing structures available. Rarity managed to find the names of two of them and referenced them with her map. After exhausting Pendula’s knowledge on the mysterious Fey, which mostly consisted of fairytales about naughty foals being spirited away or punished ironically, and sharing a little about her life as a seamstress, which she could tell didn’t really interest Pendula, Rarity kept herself busy by keeping track of their journey and determining how much further they had to go.

“So how much longer until we reach Candelkeep?” grumbled Clockworks. He and Minutiae had been taking turns asking Rarity similar annoying questions for the past few hours. She let out a sigh, the same sigh she had been giving out every time she had to answer.

“As I’ve already said, if the town we left this morning was indeed Marebrook, we should be reaching Candelkeep in another two days.” From there, there would be another day of travel to get to Baldursgait, a trek Rarity would be making alone.

“Another two days,” Clockworks repeated with a snort. “Yesterday you said it was three days.”

Rarity’s teeth could’ve grounded stone into fine powder if they were grit any harder. “Indeed,” she managed to say through pursed lips. “Funny that.”

“Are we even going the right way? We’re not wasting our time going the wrong way, are we? We’d better not be, because if we are...”

At this point, Rarity simply tuned the old stallion out and turned her focus on her surroundings instead. He and his tongue would tire out eventually, as they had the last hour and the hour before, after which it would be Minutiae’s turn to bother her about how much longer the trip was to be. At least Pendula could help distract the filly before her whining grew too unbearable.

There wasn’t much to see and take her mind off of Clockworks’s ranting, unfortunately. Some fields of grass, a couple patches of dandelions, the occasional lone tree that barely provided enough shade for them all, a dried up stream. It was the very landscape an artist would come up with if they were inspired by the very feeling of boredom. To relieve herself of her own dullness, Rarity’s imagination painted stalls along the road that was now suddenly smooth and maintained. Carts pulled by merchants passing by ran over the polished stones without a single bump as ponies at the stalls called out to them and peddled their wares, offering cheap souvenirs and refreshments to weary travelers at exorbitant prices. The old trade route came back to life in Rarity’s mind. Had this Ben what life was like back then, when the towns they passed through were still inhabited?

The daydream collapsed when Minutiae interrupted her thoughts with those four words any chaperone dreaded hearing:

“Are we there yet?”

And so the battle for Rarity’s sanity continued throughout the day, breaking only when they stopped for a midday meal before resuming through the afternoon as Clockworks’s complaints expanded to include how much his hooves hurt and how the sun was getting too hot and how tired his legs were getting. Rarity was honestly starting to miss Huntress as a traveling companion; the mare’s aloof quietness was an unappreciated blessing next to the endless noise she had to contend now.

More than her, however, for all of Huntress’s expertise, Rarity missed the company of a certain five ponies. Pinkie Pie would have found something entertaining out of this mire of tedium. Having Twilight direct the trip would have certainly alleviated any concerns of being lost or getting to their destination in a timely manner, and she could certainly field any questions about the trip better than Rarity could have. Rainbow Dash always had something to say, and Applejack could be counted on to have an engaging response ready. And Fluttershy was a wonderful listener, always there to lend an ear even if it meant never getting a word in herself, and her very presence seemed to bring an air of comfort that made it easy to relax around.

And then there was a certain little dragon, there to support whatever role was lacking, even if that role meant staying behind and taking on some extra responsibilities so that they six were free to set off and accomplish whatever mission they were assigned. Spike wasn’t always a traveling partner, but the times when he was were always enjoyable. He was always so attentive to her needs, whether they be a couple more cushions or an extra ear.

Rarity thought of the last time he had accompanied her on a trip, of their long conversation about nothing, of how she dominated the dialogue with a passionate rant on a topic she had since forgotten that had quickly scared off or bored everypony else, of how Spike clung to every word and encouraged her on with wide, eager eyes, of how lively and excited he had been. The memory was replayed, and after its second repeat, Rarity moved on to the next and then to the one after that, keeping her last and most recent instance of seeing Spike, of the dragon limp on the floor, unmoving and forced into those ridiculous robes and that silly beard, at bay.

She looked up and noted the sun’s slow descent. If there was one saving grace of this wreck of a road trip, one small ray of positivity that kept her from tearing out her mane in frustration, it was that the days went by quickly. It hadn’t felt like even an hour had passed since their stop for lunch, but based on the current position of the sun, it was much closer to evening than it was to noon. Pretty soon, they would be treated to a display of reds and oranges over the blue skies above.

Rarity turned to her fellow travelers. “We may need to pick up the pace,” she said, gesturing upward. “We might have a hour or so before sunset, and I don’t see any sign of the next town.”

Clockworks scowled at the sun. “We’re going as fast as we can. You sure we only got an hour left?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” admitted Rarity. “Could be a little more, maybe a little less. Considering what might happen to us if we don’t find shelter before nightfall, I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

Clockworks huffed. “Well that all very good and all for you young folk, but not everypony here can just break into a gallop. You know how much of a strain this is on me already? How much further is the next place anyways?”

“I, can’t imagine it’s much further.”

“Can’t imagine? You mean you don’t know? You’re the one with the map! How can you not know?”

“The map doesn’t have that kind of detail,” Rarity snapped back. “I’ve shown you that already. Now, why don’t we stop wasting time arguing about my timekeeping and distance gauging and get moving?”

“Don’t start ordering me around, missy. I’m old enough to be your father, and I demand your—“

“Father,” Pendula suddenly exclaimed, her tone sharper than it had ever been. Clockworks appeared just as shocked at her outcry as Rarity had been, and he turned his glare to her, opening his mouth to redirect his berating but was cut off before he get a word in as his daughter continued, saying in a much more sweetly voice, “Why don’t you ride in the cart the rest of the way? That way, you won’t have to worry about slowing us down.”

“I’m not worried. I can keep up with the best of you,” Clockworks grumbled even as he climbed onto the cart and pushed around the supplies to make room. “Alright, let’s go.”

Rarity bit back a sigh. “Wait, let me help pull the cart,” she said, and Pendula stepped to the side and adjusted the harness to fit the both of them.

“Can I ride in the cart too?” asked Minutiae, her tail shaking with excitement at the possibility.

“Might as well, I suppose,” Rarity said after she and Pendula shared a look, and the filly, with a small cheer, quickly made her way onto the cart as well.

“Everypony ready?” Pendula asked.

“Ready!” Minutiae said as Clockworks grunted an affirmative. Pendula looked to Rarity who nodded. She returned the nod, and together they took in a breath.

The mares stepped forward, and the cart and all that was in it went with them. With each step they took, they built up speed, slowly transitioning from a jog to a trot to a run to just short of a full out gallop. Their hooves thundered against the road’s rocky, uneven pavement as the wheels of the wagon clacked noisily over the cracks and the bumps.

Rarity’s heart pushed and pummeled against her chest as if trying to escape from its confines. Her lungs soon burned with each forceful inhale and each exhausted exhale. Her legs started to cramp as their muscles tightened. She was no stranger to running, given how being a hero of Equestria meant there was almost always some danger to run towards or away from. But running with a weight attached, physically, with no magic at her disposal, was something new. Applejack and even Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy of all ponies had made it look so easy. How all those taxis in Manehattan could do this for a living was baffling.

The setting sun spurred her onward, forcing her to ignore the pain while reminding her just how little time was left in the day. Huntress had said that the large number of towns and villages made the dangers of night a nonissue, that there was always some place they could find safety in became it became dark. Had she been mistaken? It was this late already, and still there was no settlement in sight.

No, wait, there in the distance. Rarity could barely make out the tips of chimneys, but there they were, and they were getting more visible with each step she and Pendula took. The chimneys became roofs, and the roofs turned into houses. “There!” Rarity heard Minutiae shout from behind. As if the filly had spoken some magic word, Rarity and Pendula found some unspent energy deep in their reserves and pushed themselves at an even quicker pace, leaving the main, partially paved road for the dirt side trail that was leading to that collection of buildings.

The town as a whole could now be properly seen against the backdrop of the setting sun, but there was still a good deal of distance between it and they. The shadows behind them were becoming larger and more prominent as the sun continued its descent, taking some of their hope with it as it sank past the horizon.

Rarity readied herself for an immediate frantic search for safety as they battled with whatever monstrosities hunted in the dark when suddenly a little light appeared, shining from within the town. Then, another appeared and then another until the entire town seemed to glow and shine like a beacon. As they got closer and more of the buildings could be seen and discerned, Rarity saw that several of those lights were coming out of the windows, their sources from somewhere indoors. But then, wouldn’t that mean—

“Hey!” came a cry as they and their cart shot past the town’s borderline. “I’m walking here!”

A surprised Rarity tried slowing down to turn and spot the source of the exclamation. The cart and all it carried, however, had no inclination of stopping for the sake of Rarity’s curiosity and continued onward, colliding into her backside and forcing her forward. With a panicked yelp, Rarity dug her hooves into the dirt, and suddenly the cart started to skid to one side. More screams joined hers as the cart spun out of control a good several yards before losing momentum and slowing to a shaky stop in the center of the road.

Rarity opened her eyes and found herself now facing the town’s entrance and the direction they had just came from. A crowd of muttering ponies had already gather around them, their confused and worried expressions illuminated by the light of lantern hanging from the doorways of houses. Many wore vests and several had on wide brim hats typically seen in frontier settlements like Appleloosa, but there were also some in long white robes clasped closed by a chain at the front of the neck.

“Is everypony alright?” she heard Pendula say. Rarity looked up and to her side and saw that the mare was still on her hooves, and besides some dirt in her coat and some heavy breathing, she looked no worse for wear.

“Y-yeah. We’re alright,” came Minutiae quiet, frightened voice. Rarity watched as Pendula look over to the wagon and let out a sigh of relief after she had finished her cursory assessment

“The heck we are!” Clockworks growled. “I could’ve broken something. Or worse, something could have happened to our wares. What then, huh? What happened back there?”

“I-I’m sorry. I was caught off-guard. I just, didn’t expect, well.” Rarity gestured to the growing crowd around them. “This.”

“What are you—“ Clockworks looked up. His jaw dropped as he finally noticed all the ponies before him. “I thought you said all these places were abandoned,” he hissed.

“I never told you that,” Rarity whispered back angrily. “When have I ever said that?” She turned to Pendula. “Have I ever said that?”

Pendula was in the middle of a shrug when a small group split from the main crowd and approached the wagon. Their leader, a brown stallion with a matching farm hat, cleared his throat. “So, uh, is everypony alright? Anypony hurt?” he asked.

The group looked to each other. For a moment, they just stared, waiting to see if somepony else would take charge.

“Thank you for your concern, truly, we’re just—“

“—all alright, thanks. Just a bit—“

“—what’s it to you? Who even are you folk, anyways?”

Not expecting to receive three separate, simultaneous responses, the stallion blinked and took an uneasy step back, as if creating a little space would help him better understand that jumbled mess of words they had offered him. One of his companions leaned over and whispered into his ear while the rest of the surrounding ponies muttered amongst themselves. Some even pointed shamelessly, undeterred by Clockworks’s scowl or Rarity’s judgmental frown. That frown deepened as Rarity slowly realized that a growing number of those stares and pointed hooves, a number too great to easily attribute to just coincidence, was directed at her and her specifically.

Now Rarity was not the type of mare who suffered from stage fright. Rather, she relished any spotlight if it meant an opportunity to make the world more stylish. In this instance, however, all Rarity had to offer was this drab traveler’s cloak and a messy mane that could, should, and better would be forgiven considering that she had been on the road for about a week now with few chances to fix it and fewer tools to do so properly. As such, Rarity doubted that the interest she seemed to be garnering was from sparking a fashion revolution, and besides, she didn’t look all that different from the rest of the group, and none of them appeared to be getting the same attention as she was.

Coming up with only one reasonable explanation, Rarity grabbed hold of the cloak’s hood, but after taking a couple of small, calming breaths, she refrained from throwing it over her head. There was no way to do so inconspicuously, and any attempt to hide her face now would only draw more suspicion. For now, Rarity decided, she would try and avoid attracting more attention and maybe just leave the speaking to Pendula and Clockworks.

The stallion who had initially approached waved away his whispering acquaintance. His face had been a medley of expressions during those whispers, from that of mild curiosity to intensive study as his eyes fell upon Rarity to confusion and finally to annoyance as the whispers in his ear continued on a tad too long. The stallion’s gaze alternated between her, Pendula, and Clockworks as he struggled to decide on who to address. “Um, sorry. Didn’t quite catch all that. Is everypony alright then? I think got that much.”

“Maybe,” Clockworks grunted. With some help from his daughters, the old stallion climbed down from the cart and stepped forward. “Who’s asking?”

The crowd stirred, roused by the display of rudeness. The stallion who had approached narrowed his eyes into a glare. “Friend, I don’t know why you’ve got such a chip on your shoulder, but if you’re just going to cause trouble the minute you step into our town, maybe you should turn that wagon of yours around and go back to wherever you came from.”

Some in the audience nodded and cheered their agreement. Clockworks’s face reddened, and his legs shook. He opened his mouth to respond, but Pendula, having freed herself from the cart’s harness, stopped him with a touch on his shoulder, a firm shake of her head, and a frightened expression.

Rarity sighed as she removed herself from the cart as well and stepped between the two glaring stallions. So much for staying in the background. “I am so sorry for my companion’s behavior,” she said to the local. “I won’t ask you to excuse him, but please understand that we’ve been on the road for a good while now, and you’re the first ponies we’ve encountered all week. We’re all in a bit of shock, not to mention very tired from walking all day and also panicking over the possibility of being out there in the open during the night,” Rarity rambled on with a small wave, a little giggle, and a subtle flip of her mane as she brushed it back. “Pardon me, this is all just a long way of saying he’s not himself right now, what with the exhaustion and the stress and everything.”

The stallion’s expression softened, and he returned the small smile Rarity had given him. “Well, I guess I can understand that,” he said, removing his hat and scratching his head. “Explains why you all were charging into town like a bat out of Hades. Wouldn’t want to be out there myself.” He put the hat back on. “So where are you folk from?”

“That’s none of your—“

“East.” This time, Pendula was the one to speak. “We’re from east.”

“East, huh?” The stallion let out a low whistle as a collective gasp rang through the crowd. “Didn’t think there was anypony still out that way. Is it, uh.” He swallowed. “Is it as bad as they say it is?”

After a hesitant moment, Pendula nodded, and the crowd’s chatter became louder and more animated. Some ponies appeared to have begun arguing, and many had replaced their curious looks with ones of concern. A few of the ponies in white robes caught Rarity’s attention with their wild gesticulations as they exhorted the ponies around them, and of those spirited few, Rarity noticed that none of them appeared all too worried, and the fearful expressions of some of their listeners, particularly of the ones also robed in white, had faded.

One robed pony stepped up to the stallion who had initially approached the cart, and after brushing aside the attempts of the stallion’s companions to keep him back, he began to speak softly into his ear. About what, Rarity couldn’t be sure, but if there was a chance it involved the fates of her and her fellow travelers, she couldn’t risk the town’s decision relying on a couple of whispers. She had to be the one controlling the conversation, and so with an exaggerated clearing of her throat, Rarity interrupted and stole the attention of the crowd.

“Sir, please,” she said, addressing the stallion currently acting as the town’s representative, “we’re just looking for a place to stay for the night. We won’t be any trouble, we promise, and we’ll be gone in the morning. That’s all we ask of you. Please, there is foal with us.”

Everypony followed Rarity’s gesture toward the wagon. It took Minutiae a while to notice that the crowd had turned to her, and by the time she ducked down to hide, it was too late. “Shucks.” The stallion in the front took off his hat again. “I mean, yeah, that’s not a problem. I’m sure Ms. Innskeeper would love getting some actual business. She’s the innkeeper, by the way, though these days it’s mostly just a tavern. She actually has the recipe that put Bakersfield on the map. Er, when it was on the map. Goes great with her potato soup.”

The robed pony suddenly took a step forward. “And if you haven’t the coin, I am certain we can find you room in our temple,” she offered.

Clockworks’s ears perked up. “You’re saying it’s free?”

The mare in the white robes smiled. “Well, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of an arrangement.”

The old stallion snorted and settled back. “Figures,” he said, but at least he had the sense to do so quietly.

“Why don’t we see the inn first?” suggested Rarity. “It has been some time since we last had a hot meal.” The others nodded, even Clockworks agreed, and she turned back to the local. “You mentioned soup, yes?”

“Soup, fresh bread, baked potatoes,” the stallion listed. “It’s, uh, nothing too special, but yeah, it’ll be hot. Not sure if there’ll be room for your cart there though, you’ll have to ask Ms. Innskeeper.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Rarity said. “Now which way to the inn?”

“You want to head back that way,” the stallion instructed, pointing them to the entrance of the town. “There’ll be this wood cutout of a bed right above the door. It’s pretty hard to miss if you keep an eye out. I’d take you there myself, but.” He rubbed his neck. “I haven’t exactly kept a tidy tab there and don’t want my missus making any assumptions.”

“That’s quite alright.” Rarity smiled. “You’ve been so much help already, we can’t thank you enough.”

“Hey, not a problem, miss. Just keep this one in check, alright?” The stallion motioned to Clockworks who grumbled to himself and kicked at the dirt. “We really don’t need the extra trouble.”

“Of course. And again, thank you so much.”

The stallion gave one final nod before he and the rest of his companions melted back into the crowd. As Rarity and Pendula returned to the wagon’s harness, their audience shrunk. The gathered townsfolk had begun to losing interest and many were returning to their nightly rituals. Several were even walking in the direction where the inn was apparently located. By the time Rarity and the rest of the group were ready to move, only a couple of gawkers were still around to watch.

“Come down from there, Minutiae,” Pendula ordered. “Ride’s over, you can walk the rest of the way.”

“Fine,” Minutiae said with an annoyed sigh, and she jumped down from the cart. She walked beside her father, leading the way with Rarity, Pendula, and the cart trailing closely behind. As they walked, Rarity took the opportunity, now that they weren’t in a hysterical hurry, to better observe the town and what it had to offer. The settlement appeared to be organized into two long rows of buildings that ran along the length of the road, which was wide enough for several ponies to use comfortably at a time. The road was smooth from the regular traffic and was missing both the overgrown weeds and the scattered pieces of scrap wood and stone that covered the streets of the other towns they had visited, making the guiding of their laden cart a much simpler affair.

Regarding the structures themselves, there was a noticeable lack of ruined buildings, of houses with boarded up windows and broken doors and missing walls, as one would expect given the presence of actual inhabitants who could care for the upkeep their homes. The buildings were largely made of timber with the corners supported with columns of brick and cut stone, similar to what they had seen in the smaller settlements they had stopped in. Signs that distinguished the shops from the residences and from one another were at worst a little dusty and could easily be seen by the light of the many lanterns hung at the entrances, though much like in the previous towns the display windows were mostly empty.

And of course there were the actual ponies, the most distinctive feature of the town. The initial crowd that had greeted them had been a decent representation of the town’s population, with mostly earth pony stallions in work vest and farm hats along with a smaller number of mares in simple frontier style dresses and bonnets. There were also a few of those ponies with the white robes around, and as they continued toward the town’s entrance, Rarity noticed that there were also several ponies wearing padded barding and an assortment of protective headgear ranging from sporting helmets to pots and pans tied in place with rope. A few had spears, but most were armed with farming implements like pitchforks and shovels and wood axes, and there were even several with sticks that just had a kitchen knife attached to an end. A militia, Rarity recognized, and not a very well coordinated one by the looks of it, with members scattered haphazardly about and wandering aimlessly.

A pair of such ponies suddenly burst out into the streets, chortling and singing as they stumbled out of a building that had a carving of a made bed over its doorway. “This must be the place,” Clockworks announced as Rarity watched another armed stallion approach his fellows and tell them off. “Minutiae, stay here and watch the cart with, uh, hm.” He turned to Rarity and frowned. “Don’t think we ever got your name. That ranger or whatever she was, she kept saying it wasn’t our business.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to—“

“Well, no matter,” Clockworks continued on. “You and Minutiae keep an eye on the cart while Pendula and me get us some boarding and maybe figure out if they’ve got some place to keep our stuff. And watch it carefully,” he added, glaring at a couple walking by. “I don’t trust this place. It’s too, rustic. Too small.” He started toward the door but was stopped by Pendula.

“Father, why don’t you stay with the cart, and I’ll go with her instead,” Pendula proposed with a nod to Rarity.

“What? Why?”

“Well, we all saw her back there with the crowd. I’d say she’s easily the most well spoken of us, and if we’re trying to secure lodging, she might be the best pony to be sending in there.”

“Are you serious? Pendula, it’s me, your father, the owner of the best clock shop in all of Trotlen—“

“The only clock shop in Trotlen,” mumbled Minutiae.

“—and I would not have that position if it weren’t for my impeccable customer service and pony skills,” Clockworks finished, pounding his chest proudly.

“Yes, but all you’ve done so far is pick fights with the locals,” Pendula argued. “You’ve haven’t exactly done anything to endear yourself.”

“So what?” Clockworks said. “What, you really think I’ve already got some sort of reputation? Please, don’t be silly.”

“Mommy, look! It’s the grumpy old pony who didn’t have his nap.”

“Don’t point, sweetie. Just because he was rude doesn’t mean we should be.”

Clockworks turned to glower at the ponies who had spoken, but with how many ponies there were on the streets staring or pointing at him, he had no way of confirming the source of his verbal ridicule. “Fine, I suppose we’ll leave the talking to you,” he conceded, jabbing a hoof at Rarity. “But I’m going with you, make sure you aren’t being fleeced or anything.”

“Very well,” Rarity said with a small sigh. She turned to Pendula and Minutiae. “As long as nopony else has any problems with this arrangement.” The two shook their heads, and with that, Rarity and Clockworks stepped onto the building’s porch, pushed opened the door beneath the image of the bed, and went inside.

Oil lamps hung on walls decorated with peeling flowery patterns bathed the room and all of the patrons in a warm light, slightly tinted red from the color of the lampshades. The establishment was crowded, with several packed tables between them and the empty counter in the back of the room. A hallway at the side led further into the building where additional reveling could be heard. Laughters and yells filled whatever space wasn’t occupied by bodies as the rowdier stallions and mares pounded their hooves and mugs impatiently against their tables. A few ponies spared glances at the two as they brushed by and made their way to the counter, but most were too preoccupied with their plates and bowls and mugs to pay them much heed.

The scent of something warm and filling reached Rarity’s nostrils, and after so many days of preserved, largely tasteless meals, even a lady with all of Rarity’s grace and poise couldn’t help but have her mouth water at least a little. She forced down the gathering saliva and hurried on, leading the way through the labyrinth of tables and ponies until they finally reached the receptionist area. All that was there to greet them, however, was a silver service bell on the surface of the counter and a wall of empty key hooks.

Rarity peeked around, looking for some clue that somepony worked here, maybe a sign explaining their absence that had fallen or some personal decorative knickknacks. With a scoff at Rarity’s fruitless search, Clockworks stepped up and slammed down onto the service bell. A second ring followed the first, and soon there was a continuous ring resonating through the building, competing with the hearty conversations of the clientele. Some ponies nearby turned to stare at the growing annoyance, but Clockworks continued banging away, ignoring the looks they and Rarity were giving him.

“Alright, alright! I heard you the first time. Knock it off,” somepony, a mare by the sound of it, said. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Two seconds after, a mare, maybe a little older than Rarity’s mother if the gray strands in her blond mane were of any indication, approached them. She wore a stained apron over her front and had her mane tied back with a bandanna. On her back was a tray with used dishes and mugs piled high.

“Look, if you want something to eat or drink, find a table and flag down one of the girls that don’t look as busy,” the mare said before either Rarity or Clockworks could open their mouths to speak. “There are more tables in the tavern proper. Now if you lot’ll excuse me.” She started to turn.

“Actually, ma’am,” Rarity said, “we were looking to get a room for the night. If there are any available,” she added, looking to the keyless hooks on the wall.

The mare stopped. “Wait, you’re looking for a room? Here, to stay in? As in, for lodging?”

“Well, we were told this is an inn. Were we mistaken?”

“Oh no, not at all. Just, let me leave these here.” The mare put the tray of dirty bowls and plates down and went behind the counter. “Yeah, this is the inn, but we haven’t had any actual visitors in forever. Not since that old trade route shut down, anyways. We’ve just been using the rooms these days to hold the ponies who’ve had too much to drink, but yeah, we’ve got rooms.” She returned to the countertop with a box and a smile. “I’m Ms. Innskeeper, by the way, the owner. Now, that’s a room for...”

The mare paused, giving Rarity an odd look. “Um, oh.” She chuckled. “For a second there, I thought Her Highness was here in my inn. Heh, anypony ever tell you you look an awful lot like the princess?”

“Er, yes. I have heard that.”

“Well, anyways, that’ll be two rooms.” The mare pulled out two brass keys from the box and placed them in front of them. “Or would you prefer to be in the same room? We can bring out an extra cot if you’d like.”

“There are four of us, actually. And we also need some place to keep our cart, if such space is available.”

“Alrighty then, that’s not a problem. Why don’t we take care of your cart first?” The mare ducked back behind the counter. “The barn we used to keep the travelers’ wagons and such in is a little cluttered at the moment, what with all the extra junk we’ve been storing in it, so we’ll have to move a couple of things first.”

“And it’s secure?” Clockworks asked. “You guarantee that it and all its contents won’t be tampered with?”

“I mean, you’ll get your own stable and your own padlock.” The mare got back up and placed a large, rusty lock next to the room keys. “We haven’t had any thefts or anything before, but if you’ve got valuables, you’re probably better off keeping anything shiny with you. And speaking of shiny.” She tapped her hooves together and placed them over the keys and the lock. “I’m going to need to see some coin before we continue. This is a business after all.”

“Of course.” Rarity started feeling for the purse in her saddlebag.

“Hold on,” Clockworks said, holding up a hoof. “Let’s talk pricing before we go and show the world all we’ve got. How much is this going to cost us?”

“It’s a gold piece per room, plus fifteen silvers to hold your cart,” the mare said. “Meals are separate, but if you decide to stay, we can work out a discount.”

“Fifteen?” Clockworks jerked back, as if the mare had jumped at him with teeth barred. “Just so you can shove our cart in some dusty shed? And you can’t even be sure it won’t get damaged or be stolen. No ma’am, we won’t be paying a copper over five silver. Who came up with that price? Where’s the owner? I ought to give them a piece of my mind.”

“I’m the owner. I came up with the price,” the mare responded, frowning. “I might be willing to knock a couple of silvers off of the first room since you all are my first actual lodgers in a good long while, but barn space is fifteen silvers and not one less.”

“That’s robbery. If these are your prices, no wonder nopony comes to stay,” Clockworks snorted. “Eight silvers for the barn, else we walk. I’m sure we can find some place more accommodating.”

The inn owner smirked and shook her head. “This is the only place in town, pal. You want somewhere to stash your cart, it’s going to be fifteen silvers.”

“Heard there’s some sort of temple that’s got room. Maybe we’ll try there, unless, of course—“ The stallion leaned over the with an elbow on the countertop. “—you can lower that price to a gold piece.”

“Ha! Yeah, if you can stand those crazy cultists, then have fun sleeping on the cold, hard floor, and even then you’ll still need somewhere to keep your cart. Fifteen silvers.”

Rarity coughed loudly. “Perhaps we could—“

“Alright, so how about a gold piece and two silvers?” Clockworks continued on, giving Rarity a silencing glare and motioning her to step back. “Come on, you really think you’re going to get a better deal than that?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Fifteen silver pieces.”

“One gold, three silvers.”

“Fifteen.”

“One gold, four silvers. And five, no, six copper pieces! Final offer, you’re not getting a better deal than that.”

The mare raised an eyebrow. “Fift—“

“Eight coppers!”

The mare sighed and slammed her face into her hooves. “Alright, fine, the barn space is yours for fourteen silver pieces and nine coppers. Take it or leave, your choice.”

“Ho ho, excellent.” Clockworks smiled triumphantly. “I knew we’d see reason eventually.” He reached into his pack, and after a bit of rummaging, he frowned. “Hm, odd. Must have left my coin purse in the cart or something. No, wait, I left it with Pendula.” He groaned and, with a grimace, he turned to Rarity. “Hate to ask of this, but you mind taking care of this this time? Don’t worry, we’ll work something out later, let’s just deal with this first.”

As long as it’s not another clock Rarity thought to herself with a roll of her eyes. She pulled out her wallet and looked into her assortment of coins. Only now did her unfamiliarity to Spiketopia’s foreign new currency dawn upon her. The golden coins had some similarities to the bits of Equestria, them being both gold and round, but the silver and copper ones were completely novel. They clearly all had some value, if she could make any assumptions based on Clockworks’ bargaining attempt, and if Rarity had to hazard a guess, she’d say that the value was in accordance to the value of the coin’s metal, with the gold pieces being the most valuable, followed by the silver, then the copper.

But then, how many coppers was equivalent to a silver? To a gold? Were the exchange rates proportional or did they vary between the kinds of coins? “Well?” Clockworks said suddenly, completely ignorant of Rarity’s struggle as he peered over her shoulder. “What’s the problem? I know you’ve got enough on you. Look, I told you, I’ll pay you back, so don’t worry about that.”

“Right, right. Just, ah.” Rarity removed two gold coins and set them before the mare. “Will this be enough?”

“Plenty,” the mare answered, sliding the coins to her side. “You want your change now, or would you rather use it to start paying for your rooms?“

Rarity thought for a moment, then asked, “Is there enough to pay for a warm meal for four ponies?”

“Yeah, sure.” The mare pushed the lock toward her and Clockworks and started making her way back around to them. “Why don’t one of you find an empty table and place an order while I take the other to the barn and get that cart of yours all settled in? We can discuss rooms after, they’re not going anywhere.”

“Hmph.” Clockworks swept up the padlock. “Fine by me. Let’s go.”

“There are more tables in the back, that way,” the inn owner said, pointing to the hallway at the side. “It’s a little louder in the tavern area, but service‘ll be faster, it being closer to the kitchen and all.”

Rarity nodded, and as she started toward that direction, Clockworks and the inn owner made there way past the merry patrons that shouted and waved at the mare as she walked by, to the inn’s entrance. There were a couple of tables to greet her in the hall, and Rarity had to press herself against the wall to make room for a waitress carrying a full platter, but eventually she managed to get through the hall and step into the cacophony that was a good old fashioned tavern.

13. The Tithes That Bind

The Tithes That Bind

Rarity’s exposure to such establishments had only been through the descriptions in mystery novels, where ne’er-do-wells hung around nursing fancy juices until they were shook down for information. Ponyville had seen little need for a tavern, what with there already being plenty of meeting spots and a tight control on the flow of cider, and though she had seen bars on the streets of Manehattan and Canterlot, Rarity could never find the time nor muster the necessary curiosity to visit.

As her ears flattened against her head from the noise, Rarity wasn’t sure she’d go for a second experience. The place was only about half filled, with several open tables remaining, but what the ponies here lacked in numbers they made up in volume. Loud cheering there by a group making a toast, angry exclamations here from a bunch of card players, and laughs and calls for service in all directions as mares in aprons bustled by and shouted their responses. Dancers of varying proficiencies, from the rhythmless and uncoordinated to those who could rivaled Twilight in a competition for the most unique moves, demonstrated their skills in an open space before a lyre player barely audible over the din of her audience. The front lobby had been a posh garden soirée compared to the Pinkie Pie party that was here.

Rarity took a seat at the cleanest table furthest from the crowd, in a corner of the room. She doubted Clockworks and his family would appreciate the noise anymore than she did, and at least here she was able to hear her own thoughts. There was, however, an issue of receiving service from this position as the wandering waitress naturally orbited around the busier areas where much of their attention was being demanded.

“Be right with you, ma’am!” one of the mares called out to her as Rarity tried to wave her over. Rarity lowered her hoof. Well, as long as somepony acknowledged her and knew she was here. At least the musician was close enough to listen to while she waited. It wasn’t the perfect view, but Rarity watched the mare strummed the strings of her instrument. Despite the crowd and its noise, there was a clear melody to be enjoyed, a fast and cheery tune that roused the ponies on the dance floor and incited those watching to stomp along. Even Rarity suddenly found herself tapping away to the musician’s beat. The lyre was a rare and difficult instrument, and to be able to play something so energetic and fast paced in such a distracting environment suggested an impressive mastery.

And then there was the musician herself. Watching the mare work was nearly as captivating as her music. Her hoof brushed past those strings so smoothly, with no wasted or exaggerated movements. Her expression was calm with no sign of exertion or even focused concentration, as if making her lyre sing was as innate as breathing. Under a tiny feathered cap, the curls of her orange mane bounced with each pluck and wave. The edges of her lips lifted slightly into a small smile as her tempo slowed and shifted from the rambunctious anthem of a hoedown to that of something gentler, like one might hear during a ballroom intermission. Nopony seemed to mind; the dancers didn’t seem to notice and continued their frantic jumping and flailing even as the rest of the world slowed.

The musician’s eyes opened, and they met with Rarity’s. Rarity’s mouth grew dry, and her breathing quickened. Her heartbeat picked up as their gazes held. The mare’s lips parted, giving way to her voice as it introduced itself into the performance, adding the final touches to it that Rarity had no idea were missing. The tavern had gone quiet, the conversations and arguments muted in the presence of the musician’s angelic vocals. Whatever those lyrics were, whatever they meant, that didn’t matter. She could’ve sung through entries from a dictionary, could’ve insulted each and every member of her audience in a hymn, and the world would have still begged for an encore. And she, the source of such euphonious beauty, was staring directly at her, focusing on her with those dark green eyes that were like jade. Playing to her with a skill that would make the greatest string masters in Equestria weep in inadequacy. Singing to her in that wondrous voice that could have only come from the highest of—

“Ma’am?”

Rarity blinked. The harsh clamor of the tavern was back, drowning out most of the musician’s act. The mare was no longer singing and had returned to the earlier dance number, her face toward the stomping crowd. For a brief moment, Rarity felt an odd sense of disappointment that she couldn’t explain, but it soon faded, and she turned to the serving mare waiting on her.

“So, what’ll be?” asked the mare in the apron before her. “You, uh, new in town?”

Rarity nodded. Her throat was still dry, and she had to clear it with a cough. “I’m sorry. Could we start with some water?”

The waitress stared. “I, think? Probably? If not, will spiced cider do? We can warm it up if you like.”

“I suppose. And do you have any warm bread?”

“Can do. You want any cheese or potato soup with that. We might still have some baked taters and mash left, Horshire’s speciality.”

Rarity took a moment to consider. As tempted as she was to indulge herself, as starved as she was for something other than dried travel rations, Rarity had to make sure her funds would last her to and through Baldursgait. “Let’s start with a loaf of bread and four bowls of soup. All warmed up, please.”

“Of course,” the waitress said. “So that’ll be one cider, one loaf of bread, and four soups. Expecting company?”

Rarity nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be back with your order in a bit, and if any of your friends want anything else, just give me or one of the other gals a holler.”

The mare walked off to the side of the room, toward an opening that connected the kitchen area to the rest of the tavern. Rarity sat up and tried to peek through the crowd of carousing ponies to catch any glimpse of her fellow travelers, but her search turn up neither hide nor hair of the family of clock peddlers. Rarity started to worry.

Shouldn’t Pendula and Minutiae have already found their way in here? Or had Clockworks taken them with him and the inn owner to the barn. Well, Pendula was the one still attached to the cart, and given that Rarity had never seen anypony else besides herself drive the cart, it would make sense that Pendula had to go with them. Plus, with there being no way any responsible adult would allowed a young filly like Minutiae to go unaccompanied, Minutiae would’ve obviously gone with them to the barn as well.

Rarity let her worries subside. She wasn’t entirely sure how long it would take to get the cart in place, but Clockworks was probably prolonging the process by being his argumentative, ornery old self. Seeing no real reason for concern, Rarity relaxed and settled down, turning back to the dance floor where the lyre player was performing. A few ponies were still there showing off, but all they had to dance to were the laughs and jeers from their fellows. The musician was still there, but it appeared that she was done for the evening, with her instrument packed and she up and on her hooves.

Then, to Rarity’s surprise, the mare with the lyre made her way to her table. “Is there room for one more,” she asked, her voice as silk smooth and light now as it had been during her performance. If Rarity’s breath hadn’t already been stolen, the smile the musician gave her would have certainly done it.

“N-no, of course not.” Rarity motioned the mare to take a seat. “Please.”

“Thanks.” The mare sat and leaned a foreleg against the table. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Very much so,” answered Rarity, nodding furiously. “I’ve never heard anything so—“

Beautiful? Wonderful? Amazing? Every adjective Rarity could come up with felt lacking. Her tongue, so experienced in the exquisite art of flattery, the sealer to so many difficult sales, had abandoned her, leaving Rarity to wave and wobble with her mouth agape.

The musician giggled. Even that was music. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She hummed and tilted her head to the side. “Are you new to town? I’m sure I’d have remembered you if I’d seen you before. You have some, distinct features. All good, of course.” She tapped her chin as she leaned forward, her grin widening. “Oh yes, all very good.”

“O-oh! Well, th-thank you.” Rarity tore her gaze from the musician and looked around the tavern for her waitress, hopefully with a full tankard. She could really use that drink right about now; the room was getting awfully warm. “Er, sorry. What were we, oh right! Yes, yes I’m new. Just arrived tonight, actually.”

“Ah. Staying long?”

“Just passing through, I’m afraid,” Rarity said with a small, rueful smile. “We’ll be leaving in the morning. My group and I, I mean.”

“Is that right?” The musician sighed. “A pity. For such a quaint little town, Horshire has so much to offer.” She gestured to the tavern around her. “Hm. I know, why don’t I show you around, give you a quick tour?”

“Oh, I’d love to, but.” Rarity bit her lip as her face fell into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I need to wait for my companions, and we have an early start tomorrow, so I can’t afford to stay out too late.”

“The evening is still young, you know. We could catch all of the most interesting sights before it gets much darker. And as for your friends?” The musician chuckled. “You’re all staying here, correct? I’m sure reuniting with your traveling group won’t be all that difficult if that’s the case. I can even arrange to have some rooms set up for all of you if you don’t already have something ready.”

Those were some very compelling points, Rarity had to say. The musician was right, the inn did serve as their rendezvous spot, so meeting the family back here didn’t seem like that big of an issue. There was just the matter of being chewed out by Clockworks afterwards, though perhaps a hot meal and the prospect of a soft bed would mellow the old grouch of a pony out, not to mention the musician’s offer to have rooms prepared for them.

In any case, the lyre player’s company would most certainly be a welcoming change to having to spend any more time with Clockworks. Rarity didn’t know what sights this town had to show, but if it meant spending time with this master of a musician, she’d be a fool to refuse. And after all, what would Twilight and the rest of their circle say if they saw Rarity throw away a perfectly good chance to make a new friend?

“Lead the way,” Rarity said.

The musician smiled, and the two got up from the table and left the tavern area. They made their way through the front lobby and onto the streets outside. Rarity followed her guide down the road lit by the lanterns on the buildings’s doorways, passing by shops and ponies. It had been so long since Rarity had seen ponies out and about at night, she couldn’t help but find it a little odd, as silly as she knew that feeling was. The previous week had instilled or perhaps reinvigorate a primal fear of the dark and night, the same fears that plague her ancestors to the point of shunning the princess who represented those elements.

Thankfully, the hanging lights and visible signs of a nightlife, never mind how minimal, helped alleviate Rarity’s discomfort and return her thinking to that of her normal, modern self. Soon, she was curious to discover what the inhabitants here did when no longer under the watchful sun instead of being mystified.

“And here we are, our first stop,” the musician suddenly announced. Rarity turned to the building she was gestured toward and stared. Her guide sounded so proud when she pointed the place out, but Rarity struggled to determine what was so special about it. From a short glance, the building did not appear any different from all the other shops and residences. Like the other structures, it was of wood with the base and corners supported by stone, and from what Rarity could tell, it wasn’t much larger than its neighbors. There was no sign nor displays in the windows to explain the building’s purpose, and the windows themselves were blocked by curtains, hiding any clues the interior may have had.

From the way the musician was beaming at it, however, the building must have been special. Perhaps it was a historical monument, being of sentimental value to the townsfolk rather than having any tangible purpose. Rarity forced a smile. “It’s, quite nice,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it?” mused the musician. “Hard to imagine this was once an ugly, rundown bank. Well, let’s go.” She gave Rarity a soft nudge forward.

“What, inside?”

“Of course,” the musician said. “Don’t worry, they’re open. I promise you, this is not something you’ll want to miss.”

Rarity felt another nudge urging her onward. For whatever reason, her new friend seemed absolutely adamant in visiting this place properly, and her insistences were quickly coming across as oddly desperate. For a second, Rarity considered suggesting that they go somewhere else first, maybe where there were more ponies around, but it was only for a second. So what if the lyre player seemed a little enthusiastic? Obviously this place meant a lot to her and she just wanted to share it with somepony, Rarity thought as she allowed herself to be led inside.

Unlike the interior of the inn, this building was largely unlit, with only some candles on the tables to provide some dim light. Several of those lights were around a polished wood box with a slot cut into its top at the side of the room. Several ponies wearing white robes like the ones Rarity saw earlier were around attending to the surrounding candles, and some, seeing the presence of visitors, went over to welcome them.

“Yes, yes,” the musician said, cutting off the offered greetings and well-wishes. “Is Mother Shim in right now?”

“She is,” answered one of the robed ponies, “but she is in the middle of preparing for tonight’s sermon and is not to be disturbed.“

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” the musician said, and over the pony’s protests, she led Rarity around a long teller’s counter in the back that was split into sections with a series of gratings that blocked passage over the raised platform, and into a hallway going further into the building they went.

“Where are we going?” Rarity managed to breath out as she was pulled past door after door, room after room.

“Just going meet somepony. Don’t worry, you’ll like them,” the musician assured. “Ah, here we are,” she announced as they approached a door at the very end of the hall. As they drew closer, however, they made no show of slowing, and just as Rarity came to realize what the musician was planning to do, the mare had slammed her shoulder into the door, causing it to swing open and slam loudly against the wall.

A yelp and a second crash followed, and as Rarity followed the musician into the room, she saw that there was another pony in white robes lying on their back beside a writing desk with some scrolls, a feather pen, and a lamp that illuminated the room. They lifted their hood back to better glare at the intruders, revealing themselves to be a mare with plumb cheeks and her orange mane in a tight bun.

“What, what? Can’t you knock?” the mare demanded. Gold chains around her neck jingled against each other as she slowly got back up, and Rarity also noticed that the front of her robes were embroidered with similarly colored symbols. “This had better be important, I’m about to start soon. Is it about—“ Her eyes narrowed at Rarity, and she stopped herself. “Who’s this?”

The musician tutted and gave her head a little shake of disappointment. “Now now, be polite. After all, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

The mare stared with a scowl firmly on her face. Her expression slowly softened as she let out a sigh and turned to Rarity, though Rarity noted that she kept the musician in her view. “My apologies. I wasn’t exactly expecting company to barge in, kicking in my door, so I hope my surprise is at least understandable if my slip in manners can’t be excused.” She released another sigh. “I am Mother Shim, the head of this holy community. And you are?”

“This, dear sister,” the musician said, placing her hooves over Rarity’s shoulders, “is an opportunity. One that might help us reach that breakthrough we so desperately need.”

Mother Shim raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Now it was the musician’s turn to sigh. “Alright, if I really have to spell it out, look,” she said with an exasperated exhale. She released Rarity and made her way to the nun’s side. “See it’s like this,” she began and continued the rest of her explanation as hushed whispers.

Slowly, Mother Shim’s expression turned from one of confusion and skepticism to that of intrigue. “I see,” she muttered, rubbing her chin as she directed her studious gaze at Rarity. “Yes, that could work. And is she already...”

“Oh, most definitely.” The musician turned and smiled. Rarity smiled back.

“Alright then.” Mother Shim waved the whisperer away and stepped forward toward their guest. “Miss, we would like to ask of you a small favor.”

“A favor?”

“I assure you, it’ll be something small, and there won’t be much effort on your part, but if everything is done right, it could greatly benefit not just our organization, but the entire town.” The abbess held out her hoof. “Please, for the town of Horshire.”

Rarity, out of politeness, fought the urge to frown. First she was dragged to here without being any warning or hint about what this place was, and now she was being solicited? She had no idea who these ponies in robes were or what exactly made them so holy, but she doubted that any organization that needed to trick ponies into coming to them truly had the best intentions.

Not that Rarity was in much of a position to be much help anyways, what with she and her traveling party leaving early tomorrow. No, even if Mother Shim and her group proved to be trustworthy, even if their cause was truly for the benefit of the town, Rarity simply didn’t have the time to spare.

“I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to find somepony else. I don’t think I’m the right pony for this job.” Rarity took a step back. “I’ll just be on my way then. Thank you for showing me around.”

“Oh, on the contrary, you’re the perfect little pony for this little task,” the musician exclaimed. She slid over to Rarity and took hold of her foreleg. “In fact, we can’t do this without you. Won’t you reconsider?”

“You, you can’t do this without me? It has to be me?”

“That’s right.” The musician grinned as she tucked a hoof under Rarity’s chin and gently raised her head, forcing their eyes to meet. “Nopony else will do.”

“W-well then.” Rarity swallowed. “If it really isn’t too much trouble, I suppose I can help. I mean, at the very least I’d like to know what exactly I’ll be doing first.”

“Good, good. That’s all we ask.” The musician let Rarity go and returned to Mother Shim’s side. “Shim?”

“Right. Come here, miss,” the abbess called as she went over to the room’s wardrobe, walking over a green and red shag rug in the room’s center, and started to shift through its contents. “This should be around your size,” she said, holding some folded cloth out toward Rarity. “Hm, maybe a little big. Ah well. Here.”

Rarity let the cloth unravel in her hooves. It was a robe, white with the same decorative stitchings as Mother Shim’s.

“Now, all you have to do is wear that and stand next to us,” Mother Shim instructed. “Easy enough, no?”

“Is that it?” Rarity asked, looking down at the robe she held. “I just have to wear this and stand around?”

“And don’t forget to smile,” added the musician as she gave a demonstration and point to her cheeks. “Just give us a nice big smile, yes, just like that. Perfect.”

“Like we said, very little effort on your part.” Shim smiled as well. “So, what do you think? Can you do that for us?”

Again, Rarity stared at the white robe. It was as they said, just a small favor that wouldn’t require much out of her. She couldn’t imagine why they would need her of all ponies for this job or how exactly her standing about while wearing their organization’s uniform would benefit anypony, but even if they hadn’t been entirely truthful about helping the town, Rarity couldn’t see anything nefarious about such doing something so innocuous. If this was all they were asking of her, it wouldn’t hurt to lend a helping hoof.

A nod from the pony who had brought her here was the last push Rarity needed, and without another thought she tossed on the white cloth. Even with her traveler’s cloak and saddlebags on underneath, the robe was still a good half a size too large. The sleeves were baggy, and the hood when pulled over her head covered her eyes and much of her face. “Do you have anything, more to my size?”

“No, no, this is perfect,” Mother Shim declared. Rarity could hear the abbess’s steps as she came forward. “Yes, the surprise will be all the more impactful this way. Now, we should get going. We’ll be starting soon. Sister, do you have enough in you to prepare our other guest?”

“Not tonight,” said the musician. “But we shouldn’t need him, not when we’ve got her.”

Something patted Rarity’s back, the musician she presumed. “He was giving us trouble anyways,” she continued. “This is much better. You’ve got time to rework your speech?”

“No, not really,” Shim said with a loud sigh. “I’ll just have to improvise. Just like old times.”

“Just like old times.” The two shared a chuckle. “Well, come on then,” the musician ordered, directing Rarity with a push. “Let’s get going.”

With her vision obscured, leaving her with only a view of her own front hooves and the small section of ground they occupied, Rarity was left to navigate the dark building based on the verbal instructions of Mother Shim and the musician’s directive touches. They had left the room and made their way through the hall, and after a little time, they made it back to the front lobby.

Even with the hood over her eyes and ears, Rarity could easily tell that a crowd had gathered. Excited mutterings and whispers filled the room in such a way that it threatened to displace the air. Hooves and the ends of white cloth could be spotted stomping and swishing about within her limited, downward line of sight, and Rarity ended up uttering a number of pardons and apologies after several bumps, brushes, and prods. The bodies of ponies crushed against her sides as she tried to follow the hem of what she hoped was Shim’s robe.

As they continued forward, the whispers became more hushed and those accidental encounters became less frequent. The crowd had become less, well, crowded. Rarity saw fewer hooves, and those she saw hurrying out of sight as their owners scurried out of her way. Or more likely, out of Mother Shim’s way, given the mare’s apparent status. Suddenly, Rarity was stopped by a firm grip around her borrowed robes, and Mother Shim’s hem disappeared from her view.

“Wait,” she heard the musician say, along with the rustling of those around her. The whispers had quieted, and shortly after, the room went still. There still a few hisses and hushes here and there, but for the most part, everypony had gone silent. An air of anticipation that was almost palpable had taken the space that the noise had vacated as the crowd waited with breaths held.

“Brothers, sisters, friends of Horshire!” came Mother Shim’s suddenly booming voice. “Welcome to our sanctuary, to this hallowed dwelling of the Great Protector. May they watch over and bestow their blessing upon each and every one of you.”

The crowd stirred and responded with a mix of affirmations.

“We are gathered here tonight to reaffirm the deeds of the Great Protector, to remember the mercy they have shown to our town,” Mother Shim continued on, her voice shaking with conviction and emotion. “For without the Great Protector, this town would have fallen to the same fate of its neighbors. For without the Great Protector, this town would have been abandoned by those who called it home as fear overtook them. Oh, for without the Great Protector, this town would have been conquered, consumed by the great evil that has taken hold of this land. Oh yes, for if it weren’t for the Great Protector and their protection, none of us would be here, free to live the lives we wish, free from the tyranny of the enemy. None of the free creatures of Spiketopia would be able to, and so we who know of our great debt bring praise and glory to our Great Protector.”

“To the Great Protector!” the ponies chanted and stomped.

“One day, all of Spiketopia will know of the Great Protector, but for now we must focus on our home. There are those in this very town who reject the truth.” The crowd started to stir, but when Shim spoke of nothing more, they stilled and became quiet. “I know. I know how much it hurts, watching friends and family, ponies of your own blood, walk in willful ignorance. We have been ridiculed, looked down upon, viewed as less than equals. I know how much it hurts, how much this tests your trust and belief in the Great Protector. I know that there are some of us here with doubts forming in their hearts. I can see that our number has already fallen as a result of the mayor’s own crisis of faith and his embarrassing public denouncement.”

The murmurs restarted, and again they stopped as the gathered ponies waited for Shim to continue. “Those of us who do not suffer from such thoughts are blessed by the Great Protector, and I ask that you do not show anger toward your weaker brothers and sisters in faith. Likewise, be kind to your lost neighbors, to those who have yet to accept the truth, for one day, we shall all be united under the Great Protector’s name. Those who have turned away from the truth will be returned, and those who refuse to see or hear the truth will be forced to open their eyes and ears. Yes, brothers and sisters, that day is coming and coming soon, for the Great Protector’s power is growing, as is the evidence of their wondrous grace. As of tonight, all of Horshire will begin to understand.

“Please come forth, Sister Shmarity!”

The room exploded into loud whispers as Rarity was given a push forward. Slowly, as she kept a cautious eye on her steps, making sure her front hooves stayed within her confined view, Rarity made her way to where she thought Mother Shim stood.

“What did she say?”

“She can’t mean—“

“But, if it’s the Great Protector, then surely...”

The hushed exclamations from the audience weren’t making the navigation of this dark, cramped room any easier, but eventually, Rarity found her way to Mother Shim’s side, though the abbess had to hold out a hoof to stop her. Shim removed the hood covering Rarity’s head and face, and Rarity’s eyes were greeted by the light of so many candles. Rarity tried to shield herself from the sudden glare, but Shim forced her hoof back down, leaving her to blink away until her sight adjusted and she was able to keep her eyes opened while standing so closely to the light sources.

Now that she was so illuminated and her features were no longer contorting in discomfort, Rarity’s face was out and exposed for all in the room to clearly see. Rarity couldn’t make out any individual expressions from the crowd, which she could now see was smaller than she thought, maybe only filling about a third or so of the room, but the ponies here made their shock audible, with cries and shouts of disbelief that reached every corner of the room and so many gasps and even a smattering of shaky, unconfident cheers that more than made up their numbers with volume.

Mother Shim raised her hooves out toward her congregation, but even that seemed to fail to restore order as the ponies in front of her continued their spirited conversations amongst themselves. Shim frowned, and she brought her hoof to her throat.

“Children!” she roared. Rarity winced, and her ears slammed shut against her head. The entire building seemed to shake from the volume of that single shouted word. “Please, listen to me, and all will be explained. Calm yourselves. Still your hearts!”

The crowd, unable to compete with Mother Shim’s powerful voice, became silent and turned their attention to the front as Shim’s plea continued to echo against the walls.

“Thank you,” said Shim at a more moderate volume. “Brothers and sisters, let me explain. You did not hear me wrong, and your eyes do not deceive you. Princess Shmarity does indeed stand before you tonight. I, like you all, had thought the worst when the royal palace fell, that the princess had been lost to us. But look! Here she stands, not as a prisoner to that mighty evil but free, as free as you and I.

“But how is that possible, you may ask.” Mother Shim began to pace along the length of her stage, keeping her face toward her audience. “How? Dear brothers and sisters, you know how, for you know the truth.” Shim stopped to point into the crowd, letting her hoof linger on individual ponies before moving to the next in line. “Yes, it is by the grace of the Great Protector, the same grace that saved this town, that Princess Shmarity is with us, and because of your faith, you are the first to witness her. Give praise to the Great Protector who has saved Princess Shmarity! Let me hear you give praise.”

“Praise! Praise to the Great Protector!” the crowd cheered, stomping out a deafening applause.

“Is her presence here not evidence of the Great Protector’s power?” Mother Shim asked, now gesturing wildly at Rarity. “Those who deny the Great Protector’s grace, who claim that Horshire’s continuation is only a matter of luck, will they also say the same about the princess? Surely not. The time of revelation is upon us. Soon, all of Horshire will see the truth and come to accept the Great Protector as their savior. Soon, all of Spiketopia will know the truth.” Shim turned to one half of the crowd. “My brothers and sisters, are you with me?”

“Yes!” the ponies cheered.

Shim turned to the other half. “Are you for the Great Protector?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the other side.

“Will you help me and the princess spread this wondrous news? Will you help expand the Great Protector’s will and influence?”

“Yes!” came the crowd’s thunderous response.

Shim smiled. She took a couple steps to the side, motioned Rarity to follow, and swung her foreleg behind her, directing the room’s attention to the wooden box with the open top Rarity had seen earlier. “Then come, brothers and sisters! Come and give, so that the glory of the Great Protector may be expanded, so that our safety may remain secure.”

The crowd collapsed on itself as ponies rushed forward. Rarity was pulled out of the way just as the first wave of bodies swept over the stage and Mother Shim. “This way,” she managed to heard the musician say over the shouts and jubilant cries right before being dragged behind the teller’s counter and into the inner hallway.

“That went well,” the musician said cheerfully as she pulled Rarity along and shut the door behind them. “You did a brilliant job out there. We definitely couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose,” Rarity replied. She tried to turn back to the front room, where the muffled sounds of the congregation could still be heard from. “Will Mother Shim be alright?”

“Oh sure. Don’t worry, she lives for this part.” The musician laughed softly. “But enough about her. I want to talk about you.” The two came to a stop as the lyre player twirled around to face Rarity with the biggest grin she’d seen on a pony outside of Pinkie Pie. “You were the star out there.”

“I-it was nothing. I mean, all I did was stand there, like you told me.”

“Yes, but you played that role perfectly,” the musician declared with a little gesture to emphasize. “And like I said, it was something only you could’ve done.”

“I, er, suppose. Well, if that’s everything, I should probably head back to the inn.”

“Hm? Oh, right. So soon?”

Rarity nodded and gave a sad smile. It had been nice, helping her new friends and the town, but she still had other obligations. “It is getting rather late, and I do have an early morning tomorrow. Not to mention, I’ve must have worried my traveling companions with my absence, and the sooner I explain that away the better.”

“Yes yes, all understandable, but do you really think going out right now is such a good idea?” The musician pointed to the door that led to front room and, subsequently, the exit to the building. “I mean, right now there’s an army of fanatics out there that think you are the princess. At their state, they’ll tear you to shreds or who knows what in their zeal.” She shook her head. “No, you’re better off staying here for the night, just to be safe.”

“But, my companions, they—

“Don’t worry, I let them know you’re safe, and you can just rejoin them in the morning,” the musician assured as she ushered Rarity along to a stairway behind one of the hall’s side doors. Lanterns on the wall led the way down to a section beneath the first floor where several crates and some spare cleaning supplies were held. The musician removed one of the lights and took it with her as she brought Rarity to the very back of the room.

They stopped in front of a set of closed doors. “Here, hold this,” the musician instructed, giving the lantern to Rarity while digging her spare hoof through the pockets of her shirt. She pulled out a key ring, and after unlocking the doors, the musician pushed her way in. “Come on, right this way,” she said, holding the door open for Rarity.

This next room was smaller than the previous one. There were a few boxes and barrels here as well, but most of the available space had been sectioned off by a wall of hardened cement, solid save for a long window blocked off by vertical metal bars as well as a large hinged gate made of iron that prevented any further access.

Through the barred window, Rarity spotted a figure hunched over and shivering in a corner. At the sound of their steps, she saw the figure raise their head and ears.

“This is where they kept the gold and such back when this place was a bank,” the musician explained. “It was empty by the time we took over, but it’s still in pretty good shape, and we’ve been keeping our most valued here. For their safety. You’ll, er, be having a roommate, hope that’s not too much of a problem.”

“I, suppose that’ll be alright,” Rarity said slowly. “Is this, truly necessary? I don’t mean to suggest anything, the room is lovely and all, and I don’t mean to question your judgement, but—“

“Good, good,” grunted the musician as she removed the gate’s heavy latch and looked through her ring of keys. “Here we go.”

There was a series of clicks followed by the creaking sound of turning gears as the metal gate slowly swung open. The figure charged toward the opening entrance, but before Rarity could shout out a warning, the figure yelled out and fell back as the musician pulled out a dagger from her sleeved and smashed the hilt into their face.

The musician sighed. “Stubborn old fool,” she said, shaking her head and turning to Rarity. “Sorry you had to see that, but don’t worry. He’ll behave after that.” She stepped to the side, making room for Rarity. “Well, go on and get yourself situated.”

Rarity did as instructed and stepped inside. The room was bare, with only a single cot to be found and an odd bucket in the corner. The floor was just as hard and as cold as the surrounding concrete walls, and the dull gray color of it all left the area with a drab, depressing appearance. She turned to face the musician just as the door closed shut and the locks clicked into place. The musician reappeared through the window, and with a bright smile, she said, “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll find you your own bedding. Let me also get you some supper, too. You must be feeling hungry right around now, huh?”

Rarity smiled, and as she started to nod, the temperature started to drop. Her blood turned cold and her stomach twisted at the sight of that grinning mare on the other side of the bars. Rarity’s body shook at that smug, mocking, haughty expression. Her own smile faded and became a snarl as she rushed to the window and slammed herself against the unmoving, metal rails that stood between her and the musician.

14. Poisoned Words

Poisoned Words

“Whoops.” The musician smirked. “Guess that finally wore off. Ah well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“You,” Rarity hissed. Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how you did that to me, but when I get out, I’ll, I’ll...”

“Yes, yes, make me regret all my life choices and rue the day I was born and all that,” the musician said. She raised a hoof to her mouth and mimicked a yawn. “Ooh, scary. Look, miss.” She walked right up to window and stared directly back at Rarity, all while still smiling. “I’m just using my talents to make a living. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?“

“By bewitching ponies and forcing them to do your will? Of course there is, you, you crook. Swindler! Con artist! Cheat!” Rarity shouted, shaking as she held to the bars. “You’re no better than a thief or a street thug.”

“Hm, seems like you’re taking this a little personally.” The musician shook her head. “Why don’t you take some time to calm down while I go get you some food, and maybe by the time I get back, you’ll be ready to discuss this like a proper lady.”

“There’s nothing to discuss here, unless it’s about letting me go and giving me the most heart-felt apology you can muster. Don’t you dare walk away from me. I’m not finished with—“

The door slammed shut behind the musician as she left the room, and the place went dark. Rarity continued to stand there on her hind hooves and glare, supported by the bars in the window and her own righteous anger until her legs finally gave way. She slid down and collapsed to knees, still muttering out indignations at the mare who had brought her here when she noticed the shadow looming over her.

“Did she say something about food?”

Rarity let out a scream, and the figure quickly backed away with their hooves held up and in the open. “Whoa. Sorry,” they said. “Didn’t mean scare you.

The figure stepped into view. It took Rarity a little time to distinguish all the details from the shadows, but her eyes soon got used to the lack of light and managed to discover the scruffy, unkempt stallion before her. “How you doing, miss?” he said, extending out a hoof. “Name’s Burgo Masters, mayor of Horshire.”

Rarity shook the hoof and winced as his grease and sweat soaked into her own fur. “A pleasure. I’m, a traveler,” she answered him with a brief pause. “Just passing through town.”

“Oh yeah? Gosh, what a load of rotten luck.” The stallion exhaled loudly. “First visitor Horshire’s gotten in a good long while, and you end up in here. You from Stallmire? Iriaebronc?”

“Trot, er, Trotlen. Yes, Trotlen.”

“From the east? No kidding?” The stallion gave a low whistle. “Haven’t seen any refugees from there come in for several moons at least. I had figured that half of Spiketopia had long been abandoned.”

Something in the cell, something with them, growled. The stallion chuckled and rubbed the back of his head as an alarmed Rarity frantically looked around for the beast. “Sorry, that was me,” he said patting his belly. “I haven’t eaten in a couple of days. The bard, she mentioned food, right?”

“They’ve been starving you? Why? What are they planning?”

The stallion shrugged. “Don’t know. It might be to wear me down, make it easier to get me back under their control.” His hoarse laugh echoed against the walls of their cell. “Been showing a bit of a resistance against that charm spell of theirs, see, and those two didn’t even notice. Almost managed to expose their entire operation too, which is why I’m locked up in here.” The stallion sighed and wandered off to the back wall and leaned against it. “So, why’d they lock up some traveler passing through? Your personal struggles from out east not meshing well with the ‘Great Protector’s’ message?”

“Well, from what I can gather,” Rarity began, speaking slowly as she determined just how much she wanted to reveal about herself and her situation. Her very recent experience of being magically manipulated hadn’t left her in much of a trusting mood. Still, Burgo Masters has been straightforward with her, as far as she could tell at least, and even if this was a trick and the stallion had some antagonistic intentions, what was the worst he could do? Tell Mother Shim and that musician their own plan?

“It seems like they’re trying to expand their influence over the town by making me pretend to be Princess Shmarity.”

“What? That’s their plan? Everypony knows the princess is trapped by the Squid Wizard. Who’d be so stupid to fall for, actually, hm.” Burgo Masters got up and leaned forward, forcing Rarity to back up as the stallion studied her. “Actually, yeah, I guess I can see that working,” he said, stroking his beard. “Anypony ever tell you that you look a lot like Her Highness?”

Rarity rolled her eyes and was about to give her tired response when the door to the room opened, and through the cell’s window, they watched Mother Shim and the musician saunter in with a full tray and a lit candle.

Burgo sniffed at the air and rushed to the bars with saliva dripping from his lips. “Food.”

Mother Shim smiled. “Indeed, Mr. Mayor. Potato soup from the inn.” She turned to Rarity. “The town’s specialty. Such a simple dish, and yet, well, why don’t I just let you find out for yourself. Sister, the door.”

The musician drew her dagger and held it up to the window for everypony inside to see. “No funny business now. Wouldn’t want to mar that pretty little face of yours.”

She left their view, and after a short moment, there was a click, and the door to the vault slowly creaked open. The tray, which had a couple of bowls, a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a candle, was pushed inside. Before the door was complete shut, the stallion pushed past Rarity and dove onto the tray, tearing into the bread and slurping up the bowl’s contents without any regard to the provided utensils or the disgusted looks the surrounding mares were making at him.

“So,” Shim said over Burgo’s eating. “We have some things we’d like to discuss.”

“Not interested,” Burgo Masters grunted.

“Of course not, we already know your answer.” Shim sighed and looked to Rarity. “Stallions, always so stubborn and so narrow minded, can’t ever see past their own nose.”

“If this isn’t about letting us go free, then I agree with the mayor,” Rarity declared, glaring at the plump, older mare. “There’s nothing more for us to discuss here.”

“I’m sorry you feel so,” Shim said. She took a seat on floor right in front of Rarity. “You’re upset, that’s completely understandable, even reasonable. All I ask of you right now is that you hear me out, and after that, we might be able to arrange your freedom.“

“How do I know you won’t just put me under another spell?”

At Rarity’s question, Mother Shim turned to the musician who had taken her place against the wall. Shim nodded, and with a sigh the musician started toward the room’s exit.

“Oh, and you could lay off all that scary glaring?” she said over her shoulder. “We wouldn’t want you to get any nasty wrinkles.”

The door closed behind her. “There,” Shim said. “You have nothing to worry about now. My sister is the one with all of the charm abilities. My proficiencies lie elsewhere. You can confirm with the mayor if you so like.” She motioned the stallion still hunched over the tray. “Now, may I speak?”

Rarity frowned. Even without any magical assistance, she was sure that Shim was an expert manipulator and that nothing that came out of her mouth could be readily trusted. Part of her wanted her gone, just like the musician, but there was also another part of her that was curious to hear what the mare had to say, if only to confirm her own suspicions and theories. Perhaps she’d slip up and reveal something useful, something that might help her escape. Unlikely, sure, but Shim was still just a pony, and ponies, no matter how cunning or careful, could make mistakes, and at the end of this exchange, Rarity had nothing to lose.

“Very well,” Rarity said. “Despite how little you deserve this chance, I’ll allow an explanation. Speak.”

“Thank you.” Shim smiled and politely bowed her head toward Rarity. “Now, where to begin?” she said as she raised her head. “Do you remember what I said when I made our little request? That part about this all being for the good of the town?”

“Yes, I remember your lies.”

Shim chuckled. “You say that, but the thing is, I’ve actually been completely honest with you.” She got up and started to march across the length of the room, making sure to keep in Rarity’s view. “Not a single thing I said to you has been a lie. We told you it was a simple job we needed you to do, and it was. We said it was something only you could do, and, well, besides the princess herself, nopony else could’ve done a better job. We said all that required was for you to just stand there, and that’s all we had you do.“

Shim stopped and turned to Rarity. “And all I said about this being being as much to the town’s benefits as mine and my sister’s?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh yes.” Shim smiled and nodded. “That was the honest truth.”

Rarity laugh out a loud, mirthless bark of laugh. It was the only acceptable response she could come up with. “Oh, excuse me, please. What kind of world are you from where tricking the town’s ponies out of their money is considered helping them?”

“How indeed.” Mother Shim resumed her pacing. “ The ponies of Horshire are dead. Yes, they walk around, eating and drinking and breathing, but they do so without any purpose. Ever since the collapse of the trade route, they have been without hope or any sense of a better future, and they go through the motions of life because that’s all they can do to distract them from the awful truth. That they have nothing to live for.

“But we have given the ponies here something to live for. We have given them direction, a goal to thrive for, and perhaps most importantly, something they can believe in,” Mother Shim said, rushing to the window. “Our means may not have been the most savory, but we have given Horshire hope, and in the current state of the world, isn’t that what we all need the most?”

“But it’s a lie.”

Shim’s smile wavered slightly. “Pardon?”

“It’s a lie,” Rarity said, staring directly at Shim. “You have your followers believing a deception, and even if I were to accept what you said as your true intentions, I would refuse to help. Having everypony place their faith into something you just made up will only hurt them, and I will have no part in such a reckless, immoral scheme.”

Shim frowned. “You would rather this town be without any hope at all?”

Rarity met Shim’s glare. “They have their family and their friends. As long as the town’s ponies have each other, they have more hope and purpose than you could ever dream of offering.”

The two mares stared at each other in silence. Even the slurping and munching from Burgo Masters had been quieted. It could’ve been seconds or it could’ve been minutes before either made a move or a sound. In the end, Shim was the first to look away, and she did so with a tired sigh. She brought a hoof to her forehead and rubbed the space between her eyes.

“Let’s try a different approach, then,” she said. “Look, you’re a smart mare. Naive, idealistic, but not stupid. I know you saw how willing the ponies here are to pay for our guidance, and I’m certain I don’t need to explain just how useful you can be. Help us solidify our control over this town, and I promise you, you will have a share in the bounty.”

Shim stepped forward. She wrapped one of her necklaces around her hoof and held it up for Rarity to see. The gold chain links chimed against each other as they gleamed and shone by the light of the candle.

“Think about it, having an entire town of ponies worship you, showering you with gifts, making sure you’re never in want. You’ll live the rest of your days in comfort, like a real princess, and all you’ll have to do is stand around and play a little pretend.”

Rarity regard the offer and the presented jewelry with visible distain in her features. “Get that gaudy thing out of my sight. If this is your best attempt at persuasion, it’s a wonder how you managed to convince so many ponies to follow you. Or was that all your sister’s doing?” she added with a smirk.

“Hmph. You’re no better than that stubborn fool inside with you.” Shim’s hoof retreated. “Maybe you just need a little time to consider my generosity. It doesn’t really matter. You will be helping us, willing or otherwise, but perhaps some time in here will change your current stance.” She looked into the vault and started to sneer. “Hm. It appears we’ve forgotten to bring you any additional sheets. Ah, well. I do hope you two don’t mind sharing.” Shim turned and begun making her way to the room’s exit. “You two have a wonderful evening. See you in the morning.”

Only when the door had finished closing did Rarity allow herself to relax, letting her shoulders sag and her stony, defiant expression crumble. Today had been a very long, very demanding day, and to think she had finally encountered some fortune, finally discovered a populated settlement with real housing and real beds and real hot food, and finally found something to look forward to after a long day of traveling.

Well, at least Rarity could still enjoy a warm meal, even if the dining atmosphere left much to be desired. She looked down at the tray and stared at the two bowls that were completely licked clean.

Burgo Masters hiccuped. His beard was messy with crumbs and wet in parts with broth residue. “Er, sorry, but you know, haven’t eaten in a couple of days. I, uh, left you some bread. It’s still warm.”

He pushed the plate of crusts toward her and immediately shrunk away as Rarity regarded the leftovers with a cold stare and a frown. The dried travel rations she had been surviving had more appeal, but she wasn’t exactly given much of a choice here. It was either this or going to bed hungry tonight, and Rarity saw no need to further worsen her already dismal sleeping arrangements.

“So,” Burgo said after Rarity finished eating. “How are we going to do this? The bed, I mean.”

Rarity turned to the single cot and shuddered. Even if, by some miraculous, all powerful force that could not be subverted which left the both of them with a twisted sense of what was proper, they were inclined to share the bed, there wasn’t enough room available for more than one pony.

“Looks like somepony’s going to have to sleep on the floor tonight,” said Burgo Masters. He tapped his hooves together. “So uh, listen, miss. I’m not exactly as young as I once was, and I’ve got this bad back, and well.”

He trailed off under Rarity’s gaze. “You know, Mr. Masters, a gentlestallion would most certainly have surrendered the bed to the lady.”

“Yeah, I suppose he would.” The deposed mayor of Horshire rubbed the back of his neck.

“I imagine you’ve had the bed to yourself for quite some time already.”

“Probably, yeah.”

“And you did eat my portion of dinner.”

“Come on, I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. Can you really blame me?”

“But did you really, truly need all of it? And did you really, truly need it all so strongly enough to deprive me of any part of it?”

Burgo lowered his head. “I mean, maybe? I guess not.”

“So, with all that in mind, what do you suppose would be the right thing to do?”

“I have a bad back.”

Rarity looked away from Burgo’s sad eyes and turned back to the bed. She sighed. “Very well. I suppose, for tonight, you may take the bed.”

“Oh thank you. Thank you, miss, thank you. I’ll remember this when we get out of here, that I promise you.”

“Yes, yes,” Rarity said, doing her best to temper the frustration in her tone and keep herself from grumbling as she removed the ceremonial robes and laid it on the floor on the other side of the vault. The mattress was old, worn down from use, and really didn’t look all that comfortable, maybe only a slight improvement over the floor, and in all honesty, she wasn’t really looking forward to sleeping in a cramp bed that had already been used for who knew how long, with those dirty, unwashed sheets stained with somepony else’s sweat.

Besides, she had been sleeping on hard surfaces for almost a week already and was just starting to get used to it. What difference did one more night make anyways?

It was a pity sour grapes provided so little sustenance. Her self-assurances did nothing to quell her stomach’s complaints as Rarity nestled down and did her best to find some modicum of comfort while Burgo Masters took his place on the bed, its frame creaking under his weight.

“Don’t worry, miss,” the stallion suddenly announced. “I’ve got a brilliant plan to get us out of here. And now that you’re here, it’ll work out even better.”

Rarity opened her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah. See, all we’ve got to do is—“

The rest of Burgo Master’s plan was muffled by his own loud yawn. “I’ll tell you in the morning,” he finished just as a second yawn overtook him. The bed squeaked as he turned over onto his side.

The candle that came with their meal eventually burned out, leaving the vault in darkness. Burgo started to snore away, seemingly already fast asleep. At this point, there was nothing else for Rarity to do but follow suit and try to get some sleep. She was tired, too tired to come up with any coherent plans or even to organize her thoughts or review the events of the day. It wasn’t like she would be able to escape tonight, and there would be plenty of time to figure out what to do tomorrow.

Rarity let out a yawn and shut her eyes. She did her best to block out her roommate’s snores and waited for sleep to take her.

“So, what do you think?”

Rarity stared blankly. Thanks to a number of factors including the hard, cold floor, the pain in her empty stomach, a few lingering anxious thoughts and worries, some misgivings stemming from the unfamiliar experience of being in such a vulnerable state while in such close proximity of a complete stranger of a stallion, and Burgo’s snoring, sleep did not come for Rarity easily. She had woken up weary, stressed, and hungry in the dark with no sense of what time it was, and it was taking every little bit of her to keep herself from taking her frustration out on her fellow prisoner.

She had hoped that her mood would’ve improved after hearing more about Burgo Masters’s great plan to save themselves and Horshire. That had not exactly been the case.

“That’s your idea?” Rarity asked, her attitude toward the stallion souring. She raised a hoof and leaned her forehead against it. “I’m sorry, and I do hope I misheard because it sounded to me that all you wanted us to do is, wait.”

“Well, yes. For the right opportunity, I mean. I, uh, suppose I could explain things a little more.”

“Please.”

Burgo Masters took in a deep breath to steady his quivering limbs. “Alright, so you’re already aware of the bard’s magical abilities, yeah? You know, that charm spell of hers? Well, I’ve noticed that whenever they’ve had me charmed and under their control, I’d only be out for an hour or so before they’d bring me back inside. What’s more, it seems like you can resist the spell if you know it’s coming. Or maybe it’s if you’ve been under the spell enough times you build some kind of resistance to it.”

Burgo shrugged. “Look, I’m no expert in the arcane arts, but what I’m trying to get at is that that bard’s doesn’t seem to be much of one either. I don’t think she’s strong enough to keep us charmed for very long, and with there being two of us to deal with now, they’re bound to make a mistake. All we have to do is wait for them to slip up, make them think we’re under their control or something, and bam!” He slammed his hooves together. “We reveal their operation to the entire town. Until then, we just bide our time and wait for the golden opportunity.”

Rarity moved her hoof down under her chin as she considered the newly presented details. Burgo was more observant than one would have gathered based solely on his appearance and personality, and despite the simplicity of his plan, he had certainly put a lot of thought into it. It was more than she had managed to come up at the moment, Rarity had to admit, and it did make some strategic sense.

Still, Rarity couldn’t bring herself to approve such a passive plan, and she found herself feeling a restlessness more characteristic of Rainbow Dash than of her own being. Every second spent trapped in here waiting for something to happen was a second that could’ve been better spent working towards saving Spike and Discord. Surely there must have been something else they could do to aid their escape, something proactive.

And then there was one last thing about Burgo’s plan that was bothering Rarity, something that continued to nag her even as she begun to apply words to her suspicions.

“I believed you mentioned something last night about why you were locked up in here.” Rarity frowned. “Something about exposing their true intentions, if I’m not mistaken. It sounds like you’ve already attempted this plan of yours.”

“Yes, well, yes. I think I actually managed to throw off the spell, or maybe it wore off or something, while we were in the middle of some big public ceremony where I was supposed to be showing my support and all that nonsense. Made this huge scene in the middle of town.” Burgo Masters sniggered. “Ah, you should’ve seen the looks on their faces.”

“But you failed.” Rarity motioned to the dark walls around them. “Hence your current predicament.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t a complete failure,” Burgo quickly rebutted. “I’m sure seeing their guest of honor scream out about them being evil witches here to brainwash them would’ve shaken the faith of many of their followers. That would’ve caused their number to fall, probably. Some of the townsfolk might even be staging the rescue of their beloved mayor right this very minute. Just, you know, taking their time, making sure everything’s in order before they do.”

“Of course. But what I am trying to say is that, don’t you suppose our adversaries might be expecting us to try something like that again?” questioned Rarity. “Given how much damage your public outburst might have cause, I’d imagine they’d have prepared themselves for any similar attempts. Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, maybe.” He scratched his head and frowned. “I guess, that could be possible.”

“I’m not saying we can’t use your plan or that it’s an entirely bad idea,” Rarity added, “just maybe that it could be adjusted so that it’s not so predictable. Or we could have a few other plans working in conjunction with yours. It’d be to our advantage to have multiple options, and it would make us more difficult for Shim and her sister to anticipate, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well sure, that’d be nice, but what can we do here?” Burgo threw his head back and sighed. “Maybe you can think of something, because I’ve tried everything else, and I’m stumped.” He knocked against the wall he was leaning against. “Hear that? That’s solid mortar, designed to keep out even diamond dogs. We’re not digging out of here. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s soundproof too, otherwise some pony would’ve already heard and saved me.”

“What about the window?” Rarity pointed up to the barred space.

“Too small,” Burgo said with a shake of his head. “Even if we could get rid of those bars, it’s too small for a full grown pony to squeeze through. And don’t forget, the way out to the rest of this place is locked too.” He pulled his hoof down the length of his face and groaned. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to break out, but getting out of this vault is physically impossible.”

Physically impossible, he said. Rarity pressed a hoof against her front, feeling for the silver pendant around her neck. Well, the same could have been said of getting out of that fortress and away from the Squid Wizard. Rarity tried to recall what the Queen of Fey had told her. It was through the Queen of Fey’s magic that allowed her to escape the Squid Wizard’s hold, if she was remembering correctly, and their symbol, the pendant around her neck, was a key component in calling forth that power.

Maybe, if she could figure out how it worked, Rarity could magic the two of them out of here. But what exactly would that entail? Did she have to concentrate on what she wanted done in her head? Visualize the end result? Chant or maybe even make a verbal plea to the Queen themself?

She grasped the symbol, feeling its jabbing points. The number of times she could call upon this power was limited, only two more times the Queen had said. Was now the time to spend one of her remaining uses? After a moment of self deliberation, Rarity released the pendant. No, not while she still wasn’t sure on how to make it work. For all she knew, her ignorance could cause the magic to backfire and leave her in a far worse situation. Unless she found herself in an emergency that left her with no other choice, it would be best to save the Fey magic until Rarity understood it better.

So magic wasn’t looking to be her answer here, but Rarity still had a full set of saddlebags worth of supplies to work with. Burgo watched with widening eyes as she unstrapped the bags from her back and laid out their contents in neat rows before her.

There was the tinderbox consisting of the slab of flint, the piece of iron, and some dead leaves and dried grass Rarity had gathered for later, but she couldn’t see how starting a fire in their concrete, enclosed environment would improve matters. She didn’t think either the sewing kit or the first aid kit would be of much use in this situation, and she had trouble imagining how her coil of hemp rope would help them escape their prison. Knowing which direction was north wasn’t going to be much help here, so that limited the lodestone’s uses to those of any small rock one could easily find in the dirt. Elder Woods’s map, meanwhile, could be used to get a message out should she ever come across that chance, but it would require her to find something to write on it with, otherwise the parchment might as well serve as extra kindling should the plan of flooding this cell with asphyxiating smoke ever appeared more appealing. And then there was the coin pouch, which probably didn’t have enough in it to buy her way out and would’ve likely been confiscated had either Shim or the musician known about it.

There was also a half full canteen and some leftover travel mix, which Burgo had started reaching for but stopped and retreated in embarrassment under Rarity’s glare. Her empty stomach growled at the sight of food without any concern to its unappealing appearance or bland taste or the company present, and with cheeks blushing red, Rarity partook in some of the dried berries and nuts to try and quiet the rumbling as she finished taking inventory. That just left a small knife which might be thin enough to fit into any exposed screws if they found any, as well as the two daggers she still had hidden in her cloak’s pocket.

Burgo Masters pointed to the knife. “May I?”

As sudden as the request had been, Rarity saw no harm in letting Burgo take a closer look and gave her permission with a nod. Who knew, he might even figure something out after getting a better idea of what they had to work with.

The stallion picked up the small knife, letting it balance in his hoof before carefully feeling the edge of the blade. He took a few careful swings at the air before placing it back down. “There is one other thing I can think of.”

Rarity turned to face Burgo. “Oh? What is it?”

“It’s, well, desperate,” the stallion began, grimacing. ”We could always try overpowering whoever comes over the next time they try to get us. I’m not too worried about Shim, she’s the type of pony who gets winded from a staircase, but that bard’s tougher than she looks.” He brought a hoof to his cheek, the one still bruised from last night. “With the two of us together, maybe, I don’t know. You don’t exactly look like much of a fighter yourself.”

“I’ll admit, fighting’s not really my thing, but I assure you, I can hold my own,” Rarity said with an offended sniff.

“Alright, sure.” The disbelief in Burgo’s voice was obvious. “Still, the bard’s armed and knows her way around a blade, and I don’t think I want to try taking her on again even we outnumber her two to one. Maybe if we had weapons of our own, that’d be a different story, but this here really isn’t going to cut it.” He pointed down to the knife on the floor. “I mean, maybe it could work if we got the drop on her and hit something vital. You wouldn’t happen to have anything sharper on you, would you?”

Well, as it so was, Rarity did so happen to have a pair of genuine daggers right on her person, one of which had already demonstrated its effectiveness in inflicting harm. And yet, instead of showing off the daggers gifted to her by Elder Woods and Huntress, she hesitated and was silent. The last time she had ever used such a weapon against a fellow pony had also been the first time, and that had been in complete self-defense. She shivered at the memory of plunging her dagger into the eye of that crazed ruffian, and as much as Rarity despised the musician for what she had done, she was having trouble imagining herself doing the same to that mare. Even the thought of making threats with her dagger pointed and pressed against some soft and vulnerable part left a bad taste in her mouth and a sickening feeling in her stomach.

Rarity was not a violent pony. Yes, she knew how to defend herself and was more than willing to fight if it meant protect herself and those she cared about, but she certainly wasn’t looking forward to bloodshed, on either side. Still, if that’s what it took to get out of here, to get back to the task of saving dear Spike and Discord and finding a way back to Equestria, Rarity had to ask herself, was she willing to take that step?

The door to the room swung open, interrupting Rarity’s thoughts and cutting her contemplation short. There was some scrambling and scraping of the floor as Burgo dove down and quickly swept everything into the corner, right under the cot. The two figures who stepped inside didn’t seem to notice. The darkness kept their identities hidden, but Rarity couldn’t think of anypony else they could be besides Shim and her musician sister. Both approached the vault’s window and confirmed Rarity’s conjecture as the faces of the two mares came into view.

“Ah, good morning. I trust you’ve both slept well.” Shim hid her smirk with a bow of her head, but Rarity could hear it through her condescension and false concern. The musician standing to the side of her, meanwhile, made no attempt to hide her smug expression, and in the presence of all that haughtiness, Rarity was filled with an overwhelming desire to see the musician’s smile wiped clean off her face.

“Hm, perhaps not,” Shim said when she lifted her head and saw the tired expression Rarity had on. She whispered something to the musician who answered in kind and nodded before Shim turned back to Rarity and Burgo. “Well, I’m just here to see how our newest guest is doing. Unless, Mr. Mayor, you’ve finally had a change of heart.”

“Forget it,” Burgo grumbled, crossing his forelegs over his chest.

“Very well. And you, miss?” Shim said to Rarity. “Have you given my offer any further thoughts?”

“I have, and I continue to find myself as disgusted with your dealings as I do with your faces,” Rarity declared, turning up her nose at the false abbess. “And you should know, I have powerful friends waiting for me, and rest assured, they will be searching for me.”

“If you are referring to that family you came into town with, it might interest you to know that they left Horshire a few hours ago,” Shim said. “It would appear that you weren’t that close of friends after all.”

Rarity didn’t answer. “Well, in any case,” Shim continued, “it’s a shame you feel that way about us, but I’m sure you’ll be changing your mind sooner rather than later.”

With that, Shim exited the room, leaving Rarity and Burgo alone with the musician who was leaned lazily against one of the crates. The wood creaked as she shifted her weight, eroding what little tolerance Rarity had for the deceptive lyre player until she finally snapped. “And what are you still doing here?” she said sharply.

”Oh nothing in particular,” chirped the musician. “Just felt like loitering around down here is all. You see, unlike the two of you, I’m free to do whatever I feel like doing.” She got off the box and peeked into the repurposed vault. “Must be boring in there. How about a little, hm, entertainment?”

A soft melody rang through the room as the musician ran a hoof past the strings of her lyre that had been tucked beneath the folds of her costume and started hummed. More notes joined the initial chord, and before long, the entire room was alive with the sound of music. The dark walls seemed to brighten as the lyre’s song echoed against them, and when the musician added her own voice, for just a moment, Rarity forgot where she was. In that short second, the cold, dull cell had become a vibrant meadow full of warmth. She forgot her hunger, her soreness, her worries, and all her exhaustion.

The song ended far too soon. The musician put her instrument aside and approached the bars separating her from her guests. The smile she offered was warm and a welcomed sight. Rarity saw the mare’s lips move but only heard the sound of her voice; no words reached her ears.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I-I don’t think I understand. Could you repeat that?”

Burgo Masters was scoffing and muttering something, but Rarity ignored him as she watched the musician giggle. Her laughter was like a wind chime played by a spring breeze. “I wanted to know if you wanted to leave.”

“L-leave? Leave here?”

“Of course,” the musician said. “Just for a little a while, just so you can stretch your legs out a bit, maybe take a stroll through town. And maybe, depending how things go this time, I might be able to convince my sister into letting you have a little freedom. Sound good?”

Rarity nodded. She started toward the door of their cell.

“What are you doing?” Burgo grabbed hold of her cloak. “You can’t be serious. They’re up to something, you know that. You can’t really be—“ He suddenly stopped himself as his eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes,” said the musician as she slid to her side of the vault’s door. “And, just in case you need a reminder.” She pulled out her blade, making sure it was visible to Burgo. “Let’s not try anything.”

“You...” Burgo’s legs shook, and through his beard, Rarity saw his face flush red. His mouth opened and shut several times as he sputtered and struggled to speak. “Darn it!” the stallion finally managed to say then turned and kicked angrily at the floor before marching over to the cot and throwing himself onto it.

The musician sighed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him for so long. It must have been rough.” The heavy metal gate opened slowly, revealing the musician on the other side. “Well, come along now. Oh, and pick up that tray. And don’t forget your robe. You can keep the hood off this time.”

Rarity put on her borrowed clothes, again tossing them over her own cloak without any issue or discomfort, and looked down at the tray with the bowls and utensils from last night’s meal. Gathering it and all of its contents, she started toward the exit but stopped to turn to the stallion slumped over in the cramped bed.

“What about Burgo? Is he not coming with us?”

The musician blinked at the question and for a moment, Rarity thought she saw the musician’s smile start to falter only for it to return and shine with even more radiance. “Well, that really depends on his behavior. He’s been awfully unruly as of recent and needs to be punished, but I promise you, once he learns to play nice—“

At this, Burgo Masters harrumphed and rolled onto his side.

“—we’ll let him out. But he has to learn his lesson first. You understand, don’t you?”

Rarity hesitated. “Maybe, maybe I should stay. Something doesn’t seem right about leaving him here.”

“It’s kind of you to say so,” the musician said. “More than he deserves, really, but we need you, miss. We need you out there.”

“You, you need me?”

“Oh yes,” the lyre player answered with a nod. “We have ponies out there just dying to get a glimpse of you and hear you speak and, well, I’ll explain more on the way, but right now, you should just know that we need you far more than the mayor over there does.”

“Well...”

“And honestly, would you really prefer to spend your time in here in the company of that lout of a stallion than to go with me?” The musician gave Rarity a quick glance, and her smile became one of pity. “I bet he hogged the bed all to himself and just left you on the floor, didn’t he.”

Every sore inch of Rarity back cried out in confirmation of the musician’s accusation. Her bleary eyes and a slight lightheadedness served as additional reminders of how poor her slumber had been thanks to Burgo’s selfishness. Without sparing another word to or bothering to glance back at the stallion in the cot, Rarity followed the musician out of the vault.

15. The Marionette

The Marionette

The heavy metal gate of the vault was closed and secured behind Rarity, followed by the wooden door to the room as she was led back through the area with the boxes and janitorial supplies, to the stairway, and up to the ground floor. The way through the hall was lit by beams of sunlight passing through the windows. The two mares followed the path down to the room at the very end, the same room Rarity had first met Shim if she was remembering correctly.

If she wasn’t, it was certainly a very similarly furnished room, with a cluttered writing desk against the wall, a large wardrobe to the side, and a bed at least twice and a half the size of the cot from the vault complete with a complementary nightstand beside it. In the center was the red and green shag rug that added a little color to the brown of the floorboards. The lamp on the desk had long since burned out, its fuel spent, but there was plenty of light coming through the room’s sole window.

“You can drop that tray anywhere you like,” the musician instructed with a dismissive wave. “Shim should be here pretty soon to help you get ready. In the mean time, why don’t I grab some food for you while you wait here? Go ahead, take a seat anywhere you’d like. Shim won’t mind.”

Rarity did as she was told, placing the tray of dirty bowls down on the floor before looking between the rug and the mattress. She finally settled on the rug, deciding that the additional comfort wasn’t worth performing a potential faux pas by lying in her host’s own bed, even if she had the permission from Shim’s sister. It may not have been a bed, but the shag rug was still plenty soft and a vast improvement over the hard concrete floor of the vault.

As Rarity was enjoying her new comfy setting, the door reopened, and the musician returned with a basket and a mug. Shim soon followed, carrying a large bowl of water and wearing a set of saddlebags. “Here you are,” said the musician, placing the basket next to Rarity and revealing the several little dinner rolls within. “Go right ahead.”

At the musician’s prompting, Rarity took one of the bread rolls. It was still warm, maybe even fresh out of the oven. She bit into it and released a hum of surprise and satisfaction. There was a slight sweetness to its taste, not overwhelmingly so but enough to add a tantalizing flavor that made her mouth beg for more.

The leftover crusts from last night might as well have been ash, the dried rations sand. A second bite swiftly followed even before Rarity finished swallowing the first. The first roll soon disappeared, and Rarity moved on to the next one. Even after Rarity remembered herself and her manners and forced herself to slow down, eating more like a civilized lady, it did not take long before the plate of bread rolls became a plate of bread crumbs, and Rarity washed down the last mouthful with a sip of cool, creamy milk from the mug, another wonderful surprise.

“Done?” asked the musician. “Then let’s get you ready.”

The two mares worked together to pull out and prepare a collection of combs and brushes from Shim’s bags. “Don’t move,” Shim ordered as she went around and behind Rarity. Rarity winced as the teeth of a comb ran through her hair and ripped through the tangles and matted patches. After some time, Shim switched to a fine bristle brush which she used to straighten and smooth out parts of Rarity’s messy mane before going back to the comb and then moving on to a different style of brush.

A salon styling this most certainly was not. Shim pulled and yanked when a gentler approach would have sufficed, and the way she moved her tools was stiff and left Rarity’s mane uneven, which would then require Shim to go back and repeat a step. As Rarity struggled to follow Shim instruction and remain still, she wondered if the abbess had even an idea of what she was doing. Any attempts to check her reflection in the bowl of water were met with rebuffs and firm requests for stillness. At this point, Rarity was sure she could be doing a better job and was more than willing to take over. It was her own mane after all, and after spending so many years with it, she should and would know best.

As Rarity started to speak, however, getting out no more than a couple of words, the musician held up a hoof and gave out a smile of confidence.

“Don’t worry. Shim knows what she’s doing. Don’t you, Sis?”

Shim huffed as she continued to work. It wasn’t the most encouraging answer, but Rarity decided not to pursue the issue further. At long last, Shim set down her tools and stepped back around to face Rarity’s front side.

“Well, what do you think?” Shim asked the musician.

The musician took some time to answer, tilting her head side to side as she looked over Rarity’s mane. “Eh, it’s better,” she eventually said. “Don’t know if it’s princess quality, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s never seen a brush in her life anymore. Let’s keep going.”

The musician pulled out a small towel of from the saddlebags, not much larger than a standard dishcloth. Rarity watched as the musician plunged the towel into the basin, soaking it before wringing out the excess water. “Hold still for me,” she instructed as she approached Rarity and tossed the wet towel over her face. The sudden cold dampness of the cloth soaking into her coat sent a shiver through Rarity’s body, but before she could protest, she felt hooves press against her face. They scrubbed away, either ignoring or in ignorance of Rarity’s muffled whimpers.

Her cheeks were red by the time the towel was removed, and at the sight of all of the smudges on the once clean cloth, Rarity recoiled. She was well aware that her time on the road hadn’t left her with many opportunities to clean herself, but seeing just how dirty her face had been, how much gunk and grime had accumulated, was still a shock.

The musician took a step back to examine their work. “Well, it’s definitely an improvement,” she said. “Everypony will be able to see her face, and there’s really no mistaking it. We don’t even need the disguise kit.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Shim said with a relieved sigh. “There’s not much of it left.” She clapped her hooves together. “Alright, I’ll head out first and make sure everything’s in order. You make sure she’s still charmed. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the musician grumbled as Shim left. She pulled out her lyre and started to play, filling the room with a bright, cheery melody. Part of Rarity wanted to cover her ears, to shout and scream over the music, but that bout of insanity quickly passed as everything beside the song of the strings was drowned out.

To Rarity’s sudden sadness, the music came to end. The last chord of lyre and the musician’s last sung note echoed throughout the room before it all went still and silent. “Well, that should do it,” the musician said, putting away her instrument. “Come on.”

Rarity was led out of the room and back into the hall. “Where are we going?” she asked as they hurried through the building.

“Just a meeting with some adoring fans and then a quick stroll through town,” answered the musician. “Remember the first night, how all you had to do was stand there and let Shim do all the talking? Well same sort of deal here, only some ponies are probably going to try talking to you, and when they do, you have to act like you’re Princess Shmarity and that you managed to get away from the Squid Wizard through the Great Protector’s divine intervention or something vague like that, and because of how grateful you are to the Great Protector, you’ve decided to devote your life to their will and their order. Actually, now that I’ve said that all out loud, it sounds awfully complicated so if things get too much for you, just leave the talking to Shim and I and just nod when we say so.” She looked over to Rarity. “Still, should be easy enough, right?”

“Um, I—“

“Oh, Sis,” the musician said, cutting Rarity off as she announced Shim’s return. “How’s everything coming along?”

“As well as can be, I suppose,” Shim said. She stood at the door that led to the bank’s front lobby. “The crowd is a bit larger than anticipated, but that shouldn’t be an issue.” She turned to Rarity and reached over to brush a few loose strands out of Rarity’s face. “There, perfect.” Shim turned to the musician. “Well then. Let’s get started.”

An audible hush and the stares of some several ponies were there to greet them as they stepped into the bank’s front lobby. This time, the room was well and packed. Many of the ponies before them wore white robes similar to those Rarity and Shim had on, but there was also a large number without such attire, wearing instead the vests and wide brimmed farm hats and simple dresses Rarity had more typically observed of Horshire’s population along with faces of shock and disbelief as she passed them by. Whispers followed after her as she was led through the room, the crowd moving out of the way as Shim and her approached.

“I told you, look!”

“I can’t believe it.”

“It’s really her!”

They stopped at the stage from the first night, right in front of the donation box, and turned to face the crowd. “Brothers, sisters, ponies of Horshire,” Shim exclaimed, her voice echoing through the room. “I thank you for your patience.” Shim’s head turned from one side of the room to the other as she looked over the crowd. “I see that amongst our congregation, there are those new to us and this house of worship as well as those whom we have not seen in some time.”

The assembly stirred with visible discomfort. Some in the crowd, both with and without robes, appeared to shrink back when the speaker’s gaze seemingly fell upon them. The crowd became still when Shim raised a hoof. “Brothers and sisters, you who have remained faithful to the Great Protector, do not hold any hard feelings toward those who have only now returned to our savior’s grace. Rather, we welcome you who have stumbled in your faith. And to you who have never accepted or known of the Great Protector’s will, who have been brought here because of news of Princess Shmarity’s presence, we welcome you as well and hope that you will not only satisfy your curiosity, for yes, as you can all see the princess is with us and well, but also come to understand of the mighty grace that has brought the princess to us.”

The gathered ponies started to mutter. Many nodded and spoke out in agreement with Shim, with Rarity hearing several exclamations of affirmation, but some, particularly those of the more plainly dressed, sounded and appeared doubtful. There was one stallion of note wearing a dark gray hat and had a similarly colored mustache who had managed to push to the front of the crowd. His skepticism was easily seen in the stare he shot at Rarity, and his dispassionate features slowly morphed into a deepening scowl as Shim’s grandiose speech continued.

“See how powerful the Great Protector is and know their wonderful works. Give praise to they who have rescued the princess from the stronghold of doom. Give praise to they who have bestowed their protection upon this humble town and keeps the enemy from our doorstep. Brothers, sisters, ponies of Horshire, let me hear you give praise!”

“Horse apples!”

Everypony turned to the stallion in the gray hat. He stepped forward and approached the stage. “If you think getting some look-alike to play pretend will get me to join your hokey cult, you’re just as gullible as the rest of the poor saps here,” he exclaimed, gesturing to the robed ponies behind him. At this, many in crowd shook in anger and some even approached the dissenter with their own select words of animosity. The stallion, with his face locked in a glower, showed no signs of being intimated, and some of the other outsiders, encouraged by his daring display, stood up around him in solidarity.

Again Shim raised her hoof, and again the congregation calmed. To her credit, she did not appear perturbed by the stallion’s insolence, her matronly smile unwavering. “Now now, peace, brothers and sisters. A little suspicion is understandable. With all that we have been through, I know how difficult it can be to hope again.”

“That’s not what—“

“But you don’t need to be afraid any longer,” Shim continued on, cutting the stallion off. She took a step toward him. “There is no need for you to continue living in fear. Why deny what is right before your eyes? Or are you so lost to the truth that you willing blind yourself to reality? Or perhaps,” Shim added, her eyes narrowing, “this is envy?”

“Envy? What are you—“

“Yes, envy!” Shim made her way back to the stage and to Rarity’s side. “Envy toward we who no longer live in fear. Envy toward we who know the truth and live in the hope that comes with the truth. Yes, I see an envy so great, so powerful and hateful, it would drive a pony to deprive his neighbors of what hope they possess just so he isn’t the only one living in darkness!”

Shim’s voice shook as she pointed at the stallion who had spoken out. The crowd, rallied by Shim’s exclamation, escalated from whispers and mutters to shouts and angry jeers. Most of the stallion’s supporters melted into the mob, hiding away and leaving him to fend for himself as the angry worshippers drew closer and grew louder. His face started to turn red and his mustache bristled as his collected countenance collapsed. He stepped up to Shim and Rarity, inciting several gasps and cries.

“Horse apples, all of it!” he snarled. “I’m just not stupid enough to fall for your tricks. You say that’s Princess Shmarity?” The stallion jabbed a hoof in Rarity’s direction. “Then tell me, ‘Princess,’ where in the palace is the captain of royal guard’s quarters located?“ He turned to Shim and sneered. “See, I had an uncle who worked at the castle. Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?”

The ends of the abbess’s lips twitched. “That’s enough. We will allow no further disrespect toward the princess. Have you no shame? She has already been through so much already, far more than any of us can hope to imagine, and now you dare question—“

“Captain Gleaming Shield’s main living quarters are in the west turret, overlooking the training barracks of the royal knights, though there are offices in each of the palace’s towers that can accommodate the captain so that she can focus her attention on whichever section requires her most.”

Everypony turned to the pony who had spoken, their eyes wide and several with their jaws dropped. Rarity herself blinked a number of times in surprise when she realized that the answer had come from her. She brought a hoof to the lips that had moved on their own as the images of some regal structure faded from her mind. Where had her answer come from? How was she seeing this palace she had no memory of visiting and why did it feel so familiar? Rarity turned to Shim for instructions, but the mare in white and gold appeared just as confused.

A chuckle rang through the room. “Well, how about it?” Rarity heard the musician say. “Is she the real deal or not?”

The shade of red on the stallion’s features darkened to something closer to purple. His mouth was constantly opening and closing as the others around him demanded either confirmation or contradiction, but no words were formed out of his sputters. He spun around and rushed through the crowd, pushing his way past ponies until he reached the building’s exit. The silence that followed the slam of the door lasted until the stallion’s gray hat, thrown off and abandoned in his haste to escape, drifted to the ground, after which the assembly exploded into complete and utter chaos. Over Shim’s cries for order, the crowd rushed forward to Rarity, bombarding her with questions and a variety of declarations.

“Princess! Over here! Look here, please!”

“Where’s the army? Do we still have an army?”

“I can’t believe. The princess, she’s actually here!”

“What about the heroes that were rumored? Are they here too?”

“I really like your mane!”

“Praise be! Did you see the Great Protector when you were saved?”

“How did you escape?”

The crush of ponies got closer and closer, forcing Rarity to back up until she was against the wall. Shim stepped between her and the approaching crowd. “That’s enough!” she somehow managed to shout over the noise. She swept her glare across the initial line before her and caused some to back away. “Is this how we of the Great Protector should be treating such an esteemed guest? Is this how you want to represent Horshire to Her Highness? Surely not!” Shim turned to the musician standing off to the side and gave her a nod before returning to the audience. “Calm yourselves, brothers and sisters. There will be time for you to show your adoration, but only if you remain calm and civil. See here, you are only stressing the princess out with this disorderly behavior and, please, quiet down! Listen to me!”

As Shim fought to restore peace to the room, her voice ringing over the crowd’s competing protests, Rarity was grabbed by the musician and dragged away. Some ponies tried to follow, but the unorganized crowded and noisy environment prevented them from getting too close. The two made their escape back through the door behind the counters.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?” the musician said cheerfully as she brought Rarity back into Shim’s room. “Nice bit of improvising out there. Way to call that heckler’s bluff.” She snorted. “Bet he feels real stupid.”

Rarity smiled. It was always nice to receive a friendly compliment, but before she could thank her, the door was flung open and in stepped Shim looking flustered. Strands of mane were sticking out of her bun, and she was breathing heavily, as if she had sprinted all the way here, while her robes had become rumpled and messy. Her face was flushed, though from her glare it was difficult to know for sure whether it was out of physical activity, anger, or embarrassment.

“I thought I told you to make sure she was under control,” Shim hissed at the musician who frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“She is.” The musician looked to Rarity and said, “Go sit on the bed. Okay, now throw me the pillow.”

The cushion landed directly into the musician’s grasp. “See?”

“Then what was that about?” Shim asked, jabbing a hoof at the door. “Why did she answer that stallion?”

The musician tapped at her chin, hummed then shrugged. “I don’t see the problem. I told her to act like the princess, and she played that role perfectly. Shot that loudmouth down like a true champion. I mean, come on Sis. You have to admit the look on his stupid face was amazing.”

“It was a risk that could have ruined everything!” Shim all but roared. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I had it all under control. It wouldn’t have mattered whether that heckler was telling the truth or not, but if he had, her outburst would have been all he needed to expose us.”

“But he wasn’t, and it all paid off in the end, and look!” the musician argued. “That got the crowd moving faster than we’ve ever managed before. You should be out there accepting donations, not standing around and getting upset because for once in our lives we got lucky. Come on, tell me, how much coin did we already make today?”

“I, don’t know, I left one of our more loyal followers to deal with collections so we could deal with this,” Shim said, rubbing her forehead. “Look, we can’t afford to rely on luck. We need a plan, and we need to stick to it. Or have you forgotten what happened last time, during our short stay in Candelkeep?”

“Hey! It’s not my fault I didn’t know the head monk had an irrational fear of clocks. Nopony could have—“

A knock at the door shut the musician up, and before anypony could respond, the door opened to reveal a young mare on the other side. She wore the white robes of their order, though hers were more plain than the ones Rarity and Shim had on, and had her long, burgundy mane braided together. “Um, pardon me, M-Mother Shim,” she said barely louder than a whisper. “But, um.”

“What is it, Sister Patsy?” Shim demanded, her impatient tone causing the mare to shrink. “I thought I was clear that I was not to be disturbed. Did you at least handle the situation outside?”

“Oh yes,” the mare answered with an eager nod before adding a less confident, “I think. Everypony is going home now. Um, is that alright?”

“Yes, yes. That’s fine,” Shim said hurriedly. “Now is that everything or was there something else?”

The timid mare tapped her hooves together. “Actually, we were hoping...” She stepped to the side, allowing Shim, the musician, and Rarity to see the additional four or five robed ponies behind her. “We were hoping to see the princess. Just for a little bit, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The other ponies nodded. Some tried to peek over to catch a glimpse of Rarity, and those who succeeded announced their achievement in excited whispers. Shim looked to the musician who just gave a nonchalant shrug. With a frustrated sigh, Shim turned back to the group of ponies waiting in anticipation.

“Very well. But!” she added, emphasizing with a raised hoof. “Mind your manners. Remember, every one of us here is a representative of the Great Protector, so do act accordingly.”

It was too late. Shim’s disciplining fell on deaf ears as Rarity was swarmed by the group and was swept away in a second torrent of inquiries and acclimations. Even the shy sister who initiated this encounter added to the din, her voice growing as loud as the rest, and all Rarity could do was try to smile, nod, and thank her audience for being here.

Eventually, Shim called an end to the meeting and ordered her acolytes away, telling them to go home and to come again tomorrow if they wanted to see the princess. “Princess Shmarity is still recovering from her journey,” she had explained. “The Great Protector’s power is great, but the princess still need her rest. And do remember to tell your family and neighbors what you have seen today,” Shim added as the last of her followers reluctantly shuffled out.

They waited a couple of minutes, then once they confirmed that the hall was empty, Shim and the musician instructed Rarity to follow and brought her again through the door to the stairway. They descended, making their way through the dark storage area and past the locked doors before returning to the vault beneath the bank’s floorboards. Burgo Masters had gotten up and gone over to watch from the barred window as they approached. The gate was opened, and after a quick command from the musician, Rarity stepped inside.

For some time, she just stood there in the center of the cell, wearing a smile of contentment on her face as she enjoyed the feeling that came with doing a good job. Eventually, that small smile rotated into a massive frown, and any sense of happiness gave way to darker emotions as she angrily spun around, ready to shout, chastise, lecture, or maybe just scream at the ponies who had used her so. By the time Rarity had turned around, however, Shim and that damnable magical musician were already gone.

The gate had long since been locked and secured, but Rarity pushed at it anyways, letting out her ineffectual frustrations with an anguished growl. Unsurprisingly, the gate didn’t even rattle, and Rarity was left drained and out of breath.

“You, uh, know it swings inward, right?”

“Yes! Thank you!” Rarity snapped, before taking deep breath. “Ahem, yes. Pardon me.” She stepped away from the door and sat down on the cot.

“So, what happened?” Burgo Masters asked as he approached.

Rarity started to describe what had occurred during her brief time outside. She recalled the crowded lobby, the large gathering, the mix of cultists with nonbelievers, and Shim’s sermon. However, when she got to the parts involving the stallion with the supposed uncle from the castle, Rarity omitted mention of her odd reply, she herself not understanding what had happened then, and simply framed it instead as Shim twisting the poor pony’s reasoning until the whole crowd turned against him and turned to chaos.

“Do you suppose there any chance that stallion was telling the truth?” Rarity questioned Burgo once her story had concluded. The mayor had been quiet during the recount and now appeared to be lost in thought.

“What, you mean old Grays?” Burgo snorted. “He’ll have you believe he’s got a relative in every town of Spiketopia and in just about every position or job just short of the really public ones. I mean, sure, sometimes he really does have an uncle or a cousin or a something-in-law who really is a big shot adventurer or researcher or whatever, he comes from a huge family you see, but more often than not it’s just an entertaining tall tale. It would’ve been nice if Grays had managed to trip them up, but Shim’s a crafty one.” He shook his head. “So it’s exactly as we thought, huh? They’re making the town think they’ve got the princess in her pocket.” The stallion winced. “Ooh boy.”

It was certainly not the most reassuring reaction for her to be receiving. “Do you think they’ll find any success?” Rarity asked. “I know I saw a few skeptics today along with, Grays was it? Surely enough of your fellow ponies will have the guile to see through this and keep the town from falling further into their influence.”

“Oh, I’d like to think so,” Burgo said, running a hoof through his already messy mane, “but honestly? I’m not too sure. Horshire hasn’t had a lot to celebrate since the old trade route shut down, and now Shim comes along heralding the return of Princess Shmarity? Yeah, her whole message of hope and junk through some all powerful protector just got a whole lot more attractive now that she’s got actual ‘proof,’ and, well, have you looked in a mirror?” Burgo gestured at Rarity’s face. “If I didn’t know better, you could’ve fooled me, and it’s not like anypony in town actually knows the princess and can prove you’re not her.”

The mayor of Horshire sighed and slumped against the wall. The vault went silent as both he and Rarity sat with their thoughts, with one particular thought that they unknowingly shared being the most prominent:

We need to get out of here.

The question, of course, was how. Rarity ran through her list of possible escape means and found it lacking. She had a few options, yes, but they were all completely reliant on the folly of her oppressors or either dangerous and utterly distasteful, such as attacking the backs of Shim and the musician with the blades in her pocket, or dangerous and utterly insane, like, say, trying to invoke the magic of some strange and powerful and maybe not entirely benevolent being without having any idea as to how to control it.

One would think that with the disturbing number of times Rarity had been made a prisoner and then gotten free, she would have had an easier time coming up with a way to escape, but there were no simpleminded guards here for her to bully into submission or to have wrapped around her hoof (and it was extremely odd to be on the other end of the puppet strings), no friends on the outside planning a daring rescue, and no magical alicorn princess battling for her freedom. The closest analogy she had to the situation she was in now was the time she spent in Starlight Glimmer’s, during her misguided Cutie Mark hating phase, village, but it wasn’t like a peace-loving pegasus who had already demonstrated sympathy to the enemy cause was around to pretend to switch sides.

With her thoughts exhausted and the sound of her own mental deliberations becoming tiresome, Rarity finally broke the silence. “So how did this all start?” she asked.

Burgo Masters looked up. “How did what start? You mean the...”

“The cult, yes. Even if Shim is as good a speaker as you say she is, I’m having some trouble imagining how she and her sister managed to gather such a following to begin with,” said Rarity. “What did they have to offer? Maybe there’s something in their past methods we can use to our advantage.”

It was a play right out of Twilight Sparkle’s book, looking into past history for the answers to present problems, and an eyewitness to the event was just as good as a book on the subject.

“I suppose it can’t hurt to try and explain,” said the stallion. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting to find, but maybe you’ll get something I missed. Let’s see now, where to begin, where to begin?” Rarity watched as Burgo Masters scratched his chin through that bush of a beard.

“It was a little while after Bakersfield was wiped off the map, and we were dealing with that second wave of refugees. A lot of the towns neighboring Bakersfield were being abandoned at that time, ponies afraid that their homes would be next. I’m sure you saw what was left of them on the way here, you coming from the east and all. Still bit of a shock that there are still some ponies out in that direction.” He shook his head. “Anyways, we were just glad to get some traffic and some coin into town, what with the bulk of the merchants scared off the main road, but we were all worried about what would happen to Horshire once they left. There was even some talk among the townsfolk of leaving themselves. Well, around that time, Shim and her bard sister showed up.”

Burgo went on to explain how instead of leaving with the rest of the refugees, the two mares settled down and filled a couple of gaping holes in the community. The musician provided some much needed distraction with her craft, and for the first time since news of the capital’s fall the tavern had evenings full of patrons and laughter. Shim, meanwhile, became the town’s alternate healer whenever the first was too busy with patching up militia members. Over time, more and more ponies went to Shim first until eventually she became the primary healer while the old physician took up the role of the militia’s medic full time. That was around when rumors started spreading about Shim being able to perform miracles.

“What do you mean, miracles?” Rarity asked. “Can Shim use magic as well or was it all just hyperbole?”

“Hyper, what?”

“Exaggeration.”

“Oh. Well, it’s honestly kind of hard to say,” Burgo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “By all accounts, Shim’s a good enough healer, and I can chalk some of the rumors up to her patients over-exaggerating, but then there were reports of strange things happening during her treatments, like flickering lights or Shim’s eyes suddenly glowing and her voice deepening. I also remember a lot of her followers claiming that the ground shook when she first started giving sermons, but I’ve never actually seen it myself.”

Burgo shrugged before continuing. “It wasn’t a big deal at the time. We’ve got no problem with magic or magic users, had plenty of adventuring mages come through Horshire on their way to Baldursgait without any issue, and Shim wasn’t hurting anypony. Even when she started telling ponies about this new deity of hers called the Great Protector and how her healing came from them and all that junk, I didn’t see a problem as long as she kept my town healthy.”

“Really? You didn’t think there was anything strange about what was being said?”

Again, the stallion struggled. “Strange, sure, but in the end ponies were being taken care of. I didn’t think there was any harm in telling ponies they had a powerful and divine guardian that had a plan to get through these troubling times, and after everything the town’s been through, some of us really could’ve used an encouraging message like that.

“Anyways, word spread. Ponies starting going to Shim for more than just medical problems, and soon Shim started preaching her message publicly. We didn’t have any problems until she started telling everypony that the only reason Horshire was still standing was because of the Great Protector.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course that angered a bunch of ponies, especially those from the older families, as you can imagine, and I had to step in as the mayor to mediate. That gave them the opportunity to put me under that charm spell of theirs and they’ve had free run of the town ever since.”

Burgo sighed and slumped against the wall, seemingly exhausted from having to relive the events of the his tale. Before Rarity could make sure if he was alright, however, the door to the room opened, and in came Shim and the musician carrying between them a bundle of blankets and another tray with some bread and a pair of bowls. The vault’s gate was unlocked, and enough room was made to slide the bundle and the tray in before the metal door was shut once more.

This time, Rarity made sure to grab a bowl before Burgo went and devoured both portions. She was about to follow in Burgo’s suit and start digging in, albeit less messily and with more care, when she noticed that neither Shim nor the musician had made any move to leave. She placed the bowl back down and stared back past the metal bars at the two mares.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before Rarity finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, are we waiting for something?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” Shim assured. “Don’t mind us. Go on, eat while it’s still warm.”

When Rarity did no such thing and simply continued to sit and stare, the two turned and looked to each other before turning back to Rarity. “Yes, well,” Shim said, clearing her throat as she returned the small frown on her face to her original smile. “We were planning on waiting for you to finish your meal before discussing business, out of courtesy, but I suppose we could always start now, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Is that right? How very considerate of you,” Rarity said, her voiced dulled by her true feelings on the matter. “But yes, I think it would be best to deal with whatever business we still have first. I’d rather have my meal in peace.” She gave Shim a rueful smile. “You understand, I’m sure.”

The only reaction Rarity got was some slightly movements in the ends of Shim’s smile, but it was a reaction regardless, and Rarity let herself enjoy the small victory. “Now, would this business happen to do with our little discussion from earlier today?” she asked, keeping her momentum rolling. “The one regarding my refusal to join your sleazy little operation?”

The musician snickered. “Ooh, look out, Sis. She’s a smart one.”

Shim ignored the musician and instead got up to look into the vault. “You should know, miss, we have rooms available. Furnished rooms, with windows and beds. Real beds, nothing like what you have in here.” She nodded at the small, cramped cot in the corner. “You can confirm with Mr. Mayor if you’d like, he knows we can keep our, assets comfortable. As long as they don’t cause us any trouble, of course,” Shim added, turning briefly to Burgo Masters who tore himself from his food long enough to look up and scowl.

“And am I right to assume that you are offering one of these rooms in return for my cooperation?” Rarity asked, an eyebrow partially raised.

“That, in addition to some other perks. I told you, with our help, you could very well live in comfort,” Shim declared. “It would be in both of our best interests for you to work with us willingly. Oh yes, we could certainly just keep putting you under a charm, but that would be just so tiresome, and what would you get out of it? Think about it.” Shim leaned forward, pressing her hooves against the bars. “We could get a room and bed prepared for you before bedtime.”

For a good few seconds, Rarity said nothing. Then: “Really? Is that it? A personal living space and some vague mentions of luxury?” Rarity smirked. “If that’s truly the best you have to give, it’s no wonder you can’t get anypony to do anything without resorting to trickery.”

The smile on Shim’s face faded. Her eyes started to narrow, and for a moment, Rarity wondered if she had overstepped. She kept her worries hidden behind an mask of indifference, however, as Shim sighed and shook her head.

“Ah well. Perhaps a little more time in here might help make you more agreeable.” The robed mare knocked on the vault’s exterior wall. “I know you’re an intelligent mare, miss, so do try to think of what you could gain by working with us as partners, as well as what you could possibly hope to achieve by struggling against us.”

Shim got up and with a smile and a bow, she and the musician started toward the room’s exit. As she reached the door, Shim paused to look over her shoulder. “Tomorrow will be another busy day, so get some sleep.”

A routine was soon established as the days passed, with each day starting with Rarity awakening and getting up whenever it was no longer comfortable just lying about. Burgo would either already be up or would be up in ten or so minutes, after which the two would spend the time talking. Usually, they would brainstorm and present any ideas of escape that came to mind, many of which were ridiculous and infeasible, but sometimes Burgo would tell stories about Horshire during its height or Rarity would describe how the weather was the previous day or the ponies she had met. These conversations were more of a means to stave off boredom than to achieve anything really, though there had been a couple of proposals they did build and expanded upon afterwards.

On most days soon after, perhaps just over an hour or so by Rarity’s best estimate, Shim and her sister would show, acting all friendly and such before the musician would bring out her lyre and start to perform. On occasion, once she had finished playing, she and Shim would leave the room, and Rarity and Burgo would have the rest of the day to themselves until it was time to go to sleep. Those days, they went to bed hungry, without having anything to eat all day, and Rarity’s supply of travel rations was quickly exhausted.

More often than not, however, that encounter would end with Rarity following Shim and the musician out per their request, and they would bring her up to Shim’s room for food and some cleaning up. Then, usually after a second private concert, Rarity would be brought to a cheering crowd that seemed to grow each time she saw it. Sometimes, she would simply stand by Shim’s side as the mare preached and just help with the collecting of donations at the end. Sometimes, Rarity herself would speak to the congregation, following the script Shim would have provided her as she told the ponies gathered before her of the tribulations she faced before the Great Protector rescued her. Rarity would pepper these tales with vivid details from events she did not recognize but could recall with eerie clarity, and Shim would eventually stop becoming upset over her going off script once she saw how awed and vulnerable the additions left the audience.

Some days, instead of speaking to a lobby full of worshipers, they would leave the repurposed bank and instead walk the streets of Horshire. Out there, Rarity would see other ponies, ponies who had never stepped inside the Great Protector’s temple, and she would watch their countenance twist in confusion and disbelief as Shim would speak out about her deity and about Rarity’s deliverance. There were times where, again, Rarity herself would speak to the doubter, and sometimes, the pony’s expression would turn to one of acceptance.

That had been the case with Ms. Innskeeper the innkeeper, and a couple of days later, Rarity saw her standing with the rest of the crowd in the front lobby, wearing those white robes.

They would never be out for long, no longer than an hour at most, after which Rarity would be returned to the vault, and she and Burgo Masters would have to try to amuse themselves with more of the same from the morning until supper, of which Shim and the musician would come down to provide. The requests for Rarity to join the sisters continued to be made, and occasionally the offer would be extended to Burgo, though the frequency of these requests soon dropped as their answer and stubbornness became predictable.

And so it would continue as days went by, blurring together until long before Rarity even knew it, she had lost track of time. Her desperation and impatience grew with every moment she wasted away in Horshire, but with her options limited, she was forced to wait and keep an eye out for the golden opportunity, as Burgo had described it, to arise. Part of her so very much wanted to do away all this waiting, but reason and caution won out in the end. It would do Spike and Discord no good if she was injured in their attempt to escape, and with how finite the resources she had to work with were, Rarity had little margin for failure.

So Rarity waited and endured the role of Shim’s puppet, looking for something to exploit as they paraded her around like a trophy. Then, one day after the conclusion of the sermon, Rarity noticed that a large number of ponies still lingered in the lobby, and a group stopped them just as they were about to go through the door.

“Mother Shim, Your Highness,” one of the ponies, the mare with the braided reddish mane, Sister Patsy was her name, Rarity believed, greeted with a respectful bow that the others with her imitated to which Shim responded in kind. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been talk that the Provenance Festival will still be happening!”

“Ah, is that right? And that’s the celebration for?”

“The founding of Horshire, of course,” the mare said excitedly. She was bouncing from hoof to hoof, and her grin was so wide, the tips of her mouth were approaching her ears. “With all that’s been going on, we weren’t sure we’d have one this year, but now everypony’s putting up the decorations and talking about setting up booths, and it’s all thanks to the Great Protector!”

The others had nodded in agreement as Patsy continued, saying, “We, we were hoping, if it were all possible, if Her Highness could be there that day to say a few words to the town. I mean, I don’t want to presume, but she will be there, won’t she?”

“Well, we’ll have to see. The princess and I do have a strict schedule to keep, and when is this festival exactly?”

“Could be as early as the end of this week, least that’s what I’ve heard,” one of ponies behind Patsy had declared.

“Ah. Yes, I’m afraid with so little time to prepare, we won’t be able to—“

“Hold on,” the musician interjected. “This festival, is it a big one?”

Patsy nodded. “Oh yes, it might be the biggest holiday in Horshire. Everypony will be out there that day.”

“Everypony, eh? Then I don’t see why we can’t make an appearance,” the musician said before Shim sent the ponies away and took the musician and Rarity into the building.

The two sisters argued along the way. There was a contrast in their personalities, Rarity had noted, that often led to arguments like this, in which the musician would call for something daring while Shim would demand caution. They were still going on about the risks of having Rarity out in such a noisy and chaotic environment versus the reward of reaching a larger audience by the time they had reached the vault on the floor below.

When Burgo inquired about their heated discussion, Rarity had told him about the upcoming festival and of the request made of her.

“Is it that time already? Hm.” The stallion leaned back and stroked his beard. “They’re really going ahead with the Provenance Festival, eh? And without me?” he grumbled. “If the destruction of the nation’s capital and everything else wasn’t going to cancel the holiday, you’d think the mysterious disappearance of their beloved mayor would have at least.”

“Then I take this is indeed a big event?” asked Rarity.

Burgo nodded. “Oh yeah. Huge. It’s a whole day thing, full of games and food and, well, it’s a festival. You know how they are. We’d even draw ponies from the neighboring towns, and we’d even get some traveling performers, though I guess that probably won’t be happening this year, the main road being how it is,” he said, his wistful expression visible even in the dark.

“Still, the whole town will be out, that much I guarantee,” he continued. “And it sounds like they want you to make a speech. Yeah, they were probably talking about the opener, when somepony, usually either the mayor or some big important guest, kicks things off. Hm, I wonder...”

The two shared a look. It was time. Their golden opportunity was finally arriving.

16. Who Pulls the Strings

Who Pulls the Strings

Shim and the musician must have come to some agreement as the very next day there was an announcement made. The crowd whispered excitedly amongst itself at the reveal that Princess Shmarity would be gracing the Provenance Festival with her presence. It would only be for an hour or so, Shim had said, but in that time they would be sure to allow the princess to say a few words and further spread the message of the Great Protector.

The rest of the week was spent preparing for the festival, with Shim and her sister working on a schedule for that day and drafting out the speech Rarity was to give. Whenever she was brought up to Shim’s room, Rarity would find the writing desk covered in sheets of parchment and the floor littered with crumbled wads and empty inkwells. The sermons were canceled, and instead of going out to spread the glory of the Great Protector, Shim and Rarity spent the days practicing and rewriting, changing this word and reworking that phrase. Intonations were directed, emphases replaced, articulations stressed and committed to memory. Shim left nothing to chance when it came to this address, and she made sure that the musician understood that there would be no room for risks or variables this time, no improvisation, no surprises. Keep her under control and stick to the script, Shim had instructed, and with evident reluctance, the musician conceded.

The day before the scheduled festival soon arrived, and at this point Shim was finally feeling satisfied with her speech and Rarity’s performance of it. The final rehearsal came and went, the itinerary for tomorrow reviewed and memorized, the room cleaned and put back into order, and that night, like most other night, Shim and the musician went down to visit them. The bowls of stew and the bread that normally came with them were, however, absent. All that was provided for tonight’s supper was some water.

“Aw, don’t give me that look,” the musician said with a sneer as she pushed in the jug. “They’ll be plenty of food at the festival tomorrow. We just want to make you’ll have the appetite. Well, her anyways,” she added with a motion toward Rarity before turning and grinning at Burgo. “You, we really just don’t like.”

“Indeed.” Shim took her position before the bars as the musician stepped back and secured the vault. “A pity, Mr. Mayor, that you will be missing out on such an important event. From what I gather, the mayor tends to play a significant role in the Provenance Festival.”

Burgo scowled and grunted something under his breath, but the insolence was unmistakable. At this, Shim simply smiled, her face illuminated by the lamp that she had brought down. “You may wish to know that I have had ponies ask of you. Many are wondering if you’ll be there tomorrow, and, well, I had to disappoint several ponies today. Perhaps, had you been a bit more flexible, we could’ve have come to some sort of agreement. You are, after all, still useful.” She shook her head. “Oh well, I suppose there’s always next year.”

The jug smashed against the bars. Pieces of ceramic flew into the room as water splashed onto the floor right in front of Shim. With an amused chuckle, she and the musician left Burgo and Rarity to wallow in their hunger. The last of the water in Rarity’s canteen was shared between them in an attempt to at least take the edge off the pain in their bellies, but it was hardly enough to make a much of difference.

Neither spoke much as the two got ready for bed, making sure everything was in place. For a good while, Rarity lay there on the provided bedroll as her empty stomach and a nervousness regarding the coming day kept her conscious, and from the lack of snoring coming from the cot, Burgo Masters was also struggling to fall asleep. Eventually, however, as the hours went by, their eyes became heavy, and slumber soon followed. Night passed. They awoke as they usually did, without any indication of whether it was really morning or not, and after some stretching and some face rubbing, the two turned to watch the door of the room.

“Are you going to be alright?” Rarity asked after Burgo let out another yawn. He had been fidgeting for some time already.

“Yeah, just, you know, I’m fine,” he tried to assure as he rolled his shoulders and his front hooves against the floor. “I’ll be fine. Just, I don’t like all this waiting.”

His body stiffened as the door swung open, and in stepped Shim and the musician. The mare in the white robes approached the vault’s window. “Good morning, miss, Mr. Mayor,” she greeted with a nod toward each pony as she addressed them. “I hope you are—“

Burgo didn’t let Shim finish. He rushed forward, causing Shim to take an instinctive step back and her sister to pull out a dagger. His foreleg suddenly wrapped around Rarity and pulled her roughly toward the stallion into what might have been seen as an embrace had it not been for the knife Burgo Masters was now pressing against the front of her neck.

“Nopony move!” he barked, holding the knife up higher to ensure that the blade was clearly visible.

The color from Shim’s face drained away. “What are you—“

“I said don’t move!” Burgo forced Rarity’s head up, inciting a pained gasp from her as he hovered the tip of the blade over her exposed throat. “You think I won’t do it? I know just how vital this mare is to your plans. You want to see what happens when your ‘princess’ isn’t around anymore to tell your followers what to believe?”

“Burgo, Mr. Masters, you need to calm down,” Shim said, holding up her hooves. “You don’t want to do hurt her.”

“Shut up!” Burgo looked over to the musician. “Drop your weapon. I said drop it!”

The dagger clattered against the floor. “Alright. Now you’re going to unlock the door,” he demanded, nodding to the vault’s gate. “Then you’re going to let me out, and I don’t want you giving me any trouble. Otherwise.” Burgo made a slashing motion across Rarity’s neck.

Shim and the musician turned to each other, their discomfort evident in the shared glance. Burgo made another gesture. “Alright, alright,” Shim said, nodding to the musician who started toward the gate. “Now please, put the knife down. I’m sure we can work something out.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” growled Burgo. “You’re going to let me out and then—“

“And then what?” Shim asked, her hooves lowering. “You’ll step outside into the crowded streets with her as your hostage? The whole town is out there right now, and keeping in mind that everypony out there believes her to be the princess, what do you think will happen? You won’t even make it out of this building.” Shim slowly started making her way toward the bars.

Burgo raised the knife back up to Rarity’s neck. “Not another step! I know what I’m doing. You can’t trick me.”

Shim stopped her approach. “There’s no trick. There’s no place in Horshire for you anymore, not with how you are now, but if you work with us, I know we can come up with a way that will benefit us all.”

The gate of the vault slowly opened. Burgo, with Rarity still in his grasp, started moving toward the exit only to find the way blocked by the musician armed with her instrument, the last few strums of the lyre’s still vibrating strings continuing to echo through the vault as she started to smile.

“You really don’t want to do this. Drop the knife and let the mare go.”

The mayor of Horshire released both the knife and Rarity. The blade fell to the floor, and as Rarity’s legs gave way, so did she. She brought a shaking hoof up to her throat and looked up at Burgo. The stallion’s expression was a mostly vacant one as he looked to the musician and waited expectantly.

“Good. Now apologize.”

Immediately, he lowered his head, first to the musician, then to Rarity and Shim. “I’m sorry.”

“Well then.” The musician let out a relieved sigh as she went over to retrieve her dagger and, after ordering both Burgo and Rarity to back away, went into their cell to pick up Burgo’s weapon. “That was a close one,” she said, pocketing the knife. “Now, er, let’s see. What now?” She glanced over to Shim. “Hey, Sis?”

Shim’s face was still pale, and the color was only returning slowly as she paced across the length of the room, muttering furiously to herself.

“Sis!”

“What?” Shim snapped. “What is it?”

“Just wanted to know what’re we going to do now. Yeesh, no need to go biting off my head.” The musician gestured toward Rarity. “I mean, I’m guessing that plan of yours wasn’t accounting for this to happen.”

“No, it did not,” Shim grumbled. “Oh, goodness me, what are we going do, what are we going to do?”

“You know, I’ve got another spell left for the day. I could get try and get her under the charm too. We could get them both out there to play the crowd.”

“No, that won’t work,” Shim declared, shooting down the suggestion with a quick shake of her head. “You know the charm only lasts for so long, and we have so much that needs to be done. That other spell slot was to extend its duration. Ugh!”

“Alright, alright, don’t pop a blood vessel,” the musician said. She looked back into the vault and at Burgo. “Maybe we can still make this work. We’ve got the mayor under our control. Let’s just have him do the speech. We can play this off as him recovering his faith or seeing the light or whatever.”

“They’re expecting the princess, not some fat, useless bureaucrat!” Shim exclaimed with a wild wave.

“Hey!”

“She doesn’t mean it. Really, we don’t think you’re useless,” the musician assured, quickly calming Burgo down before turning back to the panicking mare. “Well what else are we supposed to do? Just make some excuse up about her being sick or tired or whatever.”

“It’s not that simple,” Shim said, her voice weighed low with frustration and anger. “Right now, she’s a symbol of the Great Protector’s power. How do you think the town will react if that symbol can’t make even a simple appearance because of some fatigue? Ponies are going to get suspicious and start asking questions.”

“Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” the musician growled, her temper flaring. She turned to Burgo and Rarity. “Come on you two, back me up on this. At least I’m throwing out possible solutions and actually trying to do something, right?”

Burgo nodded. “All your ideas sound fine,” he said. “I don’t get why Shim doesn’t like them. I could give the speech, no problem.”

“See? Even the fat, useless bureaucrat, her words not mine,” the musician added with a glance toward the mayor, “gets it.” She turned to Rarity. “And what about, oh, right. You’re not under the charm. Well you could still at least say something.”

“That’s enough,” Shim interjected before Rarity could open her mouth. She had since come to a stop and held a hoof up to her forehead. “Just, give me a moment.” She let out a long sigh and took in a deep breath. A good few seconds passed before she finally exhaled. “Alright. What’s done is done, and there’s no way around it. The mayor will just have to give the speech, and we’ll just have to deal with whatever comes after. There’s no time to rework the speech so just, have him act mayoral or something.”

The musician nodded. “Hear that?” she said to Burgo. “You get to play mayor again.”

At this, the sole stallion in the room smiled. “Get him shaved and looking presentable,” Shim instructed with a sniff. “And do what you can about the smell. We might have some perfume still lying around somewhere. I’ll see what I can do to minimize the inevitable resulting backlash.”

“Got it. The musician tucked away her lyre and motioned Burgo over to her. “Come on, let’s get going,” she said, and at her command, the stallion stumbled toward the vault’s entrance.

“Wait.”

Burgo did not stop, but Rarity’s exclamation did draw Shim and the musician’s attention and give them noticeable pause, and when the two turned to her, they wore looks of surprise and confusion. Rarity got up off the floor and in a shaking voice, she said, “I-I have something to say. Please.”

Shim and the musician shared a glance before turning back to Rarity. “Very well,
but make it quick,” Shim said, motioning her to continue. “What do you want?”

“I—“ Rarity steadied herself with a quick inhale. “Please, let me do the speech.”

A long silence answered her before Shim did. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she said with an eyebrow cocked.

“I, I want to join you. I thought he was, and he, he tried to, and, I can’t do this anymore.” Rarity’s voice shook once more as her hoof was again lifted up to the spot the knife had been pressed against. “I can’t stand being down here any longer, not if it means being around, him.” Her lower lip was trembling, her eyes pleading. “I can do the speech. We’ve worked so hard on it, and I know exactly how you want it done. Please, I beg you, just let me out.”

Shim turned to the musician. “She’s not under your spell, is she?”

“What? Oh no, no. She’s saying all this willingly,” said the musician with a shake of her head. She broke into a wide grin. “But heck, this is great. Now we don’t have to worry about, hey Mr. Mayor, what was Shim so worried about again?”

“She was worried that if the mare who the town thinks is the princess doesn’t show up at the festival, our reputation will fall and ponies might stop believing in your made-up religion,” Burgo answered before frowning and scratching at his beard. “I mean, I think that’s what she was saying.”

“Right, that,” the musician said, shrugging as Shim pressed her lips together and threw her an annoyed glare. “So that’s all cleared up. The town will still have their ‘princess,’ our reputation stays safe, nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, so it would seem,” Shim said slowly. She had turned her gaze onto Rarity, staring even her sister continued to ramble excitedly.

“And now we’ve got the mayor back under our control too,” the musician cackled. “Oh, this is great. Come on, you two, let’s get ready. We’ll have you both give speeches. It’ll be great. The crowd’s going to love you, going to love us, and—“

“That wasn’t the plan,” Shim interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “We both agreed, no sudden changes, no improvising, no surprises, not today.”

“Yes, well, it’s a little late for ‘no surprises,’” the musician said with an exasperated wave at Burgo before letting out a sigh. “Look, I know how important this is, I’m the one who pushed for her giving the big speech, remember? I get that there’s a lot on the line here and that you really wanted everything to be perfect and without any risks and everything according to plan. You’ve been like that since we were foals, but sometimes we’ve got to work with what we’ve got, and right now, we’ve got both the princess here to preach your message and the town’s mayor to announce his renewed allegiance to work with. If anything, we’re in an even better position than before. I mean, you see what kind of opportunity we have here, don’t you?”

“I do,” Shim answered with some reluctance in her voice after a moment of silence.

“And you’re not seriously going to let that opportunity slip away just because it wasn’t in the plan, are you?”

Shim sighed. “No. No, you’re right,” she said. “Alright then. We’ll do it your way and have them both speak at the opening ceremonies. Just,” she added with a wince, “make completely sure that he’s under control. We won’t survive this if anything like the last time we had him out in public happens.”

“Don’t worry,” the musician said as she again beckoned Burgo Masters toward her. “I’ll make sure.”

She and Burgo soon exited the room and left Shim and Rarity with only each other. A couple of seconds passed in uncomfortable stillness before Rarity dared to take a wary step toward the vault’s open entrance. She stopped when Shim turned to face her, as if the mare’s line of sight had paralyzing properties, and for a good long moment, the two stood there, staring at each other.

“May I?” Rarity finally requested, pointing to the opened gate.

“Hm? Oh, yes.” Shim cleared her throat. “Right. Come along then. There’s still much to be done.” And with that, she led Rarity out of the room, to the staircase, and up to the ground floor, looking over her shoulder every other second or so to make sure Rarity was keeping up. Neither spoke until they had entered that familiar hall, when Shim suddenly stopped and turned to Rarity with a frown on her face.

“Would you, by any chance, happen to know how the mayor managed to get that knife?”

The question came with an uncomfortably intense stare that left Rarity’s mouth dry. She quickly swallowed before answering. “It, was mine,” she admitted. “I had it in my saddlebags.”

“Saddlebags?” Shim repeated, her frown deepening with confusion. “Did you have, ah, I can’t remember. And where are these saddlebags now?”

“Under the bed in the vault.”

“Hm, is that right?” Shim hummed, more to herself. “We’ll need to take a look later. Until we can ensure there’s nothing else in them that’s, suspect, consider those belongings of yours confiscated.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” They continued their way down to the end of the hall and reached Shim’s personal room. “I apologize if I am appearing short with you. With everything that’s happened already today, my patience has been, tested.” She reached for the door’s handle. “Rest assured, your cooperation is very much appreciated. It is a little late, but you will be rewarded accordingly.”

The door was opened, but neither stepped inside as the messy, ransacked state of the room was revealed. The floors, which had been clear when Rarity had last seen them yesterday, were once again littered with sheets and balls of paper and bits of trash and anything else that might have been swept off of the writing desk onto the ground. The nightstand’s drawers were ripped open, and Shim’s wardrobe was ajar. The contents of both could be found scattered about, with small personal effects like cloth handkerchiefs and gold necklaces on the floor and robes tossed onto the unmade bed and over the head of the stallion who stood in the center of the room with a dagger in his grasp and a bowl of water at his side.

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” the musician called from her position sprawled on the floor. She pulled her head out from the space beneath the bed. “What was taking you so long?”

Shim stared the blade the stallion was holding. “What’s going on?”

“Huh? Oh, you know, just looking for that perfume you mentioned,” the musician answered before sticking her head back under the bed. “And also some bandages.”

“Bandages?” Shim slowly inched into the room, keeping an eye on the armed stallion. “What happened?”

“Eh, nothing to worry about,” the musician assured. “I couldn’t find a razor in here and didn’t think there was time to go out to get one so I just gave the mayor my dagger. It, ah, didn’t really work, but I wouldn’t worry, it probably won’t leave anything we can’t cover up.”

Through grit teeth, Shim groaned as she snatched the dagger out of Burgo’s hold and removed the cloth from his head. “Alright, stop.” She made her way into the room and, after some rummaging, gathered a couple of brushes and combs into a bag and picked out a set of clean robes that were still hanging in the wardrobe. “Give me the key to the mayor’s old room. I’ll get her started over there then come help you with getting him ready. Just, stop making a mess.”

The musician got up, and, with a shrug, she dug out a ring of keys from her colorfully decorated vest and tossed it over to Shim. Shim, not bothering to even attempt a catch, picked the keys off the floor and exited the recently disheveled room. Rarity followed her back a little ways to a new door, and there she watched Shim first undo a chain latch and a set of bolts fastened to the door and its frame before taking a key to the locked handle.

“Here we are,” Shim announced as she opened the door and motioned Rarity inside. The room they entered was similar to Shim’s own, with an adequately size bed and a nightstand to its side, a small desk against one wall and a personal bureau with a cracked mirror at the one across, and even a shaggy red mat in the room’s center. The room was lit with the natural sunlight streaming through the glass window.

“This room was once the mayor’s,” Shim was explaining as Rarity walked around and absorbed her new settings. “He’s, ah, left his mark in some places,” she said, nodding toward the damaged mirror, “but for the time being, I believe you will find it satisfactory. As I’ve said, your continued cooperation will be rewarded, and depending how things go, we’ll see to getting you some additional comforts.”

Rarity pointed to the bed. “Those sheets, have they been washed since the mayor last used them?”

The smile Shim had given Rarity wavered slightly, and there was a short pause before she answered, saying, “They will be before the day’s end.” She set down the bag of brushes and such and the robes. “I’ll be back with some water and a wash cloth. I trust you can get started on your own mane?”

Rarity tossed her mane back over her shoulder and brushed aside a few clinging strands. “Oh, I believe I’ll manage,” she said, and despite her situation and current standing, she couldn’t help but add a little sass to her tone.

If Shim noticed any of the remark’s snideness, she didn’t show it. “Good,“ the mare said, and she turned and left the room. The door closed behind her, and there was the clicks of the lock being closed and of the bolts sliding back into their slots soon after. The sound of Shim’s hooves against the wood floorboards as she walked away slowly dissipated until there was nothing else to hear from the door’s other end.

Rarity grabbed the bag and the robes and brought them over to the dresser and the mirror before making her way to the window. Any thoughts of escaping through there were abandoned at the sight of the metal bars on the other side of the glass, and as she looked into a dark and dingy alleyway, the kind of unattractive space found between buildings that led nowhere and was largely just there to accumulate trash, Rarity recognized just how improbable the idea of flagging down a passing pedestrian for help would be.

If it really were that simple, Burgo Masters would have long since gotten free. Rarity tore herself from the window with a small sigh and walked back to the mirror. As she spread her supplies out on the dresser’s surface, she look up at her reflection for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t a perfect representation of her appearance, the branching crack that ran all across the reflective glass having left some details obscured, but it was certainly better than trying to catch a glimpse of herself in a pool of water.

Her reaction to her own appearance was mixed. The mare staring back at her was far from the standards Rarity held herself to, but it could have been much worse considering that she had spent about a week underground in an unventilated vault and the week prior on the road.

How long had she been away from home? It must have been close to a couple of weeks now at least, a stretch of time that had already exceeded the lengths of any of her previous missions and adventures. Rarity’s thoughts started wandered and turn to those of Ponyville. She wondered how her business was doing in her absence, how her family must have worried from not hearing from her for so long, how her friends must be working tirelessly for a way to bring back not just her but also Spike and Discord.

That is, if the rest of them hadn’t also been brought to these strange, foreign lands. Rarity shook herself mentally and refocused herself. Concentrate on saving Spike and Discord first. Then, with the draconequus’s nigh limitless magic, the three of them could figure out what to do after, whether it be to locate the rest of their friends or simply return to Equestria.

Rarity turned her attention back to her reflection. Those washes she had been roughly subjected to had kept her face clear of dirt at the very least, though she could have used some moisturizing soap or maybe even a mud mask and would most definitely be taking a facial treatment at the first spa she’d come across. What was far more concerning was the condition of her hair. Just as Rarity thought, Shim’s attempts at styling her mane, while successful in removing the tangles and keeping it neat and presentable, had left it dull, flat, and lifeless. Rarity immediately picked up a brush and got to work, and slowly, as she continued to brush and comb and caress, some of her mane’s luster had returned. The color was revived, its volume brought back, and there was now a shine and a brightness that had been missing before. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and she was still missing much of her signature curls, but it was the closest she could get to her mane’s former glory with the tools she had to work with, and with that, Rarity was content.

The Rarity in the mirror was now looking more like the Rarity she remembered herself as, sans the massive crack that split her face in two and left her eyes uneven and her smile crooked, and so she moved to the robes. Rarity removed the ones she had been wearing and quickly sniffed at the cloak she had underneath it and made a face. There was a slight sour smell to it. Again, it could have been much worse considering how long it had been on and the conditions it had been through, but she would need to give it a wash before much longer. And speaking of which, as much as she’d like to deny it, Rarity would also be needing a bath quite soon.

She heard the undoing of the door’s locks as she was just getting the new set of robes on. In stepped Shim with a large bowl and a towel who stopped and stood there blinking when Rarity turned to face her. “We should have had you fix your own mane to begin with,” she said, quickly recovering. “I have to say, you’ve done an impressive job capturing that regal style.”

Shim placed the bowl and cloth down at Rarity’s side and stepped back to give her some space to wash up. Once Rarity had finished thoroughly wiping down her face and neck, the two mares left the room, leaving the used towel and the basin behind to be cleaned up later. Instead of returning to Shim’s room, however, they continued to the bank’s front lobby where there was already a bit of a gathering as robed ponies ran about with baskets and bouquets. Those who saw Shim and Rarity stopped whatever task they had been doing and instead rushed over to them to give excited greetings and overly enthusiastic compliments. The crowd around Rarity quickly grew as more and more ponies took notice.

Shim clapped her hooves together loudly. “That’s enough. Everypony, back to work. There’s still much to be done. Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time to talk later,” she assured over a few raised protests. “There’s been, a change in plans, and the princess might have some more free time than expected.”

At this, the crowd’s excitement grew with fervor that carried on even as the ponies dispersed and returned to their duties. Shim stopped one of the passing stallion with a request for some food. “Something light, for the princess,” she instructed, and soon Rarity had herself a modest breakfast consisting of a bread roll and a bit of cheese that was enough to at least quiet her empty stomach. As she ate, she watched the ponies finish their work and begin to leave. Some tried to linger or even approach her, but those were quickly sent away by Shim until she and Rarity were the only ones remaining.

They were going over Shim’s speech, making sure Rarity could perform without being under the influence of the musician’s spell, when the musician walked into the lobby with Burgo Masters in tow. Well, Rarity could only assume that the stallion following the musician was Burgo. That scruffy beard of his had been shaved off completely, leaving his drooping, chubby cheeks smooth and bare and him with a face more fitting for an infant than a full grown stallion.

The way he polished off the rest of food was unmistakable Burgo, with his mouth hurriedly stuffed and crumbs flying everywhere. Rarity forced herself to ignore the utter disregard of table manners, something that was much more easily down when they were in the dark, as she continued to run through the speech Shim had prepared. “That’s enough,” Shim finally said, stopping Rarity with a raised hoof. “Good, good. Stay on script, and you’ll do fine.” She turned to musician. “And the mayor, is he ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” The musician tossed a rag at Burgo. “Clean your face. You’ve got crumbs all over it,” she instructed before turning to Shim. “Quit worrying, Sis. We’ve got this.”

The look Shim gave lacked any of the confidence the musician was exuding, but after a sigh, she nodded and got up. “Alright then. It’s time to go,” she announced, and the rest of them followed her out of the building.

17. Truths in Time

Truths in Time

Rarity’s view through the bank’s windows failed to do the day justice. The skies were bright, blue, and clear, with not a cloud above to block out the light and the warmth of the sun, and there was a cool, gentle breeze that was almost constant, the perfect weather for a festival. The songs of birds mingled with the cheers and eager exclamations of the ponies in the streets decorated with colorful streamers and the flowers of wild weeds. Stalls lining the road that led all the way through Horshire were already opened and selling food and trinkets and calling passing ponies over to play games. Large painted images of downtrodden settlers and wealthy traders hung all about town, from the walls of the buildings to the stands to random poles and stakes sticking out of the ground, depicting stories of a struggling settlement process and the establishment of successful trade respectively.

Some ponies stopped to gawk at them as Rarity and the rest of them walked by, but their number was far fewer than Rarity would have expected as most appeared to be more preoccupied with the festivities. Everywhere she looked, Rarity could find groups of ponies huddled around and chatting as they checked out the stalls or admired the decorations. Entire families were about, with elders telling stories as they pointed to the paintings to wide eye youngsters and bored adolescents while children dragging their parents to the stalls to demand gifts. Couples could be found blocking traffic as they leaned against each other and acted as if they were the only ponies in the world and those that were forced to go around them did not exist.

There were some wearing the white robes of Shim’s order, but most were in the typical Horshire attire, though the layer of dust on their vests and hats was notable thinner and many had on accessories like gold string bolo ties and colorful ribbons and beaded necklaces. Many of the mares had on bright dresses that in comparison to the drab outfits Rarity had normally seen them in could be considered fancy, and there were a few stallions in suit jackets and dress shirts walking the streets, with one particular stallion having a top hat.

As they continued their way to a raised platform in the center of town where a crude band consisting of jug flutist, a washboard guitarist, a drummer specializing in pots and pans, and a yodeler tried to entertain, Rarity noticed that there were also several ponies in hardened barding. Some had swords or clubs strapped to their sides while others leaned spears or improvised pole arms over their shoulders. Some stood at guard while others were on patrol, but regardless of what their assignment or equipment were, every single militia member looked miserable as they watched their carefree friends, neighbors, and relatives longingly.

Four of such ponies were waiting for them at the stage along with a small group of ladies and gentlecolts that were all in some of the more lavish attires of today. “Mother Shim,” boomed one bespectacled stallion in a blue waistcoat and matching jacket as he approached and bowed. Shim responded in kind. “Impeccable timing. We were just about to send somepony to go grab you. And here you are.” He had turned to Rarity with a massive grin splitting his face. “Our guest of honor, Princess Shmarity herself. Oh, this is indeed exciting. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet sooner, but keeping the town without the mayor directing us has been a full time job.”

He let out a loud laugh that started from his belly. “Oh, where are my manners? Forgive me, Your Highness. My name is—“

“There will be time for introductions later, I’m sure,” an old mare in a flowery yellow bonnet cut in coolly. Her lips were pursed as she stared down at Shim and the musician and slowly turned her cold gaze to Rarity. “So, this is the princess, freed from the Squid Wizard’s hold by that Great Protector of yours?” Some of the others behind the old mare scoffed and snickered at this, but she herself made no such dismissive gestures. Instead, a look of confusion and uncertainty lit up her wrinkled features for barely a second, there and gone so quickly Rarity almost missed it, before the mare turned away. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”

“Ah, apologies, Ms. Blossoms—“

“That’s Councilor Blossoms.”

“Of course, my mistake, Councilor,” Shim corrected with a bow. “But we would like to make a few last minute changes.”

Shim stepped aside as the musician brought Burgo up to the front, revealing him before the group. All looks turn to shock as the well dressed ponies let out a collective gasp. The nearby guards, meanwhile, in the presence of the mayor, whispered amongst themselves and looked to each other for directions.

The elderly mare was the first to recover. “What’s going on here?” she demanded. “Where has he been all this time?”

“Since the mayor’s public breakdown, we’ve been taking care of him,” Shim explained calmly. “Treatment of the mind is a delicate procedure, and we could not afford any interference. But you needn’t worry,” she assured. “The mayor has returned to his senses and would even like open the festivities. That is, of course, if you’ll allow it.”

“But of course,” exclaimed the bespectacled stallion who had initially spoken. “I mean, that is, traditional, the mayor’s job after all.” He looked to the others around him, and they slowly began to nod and speak out in affirmation. “If the mayor is up to the task, the stage is his. Only...” The stallion‘s grin flickered. “I was, looking forward to hearing the princess speak today.”

“That was actually going to be our next request,” Shim said. She motioned to Rarity to step forward. “The princess and I have worked quite hard on her speech. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?” She waited for Rarity’s nod before turning back to the group and continuing. “It would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste, and we were hoping that you would permit them both to say a few words before the festival begins in full.”

“Oh, well, that’s—“

“Irregular,” the old mare said, interrupting the eager stallion once more. “We wouldn’t want to hold up the entire festival by extending the opening ceremony.”

“Perhaps, if they were to keep their speeches short,” presented one of the group’s members, a stallion whose large farm hat that was decorated with a silver star that clashed with the rest of his outfit. The others muttered a variety of reactions to the suggestion and either nodded or shook their heads.

“Excuse us for one quick moment,” said another, a mare with red ribbons in her mane, tail, and dress. The group then walked some distance away, keeping the contents of their discussion hidden; all Rarity could hear of it were the sounds of their voices carried by the wind.

Before he had left, the stallion with the glasses and blue waistcoat gave them an apologetic smile. The musician rolled her eyes at his retreating figure. “I hate dealing with those geezers.”

“Well, it should become easier if we can keep the mayor under our control.” Shim sighed. “Her speech takes priority,” she said, pointing toward Rarity, “so make sure whatever you’re planning the mayor to say is short.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. You’re the wordy one here,” the musician said with a chuckle as she pulled Burgo to the side.

With those two gone, Shim turned to Rarity. “If we do have to cut down our speech, cut out some of the details from the middle. As long as you thank the townsfolk for their hospitality and the Great Protector for everything else and keep in the parts about needing to further our message throughout Spiketopia, we should be fine.”

“Very well,” Rarity answered with a nod. “I believe I can manage that.”

“Yes, well, we shall see.” Shim frowned. “Actually, hm. We should just go over the speech and point out all of the less necessary parts, just to make sure everything is clear.”

“I don’t think there’ll be time.” Rarity pointed Shim to the returning dressed up ponies. The musician noticed their approach as well and brought the mayor back right before they arrived.

“We’ve come to a decision,” the old mare on the bonnet declared. “We are willing to extend the opening ceremony by a few minutes but only just those few. If you can fit the, ahem, princess in that time, we will allow her to speak.”

“That is acceptable.” Shim made a show of a bow. “Thank you, Councilor.”

The mare sniffed as she continued to stare with cold, skeptical eyes. She turned to Burgo. “We have much to discuss, Mr. Mayor. I trust you can spare some time after the opener before you run off to enjoy the festival?”

“Ooh.” The musician winced. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Shim shot a glare at the musician as she lifted up a hoof toward the old mare whose eyes were rapidly narrowing at the musician’s flippant statement. “Apologies, but the mayor is just here to make an appearance. He is still recovering after all and needs his rest. I’m afraid whatever it is you wish to talk about will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Is that right?” the mare asked as her frown deepened into a scowl.

Shim responded with a small, disarming smile, but there was a challenge to be found in her steely stare. “Yes, that it is.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” the stallion in the glasses suddenly said, breaking the silence that had grown between the two mares. “A pity for sure, but what can you do, eh?” He chuckled nervously, and some of the others echoed him. “We’ll have to catch up tomorrow then, but for now—“ The stallion reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a brass pocket watch. “—we should probably get started. Come on, let’s get going.”

The rest of the group voiced their agreements and motioned them along. Rarity, Burgo, Shim, and the musician were quickly moved up to the back to the stage as the well dressed group dispersed, with many leaving to join the crowds. Only three from the group stayed: the bespectacled stallion, the old mare in the yellow bonnet, and another stallion, this one wearing a gray suit with a fake flower in his front pocket and his mustache waxed and properly curled. They signaled to the band, and once the performers had finished their piece, taken a bow, and left the stage to a few isolated smatterings of applause, they brought Burgo up onto the stage and to the front where an old fashioned megaphone was waiting.

From the steps leading up to the raised platform, Rarity watched Burgo clear his throat and lean forward. “Hello? Can everypony hear me?” he called out. The funnel amplified his voice, spreading it throughout the entire town, and soon, even from her vantage, Rarity could tell that everypony had gathered at the base of the stage, their mutterings in such great volume that their surprise could heard even from back there. “Can everypony hear me? Yes? Good, good.”

Burgo Masters looked back at the musician, and at her nod he turned back to the crowd. “Ahem, yes. Good day, Horshire. I guess it’s been a while since you all last saw me. Well first off, I just want everypony to know that I’m doing fine. Second, thank you everypony for showing up today. I know we weren’t exactly sure whether we’d be having a Provenance Festival this year, what with everything going on, but here we are.”

A cheer broke out from the crowd that slowly swelled until it became deafening, and Burgo waited for the hurrahs to subside before he continued. “Now before we begin, I would like to say a few words. First, I’d like to again thank everypony here today, for without you, there wouldn’t be a Provenance Festival and there wouldn’t be a Horshire.”

There was another cheer.

“Second,” Burgo said even as the cheering was still dying down, “I need to apologize for my outburst from before. I understand that because of the horrible, baseless accusations I made at Mother Shim, I have caused some of you to lose faith in the Great Protector. All I can do is ask for your and the Great Protector’s forgiveness.”

As Burgo lowered his head to the floorboards of the stage, the crowd started to whisper. The old mare in the yellow bonnet turned to where Rarity, Shim, and the musician stood waiting.

Burgo raised his head. “Finally, I need to thank Mother Shim and all of you faithful to her teachings for helping me come back to my senses. But above all, I must thank the Great Protector for bringing me back to the light.” He tilted his head up to face the perfect blue skies above and held up his hooves toward the sun. “For by liberating Princess Shmarity and bringing her here to our humble town, I have been shown the Great Protector’s wondrous power and have seen how far their mercy extends.”

The crowd was stirring. Suddenly, Rarity lost her footing and would have stumbled off the stairs had the musician not been there to catch her. Thanking her, Rarity steadied and braced herself, but the tremors had already stopped. She turned to the musician and Shim and saw that neither had much of a reaction. Shim even had a hoof raised and didn’t seem bothered despite only having an uneven number of legs to stand on. Rarity wondered, had it just been her who felt the ground shake?

“Now I’m going to turn the time over to Her Highness and let her say a few words of her own, but before I do, I have one last thing to say,” Burgo announced with his gaze lowering back down to his audience. “A request to all of you gathered here today. Accept the Great Protector as your great protector. Come join us in the truth, and help us spread the good news so that all of Spiketopia may live freely. Donations are always welcomed, and there will be a collections box available today in front of our temple. Thank you and enjoy the festival.”

And with a bow, Burgo left the stage. The applause that followed him sounded uneven and uncoordinated, as if starting in different parts of the crowd at different times. He spared only a couple of words to the three dressed up ponies before making his way to Rarity, Shim, and the musician.

“How was that?” Burgo asked, grinning eagerly as he looked to the musician. “I kept it short just like you said.”

“Eh, not bad, considering,” the musician answered with a smirk. She motioned him out of Rarity’s way just as the mare in the bonnet walked up.

“You’re up. Princess.”

Rarity wondered if the pause before the title had been deliberate, and though the mare was clearly addressing her, her glare was directed at Shim. “Do try to keep it short,” the mare said before turning to Burgo’s retreating figure. “Surely you can at least stick around for the princess’s speech, Mr. Mayor. Perhaps we can discuss a few things in that time.”

“I’m very sorry, Councilor Blossom, but—“

“I was talking to the mayor,” Blossom Interrupted with a stern look that Shim matched with one of her own.

“I have told you already, the mayor needs his rest.”

“He looks healthy enough to me. A little thinner, perhaps, but that can be fixed with a nice brunch over which we can go a couple of thing.” The old mare turned to Burgo. “He is a grown stallion. I believe he can make his own decisions.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t want to waste his time with you right now,” snapped the musician. She turned to Burgo as well. “Isn’t that right? You’d rather go rest now, wouldn’t you?”

“I—“

“Ahem.”

All turned around to find the stallion in the glasses tugging at the collar of his waistcoat. “I, uh, hate to interrupt, but if Your Highness could get started,” he said with a nod in Rarity’s direction, “that would be great.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the megaphone and the gathered ponies behind it and grimaced. “The crowd’s getting restless just waiting around and all, and I don’t think we can keep everypony’s attention for much longer.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” Rarity brushed past both Shim and the councilor as she stepped up onto the stage. “My apologies, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

“Wait.”

Now all eyes were on Shim. “Yes, Mother Shim?” Rarity prompted with a tilt of her head and a smile.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” Shim waved Rarity away. “Go ahead. Just, go.”

Rarity nodded and continued on as Shim, the musician, and the old mare continued to bicker, their arguments following after her until she had reached the stage’s center and could no longer hear them. They were replaced instead by the combined mutterings of the crowd below, and as she approached the edge of the platform where the megaphone was waiting for her, she stepped into view, and the sea of ponies before her, from foals not yet old enough to walk on their own to mares and stallions whose names have long since gone grey, became silent.

Rarity took a breath to steady herself and to slow the rush of blood as her heart pumped furiously. Such nervousness was unbecoming of mare who lived and thrived in the public spotlight such as herself. This was no different than a fashion display, she told herself, no different than performing in a play or as part of a singing troupe.

She leaned forward. The crowd, as a single unit, held its breath.

“What was just said to you has been a lie. There is no Great Protector. The mayor is currently under the influence of magic and was forced by Shim to say such things.”

Rarity looked down at the crowd. The initial lack of reaction was discouraging, but slowly those faces turned to looks of confusion and concern. The eyes of some narrowed while those of others widened, and many turned to their neighbors and resumed their whisperings.

Rarity took this as a cue to continue. “Those of you who have seen me and have heard me speak in Shim’s support,” she declared, placing a hoof over her chest, “know that I too was put under their spell and used against my will to further Shim’s interests. She has been deceiving you, taking advantage of your fears, stealing—“

The megaphone flew to the side as Rarity was tackled off the stage and into the dirt below. Ponies ran, their screams filling the air as she felt the ground tremble beneath their panicked hooves. Blows rained down upon her, and she pulled her forelegs over her head to protect it. Her back legs kicked out, hitting nothing but air as she shrugged and wiggled to escape from beneath her assailant. Rarity could feel their hot breath against her, and she listened as it grew more haggard with each blow.

The assault slowed, the strikes reducing in number and in forced. Rarity’s eyes flew open, and she pushed back at the with all of her strength. The musician snarling over her remained unmoved, but her hoof had hook around something in the attempt. Rarity swung desperately, and the musician yelped and jumped back as her own lyre raked across her face.

Rarity hurried onto her hooves and made a mad dash down the road, toward the scattering, panicking crowd. She ignored the screams behind her and the demands for her to stop, not even pausing to brush off the dust from her clothes. If she could just reach the crowd, she would be able to hide herself in chaos. After that, well, Rarity had to admit she hadn’t consider her plan much further than this point, but she figured it would only be a matter of time before Shim’s grip on the town crumbled and she and her sister were dealt with accordingly.

The cries behind her were growing louder. There was a thunderous storm of hooves that was getting closer. Rarity took a quick peek over her shoulder, and at the sight of Shim, the musician, and several armed guards coming after her, she forced herself faster.

”Halt!”

Suddenly, her mind went blank. Rarity’s hooves dug into the dirt as they forced her to a stop at Shim’s command, and by the time her thoughts had returned, she had no time to wonder about what had just occurred. She was surrounded, with two militia ponies in front of her and one at each of her sides. She turned around only to see Shim, the musician, and Burgo Masters quickly approaching from behind.

“You, you’re going to pay for that,” growled the musician, her beautiful face now twisted by rage into something unrecognizable. She yanked her dagger out from her vest and took a step toward Rarity as Rarity took a step back.

Shim stopped the musician with a raised hoof. Her lips were pressed so tightly in anger that the rest of her face broke out in wrinkles, and the look in her eyes far exceeded any frustration or impatience that Rarity had seen in them before. Still, it was better than the downright murderous glare the musician was giving, and at least she still looked like she could be reasoned with.

“I—“

“Spare us your excuses,” Shim said, her voice low and dangerous. She turned to the guards. “Capture her.”

Rarity’s body stiffened, readying to be grabbed. The armed ponies around her, however, hesitated. None of them approached any closer, and they instead looked to each other, as if daring to see who would be the first to obey.

“Well, what are you doing?” Rarity’s ears flattened at the musician’s shrill scream. The musician turned to Burgo. “Hurry up and get her!”

“Er, right.” Burgo motioned to the guards, and with a shrug to one another, they slowly circled around her and drew in.

“Easy, miss,” one said while another slowly took out a club. “Just take it easy, and nopony will get hurt.”

Rarity tore through the borrowed robes and pulled out one of her daggers, the more standard one Huntress had given her. The approaching ponies stopped and yelled out, telling her to put the weapon down. Some backed away and held up their hooves, dropping their own weapons, when she turned to face them.

When Rarity’s gaze turned to Shim, the mare scowled, and she let out a tired sigh. “You’re no better than he was,” she said with a quick glance at the mayor. “Struggling so stubbornly even though you know you’ve lost.” She shook her head. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself.”

Shim took a step closer. Rarity held up her blade, and everypony flinched. She looked to Burgo. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Shim. This is your loss.”

Rarity drove the blade through the strings of the lyre. Each string made a sharp twang as it was cut, and when the last one had been sliced through, the ruined instrument was tossed down to the ground. The moment that followed was silent, with nopony making a move or even daring to breathe.

Then, for the second time today, Rarity was tackled to the ground. This body was heavier than the first, and the fact that they weren’t trying to hit her barely outweighed their odor or the feeling of their sweat soaking into her own coat. “Let go of me, you brute,” she cried as she tried to break free, but the body held her down.

“Get her up,” Rarity heard the musician demand, and a moment later she was back on her feet. Her captor had wrapped a leg firmly around the front of her neck, keeping her in place, and she squirmed in their hold as she felt their warm breath so closely against her nape.

The musician approached her, giving Rarity little time to wallow in her discomfort as the mare commanded her attention. The small relief she had from seeing the musician sheath her dagger quickly faded when Rarity saw that the dark glint in the mare’s eyes had not. With each step she drew closer, and with each step Rarity’s heart beat faster. The musician stopped at the curved mess of broken string that had once been her lyre. She bent down and picked it up out of the dirt.

“I’m not sure why you did that, it’s not like that would’ve broken the charm, but you owe me a new lyre.”

The broken instrument was dropped as the musician swung her hoof. The sudden blow forced her head to turn, and she gasped out from the stinging pain. She stumbled back, forcing the pony holding her to back away along with her. “Hold her still,” the musician growled as she stepped forward to swing again.

This time, Rarity saw the hoof rise and come toward her. She ducked her head as far as it could go and winced as she prepared herself for the impact. There was the loud sound of a hoof striking against a face and a pained yelp, but neither came from Rarity. The grasp around her was released, and she fell to the ground.

“Darn it all, I told you to hold her still! Can’t you do anything right?” Rarity looked up to see the musician screaming over her at Burgo. The stallion was holding his cheek and cowering as the musician continued to shout.

Shim placed a hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “Calm down. Right now, if we want any chance of getting through this, we need to come up with a plan. Get them back to the temple, and we’ll sort something out there.”

“Just, argh!” The musician jerked away from Shim’s touch. “Fine. I get it. You,” she said, pointing at Burgo. “You heard Shim. Get her and yourself down to the temple and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. We’ll deal with the two of you there. Well what are you waiting for? Hurry up!”

Slowly, Burgo lowered his hoof and blinked. His brow furrowed as if in concentration, and his eyes started narrowing. “No.”

The musician stopped and turned back to the mayor. “What did you say?”

“Guards, by order of the mayor, arrest these two at once,” Burgo commanded, putting on an authoritative glare as he pointed at Shim and the musician, and before either of the two could react, they found themselves underneath a pile of ponies in heavy barding.

“Here.” Burgo extended a hoof to Rarity and helped her up. “That was some quick thinking on your end. That was a sure surprise. Didn’t think I’d end up getting charmed.”

“How are you feeling?” Rarity asked.

“S’all right. Could use something to eat.” He chuckled to himself and winced as he brought a hoof to his bruised cheek.

A yell from behind got their attention, and Rarity and Burgo turned around to see the old mare in the yellow bonnet hurrying toward them at a pace that should not have been possible on those old limbs of hers. An escort of guards followed her closely, and behind them, Rarity could just make out the blue of the bespectacled stallion’s vest as he struggled to catch up.

“Mr. Mayor,” the mare greeted the moment she arrived. She coughed and held up a hoof, waving away any offered assistance as she caught her breath. “Mr. Mayor, are you—“ She paused and looked down at the pony pile to her side. Muffled swears and curses could be heard coming from the very bottom. She turned to Rarity, then to Burgo with a raised eyebrow.

“Shim and her sister,” Burgo said with a gesture to the hill of equine bodies, as if that was enough of an explanation. “I’m having them arrested for, uh, magically tampering with the brain of the mayor, and, and trying to take over the town, without a permit. Yeah, that sounds legal. Er, I can do that, right? Making arrests?”

The mare continued to regard Burgo with a quizzical look for a few additional moments. “So she was telling the truth then,” she eventually said, turning to Rarity. “Shim had you under a spell.”

“Yep.”

“And you are?”

“No longer under the spell,” Burgo announced cheerfully. He started to grin only to wince and grab his bruised cheek. “Oh, and assaulting the mayor. That definitely can’t be allowed.”

“Hm.” The mare motioned her guards over. “Take them to the cells in the barracks, and make sure they’re properly gagged and bound. They are to be under the watch of no less than four of you, understand? If they are indeed magic users, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Yes, ma’am!” exclaimed the guards, and they quickly rushed over to the pile of their colleagues and begun helping them up.

“This isn’t over!” the musician screeched as the militia ponies lifted her up and bound her legs. “You haven’t heard the last of the Shim and Sham sisters! Mark my words, you’ll—“

That’s as far as she got before the guards slipped a strip of cloth over her snout. They were just about to march her and Shim away when the blue vested stallion in the glasses finally arrived, and right behind him was a large menagerie of townsfolk, from militia members to the well dressed ponies of group he and the old mare had been a part of to the worried white robed followers of Shim to the everyday ordinary citizens in plains clothes whose curiosity had outweighed their panic.

“What’s, going on, here?” the stallion gasped, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. “Wait, where are you taking Mother Shim? Why is she, are those shackles? What in blazes is happening?”

He and a few of the ponies in robes took a couple of steps toward Shim and the guards pulling her along, but the old mare stood between them and they, stopping them from getting any closer. “It appears that your faith was misplaced,” she said with a frown and a disdainful glance in the direction of the two charlatans.

“I-I don’t understand. What do you mean?” the stallion said as the ponies around him whispered amongst themselves, with the ones in robes being the most vocal as many stepped forward and, like the bespectacled stallion, demanded answers.

When the old mare turned back to Shim’s victims who had gathered around her, Rarity noted that she regarded them with a look of scornful pity. Her eyes were narrowed, and the ends of her lips were dragged down into a scowl. “You were tricked. Their religion was nothing more than a fraud. It’s just as this young lady said.” She nodded toward Rarity.

At this the crowd exploded. Many of those in white robes shouted at the elderly mare, demanding that she take her words back while others turned to their fellow worshipers nervously. The ponies of the more traditional clothes continued their mutterings but kept them exclusively to those of similar garbs and looked to their robed neighbors with shaking heads. The few dressed up mares and stallions joined the old mare in yellow and the stuttering stallion in blue.

“This, I-I don’t, then—“ He turned to Burgo. “Is it true? Were you, really under a spell?”

Burgo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I was. All those things I said earlier, they forced me to say them. Sorry to have to break it to you like this.”

“But, the healing, it can’t be. They couldn’t have, and, I gave them so much.” The stallion swayed, and his glasses slipped off and fell into the dirt just as he fell against the shoulder of the mare next to him.

“Get him some water and lay him down in the shade until he gets a hold of himself,” the bonneted old mare instructed, and as the stallion was hobbled away, she turned to Burgo. “And you, Mr. Mayor, how are you feeling?”

“Well, like I said, hungry. I could go for a baked potato or some fried potato sticks.” He looked over at the deserted stalls and frowned. “I suppose I can wait.”

The mare in the yellow hat followed his gaze. “I hardly think anypony is in the mood for a festival,” she chided disapprovingly as the nearby members of her dressed up committee nodded and spoke out to agree. To emphasize her pointed statement, the mare waved Burgo to the street behind her where the once festive ponies slowly regathered.

Decorations that had been knocked down in the chaos now littered the road, with colorful streamers being trampled into the dirt and mud. The songs of merriments had been replaced with the crying of foals, and many of the townsfolk looked confused as they made their way into the growing crowd, whispering as they searched for answers. The number of armed guards had increased as more and more arrived at the scene. Several of the newcomers and the younger militia ponies reaching for their weapons out of both nervousness and excitement, which in turn only contributed to the swelling anxiety.

And then there were Shim’s followers, wandering the streets aimless in their robes of white, like lost lambs that had gotten away from the safety of their pens. Their faces had fallen into expressions of confusion and disbelief, of rage, and of despair as the news spread through the whispers, with a few swooning just as the stallion in the glasses had. Some had gathered a short distance away from the mayor and Rarity but got no closer as she noticed their looks of anger and desperate hopefulness.

Burgo winced as he turned away. “I, uh, guess nopony’s really in the mood for a festival, huh?” His weak chuckle died under the old mare’s stern gaze. “You think we should cancel?”

The old mare sighed heavily. “Yes, I believe that would be the best course of action right now.”

“I can’t agree.”

Everypony turned to Rarity. “Excuse me?” said the old mare, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh no, excuse me,” Rarity responded quickly with the most disarming smile she could muster. “I apologize if I spoke out of turn. It’s just, and I have to first say that I’m no expert at these sort of events, but setting all this up must have taken much of your time, and it would just be a pity to let your efforts all go to waste.”

The ponies before her followed her hoof to the stalls and the posters. “It did take us all day getting everything ready,” one stallion muttered loudly enough for those around him to hear and nod.

“Would be a shame to not try one of those fried potatoes after scrounging up all that oil,” said another.

“And this festival, it’s called the Provenance Festival, correct?” Rarity continued. She waited for them to nod in confirmation. “And I understand that it marks the founding of Horshire. Surely you wouldn’t cancel the celebration of something that significant over the ousting of a couple of interlopers.”

Ponies in dusty work vest and farm hats and plain frocks now joined those in suits and colorful dresses, and even a few in Shim’s white robes were gathering around to hear Rarity speak. “Your mayor is back, and the town is yours once more. Why, if anything, you have all the more reason to celebrate.”

Many more were nodding along to the points Rarity presented and spoke out in support of her case. The old mare in the flowery yellow bonnet was, however, not among that growing number. Even as phrases like, “She’s right” and “That’s not a bad idea” were being tossed around by her own colleagues and fellow committee members, the old mare continued to stare at Rarity with a frown and a look of suspicion on her face.

“Do you really believe our town is in any position to celebrate?” she finally said, silencing those around her. “After everything we’ve been through just today, you really think we should be partying?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Rarity. “After all, it is still the town’s anniversary. The town is still here. You all are still here, even after everything. Truly that’s worth celebrating, is it not?”

The old mare blinked, and for the briefest of moments, Rarity thought she saw the mare’s lips twitch into a smile. “Mr. Mayor?” she asked, looking to Burgo. “Your thoughts on the matter?”

“Huh? Me? I mean, yeah, of course,” Burgo exclaimed. He rubbed at his face, stroking at a beard that was no longer there. “I mean, I think she’s right. The Provenance Festival is all about Horshire, and, well.” He motioned to the dirt road, to the buildings lining the road, and to all of the ponies that had gathered before them. The crowds that had populated the street earlier were slowly returning, with more and more ponies coming back now that the dust was good and settled. “This, is Horshire, and, uh, geez, you know I wasn’t elected for my public speaking.”

Giggles spread through the crowd as the mayor gave out a rueful smile. “But come on, you get what I’m getting at, right?”

The old mare was silent for just a couple seconds longer before she broke out in a sigh. She turned to her well dressed fellows beside her. “How long will it take to fix everything?”

The ponies looked around for a bit, tilting their heads and tapping their chins as they whispered to one another. “No more than an hour,” declared the mare in the red ribbons acting as the spokespony. “Maybe even in half that time.”

The entire crowd turned to Burgo, but it took the old mare clearing her throat for him to realize what was happening and react. “Ah, yes. Then as mayor of Horshire, I declare the commencement of this year’s Provenance Festival! Er, as soon as everything is cleaned up.”

The beginnings of a thunderous cheer was cut off by a wail, and everypony turned to the source. It was the mare with the braided red mane and tail, Sister Patsy, still in her robes along with half a dozen or so of her fellow worshipers looking as miserable as she did.

“Don’t any of you see?” she cried out. “If there’s no Great Protector, then there’s nothing keeping us from suffering the same fate as the capital or Bakersfield! We’re all doom! What’s the point of celebrating Horshire when we are all going to be destroyed?”

A sobering mood fell upon the crowd like a storm cloud rolling over a once perfect day. “But nothing’s happened yet,” one pony exclaimed. “Maybe, maybe nothing will ever happen.”

“Yeah! Horshire’s doing fine!” shouted another. “What makes you think anything will happen to us?”

“Don’t you remember those visitors from a week ago?” Patsy asked. “Didn’t you hear where they were escaping from? The east, from Trotlen! That great evil and its forces are on the move again, destroying towns and cities, and there’s nothing to stop it from destroying the rest of us!”

“We can take them,” said a guard, a young one by the immaturity of his voice. A few of his fellows that were just as experienced voiced their support, but there was a much greater amount of grim, scolding laughter in response to the assertion.

“They took out the entire royal guard and all of their knights, with all of their real training and real weapons. Twice. What are we supposed to do against that?”

“Well what about those heroes everypony keeps talking about?” somepony asked. “Surely they’ll—“

“They’re just rumors. And even if they were real, what can a bunch of adventurers do that an army can’t?”

Cheers turned to bickering as the crowd split and argued. Burgo Masters’s attempts to restore order and garner attention fell flat as the townsfolk ignored his pleads and the waving of his forelegs. He looked to the old mare and the rest for help, but they were already busy trying to calm those nearby and, from the fearful expression on some of their faces, themselves. The few that could spare a glance at Burgo could only offer worried looks before turning their attention back to the panicking ponies around them.

The mayor let his legs lower and his shoulders sag. He opened his mouth for one last petition, one final, desperate attempt keep his town from collapsing.

“That’s enough!”

Burgo blinked. That didn’t sound like his voice, not at all. It was too high in pitch, too light in tone. Too feminine. Too confident. He and much of the crowd turned to Rarity as she made her way through the masses, shutting up the individual squabbles with a light touch and and a hard glare.

“Listen to yourselves,” she shouted, turning to all around her. “You’re acting as if the world has already ended, as if losing your homes and your families and friends to the whims of that magical squid is inevitable.”

A gasp rose from the crowd.

“Well it’s not over! There are still those out there fighting to protect you. And not some made up all powerful deity demanding your offerings but real creatures you can see and meet. Heroes who’ve risked everything for ponies like you.” Rarity pointed to a random pony in the audience. “And you.” She moved her hoof toward another. “And.” Her eyes and her hoof managed to find Patsy, the mare with the red braids, standing with her fellows in white robes. “And you.”

Nopony spoke for several seconds. Then, Patsy swallowed and stepped toward her. Ponies quickly moved out of the way. “How do you know?” the mare demanded.

“Because,” Rarity began, then paused. She took a deep breath. “Because I am Princess Shmarity Glory Sparkler de Tabitha.” The image of a powerfully built stallion with a mane and beard that resembled that of a lion next to a beautiful mare who’s curls match Rarity’s when they were done properly suddenly flashed through her mind. “Daughter of King Sovereign Regalia the Fourth and Queen—“ Rarity fought back a cringe. “.—Opalescence, sole heir to the throne of Spiketopia, descendant of the great hero Herro, born under the star of the winter phoenix...”

A list of descriptions and titles rolled off her tongue like the torrent off a waterfall. Words that held no meaning to Rarity rapidly left her lips, and yet she somehow understood every single one she spoke. The authority in her voice that had captivated the entire crowd surprised even her, and it wasn’t until her breath was spent and her chest rose and fell heavily as her lungs struggled to compensate that she finally stopped. The crowd watched her with wide, anticipating eyes, waiting with their own breaths bated for Rarity to continue.

“I am living proof that the Squid Wizard isn’t invincible,” she exclaimed. Another image flashed by, this one of the ruins of a once great city. Rarity suppressed a shudder. “They are powerful, yes, but they can most definitely still be beaten. Those heroes you’ve heard about are real, and thanks to their efforts, I am here before you today, ready and willing to fight against the Squid Wizard’s tyranny and take back this land.” Her gaze swept across the crowd. “I won’t ask you to come and fight for me, but as long as you have your families and your friends, I ask that you have hope.”

Rarity caught her breath as she lowered her hoof and slowly got down from the stall she had climbed on, all while fighting to keep her blush at bay. There was a reason why they usually left the grandiose motivational speeches to Twilight Sparkle. Rarity, lacking Twilight’s talent for this sort of thing, couldn’t help but feel that her attempts to raise the ponies of Horshire’s spirit were more than a little cheesy. As Rarity looked to gauge the crowd’s reaction, she could only hope that her audience was more receptive to her words than she was.

Slowly, ponies started to move again as they turned to their neighbors and waited for somepony else to act first. Nopony said a word. Not a whisper or utterance was made, and most that Rarity could see still looked in utter shock.

The sullen old mare was the one to take the first step forward. As she did so, she undid the yellow bonnet and removed it from her head, revealing an almost entirely gray mane tied back in a tidy bun and an unicorn’s horn. Her gaze met Rarity’s, with those sharp brown eyes still filled with suspicion and caution as they tried to pierce through Rarity’s own blues. However, Rarity saw that distrust faded, and the mare’s expression softened for the first time since she and Rarity had met.

It was now Rarity’s turn to be caught off guard as the old mare suddenly lowered herself into a bow. Not a nod or some kind of polite gesture, but a true bow of deference, with her head down and legs bent at the knee.

“Your Highness,” she said. There was none of her previous hesitation this time when she addressed Rarity. “I welcome you to Horshire.”

Starting from those nearest to the old mare, ponies followed suit until the street before Rarity was full of ponies bowing toward her. At the overwhelming sight of an entire town lowering itself before her, Rarity’s mouth ran dry. So distracted was she and busy were her processing faculties that she hardly had any attention to spare for Burgo’s stream of questions.

“Wait, what’s going on? What’s everypony doing? Why are you all bowing?”

“Mr. Mayor,” the old mare said with a sigh, “please stop embarrassing your town before the princess.”

Burgo blinked slowly as he turned to face Rarity, who, having recovered from her shock, was busy trying to help ponies up and assure them that such displays were unnecessary. “Wait, then, you’re actually—“ He gulped. Color drained from his face, and he stumbled back a few steps before fainting away.

18. City of Danger

City of Danger

By the time Hoshire’s mayor had come to his senses and returned to the realm of the conscious, the festival was ready to begin once again. The mess had been cleared away, the decorations were fixed and replaced, and the merry mood from earlier was restored.

Well, more or less restored. The confirmed presence of the princess whom many considered lost lending her assistance had certainly generated some additional buzz amongst the townsfolk, as well as the standard anxiety that came with having to entertain such an esteemed guest. There had been some earlier excitement going around when Shim had revealed that Princess Shmarity would be making an appearance, especially from Shim’s followers, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of actually having Her Highness next to you, speaking to you, and getting you help when you forget to breathe.

The festivities had soon begun in proper after Burgo Masters gave one final speech, which eventually had to be cut off as it ran long, but instead of running through the street and checking out what all the different booths had in store with the rest of the town, he and Rarity were pulled inside by the old mare and the rest of her colleagues to discuss certain matters. Burgo groused the entire way, but Rarity didn’t mind the break from having to tell ponies they didn’t have to bow or stand at attention in her presence. It was too late to take back what she had said, but a good large part of Rarity wondered if what she had done had been the right thing to do. She doubted Applejack would have approved the misappropriation of another pony’s identity, and yet, nothing Rarity had revealed felt, at least to her, like a lie.

What had the Queen of Fey said about this predicament? Rarity tried to recall their conversation, but it was like trying to remember the details of a dream that had long since faded. Her hoof found itself wrapped around her pendant as she followed those well dressed ponies and tried to tune out Burgo’s gripes and the old mare’s responding chides.

”In that world, the world you’ll wake up to, you are Princess Shmarity, princess of Spiketopia.

“Just think of it as playing a role in a stage production.

“You might even be able to use that identity to your advantage.”

For now, if it was what she had to do to saving Spike and Discord, she’d play the role of Princess Shmarity. It was a task Rarity found surprisingly simple as, per the old mare’s request, she described to her audience the destruction of the princess’s home and her capture once they had all gathered within a private room and took their seats at a round table. Again, her mouth seemed to move all on it’s own as she told of how a city the size and style of Canterlot shook from a sudden quake that heralded the appearance of skeletal constructs and vile beasts on the palace grounds while hordes of barbaric marauders burned through the city. She told of the princess’s separation from the rest of her family, her futile attempts to evacuate the burning castle, the approach of the Squid Wizard striking down entire legions of guards and knights in shining armor with streaks of lightning, balls of flame, and noxious clouds, and the following imprisonment and isolation in that dark tower Rarity had initially found herself. Her audience had clung to every word and detail as Rarity pulled from the recollection of an experience she, Rarity, had not gone through and yet could describe so vividly.

When it came to explaining how she got away, however, Rarity kept her description more vague. They didn’t need to know of how the Squid Wizard gloated as they tossed Spike and Discord at her feet, not after she made that speech about hope in order to raise the town’s spirits, and so Rarity only mentioned that she saw a dragon with a beard and an odd snake thing with long, blond locks of hair before she was magically whisked away.

“Was there a warrior in black with a large sword with them?” the mare with the red ribbons had asked.

Rarity thought for a moment. “Well, there were quite a few guards wearing black armor there.“

“But were any of them fighting on the side of the heroes? Or rather, did you see a stallion in black armor among the heroes?”

“No. It was just those two.”

The faces of the ponies before her had turned to expressions of worry, but nopony offered to elaborate, and as she had little desire to draw any further scrutiny to her story, Rarity decided not to pursue the issue. Instead, she chose to divulge her current plan of finding help in the city of Baldursgait before heading south where the key to the Squid Wizard’s defeat was supposedly held. Again, Rarity kept a few things to herself, namely the source of her plan as she doubted anypony here would’ve reacted favorably if she told them that the idea to go south came from a mysterious being declaring themselves ruler over creatures only referenced in fairytale who had appeared to her in a dream.

The mention of Baldursgait had roused a number of different reactions, from approving nods to bemusedly raised eyebrows to sour looks and winces. The reputation of Baldursgait was well known, with Horshire having hosted a few adventurers from there in the past, and a couple ponies here had actually visited the port city. They had little advice on the matter, however, mostly just iterations on taking care when venturing the streets alone and being careful about who to trust, and there was almost no information at all regarding the southern lands that Rarity could glean from the ponies here. Nopony at the table had even heard of the term ‘necromancy’ or the name ‘Valmeyjar’ before, much less could explain why either would be so important.

Information hadn’t been the only thing Horshire was lacking in. Really, much to the embarrassment of the ponies that were before her, all the town could offer Rarity were a few days worth of travel rations, some discounted supplies, and a complimentary room at the inn. They couldn’t even spare her an armed escort to protect her the rest of the way; the best they could do was provide a couple of guards that would only be able to get her to the next populated settlement just a day away.

That had been fine with Rarity, who hadn’t expected much more than that anyways.
She left the room shortly after, leaving the town’s leadership to discuss the matters of running the town privately as her business with the town’s leaders had concluded, and spent the rest of the day trying to enjoy the ongoing festival which was, in all honesty, a very basic affair by Equestria’s standards.

Rarity took the next day to take inventory and restock, replacing the rations she and Burgo had gone through and retrieving her knife. She also took the opportunity to bathe and do a bit of laundry. Then it was time for her to go. Despite requesting no fanfare and getting up early to leave first thing in the morning, much of the town had gathered to see her off, and with a militia pony on either side of her and the cheers and waves of the townsfolk still echoing at her rear, Rarity had finally left Horshire.

It was nice to finally to be back on road, Rarity thought to herself, at least for the first couple of hours before her legs started to hurt and dust got into her eyes, tail, and mane. As keen as she was to continue her journey and complete her quest, Rarity couldn’t help but wonder if she had been too hasty. Perhaps she could have spared another extra day or two in Horshire, and the town was certainly more than eager to house her, but responsibility and more than a little bit of guilt won out in the end.

After all, it would have been fairly difficult to relax when the fate of her friends and the memory of dear Spike and Discord’s motionless forms still weighed so heavily on her back.

Her convoy consisted of two earth ponies, a young stallion only a few years older than her sister by the name of Even Trot whose gray coat matched the dreary skies above and an older mare with streaks of silver running through her dark green mane called Pez. Both had their protective barding hidden underneath a brown cloak similar to Rarity’s, and strapped to their backs were a set of saddlebags and a spear, and Pez carried an additional dagger at her side. Neither had been very talkative or volunteered much about themselves at first out of either awed shyness from the younger or surprising professionalism from the older, but after some small talk and a bit of prodding during an impromptu picnic, Rarity learned that Even Trot was the nephew of Innskeeper the innkeeper and that Pez had once an adventurer when she was younger and had long since retired to Horshire to help run her cousins run their store.

They had arrived at the walls of Candelkeep late that afternoon. To Rarity’s astonishment, the settlement was more of a fort than your typical town or village. She had seen crumbling, chest high stone walls and rotten remains of fences in the abandoned ruins on the way here but nothing like the circle of log stakes sticking out of the ground. There was even a large gate protecting the entrance along with several ponies in iron chain mail who stopped them as they approached.

Rarity, recognizing how much trouble her appearance could potentially cause, made sure her features were obscured by the hood of her cloak, but the guards seemed far more interested in the pair of openly armed ponies than they were in another refugee, especially after learning that the two were from Horshire. Based on what Rarity could gather from the sentries’s comments and surprise, the two towns had lost contact a while ago, and Horshire was thought to have been destroyed.

When asked for a reason for their visit, Pez did the talking as she explained they were simply bringing a traveler fleeing from the east here per their mayor’s instructions. A few additional questions soon followed, after which a messenger was sent inside. The runner returned some minutes later with a reply, and Rarity, Even Trot, and Pez were allowed into the fortress with the suggestion that the Horshire inhabitants should speak with the head of the monastery before returning home.

As they made a path through the settlement, looking for a place to stay the night, Pez made a passing observation that the place felt deserted, and while Rarity considered that assessment a bit of an exaggeration, seeing as they had nearly bumped into a few ponies on their way, she did note that there weren’t as many ponies here as one might have expected from such a large place. There was a noticeable amount of empty space to be found, and several of the structures they passed felt unused and uninhabited. Horshire felt more populated, more alive.

Thankfully, the inn was one of the buildings still operating, though much like the one in Horshire, it had been largely converted into a tavern. Once their rooms were secured, Pez went off to see what the leader of Candelkeep had to say while Even Trot stayed behind with Rarity who was in no hurry to meet the head of another clerical order after her brush with Mother Shim. Instead, the two spent the evening seeing if Rarity could find anything regard the family of clock merchants she had been traveling with. Pendula had mentioned that they were thinking of settling down in Candelkeep, and though Rarity wasn’t certain she wanted to see them again after they had just left her behind without so much as a goodbye and also having to explain to Clockworks that she had lost that cuckoo clock he had gifted her would’ve been pretty awkward, it would have been nice to know that they were safe.

As it turned out, they hadn’t stayed long. According to the owner of the inn, Clockworks had taken his family and left about a week ago after learning that Candelkeep had no place for a clock store. Pez returned a little while after with a letter for Burgo Masters, and after a meal of porridge and cheap watered down apple juice, the three decided to turn in early. According to Pez who had been to Candelkeep during her adventuring days, there was little to see or do here anyways unless you were really into books, which might have tempted Twilight Sparkle into taking a tour around the fort, but Rarity was tired and more concerned with getting to her final destination in a timely manner.

Morning came, and after some farewells and wishes of luck, they went their separate ways, with Rarity continuing down the road toward Baldursgait and Pez and Even Trot going back home. It didn’t take long before a sense of isolation hit Rarity as she traveled down the old abandoned trade route by herself. For the first time in a long time, she was journeying alone, and at that realization, her steps slowed. They had only said goodbye to each other less than an hour ago and were barely acquainted, and yet Rarity was already missing the presence of Pez and Even Trot. She was even beginning to feel nostalgic towards Clockworks and Minutiae’s constant requests for updates and would’ve gladly dealt with Huntress’s stoic aloofness if it meant having the dour mare’s company.

And of course, Rarity’s thoughts eventually turned to her friends from Ponyville and to however since they had gotten together as a group, she had rarely taken a trip without at least one of them with her and never a trip of this magnitude or importance.

“Keep it together, Rarity,” she said to herself, gently tapping against her cheeks. “Concentrate. Focus.” It wasn’t the healthiest way to cope with her loneliness, talking to herself, but it served as a proper distraction as she pushed herself onward.

As her journey continued, Rarity eventually caught the scent of sea water that slowly grew stronger. The whispers of the winds now carried the noisy cries of gulls. To the right of her, the grasslands sharply dropped off into a wrinkling mass of murky blue that extend beyond what her eyes could see, and at the end of the day, by the light of the setting sun, Rarity could just barely make out the mighty stone walls of what she presumed to be Baldursgait peeking over the horizon ahead of her.

By Rarity’s estimates, there was still at least an hour of travel between her and the city, which exceeded what sunlight was left in this day. She had dallied for too long. Not wanting to brave the road in the dangerous dark, she stopped for the night at a farming village she had come across. It was a small place, smaller than even Elder Woods’s village and consisting of only a few cottages and farmhouses. Rarity had spotted a number of such settlements dotting the countryside along the way since leaving Candelkeep, their number growing as she got closer to Baldursgait, but as she had no real reason to visit them until now, they went largely ignored.

Rarity was initially met with suspicion, but the promise of coin swayed one of the farmers into letting her sleep in his barn. It wasn’t the most comfortable or the most dignified or the cleanest place Rarity could think of, but as the village was too small to house an inn or anything of the kind, it was the best she could get outside of convincing the farmer to give up his own bed, and with the stalllion’s wife watching her closely, Rarity didn’t dare try her more persuasive tactics to tease out a better deal.

Neither the smell of hay nor the gossip of the cows in the neighboring stall bothered her too much, not when her journey’s end was so close. It was almost over, Rarity told herself, resting her head against a bundle of straw and trying to get some sleep. Soon, as early as tomorrow morning, she would be in Baldursgait.

The path leading to the city’s gate was difficult to miss. If one failed to notice the sudden transition in the quality of the road’s stonework, then they could simply follow the rows of burnt out torches flanking the way to the massive stone ramparts. If one failed to see the tall ashy poles or, somehow, the imposing walls with red and blue banners streaming down from the battlements, then surely the lengthy line of individuals leading up to the city and the constant screams for order from the guards at the entrance would have tipped them off.

The line to Baldursgait was long, and it moved at the pace of an injured snail, but with a few honeyed words and some batting of her eyelashes, Rarity made some quick and early headway, skipping the initial few positions at the queue’s start. Many whom she passed were farm ponies in ragged sackcloths, and some pulled along carts of fresh produce or sacks of grain, but Rarity also saw several in protective gear of varying quality and material, ranging from thick standard barding to links of metal chains to even pieces of steel plate. Their armaments were just as diverse, with some carrying simple spears over their shoulders while others had clubs or bows strung across their backs. Blades of just about every size could be found, from daggers like the one Huntress had given Rarity to swords so long that their tips dragged against the ground, and the unusually large, scruffy pony ahead of Rarity even had an equally large dual headed axe nestled between the bags on their back.

Her nose wrinkled at the stench coming from those bags. Whatever was in them was starting to soak through and attract flies, and the smell only got worse as time passed and the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. By the time the entrance came into her view, it was approaching noon, with the sun reaching its highest point, and Rarity was gagging.

“Next!” shouted the guard, and the large pony in front of her stepped forward. “Alrighty big guy, why are you here?”

“Yak.”

“Didn’t ask for your race, but yes, I can see that,” the guard grumbled as his colleague snickered.

“Yak.” The creature turned to rummaging through their luggage, giving Rarity a glimpse of their face and horns. She could now clearly see that they were indeed a yak, which would explain the excessive size and hair. “Yak,” they said again as they pulled out a slip of parchment and gave it to the guards.

“Part of the adventurers’ league, eh? Back from a quest then, I take?”

The yak nodded and pointed to the oozing sacks they were carrying. “Yak.”

“Right,” Rarity heard one of the guards snort. “Well then, yak, go ahead. Keep out of trouble.”

“Yak,” the yak said with another nod before they continued into the walled city. Once the yak had left their view, the three guards at the entrance turned to Rarity who now stood at the very front of the line. There were four additional sentries that could be spotted standing under the archway that led into the city, two standing on each side, and at the very end Rarity could see the glint of a couple of spearheads.

At minimum, a total of nine guards were at the entrance, and that wasn’t counting all the ones positioned on the walls. Rarity had to wonder, was this level of security normal for Baldursgait or was it in preparation for things to come?

“Alright, next in line. Come on, we haven’t all day.”

Rarity approached the guards. Their armor reminded her of the attire of the Canterlot guards, with brass plates protecting their front and midsection and shoulders and a helmet with a plume over their head. Additional metal plates were strapped over their shins and haunches but left the knee uncovered and unhindered. All three of the guards carried pole arms, with the sole pegasus of the trio tucking hers beneath a wing, and had a dagger attached to their side. One of them also had a longer blade sheathed beside his dagger. The three would have been an impressive sight had they bothered to clean the metal of their armor and didn’t look so bored out of their minds.

“So what do we have here?” the guard with the sword barked as he and his partnered looked over Rarity from the top of her hooded head to the bottom of her hooves. “Purpose?”

“Just, visiting.”

Rarity’s answer caused the guard’s brow to raise. “Visiting, eh? Got relatives here? Friends?”

“I’m here to see the adventurers’ league,” she said, not seeing any harm in divulging that information.

“That right?” the guard said while the one of his colleagues, his fellow stallion and earth pony, let out a snort. “Looking to join or something?”

“Or something, yes.”

“Eh, alright then. I’m guessing you haven’t any papers, so see what’s in those.” The guard gestured to the saddlebags on Rarity’s back with his spear. “Come on, don’t waste our time,” he added when Rarity hesitated. “You want in? Then don’t give us trouble.”

Rarity wanted to argue and rebuke these ruffians over their lack in manners, but she was also very much aware of her current, precarious position. These ponies had complete control over whether she got into the city or not, and so Rarity swallowed her pride and complied, removing her bags and surrendering them to the guards. As the two earth ponies searched through the bags, the pegasus approached her, and without any warning, she ran her hooves along Rarity’s body.

“Stop squirming,” the armored mare ordered as she reached into Rarity’s cloak and removed the two daggers hidden within and the silver pendant around Rarity’s neck. Elder Woods’s obsidian blade drew a funny look, but the guard returned everything to Rarity swiftly and without incident once she had finished her examination.

“Well what do we have here?” the guard with the sword exclaimed, holding up Rarity’s coin purse. “Oh ho, a bit on the heavy side.”

Rarity could hear the ponies behind her stir and sigh as they all watched the guard shake open the purse. A number of gold, copper, and silver coins tumbled out into his outstretched hoof, and his grin grew.

“That ought to cover the entry fee,” he declared with a chuckle as he put the lightened purse back into the saddlebags. His sneering partner tossed them back to Rarity, and they landed roughly in the dirt before her. “Alright, you’re good to go. And welcome to Baldursgait.”

Having done a quick inventory review, it didn’t appear that they had taken anything else, but Rarity refused to feel grateful over that small fortune. She shot the obnoxious stallion a dirty look as she passed him by, but it was the only thing she dared do with so many of his allies watching. As tempted as she was to embarrass the lout in front of all his colleagues, Rarity didn’t want her first experience with Baldursgait to be within the city’s dungeon or to be kicked out before even stepping a foot within the city’s walls. Part of her wanted to tear off her hood and expose her supposed identity just to see how they would all react, but Huntress’s warnings against such recklessness and of the possible dangers Baldursgait posed to Princess Shmarity kept her in check.

The guards under the archway watched Rarity as she walked by them. “Another refugee,” one muttered with a sigh as she passed them. “Poor fools still flooding in.”

“Darn streets are already packed as is,” another mumbled. Rarity ignored them as she continued and entered Baldursgait on the archway’s other end.

Her first expression of the city was that it was crowded. Buildings were packed together with very little space between them. The streets were jammed with bodies and wagons that slowed traffic to a crawl, and the various street merchants and beggars in the way weren’t helping matters. The sounds of arguments and loud grumblings polluted the air along with dark smoke and the foul mix of sewage malodor and salty sea breeze. Venders shouted at potential customers from their stalls, peddling their wares while ponies wearing rags knelt in the dirt with their hooves outstretched as they cried out mournfully for any spare coin, all adding to the noisy din.

Something took hold of Rarity’s cloak. She pulled back and spun around to discover that she had been stopped by an elderly beggar. The old mare’s gray mane was stiff and dry like straw, and one of her eyes appeared glassy and sightless. The crooked smile she wore as she held a hoof up to Rarity was toothless.

Pity quickly replaced her initial surprise and horror. Rarity started to reach for her purse, figuring that even after that guard’s portion, she could afford to part with a couple coins, but something knocked hard against her rear, causing her stumble forward and gasp out.

“Out of the way!” growled the pony dragging the cart that had bumped into her. “Move!”

“Excuse me?” Rarity exclaimed, her eyes narrowing as she turned. Her grip over her temper began to loosen. “You’re the one who bumped into me, and instead of apologizing like a civilized pony, you get cross with me?”

“Hey, lady!” came a shout from behind them. “Quit blocking the way! Hurry up already!”

Other joined in, demanding Rarity and the one with the cart to move with increasingly rude jeers and taunts. The old beggar was already gone at that point, so with a huff and her face burning, Rarity continued on her way, following the crowd further into the city until she became just another small part of it. Eventually, the narrow street they slowly traveled down opened into a plaza, and the crowd broke apart as those that formed it went in their own separate directions.

Rarity stopped in front of a dried out, chipped fountain covered in carved initials and graffiti that stood in the center of the plaza. As she watched the others go and make their way down one of the many branching paths, she came to realize just how woefully unprepared she was. Here she was in a city completely new to her, like a little country filly in Canterlot or Manehattan for her very first time, and she hadn’t even considered acquiring a map of the darn place beforehand. Sweet sun and moon, Candelkeep might have even had a book on Baldursgait that she could have used to avoid the unpleasantness at the entrance had she bothered to do the research.

Rarity flattened her face against the bases of her hooves and released a long, muffled, frustrated groan that slowly tapered off into a sigh. Well, what was done was done, and both her time and energy would be better spent figuring out what to do now than kicking herself over this silly lack of foresight. Rarity took a breath and calmed down, and as she brushed her mane out of her face, she returned to the cool and collected mare of grace she knew she was, the kind of mare who’d be able to come up with a well thought-out plan.

Rarity’s first step? Reviewing her purpose for being here in Baldursgait, that being to find help at this adventurers’ league thing, which she understood to be some sort of mercenary organization. Rarity squirmed at the idea of having to hiring a bunch of brutes willing to hurt and harm for money, and that was if she even had enough coin to afford them, but the adventurers’ league might also be her best bet at finding somepony sympathetic to her, or rather to Princess Shmarity’s plight. If there were any survivors from the old royal army, it made sense that some of them would have joined something like the adventurers’ league as a way to make a living off of their old skills after their crushing defeat at the tentacles of the Squid Wizard and his forces. Perhaps Rarity could find a few that still felt some loyalty toward Spiketopia’s princess.

After that, well, she’d have a much easier time figuring out what to do next once she had some extra heads around her with which to brainstorm. Hopefully, her future companions, with all of their potential experience, would be more knowledgeable of the southern lands than she and have a way to get there, and even if they personally didn’t have that kind of information, they’d probably know somepony who knew somepony who did. Baldursgait was a big city, and Rarity was well versed in just how deep connections could run in such a place.

Of course, Rarity would need to find this adventurers’ league first. A map really would have come in handy, but where could she get one now? Rarity‘s first thought was a tourist booth, but she hadn’t seen anything like that at the entrance and doubted that a place as rough as Baldursgait would even have such a thing. She supposed she could trying asking for directions, but based on how she had been treated at the gate, Rarity didn’t think she’d get much help from any of the patrolling guards, at least not without paying a hefty fee. Asking one of the locals instead might be a cheaper option, but there was no guarantee that they’d know how to get to the adventurers’ league.

Rarity looked around. The plaza, she noted, served as an intersection for a number of streets, with the fountain standing in the very middle. Signs could be found near the opening of each street, either hanging from a nearby building or attached to a pole. Perhaps once upon a time those signs served as indicators for what streets was what and which street led to where, but they had long since been rendered illegible, the wood having rotted away and nopony bothering to rewrite the faded letters.

Most of the ponies she saw walking around were busy going down one way or another, save for a few beggars lying in the road. After a bit of pony watching, as she was considering whether and whom to stop and question, Rarity noticed a pattern. Of the multiple paths that led further into the city, two appeared to have the most traffic going down them. Of the two, one seemed to be used universally, with farmers in poorly stitched work clothes pulling carts along side armed warriors in armor and cloaked individuals with bows and quivers on their backs making their way past mares in dresses and stallions in suit vests, while the other path appeared more predominantly used by those openly carrying their weapons around.

Rarity approached a stallion around her age who had just entered the plaza from the second way. Like most going to and from this path, he had a weapon, a short sword strapped to his side that hung just below his saddlebags.

“Excuse me, sir?” she said, getting the stallion’s attention. “Is this the direction to the adventurers’ league?”

“Huh?” The stallion blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting to be addressed. “Oh, uh, yeah.” He gave Rarity a quick glance and frowned. “You, uh, new around here?”

“Just arrived, actually,” Rarity answered with a smile and a giggle. “It’s my first time in Baldursgait, and it’s a rather large place.”

“Oh.” The stallion rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. You don’t want to get lost around here. Had a couple of close calls myself during my first week.” He gave a small chuckle. “But yeah, if you just follow this street you’ll find the adventurers’ league headquarters. It’s this small building on the edge of this square with a bunch of billboards in front of it. It can be hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for, but, I mean, now you know.”

“Yes, and thank you,” Rarity said, and with another smile, she started toward the street she had been directed to as the helpful stallion continued on his own way. For a time, Rarity kept her focus on the road ahead of her, doing her best to avoid bumping into one of the many tough looking pedestrians and their violent accessories or straying onto a branching path that led to who knew where or tripping over a loose brick or a hole in the pavement. As she made her way through Baldursgait, however, Rarity could feel her curious eyes wander to the surrounding buildings and the city’s inhabitants, absorbing in the sights.

Many of the structures looking over the path were windowless, and those that had windows had them blocked by bars and cloth coverings, hiding the inside contents from outside observers. Much of the walls were vandalized with rude etchings and shapes, similar to how the fountain had been, and there was a layer of grime over the stone surfaces that gave some sections a dark green color. The roofs of these buildings were flat, and Rarity saw that there were a few ponies on them looking down at the passing crowd, mostly young children but also a few in white robes with their faces hidden under their hoods.

Those she shared the street with were far more varied and far more interesting, with manes, tails, and coats of all colors and shades populating the road. Earth ponies were the most common, but a number of horns and feathered wings could be spotted in the crowd as well. There were ponies here of all shapes and sizes, from the large, the bulky, and those with a muscular definition vast enough for it’s own dictionary and maybe even drive a certain white pegasus stallion from Ponyville envious to the scrawny, the wiry, and those that Rarity mistook as foals until she noticed their lengthy facial hair and the lines on their faces. Speaking of age, Rarity saw ponies that looked old enough to be her grandmother or grandfather strutting as if they were half that age past young mares and stallions Rarity’s age and even younger, and then there was everything in between the two extremes.

As Rarity had observed earlier, just about everypony here was armed: daggers, short swords, long swords, blades so broad and big Rarity couldn’t imagine how anypony could swing them without magical means, thin rapiers, lances, spears, pole axes, single headed and double headed battle axes, bows of various lengths, mechanized crossbows, bandoleers of throwing darts, clubs, flails, and a whole host of other martial tools that Rarity didn’t recognize and could only describe as being sharp and pointy. Some were sheathed or covered in some fashion while others hung out in the open, their metal bits gleaming in the sunlight. The quality of the weapons varied pony to pony, from spears and the like with their wood warping and splintering and swords with visible rust and chips in their edges to pole arms with polished shafts and blades that looked, as far as Rarity could tell with her limited expertise, just recently forged. Some were covered in dust while others had clearly been cleaned recently and well maintained. One particular unicorn had his sword in a jewel encrusted scabbard that was so shiny it hurt to look, and while excessive and a waste of some perfectly good gems, it did go well with the stallion’s bright red cape, polished and spotless breastplate complete with an engraved coat of arms, waxed and curled mustache, and the air of pompousness he carried himself with as he walked with his nose pointed up to the clouds above.

Many kept their Cutie Marks hidden, their flanks covered by armor or by the hem of theirs cloaks, but there were some, usually the ones with the fancier looking equipment, that seemed to flaunt the symbol on their flanks. The meaning for some of the marks were obvious, like the mare with spear on her back having the mark of a spear, but there were also several that were too vague to interpret just by sight alone, like the marks of falcon wings and wolf heads and a crown of stars. Some Cutie Marks didn’t exactly seem to fit with the pony they were destined to, like for instance that rolling pin which one would’ve expected on the flanks of a baker and not on the scarred up mercenary Rarity saw it on. Then again, a Cutie Mark only describes one’s talents and not necessarily their profession, though Rarity had to wonder about the circumstances that drove this particular pony with all his culinary potential into a life of scars and wounds.

And then there were all those that never would receive Cutie Marks. As she got further into Baldursgait, Rarity began to notice an increase in the diversity of the species around her. Griffons shared the skies with pegasi and the occasional hippogriff while yaks like the one Rarity had seen early walked along side floppy eared donkeys and hearty horned oxen. Rarity even spotted a couple of stags with decorated antlers and a young dragon with reddish scales and a mask shaped like an equine skull in the crowd, and as she followed the street into a large square, hopefully the square that young stallion had mentioned in his directions, Rarity was greeted with the scene of a trio of young bipedal felines being chased by an elder minotaur while a small group of nearby parrot folk watched and laughed.

“Dang runts! I’ll turn you into coats!”

“Cheap supplies here. Don’t get ripped off at the market. Save some coin and some time.”

“You’ve got any healer’s kits? Any unused?”

“Weapons, get your weapons! Perfect for any occasion. Dungeons. Exterminations. Weddings.”

“Look, you know I’m good for it. Give me a couple days.”

“Fried fish for sale!”

“What are you trying to do, rob me? Knock it down a couple of coppers.”

“Heard about Grim. Darn shame.”

“Who’s hungry? Got fresh corn cakes, hot off the griddle.”

Exclamations of stall keepers as they tried to entice potential customers and bits and pieces of conversations between creatures filled the air that carried the scent of unwashed bodies, baked and fried foods, and the sea. Out in the distance stood a harbor and the endless stretch of blue. Seagulls circled above, screaming as they dived and stole scraps off the ground. With so many sights and sounds and smells, Rarity was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. She tried to refocus herself, shaking her head as she forced her wandering eyes straight ahead in search of a building with billboards in front of it.

The crowded environment did not help matters. Even if Rarity didn’t have to deal with how distracting all of the sights and sounds were, the crush of bodies, many of which were larger than her, blocked much of her vision, and it was incredibly difficult to stay perceptive when she was constantly being jostled around without so much of a pardon. Rarity wasn’t sure which was worse, being shoved down to the dirty ground by a bull rushing by or walking right into a group of kittens and knocking one poor dear off his two little back paws and scattering the rest. Neither instance presented an opportunity for an adequate apology, the bullish bovine hurrying off without even glancing at her and the little cat scurrying after his friends on all fours as Rarity extended a hoof to help him up, and she left both scenes with her face flushed.

To make things worse, Rarity’s stomach was beginning to grumble, and her growing hunger added to her list of distractions. It was early afternoon at this point, and all Rarity had eaten today were some mouthfuls of dried fruit and nuts from her own supplies, the farmers she had gotten boarding from not having included breakfast in their services. The aroma wafting from the food stands caused her mouth to water and her stomach to growl louder to the point that Rarity worried that others could hear it over all the noise.

She stopped in front of the cleanest stall she could see, which consisted of pancakes being flipped on a greasy tabletop griddle before a couple of waiting customers. The mare running the stand gave Rarity a toothy grin as she approached.

“And what’ll it be for you?” she said, brushing her hooves on the stained apron she wore. “It’s real flour, you know. Three coppers for a plain one, five if you want one with cheese, and there’s a discount if you get more than five.”

Rarity looked down at the pancakes currently sizzling away for those ahead of her. Those delectable brown surfaces were ruined by black smudges of residue grease, and they were disappointingly small. One would need far more than five of those flat little cakes to come close to having a decent meal, and Rarity, despite not being complete sure of the worth behind this world’s currency or its economic standards, had a strong intuition that the prices presented were severely inflated.

Her stomach, however, did not care and protested loudly at her hesitation. The rebellious organ wouldn’t even compromise over the promise of Rarity’s leftover travel rations, not while in the presence of something hot and fresh. She sighed and tried to ignore the chuckles coming from the other customers. “Seven plain ones, please.”

“Right away. Seven plain will cost you, uh.” The mare took a moment to do some calculations, her features twisting in concentration. “Twenty? Yeah, twenty coppers for seven.”

Twenty copper coins for pancakes. The equivalent of two silvers, according to Princess Shmarity’s knowledge. Rarity frowned. “Surely that’s can’t be with the discount included. Or is a single copper coin truly the best you can do?”

The mare snorted and shrugged. “Listen lady, if you don’t like my prices, you can find some place else. Now figure it out ‘cause I can’t have you holding up my business.”

She gestured Rarity to the pegasus stallion and the griffon waiting behind her. Seeing that the stand owner was in no mood to discuss the price further, and neither was she for that matter, Rarity let out another sigh. She reached over to her saddlebags, undid the strap, and reached inside.

Rarity brushed past her supplies, pushing aside the tinderbox, her knife, and the sewing kit amongst other miscellaneous items before reaching the bottom of her bag. Confused, Rarity pulled her hoof back and tried again, and then she tried the other side. In there she felt and found the first aid kit, the lodestone, Elder Woods’s map, and the bag’s bottom once more.

But there was no coin purse.

20. Bound by Duty

Bound by Duty

Rarity followed the young cats out of the alley, with the older of the two leading the way through the deserted streets and towards the packed plaza. As they approached the collection of stalls and the many crowds surrounding them, Rarity made sure that this time her guard was up. She eyed any creature that drew near or got a little too close all while regularly patting down her saddlebags to make sure they were closed and secured and feeling for the Queen of Fey’s symbol beneath her cloak. At the same time, she had to keep a close eye on her less than trustworthy guide, there being the possible matter of him running off in a bid to escape her.

A possible matter, yes, but Rarity didn’t really think he would try something like that, not if it meant abandoning his sister. The affection the two siblings had displayed toward each other, the concern the sister showed for the brother’s wellbeing and the joy she displayed at his recovery, the worry in the elder sibling’s voice and the fear in his eyes over being separated, it all seemed genuine, the older brother’s use of the younger as a prop for emotional manipulation notwithstanding. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and even if that hadn’t been a concern, keeping track of the cat and his smaller frame within the crowd’s overwhelming crush of bodies was no easy task, and there were multiple close calls when Rarity thought she had lost sight of that fuzzy, orange tail.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that whole encounter back in the alley. As angry as she had acted over discovering that the old brother was a thief, a thief who had stolen from her at that, and his unscrupulous attempt to retrieve his ill gotten prize, Rarity was glad to have saved him, and as a bonus, the little pickpocket knew of a potential ally. She was still broke, and that money of hers was probably permanently lost, but at least now she was back on track of her mission, with each step she took a step closer to saving Spike and Discord.

There was still the mystery of the strange assailant, however. When asked, his initial victims had no answers regarding who or what he was, and the questions only increased when the cats told Rarity that he had made all his demands in some unfamiliar language. A language they couldn’t understand but she could and did.

Not that his words made any sense to her. What was this court of rebellion he mentioned and who was this exiled, ahem, individual? His actions appeared to revolve around the Queen of Fey’s symbol, so maybe he was related to them or their kind in some way. The Queen had warned her about showing the symbol around, and perhaps this was why, though Rarity hadn’t a inkling on how to contact the mystical being to confirm these theories.

Those mysteries had to wait for the time being, and Rarity shoved such distractions aside as she focused on following the cats in front of her. They eventually arrived at the collection of billboards Rarity had originally been directed to, each one being about the size of a typical schoolhouse blackboard. On each of them there were some dozens of posters, possibly what was attracting the dozens or so of rough and tough looking individuals with all of their armaments. Their great number and mass made it nigh impossible for her to read what was nailed to the wood, unless she wanted to try to force her way through to the front.

“Anything good?” she heard someone ask. There was a barking laugh in response.

“Either small errands or suicide missions, so waste your time or waste your life.”

Rarity followed the cats around the swarmed boards. There behind the crowd, just like that young stallion she met earlier had said, was a small building, maybe a little smaller than her own shop in Ponyville. It certainly lacked the frills of the Carousel Boutique, the building devoid of any decorations save if you perhaps counted the boards at the front and the warriors loitering at the entrance. If it hadn’t already been pointed out to her and that she was being led right to its door, Rarity probably would have walked right past the unassuming structure.

The group standing and chatting around the entrance, which consisted of a pegasus mare with a massive crossbow almost as large as its owner and an earth pony wearing a scarf over his mouth and snout and a pair of daggers on his belt, stopped to raise brows at Rarity and the two cats as they approached. Rarity’s hood was up and covering much of her face, so she didn’t think it was the identity of Princess Shmarity drawing their attention. She did note that their stares were more on her chaperones than her, and the way they covered their pockets as they walked by seemed to suggest that either the cats themselves or their kind in general had a bit of a reputation.

They entered, and Rarity’s first impression as she stepped into the building was that she was reminded of the interior of a post office. Lines extended from a counter in the very back where a team of mares and stallions in blouse and vest assemblies on the other side recorded the information provided by those before them. To the left there was a second, smaller counter being operated by a single, bored looking mare as well as a good portion of the wall covered in posters and pamphlets while much of the right side was taken up by rows of long picnic tables with connected seats. There all sorts of creatures sat and conversed amongst themselves, from ponies of all three tribes to griffons and hippogriffs, zebras and deers to yaks and large two legged avians, even a few older specimens of cat folk and a minotaur who had somehow managed to squeeze into a seat, causing the wood to creak and groan.

To no real surprise from Rarity, almost every single one creature there had some weapon visibly on their person. Many were also holding tankards, and some had small meals, mostly just a bit of cheese and some bread, on the table in front of them. A third booth was built into an alcove in the wall, similar to the one was on the left, where an uniformed stallion gave out large full mugs and refilled old emptied ones in exchange for coin.

“See the old guy over there?” the cat who had brought her here said, pointing. “The one with a gray head hunched over way in the back?”

“Sitting next to that giant sword?”

The cat nodded. “Yep. That’s him,” he confirmed before clearing his throat. “So, uh, I’ve brought you to your guy, like we agreed. A deal’s a deal, and the deal’s done, right? So I’m good to go, right?”

Rarity turned to the fidgeting feline and frowned. “You’re not going to introduce us?”

The cat rubbed the back of his head. “I, don’t actually know the guy. Like, at all. I just hear things, so I’m not going to be much help with getting him to do, whatever it is you want him for, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. Also,” he said with a sheepish grin as he turned his head to both sides, “I’m, uh, not exactly really supposed to be here.”

Rarity followed his nervous gaze and saw that several of those within their proximity were watching them closely. A few even scowled and glowered as they made a show of holding tightly onto their belongings.

“It’s a long story, just a misunderstanding really,” the cat assured with a dismissive wave of his paw when Rarity turned back to him. “But yeah, me and my sis, we should really get going.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” Sighing, Rarity quickly checked her cloak. Her hooves found her dagger and pendant. “Very well,” she said. “As promised, you are free to go. Oh.”

The cat had just started to turn to leave. At the last syllable, he stiffened and slowly turned back around. “Yeah?” he asked, swallowing.

“Thank you. For bringing me here.” Rarity’s warm smile transitioned into a small smirk as she added in some cheekiness. “And do try to keep out of trouble.”

“Oh.” For a good moment, the cat stood there blinking and staring until his sister finally shook him out his surprised state with a tug at his tail. “Right, sure. Uh, no problem,” he said. “Um, and good luck, I guess, with whatever you’re here for. I’ll just, um.” He pointed a paw at the exit and started towards it.

“Bye, miss!” cheered the kitten, and as Rarity returned her wave, she hurried off after her brother. Rarity watched the two go until the door shut behind them and they left both the building and her line of sight.

“Alright then.” She turned to face the alleged knight sitting in the back of the hall and begun her approach. Like the cat said, he didn’t look the part, what with his wrinkled, faded clothes, his slumped over posture, and his complete lack of a mane which Rarity noticed once she got closer. It was certainly a far cry from the shining and chivalrous image presented in fairy tales and romance novels, though if the great hunk of metal sitting beside him was more than just for show, his apparent strength made up for, well, maybe not exactly all of his less than impressive presence but at least some of it. Maybe he’d look more imposing in armor, most stallions did.

Rarity got no reaction when she finally reached his seat. Was he sleeping? It was hard to tell with his back toward her and his head hidden beneath his fore limbs. She cleared her throat loudly. He didn’t stir. Rarity leaned forward and tried again with additional force.

That earned a groan. “What?” her quarry grumbled as he pulled his head out from under is front legs and lifted it to glare at her. A cracked beak was where Rarity expected to find a snout, and as he scowled, the feathers of his face ruffled. A griffon, Rarity realized, and one whose face she somehow recognized beneath all those horrific new scars and burn marks.

“Sir Gustford?”

The griffon paused before he forced a humorless chuckle and the line of his beak slowly curved into a smirk. “Been a bit since anyone referred to me by that prefix. Or by my full name, for that matter.” He stretched across the table to grab at a mug that was just out of reach. “Dang it, who moved my drink?” he mumbled as the tips of his talons scratched at the tankard’s handle. “So, you know who I am, eh? Sounds like you’re in the know. Well what can this old bird do for you?”

“I’m—“

“Got it!” the griffon exclaimed triumphantly, thrusting the mug into the air. Some nearby lifted their drinks up as well and added their own cheers, but most only bothered to give him a look of annoyance before returning to their conversations and meals. “So let me guess,” he continued, “you have a job for me. Probably something real special if you went out of your way to search me out personally instead of just running it by the league.” The older griffon she knew as Sir Gustford snorted and turned away. “Today’s my day off. Come back tomorrow, and I might consider it if it’s worth my time.”

“Excuse me?” Rarity frowned as she walked over to the griffon’s side. “I’ll have you know I’ve been through quite the ordeal to find you. The least you could do is find a little time to listen to what I have to say.”

“Everyone’s gone through something these days,” Gustford said with a shrug. “Believe me, you’re nothing special.” He raised the cup only for Rarity to reach out and force the it back down. His glare was met with one of Rarity’s own. Irate, hawkish golden eyes locked with determined blues. Some several seconds passed before the griffon sighed and broke eye contact as he leaned back.

“You’re not going to stop pestering me until I hear you out, are you?” he said, frowning. “Fine. Let’s this off right.” He gestured to the counter in the wall closest to them, the one selling beverages. “Buy me a drink, then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t have any money.”

A moment or two passed before the griffon vocalized the incredulous look he was giving Rarity with an exasperated, “Seriously?” He shook his head. “You came to the adventurers’ league with the intent to hire a specific adventurer but don’t have anything to pay them with?”

“I—“

“No, just, shh.” He brought a claw to his forehead and dug into it as he released a long exhale. “Alright. You see this?”

He motioned Rarity to look into his mug. With some apprehension, she did so and saw that it was only about a fifth of it was full of some amber liquid, cider if the smell of sour apples was any indication and of rather poor quality. At most, it was a mouthful.

“You have until I finish this to grab my attention. Then I’m out of here. Sound fair?”

“That’s—“

“Good,” the griffon said, cutting off Rarity’s protest with a smirk. “Ready? Go!”

He lifted the mug to his smug smirking beak. Rarity lifted her hood from her head. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction at the griffon’s sudden stop and the look of shock on his face. His eyes slowly dilated, the black pupil shrinking until it was hardly any larger than the head of a pin, and the bottom half of his beak dropped. He lowered the mug and stared into it for a second or so before looking back up at Rarity, then it was back to the contents of the tankard.

“Oh boy,” the griffon breathed before slamming the mug down on the table and stumbling out of his seat and up onto his feet. “Alright, which of you jokers spiked my drink?” he growled, pointing at the creatures sitting near or walking by. “Was it you? You? Well you got me. Real funny prank, really clever. Come on, come clean so I can show my appreciation!”

With a wild roar, he grabbed the handle of the broad sword next to him. He got the blade a few inches off the floor before he started to lose his balance. Those he had just tried to threaten merely laughed and shook their heads, bemused and in a couple of cases in pity, as they watched him fall backwards. Rarity walked over to the collapsed griffon and helped him up.

“This, it can’t be,” he was mumbling as Rarity brought him back to his seat. “I’ve been poisoned or I’m drunk or, or—“

The griffon started to sway again. Rarity caught him by his shoulder, and as she held him up, she forced him to look up at her. “Sir Gustford the Gilded Claw of the Stormslayers,” she said sternly, “listen to me. I am really here, and I need your help.”

He stared at her in complete silence for almost an entire minute. His features bounced between expressions of confusion and awe, suspicion and relief, guilt and hope, with each face only lasting for a split moment before moving to the next emotion. “P-Princess Shmarity?” he whispered.

Rarity nodded in answer. The griffon didn’t seem to notice her slight hesitation as he breathed out and rubbed at his temple. “I need a drink,” he announced, getting up and taking a wobbly step toward the refreshments kiosk.

Rarity raised an eyebrow at the griffon’s unsteady movement. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“A drink of water,” he clarified, his eyes rolling before he could stop them. “You, uh.” He coughed and averted his gaze. “You want anything, Your, uh, you? Miss?”

“Water would be nice, thank you,” Rarity said. “And perhaps a bite to eat, if you could please,” she added over her stomach’s not so subtle reminder.

“Right. It’s, um, not going to be anything all that fancy,” said the griffon with an awkward wave. “Just, thought I’d let you before you, I mean, I should go. Get the water. Excuse me.” And with one final nod to Rarity, he shuffled off.

While the griffon stood in line for their water and such, Rarity glanced around to gauge the rest of the room’s reaction. As far as she could tell, there didn’t appear to be any creatures paying her much mind, so it didn’t seem like anyone else had recognized her as Princess Shmarity. Rarity threw the hood back on just to be sure as she recalled Huntress’s warnings regarding Baldursgait’s treacherous population, of which her own early experiences with the city’s inhabitants seemed to support.

Gustford returned to the table a few minutes later with a jug, a couple of cups, and a plate with half a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. “Here,” he said, placing the plate before Rarity. “Like I said, it’s not exactly palace fare.”

“That’s quite alright,” Rarity assured, breaking the hard bread into smaller pieces. “I’ve grown a tolerance for this sort of quality.”

“Hm.” Rarity noticed that the griffon’s claw shook for half a second at her statement as he filled both cups with water. He pushed both cups toward Rarity, then proceeded to drain the rest of the jug straight from the container. Water leaked down, soaking into his feathers and his clothes. When he was finished, he all but slammed the ceramic jug down and wiped his mouth with the back of a claw.

“That’s better,” he breathed with a sigh. “I can think straight again.” He turned to Rarity. “And you’re still here. So that wasn’t a dream. Or wait.” Gustford winced from the pinch he gave himself. “No, guess not.” He gestured to the cloth that was back over her head. “May I?”

Rarity nodded and allowed him to remove the hood. “Heavens above, it’s really you,” the griffon whispered. “I mean, I thought, maybe a changeling, but why? And, you knew my actual name, my title.” He hesitated. “Can, can you say it again, my full title? The one your father gave me?”

“Sir Gustford the Gilded Claw of the Stormslayers.”

“Of the Stormslayers,” he repeated with a glance at his blade. Sighing, he let the cowl of Rarity’s robe fall back down along with his claws and his shoulders. The griffon appeared to melt into his seat before Rarity as he placed his head into his open claws and dug his talons into it. The slouching figure in front of her was nothing like the powerful and distinguished knight who carried himself with pride and honor in Princess Shmarity’s memories.

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to me?” Gustford lifted his head and chuckled hoarsely. “With all due respects, Your Highness, what happened to you? What happened to all of us? We lost, that’s what.” He let his head fall back into his dirty yellow claws. “How did you get away? Did your father?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to him.” Suddenly, Rarity found herself in a burning hallway, with flames licking away at the tapestries and curtains. An older stallion wearing a gold crown stood some distance away with a sword aloft with a company of guards. His face was shrouded in smoke as he turned to Rarity and ordered her away. When she refused, she was grabbed and pulled away, screaming as she watched the black smoke consume the hall. Then, she was back in the adventurers’ league building, sitting beside the gruff griffon with a plate of day old bread and smelly cheese before her. “We were separated during the Squid Wizard’s attack.”

“I see,” Gustford said slowly. His claws folded over each other, with each individual talon crossing another, and he propped his chin on top. “So what happened after that?”

Again, just as with the ponies in charge of Horshire, Rarity told of how she had been captured and imprisoned in the Squid Wizard’s fortress and how she had been spirited away magically while in the presence of the heroes she assumed had been there to try and save her.

“Right, right. Those, ah, heroes. There was that wizard fellow, Garbunkle was it?” Gustford said, tapping the tip of his beak. “And the, uh, the guy they just gave away knighthood to. Bigguns or Macons or something.”

“McBiggun,” Rarity corrected, surprising herself.

“Right, him. I noticed you didn’t mention anypony in black armor with Garbunkle. Figures. I never had a good feeling about that one, and considering his past, can you blame me?”The griffon scoffed. “I heard rumblings that they also picked up some foreigner, a Captain Wuzz, probably that snake-like fellow. Can’t say much about him.” He snorted. “I was never in favor of the king using adventurers, not when he had us knights to do his bidding. Of course, here I am now, hanging around in an adventurers’ league making an adventurer’s wages to live an adventurer’s life. What a world we live in.” He sighed. “So what happened to them, those heroes?”

“They, ah, I don’t quite know. It all happened so suddenly.”

“Is that right?” inquired Gustford as he stared at her with a cocked brow. Rarity suddenly found interest elsewhere and looked away. The griffon shrugged. “Ah well, at least they got you out of there. Certainly got further than I could’ve.” He raised his old tankard and poured what was left inside onto the floor, a gesture which got him some dirty looks from the other patrons. “To them.”

“They’re not, I mean, I’m sure they—“ Rarity cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Well what about you? What happened that led you to spend your days drinking away in the company of mercenaries and thugs?” She waved at their surroundings. “How did you end up here?”

“Oh. Well, to put it simply, it’s like I said earlier. We lost.” Gustford shifted in his seat and leaned a cheek against his closed fist. “It was some time ago, after the Squid Wizard had gotten his fortress set up on what was left of the capital.” His face broke into a scowl. “If we had organized quicker and hadn’t wasted so much time arguing over logistics and who got to lead what, maybe we could’ve attacked when their defenses were still down. Then, maybe.”

He smiled sadly. “We tried retaking the capital twice, us knights and what was left of the guard and the royal army. First time was your typical siege, second was a sort of diversion to keep the enemy’s attention off our infiltration team. Both ended in complete and utter failure, and after the second retreat, we kind of just, fell apart. Scattered. Every creature for themselves. The survivors anyways,” Gustford added, his gaze turning distant as it looked to past Rarity and all the others in the room. “You might be looking at the last living member of the Stormslayers, though I don’t think I can really hold that title anymore.”

At this assertion, he shivered and pulled up his tunic. Turning, he exposed to Rarity his back and the multitude of white scars and naked sections of blistering flesh beneath fur that had yet to grow back on it. In the center there were a pair of bandages nubs that stood where his wings should have been. Rarity raised a hoof over her mouth, covering it, but her gasp managed to escape through.

“Haven’t been able to fly since,” the griffon said as he rolled his shirt back down. “But I guess I was one of the luckier ones. So.” He crossed his forelegs over his front. “You said you needed my help. Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but the least I can do is hear what you have in mind. Just, ah.” He raised a claw, stopping Rarity from starting her request. “No promises.” The claw retreated and tightened into a fist as he stared down at the table’s surface. “I owe your father, His Majesty, everything, but I’m sorry. There’s a lot, I just can’t.”

“I understand,” Rarity said with a solemn nod. “And all I need is passage to the southern lands. Is that something you can do?”

“The southern lands?” The griffon looked at her and frowned. “Why there? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understanding wanting to get as far away from here as possible. Spiketopia’s a dangerous place now, especially for you, but if you’re looking for sanctuary, I wouldn’t recommend there. The deserts aren’t the most hospitable of lands, and from what I hear you’re not going to find much sympathy among the locals. The magi there tend to keep to themselves.”

“I’m not looking for somewhere to run to and hide away,” Rarity said briskly. “I have reason to believe that in the south there is—“ How had the Queen of Fey put it? “—information. Information that can be used to save those heroes and all of Spiketopia.”

“Really?” Gustford said, his head tilted to one side. He quickly straightened his posture. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to presume or suggest anything. Please, continue.”

“Well, have you heard of the term necromancy?” asked Rarity. She hoped he did because beyond that vague direction, she had little idea of what she was supposed to be doing and how any of it was going to help her save Spike and Discord.

“Necromancy, necromancy.” The griffon rubbed the top of his beak thoughtfully before shrugging. “I feel like I’ve heard that word somewhere, but for the life of me I couldn’t explain it. No, wait.” His talons flicked against each other, making a snapping sound, much like Discord would before opening the skies with chocolate or some other chaotic effect. “I’m thinking of pyromancy.”

“Pyromancy?” Rarity repeated.

“That’s right. A couple of jobs back, there was this adventurer I had the pleasure of working with. A mare, pegasus. She was a little, eh.” Gustford made a circular motion with his claw as he pointed it at his head “Though in my experience, most magic users are a little eccentric in one way or another.” He chuckled softly. “This one though, she had an obsession for setting things on fire and had a real gift at it. Called herself a pyromancer and her magic pyromancy. I’m guessing necromancy is something similar, a specific kind of magic or something like that.”

Rarity took a sip of water as she mulled over Gustford’s observation and proposal. “You mentioned something about the south, something about magi?”

“Yeah. They run a whole bunch of prestigious magic schools down there where they’re all isolated from the rest of the world. If I’m remembering correctly, Garbunkle is or was a student from one of them.”

“Hm. I’d imagine a school of magic would have more information on this necromancy subject then.”

“If it’s magical, then yeah, probably. But, uh.” Gustford frowned. “You really think getting that information will make that much of a difference? Enough to push the Squid Wizard back? Do you truly believe that?”

“I—“ The look Gustford was giving her kept Rarity from finishing her answer. It was just one word, just one short syllable, and yet Rarity could not force it out of her throat, not while under the gaze of such desperate eyes. She had to look away. “I don’t know,” she said. “I honestly cannot say that I do. I’d love to have something more concrete, but this is the only lead I have to saving my friends, and I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

Rarity took in a deep breath and turned back to face Gustford. “Sir Gustford. I can’t tell you that I know for certain that this information will be the solution to all our problems, but I know that I have to at least try to find out.”

Gustford breathed out heavily. “You should know, the southern lands, it won’t be an easy trip. There’ll be plenty of danger along the way, and then there’s deserts themselves. I mean, you’d be putting yourself in a lot of risk over what sounds like just a hunch.”

“Yes, well. As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Rarity said. She tried to sound nonchalant but had to admit, silently and to herself, that the proposed task before her was significantly more daunting than attempting new and untested dress styles or opening new store locations in heavily competitive areas.

“Are you sure about going through with this? I really don’t think—“

“I am sure.” There was no hesitation this time when Rarity spoke, no shakiness in her voice as she looked the former knight directly in the eyes. ”So I ask you again, can you get me to the south or not?”

Gustford leaned back and let out a long and loud breath as he drummed his claws against the wood of the table. “Alright,” he finally said. He gestured to Rarity’s untouched plate. “Eat up, then we’ll see what I can do.”

Rarity released her own breath that she had been holding. “Then, you can help?”

“I can try.” He cracked a small smile. “It’s definitely leagues more doable than, say, gathering you an army for a third go at it. Finishing eating first, and we’ll head to the docks afterwards. I might know a guy.”

Rarity started to relax, and in her unguarded state, her earlier hunger hit with the force of a steam locomotive that nearly knocked her out of her seat. Her stomach grumbled and quaked, making sure that Rarity, without an iota of doubt, knew of its frustration over her having ignored it and its needs for so long. At Gustford’s prompting, she got started on the meal before her. She soon found the bread stale and the cheese hard, with neither having much taste to write about and only seasoned by her own hunger. Each unladylike bite she had to take in order to get through the thick crust was noisy and with an audible crunch, and crumbs spread all over the table no matter how much care she took. When Rarity at last cleared her plate and had washed everything down with lukewarm water, it was to the satisfaction of her belly and to her own relief that that dreadful display of table manners was finally over.

She forced back the rumblings of a belch and disguised what did escape as a cough. “Shall we?”

Gustford nodded and stood up. He strapped his sword across the length of his back while Rarity returned the used plate, cups, and the emptied jug to the counter they came from. Once they were ready, the two set off, leaving the hall filled with adventurers.

21. A Fool and His Gold

A Fool and His Gold

Rarity followed the griffon closely as she entered the crowded square once more. Gustford, while not having an entirely formidable presence in comparison to some of the larger creatures around, did alleviate some of the stress that came with fighting the crowd by shoving open a path through which Rarity could readily follow as he led her down a new street that branched out of the center plaza. The scent of the sea grew stronger as they slowly made their way to the harbor Rarity had spotted earlier, and as they continue along this path, she noted that the horde of bodies in front and around her gradually became less and less dense.

There was also a noticeable shift in the population’s diversity. While the square now behind them was packed with a healthy mix of ponies from all three tribes, here on this road leading to and from the sea Rarity could only find a small number pegasi and earth ponies in dirty sailor caps and red scarves. She would have counted herself as the sole unicorn here had it not been for her still missing horn. Griffons like Gustford and hippogriffs meanwhile appeared to make up the majority along with several birdfolk, many of whom were dress lightly and armed with only a dagger or maybe a short sword strapped to their belt. Very, very few had on any heavier armor, and of those that did, most appeared to be members of the city guard on patrol.

Shadows fell over Rarity as winged creatures flew overhead. Despite the reduction in traffic density, the area was as noisy as ever, with the skies above rife with the screeching of gulls. As they got closer to the ocean, the calls and invitations of stall owners, several of which were of an amphibious frog-like race that Rarity did not recognize, were added to the din. The smell of rotting fish coming from the stalls assaulted Rarity’s nostrils, and her stomach churned at the rows of fish heads watching her pass by with their dull, dead eyes. The walls of the nearby houses were bleached white and grainy, and Rarity couldn’t help but notice that those with fur had dried and parched sections in their coats. Mostly ignored beggars lines the street sitting in trash and dirty puddles with their forelegs out and open to receive alms.

The paved road eventually gave way to wooden planks as the street opened up to a large pier. Some several ships floated about at the docks while their crews worked on them loudly, shouting and laughing and singing in harsh and out of tune voices as they scrapped off barnacles from the hulls or mopped the decks or made repairs. Foamy waves roared and crashed against the coast and the sides of the ships bobbling about. There were some barely any bigger than a standard luxury yacht while others were the size of large buildings. The biggest ship here was a colossal that sat at the very end of the harbor and could very possibly fit the entire population of Ponyville twice over. Its masts were nearly tall enough to reach the clouds, and the wide sails attached to them could have been used for circus tents. Painted on the sails was the image of a raised hoof wreathed in flames, and carved into the ship’s bow was the image of a fully matured dragon.

Gustford led her past a pair of griffons drying out a wide net and to one of the more modestly sized vessels. As they approached, Rarity heard a splash. Looking over the side and into the sea below, she found a couple of hippogriffs in their aquatic form cleaning grime and seaweed off a ship’s hull with a brush.

“Oi, Brine Drinker!” Gustford called out, startling Rarity and causing her to nearly jump. The griffon stood right before the ship with his claws cupped over his beak. “Brine Drinker, you here?”

A trio of heads popped up, a griffon’s, a pony’s, and a hippogriff’s. “Yo! Who wants t’ know?” growled the pony, frowning as he leaned over the side of ship.

“Some creature that that captain of yours owes a huge favor to,” Gustford answered as he folded his forelegs over his chest. “Ask him about the debacle at Port Meowza-rows.” He placed a hard emphasis on the last syllable. “He’ll know what I’m talking about.”

The three turned to one another and begun to whisper. “Alright, sit tight,” the pony instructed after they finished deliberating, and he walked off and disappear from sight.

“Who is this Brine Drinker,” Rarity inquired as they waited.

“Depends on the day of the week,” Gustford said with a smirk. “He’s a freelancer and will take just about any seafaring job. Ferrying passengers, carrying trade goods, smuggling contraband, scavenging wreckages, I’d bet he’d have tried making it as a pirate if he wasn’t such a coward. Has a bit of an odd sense of humor, but as far as dock regulars go, he’s an alright fellow.”

“Sounds like quite the interesting individual,” Rarity said. “And you met him at this, Port Meowzarows?”

“Meowzaru, actually. An old city on the coast of one of those jungle islands. He just kept pronouncing the place wrong, and it didn’t matter how many times he was corrected,” Gustford explained. “I was hired by him as a bodyguard for a, ah.” He winced and rubbed the side of his neck, his shame obvious. “An extralegal transaction. Weapons mostly, rare ones, magical, along with some experimental potions. One of my first jobs as an adventurer actually. It was just supposed to be a quick and easy drop off, but Brine got spooked and decided he needed the extra muscle.” He shook his head. “Turns out he was right. I barely got us all out of there with our lives, and since his clients figured he broke contract for not taking their dagger in the back, we weren’t paid. The moron didn’t even get anything upfront, so I only got half of what was agreed upon.”

“And you think he can help us?”

“Well, he owns a ship, and the quickest way to the south is by sea,” Gustford said. He continued to stare up at the boat’s edge. “We just have to convince him to take you there.”

A few additional minutes passed before the pony returned. “Yo! Ya think it can wait?”

“I haven’t the patience nor the time!” Gustford shouted back. “Is your captain here or not?”

The stallion looked to his colleagues before turning to Gustford and Rarity. “Make some room,” he ordered, and once they had, the three pushed a large plank over the ship’s side until one end of it landed on the docks with a thump, creating a bridge that connected the ship to the pier. “Right then, come ‘n up,” he barked. “The cap’ll see ya. But, uh, a little heads up,” the sailor added to Gustford as he climbed the plank, “he’s not ‘actly in the best of states, ya hear?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the griffon said, though his tone was less than assuring. He stepped onto the ship’s deck and extended a claw to help Rarity down.

It took Rarity a little time to find her balance. “Is that wise?” Rarity asked quietly once she found her footing and could stand on her own. “Perhaps we should come back at a better time. I wouldn’t want to antagonize this potential benefactor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gustford told her, waving away her concern. “Take it from me, if you want to get any business done around here in the docks or back in the lower city, it has to be on your terms. This isn’t like court life or the palace. Politeness won’t get you anywhere, and acting considerate just makes you look like an easy target.”

“If you say so,” Rarity conceded. The stallion motioned them forward and led them to the cabin behind the ship’s main mast. He knocked twice, then he opened the door and let Rarity and Gustford inside.

Rarity’s eyes needed a few moments before they adjusted to the darkness when the door closed behind her. The only light was what managed to get through the lines between the boards and the pieces of dark cloth covering a small, round window, which meant that much of the room was shrouded in shadows. All she could really make out was a desk at the other end and a figure sitting behind it.

Gustford squinted at the figure. “Brine Drinker, is that you?”

“Yeah, of course it’s me,” they grumbled, their voice low and hoarse. “Who else’d be the captain of this blasted boat?” They leaned over and hissed as they entered into the light and revealed themselves to be a hippogriff male, approaching middle age like Gustford. His entire body seemed to sag from evident exhaustion, and there was a sickly shade of green that was different from the lime color of his feathers. He held a claw to his forehead and groaned as the three sided hat he was wearing slipped over his eyes.

Gustford bent down to pick up a brown bottle from the pile and shook it. “Hard times?”

“Hardly,” the hippogriff snorted. “I was celebrating. Agreed to a job last night that’ll settle all my debts. By next month, you’ll be looking at a free bird. Or, fish. Or whatever I’m fancying on being that day.”

“Then it looks like I caught you at a good time,” Gustford said. “I’m calling—“

“Yeah, yeah, calling in that favor I owe you. I already heard from my guy,” the hippogriff interrupted. “You’ve been holding on that one for a good while now, you know. I figured you’d just forgot about it.” He stretched and leaned back in his chair. “So what can Captain Brine Drinker and the good old Merry Landing do for you? Looking for something or some place more exotic?”

“Not me. Her.” Gustford pointed a talon over his shoulder at Rarity. “She needs passage to the southern continent, the closer to the magic schools the better. Is that something you can do?”

Brine Drinker broke into a loud and boisterous laughter. His entire body shook as he threw himself onto his desk and pounded away. “Oh, oh, this is—“ he managed to say before being consumed by another fit of giggles that slowly turned to coughs as he started to choke. Rarity and Gustford turn to each other and shared a look of concern and awkward confusion.

“I suppose that would be a no,” Rarity said with a sigh.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” the hippogriff wheezed as he struggled to sit up. “Sorry about that, it’s just, hoo.” He steadied himself with a deep breath.

“You good?” Gustford asked, his forelegs crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I’m good,” Brine assured. He cleared his throat and smirked. “Alright, so that job I mentioned, the one that’s going to get all my loans sharks off my back? Guess where it’s taking me.”

“Would it happen to be the southern lands?” Rarity ventured.

Brine Drink clapped his claws together, and his grin widened. “I know, right? It’s this big bunch of bookworms from Candelkeep that need me to take them and their collection over to the southern schools for safekeeping. I can’t believe it myself. I mean, what are the odds? Funny coincidence, that.”

“Yes, hilarious,” Gustford said without an ounce of mirth in his voice. “So you’re already heading south. Good. You think you’ve got room for her to tag along.”

“Of course, of course. Not a problem, I can, well, actually.” Brine‘s face screwed into a wince. “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s not going to be that easy.”

Gustford frowned. “Brine, you owe me.”

“I know, I know.” The hippogriff held up both his claws. “Look, if it was anywhere else, I’d take you, your friend, and both of your extended families, no problem, no problem at all. But the southern seas, do you know what’s going on down there?”

“Can’t say I do,” Gustford answered.

“Storms, unnatural ones, and sea monsters bigger and more aggressive than anything anyone’s seen before!” Brine Drinker extended his front limbs out as far as he could stretch them. He then leaned over and motioned Gustford and Rarity to him. “They say it’s the Squidzard’s doing,” he said in the quietest of whispers, looking to each side warily, “that he’s trying to keep everyone in Spiketopia from leaving. I hear the same things are happening if you head too far west or north. Anyone that’s tried...” He drew a line across his neck. “No survivors.”

Rarity leaned over the table as well. “Then who’s this they and how do they know of all this?” she asked with a small smile. Next to her, Gustford stifled a chuckle as the ship captain started to stutter.

“Well, okay, okay. Maybe there were some who made it back. Look, I’m just trying to get you to understand what kind of situation’s going on over there. I can’t afford to make a three week voyage into those dangerous waters for free, it’s not worth the risk.”

“But you’re already planning on going through those waters already,” Rarity argued. “Surely my addition wouldn’t be that much of a burden.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m being paid to do that and being paid well. If word got out that I was giving out free rides through the south seas, I’d be known as the guy who’s willing to brave the dangers out there, and then every creature and their roommate’ll be coming to me for that sort of thing, and that’s really not the kind of business I can afford to be in,” Brine Drinker explained. “I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I do this regularly, it’s hard enough for me to keep a full crew. I know, I know,” he said, turning to Gustford, “I owe you, but the best I can do for you is a discount.”

“Then, you can take me there,” Rarity slowly and carefully said as she regarded the ship captain with a questioning look.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” he announced. “I can do that, sure. Just, you know, not for free is all, yeah?”

Gustford groaned. “You could’ve made that clearer. I was about to try and shake you down.”

Brine chuckled, but it was a weak chuckle that Rarity noticed, and he was eyeing the massive blade on Gustford’s back nervously. “Ha, y-yeah.”

“So, when do you leave and how much are we looking at?” Gustford inquired.

“Ha, right, ahem. The plan is to set off at the end of the week, early morn. Weather permitting, of course,” answered the hippogriff. “As for how much, um, just for her or are you coming along too? Because, um, I don’t know if I’ve got the room for the both of you. I mean, I can try, but—“

“Let’s start how much for just her.”

“Right, right. Well, considering how much we’re charging those Candelkeep guys, let’s see.” Brine hummed as he traced a claw around his beak. “Three hundred gold pieces.”

“You want how much?” Gustford exclaimed. Rarity, hearing the disbelief and ire in his words, turned to the griffon and saw that his eyes had narrowed.

“Whoa, hey, hey!” Captain Brine Drinker threw up his claws and pulled back from the desk. “Look, that’s a perfectly reasonable price considering what you’re asking. It’s a long trip, and I’ve got make room for her, make sure she’s fed, keep her safe. Er, you do want her safe, yeah? I’ll take that as a yeah,” he said quickly when Gustford responded with a glare. “Look, with all the extra provisions I’ll need to get, I need you to settle some of the cost.” The hippogriff looked to Rarity, his expression pleading. “You understand, yeah? Come on, look at it from where I’m standing.”

Gustford removed his broadsword, causing Brine to flinch. Rarity started to speak out until she saw that the griffon was only leaning it against the edge of the table. “Brine, I saved your life back then,” he said in a low voice.

“I-I know, I know. And I appreciate it, really.” Brine Drinker gulped. “Alright, I’ll bring it to two hundred, but that’s the lowest I can go. Honest. “

Gustford continued to stare at the shaking hippogriff for a while longer before sighing and straightening up. “If that’s really the best you can do—“

“It is. Best I can do. Really. Honest.”

“—then we’ll have to take it,” the griffon finished, frowning. “You said you’re planning on leaving at the end of the week. Anyway you can push that date back?”

“Can’t,” Brine Drink said. He removed his hat and wiped his brow. “Sorry, but my employers want to leave as soon as possible. The only way we can delay is if the weather’s not working for us. But, uh, look. This job, there’s a good bit of cargo that they’re trying to move, and it’s going to need a couple of trips.” While he explained, Brine moved his claws back and forth as if to demonstrate. “If you can’t make it when we leave at the week’s end, I’ll be back in, what, six weeks? Yeah, a round trip’s six weeks. That ought to give you enough time to get ready.”

“Six weeks?” Rarity repeated. The room around her begun to spin as she struggled with such a stretch of time. She had already spent so much time away from her home, her friends, and her family, longer than she had ever had before, and as much as she trusted Sassy Saddles and the rest of her managers, she shuddered to think of the state her business was in currently. The thought of extending her stay in these foreign lands by an entire month and more caused her chest to tighten, and she found her breathing constricted. She could hear Gustford and Brine continuing to converse, but their words were muffled as if the two were underwater or in a separate, distant room.

Something touched Rarity’s shoulder, which shook her out of her daze. She was back on the noisy pier, with Brine Drinker’s boat behind her. Gustford’s claw retreated, his expression one of worry as his beak opened and closed.

“I’m, terribly sorry. Were you saying something to me?” Rarity asked. She tried to force an encouraging smile, but from how the former knight’s face was painted with concern, it was apparent that she was failing.

“I asked if you were doing alright,” the griffon said. “You got awfully quiet back there. Seemed distracted, if you don’t mind me saying. I think even Brine was noticing, so I cut things short.”

“Oh. Er, it’s nothing,” Rarity assured hurriedly. “Just, tired. I’ve had quite an exhausting day today. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Should we go back and finish?”

“Nah, it’s not a problem. Don’t worry about it, Princess,” Gustford said. He gestured to the road and started forward, walking at a leisurely pace that Rarity could easily keep up with. “We were just wrapping things up anyways, nothing important.”

The sounds of the busy harbor slowly quieted as they got further and further away. “So, now happens now?” Rarity asked after a few moments had passed.

“First thing’s first, we need to get you settled in,” Gustford replied. “We’ll see to getting you some lodging. I’ll try for something private, but with how crowded Baldursgait is these days, that’s going to be difficult. It’d probably be safer just to keep you in my room, but that’s, ah, not exactly, um, proper.” He brought a closed claw to his beak and coughed as he turned away. “In any case, you shouldn’t expect much, nothing like the palace or anything that you’re used to.”

“That’s quite alright,” said Rarity. “I spent last night on a pile of straw. I’d consider anywhere with a mattress an improvement.”

“Oh. Um, wow. That’s, I’m sorry to hear that,” the griffon said, his words stumbling as his features turned and twisted with discomfort. Again, his claw rose to his mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So anyways. You try and get some rest. We’ll focus on finding some work tomorrow.” Gustford ran his talons through the feathers of his neck and let out a forceful breath.

“Oh boy. Two hundred in gold,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I’ll take another look around later to see if there’s anyone else willing to go south, but if Brine was telling the truth, I doubt we’ll find a deal better than what he’s offering. Still, we’ve got some time. If we find something steady pretty early on and save everything, we should have just enough by the time Brine returns and makes his second round.”

“You mean, when he returns in six weeks.”

“Yes.” Gustford stopped and turned around. “I, uh, are you sure you’re doing alright? I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but you sound a tad, well, off.”

“It’s just...” Rarity sighed. “Six weeks is a rather long time, and I was hoping for a more, expedient option. I don’t wish to delay this any longer than I must. The sea can’t be the only way of reaching those magic schools in the south, can it?”

“Well, no,” Gustford said, though he spoke with uncertainty. “I suppose you could always go by land, but there’s a line of mountains you’d have to get over, and then you’d have to cross a series of deserts. By the time you’d have reached your destination, Brine would already be halfway into his second trip there, and that’s not even considering how much more expensive it’d be to make all those preparations.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“What about flying there?”

Gustford’s initial response to Rarity’s suggestion was a look of puzzlement. “You, um, don’t have wings.”

“Well no, but I was referring by hot air balloon or chartering an air ship or, ah.” The expression of the griffon before Rarity was turning from slight confusion to bewildered concern and growing apprehension. “Never mind,” she said instead and started moving again, which prompted Gustford into continuing on as well. “Then, would there be any way to gather enough funds before Captain Drinker leaves. Perhaps I could use my position to get an audience with the city’s high society and convince them to give me a loan.”

“Ah, ha, no no, no.” A weak, nervous laugh left Gustford’s beak. “You do not want to owe any creature from the upper city anything, and you, you specifically, don’t want any of them to know your real identity.” He looked around and lowered his volume to a whisper. “A good part of the nobility in Baldursgait are from families your great grandfather kicked out of the royal court for one reason or another.”

“But that was generations ago,” Rarity protested. “Prin— I mean, I wasn’t even alive at that time. Surely enough time has passed to clear out any bad blood between us.”

Gustford made a face. “Well, when we were gathering strength against the Squid Wizard’s forces, Baldursgait was the only city we never heard back from, so someone close to the top obviously still holds a grudge.”

“But I heard there was a duke here who was a retired member of the army. Duke Ravenclaw or something similar,” Rarity said, recalling the street cat’s brief mention. “Surely he, wouldn’t he willing to aid us?”

“You mean Ravenguard? He’s just a mercenary who helped us in a previous campaign. That’s not to downplay his contributions,” Gustford added swiftly. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a formidable fighter and an impressive strategist, and he’s certainly earned his title, but you shouldn’t expect anything out of him without being able to guarantee something in return first. Even more so than the rest of this place, if you can believe it.”

There was a pause before he continued. “Listen, Princess, I understand your impatience, your frustration, I really do, but becoming indebted to Baldursgait’s upper class isn’t worth it. Just, take it a day at a time, and before you know it, six weeks will have flown by. I know it’s not the capital, but Baldursgait has its, well, I maybe wouldn’t say charms but it’s not that, I mean, not all the time.” Gustford frowned. “Well, you’ll get used to it.”

“If you say so,” Rarity said, her words heavy with reluctant acceptance. Though a large part of her wanted to argue, to protest against the notion that there was a cost too high for saving her friends, she struggled to spin her feelings into reasonable thoughts and statements, and her brainstorm of alternative avenues and options was clearing rapidly, leaving her mind as blank as a cloudless sky. It was apparent that Gustford’s sincerity and worry were genuine, and Rarity, recognizing that the griffon was more familiar with the area and its dealings and had nothing but the best intentions toward her, or at least toward Princess Shmarity, decided to trust his judgement on the matter.

They had now reached the busy square, but instead of returning to the hall the two had initially met, Rarity found herself following Gustford past the billboards that were still attracting a sizable crowd and around the ring of merchant stalls. For a short second, her gaze lingered on the sheets the boards advertised, their contents still unreadable due to the bodies in the way, before she hurried after her griffon guide to one of the buildings surround the plaza. A faded sign with the painted image of a bed was hung over the doorway they entered through.

They were greeted by an empty receptionist counter that stood between them and a wall made up of rows of small box compartments, many of which were stuffed with envelopes and packages. Gustford stepped up to the front of the counter and looked around.

“Huh. Must be taking a long lunch or something. I’ll have to track him down later. In the mean time, I suppose you can rest in my room.” He continued to the side of the room where a rusty gate stood barring access to a stairway leading upward. Rarity watched him dig through the pockets of his shirt and remove an odd, double ended brass key, as if someone had attached two keys together at their heads. Gustford unlocked the gate, and with Rarity following closely behind him, he made his way up the stairs and into a hall with doors on one side and windows that let in sunlight and provided a pointless view of the building next to them on the other.

Each door had a single digit number carved into it, and as they continued down the hall, the numbers increased. They came to a stop near the middle of the hall at the fourth door, and Gustford took out his key. He stuck the other end into the slot beneath the handle and turned it until there was a soft click. The door creaked open to reveal a small room furnished by only a small bed shoved to the side.

“Pardon the mess,” Gustford said as he scooped up articles of clothing that were scattered all over the floor and kicked bits of scrap paper and other assorted trash out of the way, some going right into the space between the bed and the floor. He gave Rarity a rueful grin. “It’s not much but at least the lock works.”

Rarity stepped inside. The room was cramped, with barely enough space to accommodate her in along with Gustford, the bed, and all of the junk on the floor, and it only got worse once Gustford had shut the door behind her. “It’s certainly, cozy,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Yeah. I try not to spend too much time in here.” Gustford picked up a blanket off the floor and shook it out. “I, uh, had the sheets cleaned a couple of weeks ago, so it should be fine,” he said as he stretch it out and over the bed’s surface. He gestured Rarity to the mattress, and she took a seat. To her welcomed surprise, it was much softer than it had appeared.

“You mentioned you were tired, right? Try to get some rest. I’ll look into getting you your own place.” Gustford started to the door. “Do you need me to get you anything else while I’m out? Food, maybe some extra clothes?”

“Actually, there is this.” Rarity went through her saddlebags and removed something wrapped in linen. “Do you think you could find some creature who could repair this?” She placed the package into Gustford’s outstretched claw. “Careful,” she warned as he undid the wrapping. “The pieces are still sharp.”

The remains of Huntress’s dagger now sat in Gustford’s claw. Rarity had been unwilling to abandon it in the alley where it had been broken. Leaving such dangerous litter around where it could potentially do serious harm did not sit well with her, but there was also an additional, less reasonable reluctance stemming from an odd attachment Rarity felt toward the weapon. Perhaps it was because she still considered the blade borrowed and that maybe one day she would be able to return it to its rightful owner, or maybe it was due to all the dagger had gotten her through. It had saved her from that foppish bandit in woods, and though Rarity could not say the memory of sticking the dagger into the murderous dandy’s eye was a fond one, it left her feeling that this inanimate piece of sharpened metal deserved far better than being left to rust away in the dust and refuse.

It was like having to throw out or give away an old and well worn dress after it no longer fit. Rarity knew it was silly, becoming attached to something so material, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she was bidding a good friend farewell.

Gustford examined the broken parts with a frown. “I don’t think fixing this is possible. Even if I manage to find a blacksmith who could put this back together, the blade would be too brittle to use properly. It wouldn’t be worth the fee. The iron’s still in pretty good condition though, all things considered, so you’d could probably get a fair amount of copper if you sold it for scrap metal, maybe even a couple of silvers. Do you want me to take care of that for you while I’m out?”

Rarity hesitated, but logic won out in the end. A dagger that would only break could end up doing more harm to its user than a theoretical enemy, and she very well needed the money. “Very well,” she eventually said, turning her head so that she could no longer see the dagger pieces in Gustford’s claws.

Gustford rewrapped the parts. “Do you have another weapon? I can lend you another dagger or I can go buy you one.”

“That’s quite alright,” Rarity said. “I still have this one.”

She pulled Elder Woods’s blade of obsidian out from her cloak to show Gustford who regard the strange dagger with a curious look. The griffon held out a claw, and Rarity allowed him to take it and get a closer look. He studied the runes in the stone blade for a while before returning it to Rarity and walking over to and digging through a pile of shirts and cloaks. “Here,” he said to Rarity when he had returned, presenting her with a new dagger complete with its own sheath. A red ribbon was weaved tightly over the dagger’s handle, and she noted that the ends of the cross-guard had been sharpened at the tips. “I’d feel better knowing you were armed with something a little more, conventional. We’ll get you your own later, but you can borrow that one for the time being.”

“Thank you.” Rarity accepted the weapon and pocketed it with the obsidian one. “Well, I suppose that will be all. Unless, hm.”

“What is it?” Gustford asked, gesturing for her to continue. “Is it pressing?”

“Ah, well, I’d certainly say so.” Rarity rolled her shoulders and rubbed at the spot they connected to her neck. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any place in town that gives massages, would you? Or maybe some place where I could get a nice warm bath?”

She had expected Gustford to give her a sideways look and a simple negative answer softened by an apology and maybe a half-hearted promise that he would keep an eye out for such an establishment though she really shouldn’t keep her hopes up for much success.

She had not expected him to nod.

22. Pool of Annihilation

Pool of Annihilation

Rarity couldn’t help but experience some of the excitement and giddiness she would usually reserve for trips to the local spa as she followed Gustford out of the room and down to the front lobby. Gustford made a quick note of the receptionist’s continued absence with an annoyed click of his tongue before they both stepped out and went through the busy and crowded square and up the road she had initially taken to find him. Rarity soon found herself back in the plaza with the dried up, defaced fountain that sat in the center of multiple branching paths. From there they then made their way to the other street Rarity had noted earlier, the one that seemed to the most heavily and universally used of the bunch, though with it being later in the day, now around mid to late afternoon, much of the traffic had subsided.

As they walked, Gustford made sure to point out certain buildings and streets to Rarity. The street signs that hung from poles or attached to the sides of buildings had long since been worn away to becoming illegible, but as long as she could recognize a couple of landmarks and roads, particularly the road she was currently on and the one that led to the adventurers’ league, Gustford assured Rarity that she would be able to navigate the city without losing her way. This road, the griffon had explained, led to the middle city which housed most of Baldursgait’s populace along with much of the recreational and commercial activity. A majority of the more general stores could be found up there as well as what had been described as an informal open marketplace, which would explain the carts with farm produce that Rarity had seen going this way earlier today.

The bathhouse they had decide upon was also located in this part of town. It wasn’t the most prestigious establishment, those belonged to the upper city and exclusively for the upper echelon, and didn’t even have a name, at least nothing official. There were several monikers given by the place’s patrons, but the most common one that could be used in polite company was the Decent Duchess because of an unsubstantiated rumor that the place was funded in part by a philanthropic noble. The concept of a kind and charitable member of Baldursgait’s aristocracy was laughable, as demonstrated by Gustford’s snorting when Rarity inquired, but there were few other reasonable explanations as to how the place could afford running hot water, a complete and equipped team of guards, and a pair of massage professionals for the relatively low price they charged, and besides, the name A Wizard Did It simply did not have the same level of appeal.

Even if Gustford had the money for one of the higher end bathhouses and had excess to the upper city, they probably would have still gone to this one. Being a place where creatures of different social standings would inevitably mingle, there was next to no chance that any of the nobility would be there to recognize Rarity as Princess Shmarity. It was still a concern as she would have very few options to hide her features once she disrobed and any makeup she’d apply would just wash off in the bath, but based on what Rarity told of her experiences in Horshire and with that family of clock store keepers, they both figured that she could continue playing it off as just being a lookalike, and it wasn’t as if the average citizen would be able to tell otherwise.

To Rarity, it was well worth the risk, and as she made her case to Gustford and convinced him that she would be fine, she tried not to think of how long it had been since she had a bath. A proper one, mind you, with actual warm water and real shampoo, not like the quick rinse with cold water she took before leaving Horshire, and she assured the former knight that having to share an area with those bellow her station wouldn’t bother her. Just to be on the safe side, however, and at Gustford’s insistence, Rarity kept her daggers close by, with the one from Gustford tucked away in her cloak’s inner pocket with the obsidian one. Rarity also had in there a small sack of coins, less than the size of her hoof, that Gustford had provided her with enough to pay for entry and give the massage therapist a decent tip should she so desire. There the purse would be safe from any would-be pickpockets, but having a large griffon carrying an even larger sword around was probably enough of a deterrent.

“Here we are,” he announced, stopping before a wall with ivy vines growing over the carved image of a mare, her mane flowing down to her hooves as she climbed out of a seashell. A couple of further steps brought them to a wooden door with a small closed slot near the top and a flap like a dog door at the bottom. There was no outward handle, Rarity noticed as Gustford approached the door and knocked.

The slot at the top slid open a moment later, revealing a set of squinting brown eyes. They stared at Gustford before looking to Rarity who stood behind him. “Two?” Rarity heard them say, their rough and curt voice seemingly belonging to a brutish female.

Gustford shook his head. “Just for her,” he said.

“One moment.” The eyes vanished, and there was a soft click on the other end. The eyes returned. “Fifteen silver pieces for one hour. Push them through the hatch when you’re ready.”

Gustford frown. “It was just half that only a little while ago.”

“Everywhere’s raising prices. You can take you complaints to someone else, I’m not paid to deal with them. Fifteen silvers.”

Gustford sighed and turned to Rarity with an apologetic glance as she took out her new purse. Gustford dug out a single gold coin from his own pockets and added it to the five silver ones Rarity had already prepared. She pushed open the flap and withdrew her hoof once she had dropped the payment, the coins making soft sounds of impact as they bounced against the pavement.

“Hm. Very good. Stand back,” the creature at the door said before the slot closed. Rarity turned to Gustford with a questioning look as more clicks and metal scraps and the slides of bars could be heard coming from the other side.

“They, uh, run things pretty tightly here. Like I said, a full security detail. There might have been some previous incident or something.” Gustford shrugged. “If it would make you feel more comfortable, I could go with you. Uh, safer, I mean. For me to keep an eye out, I mean. Er, for trouble, not you, or, on you specifically, while you’re, um.“

The griffon scratched at the front of his neck as he cleared his throat and looked away, clearly not entirely comfortable with his own suggestion. Gruff though he was, Gustford could still demonstrate the chivalry one would expect from a knight. It was certainly miles different from their initial interactions.

“I should be fine,” Rarity assured. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll stay careful.”

There was one final click, and the door swung open and outward. Standing to the side was the doormare, looking as tough as her voice had indicated with her thick cap and barding and a heavy club attached to her belt. “Welcome,” she said in a dull tone and a bored gesture that certainly didn’t scream welcoming.

“I’ll take care of selling what’s left of that dagger of yours and maybe see if I can find that innkeeper and get you your own living space,” Gustford said, stepping back. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“Alright then.” Rarity returned Gustford’s wave, and as he made his way back to the street, Rarity stepped inside. The door shut behind her, and immediately the mare started getting all the locks and latches back into place while Rarity took the time to take in her surroundings.

She now stood in what appeared to be a vibrant garden with patches of green grass and bright blossoms lined against the paved walkways. Vines grew over the wall, covering both sides, and to side there were two statues of mares holding jugs over their shoulders. Water flowed out of the jugs and into shallow pools where creatures in bathrobes and towels, mostly ponies but there was also a number of griffons and hippogriffs, sat around soaking their feet and chatting away as they enjoyed the open air and the sunlight streaming through the roofless top. Additional guards in similar garb to the doormare stood along the wall at varying degrees of attention, with some staring down at a group of giggling mares with vigilance and other staring at them with barely disguised lechery.

Rarity’s confusion must have shown because the mare at the door spoke up and asked, “First time?”

“Er, yes.”

The mare rolled her eyes and pointed to a set of red curtains on the wall to their left. “The baths are through there, massage rooms too,” she explained. “Entry fee covers the use of our towels, so you’re welcomed to them. We’re not responsible for what happens to any belongings, so keep an eye on your own stuff. Other than that, don’t cause any trouble. Got it?”

“I see,” Rarity answered with a nod and a friendly smile. “Thank you.”

The mare responded with a grunt and a folding of her front legs before her chest, which left Rarity to awkwardly excuse herself and make her way to the curtains she had been directed to. She pushed them aside, and when she stepped inside, she was met with a sudden wave of heat and a cloud of steam. The surprising humidity caused Rarity to nearly stumble as she continued through, and it took a couple of moments before the warm water vapors dispersed and allowed her a proper view of her new setting.

She now stood at the very edge of a large chamber, around the size of a lecture hall. The floor beneath Rarity’s hooves was of hard, chalky limestone, and the walls around her were layered with sleek porcelain titles, giving the room a brilliant white color that was nearly blinding and took a little time to adjust to. In each corner and in the room’s very center there stood a statue of a mare, similar to the ones outside, but while those were of earth ponies in modest gowns, the five inside were alicorns wearing little more than carved sheets of linen that clung tightly over their perfect marble figures, leaving little to the imagination. The four corner alicorns also had jugs of flowing water that cascaded into four great pools that put together took up a majority of the space. Steam pillowed from the two pools farthest from Rarity, and beyond them she could spot two openings in the wall that led further into the building.

The pools were all heavily populated by a mix of ponies, griffons, hippogriffs, and even a few zebras and a buck with towels draped over his antlers. Creatures of all appearances, genders, and ages soaked together, with mothers of differing races gossiping while their children swam and splashed each other only to be scolded by stallions with skin wrinkled and weathered by age and water exposure.

An older mare kneeling at the entrance bowed to Rarity and offered her a towel as she passed. Rarity accepted it with a grateful nod and turned to the closest, least crowded pool. She rolled up her sleeve and gingerly stuck her hoof in to test the water, only for her to pull back with a gasp, much to the amused laughter of a nearby group of bearded hippogriffs in their seapony form. The crystal clear water, while not ice cold and frigid, was much cooler than Rarity had expected or would’ve liked. It didn’t seem like any of the creatures in the pool minded the temperature much, and she supposed that the cooler water could feel nice and refreshing on a hot day, but it wasn’t what Rarity needed right now, so she moved on to one of the pools in the back.

A quick dip of her hoof confirmed what the steam suggested. Satisfied with the water’s warmth, Rarity looked around the room then turned to the closest female, a lone pale blue mare leaning against the edge of the pool with her mane wrapped up in a towel.

“Hello, excuse me,” Rarity greeted, getting the mare’s attention.

“Huh?” She leaned back to looked up at her. “What?”

“I was just wondering, is that where the changing rooms are? I don’t see any signs, and I would hate to cause a scene by walking into the wrong one.”

The mare followed Rarity’s pointed hoof to the openings in the back wall and raised an eyebrow. “That’s where the massages happen.”

“Ah. Then, could you point me to the dressing rooms?”

“Nothing like that here,” the mare replied. She shrugged and turned away. “Not much point if you think about it. Eventually, we’re all going to see everything anyways.”

Something about her grin made Rarity squirm. She followed the mare’s gaze to a impressively built specimen of a stallion rising out of the water, his toned flanks still glistening with bath water before their eyes as he slowly climbed out and shook his backside dry. Rarity swallowed and quickly looked away before her blush got any brighter. “Ah. Yes. I see.”

“Darn right you do,” the mare said, chuckling as she let herself sink deeper into the pool and waved Rarity away. “Now, do you mind? I’m trying to get my money’s worth.”

“Er, of course.” And with a polite nod, Rarity stepped away from the pool’s edge and walked over to what she hoped was the side of the room with the fewest wandering eyes. The very thought of exposing her bare body before all these strangers was, in her mind, completely and utterly absurd. It didn’t matter that ponies didn’t usually wear clothes to begin with and that even she had very few qualms with walking around naked whilst in public. No, the acts of dressing and undressing were to be considered intimate and private and if done in the presence of others, it was before a trusted few and very, very rarely before a member of the opposite sex. A proper lady should, would, and could never disrobe before an audience, especially not one made up of so many males and their lewd, violating gazes, and Rarity was a proper, classy lady.

A proper, classy lady with a dire need of a wash. It took a few moments for Rarity to recognize that she was being hysterical, and after a couple of breaths, she forced herself to calm down. She looked around and saw that no one was watching her in particular and especially not with any of the vulgar intent she had gotten all excited over. The millions of eyes Rarity had felt upon her had just been her panicked imagination as every creature here had their own things that required their attention. And why would they be paying attention to her anyways? As far as any of them knew, Rarity was just another mare taking a bath, just one of the dozen or so they’ve already seen today.

That realization didn’t exactly make her entirely comfortable with taking all her clothes off in such a setting, but after a few more calming breaths, Rarity managed to quickly remove her cloak before tossing her towel over her back in an attempt to retain a small amount of modesty. She started to take off her pendant but stopped and decided that getting the silver a little wet was far better than to risk losing or getting the powerful artifact stolen again. She folded the cloak into a neat bundle and searched for a safe place to store it, where Rarity would be able to keep an eye on it.

Against one of the walls or around the center statue seemed to be where everyone else was keeping their belongings, with those areas already crowded with clothes and accessories and even covered weapons, and Rarity couldn’t find anywhere better. She found some floor space beneath the alicorn’s outstretched wing and carefully set her cloak down as to avoid disturbing the possessions of her fellow patrons. She noted that many of the bundles of clothes had small items seated on them, like a sheathed sword or a rope belt or a cap, a way to distinguish one drab and dreary outfit from another perhaps. Rarity did the same, pulling out her new dagger and placing it on top of her cloak before returning to the pool of warm water.

The creatures at the bath’s border and in Rarity’s way reluctantly made the minimum amount of room she needed to get in, and she hadn’t even finished her happy sigh as she entered the water before they hurried back to their spots, closing the gap they had created. Their rudeness and inconsideration didn’t bother Rarity, though she didn’t think anything could have at this particular moment. The water was a little hotter than Rarity was used to but not painfully so, and once she had acclimated to the temperature, which didn’t take long, she entered a state of absolute bliss, with the foamy water caressing her stiff and tired body and washing away the dirt and dust and exhaustion that had accumulated over the past troublesome weeks. Her body felt as light as air as it floated, the weights of her all troubles seemingly being carried away with the flow.

A nearby splash ruined the serenity and rocked Rarity back to reality. Remembering that her time was limited to a paltry hour, she sighed and immediately got to scrubbing the length of her forelimbs and her sides and wherever else she could reach. What she wouldn’t have traded for a bar of soap and a bottle of conditioner, though Rarity did notice that something had been added to the water that caused suds to form when she applied enough force. Once she had reached a degree of satisfaction, Rarity leaned back and let the water rinse away lather and engulf her entire mane. She then let her hair soak for a few moments before combing through it with her hooves.

As much as she wanted to simply sit there in the bath’s warm and comforting embrace until she either passed out or was forced out, Rarity had other matters to attend to. Perhaps if any time was left after her massage, she could return, but for the time being she would have to leave. Again, those at the very edge parted to allow her space to climb out. Pulling herself out of the bath took a bit of doing, her body weighed down by water and reluctance, and Rarity quickly replaced her sopping wet towel with a new one and got started on drying herself. Then, with her mane wrapped up high with a third complimentary towel, she grabbed her belongings and made sure everything was there before she headed to the passageways in the back, where the massages were according to that one mare.

Both openings lead to the same fork, Rarity soon learned once she entered, with neither way having any features to distinguish them from the other or any hint of what was at their ends. Basing her decision on whichever path was closest, Rarity went left and followed the path to a small, dimly lit room. Rows of jugs with lightly scented perfumes and a number of fragrant candles were against the walls, and in the center was a pegasus sprawled over a low table, his wings stretched to the fullness of their span. Pounding away at his back was a lavender earth pony mare with the image of three candles floating in a bowl on her flanks who glanced up at the sound of Rarity’s approach.

“Sorry miss,” the mare said as she leaned forward and dug an elbow into the pegasus’ back, inciting a low, throaty moan. “We just started here, so it could be a while. Try the other side. My colleague might be free.”

“Ah. Thank you,” Rarity said, making her retreat as the pegasus let out another moan. She returned to the junction and continued onto the other path where a griffon walking in the opposite direction greeted her with a nod as he rolled his shoulders forward and back and made his way to the baths. The room on this end was nearly identical, the sole difference being that the table in the center was empty and there being a slender unicorn wiping at its surface with a piece of cloth. Their Cutie Mark was that of falling rose petals.

“Oh, hello hello!” they exclaimed when Rarity approached. Their words were buoyant with an odd accent Rarity couldn’t quite identify, like if you exaggerated Canterlot snootiness and slowed it down with country drawl and Manehattan slurring. “Welcome. Are you here for ah massage?”

“That I am,” Rarity answered. “Are you available?”

“But uh course!” The unicorn swept the cloth off the table and patted it. “Come, come, and we’ll get started right away. You can leave those wherever you’d like,” they said, gesturing to the bundle Rarity was carrying. She placed her belongings in a corner away from any of the little flames and set herself onto the table, belly down. The towel draped over her back was removed, and Rarity shivered from the sudden exposure.

“Uh dear,” the unicorn tutted. “My, you’ve been through quite a bit, haven’t you?”

Something cold poured over Rarity’s back before she could respond. The scent of flowers filled the room. “This oil will help you relax,” the unicorn explained before they returned to kneading around Rarity’s shoulders. Their initial touch was gentle, but the force behind it gradually picked up until the muscles around Rarity’s neck and shoulders became nice and loose. She couldn’t help but whimper as the unicorn pushed and prodded away the stiffness.

“Now, how does that feel?”

Rarity murmured out something, she herself wasn’t entirely sure what. The sentiment was at least clear, and the unicorn chuckled at the response and continued down Rarity’s body to start working on her lower back. Her eyes rolled beneath closed lids as the unicorn pressed down and around her spine, inflicting small bouts of pain and discomfort that were swiftly replaced with relief. It might not have been her usual treatment at the Ponyville spa, and she really could have used some friendly company to share this with, but after everything Rarity had been through in the past week or so, her experience here had been divine. It was nothing short of miraculous, finding such a wonderful place and such talented, magical even, hooves in this strange and dangerous land, and part of Rarity feared that if she dared open her eyes, she would wake up to discover that her time at the Decent Duchess had just been a dream.

“Ah, hello hello! I’m in the middle uh ah session right now, sir. Perhaps see if my colleague is free on the other side. Sir, please, I’ll with you in one moment. Excuse me. Sir, please.”

The unicorn’s amazing touch had left her. Frowning, Rarity forced her eyes open and looked up to find a yak, big and scruffy as typical for their race, marching into the room with no apparent care. Rarity immediately sat up and pulled a towel over herself, but the yak ignored both her and the unicorn trying to berate him. When the unicorn tried to block his passage, the yak simply pushed past them on his way to the back wall. Jugs of oil were smashed and trampled as he closely examined the wall, tapping at it with his horns and hooves while Rarity watched. She wasn’t sure what to make of the yak’s rude behavior, but she kept an eye on the large two headed axe he had strapped to his back as she slowly inched off the table. The yak hadn’t done anything with the weapon yet, but Rarity knew better than to stick around to see if that would change. Which was closer, she wondered, the exit or the daggers hidden in her cloak?

“Guards!” the unicorn cried out. “Guards, I need—“

A section of the wall suddenly slid open before Rarity’s wide eyes, revealing a stairway leading downward into darkness on the other side. An unpleasant stench wafted into the room and struggled against the perfume and aromatic candles. Rarity heard a choking sound come from the unicorn, and she turned and saw that they had gone pale.

“Yak,” the yak announces with a sniff and started down the stairway. Rarity released her held breath as the unicorn ducked behind the massage table. When they stepped back up they had in their magic grasp a curved and jagged dagger with something slick and green coating the blade. With their face twisted in a silent growl, the unicorn leapt over the table and lunged at the yak’s turned back.

23. What Lies Beneath

What Lies Beneath

“Look out!”

Rarity’s warning left her lips before she could think twice, and at the sound of her voice the yak turned and caught the wicked blade right before it could sink into his neck. He reached for his own weapon, but before he could grab his axe, the unicorn snarled and launched themselves at the yak. The blow caused the larger creature to stagger back and sent the both of them tumbling down the stairs and out of sight. A series of thumps and pained yelps could be heard echoing along the walls punctuated by a loud splash.

Rarity slowly made her way to the edge of the secret passage. A few flickering torches provided some dim light, but it wasn’t enough to see what happened at the stairway’s bottom no matter who hard she squinted. She was about to turn and get help when she heard a groan. Someone was hurt. Surely some creature had heard the scuffle and was answering the massage therapist’s call for security, but Rarity couldn’t be certain that those at the bottom could afford to wait for the guards’ assistance.

She started her descent, moving slowly as she watched each step by the light of the flickering torch flame. It didn’t take very long to reach the last few steps, which she took even greater caution as the surfaces had become slippery. Rarity’s nose wrinkled at the putrid smell of excrement and who knew what else, and she eyed the massive puddle below her that covered entire floor with a frown, the water as black and murky as a foggy evening. Every part of Rarity urged her to go back upstairs where it was safe and clean and there would be no danger of wasting her recent bathing efforts, but a mound of flesh and fur partially submerged in the center of the room stopped her from returning to the surface.

“Are you alright?” Rarity called out. The mound stirred but did not answer. Sighing, Rarity stepped down into the puddle, shivering as the water rose up and reached to the tops of her fetlocks. Each step she took wading forward caused her to squirm and wince and whine, and her only solace was that there was at least a bath close by for later use, permitting that the business would be willing to extend her time for her good deed or perhaps to head off any complaints.

“Excuse me, are you alright?” Rarity tried again once she had reached the mass. She held out her hoof and press it against the fur. Suddenly, the body of the yak rose out of the water with a roar, and in her surprise, Rarity slipped and fell, dousing her just cleaned coat and mane in water dirtied with who knew what.

“Out of all the, oh, this, oh,” was all she managed to say before breaking down into an anguished bawl. Her wails filled the room, ringing loudly against the walls around her. “This is the. Worst. Possible—“

Something splashed right next to Rarity, forcing her to close her mouth to avoid getting any of the polluted water inside. She looked to see the unicorn attendant lying face up, unmoving and with Xs over their eyes. The water around her started to move in waves, and she turned to find the yak standing over her. Rarity swallowed at the sight of his axe leaned against his shoulder with the blades gleaning by the light of the torches. His expression was unreadable, his eyes covered by braided bangs and mouth slightly bent in a neutral frown.

Rarity flinched when the yak raised a foreleg, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that he was only holding out a large cloven hoof toward her. “O-oh. Thank you,” Rarity said as she accepted the offered hoof and let him help her up onto her feet. She did as much as she could to wipe off what gunk and grime clung to her body, but it still left her white fur discolored and sticky, and she had doubts that whatever they had added to the baths would be enough to fix all this. She forced back a second round of crying and instead asked the yak, “So then, are you doing alright?”

The yak stared at Rarity for a couple of moments, causing her to wonder if he had misunderstood the question, before he turned away and started stretched his limbs and rotated his head side to side, leaning it against both shoulders. He then glanced over at the unicorn who had attacked him, snorted, and walked over to the wall to removed one of the torches from its sconce.

“I’ll, um, take that as a yes,” Rarity said with a wary smile. She pointed up to the top of the stairs. “Why don’t we return to the main floor? I don’t quite think we‘re allowed to be down here, but I’m sure that if we take the time to explain—“

The yak stuck the flaming torch right before Rarity’s face, causing her to interrupt herself with a yelp and take a few steps back. “Excuse me? What is the matter with you? You can’t just shove something as dangerous as an open flame into a lady’s—“

The yak grunted and turned the torch around so that the handle was presented to Rarity. Rarity stared at the end of torch that wasn’t burning then at the yak hold it with her eyebrows raised. The yak huffed and just kept gesturing at the handle and her.

“You want me, to hold that?” Rarity ventured. The yak nodded and continued to gesture until Rarity finally accepted the torch, making sure that the hot flame was a good distance away from her hair. “Well, ah, I’m afraid I’m not too entirely sure what you want me to do with this. Why don’t I just give this back to you and—“

“Yak,” the yak grunted. He motioned with a foreleg and directed Rarity’s gaze to an opening in one of the side walls she hadn’t noticed before. It appeared to be a hallway but leading to what, Rarity couldn’t tell. The darkness within was too thick for her to see through, and the light of her torch could only go so far. He nudged Rarity none to gently toward it and jabbed at its direction in emphasis.

Rarity glared are the yak. “First, I must say that I really don’t appreciate how you keep interrupting me like that. It’s rude and, ah! Excuse me!”

The yak had given her another nudge towards the side hallway and made another gesture at it.

“As I said, rude,” Rarity said with a sniff that ended in a cough as her nostrils were assaulted by the putrid air. “In any case,” she continued once she recovered, “I’ll have you know that I have absolutely no intentions of exploring this disgusting place any further. You are welcome to play around in the muck all you want, but I want no part in it. I am heading back upstairs to get another bath.” She sniffed at herself and grimaced. “Or five or six baths or as many as it takes.”

The yak‘s head tilted to the side as he regarded at Rarity with a look of bemusement. Then, with a snort, he pushed her forward, forcing her through the water and ignoring her protests until they were both at the hall’s entrance.

“Oh! How dare you!” Rarity exclaimed, her hooves clattering against solid, paved ground. “You, you brute! I will not be treated this manner. Do you hear me?”

The yak answered with another push, and when Rarity turned around to face him, she discovered her path back into the wet chamber and to the stairway was being blocked. The yak’s hulking body stood squarely in the way, and the stern and stony look on his face suggested to Rarity that asking him to move would’ve been a pointless endeavor. He heaved his weapon up over his head before pointing the great blades down the hallway.

“Yak,” the yak said, his tone full of impatience and frustration. He gestured again with his axe, and Rarity hid her nervous swallow with an exaggerated sigh.

“Oh very well then,” she griped, tossing her wet mane over her shoulder as she stepped forward. “I suppose the sooner we finish exploring here, the sooner you’ll let me leave.”

“Yak,” the yak said with a nod, and he too took a step. Slowly, they made their way through the dark hallway, with the torch in Rarity’s hoof lighting the way.

The taps of their hard hooves against the stone floor rang out loudly and echoed through the entire passage. As they continued onward, they were greeted by the noisy squeaks of rats who immediately ran off and hid in little holes in the walls when revealed by the light of the torch.

“Ugh,” Rarity muttered at the sight of a particularly fat rodent that had been brave enough to stand in the light and stare back at them for an entire second before scampering off. “How unsanitary.”

The yak grunted and pressed a hoof to his lips. Rarity rolled her eyes at the call for silence. She couldn’t imagine there being any other creatures down here in these conditions besides them two and the rats, and if for whatever reason there were others with them, the sounds of their hoofsteps, especially those of the heavier yak, would have long since alerted them of Rarity and the yak’s intrusion. Still, Rarity kept her thoughts to herself and made no further commentary even when the yak suddenly slowed them to a snail’s pace. Every couple of steps or so he would forced them to stop so that he could tap the shaft of his axe along floor and walls.

As they continued through the hall, Rarity caught the scent of something a little like rotten eggs. It was sulfuric but with something lighter and subtler mixed in that slightly diluted the smell. The yak must have noticed the odor as well because he paused for a short moment to growl and rubbed at his nose. At first, Rarity considered the possibility of the smell coming from the yak or, more reluctantly, herself now that much of the water they had both fallen into had dried into their fur, but a couple of quick whiffs suggested otherwise. This scent was different though for whatever reason it wasn’t completely foreign to Rarity. There was something about the smell that was familiar to her, but where and when she recognized it from was, however, something Rarity couldn’t quite place her hoof on.

The smell grew strong as they got closer to the end of the tunnel, and Rarity could spot a faint glow coming from the exit, though its source was still hidden in shadow. Had she been wrong about this place being deserted, Rarity wondered with a frown. Well, there had to have been some sapient creature around to put all those torches along the stairway including one Rarity now held, perhaps they had set some lights up over there as well. But for what purpose, and why was such a damp, dark, and disgusting place under a bathhouse anyways? She had been too distracted with the yak and the unicorn falling down the stairs to have given it much consideration, but now that she had an opportunity to think about it, having the entrance behind a false wall when a simple door and an ‘Employee’s Only’ sign would’ve done was oddly excessive, maybe even suspicious.

From what little Gustford knew and had told her, whole establishment seemed shrouded in mystery, and as Rarity approached the end of the hall her discomfort grew. Any excitement she might have felt over unraveling some conspiracy like the protagonist from her favorite detective novels was chilled away by the cold atmosphere of her current environment and an increasing dread.

“Maybe—“ Rarity began, only to immediate shut and cover her mouth as her voice was amplified by the walls around them. “Maybe we should turn back,” she tried again, dropping her volume to the lowest of whispers. She turned to the yak blocking her retreat. “Whatever the owners of this place have down here is really none of our business, and I can’t imagine they would appreciate us encroaching like this.”

The yak just shook his head and pointed her forward. Rarity let out a silent sigh and turned right back around. Well, she had already gotten this far, the hall’s exit only a few steps away, might as well find out what they were trying so hard to hide.

The glow grew brighter. The strangely familiar stench became more noticeable. It took mere moments for Rarity to finally reach the end of the hall and step onto the edge of a large open chamber with a dome ceiling. Much of floor had been flooded with that disgusting, contaminated water save for a narrow path that led from their hall to a raised platform in the center of the room, like a little island in a sea of sludge with a bridge connecting it to the mainland. Great flames spewed from large torches attached to columns in each corner, illuminating the entire room along with a bowl of fire that hung from the ceiling over the dry stage by a number of chains. Each of the three walls before Rarity and the yak opened into a massive passage the size of a train tunnel, two of which were blocked off by large rusty gates. The remains of a third gate could be spotted sticking out of the muck near the only unsealed passage which stood directly in front of them.

The flame of her torch flared as Rarity entered the chamber where the smell became almost unbearable. The odor came from the black goo below, that became clear once Rarity’s nose had gotten right above the rancid liquid, and at this realization, Rarity was suddenly brought to Sweet Apple Acres, during a particularly messy situation involving Applejack’s bovine boarders and some foreign grass from Zecora’s homeland that didn’t exactly sit well with their stomachs. Oh, that had not been a fun weekend for them, and Rarity still felt that Applejack hadn’t been entirely honest when the farmer asked for her and the rest of their friends to help clean. Only dear Twilight Sparkle showed any bit of enthusiasm for the task, and that was because it gave her the rare opportunity to discuss the magic behind the digestive system of ruminants and some article she had read recently about intuitive cattle ranchers capturing the combustible gases their guests would produce, at least until those very gases became too much for even her love of lecturing.

As if Rarity didn’t already have enough reasons to avoid the filth covering the floor. She lifted her torch a little higher as she unwillingly recalled all the immature jokes about flammable farts Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie’s had made that day, but that was all the concern she could spare in that direction, what with the majority of her attention going to the four figures standing on the center platform, crowded around a large altar made of stone. All four were equine in shape, but the rest of their appearance was hidden beneath black cloaks and hoods and silver masks with draconian features. They all had both a curved sword and a dagger strapped to their sides, and one of them also carried a disembodied horn similar to the ones the yak behind her had growing out of his head.

“You’re early,” one of the masked figures, the one leaning lazily against the stone table, said. Their voice was distorted by the mask. “Our shift doesn’t end for another hour. Not that I’m complaining or nothing.”

“Wait a tick,” another one began as they actually took the time to turn and look. “They’re not—“

Rarity felt something fly over her shoulder. A moment later one of the figures was flung off the platform and landed with a loud splash, struck by the giant axe that suddenly appeared and now clattered against the altar. A mighty roar coming from behind Rarity soon followed, and she was knocked forward and nearly fell down into the muck as well as the yak charged past her and down the path toward the remaining creatures in cloaks.

“Intruders!” one screamed. They pointed to the figure with the horn as they grabbed at their scimitar. “Sound the alarm! We’re under—“

Their mask crumpled against the yak’s hoof, shutting the creature up and sending them to the ground. In that time their ally had drawn their blade, but the yak ducked under their swing as he grabbed hold of his thrown axe. He reared up onto his hind legs, and with the axe held in his front ones, he slammed one of the heads into the attacker’s head, cutting their scream short as they collapsed. There was another sword swing, this time by the one the yak had punched in the face. A chunk of the mask had been broken off, and beneath it was an expression of anger and hate as they struck at the yak’s flank, leaving behind a red mark.

The yak growled, his face contorted by flaring nostrils, bared teeth, and a seething glare. He swung his own weapon in response, but the pony leaped back and dodged the axe as a deafening, beastly roar filled the room and echoed through the tunnels. Both Rarity and the yak turned to the source of the sound and saw that the creature with the horn had brought its tip to their lips and was blowing into it. The yak raised his axe toward the trumpeter, turning his back to the other pony who took the opportunity to take another swing and leave another gash. The yak brushed off the blow he ran forward to silence the horn’s blast, but he found the black, wet mess that had suddenly thrown itself out of the water and onto his broad shoulders much harder to ignore.

The pony the yak had opened hostilities with now had him grappled, and if the sudden extra weight hadn’t already halted his progress toward the pony sounding the alarm, their attempts to stab at his neck certainly would most definitely have caused the yak to shift priorities. He dropped his axe, freeing his forelimbs to knock the dagger out of the pony’s grasp before it could sink into him, then leaped and slammed his front hooves down in a powerful stomp. The hindrance’s grip around the yak loosened, and with a roar of rage he tossed them off and away. Rarity was forced to dive down to the floor as they soared over her head and crash onto the hard walkway behind her, and she winced and her ears flattened against her head at the painful sounding crunch that came with the landing. They skid across the length of stone path and stopped only once they had reached the border separating the chamber and the hall Rarity and the yak had entered through.

To Rarity’s amazement, the body that was now between her and the exit slowly got back onto its feet. The pony’s legs shook and knocked together, and their chest heaved with each labored gasp that was barely audible even once the cry of the horn had been silenced. They took hold of their mask and flung it off, revealing the badly bruised and swollen face of a gray maned stallion as he panted and coughed.

The stallion drew his sword and stumbled forward even as he struggled to catch his breath. Past all the bruises and swelling there was a look of uncertainty on his face as he stared past Rarity and assessed the battle behind her. That expression changed from one of apprehension to one of surprise however once his unsteady gaze settled onto the mare standing right in his path. Then, surprise turned to anger.

Rarity took a step back as the stallion stepped forward with his sword waved at her, the curved blade as wicked as his sudden, disturbing grin. She raised up her hooves in surrender. “I assure you, I’m not with him. This has all just been a huge misunderstanding. Please, there’s no need to be—“

The stallion screamed and broke into a full gallop with his sword raised and readied. Rarity grimaced and bent down into a crouch as she ran through her limited options. The walkway was too narrow to maneuver around the crazed pony rushing toward her, and the ongoing combat behind Rarity kept her from continuing backwards. That meant she would have to either deal with the attack head-on by blocking the blade with her torch or striking her assailant first, neither of which Rarity had much confidence in achieving, or avoid the attack altogether by leaping to side and into the muck. The latter was the safer option for sure, but to Rarity, jumping into that swamp of sewage was hardly any better than deliberately putting herself in the path of the stallion’s sword.

Said sword was rapidly closing in. Rarity needed to decide fast. She took a deep breath and readied herself to act when the moment was right. Not yet she told herself, squashing down the rising panic that threatened to overtake her. Not y—

Something grabbed Rarity by her shoulder, and before she could react, she was pulled back and away from the charging stallion. Rarity dropped to the ground beside the altar in the middle of the platform and glanced up in time to watch the yak knock the stallion’s curved blade away before bringing his axe down against the stallion’s side. The blow sent the cloaked pony back into the water, and after the initial impact and a few ripples, the muck stilled with no sign of the stallion resurfacing. In fact, the whole room was still and silent with the exception being some heavy breathing by the yak. The bodies of the other cloaked ponies floated face down in the fetid waters, motionless.

The victorious yak limped forward to Rarity and the stone altar, using his axe a crutch. The battle had clearly taken its toll on him, with cuts running along his body visible even through the yak’s thick and unkempt fur. Despite everything the brutish creature had put her through, making her trek through this dirty place and forcing them into that fight, Rarity still rushed over to check up on him. He had just saved her after all, even if it was his fault that she had been in that situation to begin with. Admittedly, there wasn’t much she could do for him, what with her lack of medical supplies and expertise, and Rarity doubted she had the strength to hold the larger creature up and help move him.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, but the yak waved her away and reached into his bag. He pull out a small vial of red liquid, and just like with the feline in the alley, the yak’s wounds started to heal once he had drunk the vial’s contents, with a number of the red lines fading or even vanishing completely. Several marks still remained however, and he still walked with a noticeable limp.

Rarity saw him staring down the one open tunnel before them and frowned. “I believe we’ve done enough exploring for today,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to get anything in those open cuts now, especially not whatever’s in that water. Let’s turn back before you get infected by something.”

The yak grunted and shook his head. He first pointed at his ear, then gestured toward the open tunnel. Rarity pressed her lips together tightly and held back her annoyed sigh as she turned her ears in that direction. At first she heard nothing, but after a few moments she caught the sound of hooves splashing through water. Several hooves and they were quickly growing louder, closer, and with them came chanting that resonated along the tunnel’s walls. The creaks and groans of old metals rubbing against each other and the clicking of chain links suddenly filled the chamber as the gates of the side passages slowly rose out of the mire, and soon movement and warlike chanting and even the beating of drums could be heard coming from those tunnels as well.

24. Fester and Burn

Fester and Burn

“Ah.” Rarity coughed, clearing her throat that had tightened. “Well.”

“Yak,” agreed the yak with a grim nod. He rubbed his hooves together and rolled his shoulders as he continued to stare down the center tunnel.

“Well, I suppose we have all the more reason to leave now,” Rarity said. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard over the sound of the approaching creatures, far more than the number they had just dealt with if the noise that was being made was any indication. “Let’s get going.”

The yak snorted and picked up his axe. Instead of starting toward the hall they had entered from like Rarity was, however, he made his way around the block of stone and stood so that he directly faced the middle passage. He answered their growing chants with a loud roar, and he pounded away at his chest and slammed the end of his axe’s handle against platform’s floor, issuing his own challenge.

It was a frustrating display of aggression and masculinity, but based on what little time Rarity had been forced to spend with the yak, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Are, are you serious right now? You want to stay and fight?”

“Yak!”

“You’re hurt, and that was just after fighting off four of them! There must be dozens heading this way, possible even more. You can’t seriously be planning on taking them all on.”

“Yak!”

She shook her head. The stubbornness of yaks was well documented, and Rarity had interacted with enough of them for enough time to have personally experienced their inflexible nature, but this? This was on a whole other level that Rarity had no interest in entertaining. She had done what she could, but the yak had clearly made up his mind, and there was no reason for Rarity to stick around and share his fate, especially not when her friends still needed saving. Still, she took no pleasure in leaving as she turned her back to the yak and ran toward the exit.

She had only halfway across the narrow path when the hall’s entrance was sudden covered and blocked by a massive spider web. A metal bolt whizzed past her cheek and buried itself into the wall, and Rarity flung herself down to the floor in time to avoid several others that flew mere inches overhead.

“None of you are leaving here alive!” Rarity heard someone croak out. Slowly, she turned herself around and raised her head. Almost half of the entire room was now occupied with equine bodies in the same black cloaks and silver masks as the ones they had first encountered here. They too had blades at their sides, but many also had crossbows out, loaded, and ready. Rarity scrambled back to the platform and took cover behind the altar as some took aim at her and opened fire.

“You dare trespass on our sacred place, to steal our wondrous blessing?” the gravelly voice continued. “Bah! Which band of heretics sent you? I will feast on their still warm innards while they watch.”

Rarity looked over the top of the stone and stole a peek at the speaker who stood front and center. He, like everypony else, wore black and had much of his face hidden by a mask, but his was golden instead of silver and had a medley of colorful gems around the eye holes. It also did not cover the pony’s features completely, unlike all the other masks, and left the bottom of his face clear, giving his big bushy white beard plenty of space to be free. He held a polished staff with glowing symbols carved into the wood and a large piece of crystal on the end that he was pointing in Rarity’s direction. The ponies beside him also carried staffs and wands, though theirs were simpler and lacked such decorations.

“Yak!” exclaimed the yak as he struggled against the webbing that stuck him to the front of the altar. The stallion in the golden mask made a gesture, and one of his nearest subordinates raised their crossbow and released the loaded bolt. The yak roared as the missile’s sharpened tip found its way into his shoulder.

“You shall tell us who you’re employers are or else you shall know suffering like no other before you pass on.”

“Yak,” the yak spat out.

The ends of the pony’s beard bristled. “So be it. Have it your way.” He gestured again, and a second bolt soon followed. Then a third and a fourth as the cloaked figures lined up and took turns aiming at the stationary target, forcing Rarity to duck back down behind the stone block as a few of the shots went wide off their mark. Each bolt that struck true caused the yak to cry out in pain until eventually his throat became hoarse, and he was left panting with his head hung limply.

The apparent leader of the bunch raised a hoof, and those with the crossbows lowered them. “I know you’re hiding back there,” he growled. “You have to the count of three to start talking before we finish turning your comrade into a bloody pincushion. And should you not value his life, just know that you will be next. One.”

“Wait! Just, alright. Don’t shoot.” Slowly, Rarity stood up with her hooves raised high. “Please, this has all just been a huge misunderstanding. We didn’t mean to trespass on these, ugh, sacred grounds, and we certainly didn’t come here to steal anything.” She tried smiling. “I’m sure we can all come to a peaceful agreement. There’s no reason to continue this violence.”

Some of the ponies snickered. Their leader, however, lacked any of his underlings’ humor and simply put on a deep scowl. “I have no desire to make peace with a heretic harlot—“

“Excuse me?” Rarity snapped, forgetting herself and her current position. “That was completely uncalled for. Were you ever taught manners or did they just decay from your time down in these sewers?”

“Silence!” the stallion screamed. He slammed his staff into the water as the crystal started to glow red. Those nearest him inched away. “I will not be interrupted by the uninitiated! Another unwanted word from your lips, and I shall strip the flesh from your very bones! I’ll ask you the same thing I asked your companion. Who sent you after us?”

Rarity didn’t have the answer to such a question, and she didn’t think she had enough information about the situation to make up a convincing lie. She doubted this group was the reasonable sort that would’ve been satisfied with the truth, that she had just been an innocent bystander who had been forcefully dragged into all this, and even if they did believe her, it didn’t seem like they would just let her go free. Her sole escape route was directly behind her, but in her way was a big white and sticky obstacle. In the corner of her eye, Rarity could spot the torch she had dropped a little ways away, but while its flame still burned, she wasn’t sure it’d be enough to get through the webbing, and even it was, who knew whether she’d even reach the entrance before she was caught in the rain of crossbow bolts.

Her mind raced as she tried to keep up an air of calm. The yak’s weak breathing which reminded Rarity of his presence was not helping. Even if her exit hadn’t been blocked and she wasn’t being targeted by so many crossbows, making her escape still wouldn’t have been so simple. She may had been willing to leave the muscle-bound meathead behind before, and it may had been completely his fault that he was even in this state, but the thought of abandoning an injured creature for her own sake was something Rarity found utterly distasteful. Coming up with a way of getting the both of them out of here safely was most ideal, but right now she was having trouble thinking of a plan that would at least guarantee her own safety.

“Well? Answer me!”

“It, it was from the adventurers league,” Rarity tried.

“Yes, obviously,” the bearded stallion said, the roll of his eyes almost audible. “I would have expected as much from meddlesome adventurers like yourselves. But who posted the job? Who’s providing the reward?”

“I, don’t know. It was posted anonymously.”

“And you just accepted this job without knowing who the client was?” the leader asked, the disbelief clear in his tone.

“It, the reward I mean, it was too good to pass up.” The crowd was beginning to stir impatiently. Rarity was losing them. “Ah, but!”

The room went quiet for the first few moments following Rarity’s desperate, lone conjunction. “But?” the group’s leader cued with a wave.

“But! But, ah, aren’t you, um, curious? Yes, curious!” Rarity stalled. “Aren’t you curious as to, how we, ah, found your secret place?”

“You mean, you weren’t just told to come here?”

“Well, no. No, of course not,” Rarity said with a shrug. “Our mysterious client, they didn’t give us any instructions outside of finding your cult. I mean.” She chuckled softly. “This place is so well hidden, it’s not like anyone, outside of your group of course, could have discovered it on their own.”

Beneath that wild beard, Rarity saw the stallion’s mouth twist into a frown. “You’re suggesting that one of our own helped you get here?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I am suggesting,” Rarity shouted over the loud whispering of the crowd as many of them turned to their neighbors. “And, and I-I’ll only tell you who it was if you let us both leave. And we’ll never come back here again or tell any creature about what happened here, I promise.”

The mutterings swelled in volume. Those standing at their leader’s sides, the ones with staffs, leaned toward him to discuss in hushed voices, but they were waved away. “Enough!” he yelled, slamming his staff down once more. The water and its contaminants muffled most of the impact against the floor, but it was enough to call for silence from his followers. ”Let you leave, hm? No. No, I don’t think we will.” He pointed at the restrained yak. “Finish off the big one,” he ordered, “then thoroughly interrogate the mare until she has nothing left to say.” To Rarity, he smirked. “Don’t delude yourself, fool. You’re in no position to bargain. Eventually, you will be telling us who this supposed traitor is.”

“Wait, wait!” Rarity cried out as the crossbows came back up. “Just, I would like to say one last thing. Please, just allow this last request.”

The crossbow ponies hesitated and looked to their leader for instructions. The bearded stallion in the golden mask huffed. “Make it quick,” he said, gesturing wearily.

“Yes, well.” Rarity cleared her throat, then dove for the torch next to her. A couple of the surrounding ponies shouted and some reactively shot their bolts at her as Rarity grabbed the burning stick and tossed it to the side. Her heart nearly stopped when the flame flickered and almost went out in the air before it landed in the water with a plop.

Suddenly, the surface of the floor was no longer covered in sludge but instead a sea of fire as the torch’s heat ignited the volatile gases and materials in the gunk. Panicked screams filled the chamber as the flames climbed onto everypony standing ankle deep in sewage, the wetted sleeves and hems of their cloaks serving as easily accessible footholds for the rising inferno. The organized rows broke as the ponies scattered and tried futilely to beat away the flames which only cause the fire to spread further onto their bodies. Many fled down one of the three passages they came from. Those that tripped or were shoved down by others in their haste to escape fell into the burning liquid fuel where they were quickly and mercilessly consumed.

Rarity had to look away from the few remaining, withering bodies that continued to burn where they stood, but try as she might she couldn’t completely block out their horrific cries. Slowly, the screams and crackling of the fire died down as glow and the heat surround her lessened. A few smoldering flames still lingered, but none were large enough to threaten her at this distance, and the room was now devoid of any cloaked ponies.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself was a mistake, Rarity quickly learned as she coughed out the inhale of ash and noxious air she had pulled in. She had to sit down to avoid collapsing as her shaking legs were on the brink of giving way. “Sweet, Celestia,” she breathed as she fought the rising urge to gag. It was all too much at once, the smell lingering in the air, the memory of the screams echoing in her mind, the images of the bodies twisting like wood in a bonfire, and Rarity leaned forward and opened her mouth to retch.

Nothing spilled out save for a bit of spit, and after some increasingly embarrassing and less than ladylike dry-heaves, Rarity settled back down. That discomfort was already fading, and a weak grunt at the altar reminded her of more pressing concerns. She approached the trapped yak and started to peel away at the webs that held him in place.

It was a surprisingly easy task, with the silky strands essentially melting away at her touch. The difficulties came when the yak’s heavy body fell on top of Rarity and all but crushed her. He nodded his thanks to her as she managed, with all her strength, to push him off and set him down on the floor. Once comfortable, the yak then proceeded to rip out the metal bolts still stuck in him and toss them into the fire, at a pile of ash that propped up the warped remains of a crystal tipped staff.

“I, ah, don’t think,” Rarity started to say as the yak took out another tiny red flask. The punctures the bolts had left behind shrunk until they couldn’t be seen beneath his fur once the potion took effect. “Oh, er. Well, never mind then.”

She didn’t have to wait very long for the yak to return to his hooves. Before Rarity could even inquire of his status, he slammed a hoof on his broad front and grunted heartily. “Yak,” he declared and stared at Rarity as if expecting her to retort. When she didn’t react, the yak tried again with another prideful thump and smirked, giving Rarity the first smile she had seen him wear.

The silence between them stretched on for a time. Finally, Rarity responded with a tired sigh and a shake of her head. “I would very much like to leave right now. If for whatever forsaken reason you want to stick around, fine. I, however, am going to go now, but before I do, I want to make sure you to understand something.”

Rarity carefully took in a breath before continuing. “I did not want to be down here to begin with. I never wanted to be down here in this dirty place full of disease and degenerates, risking my health and safety. but here I am, and it’s because you forced me. All I wanted was a bath, just a bath with warm water, nothing excessive, maybe a massage afterwards, but instead, because of you, I’ve been attacked, shot at, threatened, ruined my mane and coat that I had just gotten cleaned, and have been forced to do something I will forever be haunted by in my nightmares.”

She paused and stared the yak squarely in the eye. “I want to be clear, I’m not asking for compensation. I honestly couldn’t imagine how much it would take this right or even if that were possible, and quite frankly, you don’t look like you’re carrying much to begin with. No, I just want you to understand what you put me through, what I had to do because of you, and, and you’re ignoring me. Again. Wonderful.”

The yak had turned his back to her and walked away even as she was speaking. As he bent down to pick up his axe, Rarity‘s face turned red. The inconsiderate oaf was finding more interest in that dull block of stone he had been glued to than in her impassioned words. Her cheeks swelled as she drew breath and readied to unleash every last bit of her frustration and anger, to scream and shout and yell and rant and rave until her throat was raw.

Instead, all that came out of her mouth was a single extended exhale that left her spent and exhausted. Rarity sighed again. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. Farewell.” She turned and started toward the exit, the webbing that had been in the way having dissipated.

The yak’s axe came crashing down onto the altar behind her without warning. Rarity jumped with a yelp at the sound of loud impact of metal on rock, the blow being barely a foot or more away. She spun around with eyes wide and knees bent, half expecting a second strike directed at her. She flinched as the yak lifted his axe and swung it again, but again it struck the altar’s surface where a growing gash was beginning to form in the stone.

“What are you—“ Rarity started to say, but she was cut off by a roar and a thunderous third strike that spilt the top of the altar in two. The yak then unceremoniously shoved the stone halves onto the floor where they landed with a heavy and dusty thud. Beneath the removed surface, there was a large and obvious opening for all to see, a hole big enough for an adult pony to squeeze though that led to a cavity concealed within the altar. And inside that now revealed compartment, Rarity’s eye caught the distant glint of something bright and shiny and familiar.

Her desire to leave at once diminished slightly as Rarity’s curiosity was admittedly piqued. She moved a little closer to get a better look at the altar’s interior and discovered trove of treasure that rested before her wide and awed eyes. Piles of gems of every color and type reached up to her, from bright green emeralds and smooth jades to brilliantly blue sapphires and aquamarines, rubies and garnets, opals and pearls, onyxes and zircons. And the diamonds, there were so many diamonds, from black ones to blue ones, greens to reds to whites, with some being as large as her entire hoof. By the looks of it, the collection went well past the bottom of the altar and into the platform beneath her hooves itself.

Topping it all, as it sat at the peak of the largest, most visible pile of gemstones, was a statuette of a multi-headed serpent, five in total with each head expertly carved out of a differently colored diamond. No, not a serpent, Rarity realized as she saw the legs coming out of the winged body made out of your standard clear and colorless diamond that connected the heads together. A hydra perhaps, though she wasn’t sure whether hydras had wings. Maybe a dragon with multiple heads then, like the one Spike had dressed up as some Nightmare Nights ago?

A less experienced mare might have been overwhelmed at such a sight, and even Rarity, with all the time she had spent in caverns that had walls literally made up of beautiful and valuable gemstones, had to be impressed. She herself owned numerous chests of gems, mostly reserved as dress materials, but this was more akin to a dragon’s hoard than a collector’s accumulation or an enthusiast’s cache. It felt appropriate then that the miniature statue of the strange creature with five heads sat on top of it all, like a little guardian prepared to attack anyone foolish and daring enough to try to steal from it.

The yak went and ruined the scene by stepping forward and pulling the statuette up and out of the altar. He gave it a quick once-over, turning it over and examining its sides and underbelly, then with a satisfied nod, he stuffed the diamond idol into his bag and started towards the room’s exit and the hallway’s entrance. He stopped twice along the way, once to pick up his weapon and sling it over his back and once more right before stepping over the chamber’s threshold.

There he paused and turned to Rarity. He gave her a slow, deliberate nod and laid a hoof first on his shoulder before bringing it down to the center of his chest.

“Yak,” he said one final time and walked on and out of Rarity’s sight before she could say anything in response, leaving her alone with the heaps upon heaps of magnificent jewels and the ashy remains of their foes.

25. The Only Way To Be Sure

The Only Way To Be Sure

Spontaneous combustion was never something Rarity really thought about, but with how red Gustford’s face was and how much his neck seemed to bulge and how wide his eyes were to the point of them escaping their sockets, Rarity couldn’t help but feel some concerned over the possibility of the griffon right before her suddenly exploding. With his broadsword out and ready, the former knight had found her in the now deserted bathhouse soaking alone with a cloak stuffed to the brim with diamonds and valuable gemstones beside her head at the edge of the pool. Unconscious guards and abandoned articles of clothing and towels were strewn all about the white limestone floors along with the shattered remains of the alicorn statues.

It took Rarity some time to explain all that had happened, starting from the yak’s interruption of her massage and his forceful recruitment of her to their encounter with the cultists below and the discovery of their treasure to finally what she could only assume was her barbaric acquaintance’s swift and violent exit as Rarity herself was only there in time to see the aftermath. It took Rarity even longer to get Gustford to stop his excessive apologizing for leaving her alone and in danger like this and to assure him that she hadn’t experienced any bodily harm outside of the stains in her coat that she was currently trying to get out. She hadn’t completely convinced the griffon, however, who for the next couple of days refused to let her leave his sight.

That included taking Rarity with him to where the rest of the treasure was and forcing her to wade through the unsanitary waters once more. Once again, Rarity’s efforts to clean herself had been in vain as a new layer of grime and gunk replaced the muck she had just washed off, but seeing as Gustford was stressed enough already, she kept her complaints to a minimum. And if it meant being able to carry out more of the spoils, well, she supposed she could endure a third bath in a day.

Now they couldn’t take the entire hoard with them, there was just simply too much for two creatures of their size to move, so they picked out and filled Gustford’s bags with the best of the bunch. When the two had finally left the bathhouse, they had collected, by Gustford’s most conservative estimate, well and far more than enough to buy passage on Brine Drinker’s vessel. Any plans they might have had of gathering more of the treasure later on were thwart by the presence of the city authorities swarming the establishment the following morning, which wasn’t the hugest setback considering their initial haul. Once Gustford had its value converted to gold, after Rarity finished browbeating the jeweler for trying to downplay the quality of the gems she herself had personally picked out, and settled payment with the captain of the Merry Landing, there was enough leftover for a grand tour of some of Baldursgait’s more luxurious hotels and restaurants.

Rarity didn’t go that far. She settled instead on spending the remainder of her time in Baldursgait at a perfectly adequate inn in the middle city where she enjoyed a decently sized room, a soft bed with clean sheets, and a door with a secure lock. She had also gotten her cloak professionally washed and maintained, her travels having done quite a number on its seams, and had updated her wardrobe with a simple, frill-less dress perfect for casual strolls through the streets and a small, brimmed bonnet that completed the outfit. Beyond that and a few trips to the local cafes for a decent soup or salad and an occasional baked good, Rarity left the money in Gustford’s capable claws to deal with any additional expenses and preparations the more experienced griffon thought necessary. At his request and really more for his own comfort and state of mind than Rarity’s actual safety, she accompanied Gustford as he shopped for supplies, which included:

Some extra preserved travel rations, new saddlebags made of tougher material and with larger pouches, additional water canteens, a fully stocked first aid kit to replaced her spent medical supplies including fresh bandages, some antidotes for common poisons, several vials of that red healing potion Rarity was already familiar with, and a tiny glass jar that contained only a few drops of aloe ointment to be reserved for emergencies at Gustford’s insistence, a gaudy bronze anklet that the griffon would not let Rarity refuse, claiming with a completely straight face that it had magical protective properties, and which took an entire hour of fitting before it came close to feeling comfortable, a small hair brush, some perfume at Rarity’s request as she doubted Brine Drinker’s ship was equipped with a shower and three weeks was an awfully long time to go without bathing, an additional change of simple clothes, and a brand new dagger similar to the one Gustford had lent her, with a traditional cross guard separating the straight, double edged blade from the hilt and a sheath.

It was certainly a well made weapon, but a blade was only as good as its wielder. In the short time they had left before the date of departure, Gustford taught Rarity what he could. He fixed her stance and her grip, demonstrated the most efficient ways to stab and slash without expending excessive stamina, pointed out the most common vulnerable spots to aim for and the areas to avoid, and had her practice the two most important maneuvers for her to know until her forelegs shook at the end of the day from exhaustion, those maneuvers being parrying and just holding the weapon properly. The griffon’s tips and tricks didn’t all translate smoothly from his claws to her hooves, but eventually Rarity got to the point where she could confidently swing her blade a couple of times without dropping it in a wild panic.

Gustford had been of two minds regarding his brief tutorage. On the one claw, his reluctance in teaching her such a dangerous skill was obvious, with Rarity noticing that his jaw would lock and his claws would twitch and rise whenever he saw the dagger in her hooves, and his constant, figurative hovering over her as she practiced left him with the appearance of a mother hen. The very suggestion of having his princess anywhere near a fight was clearly making the former knight ill, but he also recognized how necessary it was for her to learn how to defend herself. Rarity had already been through a couple of skirmishes, and she would likely go through a few more before this was all good and over. His own blade and body and the knightly oaths he had sworn could only protect her so far, especially since he would not joining her on her expedition.

The Merry Landing simply did not have the space for the both of them. Taking just Rarity along was pushing it, but in order to squeeze in Gustford, Brine Drinker explained that he would have had to substitute him in as a member of his crew since he couldn’t just ask his clients to make room, and that would mean having to compensate the now jobless sailor a great deal to dissuade any complaints for making such a last minute change, and keeping the loyalty of a full crew was hard enough and who knew if he’d ever be able to hire anyone else if word got out because sailors talk amongst themselves you know, and it’s just a long and complicated and costly process, and it‘d better for all parties if they could just avoid the whole thing.

Predictably, Gustford was not pleased with this development, but the only alternative Brine Drinker could offer was that they wait for the Merry Landing’s return and join him on his second southbound voyage as he would have had the time to renegotiate and come up with a way to accommodate them two together by that time. That, of course, would mean having to wait the six or so weeks it would take Brine Drinker to make the round trip, which Rarity was adamantly against. It was a stubbornness that Gustford, who wasn’t aware of Rarity’s true circumstances, couldn’t completely understand, and Rarity herself knew that in her impatience to save her friends and return to Equestria, to her home and her old life, she was being overly reckless, maybe even dangerously so. In the end, however, Rarity remained determined to leave as soon as she could, and Gustford would yield surprisingly quickly and shift his focus from trying to convince Rarity to change her mind to instead making sure that the mare he thought was his princess was well prepared.

The only other thing of note that Rarity had managed to do was attempt a search for a library or bookstore. Taking a page out of Twilight’s book and to avoid the same mistake she had made at Candelkeep before her arrival here, Rarity hoped to do some research on her destination. Any information on the southern lands or those schools of magic Gustford had mentioned might have helped, and if she managed to find anything on necromancy or on her mysterious Queen of Fey, her confrontation with that possessed stallion in the alley being still relatively recent and fresh on her mind, then so much the better. Unfortunately, Baldursgait lacked any sort of public library, and the private ones were all exclusive in who they would permit entry, with many requiring letters of recommendation or a demonstration of loyalty to their organization, which Rarity lacked both the time and the drive for, and though there were a few merchants in the market that had tomes and scrolls amongst their wares, none had what Rarity was looking for.

And so her brief stay in Baldursgait came to a dull and uneventful end, with no more bumps with pickpockets, no further encounters with otherworldly creatures, and no additional discoveries of secret cults hidden beneath public areas. The morning of Rarity’s departure was an early one, with Gustford waking her up an hour or two before sunrise. They had a light breakfast of leftover bread with cheese and apple baked into it, then after Rarity had taken a thorough check of her saddlebags and finished getting dressed, with her new dress underneath her furnished cloak, she check out of her room, leaving her key on the empty receptionist’s counter before the two set off.

There was a light drizzle as they made their way to the lower city. The streets of Baldursgait were empty up until they reached docks where grumpy sailors were up and out and wandering about as they complained loudly and vulgarly. The screams of seagulls above them were as obnoxious as any rooster’s crow, and if that hadn’t been enough to rid Rarity of the last of her sleepiness, the brisk morning air of the sea would have. She took a second to tighten the strap of her bonnet to keep the winds from snatching it off her head before continuing on to the harbor. A thick layer of fog covered the port and hid much of the boats that had been secured there, but it did nothing to muffle the noise of boisterous dockworkers hard at work. Despite the early hour, Rarity could already hear several loud shouts and grunts and the thuds of objects being dropped or thrown.

Rarity followed Gustford into the fog and shivered at its cold, moist touch. She could barely see her own hoof as she stepped onto the pier and almost walked right into Gustford when he had stopped before the side of a ship. Rarity could only assume that the ship before them was the correct one, what with her vision so obscured and she not exactly remembering if the Merry Landing had any distinctive features like a flag or figurehead, but after some several seconds ticked by, she turned to Gustford and saw that he was frowning and tapping a leg impatiently.

“This is the right ship, correct?” Rarity asked.

Gustford gave a short nod and continued to frown. “Pretty sure. Brine said he’d be meeting us at the pier though. Where is he? Hm. Excuse me, princess.” The griffon raised his head and cupped a claw over his beak. “Brine Drinker!” he hollered. “Brine, where the heck are you?”

“Look out below!” some creature on board called back, and a second later, a plank extended over the ship’s side and slammed down onto docks, right in front of Rarity and Gustford. They shared a quick, sideways glance before climbing the plank up onto the ship’s bustling deck. A crew of pegasi, griffons, bird folk, and hippogriffs were scrambling about, carrying large metal chains and thick coils of rope and rolling along heavy barrels. Some hovered above, pulling and pushing at the large white sails while those at deck level tied them into position.

A hippogriff in a long trench coat and a tricorn cap stood in the center barking out orders until he noticed Rarity and Gustford’s arrival. It was their captain, Rarity soon recognized as they approached the hippogriff.

“Ah. Er, welcome aboard,” Brine Drink said as he tried to maintain a small, nervous smile. “We, uh, we’re running a little behind schedule right now, weather being what it is. Those Candelkeep folks weren’t exactly too happy to hear that, and I’ve been spending a good chunk of an hour trying to get them off my back. That’s, uh, why I wasn’t, uh, down there to meet you. You understand, yeah? I mean, you found your way here alright, so it’s not like you needed me, yeah?”

Gustford raised an eyebrow. “Right then. Brine, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, what? Me? Yeah, yeah.” He laughed a little too loudly, which caused some of his crew to stop and stare. He waved them back to work and cleared his throat. “Just, you know, it’s the start of a new job, and a big one at that, be a little odd if I didn’t have a bit of the jitters. And then we’ve got this fog, and there was some talk of it being a bad omen, and then I had to calm down that grumpy old geezer who wasn’t too happy about the delay, and then we had to go through all of the cargo just to convince him all his blasted books were secure, and now I’ve got to deal with you and your—“

Brine stopped himself with a wince, after a stretch of silence that approached awkwardness, he continued, saying, “So, um, there’s a bit of a delay. Shouldn’t be too long, just until the fog’s gone, probably won’t even take half an hour. Just, wanted to make sure you understood, yeah? That’s not going to be a problem, yeah?”

Gustford looked to Rarity who shook her head. “Oh, it’s not a problem,” she assured. “I don’t mind waiting for the weather to clear. Honestly, I’d be more concerned if we were to set out with all this fog in the way.”

Gustford returned to Brine Drinker. “Well, there you have it. No problem.”

The hippogriff let a relieved sigh. “Thanks. Finally, it’s good to hear something reasonable today. And uh.” He coughed and scratched the front of his beak. “Listen, Gust, I just, I wanted to let you know, I’m sorry about, you know, not making room for you too. I just, I didn’t have time, yeah? You know I would’ve if I could, yeah? No hard feelings, yeah?”

Gustford took a few moments to answer. “I get it. No hard feelings here.”

Brine sighed once more. “Oh, good. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

“But,” the griffon added as he swung a foreleg over Brine Drinker’s shoulders and dragged him away, putting a bit of distance between them and Rarity. “But just because I get it doesn’t mean I have to like it. See, me not being there means I’m not going to around to protect her,” she heard Gustford say. “So I am, with great reluctance, leaving that up to you.”

“Well, hey, you don’t—“

“Ah, ah,” Gustford interjected. “Don’t talk, just listen. That mare is very important to a lot of powerful creatures in Spiketopia, myself included. Now if you value yourself at all, don’t ask questions, don’t pry, and don’t you dare let anything happen to her. Because, if say anything were to happen to her?” He leaned over and whispered something too low for Rarity to catch. Whatever was said, it made Brine Drinker’s eyes go wide and the color fade from the feathers of his face. His gaze went from the griffon to Rarity, then to the massive broadsword on Gustford’s back, and then back to Gustford himself.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Brine nodded fervently. “Y-yeah. Keep her safe. I-I’ll make sure it.”

“Good.” Gustford smiled and patted the shaking hippogriff’s back before starting back to Rarity. “Now, let’s get settled in. Brine?”

“R-right.” Brine Drinker cleared his throat. “Right,” he repeated a little more confidently and motioned to a set of stairs that went below deck. “Right this way,” he said as he led the way down.

Gustford started after him but stopped when he noticed Rarity’s frown. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Rarity continued her disapproving stare at him for a second or so before she looked away. “It’s nothing,” she said. She understood Gustford had good intentions and that he was worried, but scaring the sea captain like that felt excessive. Still, Rarity didn’t think chastising him now would help matters much. She’d have to apologize to Captain Drinker later.

The deck below was dimly lit by a few secured lanterns. As they passed each room on their path, Brine gave a quick description. “That’s storage for extra supplies,” he would announce, pointing. “Those two go to the crew quarters, but you’ll be a separate cabin with our other guests. That over there is the kitchen and mess hall, which, coincidentally, is right across the waste and lavatory room. Medical bay is there. That door there leads down to the cargo hold. And, ah, here we are!” They came to a halt. “Guest quarters.” Brine Drinker opened the door and started to step inside.

“Can’t you knock?” came a raspy grumble. The source of the less than friendly greeting sat in a hammock hanging in a corner with several crates around them. It was a stallion with a coat as dull and brown as his robes and an age as great as his wrinkles were deep and numerous. What was left of his mane, light pink with the pink barely visible, was braided into a short rat tail. A similarly colored and uneven fuzz grew beneath his chin, though the area between his snout and his upper lip was cleanly shaved.

He wasn’t alone. In the other corner there hung a second hammock, and resting in it with their snout buried in a book was a mare that looked a little younger than Rarity. She was dressed in drab robes like the old stallion opposite of her that didn’t quite complement the bright blue of her fur, and her rose colored mane was tied in a stern bun that was far too mature for a mare so young. A pair of wide rimmed glasses were perched on the end of her nose that threatened to slide off as she shrunk back when Rarity nodded to her in greeting.

Brine Drink muttered something under his breath before clearing his throat. “Right. Well. Allow me to introduce to your cabin mates for the next three weeks. Professor Don Pedogogo from Candelkeep,” he said, gesturing to the old stallion. “And his assistant, Miss Bluestockings.” There was a wave toward the mare who hesitantly raised a hoof to shyly return the wave.

The stallion scowled. “That’s Professor Don Pedagogue,” he said. “Ped-dah-go-gue. How many times are you going to get it wrong? Are we setting off yet? It doesn’t feel like we’re moving. Why aren’t we moving? What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be working on getting us to move?”

Brine Drinker held up his claws. “Sorry, sorry,” he said with a forced smile. “We’ll be off shortly, once the fog’s dies down a bit.”

“Hmph,” the stallion snorted, folding his front legs over his chest. “That’s what you said an hour ago.”

“Been ten minutes, you lousy—“ Brine mumbled out before cutting himself off with a cough. “Ahem, anyways this is the mare I mentioned about, the one who’ll be joining us. She’s, uh, huh.” He turned to look at Rarity. “I just realized, I don’t think I ever got your name. N-not that that’s an issue or anything. No questions asked, yeah?” He glanced over Gustford who bit back a groan as he planted a claw over his face. “Well, I’ll just leave you all get to know each other and whatnot. You can put your stuff over there.” He pointed Rarity to the third corner with a hammock before turning to address the old stallion. “We’ll let you know when we’re about to set off, yeah?”

He backed out of the room with a lazy salute, just a tap of his claw on his forehead. No creature moved after that, not until Rarity cleared her throat and put on her brightest smile. “A good morning to you both.”

At least the mare had the courtesy to attempt to smile back and wave before returning to her book. The stallion, the professor, just huffed as he lay back in his hanging cot and caused it swing with his constant shifting.

“Boy, the next three weeks are going to be rough,” Gustford muttered as he and Rarity went over to her corner, the only open section left as the room’s fourth corner was occupied by additional crates and boxes. “They look harmless enough at least, and I know, I know, you‘re in a hurry to get to the south. But I just want to be sure that you’re sure. We can still wait to take the second trip there together.”

“Oh, I am sure,” Rarity answered as she set down her belongings. It did feel a little odd to Rarity to see her luggage consisting of just a single set of saddlebags instead of the multiple piles of suitcases she’d normally take on a trip. At Gustford’s insistence, they went through Rarity’s bag again and meticulously checked to make sure she had everything, and then, to be doubly sure, they checked again. It was like dealing with an overly protective parent seeing their child off on their day of school, and no matter how much Rarity assured that she had everything, Gustford was unconvinced.

They were about to check her bags again when the door swung open. It was not Brine Drinker who stood at the doorway but a pegasus in a blue and white striped shirt with a bandanna tied around his neck and another one over his mane. The old stallion who had nearly tumbled out of his bedding and onto the floor started to grouse over the pegasus’s intrusion, but the newcomer just ignored him.

“Boss sent me to tell you that the weather’s clearin’, so we’ll be movin’ in, like, five sea minutes.”

“About time,” Professor Pedagogue said. “We’ve been waiting for hours already. What in the world is a sea minute?”

“It’s, uh, like a minute, ‘cept you’re on the sea.” The pegasus turned to Gustford. “And also, you’ve gotta go ‘fore we set off, so, uh, you gotta go.”

The griffon hesitated before nodding. “Alright, just give me a minute to say goodbye.”

“Can’t you do it while you’re leaving?” asked the old stallion. “I can’t believe we have to wait because of you two. Honestly. Hurry it up.”

Gustford, Rarity, even the professor’s assistant and the sailor that Brine had sent down all shot Don Pedagogue dirty looks, none of which seemed to bother the old pony much at all. Rarity stood up, and with a nod toward the door, she and Gustford left the room and made their way back up to the top deck. The skies were still gray and cloudy but at least they could be seen now that the fog was gone, swept away by the wind. A powerful gust blew by and stole away Rarity’s hat as it tore apart its straps, but before the wind could carry it away, Gustford snatched the hat up and returned it to her.

“Thank you.”

Gustford nodded but was silent for a moment longer. “Alright,” he said when he finally spoke, “the moment you land in New Tesaddledale, see if you can find a mage with a sending spell or something. If you can’t find anyone in Tesaddledale—“

“—find someone at the magic schools as soon as I get there,” Rarity finished as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They had gone over this so many times already, it was growing tiresome.

“Right. There’s bound to be someone there who can help you with that. Wait, no, I’ll contact you. I can probably find a magic user somewhere in this city who could use the gold, and that way we can keep in touch during your entire time at sea. No, that won’t work. I’d have to tell them your identity, and we can’t trust any creature here with that.” The griffon grimaced. “Alright, back to original plan. Contact me as soon as you can, and if I don’t hear from you, then we’ll risk letting others know about you. And make sure you have your purse close to you. I don’t know much about the southern cities, but pickpockets aren’t exclusive to Baldursgait, you know. You have it on you?”

Rarity patted the front of her cloak where she kept her sack of silver, gold, and platinum coins.

“And your daggers?”

She patted around the same section but on the other side this time.

“Good. Keep them close. You’ll never know when you’ll need them. Make sure you sharpen them regularly. Or, at least, the normal one, I don’t really know what to do about that stone one of yours. But don’t sharpen it daily, otherwise the blade’ll get brittle and—“ Gustford stopped himself with an extended inhale. “Just, promise me you’ll be careful, Princess.”

Rarity placed a hoof against the griffon’s foreleg. “I will. I’ll be careful.”

His claw slowly extended and enclosed tightly around Rarity’s hoof. “Alright then,” he said softly before releasing it. “I should, ah, go. I’ve delayed you long enough. But, um, first, here.”

From his shirt Gustford pulled out a bulging bag and put it into Rarity’s hoof. “Some of the leftover diamonds,” he explained. “Just in case they, I don’t know, don’t accept gold and silver down south.”

Rarity nodded as she stuffed the bag into the pocket of her cloak. “Thank you, Sir Gustford, for everything.”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s the least I could do,” Gustford said with a wave. “I’m just, you know, duty and all that. Just, be safe.”

With that last request and an awkward bow, the griffon hurried off the ship. Rarity walked over to the ship’s edge to watched his retreating figure until it was lost in the crowd. A few minutes later, the ship started to move as its voyage had finally commenced. The city and its port slowly became smaller as they sailed on, carried away by the winds against the crashing waves, and Rarity said a silent farewell to Baldursgait as it eventually disappeared from view.

26. Howling on the Moonsea

Howling on the Moonsea

The world around Rarity spun, robbing her of her sight, her breath, and all sense of direction. Outward pressure forced her eyes shut, and every time she opened her mouth to take in air, something cold and fluid rushed in and threatened to flood her lungs. Up, down, left, right, front, back, all became meaningless as her limbs flailed about, grasping nothing but the cold darkness that surrounded her. She tried to move herself, but her hooves found nothing to push off against.

Her legs were growing heavy as Rarity’s efforts quickly sapped away her energy. It soon felt like trying to force her legs through honey or congealed syrup. They went limp, and her chest tightened as she could feel the bottom of her air reserves. Her mind raced, screaming and yelling in the place of her closed mouth. Her panicked thoughts drowned out the small reasonable part of her that was still calling for calm, and they continued to ring out in Rarity’s head even as her mind slowly went blank and her body started to shut down.

All of sudden, Rarity felt something burn against her chest. The sensation forced her back into consciousness, and her eyes forcibly flew open. Her vision was blurry, and at first all she could see was a bright glow in front of her. Slowly, very slowly, the blurriness faded, and out of the light Rarity could just barely make out the shape of a long, lanky figure. As she continued to squint, more and more details could be seen. Mismatched wings. A body of brown fur. Red scales covering the tail. A flowing mane.

The burning on her chest continued, and Rarity looked down to see that her silver pendant was wreathed in a hot white flame. It seemed to pull away from her, as if trying to escape from the chain it was attached to. Carefully, Rarity grabbed the symbol, but the searing pain she had been expecting never came. Rather, the silver snowflake felt cool against her hoof despite the fire that appeared to be covering it.

A lion’s paw closed her hoof over the symbol. Rarity looked up to face the Queen of Fey that now stood mere inches from her.

“What do you want?” they asked her.

Air! her struggling mind screamed desperately. The darkness on the edges of her vision was expanding. Breath!

With a small, rueful grin, they extended a single talon from their eagle’s claw.

“This is two. You have one more.”

The mysterious being, the light, and the heat all disappeared, leaving Rarity alone in the dark and cold once more. Her mouth opened in panic, and her lungs were filled with air. Life sprung back into her limbs, and with each breath she swallowed, her mind became clearer. Rarity forced her legs to move together, coordinating them so that each stroke cut through her surroundings and caused her body to move.

Upwards she went, up and up until her legs tired. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and let herself drift and be carried away by the momentum. A short break, she said to herself, just until she had regain some strength.

Some time later, Rarity was awoken by something hitting against her. She couldn’t tell what, couldn’t tell where, only that it was there and that she could touch it. More feelings were returning, first something cold and fleeting that kept coming back and then something warm and constant. Those conflicting temperatures slowly shifted around until Rarity slowly came to realize that they were from different sources, coming from different directions.

The cold was below her or maybe behind her, and the warm was above. And the thing she had felt initially, it was in front of her. She could still feel it’s rough texture against her cheek. Rarity tried to move her hoof to get a better sense of the object that she had bumped against. Her leg, however, was as heavy as a stone and refused to lift. She tried again, and this time she was rewarded with a small twitch.

Rarity decided to try something potentially easier. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, and immediately she regretted doing so as a bright beam of light assaulted her vision and left her blinded. She hissed out in pain, and in doing so, she took in a deep breath of fresh air. Coughs overtook her as she forcefully expunged salty water from her windpipe and stomach.

Slowly, as her strength returned and her legs begun to obey her commands, Rarity propped herself up into a crawling position and winced as her belly and shins scrapped over the coarse surface. Keeping her head low, she tried opening her eyes again, slower this time, and she found herself on a patch of sand. The brightness was still present, but as long as she didn’t stare up at the sun overhead, the source of both the light and the warmth, Rarity‘s sight was largely unaffected, with her eyes already adjusting to these new conditions.

A wave collapsed onto her lower body before retreating to the rest of the sea behind her. Rarity shivered from the freezing water and crawled through the sand, struggling with the weight of her soaked clothes until she got to drier ground. Once out of the sea’s reach, the exhausted and panting mare plopped right back down, the short movement having used up what little of her energy had been restored. She flipped herself over onto her back to enjoy the sun’s rays while she waited for her strength to recovered and her cloak to dry. After a few moments of rest, Rarity sat up and with her hoof raised to shield her eyes, she looked around and took in her new surroundings.

Besides some seaweed and a couple of crabs scurrying about in the sand, the beach she suddenly found herself was empty. There were no ponies or other sapients around sunbathing on towels or playing in the ocean, no umbrellas set up for shade or coolers full of cool drinks and snacks. The only sounds were the crashing of waves and the screams of gulls up above. Out in the distance, Rarity could spot the rooftops of a sizable town maybe only a couple of hours or so away. It being a bit peculiar that she was the only one around considering the perfect weather and the beach’s proximity to a settlement was Rarity’s first thought before her muddled mind finished clearing and she remembered more pressing matters, namely that she had no idea as to how she got here.

Another attack of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, but after a few calming breaths, Rarity shook aside the panic and the accompanying dizziness. “Focus, Rarity,” she muttered to herself as she waited for her scrambling thoughts to slow down and for her most recent memories to stop being so fuzzy. She had been on a ship, that much Rarity knew, Brine Drinker’s ship, the Merry Landing, on a trip south to the port of New Tesaddledale. She could still recall her purpose, thank goodness, to find the schools of magic and learn about necromancy and how it could save her friends. That and all her memories of Baldursgait and everything before then all seemed intact, but none of that explained how or why she was at her current location.

Rarity went back to the start of their voyage, to the days that followed her goodbyes to Sir Gustford and Baldursgait. There wasn’t a whole lot to recall, just some attempts to befriend the other passengers that went largely nowhere, what with the crew members almost always busy and keeping to themselves and those she shared a cabin with either too grumpy or too shy to hold much of a conversation, at least at first. The captain would come down regularly for the first few days to check up on her and make sure everything was well, but Brine never stayed long, and Rarity figured it was out of obligation and fear of whatever Gustford had threatened.

She remembered the first week as just trying to get used to it all, to the cramped and stuffy room, to the cold nights and uncomfortable sleeping conditions, the constant and disorienting rocking, the lack of sun and fresh air as the stormy weather discouraged venturing up to the ship’s main deck, the groaning coming from the old stallion suffering from seasickness in the hammock across from her. Then there were the meals which varied from mediocre to downright horrendous, with breakfasts of bland porridge and dried seaweed and maybe some preserved fruits and evenings capping off with a sickly looking stew made of half a dozen secret ingredients followed by a long line to the restroom, all accompanied by biscuits hard as rocks and stale water flavored with salt and lemon and prepared by an ancient mare with a lazy eye and questionable hygiene. And then figuring out the toilet itself which consisted of a hole in the floor with a cover and no seat or flushing mechanism was a whole other challenge, especially for a mare like Rarity. At least there was a door that provided some privacy, though she could have done without all the impatient knocking and demands for her to hurry up coming from the other side.

Worst of all was the boredom. In all their preparations, neither she nor Gustford had bothered to pack anything for her to occupy herself with, and she wasn’t sure if even Pinkie Pie with all of her inventiveness and knack for fun could have come up with a game involving a lodestone, a tinderbox, and a knife. Rarity did still have the sewing kit from Elder Woods, but there was only enough thread and cloth to repair light tears and patch up small holes, not even enough to attempt a doll’s dress, and Rarity hadn’t become so desperate that she would deliberately damage her own clothing just so she’d have something to do. Even her own imagination had started to fail her, with her daydreams becoming more and more mundane, and despite recognizing the possible dangers, she had even considered experimenting with the symbol of power the Queen of Fey had bestowed upon her, if only to contact the mysterious being themself and having some creature else to talk to.

Then came the second week, and with it came the sun. The storm had passed, and the waves no longer battered and rocked the ship as intensely, giving those down below a chance to finally walk around the main deck and stretch out those sea legs. Rarity could remember how wonderful the sun felt against her face, how refreshing the sea air had been to breath in, and how beautiful the clear blue ocean before her eyes was.

That week was also the week that Bluestockings returned Rarity’s morning salutation not with her usual nod but with a small smile and a shy “G-good morning.” It had been a small step, but it was a start that as the days continued blossomed into fully engaging conversations about her work as an archivist, her life in Candelkeep, and complaints about her boss, Professor Don Pedagogue. And books, oh how the mare’s eyes would light up whenever she could lead their discussion to the topic of the literature she had come across, like the cargo they were currently ferrying and what was in all the crates that took up about a quarter of their cabin. Personal journals from famed mages and biographical accounts of accomplished wizards, research on experimental spells and recipes for untested magic potions, notes on mystical artifacts and beasts, anything that the southern schools of magic might have found of interest was taken from Candelkeep’s shelves in the light of the Squid Wizard’s rumored movement, Bluestockings had eventually explained to Rarity, and from there Rarity learned what she could of the schools themselves.

There were eight schools in total, one for each category of magic. Each was led by a headmaster, chosen through rites unique to their respective schools, and together the headmasters formed a council that directed their collective interactions with the outside world. Really, the schools apparently had enough land, resources, and populace to run as an autonomous nation, making it much more than the Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns equivalent that Rarity had initially assumed, and largely kept themselves isolated from the rest of the world. Now that wasn’t to say commerce between the schools and outsiders and the acceptance of visitors wasn’t unheard of, and every so often a student from the schools would make a lasting mark in the annals of world history, but details on their inner workings remained admittedly scarce. Not even Candelkeep had many records on the subject, and of the eight schools, Bluestockings could only name four, enchantment, divination, illusion, transmutation, though when Rarity mentioned necromancy the archivist did say that the term sounded somewhat familiar. Where she had heard or read about subject, however, Bluestockings couldn’t recall, and she had to admit that magic had never really interested her as a topic. Professor Pedagogue would have most likely known more as according to Bluestockings he was an actual scholar whose life work had been on the study of wizards, but the grumpy old stallion stayed old and grumpy and gave Rarity no opportunities or openings no matter what flatteries she tried on him.

Having somepony to talk to helped move time along, even if the usefulness of Bluestockings’s knowledge was somewhat limited, and the days quickly blurred by. The weather had become sporadic, with skies clear as crystal one morning, then pouring rain and thunder and lightning with waves nearly powerful enough to knock her off her feet the very next. She remembered noticing a strange mood had fallen over the crew and there being an uncharacteristic silence in the mess hall during meals. The rowdy yells and laughs had been replaced with hushed whispers about sightings of large shadows underneath the waves. Even on days with nice weather, when Rarity could climb up and bask in the sun, there was an air of nervousness and unease on the main deck, with a number of watchful sailors pointing loaded crossbows and harpoons at the sea. An additional pair of arbalests the size of multiple adult ponies had been set up, one for each side of the ship, with ammunition as thick as Rarity’s entire leg placed easily within the reach of their vigilant operators.

The tension she had observed of the crew had also put Rarity on edge, and Brine Drinker’s assurances that there was really nothing to worry about and that it was all just excitement over the rumored dangers of the south seas being apparently exaggerated and the journey approaching its end did little to relax her. Still, as the week passed, Rarity had noted nothing else out of the ordinary and certainly nothing that would have required all that heightened security. The only thing noteworthy that had happened was an announcement during supper one evening, when Brine stood up in front of the gathered creatures and to their cheers he announced that they had spotted New Tesaddledale and would be arriving the next day.

Rarity closed her eyes as she tried to recall her last night aboard the Merry Landing. There, yes, there had been a celebration following the captain’s announcement, and they had rolled out a barrel of some sweet, syrupy drink that had left her feeling light-headed after a single cup. She remembered leaving early, making her way to the guest cabin, her steps unsteady as she swayed with the waves, crawling into her hanging bed, shutting her eyes, falling asleep, and, and—

Tumbling out of her hammock and waking up to the impact of her face against the floor, fighting to stand up as the ship lurch back and forth violently, her ears flattening at the harsh sounds of shoutings and the splintering of wood, her grogginess disappearing at the sensation of water against her hooves. Rarity’s eyes flew open. The beach was gone, and she had returned to that cabin, alone, rushing to get dressed. She hurried out, doing her best to avoid the growing puddles as she stepped into the hall and was greeted by a loud and passionate discussion between Professor Pedagogue and Brine Drinker.

“—don’t care! We paid you good money to carry this cargo, darn it all. Don’t you dare touch—“

“If we don’t get rid of all the excess weight, you won’t live to complain! We’ve already jettisoned the foodstuffs. Your blasted books are all that’s left.“

“I don’t want to hear it! Those books are worth more than this entire ship and your crew combined. Do your darn job, you—“

“Professor, please calm down,” Bluestockings was pleading while a couple of sailors carrying wooden boards and tools watched and waited for them to move out of their way. All attention shifted to Rarity as the sound of her steps announced her approach.

“What’s going on?” Rarity asked, turning to each of them for answers. Her gaze quickly settled on Brine Drinker who wipe some moisture from his face and tried to smile.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good, good,” the hippogriff said with a shaky nod. “Um, yeah, we’ve got a bit of a, a situation, yeah?” He motioned to the waiting crew members and stepped to the side to make room for them to move by. “Got some leaks, taking on a bit of water, but don’t worry. We’ll have everything under control soon.”

The entire ship suddenly tilted to the side, sending everyone against the wall for a good number of seconds before the vessel righted itself. Screams could be heard coming from the main deck. “Under control my foot,” Pedagogue grumbled as his assistant helped him up. “And you put those down!” the old stallion yelled at a group of sailors who were bringing up boxes from the hold below. “Don’t you dare think of—“

He stumbled forward, fighting the boat’s erratic movement as he continued to shout. Bluestockings went after him immediately after she got her balance back, but Brine hesitated before turning to Rarity. “Okay, uh. You, go to my quarters. It’s that room right next to the steering, on the, with the door and, you know what I’m talking about, yeah?”

“I—“

“Good, good. You’ll be safer up there,” Brine Drinker exclaimed, pointing her toward the stairway that led to the main deck before he ran off and threw himself into the escalating argument between his crew mates and Pedagogue. The ship shook again, spurring Rarity out of her confused stupor and into a dash in the direction Brine had given her. Up the stairs she went, fighting to keep her footing as the ship continued to sway until she had successfully stepped onto the deck above, noisy with screams, shouts, and the crashing of waves, and beheld the scene that awaited her.

The light of so many lanterns cut through the night’s darkness, several which were pointed at the ship’s main mast. It took Rarity a few moments to look past the mob of bodies in the way before she saw the massive tentacle that was wrapped around the length of the post and ran over the ship’s side and into the ocean. Additional tendrils slithered aboard, creating cracks in the wood as they tightened around the Merry Landing. Brine’s crew descended upon the lengthy appendages as some hacked away at them with hatchets and knives while others armed with crossbows fired their bolts into the waves, at the owner of the tentacles hidden beneath them.

A deep, gargled howl from below drowned out all other sounds as one of the tentacles was cut free. The whole ship jerked, sending Rarity forward and into a passing griffon. “Watch it!” they exclaimed before hurrying on. Less than a second later, another creature bumped into her back as they charged by.

“Get out of the way,” they growled, and as several others followed with lanterns and blades in their hooves and claws, Rarity quickly moved to the side, giving them plenty of room to pass. A path to Brine’s personal cabin eventually opened to her, but with how much the ship was rocking about, the few yards between her and that shelter might as well have been miles. The crew’s battle against the tentacled beast continued around her with no end in sight as the tentacles started fighting back by shaking off their attackers and flinging them away, and Rarity turned instead to the stairs she had just climbed. She wasn’t sure what Brine Drinker was thinking, sending her up here. Surely it would have been safer to remain below deck. She started back to the stairway.

There was another guttural wail as the the center mast was suddenly released. Rarity moved as the ship moved, but when the ship stopped pitching forward she kept going, all the way to the boat’s edge into the embrace of the waiting sea. Who knew if any creature heard her screams over the winds and the sea monster’s howls before that mighty wave finished sweeping over her, silencing her and dragging her overboard. The world around Rarity started to spin, robbing her of her sight, her breath, and all sense of direction as she plunged into the chilling darkness. Then came the panicked struggling, the frantic attempts to swim up and her growing desperation as her energy ran out, the Queen of Fey suddenly appearing, the fading. Suddenly, Rarity was back on the beach, alone, her cloak becoming crusty with sand as it finished drying.

She looked to the sea and squinted against the glare of the sun as she scanned the waters for a ship. Hours must have passed already, considering the sun’s current position, and yet maybe, maybe she hoped...no. There was no sign of the Merry Landing to be found or of any vessel for that matter. The sea was deserted, and Rarity’s spirits threatened to sink to its deepest depth.

She stood up and forcefully turned her focus away from agonizing on the Merry Landing’s potential fate and instead to her own predicament. She didn’t see any pieces of a wreckage in the water, and there weren’t any broken wooden boards or the like littering the sands around her, so perhaps the ship managed to get away safely. Hope still existed for Brine Drinker, his crew, and his remaining passengers, less so for Rarity if she didn’t figure out where she was and what she was going to do next.

Determining how she ended up here in the first place was a decent start. She supposed heading over to those buildings she had spotted would be a pretty good second step. She could work with the locals there to get a better idea of her current location. Brine Drinker did said that New Tesaddledale had been relatively close, maybe that was the city over there. And if not, well, Rarity could only assume she was now in the southern lands. Hopefully, she’d be able to find passage to the schools of magic from there, or at the very least she’d be able to resupply and find some place to take shelter while she adjusted her plan accordingly.

Speaking of supplies, it would probably be wise to take inventory so she knew what she had to work with right now. First was the silver symbol from the Queen of Fey which thankfully remained secured around her neck, and as she held up the pendant, Rarity recalled the burning she had felt and the appearance of the Queen of Fey themselves. Had it just been a dream, a hallucination created by her subconscious as her mind was shutting down? She brought the pendant closer as if a more thorough examination would reveal the truth.

”That’s two. You get one more. Make it count.”

Echoing laughter followed the Queen of Fey’s voice. Rarity glanced around, but nothing had changed; she was still the only being on the beach. Shivering, she tucked the silver symbol back under her cloak and started to dig through her cloak’s pockets, continuing her assessment of her belongings. In them, Rarity found her coin purse and her sack of diamonds, the contents of both being perfectly fine, much to her relief. There was only one dagger with them, however, and no matter how hard she rummaged, she could not make the one that Gustford had bought her appear. Her medical kit and healing potions, those extra rations, tinderbox, rope, every that had been in her saddlebags was back on the ship. The ugly bronze anklet Gustford had insisted on getting her remained around her foreleg, however, as she must have forgotten to remove it before going to bed, but the same could not be said about her new dress and hat.

Rarity’s shoulders slumped at the realization. All that preparing, the gold they spent, those hours in the market searching for bargains and the effort put into haggling down prices, it had all gone to waste.

All the more reason to head into town, Rarity supposed as she patted her cheeks and shook herself out of her growing pessimism. She still had the funds to buy new supplies with, that was something to be grateful for at least. She tucked everything back into her cloak, and after a few quick stretches, she started crossing the yellow plains on her way to the city in the distance.

Trudging through all that sand wasn’t easy, and the lack of a proper road made travel all the more difficult. As she got further and further away from the sea and its cooling breeze, the sun’s warm, gentle caress became a smothering weight that left her sweltering and sweating. By the end of her first hour, Rarity couldn’t help but pant, and her mouth and throat were as arid as the land and air around her. Longing thoughts of her canteens full of water that were back on the ship with the rest of her unavailable supplies worsened her thirst, and the lack of companions or any interesting scenery meant that the only other thing she had to occupy her mind with was the discouraging observation that those structures she had been marching toward appeared no closer than when she started.

Rarity continued on, with sweat dripping from her brow and the sun beating down on her back. Her pace had slowed, but she kept it steady, and eventually her perseverance rewarded her with the sightings of a few palm trees and a bit more of the buildings ahead. A little later and now she could see the town’s entrance. The sounds of life, of bustling traffic and vibrant chatter, could soon be heard coming from that collection of tall beige buildings, fueling the motion of her legs as the noise grew louder and the buildings became larger with each step forward.

At last, an exhausted Rarity arrived to find the place as busy as its clamor had suggested. She had barely taken five step into the city before she found herself facing a huge crowd of creatures. Most were minotaurs of various shapes, colors, and statures, including a number of hornless, buxom specimens Rarity could only assume were females that were no less muscular or shirtless than their male counterparts. Bipedal felines, many of whom Rarity noted were shaved, and tall, slender horses like those from Saddle Arabia with coats of muted light colors made up the population’s other half. Colorful banners cascaded off the sides of buildings and canopied stalls flanked the streets as their owners fought for the attention of passing pedestrians.

“Spices! Spices for sale! Perfect for curry, soup, whatever!”

“Hey, you! Yes, you. You are an adventurer, are you not? Heading to the old tomb, I bet. You will be wanting one of my maps.”

“Friends, come and see what curatives I have in store for you. Bad joints? Bad breath? Bad luck? It matters not what ails you, these potions will fix you right up. Straight from the schools of magic themselves, I swear!”

“Blessings! Fortunes! Savras knows all, sees all, for a price of course.”

“This is the only place where you will find eastern silk of this quality, and this is the last day to get it. Buy some, while my supply lasts!”

“Scrolls! Books! Magic items! If you are thinking of dabbling in the arcane arts, do not walk away before seeing what I have.”

“Fresh watermelons! Perfect for such a day, yes? Come and get them here!”

The mention of melons caused Rarity to stop and turn as she was reminded of the dryness of her throat. The last time she had had anything to eat must have been several hours ago, so she could used something to fill her belly as well. Rarity fought her way through the crowd, keeping an ear up for the cries of the melon merchant and a hoof over the front of her cloak to dissuade any potential thieves until she reached a cart parked within the shade of a large parasol. Leaned against the cart was an upright feline lazily cooling himself with a paper fan as he continued to call for customers. Like many of the other cat folks Rarity had seen around here, his fur had been removed, leaving his body naked to the skin save for the thin cloth vest he wore, a brush of fur on his head that ran from the tip of his forehead to the back of his neck, a bit like the crest of a Canterlot guard’s helmet, and a wispy tuff of hair under his chin.

The wagon was laden with the melons the cat had been advertising, all nicely round and plump. There were a few already split into sections sitting on a cutting board and next to a giant cleaver, their bright red innards exposed and on full display, in contrast with the greens of their outer skin. Rarity’s mouth would have watered at the sight of the fruit glistering with juice had she the saliva to spare.

The cat smiled when he noticed Rarity’s approach. “Ah, here for my melons, miss? A fine decision, especially in this weather, am I right?” He chuckled. “Full melons are sold by the pound, but if you are just looking for a quick snack, that can be arranged.” He gestured to the wedges on the wooden board.

Rarity pointed to one of the smaller pieces. “Could I get half of that one, please?”

“Certainly, for a couple of shekels. Or, ah.” The cat tilted his head at Rarity as he stared and hummed. “You are from, the north, yes? From Spiketopia?” Rarity nodded. “And you have gold and silver?” She nodded again. “Excellent! Let me see your silver.”

Rarity took out a silver coin and deposited it in the cat’s outstretched paw. He pulled the coin close and took some time to examine it carefully, bringing it right to his eye and holding it up so that the sun’s light would bounce off its shiny surface. Finally, he gave Rarity a satisfied nod. “It is good silver,” he said. “A little light but still good quality. Two more will get you your melon.”

Two additional silver pieces joined the first. The cat picked up the oversized knife and slammed it straight through the piece of melon that Rarity had requested, splitting it in half with a single, startling cleave. “Here you are, miss,” he said, holding the still large but now manageable melon slice to Rarity with one paw, and with another he wiped the knife’s blade. “Enjoy.”

Rarity nodded her thanks before taking a small bite out of the melon. Water flooded her mouth before she had even finished her first chew, bringing some much needed moisture to her dry mouth and throat while coating her tongue with a mildly sweet flavor. Her next few bites were far less ladylike, and pretty soon droplets of pink juice started to dribble from her lips and her cheeks became stuffed with seeds.

“Um, excuse me,” Rarity said to the melon merchant through the side of her mouth as she tried to keep all the seeds on the other side, “do you have a trash can or a bag?”

The cat stared at her with a cocked eyebrow before gesturing first to the ground then to the side where two minotaurs stood in the shade of a nearby building devouring their own melons. A sizable pile of black seeds and green skins was growing steadily at the base of their cloven hooves with each bite they finished.

“Ah.” A couple of seeds escaped as Rarity’s mouth opened slightly out of disgust and disbelief over the implied suggestion. She looked around, and when she couldn’t find any other options, Rarity took another big bite of watermelon and used the liquid to force the accumulated seeds down her gullet. It wasn’t a painless process nor was it all that elegant, but in her opinion, it was a far cry better than spitting in public.

The cat’s expression went from confusion to bemusement. “You are not thinking of doing the same with the rind, are you miss?” he asked with a chuckle. “No, you can just toss it on the ground when you’re done. They will be letting the pigs out later anyways.”

Rarity did exactly that once she had finished, leaving the leftover skin she couldn’t eat in the sand with a bunch of other discarded rinds and pieces of fallen fruit. She dabbed away the juice still on her lips and turned to the noisy street behind her. “Is it normally this crowded?” she asked.

“But of course. The free market bazaar comes but once every thirty moons,” the feline folk answered. “Cowdim-La is a modest little place, so this, this is nothing. You should see how bad it gets in Al-Qarein.”

“I see. Are you a local to, you called this town Cowdim-La?” The name felt odd coming off Rarity’s tongue

“Oh, no, not exactly,” the cat said with a shake of his head. “My home, my farm, it is at a village that is perhaps half a day of travel from here, miss. I am simply here to be part in the festivities and take advantage of the relaxed market regulations. But the way I see you devour my melon, you would not have been able to tell it was an inferior product, eh?” He threw his head back and laughed. “I kid, miss, I kid. My melons are good melons, even if I have no papers to prove it.”

“Then, are you familiar with this area?” Rarity inquired. “I’m looking for a way to get to the schools of magic, and it’s a matter of great urgency.”

“Ah, the famous schools of magic,” the cat said, stroking at his little beard. He gave Rarity a small, sad smile. “I am afraid I cannot help you there, miss. I have no experience in the dealings of magus. My expertise lies in my melons, and I am afraid you have already taken too much of my time away from them. I would be more than happy to sell you another slice, otherwise you best look elsewhere.”

Rarity followed the cat’s paw toward the crush of bodies before them. “Would you happen to know if there is any creature in town that could help me in this regard? Anyone who would know more about the schools and how to get there, perhaps?”

The cat shrugged. “It is the free market bazaar, miss. Everyone is selling just about everything. Speaking of which, melons! Come for the freshest, juiciest watermelons around! Perfect for a day like today, no? Come and get your melons here!”

The farmer continued to add his claims to the din, his voice fighting against those of all the other merchants for airspace as Rarity took a deep breath and plunged into the tumultuous street and became one with the crowd.

27. Bane of the Tradeways

Bane of the Tradeways

After a bit of wandering, Rarity discovered that Cowdim-La‘s structure was similar to that of the town of Horshire, with one main road running straight through the city and the buildings lined neatly against the road’s edge. There was a number of streets that branched off the main road which were also surrounded by buildings, but none of them really appeared to lead anywhere and just seemed to form oversized alleyways.

Despite the straightforward layout of Cowdim-La, Rarity‘s search as she made her way through the city was a struggle. Fighting against the disorganized crowd was hard enough, especially when most of the bodies were nearly twice her height, but with all of stall owners trying to shout over one another around her, it was a wonder that any creature could find anything. Every time she thought she heard mention of the schools of magic and tried to focus in on the source, the extolling exclamations of a kitchen knife collection or imported silverware would ring out and cause her to lose track of her sought out advert. She must have just gotten lucky with finding that melon farmer earlier or maybe the cat had simply positioned his wares in a less populated section of the town.

The crowd definitely felt denser and area noisier the deeper Rarity got into the city, and there was no question that the merchants were becoming more grand and extravagant in their advertising. She saw entire covered wagons, the kinds a pony could comfortably live in, painted with images of the products in store, and some of the shopkeepers had primitive style megaphones to escalated their shouting match with their neighbors and firecrackers to drown out their competitors’ claims and their customers’ thoughts. The shoppers themselves were almost just as rowdy, and the lack of obvious security worried Rarity as she witnessed tempers flare and fights threaten to break out over bad deals and who grabbed what first. Rather than continue following traffic to who knew where, she managed to step out of the packed street and instead headed over to the merchant stands on the side of the road. Rarity did have to buy new supplies to replace everything that had been left on the ship, so she might as well ask around for information while she made her purchases.

She bought some sturdy saddlebags for one gold coin at this stall before getting a portable bedroll from a stallion for just five silvers and a flirtatious smile. A decently sized canteen came next along with some directions to the nearest well, then some dehydrated travel mix as she fought to ignore the beautiful muslin shawls and gem encrusted earrings at the stalls next to and across from her. She bought a falafel wrap that was exchanged for a paint set that had been requested by a turquoise jeweler who then pointed her to a stall on the other side of the city’s main road that sold bags of iron fillings and bat guano where she learned of a group of young aspiring magic students who, once Rarity had gotten them an old book covered in reptilian scales that costed her ten gold coins and the settlement of whether the wife of bookseller’s new hat made her look fat, told her of a small caravan of traders that was planning a trip to the schools of magic.

By the time she found the building that the traders were rumored to be staying at, the sky above had started to turn red and the first few stars of the night could be spotted. The hot, dry day air had cooled to a chilly evening breeze that incited a shiver out of her. Many of the stalls now had lanterns set up and ready, and there was no sign of the crowd dispersing despite the growing lateness. She could appreciate a good shopping spree, but Rarity was honestly starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all the fanatic, nonstop commerce around her, and even as night approached, it didn’t look like it would be slowing down anytime soon. She stepped into the inn and discovered it to be just as packed and crazy as the streets outside, with nearly every inch of the front lobby occupied. Minotaurs, cat folk, and those Saddle Arabian style ponies mingled tightly around tables and against the dull dirty tan walls and even on the stairs leading to the next floor of the building, laughing and shouting while they drank and ate roasted vegetables and mushrooms off of sticks. With that huge mob in her way, she could barely make out the serving counter in the the room’s center, surrounding a large square column.

After some maneuvering, Rarity managed to squeeze through the room and make her way before the center countertop only to discover the extra challenge of flagging down a busy server working on the other side of a counter meant for creatures larger than herself. Her smaller frame made it difficult for her to be seen, and as she reached up and waved and tried to shout over all the other patrons, Rarity felt like a foal again, struggling to get the attention of grownups. Her efforts were eventually noticed by a haggard lady minotaur wearing a dirty apron and a red bandanna around her forehead that matched her pink hide. She carried a massive mug almost the size of Rarity’s head in each of her hand.

“What is it, kid?” The minotaur’s voice was surprisingly deep, almost as masculine as the males of her race. “You lose your mommy and poppy or something?”

Now Rarity was really feeling like a child. “No,” she replied, not even attempting to hide her irritation, “and I haven’t needed their accompaniment in my travels for quite some years now.”

“Oh? Oh! You‘re a, ah, one of them, uh.”

“A pony, yes.”

“Right, right. Pony. One second.” The server slid the mugs down the length of the counter and into the waiting hands of a minotaur customer. “So, what‘ll it be? Got some nice fruit juices and smoothies, freshly squeezed. There’s some coconut water too, if you’re saving your shekels for something or ended up blowing your budget on the bazaar already. Gonna have to wait on the kebabs for a bit, though, maybe five or so minutes,” the server added with a motion toward the column behind her. Her attention having been drawn to it, Rarity could just spot the bright red glow of a grill. It did feel much warmer here, and Rarity noticed that the server’s bandanna was wet with sweat. “Oh, and we‘re out of rooms for the night, if in case you were looking for lodging. For the whole week, really. If you can find room on the floor, you’re welcome to stay, but I can’t even guarantee that.”

“Ah.” It was disappointing to learn, Rarity had hoped to find a place to stay the night when she learned that this place was an inn, preferably one with an actual mattress after sleeping in a hammock for so long, but that had only been a potential bonus, not a reason, for her being here. “Well, that’s alright. I’m actually just looking for someone who is staying here. A caravan owner heading to the schools of magic. Would you happen to know where he is right now? Oh, and what’s on the kebab and how much for one?”

“Kebabs are roasted green, red, and banana peppers, pineapple, mushroom, and onion, all seasoned with herbs. One for a shekel.”

Rarity pulled out a couple of silver coins and placed them on the counter above. “Will this enough?” she asked and watched as the minotaur barmaid picked up the coins and weighed them in her palm.

“Let’s throw in some coconut water while we’re at it.” The minotaur grabbed a cup from behind the counter and brought it to the spout of a large keg behind her. “Here you are,” she said, placing the large, heavy cup into Rarity’s extended hooves. “Enjoy. I’ll call you over once your kebab’s ready. You’ve got a name?”

Rarity took a second before deciding that it was probably safer if she just used her real name. She didn’t think the name Shmarity would mean much here, outside of the princess’s kingdom, but who could say for sure? Besides, she missed going by her true moniker, and it was amazing what difference a single syllable made.

“Rarity. And the caravan owner?”

“Hm? Oh, right. The one headed to the schools of magic, right? You know his name? What he looks like? Race?”

Rarity shook her head. “Just that he supposedly has a room here, I’m afraid.”

The minotaur shrugged. “Can’t really help you then. We can check the guestbook when there’s time and see if there’s anything in there, but we’re kinda busy at the moment. Maybe ask around or something.”

“Alright then. Thank you,” Rarity started to say, but the barmaid had already disappeared to serve another patron, leaving her to find the cleanest section of floor to sit on, and with her back against the counter, she awkwardly attempted to drink from a cup that required both her hooves to hold. She had only managed to get a few sips in when there was a tap on her hind leg. The sudden contact surprised her, and her grip around her beverage loosened, causing the cup to fall and splash cool coconut water all over herself.

“Oh, oh dear. I am so sorry. I did not mean, I was just, oh no.”

The speaker was a mare in a multicolored scarf large enough to cover her neck along with much of her sky blue forehead. Strands of burgundy mane hair could be spotted peeking out from underneath the scarf. She continued to pile Rarity with apologies even as she pulled a handkerchief and gave it to Rarity to dry her face with. “It’s fine,” Rarity tried to assured her with a forced smile. “Really, it’s quite alright. I understand, it’s crowded, it’s noisy, that might not have been the best place for me to have been sitting. Accidents happen. Just, try to take more care.”

“You think I, oh! No, no. You were not in the way at all. I was just, I was trying to get your attention, but I was not sure what I should say or if you could even hear me and I did not want to appear rude or offensive or scare you away.”

A nervous giggle escaped the mare which did nothing to relieve Rarity’s growing suspicion toward her. “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely sure I’m following you. You, wanted my attention to? To talk? Or?” Rarity prompted with a gesture.

“Yes, talk! I, I am sorry, I just—“ The scarfed mare took a deep breath. “I could not help but overhear your conversation with that server. You are looking for a certain caravan, the one going to the schools of magic, correct?”

Slowly, Rarity nodded, and at Rarity’s silent, cautious response, the mare beamed. “Wonderful. I-I should have introduce myself first. I am called Alharir.” She bowed her head toward Rarity. ”My husband, Tariq, and I, I believe we were part of this trade caravan you are searching for. I can take you to our table to discuss matters further, if you would like. Only, ah.” Alharir’s smile faltered and fell to almost a frown. “I have gotten ahead of myself. Forgive me for asking so late, but I must know, what business do you have with us?”

Rarity considered the mare standing over her carefully. The mannerisms in her speech and body language were odd, maybe even suspect, but the emotions behind them, from her initial nervousness to her sudden excitement over Rarity’s simple nod to this current uncertainty as she waited for Rarity’s answer, all felt sincere. Still, Rarity hesitated before she finally said, “I’m on a trip to the schools of magic. I heard that your company was headed there as well and figured it would be safer to travel with a larger group.”

It wasn’t the entire truth, but this mare she had just met didn’t need to know that Rarity had no idea how to get to the schools to begin with. In any case, her answer seemed to please Alharir as her smile returned brighter than ever.

“Wonderful,” she said with an obvious sigh of relief. “That, that is absolutely wonderful.”

Rarity’s brow rose. “It, is?”

“Oh yes,” Alharir replied, her scarf starting to unravel as she nodded eagerly. “We, our caravan, we are not exactly open for business at the moment. It is, well, it is a bit of a long tale. Please, come with me, and my husband and I will explain our situation more fully.”

The mare motioned to follow her through the crowded room, and after a short second of deliberation, Rarity got up and did exactly that. Even with Alharir and her greater size leading the way, it still took them a good minute or so to get away from the center bar and reach the table near the inn’s corner. There sat a salmon colored stallion, his puffy cloth headdress crooked as he held his head in between his hooves. He wore a deep frown, and his brow was furrowed as he studied a large sheet of parchment that was stretched before him, its corners held down by one of those mugs, a knife, and a pocket notebook. He failed to notice Alharir and Rarity until they had gotten right up to the table, and when he did finally raise his head and glance up, his eyes didn’t seem to register Rarity’s presence.

“So did you get anything to eat?” the stallion asked, his tired tone making it all the more difficult to hear him over the rest of the noisy inn.

Alharir tapped her forehead and rolled her eyes. “No, I forgot. I was distracted.”

The stallion blinked. “You were, distracted?”

“Yes.” Alharir set a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder and drew the stallion’s attention to her. “This mare, she was looking for our company in the hopes of joining us on our way to the schools of magic.”

The stallion stared down at Rarity. His face was largely unreadable, and his lack of reaction stood in stark contrast when compared to Alharir’s enthusiasm. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Rarity said a little more tersely than she wanted. “As I’ve told your partner, I was on my way to the schools when I heard of your caravan. I understand that there are, issues at the moment. Would it still be possible for me to travel with your group?”

“But of course!” Alharir answered excitedly. “Now that you are here with us, we can continue on our journey. Is that not wonderful, dear?” Her radiant smile faded slightly as the silence from the stallion stretched on. “Dear, is something wrong? I thought you would be happier about this.”

“Hm?” The stallion shook himself and put on what might have the fakest smile Rarity had ever seen. “Oh, no. It is nothing. Just, tired is all.” He picked up the mug and held it toward Alharir. “Would you mind getting me a refill while I become acquainted with...” He turned to Rarity.

“Rarity.”

“Madam Rarity,” he addressed with a bow of his head before returning to Alharir. “And could you see about getting us some of those kebabs while you are there?”

“Of course.” With a nod to the stallion and to Rarity, Alharir turned around and reentered the crowd. When she was gone, the stallion gestured to the space at the table directly in front of him.

“Please,” he said to Rarity. “Have a seat.”

She did so at first out of politeness, but the table was too tall for her, and she could barely see Alharir’s husband over its edge. She opted to stand instead, giving herself a better view of the stallion and the parchment on the table which turned out to be a map. It was highly detailed, with elaborate pictures of cities and landmarks like deserts and oases and mountains drawn out and clear next to their names.

The stallion cleared his throat and straightened his headdress. “I am call Tariq, and I see you already know my wife, Alharir. And you, like us, are trying to get to those famed schools of the magus.”

“Is this an issue?” Rarity inquired, the suspicion she had felt earlier returning. “I can’t help but agree with your partner. You don’t exactly seem pleased by this.”

Tariq opened his mouth, then closed it and sat back. “How much has Alharir told you about us?”

“Very little. She mentioned there being something of a long story and brought me here to better explain the details.”

“Ah. Then I should explain.” Tariq rubbed his hooves together and leaned forward. “Alharir and I are part of a collaborative company of traveling merchants. We were planning to go to the schools of magic, make a bit of business there, and get back to this region in time for the free market bazaar, but the out of season sandstorms and news of a rise in slaver raids delayed us severely. Our company arrived here in Cowdim-La far too late, and the bazaar had begun before we could acquire the magic items we had hoped to sell there.” He sighed and shook his head. “The caravan decided to split up, and everyone went to do their own thing. Some are cutting their losses and have decided to just go back home, others are trying to set up shop here and make what money they can. Alharir and I were lucky to even get a room here.”

“Then, you won’t be making the trip?” Rarity said, her words quiet with disappointment as her heart became heavy. Too quiet in fact, and she had to repeat herself so that Tariq could hear her over the guffaws of the patrons at the table beside theirs.

Tariq shrugged and made a face that was something like a reluctant or thoughtful wince. “Well, we are still trying to get to the schools, Alharir and I that is. You see, we have another reason for this trip, a personal reason. Our daughter, you see, our only child, is an apprentice studying at the school of transmutation, and we were hoping to celebrate her coming of age together while we were up there. We miss the date, unfortunately, but it would still be nice to see our dear Aibnatu regardless. It has been some years since we have seen each other face to face.” The merchant looked wistful for a moment before shaking himself out of it. “Er, anyways, as I was saying, we are still planning on going, and you are welcome to join us when we do set out if you so like—“

A plate of still steaming vegetables on sticks slid to the center of the table. They both looked to find that Alharir had returned. She placed a cup in front of Rarity. “For the drink that I split. I also picked your order up for you,” she added, pointing to the plate before helping herself to her own kebab. Tariq joined her shortly after, and Rarity, supposing that now was as good a time for a break as any other, took a sip from her new cup. She discovered that it contained not coconut water but a smooth, sweet, and tangy blend of mangoes and various citruses that went well with the bitter smokey taste of the charred veggies.

“So is everything explained?” Alharir asked after they had all swallowed a few bites. “Was there anything you do not quite understand, Madam Rarity?”

“Well, no. I don’t believe so. Tariq relayed everything to me quite clearly,” said Rarity. “He told me about what happened to your company, he talked about your daughter and your reasons for going to the schools, and if I’m not mistaken, he was just saying that I am welcome to come with you on your journey there.”

“And, you will, will you not?” Alharir asked, her smile wavering as she leaned forward in anticipation.

“I would be more than happy to,” Rarity replied. “And thank you, for having me.”

“Oh, no! We must be thanking you for joining us,” Alharir said as she grabbed hold of Rarity’s hoof and shook it vigorously. “It is probably too late to leave tonight, but will tomorrow be alright for you? We wish to go as soon as possible. That will not be a problem, will it?”

“I was not finished, dear,” Tariq suddenly interjected before Rarity could assure that tomorrow was perfectly fine with her. He gave Alharir a tired, frustrated look before returning his gaze to the smaller of the two mares. “You should know, I am not completely comfortable about us leaving at this time.”

Alharir shot her own glare at her husband. “You promised, Tariq. You promised, you said, if we could find one other creature to join us, we would leave immediately.”

“We need another bodyguard, not just another body,” Tariq grumbled. To Rarity, he said, “The journey through the Anauhock Desert to get to the schools can be a perilous one. There are bandits, sandstorms, monsters. We were not so worried when we were part of a large caravan, but now?” He shook his head. “I am of the mind that we should wait for the free market bazaar to finish. Right now every creature is too busy enjoying themselves, but once the celebrations are wrapped up, perhaps then we could find more creatures willing to travel with us or at the very least be able to hire a proper armed escort. Either that or we should just head home and start saving up for a new trip in the future.”

“And I am of the mind that it has been too long since we had last seen the face of our precious Aibnatu,” Alharir snapped. “We have missed so much of her life already. I cannot accept any further delays. You said we needed a group of five. We have the interest of those two mercenaries already, and, well.” She jabbed a hoof in Rarity’s direction. “There is your fifth.”

“Five minimum,” Tariq said as he placed his hoof onto his forehead. “And look at her.” He also pointed at Rarity. “She is no warrior, no adventurer. If we were to be attacked, what do you suppose would happen? I miss our daughter as much as you, but we must be reasonable.”

“Your caution is maddening,” Alharir huffed, folding her forelegs across her chest. “When did I marry such a coward? What happened to the stallion who fought off all those raiders time and time again? Or is that blade you keep in the carriage now just for show?”

Tariq sighed and wearily turned to Rarity. “I meant no offense to your appearance, Madam Rarity,” he said, “but surely you understand my position? Please, help me talk some sense into my wife. Surely, our journey can afford to wait a week if it means improving our safety.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Rarity said, holding up a hoof. “Did you say, a week? As in, we wouldn’t be leaving for the schools of magic for another seven whole days?”

Alharir snorted. “Seven days is being optimistic. That is just how much time is still left of the bazaar. Who knows how long the clean up after will take or if we would be able to find anyone to travel with during that time.”

Rarity frowned. She could understand Tariq’s worries, and his plan to wait for a less busy time did make sense. A larger group would certainly have more security, safety in numbers and all that, and yet, Rarity was finding Alharir’s impatience more relatable than Tariq’s calls for prudence. She had already spent three mind-numbing weeks at sea in preparation for this journey, she wasn’t sure she could stand waiting for one more to pass, even with all the stalls and shops around for her to explore. It would mean another week away from home, from her responsibilities, and from her friends and family as well as another postponement in the rescue of Spike and Discord, and no amount of shopping was going to be enough to make any of that go away.

Alharir and Tariq were staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. Rarity first turned to the mare, then to the stallion. “Well, you did promise her if you found a fifth,” she said with a slightly rueful, somewhat apologetic grin.

It took the two horses before Rarity a short moment to understand what she had just said, and when they had finished registering the implications of her words, their faces could not have look more different. Tariq’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open with evident shock as Alharir let out a loud triumphant laugh, her face split by the massive smile she had put on. She took Rarity’s hoof again and caused Rarity’s entire body shake with each forceful thanks.

Alharir eventually released Rarity and left her to massage her leg until it could feel again. Tariq, meanwhile, appeared to have gotten over his initial shock and now wore an expression of annoyance. He sighed, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he shook his head. “Please, do not encourage my wife and her recklessness. I ask that you rethink this carefully,” he pleaded to Rarity. “If we are to leave as we are now, we cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I understand that,” Rarity said, “but I must get to the schools of magic, and I don’t know if I myself can afford any more delays.” She gave Alharir a sympathetic nod before turning back to Tariq and continuing. “Rest assured, I am no stranger to danger, and despite what you may think of my appearance and stature, I can take care of myself.”

Tariq continued to frown as he looked over Rarity, taking the time to perform a slightly more thorough appraisal. “I do not know about this,” he said, clearly still unimpressed.

“Then you are welcome to stay here by yourself,” Alharir suddenly exclaimed, slamming her hooves against the table hard enough to briefly garner the attention of some of the other customers. “I will take Madam Rarity and those two mercenaries, and we will set off for the schools of magic tomorrow, with or without you.” The glare she shot Tariq was sharper than any sword, and Rarity found the resolve behind Alharir’s declaration frightening. “Do not test me, dear husband of mine.”

Tariq groaned at the presented ultimatum. “Alright, alright. There is no need for that sort of talk.” He turned to Rarity as if to place blame on her for this development, but he lacked the energy to hold the glare, and it swiftly withered away with an exhausted sigh. ”Well, at the very least, it will be good to have another set of eyes to keep watch. I will have to speak with the other two and let them know. If they are still interested, we will leave tomorrow, early evening.”

“Evening?” Rarity questioned. When Alharir didn’t protest but rather simply gave a content nod in agreement, she turned to the mare and gave her a quizzing look. “Are there still things we need to get done first?”

“No, not particularly,” Alharir said. “We already have all the supplies, rations, water, the like, but if there is anything you think we would need or you would like to buy before we leave Cowdim-La, I suppose then would be your chance.”

“The days will be too hot to travel for long periods of time,” Tariq explained, correctly interpreting Rarity’s confusion. “It is best if we move when the sun is down, when it is cooler, and rest when the sun is up.”

“Ah.” Made sense. Rarity’s trek here and the overwhelming heat that had beamed down on her during the entire way was still fresh on her mind. “I see. Will we be meeting outside of the city, or?”

Alharir and Tariq looked to each other. “Let us all meet here at the start of sunset,” Tariq eventually said. “We will set off then. Until then, rest up and put to rest any unfinished business you may still have here. Now, if you will pardon me.” The stallion got up, and to Rarity he bowed as he stowed away the map, the knife, and the notebook. “I must attend to and secure our wagon before I retire for the evening. Good night.”

Rarity returned the salutation with a bid of good night of her own before Tariq left the table to be shared by the two remaining mares. Alharir watched her spouse disappear into the crowd and sighed. “Tariq, he is a good stallion. Please, Madam Rarity, do not think less of him because of how he has acted. Or myself, for that matter.” She lowered her head embarrassed. “I am sorry for my outburst. I am usually not that dramatic, I promise you so.”

“It’s quite alright,” Rarity said. “Really, there’s no need to apologize. After all, it was your passion that changed your husband’s mind. As for your husband, I do understand his point. To be honest, I might have taken the same position had I been in his horseshoes.”

“I, I am sorry? His horse, shoes?”

“Oh. It’s a saying in Eque—, er, Spiketopia. It means to put yourself in the place of another and see the situation from their point of view to better understand their side. And I can understand wanting to ensure the safety of my loved ones”

“Ah. Yes, I understand now.” Alharir nodded and smiled. “Yes, Tariq, he is a very caring stallion, always has been, since the day we first met...”

The two swapped stories, Alharir and her tales about meeting a dashing young guard who had saved her purse from a thief and the grandiose and often disastrous gestures he’d make in an attempt to woo her while Rarity carefully picked and chose Princess Shamarity’s memories of life in Spiketopia to share along with some selective recaps of her time in Horshire and Baldursgait with just enough detail to keep her sole audience member entertained. Occasionally, as the night continued, Rarity’s guard would fall, and she would make small mentions of her life in Equestria, about her occupation as a seamstress, about her younger sister and the mischief she and her friends would get in, about a shy pegasus who could talk to animals and a merry mare who could find fun in just about anything. About a hard working and reliable farmer, a fast flying daredevil with an incredible competitive streak, a studious and some times awkward mare who had brought them all together.

About a young dragon and all the time he would devote to helping her. Rarity had trouble convincing Alharir of that last one.

Time marched on, and some hours later, Alharir excused herself from the table with a yawn, leaving Rarity to finish her drink and her cold kebab. After that and with there being nowhere else to go and little else to do, Rarity found herself some clean space on the floor, rolled out her brand new bedding, and joined the other room-less inn patrons. The floor’s hard surface and the cramped conditions that came from having so many strangers in one place, some of whom were loud snorers or were in desperate need of a bath, made it difficult to relax, but eventually, as the lights dimmed and the servers finished cleaning the bar, Rarity, with one hoof draped protectively over her belongings, drifted off to sleep.

28. By the Light of the Moon

By the Light of the Moon

Rarity was awoken by a kick in her side. Her attacker, a tired old mare, mumbled a terse apology while she finished her stretching and got up from the floor. Not wanting to start an argument over what was likely an accident, Rarity kept her commentary on the aged mare’s rudeness to herself as she rubbed the sore spot and looked around. The packed room from last night was now mostly empty, with only a couple of other guests still around cleaning up and getting ready for the day ahead. Sunlight streamed through the binds of the windows, suggesting that it was already mid to late morning. Thuds drew Rarity’s attention to the stairway, and she watched a couple of horses rush down and run out of the building, flooding the room with light and causing the few still inside to wince and groan.

Well now that she was good and awake, Rarity figured she’d might as well get up and make the most of her last day here. She got out of her bed roll and put it away after looking through her belongings to make sure they were all there. Her purse was still nice and heavy with coins, but even if it had been a little on the light side, she also still had all those diamonds, and so while Rarity couldn’t think of anything she needed to buy immediately off the top of her head, she could probably afford anything useful that managed to catch her eye as she wandered around.

With everything checked, packed, and ready, Rarity stepped out into the busy street. Already the road was stuffed with creatures crowding around shop stalls as their owners filled the air with calls. It was just more of the same from yesterday, but Rarity found being greeted by such a scene so early in the day, before she had even taken her first breath of fresh morning air, a little jarring. She took one last look at the inn and committed its appearance and its surroundings to memory so that she could find it later when it was time to meet up with Alharir and Tariq, then she stepped into the crowd.

Several hours later, Rarity had only managed to make a few purchases to add to what she had already bought yesterday, including a new, curved dagger to replace the one Sir Gustford had gotten her and a falafel wrap for lunch. She had considered buying some curatives just in case, but the apothecaries she passed either carried themselves with the same exaggerated showmanship that Rarity had seen the Flim and Flam brothers demonstrate in their schemes or only had simple and mundane items to sell like bandages and salves. In the end, Rarity only got some lotions for preventing and treating sunburns and a simple first aid kit.

The only other thing that had really grabbed Rarity’s attention while she was out were the stands selling headscarves like the one Alharir had worn. Other mares and some feline folks were also dressed in such attire, and they made up the crowds that Rarity had to push through to get a better look at the silky fabrics on display.

Despite her situation and the weight of all that was depending on her success, Rarity could only resist her fascination towards unique fashions for so long, especially what was from a distant and foreign land, and at this point she was really just killing time. Scarves were certainly a thing in Equestria, yes, but they were usually reserved for cold weather or on occasion as accessories, and they rarely extended beyond shoulder length. The ones here were long enough to wrap over a creature’s entire face, a style worn by some of the mares and cats that Rarity saw, but the material they were made of was thin enough that framing breath through the fabric wasn’t going to be an issue, and the vague shapes of the noses and mouths underneath added an alluring sense of mystery.

After a bit of studying and listening to the clothes peddlers, Rarity started to also see some practicality in the apparel and the way it was worn. Having the scarf over one’s head like that could provide protection from the sun, and it did seem light and airy enough that it wouldn’t get too stuffy to wear over time. Still, Rarity couldn’t quite justify buying her own headscarf when the hood of her cloak played the same sort of role and its heavier material was better suited for travel in the lower nighttime temperatures. The scarves she found for sale weren’t exactly cheap, and it didn’t feel right for Rarity to splurge simply to satiate her curiosity. Maybe she could come back once everything was taken care of, but for now, if she could find one for a good price, it would be as a ‘thank you’ gift for Alharir.

Before she could find anything suitable, however, the sky had darkened, and it was time to return to the inn. Rarity had to fight against the crowd as she hurried back to agreed meeting place. When she arrived, she found the room no less full than it had been the previous night, and Rarity needed a few minutes of searching before she spotted Alharir waving to her and sitting at a table with Tariq and a bearded stallion who Rarity did not recognize. As she approached the table, Rarity noticed that strapped to the newcomer’s side was a crossbow, and on his other side he had a sword with a short, curved blade. He wore a cloth over his head that was tied down by a headband with a scratched metal guard protecting his forehead.

“Madam Rarity,” Alharir greeted once she had gotten close. The mare grabbed Rarity’s hoof and shook it. “It is good to see you again. Have you eaten supper yet?”

“Er, no. Not yet.”

“That is alright.” Alharir gestured to the plates of flatbread, creamy dips, and oily olives on the table. “Please, join us.”

“Do not overeat,” Tariq said as Rarity took her place. “We will be setting off soon, so it would be best to keep it light.”

Rarity nodded to show that she understood. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a sealed jar. “I wasn’t sure if there was anything we still needed or would have liked to have had,” she said, “but I bought us some preserved jam.”

Alharir picked up the jar from the table and twisted off the lid. She broke a piece of bread, and after dipping it into the purple jelly, she ate it and grinned. “Thank you, Madam Rarity. It will certainly make our travel rations easier to stomach.”

Rarity smiled back. “You’re very welcome. And you can just call me Rarity, if you’d like.” She turned first to Tariq who gave a short nod of approval and then to the new stallion. “Hello,” she said. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rarity.”

“Biala Diyn,” the stallion responded with a little bow. A chain necklace tumbled out from beneath his tan tunic, its dull shine and the symbol of a crooked cane crossed over a whip attached to it catching Rarity’s eye. He wordlessly tucked it back under his collar and stared back at Rarity until she turned away.

“I believe there was supposed to be another guard?” Rarity said as she looked around and counted only four creatures at the table, herself included.

“That is correct,” Tariq said with a frown. “He should be here soon, I hope. He was extremely eager to leave this place with us, though I cannot say I found him all that reliable.” He reached over for a piece of bread and some dip and started to eat. Everypony else soon followed suit, making sure to keep the meal as modest as possible.

The meal swiftly concluded, leaving them with little to do but tap their hooves away as patiences slowly were worn thin. Every so often, some creature would barge their way into the inn, and they would all lift and turn their heads only for Rarity to watch as everypony else’s hopeful expressions turn to disappointment.

“Tariq,” Alharir began in a low voice, to which Tariq sighed.

“I do not know. He said he would be here.”

“Perhaps he got lost?” Rarity suggested. “Should we search for him?”

Tariq shook his head no. “He is a local to this city I believe. I doubt he would have—“

The door to the inn was flung open. “Sorry I’m late!” bellowed the large bluish minotaur bull at the threshold before he rushed inside and looked around. “Hey, you,” he said to a group of feline folk. “Have you seen a couple of horses? You know, two of them, one’s a guy, the other his girl? You see a group like that? Oh, wait.” He, seeing Tariq’s wave, waved back. “There they are. That’s them right there,” the minotaur declared loudly and proudly, and he strutted his way to their table.

When he arrived, the minotaur set his hands on his hips and puffed out his bare chest. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Every creature else here yet? Oh, hey! Food!”

As he grabbed at the leftovers and started shoveling them into his mouth, Rarity turned to Alharir and Tariq and gave them a look of concern. Alharir just smiled weakly while Tariq gestured to the group’s fifth and final member. “Madam Rarity, Ser Biala Diyn, this is—“ He sighed. “—the Grand and Mighty Steel Nerves, as he wishes to be called now.”

Alharir blinked. “I though he was to be called the Great and Powerful Steel Nerves.”

The minotaur let out a noisy belch and wiped his mouth. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed by his display of poor manners, if only for a couple of seconds. “Decided go with Grand and Mighty instead. More memorable, and I thought it rolls off the tongue better. Yep. It’s a name every creature everywhere is gonna know and sing about one day and one day soon.” His grin widened as he beamed. “So, you’re the lot I’m here to protect, eh? Well, don’t you worry about a thing. Nothing’s gonna happen to any of you while I’m around.”

The minotaur patted the club that hung from his belt. The stallion with the symbol around his neck rolled his eyes while Alharir continued to smile and shake her head. Tariq waited a few seconds and let the boisterous and boastful minotaur stew in his own hot air before clearing his throat and standing up. “Well then, if that is everything, let us be off.”

Everypony else did the same and got up from the table. “What, like right now?” Steel Nerves asked.

“Yes.” Tariq’s eyes narrowed. “Is that an issue?”

“Nah, of course not,” the minotaur said as he walked with Tariq at the head of the group. “Hey, if you ask me, the sooner we leave this place, the better. It was getting way too stuffy and boring around here, and I’m just itching to get started. Finally, it’s time to make a name for myself. Can’t wait to take on some bandit scumbags. Hey, just you wait and see, I’m gonna be worth every last shekel. You’re about to see a legend come to life, you hear me?”

The overly talkative and long-winded Steel Nerves continued on like this all the way to the stable where Alharir and Tariq’s covered wagon was parked and past the city’s border, and it was only once the light from Cowdim-La’s buildings were no longer in view did he finally run out of breath and become quiet. From there, Tariq and Alharir took the lead as they into the desert plains, pulling their wagon along behind them. A lit lantern was attached to the front of the carriage though it was largely unnecessary as the full moon and stars above provided them with ample light. Rarity found herself walking on one side of the wagon while the minotaur took the other and Biala Diyn brought up the rear.

A couple of hours or so later, the flat plains transitioned into rolling dunes, and the wagon came to a halt. “Hey, why’d we stop?” Steel Nerves demanded, walking over to the two horses driving the carriage. “We taking a break or something? Calling it a night?”

Tariq looked up from his map and the notebook that Alharir was holding for him to read. “We are finding a safe path to move the wagon,” he explained. “If we are not careful, the wheels of the wagon may become stuck in the sand, and it will take us time to dig them out. Please, if my wife and I could have a moment. This will not take long.” He went back to his map and notes and continued his whispered discussion with his partner.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Steel Nerves shuffled back to Rarity and Biala and raised his shoulders. Rarity responded with a small shrug of her own while the stallion just turned his back toward the both of them and unslung his crossbow. They stood there, waiting for about a minute as Steel made noises with his mouth, from wet smacks to long exhales to tuneless hums.

“So,” he eventually said, leaning his back against wagon. “So. Nice night, huh?”

It was indeed a nice night. There was not a cloud in the sky, leaving the stars and the moon to fully display their radiance. Princess Luna had outdone herself tonight, and the evening breeze was just perfect, not too strong but still cool enough to make one forget the blistering heat only hours before.

“It is,” Rarity said with a nod as she looked up to the night sky.

“Hey, keep your guard up,” Biala Diyn called out from his position.

“Right, right,” grunted Steel Nerves. He got off the wagon, but only seconds later his back was back against it. “I’m Steel Nerves, by the way, the Grand and Mighty Steel Nerves. Don’t know if I told you all that yet.”

“Oh, you have,” Rarity said steadily and with as neutral an expression as possible while Biala hid a snort.

“Yeah. You know, I’m think of dropping the whole ‘Grand and Mighty’ part though. It’s a bit of a mouthful now that I think about it. Plus, it’ll be really awkward to say it all once I get a real title to add on.” Steel scratched his fuzzy chin thoughtfully. “Hey, speaking of names, I don’t think I ever got yours.” He pointed at the two equines before him. “Not that it’s all that important, I just figured it’d be nice to call you something other than ‘you’ or whatever.”

“I’m Rarity. Tariq introduced us back at the inn,” Rarity said with a frown.

“Did he? Huh, don’t remember. Ah well, must have missed that.” Steel Nerves waved his hand dismissively before turning to Biala. “What about you? You got a name?”

The stallion let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Biala Diyn. Now quiet. I am trying to do my job. Perhaps you should do the same.”

“Fine, fine. Yeesh.” He looked to Rarity. “A bit nervous, that one,” he said to her in a whisper loud enough that caused Rarity to wonder why he even bothered. “What’s his problem?”

Before either Rarity or Biala could respond, Tariq called out from up front and announced, “Alright. Our path is set. We are ready to move.”

They all got back into position around the wagon and started to slowly cross through the sandy hills. Alharir had detached herself from the carriage, leaving Tariq to pull it by himself while she walked in front and directed them, and Rarity’s offer to assist Tariq was rejected with the reason that Rarity would be of more use guarding the wagon’s left side. As they continued on through the desert, hours long into the night, Rarity’s hooves were beginning to feel heavy, and each step was requiring much more effort out of her to pulled her hoof out of the sands. The air turned cold, worsening the ache in her limbs, and even underneath her thick cloak, Rarity started to shiver. On and on they trudged, with nothing but the infinite starry sky above and the equally endless dunes around them. No one spoke a word, not even Steel Nerves though he made sure his presence was audible with his heavy breathing and a grunt or snort at the end of every couple of minutes. The occasion howl of some distant beast carried to them by the wind broke the silence and the monotony, which caused the group to pause and every heart to skip a beat, but the moment would pass, and they would continue on.

Despite everything, however, Rarity still much preferred her current journey over her more relaxed and less physically demanding trip from Candelkeep to Baldursgait. The semi-paved road between the scholars’ fort and the city of danger may have been easier on her hooves, and the temperate coastal climate certainly beat the cold, dry air she was currently facing, but at least now she wasn’t struggling all alone. Even if no creature said anything or had expressed any hint of camaraderie, just knowing that there were others here with her made all the difference.

A red glow covered the skies as the sun peeked over the bumpy horizon. Red soon lightened to orange, and a few minutes later, the wagon stopped.

“Alright, we will have to stop here for the day,” Tariq declared. With some assistance from Alharir, he removed himself from the wagon’s yoke and took a swig from a flask while everyone else stretching their tired and groaning limbs. A canopy was extended from the carriage’s roof to provide shade, and they all took their seats on a rug as portions of unleavened bread and sticks of grounded up and dried vegetables were passed around and canteens were refilled with water from the jugs in the wagon.

“Pardon me,” Rarity said to Alharir and Tariq as the meal neared its end, “but I’ve been meaning to ask, when do you suppose we will reach our destination?”

Tariq thought for a moment before answering. “If we do not encounter any additional difficulties along the way, it may take us another four to five days of travel before we get to the schools of magic,” he said.

Rarity nodded her acknowledgement. “I see.”

“Anyone here ever been to the schools before?” Steel Nerves asked as he picked at his teeth with his finger. “Never seen them myself, just heard a few stories.”

“Tariq and I, we were there with our daughter when she first started her studies,” Alharir stated while her husband supported her with a nod. “I am afraid I do not remember much about the place, however.”

“The schools are a secretive and rather paranoid lot,” interjected Biala Diyn in agreement. “It is rare for an outsider to leave their borders with their memory of the visit entirely intact.”

Rarity turned to the stallion. “Have you been to the schools before?” she asked.

“A few times.” Biala fiddled with the chain around his neck. “My order, when I was still an active member, has had some dealings with the magi. They were not always entirely amicable.”

Steel chuckled. “If the rest of your order was anything like you, I’d be surprised if anyone could work with you all at all. Hey, hey, I’m just saying,” he added with his hands up as Biala Diyn turned to glare at the minotaur. “Maybe if you weren’t so stuck up or whatever all the time, they wouldn’t have kicked you out.”

“They did not kick me out,” Biala said lowly, nearly growled. “It was voluntary, and I am still part of the order. Just, it is just a, a more supportive, less public sort of role.”

“Whoa, hey, sure. No need to be upset, pal. Whatever helps you sleep.”

“You—“

“I think it’s time for bed,” Rarity exclaimed suddenly, throwing her announcement in between the minotaur and the angered stallion. “I’m sure we’re all very tired right now. It has been a rather trying day, er, night, after all.”

“She is right,” said Tariq with a nervous cough. “It would be best if we all got our rest in now, while we have the opportunity to.”

He, Rarity, and Alharir all watched carefully and with breaths bated as Steel Nerves shrugged and Biala Diyn slowly removed his hoof from the hilt of his sword. “Very well then,” Biala grumbled with a sigh while Alharir and Tariq released relieved sighs of their own.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” Steel said. “I mean, if you lot really need the rest. Me? I could go for another couple of hours at, at—“

He lifted up his hand to his mouth, but it was too late to stifle the massive yawn escaping his maw. “Um, yeah. I mean, I guess a nap wouldn’t hurt.”

“We will have to have someone on watch,” Tariq suggested as he and Alharir cleaned up their little picnic. “There are five of us, so if we each take an hour and a half or so, that will allow us all to get a full rest before we have to set off. Does everyone find this acceptable?”

The round of nods was broken by Biala who had shaken his head no. “We should be having groups of two on watch at a time. There will be more eyes that way, and they can keep each other awake.”

“Wait, there’s five of us. You can’t make groups of two out of five,” Steel Nerves protested. “You get, one? Yeah, one. You get one left by themselves.”

“It would also mean having shifts that are twice as long,” Rarity added, frowning. “I understand why we would want multiple creatures on watch at a time, but even with two creatures supporting each other, won’t that be a bit much, having to stay up for three hours at a time?”

“No, I do not believe so. Every hour and and a half, one member of the pair will switch out. That way, every shift will have someone who is already fresh and rested, save the initial shift,” Biala explained. “Say, for example, I were to take first watch with Ser Tariq. An hour and a half later, Ser Tariq would be replaced with Madam Rarity. Then, an hour and a half from then, Madam Alharir would take over for me, then Steel Nerves takes over for Madam Rarity, and finally Ser Tariq comes back to take Madam Alharir’s place for the final shift of the day.”

The rest of the group looked to each other. “I suppose that makes sense,” Tariq finally said after a solid moment of silent deliberation while the others nodded. “Alright, Ser Biala Diyn, we shall do it your way. Shall we keep the order you presented?”

“Fine, fine,” Steel said through a yawn. “Whatever it is, let’s just do it. We’ve wasting so much time just talking about it if you ask me.” He picked up the rug they had been sitting on and turned to Alharir. “Mind if I borrow this?”

“I, suppose?”

“Thanks.” The minotaur unfolded the rug and tossed it back onto the sand right beneath shady canopy. “Wake me up when it’s my shift,” he said as he lay on top of the fabric and flipped over so that his back was toward the rest of them.

“Yes, I suppose you two should do the same,” Tariq said to Alharir and Rarity, and the two mares followed him to the wagon’s entrance. “I should warn you, Madam Rarity,” the stallion said as he undid the locked hatch, “it is a bit cramp inside, and there may not be room for more than two of us at a time.”

The door opened to reveal the wagon’s interior, and once she got over the unexpected smell of spice, Rarity had to agree with Tariq’s assessment. The entire back of it was filled with crates marked by various symbols with meanings that were completely foreign to Rarity. The floor was littered with empty bottles and stray articles of clothing. Several additional boxes and some barrels sat snuggly between two long cloth blankets that hung from their corners, one to each of carriage’s side walls. Hammocks, Rarity realized as Tariq made his way inside to one of the makeshift beds and pulled out a sheathed sword, similar in style to the one Biala Diyn had on, from underneath it before returning to her and Alharir.

“You are welcome to have my bed, if you so wish,” he said with a motion toward the hanging cloth on the left. “We may have to switch between shifts, but I think we can make this work.”

Rarity regarded the offered hammock with some disdain that she hid behind a polite, grateful smile. Three weeks. She had spent the past three weeks sleeping in a hammock, and the novelty of it had long since worn off, and Rarity couldn’t imagine the lack of support to her spine was doing her posture a whole lot of good. And then there were the stuffy surroundings and the dusty air and that odd lingering scent that was causing her nostrils to burn and good goodness when was the last time they had cleaned that cloth?

Her smile forcefully widened. “I can’t just take your bed,” she said, shaking her head. “It wouldn’t be right. Don’t worry.” She gestured to the bedroll on her back. “I’ll be fine.”

Tariq nodded. “Very well.” He strapped the sword to his side and started to leave but stopped to touch his cheek to Alharir’s. “You two have a good rest.”

Alharir’s blush quickly faded with the clearing of her throat. “If, if you are in need of any cushions or such, do let me know. Have a good rest, Rarity.”

“You as well,” Rarity said, and she headed back to the shady spot next to the carriage while Alharir went inside. She found Steel Nerves already snoring away, his body sprawled over the rug and his mouth wide open, along with an additional set of bedding that had been placed the furthest away from the sleeping minotaur while still within the wagon’s shade. Biala Diyn’s, Rarity assumed as she readied her own bedroll in the space between Steel Nerves and the other sleeping bag. Said stallion stood a little distance away with Tariq just outside of the protection of the canopy.

Rarity lay down and shut her eyes. The ground beneath her was surprisingly soft, and it was warm enough that she didn’t need any coverings. The hot and heavy air itself was like a comforting blanket that helped tug her out of consciousness. It might not have been a fluffy mattress with the best down pillows, but it was unquestionably the most comfortable she had been in a good few weeks. Still, with the noises coming from the minotaur beside her and the shuffling of steps in the sand which Rarity soon figured were the sounds of Tariq and Biala Diyn’s hooves as they patrolled around their camp, it took Rarity some time before she finally doze off.

It didn’t feel like a full hour and a half had passed, but Rarity was shaken awake by Tariq regardless, and she, still groggy from the sudden rousing, didn’t have the energy to argue nor did Tariq stick around long enough to hear any protests. The tired stallion put a collapsible spyglass in her hoof, pointed her to Biala, and mumbled something Rarity couldn’t catch before making his way to the carriage. Rubbing her eyes, she got up and slowly walked over to the waiting stallion still on guard.

“Hello,” she greeted, to which Biala responded with a short nod and nothing else. His crossbow was out and in his stiff forelegs, but it was not yet loaded and the string hadn’t been pulled back into the ready position. Both the weapon and his gaze were focused on the distant hills ahead of them.

“How are you feeling?” Rarity asked.

“Fine,” was Biala Diyn’s short insistence though Rarity saw that he had to blink a number of times and his shoulders twitched before he answered. It was obvious that he was growing tired, but Rarity decided not to push the issue of his current condition. From what she had learned of the fellow in the short time they had spent together, he would probably just deny it if she expressed any concern, so instead, she extended Tariq’s spyglass toward the direction that Biala was staring in.

“Take care of the sun’s glare,” Biala warned. “Keep your gaze close to the ground. You will be no help to us blind.”

Rarity lowered the telescope and smiled. “Of course. Thank you.” The last part of the stallion’s statement was largely unnecessary, but Rarity shrugged it off as she returned to scanning the area. “So what, exactly, should we be looking for?”

“Any signs of life other than us,” she heard Biala say. “Wildlife, sapients, anything. Footsteps in the sand, burrows, tunneling trails, cart tracks. If you see that or anything else, you let me know, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye out for any movement of sand in the air as well. It could be a sign of an approaching storm.”

“Right.”

Rarity did her best to focus on her task, but watching the dunes was a task that quickly got boring, and she was relieved when she and Biala eventually moved to a new vantage point. The scenery didn’t really change, but it felt good to move around at least.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Rarity said after a bit while they continued their circle around the wagon, “what was this order you mentioned being a part of?”

“Huh? Oh.” Biala shook his head. The lack of rest was taking a visible toll on him. “It is nothing, just a group of, why do you ask?”

“No reason really. Just out of curiosity, I suppose. It’s just, you just seem so experienced.” Rarity set down the spyglass. “Did you learn all of this from your organization?”

Biala didn’t speak, and for a moment, Rarity thought he was going to snap at her and tell her to get back to work. “I did,” he finally said after another silent second. “We are all taught how to survive the desert, how to find and deal with its dangers. How to respect it. We have to, if we wish to fulfill our duties of protecting this land and its creatures.” He took hold of his symbol.

“That’s an interesting necklace you have there. Is it related to your order?”

Biala nodded. “It represents our oath and our faith. As the Green guides our souls through death and to rebirth, so shall we guide others through these valleys of despair and to shelter.”

Their conversation continued as their watch continued. The subject changed to Rarity’s purpose for being on this journey or her opinions on their fellow travelers whenever Biala’s reassignment or his past prior to joining his order was approached, but Rarity didn’t mind all that much. Making a new friend was always a plus, but learning more about her new traveling companion was really just a bonus. Rarity was satisfied as long as the goal of these conversations and the point of having two creatures on watch at a time, that being to keep them both awake and alert, was met.

There was also the nice added effect of having time pass a little more quickly. The hour didn’t exactly fly by, and the sun they were using to keep track of time still took its time inching its way across the sky, but it was definitely more bearable as they waited for Biala Diyn’s shift to end. The weary stallion went to the wagon to get his replacement, and then it was Rarity and Alharir walking around their camp, continuing their swapping of stories from the previous night while keeping an eye out for danger until finally, when Princess Celestia’s great gold orb had reached its zenith, signaling midday, Rarity was allowed to return to her bedroll.

It took nearly all her strength to shake the large minotaur beside her awake, and once she finally convinced him to get up and accept both the fact that it was indeed his turn to be on watch and Tariq’s telescope, Rarity settled back down in her spot and quickly fell back asleep.

Dusk eventually arrived, and after another short meal, the group continued their journey through the desert. Once more, they marched on through the night and even a couple of hours into the morning until they had reached the ruins of what was once a large structure, possible a manor or a temple some ages past. There they took shelter in the cover of the crumbling stone pillars and the sole standing wall and prepared for another long rest. Like the night before, Rarity’s watch came and went uneventfully, and the worst she had to do battle with was her own boredom and weariness. The entire day would have gone completely without incident had Steel Nerves and Alharir not sounded the alarm over the approach of a small pack of coyotes that fled soon after the group had gotten up and gathered together.

They set off a few hours afterwards, using the light and the positioning of the stars to guide their way, and stopped for the day on a flat plot of sand a little distance from the rolling sea of dunes. Thus ended the third day of their journey, with every creature replenishing their fill of food, drink, and rest and doing their best to keep the sand the wind was picking up from getting in their mouths and eyes.

The following night passed no differently than the last two, and just as the sun made it over the horizon, the group arrived at what Rarity would have described as the textbook example of a desert oasis, like something right out of a foal’s picture book. Before them were patches of verdant grass and several shady palms growing along the sides of a picturesque lake. At first, Rarity thought she was just seeing things, that the stress of traveling had finally gotten to her, and even when all her blinking and the rubbing of her eyes didn’t make the sight disappeared, it was only once she was right before those crystal clear waters and stared into the face of her own reflection that she became entirely convinced that this was truly real and not some mirage.

No one else appeared all that surprised by the presence of the lake and plant life, though the relief in their expressions could be easily seen. Perhaps this spot was well known by the locals or maybe it had been marked on their map. Rarity made a mental note to take a look at the map the next chance she got to see if she could locate their current position and figure out how much further they still had to go.

“We will be stopping here today,” Tariq announced, interrupting Rarity’s musings as he parked the covered wagon in the grass.

Steel Nerves sighed loudly. “Oh thank goodness. I’d have fought you if you’d said you wanted to keep going.” He started toward the lake but was stopped by Biala Diyn.

“What?” said the minotaur, his tone harsh with irritation.

“Quiet,” Biala hissed. He removed his hoof from Steel’s knee and pointed everyone to a grove of palm trees across the water. It took Rarity a moment before she along with the rest of the group noticed the tent and a train of carts hidden behind the palm leaves.

“We are not alone.”

29. In the Garden of Evil

In the Garden of Evil

“So what?” Steel Nerves demanded. “So we’ve got some neighbors who have the same bright idea we’ve got. Big deal and big surprise. There’s plenty of space to go around, and can you blame any creature for wanting to take a break here?”

Biala’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget already? The free market bazaar is still ongoing for much of this region. Right now, there should not be anyone this far out here.”

A lump formed and could be seen traveling down Tariq’s throat as he swallowed and nervously rubbed the front of his neck. “Do, do you think they might be bandits?”

“It is a certain possibility. Raiders do tend to hide deep within the Anauhock Desert during events like the free market bazaar, when the towns are either too empty to bother looting or so populated that it is not worth the risk,” Biala Diyn said grimly. He reached for the crossbow strapped to his side. “I am not seeing any movement. It does not appear that they have noticed us yet. If we were to attack now, we could catch them by surprise.”

An excited and almost childlike grin spread across Steel Nerve’s face as his own hand went down and gripped the handle of his club. “Finally. I’ve been itching for some action. Alright, let’s do this.”

“Wait,” Rarity interjected, turning away from the tent and the carts. “We shouldn’t just jump to conclusions, especially to ones that will end in violence. They could be bandits, yes, but what if they’re just travelers like us? I mean, surely we can’t be the only creatures around here who have more important matters than the bazaar?”

“They could also be settlers, perhaps,” proposed Alharir as the others digested Rarity’s words. She gestured to the lake and the surrounding vegetation. “I could see trying to set up a small village or a trading outpost here, and there would not be much competition to worry about at this time.”

Biala Diyn frowned, but he slowly eased his hold around his weapon. “It is unlikely, but I cannot say definitively that it is impossible.”

The minotaur beside him grumbled for a bit before lowering the club he was holding up. “Then what do we do? I don’t want to hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it.”

“Should we leave and find some place else to stay?”

Biala rejected Alharir’s suggestion with a shake of his head. “With the sun coming up, we would not get very far, and that could put us in a worse position if they end up being hostile and choose to chase after us.”

“What if we just stay right here and make camp as planned?” asked Rarity. “They don’t seem to have seen us, right? Maybe they’ll leave without ever knowing we were here. And if we did draw their attention and if, worst case scenario, they were to decide to attack us, we’d be able to see them coming and prepare ourselves.”

“There is a good amount of distance between us and them,” Tariq pointed out as he swept the opposite side of the lake with his spyglass. “We would have some time to ready our defenses if it came to that.”

“It would mean giving the initiative up to a potential enemy and losing our only advantage,” Biala said with another short shake of his head as he continued to frown. He motioned to Tariq who surrendered the telescope over to him. “The sun will soon be up, and then it will only be a matter of time before we are seen. Depending on their numbers, they could potentially come at us from both sides and surround us.”

“Alright, then what should we do?” Steel all but exploded. The minotaur’s hands flew up to and over his mouth as every other creature turned to glare at him. The world went still for a breathless moment that ended minutes later with a chorus of relieved sighs when nothing resulted from Steel Nerve’s blunder. “Look,” he continued with significantly less volume, “all you’ve done so far is put down everyone else’s ideas. Fine. So what’s your great plan? Because if you don’t got one, I’m just going to walk over to them and ask them all nice and plainly if they‘re looking for a fight.“

His glare locked with Biala Diyn’s stony stare. Their eyes clashed as each dared the other to avert their gaze or blink, to show any sign of weakness in an epic optic struggle that lasted up until Rarity cleared her throat, causing them both to turn to her. “We really should decide on what we’re going to do and soon,” she whispered, and beside her, Alharir and Tariq nodded in agreement as they sent anxious glances toward the quiet camp across from them. “Honestly,” Rarity added, sighing, “we have enough on our plate already. We don’t have time right now to deal with this petty rivalry between the two of you.”

“He started it,” mumbled Steel Nerves.

That got him another glare from Biala who eventually sighed and nodded. “We do need to act, yes, but as we have already discussed, there are still too many unknowns. I propose that we scout out the area to determine who these creatures are first. If they are indeed peaceful travelers or settlers or anything similar, then we can reveal ourselves to them without worry. Otherwise, well.” He rubbed his hooves together. “We will already be in a good position to deal with them accordingly.”

“Wait, hold on,” Steel said, raising a hand. “You, want us, to?”

“To stealth, yes,” Biala let out in an exasperated hiss. “Or sneak or however you understand moving around without being detected.“

“Uh.” Steel gestured down to himself in all of his natural minotaur largeness. “I’m not exactly made for sneaking, you know.”

“Yes, which is why you will be behind the first line,” Biala instructed. “You should be fine in the back as long as you stay low to the ground with your head down and keep some distance between you and the camp. Just be sure that if we do end up having to fight, you are still close enough to be able to join us quickly.”

“So far enough to not be seen,” Steel began, his expression warped in confusion, “but close enough to get into a fight?”

“Just keep within dashing distance of me, alright?”

Steel Nerves nodded. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“And the rest of us?”

Biala looked to his fellow equines with a thoughtful frown, first to Alharir who had asked the question, then to Tariq and finally to Rarity. “Who here has a weapon?”

Rarity raised her hoof while Tariq shifted so that the scimitar he wore on his side was on display. Alharir, however, just shook her head. Biala released a long and deep exhale before taking his crossbow and holding it out to the unarmed mare. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked, and when Alharir nodded, he said, “Then take this and these bolts and stay behind us. Do what you can, but avoid drawing attention to yourself, especially if you see that there are archers among the enemy.”

“Ser Biala Diyn, I do not, I mean, would it not be better if, perhaps Alharir should stay with the wagon.”

Tariq shrunk back under the glare of his partner. “Do not even dare suggest that I stay back where it is safe while everyone else here puts themselves in harm’s way,” the mare said. “Do not forget, dear husband of mine, that your life is no longer yours to risk away so easily.”

“Right now, with how little we know, we may need all the support we can get,” Biala told Tariq, giving him a stern but sympathetic look. “In any case, Madam Alharir will be safer with us, where we will all be better able to protect one another.”

Tariq, with his lips already parting, looked ready to argue, but all that came out of his mouth was a reluctant sigh as he saw reason. “Alright, I understand,” he said, giving in.

“Good.” Biala turned to Rarity. “You said you were armed, yes?”

Rarity reached into her cloak and showed him the dagger she had bought in Cowdim-La.

“And you know how to use that?”

“I’ve had some practice,” she said. Admittedly, it had been some time since her lessons with Sir Gustford, but she could still recall them clearly. Now there was just the not-so-simple matter of whether she’d be able to put that knowledge to practical use, should it come to it.

“Good. You will be with Madam Alharir in the back and guard her from any foes that get too close. Tariq and I will be up in the very front, and you,” Biala said, looking to Steel Nerves, “will be between us and them, and remember to make sure that you are—“

“Yeah, yeah, within dashing distance of you. Got it.” The minotaur was quaking in anticipation. “Come on. Let’s go, let’s go.”

“Alright. Does every creature else understand what they are doing?” Biala gave the group a couple of seconds to nod. “Everyone ready then? Good. Then let us—“

“Wait.”

Even Tariq himself seemed surprised by his own sudden interruption. That surprise turned to embarrassment as the rest of the group waited for him to continue and the silence stretched on until it became awkward. “What is it?” Biala finally prompted, which caused Tariq to wince and squirm.

“I am, I am sorry. I did not mean, I meant, it is—“ The tall stallion gulped down a breath to steady himself, with mixed results. “I was wondering, was hoping, please, would it be possible if—“

“Come on, hurry up and spit it out!” demanded Steel Nerves impatiently, which got him another round of glares and some hushing.

Tariq took another breath. “Would it be possible if I were the one to stay back and protect Alharir?”

Almost immediately after the words left his lips, he lowered his gaze to the ground as if in shameful recognition of how self-indulgent and silly his request had been. Or maybe it was to avoid the odd mix of looks of confusion, annoyance, and pity his companions were giving him.

“Oh, Tariq,” Alharir whispered, and even with her little head shake and her tired and frustrated tone, it was still obvious by her expression and the emotional lift in her voice that the act had touched her.

The look Biala was shooting at Tariq was far less tender. “Your sword would be better put to use on the frontline. Or is it that you lack confidence in your abilities?”

“It’s not, I mean, I am not—“ Tariq deflated back. “It is nothing. I understand. We may continue.”

“Actually, I don’t mind switching places with Tariq.”

Now it was Rarity’s turn to have all eyes on her. “If Tariq wants to be the one to protect his wife, well, I can go up with you instead,” she said to Biala. “It might even be better this way. With my relative size, wouldn’t it be easier for me to scout ahead without being detected?”

“Are you sure?” Biala asked as he alternated his sideways glance between her and Tariq. “You are fine with this decision?”

“I am,” Rarity declared with an air of absolute calmness even as the heightened rate of her heart’s beating betrayed the ongoing conflict within herself. Had Tariq looked any less pitiful or if she had just missed the soft little smile Alharir had on when she was looking at her husband, the reasonable section of Rarity’s brain would have won and have kept her quiet and relatively safe with Alharir in the back, as far from the possible melee and potential danger as allowed. Well, what was said was said, and despite that part of her continuing to express its frustrations over her poorly timed and ill placed romanticism, Rarity had no intentions of rescinding her offer, especially not after seeing the couple silently mouth their heartfelt appreciations to her.

“Very well then,” Biala finally conceded. “Madam Rarity, you are with me. If we do have to fight, just, focus on keeping yourself safe and on my instructions.” He gave the group one last look, then motioned forward, toward the camp on the other side of the lake. “Everyone, on me and keep quiet.”

They started to creep forward, with Biala Diyn leading the way and Rarity only a step or two behind him. Progress was slow as they struggled to keep the rustling of the grass they were crawling through to a minimum, and every now and again Biala would hold up a hoof and they would all come to a halt and wait with their breaths held for Biala to make sure the area was clear before continuing on. A couple of times, Biala made the every creature but Rarity and himself pause in order to add a few extra feet between them and the huddle mass of muscle with horns peeking out of the grass. Eventually and in spite of them going at the pace of a tired tortoise, more of the tent hidden beneath the palms could be seen along with a pair of figures standing guard.

Biala’s expression soured as he lowered the spyglass and gave it over to Rarity so that she could also better examine the beings before them. Both wore tan linens wrappings over their heads and bodies, which hid most of their features save for their ears, tails, and differing body structures. One was clearly equine, tall like Biala and the others native to this region, while the other stood upright one their hind legs, and their pointed ears and that long, lanky, twitchy tail suggested them to be cat folk. A large broad bladed knife was attached to the feline, tied to a belt of several smaller knives around their waist, and the horse next to them leaned against the shaft of a spear with a cruelly barbed head, their own head bobbing up and down as they fell in and out of sleep.

Biala nudged the telescope toward the interior of the camp, and Rarity‘s blood chilled and its flow still at the scene she saw. There were several more similarly dressed horses and cat folks and even a large diamond dog lazing about, most of whom were as armed as the initial sentries or at least had their weapons within reach. Her concern, however, was more directed at a collection of mares and foals huddling against one another in the very center, within a ring of carts. Unlike the first inhabitants of this camp they had spotted who were mostly covered from head to hoof, the poor beings here were dressed in torn rags or nothing at all beyond the collars on their necks and the shackles and chains around their leg. Exposed to the elements, the skin beneath their coats blistered and flaked from painful sunburns and horrible dryness. Long red marks marred the backs of many, and it didn’t take Rarity long to notice the coiled whips worn by the guards closest to the ring and put two and two together.

Worst of all might have been the looks on their faces. A few of the younger ones still cried openly, and fear could be seen in their eyes, but the red and puffy eyes of the adults were dull and dead, and their expressions were set to that of defeated acceptance.

“Slavers.” Biala Diyn all but spat the word out in disgust as Rarity tore herself away from the sight. “We have no chance for a peaceful resolution here,” he whispered, slowly removing his sword from his side. “Ready?”

Her heart pounding against her ribs, Rarity nodded, and Biala raised his weapon, letting the light of the sun gleam against the side of the blade. He brought it down, and immediately after, he and Rarity could hear rustling coming from behind them. The rustling became heavy stomping and snorting, and then there was a mighty war cry as Steel Nerve leapt right over Rarity and Biala in a reckless charge toward the two guards up in front.

The equine shook awake at Steel’s roar, and their spear dropped to the ground. The cat however recovered quickly from their surprise and immediately shouted out a warning as they reached for their blade. Unfortunately for them, Biala Diyn was quicker, and by the time the cat had finished drawing their knife, Biala had gotten out of his hiding place and up to them with his scimitar swinging. The curved blade slashed across the feline’s chest, cutting through their clothes and shredding them into ribbon. Biala’s strike left a large red gash on the cat’s front that extended from shoulder to hip. The cat let out a gargled gasp as their cries were silenced, and they stumbled back a couple of steps from Biala before collapsing.

The feline’s ally was still crouched over fumbling for their spear when Rarity arrived with her dagger out and, against the good instruction of all loving mothers including her own, pointed at the larger equine. “Don’t move!” she ordered, glaring into her opponent’s widened eyes. Those eyes darted to the spear. “I said don’t move!” exclaimed Rarity, slamming her free front hoof on the wooden pole. “Don’t you even think of—“

To Princess Shmarity. Message from Gustford. Been days. Should‘ve heard from you by now. Got worried, decided to risk it and contact you. Everything alright?

The voice that appeared in Rarity’s head was not hers nor did it belong to any creature she recognized. It certainly wasn’t Gustford’s voice despite what was said. Before she could ponder the contents of the mysterious message or its source further, the horse at her feet snarled and lunged toward her. Reacting quickly, Rarity swung, but the motion was panicked, wild, and unaimed. Her target easily ducked under the blade, and they continued forward, slamming a shoulder into her and roughly shoving her back a bit. It wasn’t enough to deal any real harm to Rarity, not even to leave a small bruise, but it gave her opponent the time and space they needed to scoop up their weapon and thrust it at her.

Rarity tried to back away, but the spear’s hooked tip was flying toward her too quickly for her to get out of its way. Almost instinctively, her forelegs rose over her most vital areas as she braced herself for the inevitable strike.

She felt the blow against her leg, but it hardly hurt anymore than the push and was nowhere near the excruciating, searing pain she had expected. Hit with a mix of confusion and relief, Rarity opened her eyes and found the larger equine struggling to push the spear further forward. She looked down to see the spearhead pressing against her front limb, its passage into her flesh blocked by the anklet she was wearing. Despite its dull, unpolished state, the bronze surface still seemed to shine brightly in the sunlight, almost as if emitting its own glow.

Her eyes met with those of her opponent, but the shared moment of incredulous amazement lasted only briefly as Steel Nerves’s club flew into view and smashed itself into the guard’s covered face. The force of the blow flung the horse far away from Rarity and sent them soaring into the lake.

“Yeah!” Steel roared, pumping his arm in the air. He looked down to Rarity. “Hey, you alright?”

Rarity rubbed her leg. The soreness where the spear had struck was already fading. “Yes. I’m—“

To Princess Shmarity. Message from Gustford. Been days. Should‘ve heard from you by now. Got worried, decided to risk it and contact you. Everything alright?

The voice rang out again, and this time it left an annoying, constant hum that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard Rarity shook her head. And like that, message’s meaning, though the wording had been silted and awkward, was made clear. It wanted a response, for her to answer the presented question.

If Sir Gustford is there, please let him know that I am doing, for the most part, fine. There have been some complications getting to

Steel placed a hand on Rarity’s shoulder and shook her none too gently. “Hey, come on! You need to sit this out or something?”

The humming stopped, and now all she was hearing were the sounds of battle. “No. No, I’m fine,” Rarity quickly assured. “I just, thought I heard something.”

“Well okay then.” The minotaur rested his club against his shoulder and looked into the camp where Biala Diyn was currently engaged with three separate combatants while a fourth struggled nearby against sparkling emerald vines that had seemingly sprouted out of the surrounding grass. “Come on, let’s get back to it then. Can’t let him have all the fun.”

Shouting loudly, Steel Nerves rushed into the fray and made his presence known with an overhead strike to the top of the diamond dog’s skull. The blow buried the dog’s head deep into the dirt, and after a couple of seconds of the dog struggling to free themself from the earth’s hold, the rest of the body slumped over. Rarity hurried over as well, getting the attention of another pole arm wielding equine. The serrated blade went right over her shoulder, missing it by mere inches and leaving the spear’s owner open to Biala’s attack. Radiant green flames appeared from Biala’s sword as it sliced into the neck of its target, and the slaver crumpled at Rarity’s hooves with their closed eyelids marked with bold black Xs.

A pained yell caused both Rarity and Biala to turn to Steel. A pair of daggers had found their way deep into the minotaur’s side, and the feline who put them there grinned with an infuriating arrogance as they deftly dodged the club Steel had swung at them in retaliation. That smug smile stayed on their face even as a metal bolt suddenly flew by and burrowed into the cat’s exposed forehead, knocking them down and onto their back, spread-eagle.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Steel Nerves declared, though the way he was wheezing and wincing wasn’t all that convincing. “Just, ugh.” He yanked the blades out of him and gasped. “Just give me a second, to catch my breath.”

“Take all the time you need.” Biala walked over to the last remaining enemy, the one still trapped in the vines. The others had all scattered, leaving their belongings, their captives, and their fallen comrades behind. Rarity saw that as Biala walked, he moved with a slight limp, and there was a small red mark on the stallion’s thigh. “We are done here.”

He lifted his sword as the restrained slaver weakly held up a hoof. “No, please, wait—“

The blade came down. The raised hoof dropped. The vines shimmered then vanished as Biala put away his weapon and waved over Alharir and Tariq in the distance to join the rest of them.

“Was that, did you need to,” Rarity began, but she trailed off when Biala turned to her with a cold, calculative look on his face.

“Your compassion is misplaced.” He jabbed a hoof down at his most recent victim. “They made their choice, to live a life of evil. They deserved a no better fate than this.”

She wasn’t sure she agreed with Biala here, at least not entirely, but Rarity felt it better not to argue. She couldn’t exactly say she was feeling sorry for a gang of thugs that went around making creatures into slaves, and in all honesty any sympathy Rarity had experienced toward their surrendering foe was fading before the darkly comical fashion the lifeless body presented itself; with those dark Xs on their eyes and their tongue sticking out of their mouth, it was a little difficult to take seriously.

“So, uh, what do about them?” Steel asked, pointing to those in chains. “Are we just going to let them go or something?”

Biala and Rarity shared an uneasy look. “What are you trying to say?” Biala said slowly, his hoof going back to the hilt of his scimitar.

“I mean, do we take these folks with us to the schools of magic or bring them to the nearest town or something?” Steel asked. “Or are we just going to set them free and leave them be and just let them figure out how to get out of this desert themselves? Because, well, just look at them.” He motioned to the mares and foals corralled within the circle of wagons. “They don’t really look like they’ve got much of a chance on their own.”

“That is something we will have to discuss together as a group and with them,” Biala said with a nod toward the captives after taking a moment to consider. “For now, we should remove their shackles and let them know that they are safe.”

“Right, got it.” Steel motioned to Rarity, and the two started toward the crudely improvised enclosure while Biala turned to address Alharir and Tariq. At Steel Nerves and Rarity’s approach, those inside gasped and shuffled as quickly as their chains would allow to the edge farthest away. Now it was Steel and Rarity’s turn to put on the a face of confusion and discomfort. Steel tried to make his way around the fence of wagons, but once again, the captives shifted and scurried away from him.

“Whoa, hey! What the heck’s the problem with you lot?” he exclaimed. “You afraid of something? Look, here, give me second.” Steel Nerves marched over to one of the vanquished villains on the ground, the cat with the bolt in their forehead, and dragged them back to the carts. “Alright, see? No need to be scared, there’s no one left to hurt you,” he said, lifting the body up and shaking it for all to see. “Well, he definitely can’t anymore, anyways.”

Biala threw his head back and groaned as the ones they were trying to rescue filled the air with screams of horror. “Stop that foolishness. Make yourself useful and go see what they were keeping in the tent,” he ordered Steel before returning to Alharir and sighing. “Please help Madam Rarity calm them down. They might be more comfortable around the two of you.”

Alharir nodded, and she walked over to Rarity’s side. Steel Nerves just shrugged and grumbled, “Fine, fine,” before dropping the body into the ring and inciting more screams as hooves were thrown over the eyes on the younger prisoners to shield them from the sight. While the two mares shot dirty looks at the passing minotaur and did their best to soothe the fearful crowd before them with soft assurances of safety and the warmest, most gentle of smiles, Steel stomped towards the tent by the palm trees. Continuing to grumble as he brushed aside the flap over the entrance, he peeked his head inside only to immediately reel back as a giant fist attached to an equally massive and muscular arm came out to greet him.

The rest of the creature soon stepped out of the tent. There, standing before them with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, was a minotaur bull at least a head or two taller than Steel and with an appropriately broad body to match, making him easily the biggest minotaur Rarity had ever seen. A dozen scars decorated his bare pectorals while thick rings of gold adorned his wrists and neck, and around that tree trunk of a neck he also had a string of fangs, molars, and curved horns. One of the minotaur’s own horns had been broken off, and his head seemed to tilt slightly from the unbalanced weight. He wore a fur kilt that had the maned head of a lion right in the center of his waist.

“I said I didn’t want to be bothered,” he huffed and yawned. “What’s going on h—“

The minotaur froze as he slowly came to terms with the scene before him. Rarity could almost see the gears in his lopsided head turn as he looked from Steel Nerves still rolling in the grass, clutching his bruised face, to the shaking captives staring at him fearfully to Rarity and the rest of the unfamiliar equines to the unmoving bodies of his crew and the abandoned equipment of those that fled. His expression of confusion turned to one of anger, and he lowered his head and charged forward, letting out an enraged bellow that caused some within the confines of the carts to faint.

Steel Nerves had gotten up to a knee, but the larger bull put him back down with a backhanded strike across the face as he passed. Biala shouted out a warning and went for his sword, but the minotaur got to him first. His horn gored through Biala’s shoulder, and with a toss of his head, the minotaur flung the pierced stallion into the carts.

His triumphant growl was interrupted as Tariq swung and brought the sharp edge of his scimitar to the minotaur’s thigh. The cut was a shallow one, however, and the massive brute looked down at Tariq and grinned. “Tickles,” he snorted and raised a meaty fist.

The sharp twang of a released bowstring caused the minotaur’s ears to flick and his head to turn, and he lowered his arm just in time to knock away Alharir’s bolt with his golden wrist rings. His eyes widened and his face twisted into a snarl as he saw the mare who had fired upon him and was currently struggling to reload the borrowed crossbow. With another roar and his horn pointed out, he started toward her and Rarity who stepped up and now stood in front of Alharir, her dagger at the ready as she did her best to keep her hold on it tight and steady.

Tariq struck again as the minotaur started to move away, and this time, his blade left a more substantial wound, one enough to cause the minotaur to stop and wince and yelp and switch his attention away from the two mares and back to his original target. Tariq had half a second to relish in the accomplishment before the minotaur‘s fist slammed him into the ground and all but burying his body beneath those giant knuckles.

Alharir’s scream filled the air, drowning out all other sources of sound, and before Rarity could even think of holding the mare back, Alharir had already rushed past her, hurrying toward the motionless, broken body of her husband. Rarity ran after Alharir, but it was too late to stop her from reaching the Tariq-shaped ditch at the minotaur’s cloven feet. Her mind raced for some sort of solution as the distance between Alharir and Tariq, and the sneering bull standing over the both of them quickly shrunk. She had to wonder, all of the advice she had gotten from Gustford had been based against opponents of her own or similar size, would any of his recommended weak points apply to an enemy as large as the one right before her?

The minotaur pulled back to make another devastating punch. There was no more time to plan, no time to think. Rarity broke into a mad sprint, and at the last second she leapt forward, using her propulsion to plunge her dagger deep into the minotaur’s flesh. Or at least, that had been her intent, but whether it was due to poor aim or the blade’s curved tip which made it less suited for stabbing or just plain misfortune, Rarity’s dagger had gotten stuck in the minotaur’s thick kilt and failed to even reach his skin. Her spirits sunk as gravity finished taking hold of her and dragged her crashing to the ground, weaponless.

A shadow fell over Rarity as she shook herself off. “Huh. A bit on the small side, but your pretty little face might be worth something,” she heard the minotaur boom. There he stood, leering down at her with one hand holding Alharir in place by her headscarf and the other cracking and popping as it clenched. “I’ll try not to leave anything too visible.”

Suddenly, a set of arms appeared around the minotaur’s throat, and he released Alharir and staggered forward, forcing Rarity to roll out of the way of his hoof. “Hey! Did you miss me?” shouted Steel Nerves into the larger bull’s ear as he clung to him. “I’m not done yet. Ha!”

Their foe’s entire body shook. His muscles tensed to the point where veins were visible, his breathing quickened and became more forceful with gusts of hot air being expelled from his nostrils at every exhale, and the whites of his eyes were beginning to fill with red. “Whoa!” Steel yelled out, and he held on for dear life as the bigger of the two minotaurs thrashed about wildly.

As Rarity got back onto her feet, a tan blur sped past through the corner of her eye. Biala Diyn stopped in front of the minotaur and swung his blade into the minotaur’s leg, slicing through it and bringing the larger creature to a kneel. With the minotaur down on his knee and there being a break in his attempts to shake off Steel, Steel solidified his hold around the slaver’s neck. As the minotaur kneeling before him started to gasped and choke, Steel Nerves’s arms having constricted his windpipe, Biala took a deep breath and raised his sword over his head. Its blade became ablaze with green fire. “Smite evil!” Biala cried out, and he swung.

The minotaur slammed his hands together over the burning blade, stopping it from continuing on its path to his chest. Biala pressed forward, but the sword refused to move even as the minotaur’s hands could be heard sizzling and his face turned twisted with agonizing pain and unbridled hatred. Spittle flew from the minotaur’s lips as he slowly rose and started to push Biala back.

From her cloak, Rarity pulled out her other dagger and desperately threw herself again at the implacable monster. The heavy obsidian blade found its target, sinking almost to the hilt into the minotaur’s hock and bringing him back down. The minotaur’s screams swelled even louder as Rarity yanked the dagger out of him.

Those massive hands separated, and Biala’s fiery sword was free to continue downward. It cleaved through the minotaur, slashing a huge wound into his chest and leaving behind a gash in his side from where the blade exited. The flames went out, and Biala, his breathing labored, seemed to struggle to hold up his sword. He, the rest of the group that was still standing, and a few of the wide eyed captives who were brave enough to approach the carts closest to the battle stared at the minotaur, watching and waiting for his next move.

The minotaur was still for the next second, the longest second, before he shuddered, and out of his mouth came a strangled cough. His arms dropped to his sides, and the rest of his body quickly followed as it landed face down on the ground with a hard thud, like a tree felled by a lumberjack’s axe.

Those in the pen started to whisper excitedly amongst themselves as Rarity and the rest of the group breathed out in relief and exhaustion. Steel Nerves climbed up onto his feet and stomped down on the back of the bigger minotaur while making a sweeping gesture with his arms and hands. Rarity watched as he then turned to and pointed a finger at Biala Diyn who was, with Alharir, assisting Tariq back up and looking him over for any major injuries.

“Next time,” Steel said between heavy breaths, “you check the tent.”

30. The Tower of Ahgairon

The Tower of Ahgairon

After such an considerably intensive encounter following a long night of traveling, there was nothing the exhausted party want more than to just throw themselves on the ground and sleep the day away. Alas, there was much that still had to be done before their rest could commence. The area needed securing in case the surviving slavers found the courage to return, the more severe wounds had to be dressed to ensure they would not become life threatening, and then there was still a discussion to be had with the former prisoners regarding their immediate future.

And so, instead of getting some well deserved rest and relaxation, the group got busy. Rarity went back to the mares and foals trapped behind the wagons, and Alharir, once she became convinced that her husband would be fine on his own and wouldn’t just keel over the second she left him, joined her in pushing a few of the carts aside to create an opening in the makeshift fence. Tariq, looking much better after Biala laid his hooves on his bruised and broken body, kept an eye out for trouble while Steel Nerves returned to their covered wagon and their supplies to bring everything to their new location and Biala Diyn entered the slavers’ tent to make sure there weren’t anymore massive minotaurs hiding inside.

The captives were a little more receptive to Rarity and Alharir and their comforting promises of safety, but they remained guarded and quiet up until Biala Diyn exited the tent with a ring of keys and then got to work undoing the shackles around their legs. When the last chain slipped off the last mare, there was a moment of silence before a loud, jubilant cry rang out and filled the air. Without warning, Rarity, Alharir, and Biala were hit by wave after unstoppable wave of tearful hugs and words of unending thanks. Rarity, being so much smaller than the others and those trying to show their appreciation, could only credit her personal experiences with Pinkie Pie’s backbreaking group hugs as to why her body wasn’t completely pulverized. Neither Tariq nor even Steel Nerves were safe as they too were eventually swept up in the celebration, which led to Tariq in his current weakened condition nearly collapsing from all of the heavy embracing and Steel suddenly finding himself weighed down by a pair of brave foals who had latched themselves to his legs when he had returned to the camp.

Once things had settled down and they finished cleaning up the bodies, relieving them of what few valuables there were, it was decided after some deliberation that the newly liberated would be coming with them to the schools of magic. Like Steel had pointed out, they couldn’t be sure that this ragtag group of beaten and battered mares and children would last in the desert on their own, and even with their numbers and armed with the weapons their slavers had left behind, it didn’t seem like this group could defend the oasis if the survivors of the defeated gang managed to regroup and return. The other option would have been to escort the group back to their homes, but there were so many differing origins that they had representatives from nearly half a dozen separate towns and villages across the region, and Tariq and Alharir were unwilling to make such an extreme detour, a sentiment Rarity herself had to agree with, albeit with reluctance.

There had been some uncertainty as to whether they‘d be able to support such an increase in their numbers, but after taking all of the bandits’ supplies into account, along with a couple of large chests full of expensive silverware and miscellaneous articles made of gold and several bags full of small silver squares that they found in the minotaur’s personal quarters, making sure every creature here was properly fed and watered became a nonissue. As for the horses in question, the formerly enslaved spoke amongst themselves for a little while before an elected spokemare approached. They understood the decision that Rarity’s group had made and agreed to go with them but requested that they be brought home or at least to the nearest city once the business at the schools was concluded, a request the party had no problem accepting. A larger group meant more protection after all, even if none of their addition was exactly combat ready, and if having more creatures with them to keep watch during the day led to shorter watch shifts, well, no one here was going to complain about that.

With that all concluded, it was time to eat. They had simple meal of bread, dates, and those dried ration sticks, but their new companions dug in ravenously and with such gusto an onlooker might have assumed that they were feasting on the most delicious foods the world had to offer. Shifts were then assigned by Biala to the rest of the group while, and after the meal had settled, it was bedtime for who were not on first watch. The space beneath the palms and under the canopy of Alharir and Tariq’s wagon and within the tent of the vanquished minotaur soon became crowded with slumbering bodies and what sheets and bedding they could scrounged up.

Thankfully, the day ended without any additional excitement, and by nightfall, the group had left the lake and set off into the desert once more. A few of the carts went with them, pulled by those they once imprisoned, to carry all the extra supplies, the minotaur’s shelter, and anyone who was too young or too weak to walk for very long. In addition to having more bodies around, which as one would expect lent a sense of greater security, there was another major difference to their trip now, that being that the night was far noisier than before. After the first couple of hours, the children started to grow restless, and once they realized that they were no longer in danger of being struck for speaking out, their little mouths never stopped moving. Questions about whether they were there yet and when would they get to their destination and what was their destination and why weren’t they going home drowned out the night ambience as inquiries were brought forth regarding Alharir’s martial relationship with Tariq and Rarity’s connection to Biala and Steel Nerves’s apparent familial relations with the massive brute they had fought and took down and why are you all going to the schools of magic, are you mages, can we play with your sword, can you light it on fire again, how old are you Madam Rarity and why are you so short?

The mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and older sisters did their best to manage the curiosity of the little ones, but they were eventually overwhelmed and left the original group to their fate. Never having been much of a babysitter and especially not with so many children, Rarity could only smile weakly and distract them temporarily with contemplative responses to their many questions. As much out of her element as she was, however, it was nothing compared to how awkward Biala Diyn appeared. The stallion struggled to maintain his stoic and stern composure while the surrounding bunch of foals persistently pestered him with questions and hounded him for answers. Steel Nerves, on the other hoof, seemed to relish the attention that was being piled upon him, and instead of discouraging his audience he stroked the flames of their intrigue with dramatic muscles flexes and poses and embellished retellings of their recent battle, never mind that those before him had all been witnesses. He even went so far as to, over Biala’s snappish chiding, pick up and carry a few of the foals on his broad shoulders, all while grinning so proudly and brightly that his beaming face should have better lit their path through the darkness than their lanterns.

By sunrise, however, the laughter of children had turned to bratty grumbling and complaining as the air grew hot and their little legs grew sore. After some urging from the more protective mothers and guardians, Tariq, who was leading up in front, reluctantly called for the group to stop, and they broke for camp. “We may need another two days of travel before we arrive at the schools,” Tariq said in reply to Rarity’s question when they the original five had gathered. He gave her his spyglass and gestured toward the horizon. “It is already possible to see the entrance from here.”

Rarity looked to the direction Tariq had pointed her. At first, all she saw were the hills of sand and a few small dust devils swirling about. Confused, she continued to peer through the glass, but the only thing she could find other than sand before Steel Nerves snatched the telescope away from her was a rod sticking out of the ground. Steel had no better luck than her and quickly gave up with a huff as Biala took his turn. To both of their surprise, when Biala lowered the telescope he had on a look of understanding and simply shared a nod with Tariq and Aharir before returning to his food.

“Wait, what? Come on, tell us,” Steel pestered. “Come on, what did you see?”

“Do not get so excited. You are acting like a child,” Biala said. His tone was as indifferently as ever, but Rarity could see the ends of his mouth twitch in amusement. “You will be seeing it tomorrow, so there is no need to be upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Steel Nerves folded his arms over his chest and glowered, but the bad mood didn’t last long, and seconds later the minotaur was back to smiling. “So hey,” he began in a loud whisper, “did you all see how I jumped on that jerk’s back? Pretty heroic, huh?”

His companions all let out the same groan together. That interrogative at the end, “Pretty heroic, huh,” had gotten tiresome the fourth time he presented it to some creature, and they had lost the count on how many the additional times it had been asked several hours ago. “Oh, come on,” Steel exclaimed playfully, their annoyed reaction doing little to dampen his own enthusiasm. “I saved the day back there. I mean, yeah, it was a team effort and all, but you’ve got to admit, I did real good, right? I was pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

“You certainly were a big help,” Rarity conceded with a small smile that made the one on Steel’s face grow even larger. “I‘d have to say, I’m glad you were with us.”

“Hey, see? What did I tell you?” Steel turned his head toward Tariq and Alharir. “Worth every last shekel, am I right? And you know what, you all did pretty good too. Like I said, team effort. Like how you got him in the leg like that at the end,” he said, looking to Rarity as he mimed a stabbing motion before turning to Biala. “And that thing you did with those vines and, and when you made your sword catch on fire. Hey, you think you can teach me how to do the fire thing or does it only work with swords?”

Biala stared with an eyebrow cocked. “You are acting odd. It is almost as if that was the first battle you have ever been a part of.”

“What? No, no, of course. I’m just, you know, still excited, that’s all. Always happens after a good fight, you know?” Steel Nerves assured while he shook his arms around. “I’m pumped, I’ve got the blood flowing in me.”

Biala‘s other eyebrow rose to meet the first. “That was some time ago,” he said.

“Yeah, well, it was a really, really good fight.” Steel shrugged then punched the air a couple of times. “Yeah! Bring on the next one!”

“Hm.” Biala Diyn stroked a hoof through his beard. “Then I suppose you will not mind taking watch first. I will let the others assigned to that shift know you will be joining them.”

Steel’s face fell as Biala stood up and the others hid their chuckles. His lively energy visibly drained from his body, his shoulders drooping and his posture becoming sagged. “Wait, hold on, I mean, I’m not saying I’m not tired or anything. Hey, come on.” He looked to the rest of them for support, but Rarity, Tariq, and Alharir were already busy cleaning up and preparing their own sleeping arrangements, and as Steel hurried after Biala in protest, Rarity found herself a nice shady spot next to the wagon while Tariq and Alharir escaped to privacy of the carriage’s interior.

The day passed, again without incident, and then it was right back to marching through the desert. Remembering Biala’s words, Rarity kept watch for structures and landmarks as the group continued its journey, but it wasn’t until halfway through the night did she see anything other than sand, and all it was was that pole she had spotted the previous day out in the distance, now visible without the aid of refracting lenses.

Hours later, Rarity realized her mistake. It wasn’t a stick she saw extending out of the sand but rather a distant tower. As they drew closer to it, Rarity noticed that the tower was emitting a bright light, so bright in fact that the stars above were slowly disappearing, their celestial luminance outshone by the glow of a terrestrial usurper. Perhaps strangest of all was that the tower seemed to extend indefinitely into the heavens, something which hadn’t fully hit Rarity until she discovered that the top of the tower couldn’t be seen no matter how far she craned her neck.

When she caught up to Tariq and pointed the structure out, the stallion nodded and confirmed its presence and all of its oddities. That strange tower, he told her, was their destination and would be leading them to the elusive schools of magic. When a confused Rarity pressed for a more elaborate explanation, Tariq appeared to wrestle with his tongue for a bit before admitting that the whys and hows were beyond his own understanding of the arcane and that it would just be simpler if she just experienced it herself. It wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but it was all Rarity had to accept.

Others started to take notice of the tower as the night continued, striking some silent with awe while spurring others to double their questioning efforts. Steel Nerves was of the latter and would verbalize his observations and thoughts every third minute, but over the hours even he became quiet as he tired. When the sun had risen and it was time to make camp, the tower had gotten a bit bigger and more clearly visible though details were still difficult to make out from a glance. There appeared to still be a great deal of distance between them and their objective, at least by Rarity’s estimate, but Tariq confidently stated that they would be arriving there late tomorrow morning.

Rarity and Steel Nerves both were skeptical, the minotaur overtly more so, but the merchant turned out to be right. By the next dawn, the great tower was looming over the group, its immeasurable height giving every creature within its shadow a sense of wonder and feelings of dread and insignificance. The tower’s entrance stood before them a mere stretch away, guarded by a set of double doors, and they pressed on, ignoring the growing pains in their limbs and the heat of ascending sun as the end in sight gave many their second wind. Even when some started to groan and complain, Tariq forced the group forward until finally they and their carts reached the tower’s doorstep.

The doors themselves were massive, maybe three or four times as tall as Steel Nerves and one and a half times his broadness from shoulder to shoulder, and made of either bronze or brass framed by iron. Too heavy to push, and even if they were more appropriately sized or of lighter materials, Rarity couldn’t find handles or any other way to open the doors. She looked to Tariq, Alharir, and Biala Diyn, those who she knew had some knowledge of this place, for answers, but the three just stood there in front of the doors, staring.

“So, uh,” began Steel, scratching his head. “Is this, like a puzzle or—“

All three horses hushed him before turning their attention back to the doors. Steel glanced over to Rarity who shook her head and shrugged. A minute passed, then another, then in the middle of the third there was loud, deep groan. Children shrieked and hid behind their gasping guardians as creases formed across the doors and became a set of wrinkled lips and eyelids that lifted to reveal a pair of giant eyeballs, one on each of the doors. One eye was green and bloodshot, the other golden brown.

The eyes whirled around independently of each other to stare at those still gathered before the doors. The lips parted, and out came a low booming voice. “Business?” it said.

Tariq cleared his throat nervously. “V-visitors. We are visitors. We are merchants with goods to sell, and, uh, um—“

“And we are here to see our daughter,” added Alharir. “Her name is Aibnatu, and she is a student of Magus Grimclaw.”

The green eye turned to Biala Diyn and gold one to Steel. “Bodyguard,” Biala stated with a curt nod.

“Uh, s-same as him,” Steel Nerves said as he tried not to look directly at the eyeball the size of his entire head.

“Hm,” hummed the door. The eyes looked to Rarity. “And you?”

Rarity swallowed and steadied herself. “I’m here in search of magical knowledge.”

The eyes narrowed for a moment before the green one turned to face the crowd huddling behind them. “And them?”

“They are, ah, with us,” Tariq said. “Just, they do not have any real business here and will leave as soon as we are done with ours.”

The door hummed again and pressed its lips tightly together. The eyes shut, and slowly, the doors creaked open outwardly and revealed to them a room shrouded in shadows undisturbed by either the natural sunlight or the glow of the surrounding tower. Tariq released a sigh and nodded to the inside of the tower. “Alright then,” he announced, raising his volume so that all could hear him. “Let us go in. Do not leave anything behind. Bring the carts with you. Everyone ready?”

Hearing a smattering of confirmations in response, Tariq walked in first and was followed shortly after by Alharir with their covered wagon. The moment the threshold was crossed, they were swallowed up by the darkness, and at the sight of Tariq and Alharir and the carriage vanishing away like that, some of the newest additions to the group stirred uncomfortable. “You two should go next,” Biala Diyn said. “I will bring up the rear and do what I can to keep everyone here calm.”

“That, uh, that sounds like a pretty big job. You know, for just one creature.” Steel Nerves coughed. “Why don’t I stick around to help with that, huh?” He turned to Rarity and tried to put on a smile. “You go on ahead of us. I’m sure it’s safe. Yeah, it’s probably fine. Yeah.”

The minotaur hurried after Biala to try and reassure the crowd, leaving Rarity alone and with several gazes upon her watching intently. She sighed and took a step toward the darkness, then after taking a deep breath, she walked inside.

The air around her became cold, a stark contrast to the desert heat she was just in. Rarity shivered, and she turned her head back to discover that the tower’s open entrance had disappeared, her path leading outside gone. Her heart started to race, but she forced it to slow down with another breath. “Calm down, Rarity,” she whispered to herself. “Tariq and Alharir are in here as well. Just find them, and you’ll be fine.”

She looked around, but the only thing she could find in the dark was a yellow glow a little ways away. Seeing few other options, Rarity decided to walk towards the light, and it didn’t take long before she stepped into view of the source. There, on a large wood table, was a lit candle, and sitting across from Rarity, on the other side of the table, was a pair of cat folk in matching gray robes scribbling away on pieces of parchment. Between the two cats was an open ledger, and across its pages danced a quill unaided. To her side stood Tariq and Alharir who failed to notice her approach and only turned to greet her when she called attention to herself.

“Here you are, sir and miss,” said one of the cats as he held out a rolled up scroll toward Alharir. His eyes, Rarity noted, were the same golden brown as the one that appear on the door. The other cat was also presenting a scroll, and their green eyes were bloodshot which added to their exhausted and disheveled appearance.

“Your pass,” mumbled the green eyed feline. “Shouldn’t have to tell you not to lose it.” Once Tariq had accepted the scroll, the cat turned to Rarity. “Name?”

“Rarity.”

The cat smirked as they went back to writing. “Shmarity Glory Sparkler de Tabitha, Princess of Spiketopia.” The feather pen in their paw paused. “Business? Looking for magic knowledge.”

“And necromancy of all things,” the cat’s partner butted in. “Huh, interesting.” He smiled that typical smug feline smile. “Well, it’s an honor to have you, Princess. Oh, excuse me! Yes, you in the back, the pretty mare pulling the cart, you next to the minotaur. Walk over here please. Oh, and if you could please bring your kid with you. Let’s save some time and get the both of you processed.”

One of the mares they had rescued suddenly appeared beside Rarity, and behind them clung a filly. “Now if I could have your names, please?” the cat said.

“Ahem.” Rarity turned back to the more tired looking of the pair. “Your pass,” they said, placing a roll of parchment in front of her. “Keep it on you at all times while on campus and don’t lose it. It’ll grant you access to the public facilities and the lower level libraries and lecture halls. Anywhere higher needs permission from a dean.” They gestured lazily to the side where Tariq and Alharir now stood before getting out more paper. “Next.”

Rarity slowly made her way over to the couple and their carriage. “Is everything alright, Rarity?” Alharir asked her once the initial salutations were exchanged. “You look worried, if you do not mind me saying so.”

“I’m fine,” Rarity said though her unsteady tone demonstrated otherwise. She shook herself, but the intrusion she felt in her head had already left. “Did, did you hear, I mean, how did they, what?”

Alharir gave her a sympathetic smile while her husband nodded with similar sentiments behind the motion. “Yes, they are rather unsettling,” Alharir said with a glance toward the cats as they gave out more scrolls and sent more creatures their way. “I felt so too our first time here.”

“They were here then as well?” Rarity asked. “The receptionists?”

“Yes,” answered Tariq with his forelegs folded over his front as he sat and frowned at the cats. “The exact same. Same eyes, same robes, same attitudes.” He shook his head. “Nothing of this mad place has changed since then, that much I can remember.”

“There was, a disagreement the last time we were here,” Alharir explained when Rarity looked to her questioningly. “They, might have mentioned a few thoughts Tariq was trying to keep private, and he, well, he did not take it well.” The mare smiled and giggled softly. “Aibnatu refused to speak to him out of embarrassment for the rest of that day.”

A crowd slowly grew around them as more and more received their passes and joined them, including Steel Nerves who looked especially shaken and would periodically glance over his shoulder at the welcoming desk and shudder. The last to arrive of Biala Diyn, and the experience only seemed to have annoyed the stallion. With every creature now gathered together, the two cats got up from their desk and walked up in front of the crowd. They stood there, waiting for the crowd to quiet with their paws clasped behind their back.

“Alright folks, we’ve got a few quick rules to run through, and then we’ll have you on your way,” said the cat with the yellow eyes.

“Act civilized and don’t do anything stupid,” said the other feline, yawning.

“You’re all free to move about and do whatever in the visitor’s section so long as you aren’t being a nuisance. If you have access to anywhere else, and we’ve already told you who you are, just show whoever’s in your way your pass, and they’ll let you through.”

“If you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be, don’t worry. Your pass’ll let you, and more importantly us, know.”

“Remember to keep your pass on you at all times. If you do somehow end up losing it, do not panic. Return to the visitor’s section immediately and remain in one place. Your pass will likely find its way back to you.”

“In the event of an emergency, follow instructions and evacuate the plane of existence in a calm and orderly manner.”

“The schools of magic bid you welcome,” both cats said in unison, and as they bowed their heads, the world went white. On reflex, Rarity’s eyes squeezed shut as others cried out and gasped in surprise. The chill in the air was suddenly replaced by a comforting warmth, like the ray of the sun on a perfect summer day, and when Rarity opened her eyes, she found that she no longer stood in darkness.

No, for the town plaza she and rest of the group were now in was as bright as day.

31. A Wrinkle in the Weave

A Wrinkle in the Weave

“Wait, what the, how, what?”

Steel Nerves’s stammered exclamation neatly conveyed the shock and confusion of the group’s majority as they took in their new setting. A bright, blue, impossible sky complete with its own sun and roaming clouds hung above their head and the roofs of the buildings around them to their bewilderment. They had just stepped into a dark tower only minutes ago so how was it that they were now surrounded on all sides by houses and shops and the occasional tree planted in the pavement to add a little natural color?

“Magic,” was Biala Diyn’s disinterested answer, and as simple and lazy as the answer was, it was the only explanation that could’ve made any sense here. Many started to nod and ohh and ahh as if they suddenly understood what had happened. The place was called the schools of magic after all, it probably would have been odder had they enter through more mundane means.

Rarity, however, still couldn’t quite shake off those feelings of shock and disbelief. Not by the the possibility of magic being involved, no. She, being a unicorn and all, never mind her current lack of horn and abilities, could handle magic and its presence, and being in the regular company of such accomplished and talent magicians as Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer meant that she was no stranger to astonishing, amazing, and awesome acts of arcana. Still, of all the powerful spells she had personally witnessed Equestria’s premiere princess of friendship and her former student perform, Rarity couldn’t think of any that were similar to what she was experiencing right now, and she had no delusions of herself being able to pull off anything a mile near this level.

It didn’t feel like any teleportation spell Rarity had been through, and the largest number she had ever seen Twilight bring was maybe seven or eight, less than half the size of her current group. Was this all just an illusion? She tapped her hoof on the pavement. It sure felt real, as did the fresh outdoor air she was apparently breathing in. The magnitude of this magic seemed to rival that of Discord’s, and the thought of there being another creature with as much power as the nigh omnipotent spirit of chaos made Rarity shudder.

She felt something against her shoulder and turned. “I know, it is a lot to take in all at once.” Alharir said with a sympathetic smile as she withdrew her hoof and motioned Rarity toward the rest of the moving group. “Let us get going. We still need to find some place to stay.”

“Oh, of course.” Rarity shook herself and followed after Alharir, hurrying to catch up with the group. As they walked through the streets, Rarity‘s earlier discomfort turned to curiosity over all the new sights, and she started to relax. The separate houses with their yellow roofs, tan walls, and wooden frames painted blue reminded Rarity of Ponyville and were a welcomed change to the endless sands of the desert. Almost every building they passed had a sign near or hanging over the entrance decorated with images of varying brightness, colors, and details. Some were obvious, like an open-air cafe that had the picture of a dish with a spoon and fork crossed over it or what could have only been an ice cream parlor with that giant cone stacked with scoops of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and mint pistachio right above its door, while others Rarity could only guess what laid inside. Like that one building which was adorned with the image of a single crimson and heavily detailed pinion. What could that possibly mean? A stationary store? A pet shop? Arts and craft?

The inhabitants of the town were just as diverse as Baldursgait had been, at least in regards to the type of creatures that were around. Ponies of all sizes and sorts strolled the streets with their more exotic and taller equine cousins. There, chatting away on a bench in front of a sprouting fountain, was new duo of cat folk, one in a dress fit for a noble lady and the other in a set of dusty robes. Some yaks greeted the group with a hearty hello as they passed while a lone minotaur with his nose buried in a book walked by without even noticing them. They, like many of the creatures here Rarity noted, were dressed in robes or capes, and the minotaur who had passed them by also had on a pointed hat with a wide brim.

An elderly griffon stepped out of a building and onto the street, and he shouted at the young pegasus who flew overhead and nearly knocked over the stack of crates the griffon was carrying. No, not carrying, Rarity realized with a wide-eyed stare, but, levitating? She blinked several times, but the griffon’s claws stayed low to the ground while the boxes remained in the air, held aloft by a dim aura barely visible in the sunlight. It was such a simple trick, any unicorn foal could figure it out with a bit of time and practice, but to see it being done by a griffon, by a member of a species not known for having any magical affinity, was more than a little surprising.

The griffon was glaring at her now. Realizing that she had been staring for much longer than what was considered polite, Rarity looked away and turned her attention to her companions. They had stopped and were crowding around a moderately sized billboard that stood between two bearded stallions made of stone, their capes and hats carved to appear as if they were fluttering in a breeze. As she got closer, Rarity saw that on the board was a map of the area and a highly detailed one at that. The depictions of all the buildings and streets and landmarks like statues and fountains were so meticulously and even appeared somewhat three dimensional, which made Rarity questioned whether she was just looking at a picture of the town taken from a bird’s eye view.

From an initial glance at the map, Rarity gathered that the place was structured in the shape of a circle, with rings of buildings going around one another separate by rounded roads. A web of connecting paths ran throughout the entire city, meeting in the center at the walls of what appeared to be a great cathedral. Rarity turned her head for a quick look, and sure enough, she could see the grand structure’s domed roof peeking over the tops of the city’s lesser buildings.

Tariq tapped the board right where there was a bright dot marked by the bright flashing words YOU ARE HERE, and as he traced his hoof along the street they were on, the map in front of them fade momentarily before returning.

“We should find a place to lodge and get some rest,” Tariq declared. As he spoke, a number of buildings on the map suddenly lit up, each with a short line of bright bold text over it. There was The Yawning Portal[/], Dragon’s Rest, The Bloated Wizard’s Tavern[i/], High Moon Inn, Halfway Inn, all scattered throughout the town.

“So, these all inns and stuff, right? Alright, how about this one? It’s pretty close to where we are now.” Steel Nerves pointed at one of the presented establishments, causing the building to flicker as his finger passed through it. With its burgundy brick walls and rows of covered windows spanning across multiple floors and a statue of a mare in a hooded dress in front of its gated entrance, the place Steel was pointing out gave Rarity the impression of a downscaled Manehattan hotel. “Enchantress’ Ecstasy,” the minotaur slowly read aloud. “Huh. Looks kind of fancy. Must be nice.”

Shaking his head, Biala Diyn stepped forward and placed his hoof in an open space of parkland. “Let us set camp over here. That should be allowed, as long as we are not being disruptive.”

“Wait, you want to camp out?” Steel waved his hand across the map. “When we’ve got all of these to choose from?” He groaned, and Rarity had to say, she felt a similar annoyance toward Biala’s suggestion. His offer of trading their mattress of sand for one of grass felt insulting when compared to the promise of a nice soft bed with real pillows and sheets and her own private room and hours of sleep uninterrupted by watch rotations.

“It is not whether I want to or not,” Biala said stiffly, and he motioned toward the mares and foals they had rescued. “They are still our responsibility. We do not have the means to pay for lodging for all of them, not at some fancy inn in any case. Or are you suggesting that we are to abandon them after bringing them all the way here?”

“Hey, hey. Don’t make me into the villain here,” Steel shot back. “I’m the one who said that we couldn’t just leave them by themselves, remember? And I’m still all for getting them back to their homes safe and sound once we’re done here. But come on, after everything we’ve already done and been through, I think we deserve a little break. You can’t honesty tell me you don’t miss sleeping on an actual bed. Besides, they can fend for themselves for a couple of days at least.” He turned to some of the group in question. “Right? You’re in a city now, or whatever, civilization, so there’s nothing you need to worry about anyways. No bandits, sandstorms, slavers, nothing. You can handle yourselves for a few days here, right?”

There were a few scattered nods. “You see?” the minotaur trumpeted triumphantly at Biala, but when the stallion’s sole reaction was to supplement his glare with a raised eyebrow, Steel’s puffed chest deflated a bit and he sighed. “Look, you can’t just, expect me spend my entire time here sitting around and babysitting. It’s my first time at the schools of magic, and who knows when my next chance to come back will be. I’ve got to see what I can, you know, explore the place.”

Steel’s plea only deepened the scowl on Biala’s face. “You are not here to have fun. You have a job to do.”

“The job I was paid to do was getting us here and getting us back,” Steel snapped. “So yeah, I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I did my job.”

“Yes, and you did it like the amateur that you are.” Biala said with a short snort. “If I were your employer, I would have demanded my money back.”

“Yeah well, you’re not, and if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be standing here to complain. Oh, and guess what? I’m not hearing the actual boss saying a single bad thing about my work.”

Steel and Biala both turned their heads toward Tariq, and he shrunk back as he found himself in the middle of yet another one of their arguments. When it became clear that the spotlight wasn’t leaving the poor stallion any time soon, Rarity readied herself for a new round of deescalation. To her surprise, as she was opening her mouth to speak, Tariq himself stepped up with a loud clearing of his throat.

“I believe,” he began slowly, “it may be best if we, disbanded, for the time being. It is not because I am not disappointed by either of your performances,” he quickly assured. “You have done us a great service in getting us here, both of you, but Ser Steel Nerves, he is not wrong in that we had only hired the two of you for the journey to the schools and back. There is much my wife and must get done, setting up shop, letting our daughter know that we are here, and I understand that you, Madam Rarity, have your own business here.”

He nodded to Rarity and adjusted his headdress before continuing. “Given that we all have different goals and wants while being here, perhaps we should go our separate ways. And, when the time comes to leave the schools, we will regroup then.” He looked around the group. “Is that acceptable?”

Steel Nerves crosses his arms but gave a small shrug. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Works for me.”

Biala took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Where and when should we meet then?”

“The main campus building,” Tariq answered almost immediately, and as he spoke, the cathedral in the center of the map started to glow while the city’s inns dimmed away. “Yes, I am starting to remember from my last time here. It is impossible to miss, and we should all have access to its entrance at the very least. As for when, let us meet in, let us say, four days?”

“Four days?” The protest came from Alharir. “You cannot be serious. How can you possibly think that a mere four days with our Aibnatu, after all these years of separation, would be enough?”

Tariq winced and sighed. “That, we will have to discuss this later. Aibnatu, she will have her own schedule, and we do not want to, that is, we will have to discuss this later.” He turned to the rest of the group. “If we need to extend our stay, we will let you know once we have gathered, but for now, let us agree to just meet up in four days. We can decided on when to leave then.”

There was a round of nods, and though Alharir did not look any happier, she made no further objections. “Will you be finished with your business here by then, Madam Rarity?” Tariq asked.

“I, am afraid I can’t quite answer that just yet,” she said with a small, apologetic smile. “I do have quite a few rather important tasks that must be done while I’m here.”

Like learning more about this necromancy and figuring out how it could be used to save her friends from the Squid Wizard, and while she was here, Rarity wouldn’t mind doing some investigation into how she ended up in these unfamiliar lands with a new identity and memories and maybe even find out more about the mysterious being who had supposedly brought her here. And then there was matter of finding and retrieving her horn, if it was even here. The Queen of Fey had only told Rarity to look south, and with only a vague direction to work off of, she could only hope that if her missing horn didn’t happened to indeed be at the schools of magic, then maybe there was at least a clue here that would bring her closer to its actual location. If not, well, given a bit of time and a whole lot of patience, Rarity was certain she’d be able to convince a rescued Discord to help her once she finished enduring his inevitable teasing over the fact.

Whether she would be able to accomplish any of that in just four days, however, well...

“I’ll let you know if I’ll be ready to leave when we meet again,” Rarity finished saying.

“Very well,” Tariq said. “Then it is decide. We meet again in four days time at the main campus building, around noon.” He gave each of the three creatures who had been with him and his wife since their journey’s beginning a nod, first to Rarity, then to Biala Diyn, then finally to Steel Nerves. “Until then, I wish you all the—“

“Wait,” Alharir interrupted. “I am sorry. Just, please spare me one moment before you all head off.”

The mare removed herself from the wagon and went inside it. There was some rummaging to be heard, and after a few seconds, they turned to Tariq questioningly, but he just shook his head and look as confused as the rest of them. Finally, Alharir returned and with three heavy sacks on her back. “These are for you,” she said, giving the first bag to Biala. “Consider it a bonus for the wonderful job you have done, a token of our appreciation.”

Biala took the bag hesitantly, and weighed it in his hoof as Alharir gave the next one to Rarity and then moved on to Steel Nerves. “This, is—“

“From the slavers’ camp, yes,” Alharir explained. “Tariq and I, we had already divided the shekels we found in the tent of their leader and were planning to distribute it once everything was finished, but I suppose now would be as good a time as any.”

Rarity slowly loosened the string that was holding the bag closed, and the silver squares brimming inside threatened to spill out. The minotaur standing beside her hadn’t been as careful, and as he scrambled to the ground to recover the silver that had fallen out, Rarity turned to Alharir and Tariq and said, “This, this is quite the generous gift, and I wish could show my appreciation beyond a simple thank you, but won’t the two of you be needing any of this?”

Tariq stared at the bag of silver in Rarity’s hoof, and eventually he shook his head. “We will be fine. And it is not a gift. It is what you deserve. We would not be here if it had not been for the three of you.”

It was a statement that Rarity couldn’t really dispute nor was she all that inclined to try, and so with a grateful nod, she put the bag away as did Steel Nerves. Biala, however, continued to hesitate, and he simply looked uneasily at his portion of the looted silver.

“Hey, if you don’t want it.”

Biala slapped away the reaching hand and as he glared at the minotaur who owned the offending appendage, he placed the pouch into his saddlebags, in the pocket right beside the hilt of his sword. He bowed to Tariq and Alharir and said, “Thank you for this kindness. Until we meet again.”

Then, with a farewell nod to Rarity and a gesture to those behind him, Biala Diyn walked off, taking the mares and foals and carts that had been freed from the slavers with him.

“Well, if that’s everything, I’ll be heading off too,” Steel Nerves announced with a yawn. “There’s a hot meal and a nice bed waiting for me somewhere in this town.” He waved and started down the street, the silver jangling from his belt, and soon after, once they had finished saying their good byes, Rarity separated from Alharir and Tariq.

She first headed in the same direction as Steel had gone with the same plan the minotaur had in mind but stopped, turned, and hurried instead after Biala Diyn and those under his care. The distance between her and them had already grown a good deal in that time, but the group eventually halted in response to Rarity’s calls, giving her a chance to catch up. When she reached Biala up in front, she took out her bag of silver squares and held it out toward him.

“If I’m not mistaken, you will be needing this far more than I will,” Rarity declared to Biala with a knowing glance at those around him. “What with all the extra mouths you’ll have to feed and bodies to shelter. I still have plenty of my own money leftover, so there’s no need to worry about me.” She patted the front of her cloak, and against her chest she felt her personal wallet, still relatively full of Spiketopia currency, in addition to her sack of diamonds. “There must be an affordable hostel somewhere in this place, I’m sure, so do try to spend at least one night indoors and give them something better than dried rations and cold bread for dinner.”

It took Biala some several seconds before he finally accepted the offered money. “I thank you, Madam Rarity,” he said as he entered a bow. Those closest to him who had witnessed the exchange did so as well, and those closest to them seeing the gesture followed suit, and so on and on until the entire crowd was bowing to Rarity.

The scene was just as embarrassing and discomforting for her as it had been in Horshire, and the strange looks they were getting from the few bystanders wandering nearby made it all the worse.

“Please, don’t,” Rarity plead. “It’s alright, truly, it is. I just wish I could do more to help, but there’s so much I still need to get done.” She slowly backed away. “Er, yes, anyways, I suppose we will be seeing each other soon. Do stay safe.” And she hurried off to escape any further awkwardness, making her way back up the street, to the map on the billboard.

Alharir and Tariq were already gone by this point, and Steel Nerves could no longer be seen. Just as well, Rarity supposed. While she had enjoyed the company of her fellow travelers and could probably use some extra hooves and hands, it didn’t seem right to her to try and recruit them into helping her with her search, not when they all had their own things to do. Stifling a yawn, Rarity looked to the board and got to planning.

“Library, please?” Rarity said aloud. If there was any place to start looking for information, it would be at a library, though she felt a little silly over having to asked the actual map for directions. A small number of spots were glowing in response, but the most prominent one to Rarity was the great building in the very center. It was the place they were to meet again, the main campus building if she was remembering Tariq‘s words correctly, and it made sense. Of course the schools of magic would have a large collection of knowledge within its main building, where its students probably spent most of their studies, and it was probably where the lecture halls the cat from the tower had mentioned were as well. Books, students, and perhaps even members of the teaching staff, yes, with all of those resources in one place, the main campus building was the obvious place to start.

Another yawn arose, and this time Rarity couldn’t keep it from escaping. With it came a wave of weariness and a reminder of the long night of travel she had just gotten through. Eagerness was no substitute for proper rest, and in Rarity’s current state, she wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to accomplish. She couldn’t exactly read a book if her eyelids were too heavy to keep up, now could she?

“Inns,” Rarity said, and the map again displayed all of the lodging establishments. She tried to study her options, tried to compare the appearances of the different buildings and gauge and rank them based on assumed luxury and potential price in hopes of finding one that found that perfect balance between comfort and cost. That criteria was becoming increasingly difficult to judge as Rarity’s tiredness continued to eat away at her, and she was slowly approaching her limit. In the end, she decided on the closest and most convenient place and just hoped that it had clean sheets and an affordable rate.

It didn’t take Rarity very long to find the place even in her dreary state as the garden of ivies in the front and the quaint styling of the building made it all very distinctive. Its appearance reminded Rarity a bit of Fluttershy’s cottage except that it was blown up to be four to five times its size and thus was lacking in much of the original’s coziness and charm. A wooden sign dangling from rusty chains hung above the red, rounded entrance, and beneath all the vine growth she could barely see the faded picture of a bed with a bowl where the pillow should have been. Perched on the sign was a plump raven that at Rarity’s approach croaked out a shaky, “Caw-elcome. Hag’s Haw-ven. Yes. Va-caw-cies.”

Normally such an odd welcome on top of the place’s particular styling would have sent Rarity back to the map in search for something a little more conventional, but her usual pickiness took a back seat to her need for rest, and walking all the way back to the street when she had already made it to the doorstep here really didn’t seem worth it. So once she had recovered from the raven’s greeting and forced herself to stop caring about the bird’s staring, Rarity pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The smoke filled lobby she entered was largely quiet, though muffled laughter could heard coming down a hall leading further within. On one side of the room, there was a brick fireplace decorated with potted plants and old portraits of cats in ribbons and bows. Two such furry little creatures, one black and the other brown with white spots, were sprawled over the hearth, their tails flicking as they soaked in the heat of the contained fire. On the room’s other side, there were some pieces of furniture, including a dusty coffee table, a worn couch, and a couple of old fashion rocking chairs, all of which were already occupied by more cats. One of them raised their head as Rarity passed for a scratch beneath their chin, which Rarity obliged before continued to the desk in the back.

The receptionist sitting at the desk was a mare sucking on the end of a polished pipe while she leafed through an old pamphlet. Her gray mane and the wrinkles on her face suggested some age, but to what extent, Rarity couldn’t tell. The posture of her body and the sparkle in her eyes suggested that the mare was still very much in her prime. As Rarity got closer, the mare looked from her reading and breathed out a gust of smoke. The scent of cinnamon and spicy herbs tickled Rarity’s nose and caused her to sneeze.

“Ah, ‘ello there dearie,” the mare said. She tapped her pipe against the side of the desk and emptied it. “Welcome to the Hag’s Haven, for those looking for a little slice of countryside heaven. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Her voice was full of youth, but the words she spoke and their intonation made Rarity think of her own grandmother. “I’d like a room, please.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The mare reached down and pulled out a massive book and dropped it onto the desk with a loud and dusty thud. As she opened the ledger, she put on a pair of glasses and took out a pen. “Let me see your pass, please. Thank you, dearie. Now, let’s see here. Ah, a Miss Shmarity is it? Or should we say, Princess?”

The chuckle the mare let out was closer to a crackle. “The first night’ll be a gold piece, and don’t you fret, Spiketopia coins will be fine. Every night after is going to be eight silvers.”

Rarity fished out her purse and placed a single gold coin down on the desk. “Just the first day for now.” The mare scooped the coin up and studied it in the light. Once satisfied, she shut the book and returned Rarity’s pass back to her.

“Yes, yes. Wonderful. Now if you could please follow Mister Whispers, he’ll take you to your room.” As she spoke, one of the cats jumped onto the desk with a ring of keys jangling from their tail. “Your room is on the second floor, to your left,” the mare continued, gesturing to the stairway leading upwards. “Dining room is down that way, if you get the hankering for something hearty. It’s all made from scratch, none of that conjured junk that you’d find anywhere else.” She pointed to the hallway behind her where the muted sounds of revelry were coming from before returning to Rarity with a small smile. “Enjoy your stay, dearie. If you need anything, just let either me or one of my lovelies know.”

The cat with the keys dropped to the floor and after rubbing against the front of Rarity’s leg, he pounced off and up the stairs and waited for Rarity to follow him upwards.

Despite the building’s appearance, it was still very much an inn, with rows of doors leading to private rooms. They stopped before one of the rooms, and as the cat pawed at the closed door, one of the keys removed itself from the rest of the ring and floated into the lock. The door swung open, and as the key returned to the cat’s tail, Rarity followed her feline guide inside.

It was a fine little room, finely furnished, finely cleaned, nothing too fancy but perfectly fine for a short stay. Sunlight and fresh air streamed through an open window, and next to the wall was a writing desk made of polished wood and a couple of cushioned chairs. There was even a small closet with coat hooks and a hat stand, but Rarity barely made a note of it as her attention immediately went to the provided bed. Like the rest of the room, it was comparatively modest by Rarity’s standards, but the mattress was adequately sized, far larger than the cot she had half-expected in any case, the sheets looked washed, and when Rarity pressed down on the pillows to gauge their softness, they gave little resistance and threatened to swallow up her hoof.

A soft meow caused her to turn back to the entrance, just in time to catch Mister Whispers’s striped tail as the door closed behind him. Now alone, Rarity got ready for bed. She pulled the binds over the window to darken the room and removed her saddlebags and her cloak, giving them a quick pat to knock off the initial layer of sand before draping them over one of the chairs. Then she unceremoniously flung herself on the bed and buried her head into the pillow.

A thought did occur to her, a disturbing one regarding all of the dust that currently clung to her coat and mane, but it was too late. Thanks to a combination of physical exhaustion from the difficult journey, mental strain stemming from the relief of finally arriving and stress over the tasks ahead, and the sensation of the soft mattress against her body after so many days of sleeping on the desert ground, sleep overtook Rarity before she could properly recognize the horrors of going to bed in a real, legitimate bed without attempting even the most minimal of maintenance.

She had only meant to take a quick nap, a couple of hours at most. Rarity’s body, however, thought it knew better, and when she finally arose, refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the day, well, the day was already mostly over. The world outside her window had grown dark, the last of the sun barely visible as the light posts lining the streets begun to flicker on. It was early evening, as far as Rarity could tell.

A disappointed sigh was released as Rarity sat up and got out of bed. She should have arranged a wake-up call with the receptionist or something, anything, to ensure that she wouldn’t oversleep. And now, thanks to her shortsightedness, her first day at the schools of magic was all but spent with nothing to show of it. Even if the library was still open at this time, she doubted there would be many students or staff around to help her find the material she needed, and the possible few that were there were probably too busy with their own studies or in no mood to provide her with any assistance.

The window was a poor mirror, but Rarity had to make do as she ran her hoof through her hair and combed out the tangles. Well, what was done was done, and wallowing around in self-pity and fretting about it wasn’t going to help, just like how her messy mane wasn’t going to fix itself if she just kept pouting at her faded reflection. She would head to the main campus building first thing tomorrow, but for now Rarity could at least make sure she was ready for the day ahead.

She gathered her things and gave them a more thorough cleaning. A quick look through her purse confirmed that she had more than enough to pay for the next four days at the Hag’s Haven, and it didn’t seem like there was anything missing or out of place, so the room was plenty secure. It was a nice place, and Rarity didn’t want to spend too much more time looking for somewhere to stay. She did wondered if the inn had a bathing area. Based on the place’s appearance, she doubted there’d be anything too sophisticated, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, and maybe someone knew of a bathhouse that was close by and open for business. It might just be a trip to the library, but Rarity still would’ve like to look presentable.

Her hoof brushed some of her last remaining rations, and her stomach let out a low growl, a small reminder that in going straight to sleep she had skipped a meal. There was a dining room downstairs, and it looked like Rarity had gotten up just in time for supper. Perhaps chatting up one of her fellow lodgers over a shared meal would yield some helpful knowledge, like some details on how the library was organized or who the nicest and most helpful librarian was and when were they most available, anything that might make her search easier on top of decent meal would be wonderful.

Rarity donned her cloak and started to put on her saddlebags when she remembered the closet. She was just going to get some dinner and maybe mingle with the other patrons, no need for any of her camping gear, so Rarity set her bags and supplies aside before heading toward the door. The cloak stayed on, however, as she remembered Sir Gustford’s warnings to keep her money and weapon close, and while Rarity didn’t think anything would happen, it was better to be safe than sorry. She kept the hood off though; no creature here seemed to be able to recognize Princess Shmarity by sight and those who did identify her didn’t have much of a reaction, so hiding her face didn’t seem worth the hood hair.

Waiting just outside Rarity’s door was Mr. Whispers, who greeted her with another soft mewl before getting up and heading down the hall and toward the stairs leading to first floor, the keys in his tail’s grip jingling as he walked. Rarity followed after the cat, and she soon herself back in the front lobby where the receptionist welcomed her with a smile. The number of cats around the fireplace seemed to have doubled.

“Good evening, dearie,” the mare with the graying mane said as she removed her pipe from her lips. “Everything to your liking, I hope.”

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” Rarity assured, returning the smile as she approached the desk. “I would like that room for three more days, please.”

“Of course, of course.” A number of gold coins and silver coins went from Rarity’s purse and into the hooves of the mare.

“And I’d like a wake-up call tomorrow morning if possible. Early, around seven preferably.”

“Oh, yes. That’s certainly something we can do,” the receptionist said. “We’ll send someone to wake you in the morning. And will there be anything else?”

“Well yes, actually. Is there some place nearby where I could take a bath?”

“Not this season, I’m afraid, my dear,” answered the mare with a frown that caused her wrinkles to deepen. The frown turned to a smirk as she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Most folk around here think they can get by with just magic, but it’s pretty obvious to any creature with a functioning nose. Prestidigitation is no substitute to good old lather and water.” She slapped her hoof hard against the desk and crackled. “Don’t worry. We’ll arrange a basin with water and soap and some washcloths to be sent to your room. Would you rather them in the morning or?”

“Could you possibly send them up after dinner, possible an hour from now?”

“Of course. Dining room is at the end of this hall. I can have someone bring you there, if you like.”

At the mare’s offer, several of the cats lazing about suddenly ran up to brush themselves against Rarity, causing her to nearly stumble and trip as they wrapped themselves around her legs. “I believe I can find on my own, thank you,” she said over the collective purring.

The receptionist nodded, and with a glare she dispersed the gathered felines. Rarity then made her way down the long, winding hallway she had been directed to, past several doors that possibly lead to other guest rooms and more of those cat pictures she had seen in the lobby. After a couple of turns, the hall opened up into a large room with several round tables and sets of chairs scattered about on the carpeted floor. One end of the room led to an outdoor patio illuminated by nests of fireflies where there were additional tables and stools. Most of the tables were unoccupied, so Rarity had no trouble finding an open seat, and the few guests who were here were just as casually dressed as she was, making her feel slightly less self-conscious about her own appearance. As she sat down at one of the empty tables, she wondered about the noise she had heard earlier today, when she had first arrived here. Now that Rarity thought about it, it sounded awfully busy for the early hour. Maybe it had just been some special occasion, but the difference in the apparent energy from then to now was still a curiosity. Something to spark a conversation with the few others in the dining room perhaps, but for now, Rarity was more interested in finding out what the menu that was propped up between a salt and a pepper shaker had to offer.

Dinner tonight was a choice between a savory pie of curried vegetable, a hearty autumn harvest stew with rice, or a plate of sautéed apples, potatoes, and cabbage. Below that was a list of appetizers including some roasted Brussels sprouts, a couple of salads, and baked and fried potatoes, and on the menu’s other side Rarity found a selection of mixed and blended punches, coffees, and teas as well as desserts like tarts and various fruit pies.

Feeling something against her leg, Rarity turned away from the menu and looked down. It was another cat, this one dressed with a bow tie around its neck and a tray on its back with a glass full of water. “Oh, thank you,” Rarity said, and she picked up glass and set it on the table. The cat did not leave its position, however, and just continued to stare up at her, which made it awkward for Rarity to take a drink.

“He’s waiting for you to order.”

Rarity looked to the table next to her, to the creature who had spoken in a voice that was oddly familiar, and blinked. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Twilight?”

32. In Search of Secrets

In Search of Secrets

“Hm?” The unicorn turned, giving Rarity a better view of her features and more reason to suspect that the mulberry mare in the purple cape was indeed the one and only Twilight Sparkle. It was the same face, the same flatly styled purple mane with streaks of rose and blue, the same violet eyes bright with intelligence and inquisitiveness. The only differences that Rarity could tell from a glance were that this mare had somehow grown a lengthy gray beard from the bottom of her chin, a feature Rarity was confident Twilight lacked, and was wingless, but then, Spike also had on ridiculous and impossible facial hair when Rarity saw him last while she herself was a unicorn without her horn, so such discrepancies weren’t entirely unprecedented. Perhaps physical changes like that just came with being pulled into these strange land and Rarity should have count herself lucky that she didn’t end up with a tacky goatee.

What could not be explained away was the complete lack of recognition on the mare’s face as she faced Rarity. Their eyes even met, and still there was nothing. The shine in Twilight’s eye whenever she’d see one of her close friends, even if it was as inconsequential as bumping into one of them while doing errands, was missing, and like that, Rarity started to spot more divergences in the appearances of her friend and this lookalike. The purple body was about a hair of a shade darker than Twilight’s, and the Twilight Sparkle Rarity knew was too young to have so many lines on her face and all that additional gray in her mane.

“You might want to decide on something soon,” not-Twilight said in Twilight’s voice. “Before—“

The cat in the bow tie let out a yowl as it leapt onto the table, digging its claws into the cloth and nearly knocking over the glass of water. Once all four paws were safely on the table, the cat walked over and batted at the menu.

“That. Before that,” the unicorn finished, shaking her head as the cat meowed impatiently.

“O-oh, right. Of course.” Rarity brought her attention back to the meal list, but after a few seconds of studying, she looked back to the bearded mare and saw that on her table was a partially eaten pie, its yellow and orange filling spilling out onto the plate. “Is there anything you would recommend? It’s my first time here, and I’m having a little trouble deciding.“

“It’s all pretty good, really, especially if you haven’t had any real homemade food in a while,” said the unicorn. “Though the curry pie is a bit heavy for my taste.” She raised a hoof to her lips as a muffled burp left them. “Excuse me. But yeah, I’d probably go with the apples and potatoes plate.” The unicorn paused to take a sip of sparkling red juice from a stemmed glass cup. “Mm, and if you’ve got the gold to spare, get yourself one of these. In fact, hey, get me another glass,” she said to the cat sitting on Rarity’s table before levitating up a dark bottle and giving it a shake in the air. “Plenty left to share,” she said, grinning.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I couldn’t.”

Their feline server had since returned with a new glass. “Sure you can,” the bearded mare said while she poured in the bottle’s contents, filling the glass with the same sparkling red liquid that was in her own cup. “Please, I insist. I’m in a bit of a celebratory mood over a long awaited promotion, and, I, ah, don’t have anyone to celebrate it with at the moment.” She sighed and took another sip from her own drink as the glass floated over to the other table and set itself right in front of Rarity.

“The sautéed apples, potatoes, and cabbage plate, please,” Rarity said to the cat in the bow tie who continued to yell out its impatience until her order was placed at last, and once the cat had strutted away, Rarity tried the gifted drink. It had a tart raspberry flavor with a noticeable hint of honey which resulted in a delectable blend of sour and sweet, and despite its cool temperature, the moment the drink passed through her throat and entered her stomach, Rarity’s body was filled with a pleasant warmth. “It’s quite good,” she said with a smile to the unicorn who had given her the sample. “And congratulations on your promotion. I’m sorry to hear that no one was available. What a terrible shame.”

The unicorn shrugged, but the indifference of the gesture was counteracted by the obvious distress in her sigh. “It’s not really any of their faults, the schools like to keep us busy. It’s always something or another up there, though that excuse can’t really apply to my old apprentice. The least he could do is respond to my sendings about the news. The whelp knows how hard I’ve been working to finally be in this position after all.” She started to sigh again when she suddenly frowned and reached into her cape to pull out a shield-shaped badge. On it was a star that was flashing red.

“And speaking of the schools keeping us busy,” the unicorn muttered as she stowed the badge away with an annoyed huff. “I can’t even finish a meal in peace.” She took out a cloth sack and, to Rarity’s surprise and disgust, shoved the leftover pastry and the bottle of juice right into it. “Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Rarity.”

“Elkraps Thigliwt.” The unicorn got up and dropped a couple of gold coins on the ground. Out from beneath the table extended a paw that quickly swept up the coins and pulled them behind the tablecloth. She started to leave but stopped to turn back to Rarity with a questioning look on her face. “Wait, did you say, ah, never mind.”

Elkraps the bearded unicorn gave Rarity one last nod before hurrying out of the dining room, nearly trampling over a serving cat in her haste. Despite all its hissing and the arching of its back, the tray the cat was carrying kept balanced, and its contents remained unsullied. Once it had calmed down, the waiter continued to Rarity’s table and presented to her a plate of caramelized apple slices and chunks of golden potato with large pieces of chopped cabbage leaves sprinkled through the dish, the scent of which caused Rarity’s mouth to water. Rarity picked up the utensils that accompanied the plate, and when the server had left her to eat in peace, she took her first bite.

It was as delicious as it smelled, the sweet gooey apple sauce going wonderfully with the soft potatoes. Certainly the best meal Rarity had experienced in a long time. As she ate and finished her drink, she kept her eyes and ears open to the rest of the dining room as it slowly started to fill with guests. Nothing came out of it, however, as the other diners kept to themselves and their parties too closely for Rarity to smoothly interject.

When she had finished, the server returned to pat on the menu once more, and when Rarity finally understood what the cat was trying to say, she decided to indulge in a cup of dark tea. Her check appeared while she was busy sipping away and nibbling at the cookie that came with the hot drink, and once she counted out the right amount and set her payment on top of the paper slip, Rarity left and headed back to her room, with Mr. Whispers suddenly appearing along the way and following closely behind her until she had reached her door.

There to welcome Rarity was the bowl of warm water the receptionist had promised her along with several washcloths, a towel, and a bar of soap. The bowl wasn’t big enough for her to take a bath in, but she supposed it was better than nothing and immediately got to work, soaking the cloths in water and covering them in soap to wipe down the rest of her body after she had finished washing her face and mane. It took some time and a lot of effort, but eventually Rarity was satisfied that she had gotten the last of the desert dust out of her fur.

It was still relatively early, the night still quite young, but Rarity, feeling warm and tired from her wash and thinking of little else that she could do at the moment, decided to go to bed once she had finished drying and brushing out her mane. Tomorrow was to be a busy day after all, and she had planned for an early start.

She awoke the next morning to the feeling of paws dancing on her face and to the sounds of loud purring, a familiar sensation to any owner of a pet cat, Rarity included. As she slowly sat herself up, she heard a meow and felt the mattress shift as something moved across it. Rarity found Mr. Whispers sitting at the base of the bed and staring right back at her when she opened her eyes. The cat mewed again and took off, escaping from Rarity’s view, and she heard the door slam closed behind him as she got out of bed.

Some creature had refilled the bowl with newly warmed water and had replaced the used towels. A few quick splashes against her face helped chase away her remaining grogginess, and once she had scrubbed off those dirty paw prints from her cheeks, fixed her mane, and put on her cloak and her saddlebags after storing away some of their contents like her camping gear in the room’s closet to lighten her load, Rarity was ready to go.

The lobby was dark and quiet when she arrived downstairs. The fireplace, cold and full of ash, had been abandoned by its feline audience now that the warmth it been providing was extinguished. A couple of cats could be found wandering around, but the desk was empty, and there was no sign of the receptionist anywhere to be found. It would’ve been nice to share a good morning and thank the mare for meeting all of her requests, though the means of the wake up call might need some discussion should she require another one, but with Rarity having no other business here and deciding that it would probably be faster to pick something up for breakfast along the way than to wait in the dining room that might not even be open at this early hour, she set off.

Rarity stepped out onto the streets in time to watch the remnants of a morning mist be banished by the rising sun. With the roof of the main campus building easily visible, Rarity quickly made it to the center of town where the cathedral stood, looking as majestic as the map had represented it. The area wasn’t exactly what she’d call bustling, but it was certainly busier here than it had been anywhere else Rarity saw on the way, with groups of creatures awake and walking about and a steady traffic moving in and out of the main building. There was even a line, albeit a moderately short one, at the small coffee shop where Rarity grabbed some tea and a blueberry scone.

When she had finished eating, Rarity continued into the building, past a pair of open double doors made of stained glass. Her first impression of the place was that it reminded her more of a town hall or a court house than an institution of learning. The white walls were all polished to the point of shining, giving the building an air of sterility. Echoes of footsteps and conversations rang out and were amplified as they bounced off the sides of the dome ceilings. Hallways splits in every direction, leading to rooms and more halls. Winding staircases led to raised platforms that jutted out of the walls, their edges guarded by railings to keep the creatures traversing them safe as they went through the doors on the upper floors.

At the front, where it was impossible to miss as one entered the building, there was a ringed desk. A set of four griffons in blue vests sat behind it and appeared to be directing the crowd surrounding them. Signs were posted on the walls with arrows and names, but Rarity figured she’d be better off asking for directions to the library than following the signs and risk getting lost while trying to find her own way through unfamiliar territory, so she got in line and waited for her turn.

“Alright, next!”

Rarity stepped up to the desk. The griffon before her appeared to be a young female, possibly still in her teens, but like with the mare from last night, there was a beard, a small one but one that still made Rarity wonder whether she was jumping to assumptions. Now that it was brought to her attention, she noticed that many of the creatures here had a graying beard of some length regardless of gender, age, or species.

“Welcome to the main campus hall,” the griffon said in a bored voice that was clearly feminine. She looked up from her talons that she had been filing to glance over her most recent guest. “Huh. Not a student, are you? Well, if you’re looking for a tour, you’re a couple of hours too early.” She tapped a claw on a sheet of paper taped to the desk’s surface right before her. On it was a series of times and events which included guided tours and a few publicly open seminars and lectures.

“As interesting as a tour of this place might be, I’m actually looking for the library,” Rarity explained. “Could you point me toward there, please?”

“The campus library isn’t open to the general public today,” the griffon said as she checked her claws. “I’m going to have to check your pass first to make sure I’m not wasting my time giving you directions.”

A more impulsive and emotional creature might have loudly slammed their provided roll of parchment on the table as a means of expressing their displeasure. Rarity resisted the childish urge and held her tongue as the young griffon sighed and unraveled the scroll, but she wasn’t above finding some slight enjoyment over the change in the griffon’s expression which slowly went from complete disinterested to surprise and confusion. She looked up at Rarity, then to her pass, then it was back to Rarity before she leaned to the side and nudged her coworker.

“What?”

“Hey, was there supposed to be some diplomatic thing happening today? Any bigwigs meeting up or visiting?”

“No, there’s nothing like that planned for today. Why?”

“Well.” Rarity’s pass exchanged claws. “We’ve got a princess here. No, really. That’s what it says. What are we supposed to do?”

The second griffon blinked unsteadily for a few seconds after studying the parchment, and she quickly sprung into action by grabbing grabbed their third. Soon, all four griffons were gathered around Rarity’s pass, flipping through a number of manuals and calendars and discussing the matter in nervous whispers as the lines around them stopped moving and the crowd grew larger, noisier, and more frustrated.

Rarity cleared her throat loudly over the rising din, getting the griffons’s attention. “I can’t say I completely understand what’s causing this delay—“

Well actually, from the bits and pieces of their conversation that Rarity managed to overhear, she had pretty idea about what the issue was but felt that it would be more expedient for every creature if she didn’t draw more attention to her problematic, royal alias.

“—but I’d truly appreciate it if I could get those directions to the library. I’m in a bit of a rush, you see, and I can see that you yourselves are all quite busy.” Rarity took a small step to the side, giving the group of griffons a better view of the increasing mob behind her. “So perhaps we could speed this up? Then I’ll be out of your manes, or rather feathers as it were, and you can get back to work.”

“Er, right. Library. Here.” The initial griffon returned Rarity’s pass and pointed her down one of the halls. “Head all the way until you hit the split at the wall. Take a right, and it’ll be the big set of doors at the very end. They’ll be signs around if you’re not sure, but it’s pretty easy to find.”

Rarity nodded. “Thank you,” she said and started toward the path she had been directed. It sounded as if the griffon had more to say, but when Rarity turned back to the desk and found it swarmed, she shrugged and continued on her way.

Finding the library was easy enough, the instructions she had been given were clear and simple and there was a sign right over the doors that read Library in bright, bold, and unmistakable text, but the length of the hallways meant that it took Rarity some time to reach the library’s entrance. She looked around and was a little surprised to see a lack of guards considering that access to this place was supposed to be limited, at least according to that griffon. Making sure that her pass was ready in case it was asked of, Rarity pushed aside the door and stepped inside.

Rows and rows of shelves all stuffed and stacked with books were the first to greet Rarity’s eyes. They stretching up to the roof and all the way to the back of the room, going as far as she could see. Lanterns hung from the ceiling and were attached the solid sides of the shelves and on top of the many study tables scattered around, most of which were unlit and unneeded as the morning light streamed steadily through the tinted glass roof above. Although it was still relatively early, the place was far from deserted, with creatures dressed in all manners of robes and capes and their beards in various stylings wandering between the shelves and sitting at the tables studying.

It was an impressive sight of an impressive collection for sure, but while Rarity could easily visualize Twilight, bibliophile that she was, squealing with glee and dancing in place out of excitement, she herself struggled to feel a fraction of that enthusiasm. You’ve seen one library, you’ve seen them all really, though Rarity would never say such blasphemy aloud and in front of her friend, lest she test Princess Sparkle’s capacity for banishment. If anything, the thought of having to go through all these heavy texts alone left her feeling cold.

Rarity shook herself and headed over to the desk out in front like the one that had been at the building’s entrance. Here too was manned by a quartet of creatures, four ponies to be exact of which two had coats that gleamed in the light like those from the Crystal Empire. Even more so in fact, almost as if those two were made entirely out of glass.

“Yes?” said one of the librarians, a bespectacled older mare with her mane held up in a neat bun, a more mundane, less shiny body and, of course, a gray beard.

“Ah, yes, good morning,” Rarity said, smiling politely. “I’m looking for information on a magical subject. Where can I find your books on necromancy?”

The mare lowered her glasses and stared at Rarity over their rims. “Really? And what, exactly, are you looking for?”

Rarity stumbled for an answer before blurting out an unhelpful, “Anything.” When the mare continued to stare, Rarity tried to explain, saying, “I’m afraid don’t really know what, exactly, I’m looking for. I honestly don’t know anything about the topic, but I need to learn as much as I can about it.”

The mare pressed her lips together tightly. “Let me see your pass.”

Again, Rarity gave away her pass. She prepared herself for a reaction similar to the one the griffons had had, but all she got out of the mare was a single raised eyebrow before the scroll was rerolled and returned. “Right this way, miss,” the librarian said with a gesture as she stepped out from behind the enclosure. “Or, er, Princess.”

“Miss is fine.” She followed the mare through the forest of shelves, their hooves barely making a sound against the laminated wooden floorboards. The silence was jarring when compared to the noise of the rest of the building, but it was appropriate for the setting.

After some time, they finally stopped before one of the many walls of books. The librarian cleared her throat and tapped her hooves together, and suddenly, the brass ladder attached to the shelf slid over to them. The sound of steps against the rungs could be heard echoing out, and the ladder shook as if weight was being applied to it, but Rarity saw no climber. One of the books near the top started to wiggle out, and once it had been freed away from its siblings, the book floated down onto the librarian back. They continued on then stopped at another section to repeat the process.

“Here you are, miss,” the mare said once they were finished. She held the collected books out toward Rarity, all three of them. At first, Rarity felt relieved that her search had been reduced to a mere two textbooks and an old looking journal, but that comfort turned to confusion, and confusion soon gave way to worry over whether it‘d be enough. The research process was definitely going be shorter and easier now, but with what was at stake, Rarity would have rather had more material to work with.

“Is this it?” she asked.

“Oh goodness no, of course not,” the mare answered with a sniff, as if Rarity’s inquiry had been a provocative insinuation. “But we wouldn’t want to immediately bury you beneath a hill of books, now would we? It’s a start, and if, for whatever reason, you still need more on this macabre topic, come talk to me or any of the other librarians. And if what we have here is still not enough, you’ll have to talk to the dean of necromancy to request access to their department.” When Rarity had taken the books from her, the mare motioned her to continue walking, and they got to one of the open study spaces.

“Now as you are not a student here, we cannot allow you to take any of our books with you. However, you are welcome to anywhere in the library for as long as you’d like, provided that you are not being a disturbance.” The mare in the glasses gestured to the tables and chairs, some which were already occupied by readers and note takers. “And again, if you require any further assistance, do not hesitate to ask for my colleagues or I or any of our simulacrums. Rest assured that they are just as capable as the original creatures they were based on.”

Then, with a short but polite nod of her head, the librarian walked off and left Rarity to find herself a vacant spot. There was another pony at the nearest available table, but the stallion had his snout so deep in his own book that he didn’t seem to notice Rarity when she took the seat across from him.

Rarity spread the gathered texts over her side of the table and frowned. Where to begin? She picked up the smallest of the books, the journal. This one, perhaps? Its lesser size would make it easier to get through. But wouldn’t the larger textbooks with their many, many pages be more likely to have the information Rarity needed? She tried to imagine herself as Twilight Sparkle, the same mare she had envisioned dancing around only a minute or so ago. What would a pony with an aptitude for research do in Rarity’s current shoes? She looked down at the covers before her.

“An Abridged Introduction to the Schools of Magic, Volume Four, Fifth Edition,” she quietly read aloud off of one of the textbooks. “Well, that sounds like a good a place to start as any.”

Rarity opened the book to where she hoped to find the table of contents. From there she flipped to the first page in the section on necromancy, skipping past the lengthy foreword, and began to read:

The School of Necromancy, the seventh of the eight great schools of magic, explores the cosmic forces of life, death, and undeath. Those who focus their studies on this tradition learn to manipulate the energy that animates all living beings. Such manipulation often requires the sapping and transformation of a being’s vital life force into magical power, a process that results in the destruction of the being’s body. As such and in conjunction with the school’s close association with death, necromancy as a magical art is feared and considered taboo in most societies, and even among some within the schools of magic, its usage has been frowned upon...

The image of Spike lying motionless on the floor before her kept popping into Rarity’s mind as she continued through the pages, and it got worse as the book went on to describe the creation and control of thralls made from corpses. She had only gotten through the first couple of chapters, but she had to stop and break and come to terms with what was being suggested. All that Rarity had read so far made necromancy seem to be just about making, ugh, zombies and raising the dead, so why would the Queen of Fey think this would help her save Spike and Discord unless they were—

Rarity shook her head furiously. No, that’s impossible. The very idea that Discord, a spirit of chaos, could be put down permanently was absolutely preposterous. And as for Spike, her precious Spikey-Wikey? It was just unthinkable, it just couldn’t be. Rarity went back to the book. Maybe there was something she missed which was causing her to misunderstand, or maybe she just hadn’t reached to the right section yet. Maybe it was just on the next page. No? Then the next book. Her eyes ran across line after line in a desperate search for something, anything to dispute those horrific implications.

It wasn’t until Rarity had finished flipping through the glossary of the second textbook to reveal the book’s blank back cover when she realized just how little she had learn. She tried to recall the words she read, and all she managed to get was a jumbled, meaningless mess. She couldn’t even remember what had been on the last couple of pages she had just gotten through. Rarity held her spinning head between her hooves and released her frustrations out in a sigh.

The exhaustive exhale got Rarity hushed by her neighbors. There were more of them now, and the stallion across from her had been replaced by a hippogriff. How long had she been at this. How much time had she wasted struggling with just these two textbooks? She looked around for a clock, and finding none, she looked up to see if she could spot the sun’s position through the glass ceiling.

No such luck. Rarity forcefully held in her sigh as she turned back to her books. She cracked open the third one, the smaller journal, and discovered that she couldn’t get past the first full page. The difficult to read script, the old style grammar and spelling, it was too much. Perhaps it was time for Rarity to try a different approach. She just didn’t have Twilight’s way with literature, but books weren’t the only resource here, and she’d surely have an easier time convincing a living creature to assist her than getting these lifeless collections of papers to give up their secrets, if they even had anything useful to her.

She gathered up the books and started to make her way back to the front of the library. From how those around her had reacted over a simple sigh, Rarity doubted any of them would be all that willing to help, and really, she should have thought of going to one of the librarians sooner.

As she moved through the library, Rarity noticed that the place had become significantly busier. There were a lot more creatures about, which forced her to carefully maneuver through a couple of crowded sections, and books were flying off and back on shelves almost constantly. Busier, yes, but not necessarily noisier as the studious solemn atmosphere was still maintain. With all the extra activity, it did take Rarity some time before she found her way back to the front desk which she saw had become just as lively as the rest of the library. Lines had formed as patrons waited to check out the books they had on their backs and in their appendages, and this increase in business was likely why there were two additional crystal ponies working behind the desk.

Rarity continued forward and was trying to determine which line would take the shortest amount of her time when she noted that one side of the desk that was significantly less crowded. Only one creature stood there chatting away with the librarian, a unicorn in stately red robes and an equally fine and similarly colored wizard hat that had a gold star ornament dangling from its tip, but no one dared approach them. Every creature here seemed to be giving the unicorn a wide berth, but if the expressions Rarity read on the faces around her were of any indication, it was out of respect and awe rather than due to fear or loathing.

The librarian speaking to the unicorn suddenly paused, and Rarity saw that the mare was the same pony who had assisted her earlier today. The bespectacled mare waved to Rarity and gestured her to hurry over. Not seeing any reason to refuse the call, Rarity approached the desk as carefully and respectfully as she could. The last thing she wanted was to offend this clearly important figure and get kicked out before she could find any answers.

“Ah, Miss Shmarity, how fortuitous,” the librarian said. “We were just about to send someone to get you.” The smile she had on was reassuring, and at the very least it didn’t seem like Rarity was in any trouble. The mare nodded to the unicorn. “Your diplomatic liaison is here.”

Rarity turned to the unicorn to find a very familiar face. The unicorn’s expression became one of surprise, but her smile quickly came back, and it returned twice as large.

“I thought your name sounded familiar. I really should have recognized it sooner, but then, I thought I must have misheard it in my rush.”

Rarity shrugged for a moment to come up with the name. “Oh! It’s, Elkraps, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, though with everything that’s going on, I think I should, ah, probably reintroduce myself properly.” The unicorn crossed a foreleg over her chest and bowed. “Elkraps Thigliwt, newly appointed dean of the school of evocation, at your service.”

33. The Lost Apprentice

The Lost Apprentice

As she sat down in the offered plush chair, Rarity took the opportunity to look around the office that she had been taken to, and it was as if she had been brought to a smaller, more personalized library. Carved into the walls were shelves loaded with numerous books and scrolls along with a collection of odd trinkets including various colored beads, an ornate dagger, a twisted and blackened branch, and several diamonds and gems, all of which were safely behind a protective sheet of glass. Additional tomes as well as a couple of quills, some inkwells, and a tall stack of papers held down by a decorative ivory pony statuette sat upon the desk in front of her, and behind the desk and its accompanying throne there was a large window that provided a grand view of the town below. A wooden perch was in the corner of the room, right where the windowsill ended, and upon it roosted a snowy white owl that seemed to follow Rarity’s every movement. There were a few other pieces of furniture here, a couple of coffee tables, a dresser and a wardrobe, some chairs from the same set as the one Rarity was currently settled in, almost all of which had been shoved against the walls to make space for the massive soot ring that was on the very center of the room’s carpeted floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” Dean Elkraps said. The unicorn smiled bashfully as she lowered her head and pointed her glowing horn at black circle. She muttered something under her breath, and gradually, the ash began to vanished, disappearing section by section until the carpet was back in a completely pristine condition. As Elkraps walked over to her seat and straightened the entire contents of her desk with but a nod, Rarity couldn’t help but feel an envious pang.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet foreign royalty on my first day as a dean. Especially not from anywhere as far as Spiketopia. I think the last time we had dignitaries of your standing from the northern lands was nearly a century and a half ago. She started to take a seat. “Oh! Uh, would you like some tea or anything? I’m pretty sure I’ve got a kettle around here somewhere.” Elkraps’s horn lit up again, and suddenly the room’s airspace was filled with floating random objects. “Any preferences? Black? Green? Milk or sugar?”

Rarity ducked down as a tin box and a tea set soared over her head. “Anything is fine, thank you.”

“Oh. Good, good.” Elkraps tittered nervously as she shook the empty box. “Because I’m out of leaves, so plain hot water it is. Ooh boy.” Letting out a stressed breath, the unicorn filled a small pot with water from a blue decanter and set the pot on the desk where it burst into flames. “Normally one of our diviner would have pick this sort of thing up, and we’d have had plenty of time to prepare, but it seems like they’ve missed you.” She poured the steaming water into two china teacups and placed one right in front of Rarity.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Elkraps said as she gently blew down on her own cup. “So, what brings the princess of Spiketopia to the schools of magic unannounced? I don’t usually pay much attention to outsider ongoings, I probably wouldn’t even have recognized your name in the first place if I hadn’t heard it so many times already, but my apprentice is currently wasting his talents adventuring up in the north, and he’s told me many stories about his time in your country.” She tried to take a sip and winced as the still scalding beverage brushed against her lips. “Ahem, er, something about a magic squid taking over the land and him having to join forces with a former blackguard and a captain of some unspecified organization to rescue the, hm, princess.”

Elkraps’s eyes lingered on Rarity with a pensive look in them as she hesitated, but the unease Rarity thought she saw on her host’s face quickly disappeared when the unicorn shrugged and returned to her drink. “Maybe you’ve heard of him. The way Garbunkle talks about his time in Spiketopia makes it sound like he’s some sort of huge hero up there, but he’s always been pretty full of hot air. Most dragons are, in my experience, but him being so young doesn’t exactly help with that.”

“Garbunkle.” The moment the name left Rarity’s tongue, her mind was flooded with images of Spike in those wizard robes and hat with a crooked staff held in his claw and a beard covering his adorably chubby cheeks. The last image that flashed by was of him being dropped onto the hard stone castle floor, his body unresponsive to her cries as the crackles of the tentacled villain rang out.

“I see.”

The quiet statement that was followed by a sharp intake of air returned Rarity to the present. Her discomfort must have shown as Elkraps, with a grim expression creeping over her features, set down her teacup and tapped her hooves together. “I wasn’t sure what to think when he didn’t respond to my sendings. I just figured, maybe, the spell just didn’t go through, that there was just some arcane interference in the way.” She started to slump back in her seat, but seeing Rarity before her, the unicorn forced herself to sit back up. “Do you, could you, could you tell me what happened? Please?”

Rarity bit her lip. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know how it exactly happened. I was, a captive of the Squid Wizard, and one day, I was brought out of the tower...” She continued on to describe how she was taken into the castle keep, how the Squid Wizard made his boasts and dropped the bodies of Spike and Discord before her from a light in the ceiling. She tried to keep her voice steady, tried to keep it from shaking, but the pain that Elkraps couldn’t completely keep from showing on her face made the memory so much more difficult to relive. It wasn’t Twilight Sparkle in the seat right across from her, but seeing a face so similar to hers, bearded or not, twisting with the distress that came with losing a loved one hurt Rarity all the same.

When Rarity finishes her retelling up until her sudden inexplicable escape, her sole audience member was visibly drained. She downed the contents of her teacup in a single swig and let the cup fall with a loud clatter against its saucer. “Well then,” she began slowly, “I suppose, at least he, succeeded in saving you, in the end. Excuse me for a moment.”

Elkraps turned her chair around, and by the reflection in the window, Rarity could see the unicorn covering her face with her hooves. A heavy sigh filled the room and lingered in the air for several long seconds before Elkraps went quiet. She eventually turned back around to face Rarity with her lips curved into a forced little smile. It was a look Rarity recognized, the same kind of artificial smile she and all professionals knew to put on when dealing with that one particularly difficult customer, a mask of politeness to hide the all those true negative feelings.

“Sorry about that.” Elkraps cleared her throat before continuing. “Ahem. Well, thank you for letting me know of Garbunkle’s fate, but I doubt you would come all this way yourself justo be the bearer of bad news. I mean, being the princess and all, you must be very busy right now getting Spiketopia back up and running now that this Squid Wizard’s been taken care of.”

“Ah. Yes, well, we’re not quite in that sort of position at the moment,” Rarity awkwardly explained. “The Squid Wizard hasn’t exactly been taken care of yet, as you so put it.”

“Oh.” The fake smile faded into a grimace. “I see. I just thought, I mean, you’re here and, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No no, that’s quite alright, and, ah, it‘s actually the reason why I am here.”

“Oh?” Elkraps mouth opened slightly for a short moment before her lips pressed together into a deep frown. “I see. Well, if this is about using the schools to take back your country, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t a whole lot I can do to help you. The schools have a pretty strict policy against meddling with the affairs of outsiders. The schools as an entity, I mean,” she clarified. “We can’t help you in any official capacity, but you’re welcome to try recruiting individuals to your cause as long as we don’t get any complaints about it. Every creature here is free to do as they wish, and heaven knows we’ve got plenty of youngsters that’d love to give the adventuring life a try, especially from my school. I guess there’s not really a whole lot of practical uses for throwing out fireballs and bolts of lightning beside the, well, most obvious.”

Elkraps smiled. It was a subdued little smile, but at least the bit of embarrassment behind it was genuine. “Um, anyways, as I was saying, if you want to form an army of mages to help you reclaim Spiketopia, you can go right ahead. Just know that as a dean, I‘m not allowed to help you with that.”

Rarity entertained the idea of leading a charging mob of robed and bearded creatures as bright beams of colorful light were being shot over the horizon for a couple of seconds before shaking the fantasy out of her head. “That’s an, interesting plan, but it’s not why I’m here. I actually came here to learn about necromancy.”

“Oh?” Elkraps blinked in surprise. “Huh. I didn’t think that term was all that well known outside of the schools and a number of select cults, but it would explain why you had Master Ordan’s personal recordings of his own first accomplishments. It’s a pretty dry read, not exactly the most entertaining autobiography out there, but it’s an interesting perspective. Of course, that still leaves me with one huge question.” The unicorn leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why would a princess whose far and distant land is currently in dispute be looking into the art of necromancy of all things?”

The sudden display of suspicion by Elkraps was a small shock to Rarity, and she remembered what she had read about necromancy being the sort of subject that most seemed to avoided. She took some time to consider how she would go about satisfying Elkraps’s inquiry before deciding that it would probably be best to stick to the truth.

“I was told that if I want to save Spi—, er, Garbunkle, along with the rest of my friends, I needed to come, well, not to the schools of magic exactly, but to the south, and that I would need to find information on necromancy, thought at the time I had no idea what that was, and to be completely honest I’m not sure if I really understand it now.”

Elkraps stared at her for a moment longer before she placed her hooves onto the desk and pushed herself back into her chair. “Hm, interesting,” she said with a curious frown on her face. “Well, whoever told you that must have a twisted sense of salvation, because I really wouldn’t call turning Garbunkle into a soulless rotting husk driven by hunger and hated toward the living ‘saving.’”

Just hearing the suggestion made Rarity queasy, and she had to cough to hide her gag. “I assure you ma’am, that was never my intention. I didn’t mean, I thought, I had no idea.”

“Oh no, I believe you,” Elkraps said, nodding as she frowned and stroked a hoof through her beard. “You don’t seem like that kind of pony, but can you tell more about the one who put this insane idea in your head in the first place?”

Again, Rarity hesitated. The involvement of her mysterious benefactor had been a secret solely between her and the powerful being since the very beginning. Every one of her recaps of the events that started this whole messy adventure had omitted her oneiric encounter with the Queen of Fey. She had kept it from Elder Woods and Huntress, from the leadership of Horshire, from Sir Gustford, from every other creature largely out of the uneasy uncertainty over how they would react if they were to learn that her entire plan was based upon something that came to her in a dream.

The uncertainty was still there, but it didn’t seem like she could get any further by staying quiet. Rarity took a deep breath and a chance and started to tell Elkraps about the Queen of Fey and her message. The few requests Rarity received for more descriptions on certain details as she tried to recall that distant vision were encouraging, it meant that the unicorn was listening and hadn’t just completely disregarded Rarity and her experience as crazy nonsense, but Elkraps’s face was locked in a contemplative sternness that made it impossible to determine how or what she was feeling.

The several seconds after Rarity had finished speaking were quiet as Elkraps continued to appear to be deeply lost in thought, her gaze focused on something beyond the mare sitting right across her. The silent seconds added up to a minute and would haves continued to stretch on had Rarity not cleared her throat and gotten the unicorn’s attention.

“Sorry about that,” Elkraps said as she shook herself and straighten her posture. “I was, it’s a lot to take in, and I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but, ah, did that make any sense to you or have you heard or read anything about this Queen of Fey?” Rarity asked. “During my journey, I’ve only managed to find fairytales whenever I tried looking into it.

“That’s not too surprising. The fair folk are a very secretive sort, they make the schools of magic seem like an open public forum by comparison.” Elkraps frowned. “We do deal with Fey at the schools, summoning otherworldly creatures to act as familiars is actually one of the earlier lessons in magic that we teach here.” At this, she looked to the owl in the corner. “But it’s very rare even for the headmasters to be contacted by a member of a Fey court, and even then I think the highest rank we’ve ever received was a lesser prince.” She paused to let out a small, tuneless hum before getting up and walking over to the shelves of books. “This queen of yours,” she said as she slid away the glass and started to search along the book spines, “did they say which court they were from or what their full title was? I think I have notes on famous archfeys here somewhere. Ugh, why didn’t I have unseen servant prepared today?”

“They didn’t. The queen, I mean,” Rarity explained. “They just called themselves the Queen of Fey with no mention of any court or anything else.”

“Hm. The Queen of Fey. The Queen of Fey. No, I’m pretty I’d have remembered a title that brazened if I had ever seen it before.” Elkraps returned to her seat. “I don’t think it would’ve been a lesser Fey creature playing a trick on you, impersonating royalty would be an easy way to draw an actual king or queen’s displeasure. An illusion spell maybe, I recall there being one that lets you manipulate dreams, though why would someone, wait.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, you said, you said that they left their symbol with you, right? As in something physical that you could actually touch?”

Rarity nodded.

“And you have it on you right now?”

She nodded again.

“May I?”

Rarity reached into her cloak and pulled out the silver snowflake the Queen of Fey had given her. She removed its chain from her neck and, after a brief hesitation, carefully placed the pendant in Elkraps’s hoof. The unicorn brought it toward her for a closer look when suddenly her owl started to screech and hiss.

“Archimedes? What in the world are you—“

The bird continued to scream, its curved beak open and wings fully extended as Elkraps tried to approach. The owl launched itself past Elkrap’s shoulder and into the window. The glass shook as the owl flew into it with a wince-inducing thud that sent out a cloud of feathers into the air.

“Well that was, um, odd.” Elkraps walked over to the window, and after inspecting it, she wiped away the smudge that had been left on the glass. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Oh my goodness!” Rarity exclaimed. She looked along the floor, but the bird’s body could not be found. “Is your owl going to be alright?”

“Hm? Oh yes, don’t worry about Archimedes. He just needs some time to calm down from, whatever that was.” Elkraps picked up one of the fallen feathers and put it on her desk. She then walked back over to the shelves in the walls and returned with a sizable pink pearl that fit comfortable in the base of her hoof. As she arranged the pearl and the feather in front of Rarity’s silver pendant, one of the books on the desk hopped over to her and flipped open. Elkraps looked down at the book, and when she had finished muttering a few indecipherable sounds, the pearl started to glow.

“This could take a while,” she said with a quick glance at Rarity.

“Should I come back later then?”

“Huh? Oh, no. You’re not going to have time to go anywhere or really do anything. I just wanted to let you know that this ritual will take a bit of time. Just give me a few minutes, and we can get back to business.”

And so Rarity sat and waited for what felt far longer than just a few minutes. Not wanting to distracting the mage or interrupt her ongoing ritual, Rarity tried to keep still and quiet. Her eyes wandering through the room again in an attempt to stave off boredom, and she saw that the owl had returned to its perch, its steely gaze fixed on the Queen of Fey’s symbol. The pearl eventually stopped glowing, and Elkraps took the feather off the pendant and exhaled deeply.

“Wow, that’s a, wow.” She slowly picked the symbol up by its chain and gave it back to Rarity. “There’s some powerful magic in there, stuff I’ve only read about,” she said. “It definitely feels Fey in nature, and the magic it would have required to make this would have had to come from an extremely powerful archfey.”

Rarity put the pendant back around her neck. “So then, um, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand how knowing this helps me at all.”

“Right, right. I should explain,” said the unicorn as she stood up and started to pace, reminding Rarity further of Twilight. “So as knowledgeable as we from the schools might appear be, our understanding of magic pales to what some of the otherworldly creatures know. I mean, there are Celestials and Fiends and, yes, Fey out there that have been around since the dawn of magic itself, and Fey have a particularly strong connection to the Weave from which most usable magic is drawn from. If the being that told you that necromancy would help you save Garbunkle was powerful enough to just give you that,” she said, gesturing to the silver symbol that was dangling over Rarity’s front, “well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew more about necromancy magic than I would if I were to suddenly switch schools and spend the rest of my life studying the subject. Those scrolls of Valmeyjar that were mentioned, for instance. That’s a name I’ve never heard of.”

“Then, do you think the Queen of Fey was telling the truth?” Rarity asked.

Elkraps snorted. “The Fey have a funny relationship with the truth. They can say one thing while mean something different entirely without considering it lying. A lot of them are tricksters, and I can’t say for certain that this isn’t just some twisted, elaborate fairy prank. On the other hoof, giving you such a powerful item seems over the top for a practical joke even by Fey standards. There aren’t any curses attached to it, and I see there’s only one charge left, so you’ve must have already used it a couple of times without experiencing any major ramifications.”

“Well, the first time I used it landed me in a puddle of mud, so I wouldn’t say there weren’t any negative consequences,” Rarity said with a slight grumble. “So then, where does knowing all this leave us?”

Elkraps stopped her pacing. She tapped her chin in a thoughtful manner for a few moments before answering. “It means that the advice this so called Queen of Fey gave you is at least worth looking into. I’ll talk to someone from the school of necromancy and see if I can get you to meet with a specialist. In my new position, it shouldn’t be too difficult to do, but it will still take some time to get everything arranged. How long are you planning on staying at the schools?”

“As long as I need to, though I only have enough funds for maybe a couple of weeks of lodging.”

“It won’t take that long, you’ll be fine. And, uh, oh!” Elkraps went to the shelves, and from them she removed a small wooden box which she brought back to her desk and to Rarity. The lid of the box was lifted away to reveal a pair of matching red stones with faces painted on them. “Here,” Elkraps said, putting one of the stones into Rarity’s hoof. “I’ll be able to contact you through this. Please, please don’t lose it,” she pleaded. “This is my last set of sending stones since Garbunkle broke the one I gave him, and I haven’t had the chance to get replacements. Oh, and it is two way, but I’d appreciate it if you refrained from contacting me if it’s not an emergency since it only works once a day. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated regularly.”

Rarity carefully put the stone into her saddlebags. “Thank you, Dean Thigliwt, for everything.”

“The pleasure was mine, Princess Shmarity.” Elkraps extended a hoof, and Rarity shook it. “I really do hope this works out. Garbunkle was a good apprentice and a wonderful friend. When he told me that he wanted to take a break from his studies to be an adventurer, I thought, I thought I was prepared for the worst. I know how dangerous the life of an adventurer can be, but actually hearing it was, difficult.” She sighed, and with a gesture to the door, she led the way back to the front entrance of the main campus building. “Until we meet again, which hopefully will be sooner rather than later.”

And after they had shared one final wave, the two mares went their separate ways, with Elkraps Thigliwt heading deeper into the building and possibly back to her office while Rarity, having no further business here, walked past the ringed help desk at the front and left by the same pair of doors she had entered through.

Stepping outside, Rarity found the city in a far busier state than it had been earlier this morning. The crowd outside had grown as had the traffic moving in and out of the domed building. Many of the nearby stores had their doors propped open with welcome signs and displays of what was for sale. The gonging of multiple clocktowers scatter all about town suddenly rang out and drew Rarity’s attention to the closest one to her. Ten o’clock read the hands of the giant timepiece, just two hours before noon.

Rarity found herself a bench and sat down. The moment she started to relax, she released a sigh that was an equal mix of relief and exhaustion. Rarity hadn’t been sure how long her search would take her, but she definitely did not think it was going to be wrapped up before lunchtime. Granted, she didn’t exactly have all her answers through her fortuitous meeting with Elkraps, but more had probably been accomplished in those few short hours than Rarity could have gotten done alone in an entire day. And then there was the emotional roller coaster she had just gotten off of. Rarity wasn’t sure how to feel right now, debilitating sorrow over the untimely and unimaginable demise of her friends, desperate hope and relief for the possibility that Spike and Discord could still somehow be save, or utter amazement that said possibility, if Rarity was correctly interpreting the implications, involved the mad task of bringing the dead back to life?

A major headache was starting to form. Rarity loudly sighed again, letting out some of the stress that was bubbling up inside her as her mind struggled and failed to make sense of it all. Oh how she wished she had her friends with her. She wasn’t sure if any of them would have understood this any better than she had, but at least the confusion would have been shared amongst good company.

With one last sigh, Rarity left the bench and started making her way back to the Hag’s Haven. She would have to figure out what to do for the rest of the day and beyond now that Elkraps was taking care of matters, but that would have to wait. Right now all Rarity felt capable of doing was returning to her room and finishing her breakdown in private.

34. Change of Address

Change of Address

One would think that coming to terms with the deaths of close friends along with a plan to pervert the sacred order of life and death would have taken more than a few hours. Rarity certainly thought so, and so it was very much to her surprise when she lifted her head out of the pillow she had been screaming her grievances and frustrations into, right up until she finally exhausted herself and fell asleep, feeling refreshed and far better about her situation. She still went cold whenever she thought about a lifeless Spike, but the warmth that came with the hopeful possibility that his current grave wasn’t to be a permanent one balanced it out and left her content. Even the profane act of bringing the dead back to life, if that’s what it took to save Spike and Discord, was bothering her less. After all, if Elkraps Thigliwt didn’t seem all that perturbed by the concept, why should she?

It was an odd feeling and even a bit worrying, this sudden acceptance. Rarity was reminded of how disturbingly quick she had gotten over taking lethal action and looting bodies, and like with those previous times, her unease was starting to fade even as she was recognizing it. How long had Rarity been away from home? It was a couple of months now at least, blurring by before Rarity had even realized that they were gone. Had she simply acclimated to this strange and dangerous environment during all that time or was this more of Princess Shmarity’s influence? Well whatever the reason, perhaps it was just as well. Rarity couldn’t even begin to imagine what would be required of her once Elkraps had gotten hold of their necromancy expert or how she’d be able to help, but she doubted that being distracted by such questions on the rights and wrongs would have helped matters, and there would be plenty of time to reflect once everyone was back in Equestria, safe and sound.

For now, Rarity’s most pressing matter was getting herself something to eat, the last of the scone she had had for breakfast having been spent in her coping hysterics. She checked her appearance in the window and did what she could to make herself presentable before heading downstairs where she was greeted by the gray maned receptionist and her many cats. Finding the dining room too crowded for her liking, Rarity left the inn and wandered the streets until she settled on a small cafe that still had some open tables, and there she had a garden salad.

After lunch and with nothing else planned for today, Rarity decided to explore and see what else the city had to offer. More of those illusionary maps she had first encountered with Tariq and Alharir and the rest of their group could be found on nearly every other street side, so Rarity was free to walk around aimlessly without any fear of being unable to find her way back to the Hag’s Haven. She let her eyes roam the windows of the stores and let her curiosity take her to any place that had managed to drawn a crowd. Her coin purse saw little action, however, as Rarity had no need for the crystal shards or rods or any of the other items she saw being sold, but that was fine. It was just a nice way to unwind after everything she had gone through to get to this point, to do something as inconsequential as window shopping without having to worry about making any travel preparations, and when she tired of walking, Rarity took a break to watch the locals go about their business instead, watching in wonder as pegasi and earth ponies, some caped, others robed, all bearded, floated their belongings around as easily as any unicorn could have.

The day eventually came to an end, and Rarity returned to the inn in time for dinner, which was a rich, creamy cheese and broccoli casserole that she enjoyed outside on the veranda. The nocturnal songs of woodlands serenaded her as she ate despite them being in the middle of a large city, and when she had finished her meal, Rarity stayed to enjoying the fresh evening air for a little while longer before going back inside to turn in early. And as always, Mr. Whispers was there waiting to guide her back to her room after Rarity had informed the receptionist that there would be no need for a second early wake up call.

She awoke the next morning to an annoyingly high pitched buzz coming from her saddlebags. The noise was coming from the stone Elkraps had lended her, the painted face face pulsing with a red glow, and the moment Rarity’s hoof brushed against it, she heard the unicorn’s familiar voice speak out to her.

To Princess Shmarity. Good morning. Nothing new to report. Will be unavailable for any in-person meetings today. Let me know if there is anything urgent.

The message ended, but the stone continued to buzz as it waited for Rarity’s reply.

Good morning, Dean Thigliwt, she spoke in silent thoughts with the stone pressed against her forehead, her best guess to how this item operated. It’s wonderful to hear from you. I can think of no pressing concerns at this time, but thank you. If there

The stone became still and stopped glowing before the thought could be finished, and Rarity could only hope that her response made it to Elkraps. It was like that time at the desert oasis when she had received a similar mental message from Sir Gustford, and with that memory came a reminder of the promise Rarity had made to him just before the Merry Landing had left the port. She was supposed to contact the old griffon as soon as she made it to the schools safely. Understandably, there was a lot on Rarity’s mind when she first arrived, but now she really had no excuse. Well, better late than never, and at least it gave Rarity an object for today.

The lobby was noticeably more lively this morning, most likely due to the later hour, with guests walking through or lounging about in on the provided furniture as their usual feline occupants glowered at them. At the front desk, the receptionist was chatting away with one of the guests, an old stallion with a back hunched with age, and Rarity waited for their conversation to finish before she approached.

“Oh, ‘ello there, dearie,” said the mare as the stallion limped away, still chuckling from whatever they had been discussing. “Did you sleep alright? Anything I can do for you?”

“I did, thank you, and yes, there is something I’d like your help with. Do you know of any place in town where I can send a message? I need to get in touch with an acquaintance back in Spiketopia. Oh, and um.” Rarity lowered her voice. “Would it be possible to get this cleaned here?” She tugged at the front of her traveler’s cloak.

“Well, you can probably find a student at the main building who’d be willing to help for a low price,” the mare answered with a hum. “Sending is a pretty darn useful spell so there’s a good chance you’ll bump into someone there with it prepared. They might even be so desperate for the practice that they’ll do it for free. Of course, since they’re not going to know this acquaintance of yours, there’s no way of guaranteeing that your message will make it to ‘em. You’ll have a better chance at, uh, there’s this place that’s pretty much built for this kind of thing, sending messages. If you can describe your friend and where they are, they’ll have an easier time getting the sending through, the more details the better. It’s not perfect, and it’s pretty pricey, but if you really need to get that message out, that’ll probably be your best bet.”

“And this is where in town?”

“Hold on now, give me a sec,” the receptionist said with a sigh. “Haven’t had to go down there in a good while now.” She looked to the two ponies on the couch. “Hey fellows, where’s that one place with all the, uh, senders?”

“Senders? You mean the messengers, yeah?”

“No no, they’re called senders if they’re of the Fine Copper Company. The messengers are from BCWired. There’s two of them now,” the pony explained. “BCWired got started some years back by hiring mostly youngsters. Weren’t as reliable but a heck of a lot cheaper, least at first. These days though, there’s not a whole lot of difference between the two if you ask me.”

“Thanks.” The receptionist turned back to Rarity. “Well, there you have it, dearie. I don’t know enough about ‘em to give you directions, I’m afraid, but those maps you probably seen around the city can guide you better than I could.”

Rarity nodded. “Thank you miss. And to you as well,” she added toward the ponies on the couch before turning back to the mare at the front desk. “And what about, ah, this?” she asked with a motion to her cloak.

The mare leaned forward and, much to Rarity’s chagrin, sniffed at the cloth. “Well again, there’s bound to be someone around the main campus building who’d love to make a little bit of pocket money. Now if you actually want it washed, you know, with actual soap and water, you can just leave it folded up at the base of your bed tonight with a silver coin on top, and it’ll be ready by the time you wake up. Be a shame, though,” she added with another sniff. “That smell gives it character. I’d hate to wash out all that history, but it’s your choice.”

Rarity thanked the receptionist once more and left the inn. It did not take her long to find a map, and from there it was the simple matter of repeating the names of the businesses and deciding on the one that was most convenient. Minutes later, Rarity found herself in front of the building the map had shown her. The place was a simple structure with nothing that made it stand out from its neighbors other than its sign, which depicted scrolls with shiny bronze wings. Seeing that the place was open for business, Rarity went inside.

In the back of the room there was a counter being operated by a trio of ponies, two unicorns and a blonde pegasus, in beige uniforms that made her think of the mail ponies back in Ponyville, and behind them was a wall of racks that held coils of copper wire. A couple of benches with small notepads and pens was in the room’s center at which some customers were busy writing. Others stood in the line that extended from the counter, and Rarity observed that there were a few who carried slips of paper.

Rarity got in line, and after an incredibly long wait for how few many creatures stood in front of her, it was her turn to approach the counter. “Welcome to the Fine Copper Company,” greeted her pegasus attendant. Her bright and bubbly smile faltered a bit. “Um, ma’am? Is something the matter?”

“O-oh! No, it’s nothing, nothing at all.” The strange sense of familiarity was gone. Rarity cleared her throat. “Ahem, yes. I would like to send a message to a friend up in Spiketopia.”

“Um, okay then. Yes, I can help with that,” the pegasus said, nodding her head eagerly. “So, to Spiketopia, that’s still in the material plane so, um, that’s going to be fifty gold. But if we can’t reach your friend, we’ll give you back half of that. But, but don’t worry, we almost never fail.”

Rarity frowned. She had been warned that going to the professionals were going to be pricier than finding some random magic novice off the street, but after hearing that not so reassuring assurance Rarity wondered if the supposed reliability was worth it. She pulled out her purse and took a quick count. Well, fifty gold wasn’t an insignificant amount of money, but she would still have plenty left afterwards. She wondered, could the other business give her a better deal? Probably not, that pony did say the two were about the same.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh, er, sorry.” Rarity set required coins on the counter and waited for the pegasus to finish counting them.

“Okay, great!” The pegasus took out a square of paper. “Now what can you tell about the creature we’re sending this message to? Name, appearance, where they live and what they do? Anything will help, but we’ll have an easier time making contact the more information you can give us.”

“He is a griffon named Gustford who last I knew of resided in Baldursgait.” Rarity paused to think. “His full name is Sir Gustford the Gilded Claw of the Stormslayers, a knight of Spiketopia, but he is currently working as an adventurer. As for his appearance, he has several scars and burns on his face.” She swallowed and forced herself to continue, pushing past her discomfort. The more details the better. “He, he is missing his wings,” she said softly.

The mare continued to ask questions pertaining to Gustford’s appearance and history, some of which Rarity struggled to answer even with all of Princess Shmarity’s memories at her disposal. At least now she understood why she had to wait for so long, if this was what everyone had to go through before their messages could be sent. “So that’s Sir Gustford the Gilded Claw of the Stormslayers from Baldursgait, that’s a city, right?” the attendant finally said. “And it’s in Spiketopia, where he’s a knight and now an adventurer. A griffon without wings. Does all that sound right to you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” The pegasus put down her pen and got two new clean sheets of paper, then went over to the wall of wires and grabbed a piece. “Now do you have your message already written down?” she asked when she returned to the counter. “It’s okay if you don’t. You can just tell me what you want to him to know, and we’ll make sure he knows.”

“First, make sure he knows that it’s from Princess Shmarity. Then, let him know that I am safe at the schools of magic and have met somepony who I believe will be able to help me find a way to save the heroes.” Rarity took a second to think of anything else that needed to be added. “And that will be all.”

“Princess Shmarity, safe at schools of magic. Made connections that’ll help save heroes,” the pegasus mare read slowly. “Okay, so if that’s everything, let’s get started.” She picked up the piece of wire and placed it against her forehead. As she started to mutter, the wire’s tip stood up and started to spark. She nodded, and with pen in mouth, she began to write something down.

“Okay, so Sir Gustford got you message, and this is his response.” The pegasus slid the paper slip in front of Rarity. “He felt happy that you were safe but was also worried about something.”

Good to hear, the paper read in some surprisingly neat writing. Stay vigilant. The mage I hired to contact you last time disappeared. Might be coincidence, might have been a spy. Be careful.

“Is that all of it?” Rarity asked. She flip the slip over to check its back only to find it blank.

“Yep! I heard that the school of evocation was trying to improve the spell so that it could fit fifty words instead of twenty five, but that was a while ago, so I guess they got bored with that.” The pegasus giggled and shrugged. “So, is there anything the Fine Copper Company can do for you, maybe another message you want to send somewhere?”

Rarity started to refuse, her business here having been concluded, but stopped herself as an idea slowly took form. “How far can you send a message?”

“Oh, anywhere really,” was the pegasus’s answer. “The only problem is getting the message to the right person. Um, and making contact with anyone in the inner and outer planes is a little more difficult and expensive, so there is that. Otherwise, it’ll be another fifty gold.”

The gold promptly made its way across the counter. “I need you to send a message to Twilight Sparkle of Equestria. She’s the princess of friendship, a purple alicorn—“

“Uh, a purple ali-what now?”

“An unicorn with wings like a pegasus. A little taller than myself. She has a violet mane with strips of magenta that she could do so much with if she bothered styling it. Her tail is similar, same color, same simple style, all straight, neat, and tidy.” Rarity sighed. “It’s all very much her, but honestly, sometimes I wish she’d put a little more effort into her appearance.”

Her portrayal of Twilight continued on unprompted, and pretty soon Rarity was caught up in a storm of nostalgic reminiscing as she supplemented her description with increasingly specific examples. “O-oh, um, okay,” the pegasus at the counter eventually interjected. “Um, and where did you say she was from again?”

“Equestria, in the town of Ponyville. At least, that’s where she lives. Will there be an issue if she isn’t there when we send the message?”

“Well, it’ll make it more difficult to get the message to her, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for. A purple unicorn with wings named Twilight Sparkle, princess of friendship.” The pegasus readied her pen. “Othay, whaff fe meffade?”

“Let her know that it’s Rarity and that I’m well but confused as to how I ended in some foreign land called Spiketopia. Currently, I’m at a place called the schools of magic, which hopefully she or Starlight have come across before in their studies. Anyways, tell her that I’m currently in the process of saving Spike and Discord, and we will be returning home as soon as Discord is back with us. Until then, we’d appreciate it if she were to also look into a way of bring us back or anything else that could help. And could you please let my family know how I’m doing, but do try not to worry them, and make sure somepony else besides Sweetie Belle is feeding Opalescence. The last time I left that to her, Opal ended up twice her original weight. Oh, and if you could talk to my managers in Manehattan and Sassy about how my stores are doing in my absence—“

“Whoa, wait, wait,” interjected the pegasus. “Um, I’m not going to be able to fit all that in one message. Can you, maybe, shorten it down to the most important parts please?”

Rarity sharply drew in a breath. “Alright,” she finally said after several moments of careful consideration. “Make sure Twilight knows that it’s from Rarity, that I’m in the schools of magic south of Spiketopia, that I’m trying to save Spike and Discord, and that I’d like her to let my parents and sister know that I’m safe.”

“Okay, I can work with that.” The wire went back against the pegasus’s forehead. “Here we go,” she said before her eyes shut and she began to chant. As the seconds passed, Rarity watched the blonde mare’s forehead furrow and her smile turn to a confused frown. Her eyelids pressed tighter against each other, and her incantation slowed to a stop then started back up again. More time went by, and still the copper stayed limp and dull.

The pegasus let the wire drop with a sad, tired sigh. She opened her eyes, and for a brief moment, they were pointed in different direction, but a quick shake of her head soon fixed that. “Um, yeah, sorry. The spell wouldn’t go through, like, at all.” She frowned. “Are you sure you this Twilight Sparkle actually exists? I mean, I’ve never heard anything about an Equestria before, and unicorns with wings? A princess of friendship? That’s the sort of stuff you only find in stories told to children.”

Rarity’s lips pressed firmly together, but she managed to contain her annoyance and just responded with a stiff, “I see. Well, thank you for your time and your service.”

“Oh, no problem.” Half of Rarity’s most recent transaction made its way back into her purse. “Sorry about your last message, but if you ever want to try again or maybe send a new one to someone else, we’ll be happy to help here at the Fine Copper Company!”

Rarity nodded her thanks and, out of politeness, did her best to match the pegasus’ smile before leaving. She wasn’t sure what to make of the whole experience or what she had accomplished besides lightening her purse. She reread the short reply she had gotten from Gustford before tucking the paper into the inner pocket of her cloak, right underneath Elder Woods’s dagger. Hopefully she had at least put the griffon’s worries to rest now that he knew she had safely reached her destination.

Roaming around like she had yesterday didn’t have the same appeal, so instead Rarity returned to the cathedral in the city’s center to give the library another visit. Her research into necromancy might have been a bust, but there was so much more she had to look into. Her horn was still missing, for instance, something that had admittedly slipped her mind in the midst of her looking into the art of raising the dead as a means of saving her friends, and while the books she found on unicorn anatomy and horn maintenance were informative, they didn’t have anything on what to do if you were to wake up one morning with your horn gone. It was just another thing to discuss with Dean Elkraps the next chance she had, but right now Rarity had her piqued curiosity to deal with as her studies into unicorn horns naturally led to unicorn magic, and from there it went to ideas on how magic in general worked.

It wasn’t a topic that normally kept Rarity’s interest so strongly, that sort of thing was really more in Twilight’s lane, but seeing all these creatures do what Rarity thought exclusive to unicorns left her wondering and wanting for an explanation. Soon she found herself tumbling uncontrollably down a rabbit hole of confusing and sometimes conflicting texts and overly complex language that she struggled to grasp any understanding out of. The best Rarity could interpret from the most accepted theory was that reality consisted of countless invisible strands, and it was the manipulation of these strands that formed magical spells.

A fascinating concept this string theory, and there was something she as a seamstress found almost romantic in the idea of the world just being one big woven sweater, but as to how one would go about shaping this Weave as some of her readings had gone about calling it, Rarity could find no clear answer. It was apparently something some of the authors here had spent their entire lives trying to figure out, and Rarity eventually lost interest after her eyes skimmed over yet another circle of shapes and runes she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

From the Weave to the Fey who were so connected to it to the fairytales and fantasies that they inspired, Rarity spent the rest of her day at the library, breaking for lunch and to rest her eyes and stretch her legs. On occasion she would engage in light conversation with a student who didn’t look so busy, usually just about how their day was and what they were working on or looking to read, but nothing really came of it, no rumors or gossip or anything. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling and on the shelves lit up as the sky seen though the glass above started to darkened, and Rarity made her return to the Hag’s Haven just as the sun finished setting.

The next morning came, and Rarity awoke to find her cloak stainless. The silver coin she had left on top of it just as the receptionist had instructed her was gone as was the stink of sweat which had been replaced by the faintest flowery fragrance. It looked, well, as good as a set of clothes meant for rigorous travel could have looked. Having the cloak on most of the time out of necessity and caution and the scarcity in mirrors meant that its appearance was usually out of her sight and out of her mind, but as Rarity now held the cloak out for inspection, she was met with the depressing realization that this drab, unappealing layer of coarse fabric made up her entire current wardrobe. Her thoughts longingly went to the casual dress and bonnet ensemble she had gotten at Baldursgait. She would have to find something, anything, better to wear for her next meeting with Elkraps.

Speaking of which, the stone the unicorn had given Rarity was buzzing. The message she received was more of the same from yesterday, just a mention that work was being done and an inquiry to how she was doing which Rarity responded with a word of thanks and an assurance of adequacy. The lack of notable progress was disappoint but hearing Twilight’s voice, even if it didn’t belong to the right mare, did help brighten Rarity’s mood, and she got ready for yet another day. The plan was to spend some more time at the library to try and get a bit more research done, but she was sure there would be time to browse a few boutiques first so that she’d be more presentable at tomorrow’s meeting with Alharir, Tariq, and the rest of their group.

That’s right. Today would be her third day at the schools, and it didn’t seem like Rarity would be ready to leave anytime soon. She would need to come up with another way of getting through the desert if the others were to decide to leave without her, but there was little use in worrying about that now when so much was still so uncertain. For the time being, Rarity was better off focusing on concerns she could address, like picking out some clothes that didn’t make her look like a total vagabond.

It took her nearly the whole morning before she finally found something that suited her. The stores she visited were limited to the robes and capes she had seen being worn by many of the locals, and Rarity struggled to find something that didn’t either make her look like she was getting ready for bed or bath or give her the appearance of an overly flashy stage performer. And then there was the matter of cost. The first couple of shops Rarity had stepped into sold their wares at prices that made her Canterlot Carousel seem like a bargain bin by comparison, but then, she had never advertised her dresses as being able to protect against intense fires or weapons of war or grant the wearer the ability to become incorporeal. In the end, she settled on something a little more mundane, a set of sleek navy blue robes that opened up at the front to reveal a lavender vest, and despite her budget, Rarity couldn’t help but complete the outfit with the purchase of a silky sky blue shawl to drape over her shoulders.

Now there was satisfaction to be felt when heads turned as she passed, and at the library of the main campus there were suddenly a lot more beings willing to allow disruptions to their studies for sake of small talk. Much of it was still trivial, but in addition to the complaints about certain professors and subjects, bad exams and worse dates, some shared their notes with her and a few even patiently tried to walk Rarity through a few arcane tricks, which sadly went nowhere. And though she got no closer to finding a way of rescuing her friends, she did hear of some ancient ruins just outside the city’s magical borders, filled with the whispers of treasures yet to be discovered. An option, and a truly desperate one, if she were to ever run low on funds and couldn’t find any other form of employment other than tomb raiding.

Well, another day at the schools came and went with Rarity taking another leisurely stroll through the streets as the sun started to set. Hopefully headway on Elkraps’s end would be made soon. Rarity was quickly becoming bored and restless as her means of distraction were starting to grow monotonous. The absence of any message from the unicorn the next morning, however, was less than promising as the painted stone remained still and silent no matter how long Rarity stared at it. She briefly considered contacting Elkraps herself with it but then remembered the mare’s request to avoid doing so unless absolutely necessary, so she put the stone away. She might simply be running a little late or in the middle of something important, there was no need for panic just yet.

In any case, Rarity had other things to attend to today, and it was already getting late. She dressed herself in her fine new robes, found pockets for her purse, her visitor’s pass, the magic message stone, and, after some deliberation over being properly prepared versus acting paranoid, her dagger, and once her scarf was securely positioned, it was off downstairs to the inn’s lobby.

“Ah, ‘ello there dearie,” came the receptionist’s usual salutation with her usual little smile. “Again, I have to say, I love your new look. You wear it so well.”

The few others around nodded in agreement. Rarity said her thanks as she fended off the cat paws reaching for her scarf.

“Yes, it reminds me of when I was a young lady. Ah, the ways I could make a heart dance.” The smile widened, causing the mare’s wrinkles to deepen and become more obvious. Rarity saw something dark and disquieting flashed in those eyes, but it disappeared as the mare attempted to bat her lashes which only incited snickers and jeers from the pair of elderly stallions sitting on the lobby couch. “Now, miss,” she said, turning back to Rarity, “tonight will be the last night that you’ve paid for. Will you be checking out in the morning morrow or are you planning on staying longer?”

“I’ll be most likely extending my stay, but it is something I will need to confirm first,” Rarity answered. “Will that be a problem?”

“No, of course not, as long as you let me know and get your payment to me sometime today. Until then, do have yourself a fine day, dearie.”

Rarity bid the mare good one as well before leaving for the main campus building. There was still some several minutes before noon when she arrived at the grand cathedral’s walls, and Rarity was wondering what she should do to pass the time when she noticed somepony sitting at a nearby cafe table waving at her. At first, the pony appeared to be a stranger, and it wasn’t until Rarity got closer that she realized that she recognized the headscarf the waving mare was wearing.

It was, however, her first time ever encountering the mare sitting besides Alharir. The newcomer was tall, slender, a member of the same equine tribe no doubt, and she too had her mane and much of her head covered by a long stretch of colorful silk. The color of her coat was a little darker than that Alharir’s, with some shades of gray mixed into blue. She was markedly younger than Alharir and maybe a few years short of Rarity, but there were a number of significant lines of stress running across her face and the beginnings of heavy sagging bags forming beneath her eyes. Despite her evident exhaustion, her smile was just as radiant as the one Alharir had on and her eyes glistened with youth, brilliance, and intelligence.

“Rarity!” Alharir exclaimed, standing up and clasping her forelegs over Rarity’s own. “It has been too long. I hope you have been well. Come, come.” She pulled Rarity over to the table and gestured to the younger mare. “This is my dear Aibnatu. Oh, she has turned into such a fine adult.” Alharir’s voice shook with emotion. “She makes me so very proud.”

“Mama, please,” the young mare mumbled as her face turned bright pink. She started to sigh and roll her eyes but caught herself and instead turned to bow toward Rarity. “Hello, Madam Rarity. As my mama has said, I am called Aibnatu.” She lifted her head up, and again she smiled. “She has told me much about her journey to the schools, and I thank you for you assistance in bringing her and my baba here safely.”

“Oh no, it was no trouble at all,” Rarity said. “If anything, I should be thanking them letting me join their expedition. I don’t know how I could have found this place without your mother and father. Speaking of whom, is Mister Tariq not with you?” She looked around the cafe area and even turned her gaze toward the plaza just outside the cathedral, keeping his distinctive headdress in mind as she search, but the stallion was nowhere to be found.

Alharir let out a long sigh. “He will be here later, once he has finished securing a deal for magical arrows.” She folded her front legs across her chest and frowned. “He spent most of yesterday haggling for potions. Honestly, that fool of a stallion does not know when to stop working, even when it comes to seeing his own daughter.”

Aibnatu chuckled. “What was it that Baba alway used to say? ‘A trader only stops trading when he sleeps?’ It seems that that has not changed in the slightest. Mama, I keep telling you, I do not mind. It is good just to see the two of you here and well.“

The discussion gradually moved on as Rarity, with some prompting from Alharir, asked about the young mare’s studies, and she explained that her focus had been on imbuing items with magic to give them special properties. To demonstrate and at Alharir’s prodding, Aibnatu pulled out a small circle of gold attached to a necklace chain, and at her command, an intensely bright glow was emitted from the ring. She spoke again, and the light vanished.

“It is really nothing special,” Aibnatu tried to cut in as her mother beamed on and continued to shower her with praises. “The light will only last for a minute before going out, so it is not all that useful, not to mention that it took me an entire day just to get just one working.” She fought back a yawn. “One day I hope to be able to supply our family business with items worth selling, but for now I still have much to learn.”

“Oh hush, my dear. Enough of that talk. You are doing fine,” cooed Alharir as she embraced Aibnatu’s shoulders and held her tight. The mage apprentice groaned and struggled to escape her mother’s grasp but to no avail, and when she turned to Rarity and mouthed a silent cry for help, all Rarity could provide was a sad sympathetic smile. Ah, the pride of a parent. Rarity’s own mother had her first designs, from way back before she had her Cutie Mark or knew how to operate a sewing machine, stored and hidden away somewhere when if Rarity had had her way, those abominations would’ve been destroyed long ago.

The embarrassing display of affection was only interrupted when a tray of drinks and puffy pastries floated to their table, and a menu along with a notepad to record her order arrived before Rarity only a few moments later. They continued to speak through their meal, moving on to Aibnatu’s daily struggles as a student to how she and Alharir had been spending their time together to what Rarity was up to these past few days and why she was at the schools of magic to begin with. Recalling Elkraps’s initial unease, Rarity simply explained that she needed guidance for a private matter and left it at that, without any mention of necromancy, and thankfully, both mares were polite enough to not pry.

A little while later, Tariq joined them, looking miffed as he took a seat next to his wife. He contributed little to the conversation beyond the initial hellos, the polite inquiries to how Rarity had been, and some grumbled complaints about market values and supply chains when asked about how the deal had gone. That air of annoyance he was carrying was mostly maintained while the mares around him talked, but Rarity saw the smile on his face and the softening of his features as Aibnatu spoke of her latest academic accomplishments, the delight in his eye obvious even if the source of it was ignorant.

The clocktowers rang out, signaling the end of the hour and the arrival of noon. They paid their bill and made their way to the entrance of the main campus building. There they found Biala Diyn waiting with one of older mares that they had saved from the slave pen, and then they had to wait a good several minutes before Steel Nerves made it to the agreed meeting spot. Once the greetings, introductions, admonishments, excuses, and half-hearted apologies were all exchanged, they went inside and found themselves a space that was less crowded. The blade strapped to Biala Diyn’s side and the large club dangling from Steel Nerves’s waist got a few odd glances, but other than that, they were largely left alone.

“Now that we are all finally here,” Biala said, invoking an eye roll from Steel, “we can begin discussing when we are to leave here. Ser Tariq, Madam Alharir,” he addressed with a nod toward each of them. “As our employers, perhaps the both of you should have the first say in the matter.”

“Well,” Tariq began, “our, immediate business has been taken care of, and so we will be ready to leave whenever. It is something we, that is, my wife, my daughter, and myself have already discussed a great deal.” At this, he glanced over at Alharir who frowned but limited the venting of her evident frustrations to a deep sigh.

“Wait, I thought you wanted to spend more time with your kid,” Steel Nerves barged in, causing Rarity, Biala, and the rescued mare to bring their hooves to their foreheads and groan. The minotaur didn’t seem to notice nor did he appear to see Tariq close his eyes and wince or Alharir’s lips pursing tightly as he continued to speak. “Don’t get me wrong or whatever, the sooner we leave here, the better for me. You’d think a place called the schools of magic would have a lot to do or see, but everyone I’ve talked to here just wants to read books or listen to old folks talk and use big words. It’s just so, ugh, boring!”

The last word echoed through the halls of the building, drawing glares from all directions, including from the rest of the group though Steel remained oblivious. “So yeah, if those four days were enough for you three, great. I don’t know, I’ve never had much of a family.”

“It, was not an easy decision,” said Tariq, looking to his family after some seconds of silence, “but we all have our, obligations.” He cleared his throat as Alharir huffed loudly and Aibnatu comforted her with a pat on the leg. “Ahem, in any case, that is a personal matter between us, and, um, anyways, just know that we able to go when everyone else is ready.”

“Well that is good news for us as well,” the mare next to Biala spoke up. She looked to Biala who motioned for her to continue. “Let me just say, we are all so very grateful for everything your group has done for us, but we have our own homes and lives to get back to. Many of us, especially those with young children or have been separated from their families, are becoming restless, and there is talk of setting of on our own.” She shook her head sternly. “They recognize how dangerous that would be, I am sure, but please understand, we are desperate to return to the lives we were stolen from.”

“There is also an issue of money,” Biala Diyn added. “Even with the extra silver,” he said with a subtle glance at Rarity, “we do not have enough funds to keep everyone fed and housed for much longer. If we can leave any earlier, it would be for the best.”

Both the mare and the minotaur nodded their agreement. “Then that just leaves Madam Rarity,” said Tariq, and slowly, every head turned toward her. “Have you concluded business with the schools concluded? Will you be able to depart soon?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not finished here yet. There much I still need to get done.”

Rarity could see the disappointment some were having over her answer. Steel Nerves was far more vocal with his. “Seriously?” the minotaur groaned. “Come on, what are you even doing anyways? It can’t be that important.”

“It’s rather personal, but if you really must know,” Rarity said, her irritation lending a bite to her voice, “I am trying to save my friends from a horrible fate. So yes, it is something I find very important, and I don’t plan on leaving until I’m finished.”

“Then do you know how quickly you will be able to resolve this matter of yours,” Biala asked, showing far more tact than Steel seemed capable of as the grumbling minotaur plopped down onto a bench nearby. “A day? Two? Is there anything we can do to help you finish this faster?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid there’s really nothing you can do for me at this point,” Rarity said. “It’s being taken care of, I just need a little time.”

“So then how much time do you need?” Impatience shrouded over Biala’s expression, but the shadows quickly subsided leaving him appearing sad, sorry, and almost regretful. “I believe I speak for our entire group when I say that I do not wish to leave you behind, but we will if we must. So please, how much longer must we wait?”

“I—“

A loud, continuous buzz cut Rarity off, though from everyone else’s reactions, or rather their complete lack of one, it appeared that she was the only one to hear it. It was coming from within her robes, she swiftly realized, from Elkraps’s stone, and the moment she reached into her pocket and pulled the magic stone out, the unicorn’s message filled her head.

Princess Shmarity. Have urgent news, need to see you immediately. Can you meet right now? If so, I’ll be waiting at the campus front desk.

As she started to make her response, Rarity felt something brush against her leg and yelled out an excited, “Yes!” Aharir jumped and pulled her hoof back, startled by the sudden exclamation along with the rest of the creatures gathered here.

“Is, is everything alright, Rarity?” Aharir asked once she had recovered from the initial fright.

“Hm? Oh, er, yes. Yes, everything is fine.” The buzzing had faded, as did the message from Elkraps. Rarity put away the stone and turned back to the group. “So, regarding the, um, delay that I’m causing in our leaving, I actually have to meet with somepony who’s helping me with this issue.“ She slowly started to back away from her traveling companions and towards the crowded hall. “Ah, as in she wants to meet right now.”

“Right now as in—“

“Right now as in right now,” Rarity said, interrupting Tariq. “Anyways after this meeting I’ll probably will be in a better position to answer your question, Mister Diyn, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, but right now I really do need to get going.” Her steps backwards were picking up in pace. “It was good to see you all again. Really. We’ll have to talk more later! Goodbye!”

Rarity sudden broke into a run and dashed off toward the entrance of the building, spurred on by the stress on immediacy that had been in Elkraps’s message. Worry for what could have possible required such urgency kept her from hearing the calls after her as she rushed to the front desk, where Elkraps Thigliwt said she would be waiting.

35. Old Bones and Older Tomes

Old Bones and Older Tomes

“Sorry for the short notice,” Elkraps said as she led Rarity down a spiraling stairway. After they had met up at the front desk, Rarity was brought through a series of winding corridors until they had reach a set of doors that were chained shut. Several complete suits of armor designed for quadrupeds such as themselves flanked the sides of the door, and at two mares’s approach, those empty husks of steel sprung to life, unsheathing their swords and brandishing their pikes. From her cape, Elkraps took out that miniature shield adorned with a red star and said something in some strange and unintelligible tongue. The suits of armor returned to their posts against the wall, and the chains that were wrapped around the doors fell away, as if released from some invisible grasp.

On the other side was the staircase they were currently traversing, their way visible by the light of burning torches that hung off the walls. “Getting an audience with the school of necromancy dean wasn’t exactly easy, even with my new position. Necromancers tend to keep to themselves, and it seems like they‘re all busy dealing with some sort of incident,” Elkraps explained. “It took me all this time just to get five minutes with Sergei, that’s their dean, and he was downright dismissive of your whole story up until I mentioned those scrolls of Valmeyjar you were sent here to find. Guess they must have meant something. Still, I don’t know how long his interest in this will hold or when your next opportunity to meet with him will be, so we really should speak to him now, while he’s still somewhat invested.”

“And this Sergei,” Rarity said between steps, “you believe he will be able to help us?”

“If he doesn’t know what we’re looking for or isn’t willing to reveal anything, I’m not sure if there’s anything else we can do,” Elkraps admitted. “Well, I suppose there’s still the necromancy headmaster, and I think they have a council of advisors or something, I‘m honestly not entirely familiar with all the details, but I do know that we have absolutely no chance of speaking to them.”

“I thought you had just spoken to the head.”

“Ah, no. Sergei and I, we’re deans,” said Elkraps. “We handle the day to day administrative matters, class registrations and curriculum standards for the undergraduates, our relations with the town businesses and visitors from outside the schools, those sort of things. The headmasters and their selected deputies are in charge of just about everything beyond the surface level, a lot of which I’m actually not allowed to talk about in front of an outsider.”

She glanced at Rarity over her shoulder, and the stern, dark look on her face was enough to deter any curiosity into the subject. Instead, Rarity asked, “How much further is Dean Sergei’s office?” She was by no means unfit, but the seemingly endless stairs were starting to take a toll on her, and her breathing was becoming a little more labored with every step down. How long had their descent already taken them? Hours would probably be an exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way.

“Oh, we’re not going to his office. He said to meet him in the necromancy department,” Elkraps related. “Each school has one. It’s where the more specialized research and studying is done. Anyways, there should be someone at the entrance that’ll take us to him.”

Rarity waited for the unicorn to say more, to answer the question of how much further there was to go, but when Elkraps added nothing else, Rarity, not wanting to waste her increasingly precious breath, decided not to push the issue. When the end finally came, it came without warning, and Rarity nearly stumbled on her last step as her hoof unexpectedly struck a level surface instead of dropping to the next stone stair below. It was an understandable blunder, the large empty space they had stepped into was almost in complete darkness, and the colored light of the torches on the walls barely made a dent.

“This way,” Elkraps instructed and moved forward. As she followed after, Rarity realized that the stairway had led to a hall that seemed to curve around the stairs. Each torch they past was lit with the flames of a different color, from varied shades of red to blues to greens, and though Rarity could barely see her own hoof in front of her, the grand murals on the outer wall were as bright and clear as they might have been outside on a sunny summer day. The first depicted a figure in green fending off hissing shadows and torrents of wicked fire with a glistering emerald shield. The second came a few steps after, and it was of two massive armies facing one another on a ruined battlefield. A single figure similar to the one in the first mural was all that stood between the two armies, though this one was glowing gray instead of green, and those struck by the light the being was emitting were in the process of fading away regardless of which side they were on.

The third one showed yet another vague figure distinguishable only by their color, this time orange. The figure was bent over a sprouting plant while a flourishing metropolis expanded behind them. The next mural was far simpler, and yet it also struck Rarity as oddly complex and puzzling. All it had been was a figure in white sitting before a large glass ball, but within the glass Rarity saw the exact same scene. There, right there, was the white figure, and again, there was that ball of glass, and there, in the glass, was the same scene once more. On and on it went, and with each recurrence the image shrunk until it could no longer be observed.

Elkraps had walked briskly past the first few paintings, but at the fourth one, her steps seemed to slow. This one was of a violent storm, with bolts of violet lightning crashing down and setting trees and structures a ablaze, creating a sea of flames, and in the center of it all was a figure of red who appeared calm and unbothered despite all of the destruction around them. There was a look of recognition and even an odd glint of pride on Elkraps’s face in the half second she had spent to stare at the tempestuous scene before continuing on.

The next image they past was clearly meant to be a portrait, but like with all the others, the posing subject was nondescript and could only be vaguely described as a figure, though this one was a blend of colors that left Rarity feeling confused and uncomfortable. The one other distinctive feature the figure did have was a blurring mask covering its face that was painted to look as if it was in the midst of changing form, and for a brief moment Rarity thought she saw her own face on the figure. The moment quickly passed with a blink, and at Elkraps’s calling, she moved on, walking by the sixth mural which showed a figure of purple sitting on a seat of gold surrounded by pillars of wood slowly being covered in coats of silver.

When they arrived at the seventh and final painting before the hall looped back around to the stairs, Elkraps came to a complete stop and motioned to Rarity to do the same. There, standing in front of the picture of a shadowy figure helping a skeleton rise out of a grave and onto its feet, was a pony. The stallion was tall, for a pony at least, and in his dapper vest and dress coat he might have looked dashing had it not been for his discolored, decaying face. All of the fur was gone, and the flaking gray skin was stretched tightly over his skull. A pair of glassed over eyes were trapped in those sullen sockets, and when the stallion, if the horrific thing before them could even still be considered a stallion, turned to face Rarity, she, fighting back a shiver, noticed a faint glow coming from behind those eyes so very devoid of life.

She wasn’t sure which was more unsettling, that glow or the obviously fake mustache that was cruelly stapled to his face, but worst of all was undoubtably the state of his poor mane and tail. The color had all but completely faded out, and Rarity didn’t think she had ever seen hair so dry and dead; it was like straw.

She heard Elkraps click her tongue in annoyance. “Did Sergei send you?”

“He did,” the creature hissed out of his lipless mouth. “I am to bring the both of you to Master Sergei—“

Rarity couldn’t help but flinched. She had no idea that two little words could carry so much venom.

“—unharmed, untouched, and, without question, alive.” The creature scowled. “The master was, adamant about the last condition.”

“Is that right?” Elkraps sighed. “Very well, let’s not keep your master waiting much longer.”

The creature squirmed and grumbled before turning around to face the mural behind him. He pressed a hoof against the picture, and suddenly the image of the skeleton and the dark figure vanished as the wall that had been its canvas split apart. The stallion then stepped through the newly created entrance without another word or glance toward Rarity or Elkraps.

“Alright then,” Elkraps said, stepping forward. ”We don’t often get the chance to visit the departments of other schools, and this will actually be my first time at the necromancy department as well. Should be, hm, interesting.” She put on the same excited grin Twilight would have on whenever she came across a new subject of study or a particularly challenging puzzle. It wasn’t the most encouraging facial expression, but the familiar sight it did help Rarity put enough of her unease to rest that she was able to follow after the unicorn and into whatever laid hidden behind the wall.

The first thing Rarity noticed was an immediate drop in temperature. She pulled the ends of her robe and her scarf tighter around herself, but still her body shook from the cold. The sudden chill did little, however, to numb the shock of stepping into what appeared to be the square of some village. The dark stone walls of the circular hall beneath the cathedral had given way to a dreary, sunless sky and a number of modest cottages. Open fields of frost surrounded them, and Rarity could spot several crowds of creatures huddled together out in the distance as well a few monolithic towers and large block structures. Stuffed sacks of burlap littered the ground before them, some of which were piled haphazardly against the huts nearby, and Rarity felt a sense of tingling trepidation as she noticed the outlines of equine bodies in many of the sacks.

A moan behind Rarity nearly caused her heart to jump up her throat and escape through her mouth, and she turned and found herself face to rotting face with a walking corpse. Much of its facial features had decomposed long ago, and the skin and flesh of its lower jaw had since peeled away to reveal the bleached bone underneath. The rest of the body was hardly in any better condition, with uneven sections that were bloated and swollen between holes where the tips of ribs protruded out. Like with Dean Sergei’s servant, the body was an unnatural, sickly gray color, but she could at least tell that the servant had once been a living stallion. Too much of this unfortunate monstrosity was already gone, and the best Rarity could say was that it was the body of a pony.

It was an utterly repulsive sight that was only somewhat mitigated by a strange lack of gore. Any rotten innards one would realistically expect to find spilling out of the open cavities seemed to be hidden by a murky layer of darkness.

Somehow, despite there being a gaping opening in its neck and also the whole not being alive part, the corpse groaned again, and Rarity quickly got out of its way. It shuffled off, dragging one of the those sack behind it, and as it slowly made its way to a great bonfire in the center of the square, it joined the many additional animated bodies walking around and even some skeletons stripped complete bare, all busy bringing fuel to feed the burning pyre.

Mixed into the morbid parade of decayed flesh and bone were a few creatures dressed in black cloaks and robes who appeared to be directing the walking dead with small gestures. Some were ponies of varying shape and size, but Rarity also thought she saw a griffon’s claw being raised, and there were a couple who were clearly standing on two legs. Most had their hoods pulled over their heads or had on masks like the ones Equestrian healers used to don long ago, but the faces that Rarity could see all appeared drained and exhausted.

A sneeze pulled Rarity’s attention to the mare next to her. “Hm, it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” Elkraps said with a sniff. “Makes sense, I suppose. The cold would slow all of the decomposition, I can see why they’d have it this way.”

“W-where are we?” Rarity exclaimed, her teeth chattering. “W-what happened here?”

A low chuckle from the undead creature in the dress coat answered her. “Oh, just another careless fool who thought himself in control. He was, gravely mistaken.” He smirked, exposing a row of stained teeth. “Now, come along,” he said as he started down a dirt trail that led away from the cottages and into the fields.

Rarity turned to Elkraps who grimaced. “Yeah, you remember me mentioning there being something of incident?” The unicorn nodded grimly toward the cloaked creatures and their grisly work. “There’s a reason why a lot of wizards outside of the school of necromancy don’t bother with undead animation,” she said as she and Rarity followed after the stallion. “If you’re not being attentive, you can easily lose control of your creations and end up in scenes like that.”

“Is this something that happens often?” Rarity asked with a quick glance back to the bonfire.

“Often enough that it gives this school its less than stellar reputation,” said Elkraps, shrugging. “Or contributes to it anyways. There are plenty of reasons why necromancy is so unpopular, but I’m sure losing a huge chunk of your student body every couple of years or so doesn’t help.”

They walked on, their hooves crinkling the frozen grass as they passed rows of zombies standing at attention. After a little while, it became clear that they were being taken to one of the solid cubes that were strewn about the place. As they got closer, Rarity noted two individuals standing at their destination, and to her relief they were both very much alive. One was a gaunt stallion dressed in the same black robes as the others. He had no mane atop his pale tan head, though a dark red tail could be seen peeking out from the hem of his robes. A curled mustache of the same coloring with some gray peppered into it covered his upper lip, and like Elkraps, he had grown out a lengthy beard from his chin. No horn extend out of the stallion’s forehead, but with those thick, heavy robes in the way there was no telling whether he was a pegasus or an earth pony.

The creature next to him was something of a surprise as Rarity had not noticed their kind walking the streets of the town outside. They were a beige blue furred diamond dog, short and stocky, no taller than the stallion or either her or Elkraps even, and with lengthy arms that drooped past their knees. They wore a dark brown jacket that was more pockets than cloth and had on a high-crowned, wide-brimmed sable fedora. Despite wearing no pants, the diamond dog still had a belt around their waist which carried a multitude of pouches and packs along with a coiled up whip.

They appeared to be conversing with the pony in the black robes, or at least trying to, and spoke animatedly and with enthusiasm that didn’t match the annoyed look that the stallion had on. Rarity only caught a few words out of context, something about temples and tombs, but whatever was being discussed, it was clear from the stallion’s scowl that he had little patience for the diamond dog. A look of relief spread across the stallion’s face as he noticed her and Elkraps’s approach, and he raised a hoof to cut the diamond dog off.

“Yes, yes, all very good,” he said loudly, his voice deep and booming and with pronounced accent on his vowels. “You’ve given me much to consider, but, ah, we’ll have to finish this at later time.” He waved his hoof toward Rarity, Elkraps, and the undead stallion that was leading them. “As you can see, I have another appointment that I have to get to. Do understand, I am a very busy pony.”

The dog frowned at this interruption, but after a small sigh, they nodded. “Mister Sergei will remember to get back to Bones, yes?” The voice, while still gruff and scratchy, was higher in pitch than any other diamond dog Rarity had heard before. “You not forget?”

“Of course, of course,” the stallion said with a dismissive gesture before turning to the creature in the suit. “Jeeves, bring Miss Bones untouched, harmed and unquestionably alive back to, hmm. Well, you’re not allowed up top so just bring her to the department entrance. I’m sure she can figure out the rest of the way to my office. Darn mongrel somehow found her way in here of all places,” he added under his breath once the diamond dog and the grumbling wight were out of earshot.

“Who was that?” Elkraps asked. “She didn’t look like a student.”

“Oh, her. That would be Athkatla Bones. Supposedly world famous archeologist, explorer extraordinaire, renowned treasure hunter, and a busybody with far too many connections.” The stallion sighed. “Someone must have let it slip that I‘m the head of the archeology bureau.” He let out a bark of laugh, as if the statement carried a joke with a punchline only he was privy to. “Well, on to more, intriguing business. Dean Thigliwt,” the stallion said with a nod toward the unicorn before turning to Rarity. “And you must be the sovereign of Spiketopia, Princess Shmarity.”

“Hello sir.” Rarity took the offered hoof and noted that it was covered in thick cloth wrappings. “And if I’m not mistaken, you must be the dean of this school.”

“That I am. Dean Sergei von Zarovich of the necromancers.” His mustache twitched as he put on a small smile. “Now, my colleague here has already told me about your situation, but I’d like to hear it from you, please.”

Just as she had done with Elkraps, Rarity started to retell her first morning in Spiketopia, but she had only begun to mention being trapped in the Squid Wizard’s tower when Dean von Zarovich interrupted her. “Let’s skip to your meeting with this Queen of Fey of yours. That’s what I’m interesting in learning about. Your experiences as a prisoner, your dead friends, I don’t need to hear about any of that.”

The stallion was unbothered by Rarity’s glower as he motioned her to proceed. Remembering what was on the line, Rarity took a moment to calm herself with a quick breath and softened her expression then jumped straight into her dream of the Queen of Fey and all the powerful being has relayed to her. Throughout her recount, she kept an eye on Sergei von Zarovich, trying to read his reactions. He seemed amused by her description of the Queen’s appearance and the surrounding dreamscape, and when Rarity got to the Queen’s instructions, there were a few times when he had opened his mouth to interject only for Elkraps to stop him with a held out hoof and a glance.

When she had finished, the stallion shared a look with Elkraps before loosening the wrappings around his leg. Embedded deep into the limb was a large piece of red crystal that started to shine as von Zarovich muttered something under his breath. He turned to Rarity and asked, “Was that your first time ever hearing of necromancy?”

“Yes,” answered Rarity. The dean of necromancy’s eyes narrowed, and Rarity squirmed as she felt something seemingly burrow into the back of her head. Reaching back, her hoof found no wounds or any signs of entry, but that feeling of intrusion remained no matter how hard her head shook.

“Don’t resist,” von Zarovich ordered, and Rarity stopped moving around. Slowly, her headache dulled, and eventually the feeling faded away as well. “Hm, and was it also the first time you had heard of Valmeyjar?”

“It was.” There was that probing sensation again.

”And this your first encounter with this Queen of Fey?”

“Yes.”

“And did they ever speak to you after that?”

“Just one other time. They appeared when I had fallen overboard on my way here, and I believe I must have used their magic to save myself from drowning.”

“Ah yes, the magic stored within their symbol.” The light of the crystal in von Zarovich’s foreleg petered out, and the last of the tingles in Rarity’s head vanished. Setting the cloth back over his leg, he asked her, “May I see the symbol your Queen left you?”

Rarity shot a few questioning glance over at Elkraps, and when the unicorn gave an assuring nod, Rarity removed the chain from her neck and presented the pendant to von Zarovich. From his robes he pulled out a monocle made from a shiny green material, possibly jade, and set it over an eye. As he carefully held the silver snowflake up to the lens and his squinting eye, his frown deepened. “So it is real. How, curious. Tell me, have you tried bringing your friends back to life with this?”

“Well, no, I can’t say the thought ever occurred to me,” Rarity admitted. “Though with how few instructions I was given on how to use the Queen’s magic, I’m not entirely sure where I would begin to do so.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” the stallion said, chuckling as he returned the pendant and put away the monocle.

“Well, Sergei? Are you satisfied?” Elkraps demanded. “Now can you help us?”

He sighed. “Dean Thigliwt, I am well aware that this subject isn’t your specialty, but you must know that necromancy doesn’t work that way. Making a corpse move, act, or even think and speak is one thing, but to return a soul to its deceased body, that’s a tall order. Nigh impossible in fact, even for the headmaster, I’d imagine.”

Rarity’s entire body slumped over limply as her heart sank down to her haunches. “Please, t-that can’t be right. The Queen, I was told, there must something you can do.” In desperation, her hooves found their way around the front of the dean of necromancy’s clothes. “Anything, please!”

Sergei von Zarovich pulled away from Rarity’s grasp. “If you would calm yourself, I was going to say that there is one thing we can try,” he said irritably as he smoothed out the newly formed wrinkles of his robes. “It’s not pretty, there will be a steep price, and I can’t promise that it’ll work, but there is a chance.”

“This method of yours,” Elkraps began while Rarity’s limbs turned to jelly from relief, “you are sure that it won’t turn Garbunkle and his companion into just another mindless ghoul?”

“If it works and everything down to the smallest detail goes according to plan, then yes,” von Zarovich answered. “But if something, anything, goes wrong, well, I can’t make any guarantees.” He shrugged and turned to Rarity. “It’s the best I have to offer you, and like I said, it will not come cheaply.”

“If it means saving my friends, I’m willing to pay whatever the cost.”

A smirk broke across von Zarovich’s face at Rarity’s declaration. “I’m not referring to gold, Princess. This isn’t something money can buy.”

“And my answer goes unchanged,” Rarity responded, her head held high as she stared directly into the eyes of the dark magician. “I am not leaving here without a means to bring back my friends.”

Their gazes held for several moment until Rarity broke the silence with a simple, pleading, “Please.” The gray eyes of Sergei von Zarovich retreated from Rarity’s blues as he sighed and turned away.

“Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pressed against the big black box behind him, and a simple door of wood formed over the surface. With a hoof on the handle, he gestured Rarity toward him. “Just her,” he said when Elkraps had taken a step forward as well. The unicorn raised an eyebrow and frowned, but the steely and determined look that von Zarovich had on kept her at bay.

“I wouldn’t dare ask you to divulge the secrets of evocation. Surely you can provide me with the same respect.”

Elkraps looked to Rarity, and at Rarity’s nod and silent assurance, she crossed her forelegs in front of her and stood back. “Very well, but if anything, anything at all happens to Princess Shmarity, I’ll make sure there’ll be nothing but ashes for your successor to animate.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try,” von Zarovich said with a mocking grin as he opened the door and went inside. Rarity followed swiftly after, and the door immediately slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump. Once her heart returned to a more manageable rate, Rarity tried to look around and get a feel for her surroundings, a task that proved so very difficult when all she could see was pitch black darkness. Suddenly, just as Rarity was about to speak up, light blue lights flared alive, illuminating the rows of shelves with small circular compartments that populated the room. The lights flickered and danced like flames despite the lack of wind, but when Rarity approached for a better look, she saw that there were no torches or any sources of fuel attached to the floating lights and felt no warmth from them. If anything, it was even colder in here than it had been in those frozen fields.

“Few members of my own school have ever stepped inside this chamber,” von Zarovich said, and as slow and as soft as his voice had been, it still put Rarity on edge. “Fewer still, if any, are the outsiders who get this privilege.” A shadow crept over his features as he stood next to a light. “I trust that you will be, discreet with what you will learn here.”

“What is this place?”

“Oh, just where we keep the secrets to the origins of the schools of magic and perhaps to all magic as we mortals know it.” He chuckled. “Well, I say secret, but most creatures here know the story of the long lost precursors, descendants of the first pantheon, the first settlers of this plane of existence. Of course, to most it’s nothing more than that, a story.”

He began making his way further into the room, and Rarity hurried after him. “For whatever reason, the school of necromancy was put in charge of studying what remains of the precursors. Something to do with our apparent fascination with the dead, I imagine.” A snort from von Zarovich echoed out and lingered in the air as it bounced off the walls and ceiling. “It’s mostly an afterthought, honestly. Many of their ancient structures are still partially intact and nearby, the tower you must have entered through to get to the schools is one of them that’s been refurbished, but working in those ruins is for the most part dull, tedious, and unrewarding, and then to complicate matters those ruins like to move locations every other month or so or even disappear for a few years. Top it all off with a shortage in both willing volunteers and budget, and you can see why there’s little interest in this subject.”

“Then, if you don’t mind me asking, why all the secrecy?”

They stopped in front of one of the shelves. “Because, on occasion, we find something worth keeping silent about.” The stallion ran his hoof along the shelf until it reached one particular cubbyhole, and from it he removed a closed scroll. “Spells that the precursors developed and sealed away, magic that we have yet to completely understand. For instance, in the right hooves or what have you, the spell contained in this scroll can cause the earth to quake with such force that fissures in the ground can be formed.” He put the scroll away and pointed at another. “And this one, oh this one, launches three massive fireballs all at once that will never miss their targets. Oh, I can’t even begin to imagine what went into developing something like this or what Dean Thigliwt and the entire school of evocation would be willing to give up just to take a small peek at it.

“At the schools of magic, knowledge of the subject is power,” von Zarovich continued. He stepped back and wave at the other shelves. “Evocation, enchantment, illusion, transmutation, conjugation, abjuration, and yes, necromancy. Having these ancient spells in our procession gives us something to hold over the other schools. Bargaining chips, if you will, something to trade for favors, so I would most appreciate it if you didn’t share this with anyone from any of the other schools.“

“I understand. Is there a magical oath you would like me take or some sort of ritual that we need to perform?”

“Just your word will be sufficient,” von Zarovich said with an amused smile. “I believe the fates of your friends will be enough of a motivator to ensure your continued silence.”

“Then I promise not to speak of this chamber’s contents to any creature,” Rarity swore, drawing a cross over her heart. “I do have to say, I’m a little surprised with how forthright you are being with me considering all this necessary secrecy. Which I most certainly do appreciate,” she quickly added as von Zarovich’s grin flipped upside down.

“Yes, well,” he began with sigh, “normally I wouldn’t bother entertaining this venture of yours at all, but your benefactor has already revealed to you one of our more guarded treasures, and I’d rather mitigate any damage you might cause through your own independent investigation. I suppose I could have just made you, go away, but with how busy things are right now, I’m not fully prepared to deal with the ire of Fey royalty.”

“This treasure,” said Rarity, keeping a straight face as she ignored the implicit threat and the completely relaxed way he had presented it, “you’re referring to the scrolls of Valmeyjar.”

“That I am.” The stallion led Rarity down to the very back of the room towards yet another shelf. “These over here were found in what remains of a temple dedicated to the deity Valmeyjar. Or maybe Valmeyjar was the high priest or a major sponsor or something, it’s not all that clear nor does it really matter all that much to us. A barely legible name on some fractured fresco is hardly relevant in the light of what we discovered hidden inside.” Carefully, von Zarovich took out another scroll, but unlike the previous one, this roll of parchment was also encased in a rounded protective canister made of glass. “Magic that’s necromantic in nature but like nothing any of us had ever seen or read of and that is possibly beyond any of our capabilities.” His eyes were shining with a look of utter reverence as he held out the scroll. “This particular spell, for instance, appears to be able to revive a creature whose body has completely ceased functioning within a minute of expiration.

“There are some limits. The cause of death cannot be from old age, anything vital must still be intact, and it won’t work past that first minute, so, ah, I suppose it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.” He started to put the scroll back.

“No, I suppose not,” Rarity said, frowning. There was something strange about learning that there was indeed a way to bring a dead creature back to life and being disappointed. “Please tell me you have something that isn’t so limited.”

“Oh, we do,” said von Zarovich. He patted a higher section of the shelf. “But these, however, we’ve only managed to find a few, so naturally it will have to take something extraordinary to convince me to part with even one of them.”

“Name your price.”

The calm and steady tone that carried her statement was a clear reflection of Rarity’s determination, but as von Zarovich continued his leering, Rarity grew less and less confident. Those calculating and appraising gray eyes of his slowly battered against her steely nerves, eroding away at them inch by inch until her unwavering resolve started to shake. In desperation, she turned to her memories of Spike, of their gem hunts and all those times he would act as her assistant for little more in return than some kind words. The thought of never again hearing his voice or his dry little laugh or seeing those bright green eyes gleam with an eagerness to please or to help or to just spend time together with her, of him forever unmoving and unresponsive as she had last seen him, lent her strength through a sudden burning, righteous fury, and she forced herself to glare right back at the necromancer.

At last, von Zarovich stopped rubbing the front of his mustache. “I require, a lock of your hair.”

Rarity nearly tripped over her own shock. “T-that’s it?”

“I’m not finished. That’s just something that’ll help me keep tabs on you later on,” he said. “No, what I would ask of you is the body of the creature who took over your kingdom.”

“You want, the body of the Squid Wizard?”

“That’s correct. I’m assuming that you’ll be wanting to retake the throne, and I can’t imagine that you’d be able to do so without a bit of bloodshed. Just be sure to secure the corpse if you do succeed and try to keep it all in one piece,” von Zarovich instructed her. “This creature, this Squid Wizard, doesn’t sound like anything that I am familiar with. It’s magical, that much is obvious, but there’s also what appears to be a high level of intelligence.” A hungry grin flashed across his face. “I’d love to pick it apart and see what I’ll be able to make out of it.”

“I’m, sure something can be arranged,” Rarity said uneasily. The stallion was right in that a peaceful resolution was unlikely, and in all honesty, after what that squid did to her Spikey-Wikey, Rarity wasn’t so sure she wanted this to end in the same amicable way her and her friends’ adventures usually did. Still, while she understood having to defend herself, she was no cold blooded assassin, and von Zarovich’s proposal of murder, presented as casually as a simple transaction at the Ponyville farmer’s market might have been, did not sit well with her. And then there was the matter of leaving the corpse with the necromancer to perform whatever dark and nauseating experiments he fancied. The skin beneath her coat crawled as she recalled the sights that were just outside.

From the way that von Zarovich was staring at her, with one eyebrow lifted and a hoof tapping away, it seemed that he was waiting for a more definite answer. Rarity sighed. “Very well. If it comes to it, I will do my best to get you the Squid Wizard’s remains,” she assured.

“Excellent.” He clapped with almost childlike excitement. ”Don’t worry about the sending the corpse back here. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You just concentrate on making that body dead and leaving it intact. Oh, and there will be one last thing I’ll be needing of you, just one more thing.”

Rarity bit back another sigh. “What is it?”

“Something you’ll find much, much simpler.” He pointed a hoof at Rarity and let it slowly fall and rise along Rarity’s height. “Your body.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Once you’re done using it, of course,” von Zarovich said, as if that made anything clearer. “That Fey queen of yours seemed to suggest that they were responsible for your birth. If that’s the case, I’d like to thoroughly investigate to see if they made any alterations to your body’s structure. Fey creatures don’t tend to leave any physical remains, so if there is anything Fey inside of you that’s left behind, well, it’ll certainly be interesting to work with, and the chance to do so is worth its while.”

Rarity grew faint at the suggestion. She had never given much consideration to what would happen to her body once her own morality finally kicked in, but the more she was forced to confront the question, the more horrified she became of von Zarovich’s proposition. To leave her body with a stranger in some distant land, far from the home and the ones she loved, was unthinkable, and the thought of any creature rummaging around inside of her was a sickening one. Rarity’s stomach churned and threatened to expel its contents as she pictured her once immaculate now decaying body joining those undead hordes, her meticulously styled mane and tail falling out from the roots as her glamorous looks rotted away until her face was utterly unrecognizable.

Rarity’s disgust must have made itself apparent as von Zarovich scoffed and said, “What difference will what happens to your body make to you once you are already dead? All it will be doing otherwise is taking up space in some cemetery, slowly wasting away into soil as the worms eat away at it. I can at least make sure that it’s being put to good use. It’s not even as though if I’m asking you to rush to your death, just whenever it so happens to happen. But if this is really too much to ask of you, then we’re done here.” He started to walked away from the shelf of magic scrolls. “I’m not giving away something this precious without making sure I get something of similar worth in return.”

Rarity grabbed onto the edge of von Zarovich’s black garbs, stopping him. “A-alright. In exchange for a way to revive Sp-, I mean, Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz, I will provide you with the body of the Squid Wizard and with—“ She winced. “—my own body upon my demise, to do with as you will.”

“Wonderful. Then we have a deal.” He reached into the sleeve of his robes and took out a knife with a wickedly curved blade. Rarity flinched, and her hoof instinctively went for her own weapon, but all he did with the knife was simply extend its hilt toward Rarity. “For your mane,” von Zarovich instructed. “Or tail, either works. I just need a good hoofful of hairs.”

Taking the knife in between her teeth, Rarity made a careful slice through her tail, removing its tip. Even just that small of a cut left her tail somewhat unbalanced and its curl incomplete, but hopefully, it wouldn’t take long before that little piece grew back. She scooped up the fallen strands of indigo and placed them and the knife into the waiting hoof of von Zarovich. “Is this enough?”

“It’s plenty.” He stored the hairs in an amber flask then put it and the blade back into his robes and returned to the shelf. After some seconds of searching, he removed two scrolls sealed in crystal from their compartments and held them out to Rarity. “And here you are. You’ll be needing one for each of your dead friends.”

Rarity carefully took the heavy scrolls and cradled them awkwardly in her forelegs. Getting these up the stairs back to the campus building’s ground floor like this was going to be next to impossible. How she wished she had brought her saddlebags with her today. “So, um, how do I make sure these won’t just turn my friends into zombies?”

“Hm? Oh right, that.” He dismissed Rarity’s concerns with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, there’s no danger of that happening.”

“But you told us—“

“I said that to see how you would react and to mislead Dean Thigliwt,” von Zarovich explained with a wave. “There just the matter of figuring out how to activate it, but once that’s taken care of, you just need to make sure the corpse hasn’t been a, well, corpse for more than ten days and that it isn’t too damaged.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat the last part?”

“Well, the spell can’t bring back anything that’s missing, so if the head or the heart or anything else that’s necessary is gone, it won’t work.”

“I meant the part before that.”

“Ah. Well there is a time limit, up to ten days. The spell won’t look work on anyone that been dead for longer than that, but there shouldn’t be any issues as long as you get to them before then.”

The scrolls slipped out of Rarity’s grasp, and with a loud gasp von Zarovich dove forward, catching them before the glass shattered against the floor. “Careful!” he shouted, his cry ringing through the room as he slowly stood back up with the scrolls pressed against his chest. “What’s the matter?”

Rarity swallowed hard as she tried to restore some moisture to her mouth and return feeling to her limp tongue. “It took me three weeks just to get here.”

“Oh?” Slowly, von Zarovich’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh. How unfortunate.” He made his way back to the shelves and began to put the scrolls back in their proper places.

“Is there anything else here?” Rarity asked, her tone choppy and uneven as she struggled to quell her rising desperation. “A spell with a more generous time limit, perhaps?”

“I’m afraid not. We do have something that’ll preserve a corpse and essentially make it so that no time passes for it, a fairly simple ritual really, but it won’t do you any good now.” He paused briefly as he tilted his head to one side in thought. “However, I will admit that our collection here is most likely incomplete. Much of Valmeyjar’s temple remains unexplored, especially the crypts below. There’s a magic barrier that prevents undead from getting into the lower levels of the temple, which is odd considering all of the necromantic magic we’ve managed to find in there, and we haven’t been able to dispel it as of yet.”

“What about living beings like ourselves? Can we get through this barrier?”

“We can, sure, but no one here really wants to get their own hooves or claws or whatever else they have dirty or risk getting hurt in some trap over something like this, it’s why we have zombies and wights around, and asking another school for help could potentially rob us of our one advantage over them.” He let out a low hum and brushed a hoof along the bristling end of his mustache. “However, I suppose there’s no real harm if I were to allow an outsider who’s unaffiliated with any of the other schools like, say, yourself take a look, and if you did find anything useful, it would be to the both of our benefits, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rarity nodded as she quickly caught onto what von Zarovich was suggesting. “And you think there’ll be something deeper within this temple that can save my friends?” she asked.

“It’s certainly possible, we found all of these in there, after all,” von Zarovich said with a gesture to the shelf behind him. “Who know what that barrier is guarding. Just, ah, a fair warning. I doubt the magic keeping away the undead will be the temple crypt’s sole defense. I believe I mentioned there possibly being traps?”

“You did. Is that something to be expected?”

“From what we’ve experienced in all the other ruins, oh yes. The vault where we found that triple fireball spell I spoke of earlier? I almost had to rebuild my entire legion from scratch after that was finally explored in its entirety.” He looked away to hide his shudder then turned back to Rarity and cleared his throat. “Now, if you’re willing to accept some danger and make sure to keep all that you find between us, I‘ll grant you access to Valmeyjar’s temple and show you how to get there. Luckily for you, it’s location has been stable for some time now. Just be aware that beyond that, any additional assistance from myself or my school will be limited.”

“Hm, and I’m assuming that I can’t seek any help from Elkraps?” Rarity asked.

“You assume correctly,” snorted von Zarovich. “Not a word to Dean Thigliwt nor to anyone else from any of the other schools. If you can find other beings who aren’t part of the schools and would be willing to accompany you, I suppose I could allow that. It shouldn’t be an issue, it’s not like they’d be able to understand anything there anyways.”

Well, it was better than having to explore some dark, dangerous, and most certainly dirty crypts all by her lonesome. Steel Nerves probably wouldn’t need too much persuasion beyond the promise of possible action and excitement, and maybe Biala Diyn could be convinced to come along as well. “How quickly can we begin this expedition?” Rarity asked as von Zarovich led her back to the chamber’s entrance, past the shelves of secret spells.

“As early as tomorrow morning, if you so wish. The sooner the better for you, I’d imagine.” He stopped to give Rarity a glance over his shoulder. “Or will you need some time to prepare?”

“No, tomorrow morning should be fine,” Rarity answered, and the two of them continued onward until they had reached the room’s end. A gate appeared at von Zarovich’s touch just as it did when they had first entered, and stepping through it, they returned to the fields of frost and the walking dead.

36. Those that Came Before

Those that Came Before

Elkraps had remained just outside the blocky structure, waiting in the cold. She and von Zarovich shared the briefest of pleasantries before Elkraps immediately turned to Rarity and launched a barrage of questions at her. How was she? What did she see? Was there really a way to bring Garbunkle back? What was being demanded of her in return? All this and more made its way before Rarity who struggled to keep up with Elkraps’s inquisitive torrent. She did her best to answer the most innocuous questions while, under the watchful gaze of von Zarovich, deflecting and dodging the more invasive ones until the dean of the school of necromancy finally jumped in to explain their agreement for silence.

Being kept out of the loop clearly displeased the unicorn, but after putting herself in von Zarovich’s position at his request, she appeared to at least understand his desire for confidentiality, and though the confirmation that her old apprentice could be safely revived wasn’t enough to completely satisfy her, she did stop her questioning, and there was a noticeable lightness in her steps as Jeeves the undead butler guided her and Rarity back to the village square they had initially ended up in. After saying their goodbyes to von Zarovich and he left some final instructions for tomorrow morning, Rarity and Elkraps entered through the space between two black pillars and suddenly found themselves back in the ringed hall, right before the mural of a dark figure grabbing hold of a skeleton’s front appendage. Then it was back up that exhaustive, winding stairway, a trip that seemed to take them twice as long and felt so much more difficult than it had been going down now that gravity’s momentum was working against them on top of one other particular factor. Eventually, they made it to top and returned the main campus building proper where Elkraps bid Rarity the best of luck and a reminder to keep in touch before the two mares parted ways.

A good several hours had passed, and from the most recent toll of the clocktowers, it was now late in the afternoon. To her welcomed surprise, Rarity discovered that Biala Diyn was still here in the lobby. The stallion explained that he had followed her of concern and suspicion over her sudden withdrawal, and when he could go no further, he chose to wait in the lobby for her to return.

“Wait, does that mean you’ve been just standing here since noon?” an incredulous Rarity asked.

“I, may have sat down for a few minutes or so,” Biala admitted, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “My time with my order has taught me the virtue of patience,” he said when Rarity continued to simply stare at him.

“I don’t suppose anyone else is still around?”

“The minotaur had initially joined me, no doubt to satisfy his own nosiness, but he was unable to stay for very long at all,” Biala answered with a contemptuous sniff. “In any case, it is good to see that you are alright, but you should know that in your absence, the group has made its decision. We will wait for another three days but no more than that.” His stern face grew sterner still as he frowned. “If you are unable to conclude your business here by then, I am afraid you will have to make your way back home without us.”

Rarity nodded. “Then I shall do my best to finish everything before then. Speaking of which, right before I had to leave, I believe you were expressing Interest in ways of assisting me.” She tilted her head slightly sideways and put on a small, innocent smile.

“I did, and I am still willing to help if I can. What of it?”

“Well...” and Rarity jumped into a short summary of tomorrow’s plan, explaining that she was being sent to some temple ruins in search of ancient magic and that the company of a brave, strong stallion like Biala in such a frightful and possibly dangerous place would certainly be appreciated. There was no mention of the school of necromancy being involved, both out of respect for Sergei von Zarovich’s demands of secrecy and uncertainty to how a stallion as overtly righteous as Biala would react to working with wizards who make abominable puppets from the dearly departed should he happen to even know what necromancy was, and after a few moments of consideration and some questions about the temple, namely who had it been dedicated to and would there be any intention of desecration, Biala Diyn wholeheartedly agreed to lend his aid.

He became significantly less enthused when Rarity told him that she wanted Steel Nerves to come along as well, but when he could not dissuade her and even had to admit that his brutish strength could be an asset if properly directed, he agreed to bring her to the minotaur who according to Biala was currently lodging with the refugees in a cheap hostel after blowing through most of his earnings. As Rarity expected, it didn’t take long to convince Steel to join them, and his face immediately lit up at the promise of peril and the potential of treasure. Rarity went over a few final details with them like when and where they would be meeting before it was time to head back to the Hag’s Haven.

She took some time after yet another hearty dinner, tonight a pot pie oozing with thick mushroom gravy, to organize her saddlebags, and as she laid her daggers, bedroll, the few portions of dried travel rations, and sunscreens out on the floor in front of her, Rarity wondered if she had been too hasty. As von Zarovich had suggested, she, not wanting to further the time Spike and Discord were to spend as corpses any longer than they already had, was indeed in a rush, but perhaps she could have spared a day to better prepare herself. Her current supplies made an embarrassing display when compared to what Elder Woods’s had first provided her, and in hindsight she really should have put more effort in replacing her lost items back at Cowdim-La.

Rarity packed her bags and set them aside for tomorrow. Yes, the smart thing to do would have been to delay, but she still had no intention of doing so. It was a little late to call the excursion off now, and with the day of her companions’s departure established and looming over her, the pressure to get this done as soon as possible was even greater. She would just have to make do with what she had.

Morning came, and Rarity quickly got ready and replaced her new robes with the old traveler’s cloak. Once everything was set, she headed out and made her way to the main campus building. She wasn’t too shocked to find Biala Diyn already waiting for her at the front gate, but seeing Steel Nerves here as well took Rarity aback, though from the minotaur’s yawning and tired frown and the dirty glances being thrown in Biala’s direction, it didn’t seem like getting here early was his idea. What was more surprising to see was Biala and Steel already becoming acquainted with the fourth and final member of their crew, a beige blue diamond dog in a brown jacket and a dapper hat.

Athkatla Bones the world famous archeologist and explorer extraordinaire had been waiting in front of the magic mural that served as a portal to the necromancy department, and the moment Rarity had stepped out of that picture, the diamond dog latched onto her. Even while they were climbing up all those steps Athkatla Bones still found the breath between pants to hound Rarity with questions about von Zarovich and his position as head of the schools of magic’s archeological sector and Rarity’s relation to him and if she’d be willing to put in a good word for her because she had been trying to get access to the ruins rumored to be nearby for months now already.

It might have been that her encounter with von Zarovich and all that he imparted to her had left her mentally drained, maybe Rarity just didn’t have the patience to listen to the diamond dog and her likely exaggerated stories of raiding tombs and braving the uncharted, or maybe she was just so distracted with trying to get to the top of this ridiculously large staircase. Whatever the reason, it took Rarity way too long for her own liking to recognize the possible opportunity that had essentially thrown itself at her hooves. Their ascension slowed as Athkatla’s one-sided pestering turned into a true conversation between two creatures. Rarity, now paying close attention, learned more of Athkatla Bones’ exploits and how she came to the schools of magic after hearing the legends of the precursors of magic and the treasures still said to be hidden within their desolate halls. In return, Athkatla was quietly told of Rarity’s upcoming trip to the temple of Valmeyjar which after some oohing, awing, and expressions of envy naturally transitioned into Rarity offering her a place on her expedition, an offer that the diamond dog eagerly accepted with her tail wagging away furiously.

It did not take Rarity long to introduce Athkatla and explain her presence here to Biala and Steel who greeted the bipedal canine with a mix of cautious acceptance, curious suspicion, and sleepy indifference, and once that was all settled, they headed inside. Rarity led the way to the front desk and told the receptionist on duty that she had an appointment with Dean von Zarovich, just as the necromancer had instructed her. After confirming the appointment and checking Rarity’s pass, the receptionist brought the group through the building and to an office door that creaked open at the first knock.

“Come in,” came the deep, thunderous voice of Sergei von Zarovich from within. Every creature save for the mare from the front desk obeyed and stepped into a simple standard work office that was astonishingly tame when considering the stallion’s line of work and how his school’s department presented itself. The only thing that felt correctly characteristic was a gilded equine skull that sat on a simple wood shelf between rows of plain and unassuming books. The owner of this place could be found sitting in the same sort of large plush chair that Elkraps had had in her office. As they drew closer to his desk, von Zarovich shoved his interrupted readings into one of the stacks of papers cluttering his desk, each pile held down by a slab or chunk of onyx.

“Ah, Princess Shmarity,” von Zarovich hailed, his red mustache twitching as he smiled. “And I see you’ve brought guests.” As he nodded to each of the beings standing before his desk, Rarity noticed that his smile faltered when he had turned to Athkatla Bones, and when he got to Biala, it almost became a frown. “I can’t say I was expecting you to bring a paladin from the Green Order,” von Zarovich said, pointing to the symbol hanging from Biala’s neck which he swiftly tucked back into his tunic. “Well, I suppose I did say you could bring anyone who wasn’t part of the school.” He ended his small, uncomfortable chuckle with a sigh.

Biala frowned as well and was about to say something when Steel Nerves suddenly jumped in to say, “Hey, uh, was I hearing things or did you just call her ‘Princess?’”

“Oh, that.” Now it was Rarity’s turn to force a laugh as she struggled to think of an explanation without having to reveal her identity as the princess of Spiketopia which would have only complicated matters. “It’s, my given name. My parents were, are an eccentric pair with some rather lofty goals for their children. I just, I find it gauche at times and prefer to go by middle name is all.”

Steel Nerves slowly started to nod, fooled by her quick deception, but from their lifted brows and squinting eyes, it didn’t look like either Biala or Athkatla were going to be as accepting. Any further scrutiny was interrupted by von Zarovich clearing his throat. “Let’s get back to business. I trust that, ahem, Miss Shmarity has already explained to you all what will be happening today?”

“Only that we are to explore the ruins of an ancient temple.”

Biala’s response brought back von Zarovich’s smile. “Good, then I have little else to add other than that your focus will be on the catacombs found on the lower floors. If the temple of Valmeyjar’s structure is like all the others that we have already excavated, it shouldn’t be difficult to navigate and should not take you longer than a day or perhaps two at most to get through it all. Just, see what you can find down there.”

“And, uh, we get to keep what we find, right?” asked Steel, holding up a hand.

“Any gold, silver, or gems that are brought back with you are yours to do with as you will, but scrolls and the like belong to the schools of magic without question,” von Zarovich answered with a stern stare toward Athkatla. “Everything else is negotiable. I trust these terms are, acceptable?”

There was a round of nods and a lack of objections. “Excellent. Now, Miss Shmarity, your pass?” The stallion held his hoof out to Rarity and waited for her to place in it the parchment she had received when she had first arrived at the schools of magic. Rarity watched as von Zarovich unraveled the paper and wrote down a couple of short lines in crimson ink. He punctuated the last sentence with a slam of a rubber stamp that left a shimmering image of a raven perched upon the horn of a unicorn’s skull before giving the pass back to Rarity along with a larger roll of parchment. “Here you are. Just show your pass to the concierge at the exit, any of the exits on the town’s edge’ll do, and they’ll bring you as close to the temple’s location as they can,” von Zarovich explained. He pointed to the second parchment. “This map will show you the rest of the way to Valmeyjar’s temple. It should be accurate. There’ll be a bit of a walk, so unless you have more questions, I’d suggest setting off now while the sun’s still low.”

Rarity turned to the others, and when no one spoke up, she thanked von Zarovich, and the group left the office. They made their way out of the building and onto the streets, making little small talk as they continued toward the schools’s borders and stopping only to grab a bag of plain donuts to eat along the way and to fill their canteens with fresh water. Some minutes of walking later, the road beneath Rarity’s hooves suddenly vanished and the world around her went dark. Someone beside her screamed over her own gasp.

“W-what’s going on? What happened?” Steel shouted. He swung his fist up in the air as if to strike away the shadows.

“Calm yourself,” said Biala. Despite the darkness, his annoyed, impatient frown was easily visible to Rarity. “We are simply entering the boundaries of the schools of magic.”

“Ah, is like the entrance to schools then,” Athkatla Bones observed. “We see those annoying know-it-all cats, I wonder?”

The diamond dog didn’t have to wonder for very long as a glow in the distance soon turned out to be a candle sitting in front of the two robed feline folk that had greeted and brought Rarity, Biala, and the rest of their band of travelers to the schools in the first place. The green-eyed one looked as though they had gotten at most a hour of sleep since Rarity’s last encounter with them, and their golden eyed brother still wore that same smug, catty grin.

“Leaving the schools?” the tired looking cat yawned out.

“Only for the day,” Rarity said, placing her pass on the desk in front of them. With another yawn, the cat lazily flicked the paper open and read through it. The pass was returned with a reluctant sigh, and the cat slowly, forcefully lifted themselves out of their chair.

“Alright, fine, follow me,” they instructed as they got around the table and motioned every creature forward while their still seated colleague waved them goodbye. Once they had gotten to a point where the desk and the other feline were no longer visible, their guide stopped and turned to face the group.

“Per Dean Sergei von Zarovich’s authorization, Princess Shmarity and all those with her, yada yada, something about permission, have fun with old buildings and stuff I guess,” the cat mumbled as they tucked one paw behind their back and lifted the other to examine the space beneath a claw. Light suddenly flooded the area, cutting through the darkness and leaving everyone blinded for several seconds. When the light finally dissipated and her sight had returned after some blinking, Rarity discovered that she and her group were back in the desert’s coarse golden plains, standing right before the massive doors of a tower that reached endlessly up into the sky above.

It wasn’t the same location they had entered the schools through, at least Rarity didn’t think it was. She could spot several brightly colored flags flying from poles out in the distance, something she was sure she would have noticed on the journey here had those flags been there initially.

“So what now?” asked Steel Nerves as he stepped forward and looked around. “I don’t see any temple anywhere.”

Rarity took out the map that von Zarovich had provided her, and the first thing that popped out to her was the rainbow of triangles scattered about the parchment. Each triangle had its color clearly written inside of it in addition to a proper noun like Manus’s Manor, Ryndolg’s Arch, and Halls of Juniper, though there were a few that had a question mark in the place of a name. Rarity quickly skimmed through the map, and sure enough, she found Temple of Valmeyjar marked down in a purple triangle. Beyond that, there were no other symbols, no sketches or descriptions of landmarks.

She glanced up from the map, and with there being little else to look at, she turned her gaze toward the flags out yonder. As Rarity watched the colorful fabric flutter in a passing breeze, her eyes started to widened with understanding.

“What is the matter?” Biala asked, and she held the map out to the stallion and pointed toward the flags.

“We need to start moving that way,” Rarity explained. “If my interpretation is correct, each of those flags we see over there corresponds to a different location. Valmeyjar’s temple should be marked with a flag that’s a royal purple or perhaps a strong violet color.”

A shadow extended over Rarity, Biala, and the map. “A what purple?” said the minotaur standing over them.

“This one,” Rarity answered, pointing. Steel’s confusion was understandable, there were a few other purples on the map. “In the middle of the chartreuse flag and the vermilion one.”

Steel Nerves turned to Athkatla, and the diamond dog just shrugged with an equally bewildered expression. “You mean, the one between the light green and the orange red?”

Rarity sighed. “Yes, that one.”

“Then let us be off,” Biala exclaimed with a step and a nod toward the flags. “The sun will be directly over our heads if we do not hurry.”

The rest of the group followed after, and they marched across the dunes at a brisk pace while the sun slowly creeped up the sky, its radiance beaming down on their backs. By the time they had reached the first flag pole and the crumbling colosseum it represented every creature was red and sweating from the intense heat, and what shelter the ruined structures they passed by could provided them was only a temporary respite as they forced themselves onward. Twice they stopped and let a collective breath of relief only for Rarity to shake her head and point out that the color of the flag before them was some other shade of purple like lavender or mauve, and if any creature was skeptical, they just had to read the engravings on the pole to realize that they had not yet reached their destination.

Finally, they arrived at the spot indicated on the map, and before them, behind that oh so very royal purple banner, was a mostly intact chapel made of sandstone. Time had smoothed away some of the edges, and all that remained of its gated entrance were some rusted frames, but the walls stood tall and proud, maintaining the shape of the building, and as she and every creature else approached the temple’s threshold, a silence settled upon the group as they stood within its cooling shade. Even in its current derelict state, Rarity could still feel a quieting air of veneration coming from the structure, a remnant of the atmosphere this place must have carried in its heyday.

They took a short rest at the doorstep, giving themselves a little time to drink some water and recover from the trip here. Once every creature was ready, they headed inside and were immediately met by a simple altar, nothing more extravagant than a block of bleached marble, in the very first room. Right behind the altar was a cracked and fade fresco that depicted a light green mare with wings and a long horn peeking out from beneath her veil. On her right side were the images of skeletons partially buried and within shadows, and to the mare’s left ponies danced joyously in the light. A crescent moon hung over the mare’s head, and at her hooves there were rows of runes, though unfortunately much of the message had peeled away with the wall, and of what was legible, Rarity soon discovered that it was in a language that neither she nor Princess Shmarity had any knowledge of.

“Hey, can you read that?” she heard Steel ask Biala.

“I am a warrior, a protector of the weak and the defenseless, not a scholar or a seeker of knowledge. My talents lie elsewhere.”

“So, that’s a no? Because you could’ve just said no.”

“Is in Celestial.”

All eyes turned to Athkatla Bones. The diamond dog was crouched next to painted image, brushing the dust from the runes with her paw. “Celestial?” Biala Diyn repeated. “As in, the language of the heavenly realms?”

Athkatla nodded. “‘We who follow Ver, no, Valmeyjar’s path, um, death has lost her hold over us,’” she translated out loud for all the hear. “Not sure of rest, too damaged to read.”

“Death has lost her hold over us?” Steel Nerves placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hard to say.” Athkatla’s ears drooped. “Too much missing. Maybe talking about afterlife, or maybe temple worshippers thought beliefs led to immortality.”

“It matters little to us,” Biala interjected. “We were not sent here to speculate on the religious doctrines of those who were before us, and to make flippant assumptions while within these sacred walls would be most disrespectful.” The stallion pulled out his pendant, the one of a whip and a rounded staff crossed over to form a X, and touched it briefly to his forehead before putting the symbol away. He then pointed to the pair of paths that went around the painted wall, leading deeper into the temple. “Come, let us find these catacombs and be done with this quickly so that this place may be at peace once more.”

Steel let out a derisive snort, but no other disagreements were raised, and as Rarity followed Biala down one way while Steel and Athkatla Bones’s went the other, she looked back at the alicorn on the wall and the message in that strange, indecipherable writing beneath her. Despite lacking in both context or substance, what was written there filled Rarity with an optimism she had been too afraid to indulge, and she struggled to contain her excitement and keep herself from rushing forward.

As it turned out, both paths met quickly on the other side of the wall, wrapping together and bringing the split group back into one before a single hallway. The space between the walls was small, and they were forced to move in a single file line, with Biala in the front followed by Athkatla and Rarity and finally Steel squeezing through at the rear. They thankfully did not have to suffer the minotaur’s complaining for long as the hall soon opened up into a wide spacious room. Sunlight streamed through the massive hole in the ceiling and shined down on a raised podium in the room’s center where perhaps sermons or ceremonies were once held before a great gathering. Cracked statues with missing limbs and even heads stood against the walls, most of their features having long since been worn away from age. Each of the two side walls had a trio of passageways, and in the very back, at the base of a pedestal, was a set of stairs going down below the dusty ground floor.

The way to the crypts beneath the temple was obvious, but Rarity would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t share Steel and Athkatla’s curiosity of what laid at the ends of the other ways, and after some time and cajoling, Biala surrendered and permitted the short detour. It probably took them longer to convince the stallion than it did to explore the bare bone auxiliary rooms, and after finding only centuries worth in dust and some broken pottery, they returned to the assembly hall and started down the stairway.

Like the hall before, there wasn’t a lot space to maneuver around each other, which left them having to descent one at a time, one step at a time. The stairs were several, and progress was slow, but it gave Rarity time to marvel over how bright the area still was despite how deep below the surface they were at this point. The source of the light soon came into view, but seeing blazing torches held in place by sconces yielded more questions than it did answers. Who had set up these golden flames? The school of necromancy was the most obvious culprit, but Rarity was under the impression that this section of the temple was completely unexplored. Or had they not yet reached the barrier that kept away their undead servants? In any case, the fire’s glow suggested that they had been lit recently, but when Steel Nerves went to grab one of the torches off the wall, the aged wood immediately splintered apart in his grasp, showering every creature below him with sparks that dissipated harmlessly before they could land.

Some time and several stairs later, the company came to a sudden halt as the stallion up in front stopped and held up both a hoof and the rest of the line. Those in the back received the message a little late, resulting in some bumping and stumbling and the exchange of dirty glances, but once everyone had recovered, Biala brought their attention to the well illuminated floor below. “We are approaching the end. Be ready.”

Biala’s tone and the look in his eye finished his warning. Be ready for anything. Carefully, they made their way down the last of the steps, the air heavy with a tension so thick it could have been pierced by the blade Rarity found herself reaching for. She tried calm herself, tried not to think of von Zarovich’s mentions of the unknown dangers that awaited them. Even Steel Nerves’s nerves seemed to be on edge as his forced, hurried, almost haggard breathing echoing over their heads. When they had all entered the sizable antechamber that was waiting for them at the bottom safe and sound, every creature released a sigh of relief.

The room was a rather mundane one with a simple floor of stone tiles and pedestrian walls of cut stone bricks. There was, however, a distinct lack of the erosion that plagued the temple’s main floor, most likely due to the room’s location deep underground protecting it from the abrasive elements, though dust still made its home here. Several such piles littered the floor beneath an archway in the back that stood over the path forward. Unlike the rest of the room, the bricks that made up archway were of something far more precious than simple rock. Their surfaces had a silver sheen that was brighter and more reflective than what any purity of silver could manage. Platinum.

The others besides Rarity took notice of the valuable metal, and Steel Nerves started to walk ahead of the group with an expression of obvious greed and want plastered on his face when not Biala but Athkatla tugged him back by his belt.

“Hey, what do you think—“

“Look,” the diamond dog hissed, jabbing a paw at one of the large mounds of dust and ash. Something was sticking out, something long and white and with nubs on the end. A femur, Rarity realized as the blood drained from her face, and the others soon saw it as well. More bits and pieces of broken and scorched bone could spotted among the ash now that it was brought to their attention.

Steel jumped back and threw up his arms in a protective stance, but nothing happened. “You, uh, think this is, uh, you know, a trap?” he asked between gulps.

“Maybe.” Athkatla sauntered past the shaken minotaur, pulling out a thin pocket razor and a magnifying glass from her jacket. “I check.”

She carefully ran the knife’s edge between the space of the platinum blocks and scrutinized every surface on her side of the arch. When those long minutes resulted in nothing conclusive, Athkatla took out a couple ball bearing and rolled them across the floor under the archway. Nothing happened. She stepped back and with a collapsible rod began to tap at the blocks of the archway and on the ground, and again nothing happened. As the rest of the group watched and time passed on uneventfully, the anxiety from earlier wore off and was replaced with boredom, which left them all vulnerable to the shock of seeing beautiful yet alien script suddenly lit up along the length of the archway when Athkatla pressed her paw directly against it. The surrounding torches dimmed, making the glowing arch and its runes the predominant provider of light.

Slowly, Biala removed his hoof from the hilt of his scimitar and looked to Athkatla. “Is it Celestial as well?” he asked.

“Yes.” Athkatla stepped back for a better view of the text, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “Ahead lies the final resting place of her descendants. Only their remains may pass.”

“Okay, so what does that mean?” questioned Steel Nerves. “Who’s this her? Is it safe for us to go through?”

Athkatla shrugged. “Doesn’t say. Found no traps though. Maybe safe, maybe not.”

As the group shared a look of unease, Rarity tried making sense of the second half of Athkatla’s reading. Only their remains may pass, that’s what was said. Remains, as in what remained after death perhaps? Was this what was keeping von Zarovich’s animated bodies from getting further?

“Does anyone have any rope?” Rarity asked, and Athkatla answered by pulling out a coil. “Now if you would be so kind as to tie it around me. Just my back leg will do, thank you. I have reason to believe that we should all be able to pass under that archway safely, but if I’m wrong, I’d appreciate it if some creature were to pull me out of the way of impending danger.”

It was the best idea they’ve had, and with no other options coming forward that would take them forward, the rope’s other end went into Steel’s mighty hand. The minotaur gave it an experimental tug that sent Rarity a good couple of feet towards him, and after he raised a thumb up at her, Rarity started towards the piles of ash. Her body stiffened, preparing to spring back at the first sign of danger as she heard a low hum come from above as she first stepped under the arch. That hum continued up until she had reached the other side and turned to face the rest of her companions, but it wasn’t until they had all also made it across that she allowed herself to relax and release the breath she held. The rope was returned and stored away, and the group continued on into the larger room the first had led them to.

In addition to being more spacious, this new, rectangular room was also most definitely more decorative. The walls were vibrantly painted with scenes of ponies rising with the sun, frolicking about and playing, and finally falling asleep as the moon watched over their heads. In the center of the room there was a row of more life sized statues, but unlike those they had encountered upstairs, these were all intact and molded from gold, silver, and bronze instead of being carved out of stone. Their painstakingly detailed faces, Rarity noted, were embellished with cuts of gemstones, from diamond and opal teeth to eyes of emerald, sapphire, or topaz on top of the actual jewelry that the statues wore. Each statue was of a different mare or stallion, but every single one had both a set of wings and a horn and stood as tall as Princess Celestia.

A number of paths laid before the group, six in total if they were to include the one that had brought them here, three going through the wall ahead of them and the other three on the opposite wall. The main passage, the one that ran directly center to the entrance Rarity and the rest of them came through, was made obvious by yet another arch of platinum.

Biala sighed as he regarded all of the other paths before him. “I am supposing that the rest of you will be wanting to explore these other sections before continuing on. So be it, but we must stay—“

There was flash of light, and what sounded like the roar of a mighty beast suddenly rang out followed by a pained yelp. The rest of the group turned to Steel and saw that he was clutching at his face. Steam waft from his arms and hand as he lowered them to reveal the hot red burns on his features. The gold mare standing next to him shone brightly for a moment longer before the light faded.

“All I did was touch it. That’s all I did, I swear,” Steel said, wincing as the burns caused the skin under his blue fur to crack.

Biala scowled as he marched over to the hurt minotaur and grabbed him by his raw cheeks, pulling Steel down to his eye level and causing the larger creature to whimper. “It is not life threatening,” he announced after some examination. “You will live with this folly, so let it be a lesson.” He released Steel. “We must stay vigilant.” Biala turned to eye Athkatla. “And respectful.”

Athkatla scoffed and rolled her eyes before following Biala toward the side passage furtherest from them. Rarity started after them but paused to check on Steel Nerves herself, and as she turned she caught the minotaur slip a baby blue sapphire that was about the size of her hoof into his pouch. She looked to the statue next to him and noticed that it was missing an eye.

“What? You heard what that stallion from the school said. Gems are ours, and it’s not like the statue’s going to miss it,” Steel said to Rarity as he walked past her and her judgment expression. “It’s not going to do any good down here. I can at least put it to use.”

Rarity continued to frown but made no attempts to rebuke him. Steel did have a point that she was finding difficult to dispute, and while Rarity found the defacing of such a gorgeous masterpiece distasteful, it seemed wrong and almost hypocritical to criticize after she had gone through the pockets of a dead slaver in search of loose change a little under a week ago. Informing the others felt counterproductive at this point, so Rarity held her tongue as she and Steel rejoined the party.

The side chamber consisted of a single solid golden prism surrounded by walls of numerous compartments closed off by locked drawers. Each drawer had an inscription upon its surface in what was as far as Rarity could tell the same written language as the other texts they had encountered here. When she and Steel Nerves’ arrived, Athkatla was hard at work trying to undo the lock on one of the compartments. She had, Biala explained, already determined that there was nothing special about block in the chamber’s center outside possibly the fact that it was of gilded iron and not actually of complete gold.

They didn’t have to wait long before there was a click and a short satisfied snicker. Steel hurried to the diamond dog’s side. “Alright! What’ve we got?”

“Wait, are we sure it isn’t trapped?”

“Traps found.” Athkatla pointed Rarity to a broken chain and a couple of broken tiles with faint sigils written on them that were on the ground. “Traps gone,” she grunted as she grabbed the drawer’s handle and slowly pulled it toward her.

A vile, sour stench escaped the opened compartment, causing everyone in the room to cough and gag. Stuffed inside was the mummified body of a mare, her face concealed by an intricate mask of gold possibly shaped like that of the pony’s face in life and her body wrapped tightly in strips of cloth. The body was lain on it back, and the mare’s forelegs were forced to fold right below her neck so they held onto a small silver plate. Ignoring Biala’s protests, Athkatla wiggles the rounded plate out of the mummy’s grip and held it up for every creature to see. Stamped into the silver was the image of a set of eyes encompassed by seven stars.

From her coat, Athkatla took out a notebook and a piece of charcoal and quickly rubbed an imprint of the plate onto a page. When she had finished, she started to put everything away, including the plate.

“You are not taking that with us.”

Athkatla frowned at Biala. “Why not?”

The stallion’s entire beard bristled at the question. “It is not ours to take. I did not come here to disturb the dead.”

“Dead not disturbed.” Athkatla Bones got up and closed the compartment with the preserved body. “Dead resting. Dead not have things. It no belong to them or in this tomb. It belongs in place where everyone can see and learn. Dead not care. We care. The living care.” She held up the silver disc and tapped it. “We can learn, can better respect by learning about them than by just leaving old bodies to rot.”

A dark glower brought a menacing shadow across Biala Diyn’s face. He stepped toward the argumentative diamond dog, but his path to her was quickly blocked by Steel Nerves’s broad body. The minotaur stood there, staring down with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out and smirking in reply to Biala’s glare. Biala turned to his fellow equine, but Rarity shook her head and walked over to Athkatla and Steel’s side, having found Athkatla’s spoken sentiments surprisingly convincing and altruistic.

Biala’s scowl deepened for a moment before he released a tired sigh and went to a corner to grumble and sulk and watch the others unlock the next compartment. It too was holding a mummy, and along with the same kind of silver plate and symbol there was also a necklace of pearls to uncover. Half an hour or so and six drawers later, they had gathered two growing piles, one of snapped chains and runes chipped out of place and the other of those rounded plates of silver, all with the same image of eyes and stars, and miscellaneous jewelry.

It was at this point, after pulling out just another equine body in wrappings, that Steel Nerves was showing a loss of interest. He started to yawn and wander around the room, tugging at the other compartments that were still locked until Athkatla would take a brief break from her work to bark at Steel and tell him to knock it off. After the third interruption, Athkatla huffed and dropped her tools. With her ears drooped low, she gave Rarity a look that was equal parts frustrated and apologetic. “Maybe we look other places now, check other rooms. Come back later.”

Rarity glanced around the room and at all of the containers they still hadn’t gotten to. Part of her wondered and worried over the possibility that the spell she sought was in one of these locked caskets, but at the same time she had to admit that she was also getting tired of pulling out mummies and relieving them of the same or similar earthly effects. It would be nice to have change of pace and a break in the tedium, and who knew how much more they had to see of this place. Rarity nodded, and once they had secured their findings, splitting some of the silver and jewelry amongst the group except for Biala Diyn who scowled at the very suggestion and leaving the rest where it could be picked up at a later time, the group left the chamber and moved on to the next one.

They quickly discovered it to be pretty much identical to first. Same block of gold plated iron right in the middle, same walls and rows of locked drawers, same plates of silver with the same engraving clutched in the forelegs of the embalmed inhabitants. The next room was just as disappointing as was the one after that, and at that last one they didn’t even bother opening any of the compartments. That just left them the main passage leading deeper into the temple’s underground crypt, and so that way they went. The group walked at a leisurely stride, giving Athkatla time to check the floor for irregularities and anything else that might be indicative of a dangerous, hidden trap.

Fortunate favored them today as they entered the next area without incident. They had stepped into a wide extended hallway that stretched by Rarity’s best estimate a good fifty feet from end to end. Like the room behind them, the walls were painted with the images of ponies going about their lives, but Rarity also noticed that there were also several instances of that symbol they had found, with a set of eyes and stars separating each scene.

And then there was the floor of the hall which was made up of distinct square tiles, each square large enough to carry an adult pony like Rarity or even Biala, and every one had a picture upon it. Some had the face of an equine at different ages, others images of diverse weapons or artisan tools while still others had all sorts of animals or the sun at different times of the day or the moon at its various stages or the gradual closing of an eye in separate steps. With such a varied assortment of pictures, there didn’t appear to any rhyme or reason to how the tiles were positioned, and Rarity struggled to come up with an explanation as to why the floor was decorated in such a seemingly random fashion.

Rarity started to take another step forward to get a better look of tiles, but Athkatla stopped her and the rest of the group and motioned their attention to the ground right before the first row of pictures. It was more of that ancient text she couldn’t understand, Rarity realized, written in gleaming gold font.

37. The Lost Sanctum

The Lost Sanctum

“Great, another one,” grumbled Steel. He folded his arms across his chest. “So what‘s this one say?”

Their canine translator crouched down and squinted at the message. “She who controls the, uh. Hmm. Oh, tides! She who controls the tides of battle, grants victory over death. Her sanctum, belongs to we who, follow her path.”

Steel Nerves groaned. “Okay, what’s that supposed to even mean? Why is everything here so dang cryptic?”

“Here is crypt, should be cryptic,” Athkatla said with a quiet chortle, and as banal as the joke was, it still caught Rarity off guard and caused her lips to curl into a small smile.

“I don’t get it. What’s so funny?”

“It is nothing for you to worry about,” Biala dryly said, clearly not appreciating the attempt at humor. “Not when we have more important matters to concern ourselves with.” He gestured to the writing on the ground. “You are the only creature here who can comprehend Celestial. How do you interpret it?” he inquired of Athkatla. “Or are we so sure that these words have any meaning behind them at all? Could it simply be an exaltation to the goddess the ancients who made this temple once worshipped?”

Athkatla hummed to herself as she gave the hall another once-over, splitting her focus mostly between the mystifying missive before them and the confusing collage of images that was the ground. “Not meaningless,” she said after some thought. “Think message is clue, says how to cross, says where safe to go.”

“You mean, it’s a riddle, and the answer will tell us which of the tiles are safe to walk on?”

Athkatla Bones confirmed Rarity’s presented theory with a nod. “Yes. Figure out riddle, figure out way to cross room safely.”

“Oh boy, riddles. That’s, uh.” Steel groaned and let out a long, deep sigh. “That’s great. So, how did it go again?”

“She who controls, the tides of battle, grants victory over death. Her sanctum belongs, to we who follow her path,” Athkatla repeated slowly and in chunks in order to make it easier for everyone else to follow.

“Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah, I see,” said Steel, his eyes closed as he nodded and rubbed the front of his neck. “Yep, I’ve got nothing.” The minotaur shrugged. “Yeah, can’t say I’m much for puzzles and stuff, so I’ll just let you all figure this one out. You can probably handle it, no problem.“ A few seconds passed in thoughtful silence, then, “So, what’ve got so far?”

“Perhaps if you would give us a little peace and quiet to think, we might have an adequate answer to give you,” Biala snapped through gritted teeth. He released an irritated sigh. “The first part of the riddle, it describes of an individual who controls a battlefield. Perhaps it speaks a great warrior.” He walked over to the edge of the tiled floor and pointed to the picture of a curved sword similar to the one on his side. “And the path of a warrior lies within her weapons.”

“So we just step on all the spots with weapons on them? Easy enough.” Steel Nerved went to step down on the nearest image of a spear, but to everyone else’s surprise, Athkatla smacked his leg away, causing him to stumble back.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for?”

The diamond dog huffed as she brought out her collapsible rod and extended it to its full length. “Test first,” she said and pressed the pole down on the square Steel had been aiming for. The tile dropped a couple of inches with a click, and suddenly the entire space between them and the hall’s other end was filled with pillars of white hot flames. Rarity instinctively jumped back, but even with the extra space she had created, she could still feel the extreme scorching heat of the inferno in front of her.

The flames eventually died down and vanished, leaving the floor and its tiles completely untouched. The same could not be said about Biala Diyn’s now singed and uneven beard or the rod in Athkatla’s paws that had been melted to a mere fraction of its original length. Athkatla dropped what was left of the rod and shot Steel a smug little sideways glance as warped metal clacked against the ground. Steel in turn turned to glare accusingly at Biala.

“It would appear that my answer is not the correct one,” the stallion said calmly despite his still smoking beard. He waved away the smoke and tried to straighten it out.

“Uh, you think? You almost got me barbecued!” Steel exclaimed.

“A fate that obviously would not have been my intention,” Biala said, glaring back at the minotaur. “I have admitted my mistake, that is already more than you would have done.”

“Enough,” Athkatla growled, the low rumble from the back of her throat cutting Steel’s tirade off before it could initiate. “Trying to think here, so bicker somewhere else.”

The two males of the group continued to glare and scowl at each other, but at least they did so quietly. It was certainly easier to think now that there was silence once more, but Rarity still struggled to make sense of the riddle. She couldn’t find anything blatantly wrong with Biala’s logic, but his solution clearly wasn’t what they were looking for. But if the path of warrior wasn’t in her weapons, what was it then? None of the other pictures fit, so maybe the she in the message was not a warrior like Biala had suggested. But then, who or what was being referred to?

In her frustration, Rarity nearly gasped out. If only Twilight was here, she would have come up with the right answer before the rest of them even finished reading. Or Pinkie Pie, with her love for jokes, endless creativity, and her out-of-the-box thinking. Rarity would have even settled for Rainbow Dash on the possibility that the pegasus had experienced something similar in one of those hackneyed adventure books she loved reading so much.

“She who controls, the tides of battle, grants victory over death,” Rarity muttered to herself. Maybe she just had to hear the riddle a few more times to get its meaning to finally sink in. “She who controls, tides of battle, victory over death. She, controls, tides, battle, victory, death. She, controls, tides, battle—“

The front paw of Athkatla Bones suddenly shot up in the air, and the wide-eyed stare she was giving Rarity startled her even more. “Repeat,” she ordered, pointing at Rarity.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just—“

“You! Repeat! Riddle Now!”

Rarity swallowed. “She who controls the tides of battle grants victory over—“

“Slower!”

“She. Who. Controls. The. Tides—“

“She controls tides!” Athkatla ran over to the tiled and scanned the available images. Her face lit up, and out came a happy howl as she found what she was searching for. She gestured wildly until everyone else gathered around her and stared at the crescent moon she was pointing them to.

“The moon?” Steel’s confusion was clearly expressed on his face. “Um, alright, what about it?”

“The moon is what controls the tides of the oceans!” Rarity exclaimed, her eyes growing wide with understanding and voice bubbly with same excitement that Athkatla had shown. It was one of those little facts, the kind school teachers would throw out to garner the interest of their impressionable students but never bothering to elaborate on the how. Who‘d have thought that such knowledge would be so instrumental outside a game of trivia?

“Then you believe the answer to be the moon?” Biala’s doubtful frown was like a splash of cold water. “Are you certain? I will admit, I do not have the knowledge to dispute your calm of the moon’s influence over the waters, but I find it odd that the riddle would mention of battles if it were simply speaking of an ocean’s movement.”

“Is riddle, supposed to be misleading.”

The response from Athkatla didn’t appear alleviate Biala’s skepticism all that much, and with all that was at stake, Rarity was now starting to feel less sure herself. If they were wrong, well, she didn’t think having a lifeline tied around her would do much good against all that fire. “You wouldn’t happen to have another way to test our theory, would you?” she asked Athkatla.

Athkatla rummaged through the many pockets of her jacket before producing, with a long reluctant sigh, one of the silver plates they had recently acquired. She tested its weight in her paw, then after giving the silver one last sad glance, she tossed the plate toward the tiles. Her aim was impeccable, and the silver circle landed dead center on the square with a thud, covering the most of the image of the waxing crescent moon. The group watched with held breaths, but the tile stayed still, and the room remained free of fire. Athkatla threw out another silver plate, this time at a tile with a full moon on it, and it also did not trigger the trap.

Those results were enough to satisfy Athkatla at least, and she quickly set forth to recollect the thrown silver. When Athkatla got to the end alive and completely unburned, she waved the others over. Rarity was next, moving slowly and cautiously to make sure that each step fell on the right tiles, and when she had gotten halfway through the hall, she could hear the taps of Biala and Steel Nerves’ heavier hooves trailing behind her. Every creature eventually made it across, though there was one heart stopping instance where Steel had nearly lost his balance and slipped, and after taking a moment to catch their breath and calm down, they filed into the room that was waiting for them at the end.

What they found inside was a line of seven stone basins the size of standard mixing bowls. Each one sat upon a thin marble pedestal, giving them the slight appearance of a birdbath. Behind those stone bowls was a pair of massive floral lavender curtain that covered the entire back wall while the surrounding side walls were lined with so many stacks of sealed jars and pots made out of dull and tinted crystal. At the base of the basins and their pedestals there was one last message, the gold of its foreign letters and symbols gleaming in light of the torches shining from their respective corners.

Athkatla didn’t wait to be prompted. She immediately strolled up to the message and started to read. “Ahead lies the holy of holies. Only those who have cleansed their hands appropriately may pass.”

“Hands?” Rarity repeated.

Athkatla wiggled her own front paws. “Paws, hooves, claws. Not perfect translation. Just mean end of forelimb.”

“So, is that another riddle or something?” Steel Nerves called over from his side of the room. He had picked up one of the glass containers and was shaking it like a foal would with their Hearth’s Warming gift as a way of figuring out what was hidden inside.

“Put that down before you break it,” commanded Biala, but Rarity noted that his tone was more exasperated than authoritative. The day and all it’s incidents must have left him drained. Rarity was honestly feeling pretty exhausted herself, a state made worse by the discouragement that came from the lack of noticeable progress. All this time and effort and Rarity hadn’t a hint to where the magic she needed to save Spike and Discord could be, if it even existed. She shook those heavy thoughts from her head. No, it had to be here, she just needed to persist.

“Aw, quit your worrying,” Steel Nerves said, rolling his eyes. As if to prove the stallion wrong, he shook the jar even harder. “I’ve got this, no—“

The jar slipped out of his hand and shattered against the floor. Shards of crystal slid across the floor as the contents stored inside were violently released, filling the air around Steel with ash and sending him into a fit of coughs.

Biala shook his head and sighed. He watched Steel try to forcefully expel the ash out of his lungs for a few seconds with an eyebrow cocked before turning to Athkatla and to the words written on the floor. “The second part of the message, it seems to imply that there is more of the temple to see, that there is a way to continue on, but I see no further path to take.” He motioned to the three solid walls around them. “This room is a complete dead end.”

“Maybe there a secret door,” Athkatla proposed. “Or way forward behind big curtains.”

Rarity followed the diamond dog’s gesture toward the drapes. They were of a thick material that was impossible to see through, and they were too tightly drawn to peek past. A passageway being behind all that purple cloth was definitely a possibility, but from her current position, Rarity had no way of telling, and after seeing what the last area had prepared, she was hesitant in approaching the curtains for a closer examination.

Perhaps, just like the last area, the means to proceed was hidden within the provided message. How had it gone again? Only those who have cleansed their hands appropriately may pass, it had said, and as she considered those words, Rarity’s gaze skimmed over the seven bowls of stone and paused. It had just been a fleeting thought at first, just a passing observation, but the more Rarity mulled over the thought and stared at the bowls, the more they reminded her of the one left in her room each morning full of warm water and with fresh washcloths and soap.

Athkatla may have come to the same conclusion as Rarity did as she too walked over to the bowls and checked their interiors. Despite the sweltering desert above and all the dust that had accumulated over the centuries around them, each and every one of them was topped with the clearest water Rarity had ever seen, the type of quality one might find being served at the most posh of Canterlot eateries. The two shared a look.

“Could it be that they want us to—“

“—wash paws,” Athkatla finished.

“Wait, that’s it?” Steel Nerves exclaimed. “We just have to wash our hands first? I mean, mine could use a wash.” He raised his front appendages that were still coated in gray ash. “But I don’t know. That’s seems awfully straightforward, especially after that whole thing about the moon and tides and stuff.”

“It may simply be instructions or a reminder for a particular ritual that must be done prior to entering this holy of holies.” Biala joined Rarity and Athkatla in examining the basins and their contents. “Did either of you see anything peculiar about these bowls?” he asked.

“Besides them having such oddly clean water?” Rarity shook her head. “No, I can’t really say that I did.” She turned to Athkatla. “Did you happen to notice anything?”

The adventuring archeologist didn’t answer right away. Instead, she drew a dagger and stuck its tip into the water, breaking its surface. After swirling it around for a bit, creating little ripples, and lowering it until half of the blade was submerged, Athkatla slowly pulled the dagger out, and once she finished examining it, she passed it on to Biala who then gave it Rarity.

“I don’t get it,” said Steel a few moments into his turn with the weapon. “Why does everyone look so surprised? Nothing seems off to me.”

“It is completely dry.”

Biala’s terse explanation caused Steel’s eyes to go wide. He stared at the blade and gingerly brought his finger along its flat side. “It’s not wet!” he proclaimed. “I mean, like at all. But, but I saw you put it in the water, and, but, how?” He returned the dagger to its owner. “You didn’t, dry it off or anything before giving to me, did you?”

“No. Water just very strange.” Athkatla took out a small sack, and from it she dumped a good amount of colorfully dyed sand into the water. The group huddled around the bowl and watched as the all of sand dissipated to its last grain without any of it reaching the bowl’s bottom. A couple of lead marbles soon followed, and they too eventually vanished from view after a few seconds of sinking.

“Is it, dangerous?” Rarity asked. It seemed pretty obvious that the bowls here were part of the cleansing procedure mention in the message, but as confident as she was in that assessment, Rarity wasn’t fully ready to stick her hooves in this strange mystery water.

Athkatla shrugged. “Knife fine, not damaged. Not acid. Maybe safe.”

“Well, guess there’s only one way to be sure.” Steel clasped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “So the riddle or message or whatever it was, it said we just have to wash up to keep going, right? Easy enough.” He walked over to one of the less crowded bowls and raised his hands over it. He stopped short of lowering them into the bowl, and Rarity saw that he had on an apprehensive look, his grin wavering and eyes darting to the rest of the group as his hands shook. “So, uh, maybe we should, I don’t know, do this together? You know, as a group? I mean, we’ve got all of these here.” Steel waved to the other basins. “No reason to, uh, wait. Might as well get it all done at once, save some time, am I right?”

Everyone else stared back at Steel with varying expressions of amusement, but when it became clear that he was not going to proceed by himself, Athkatla sighed and broke from Rarity and Biala to a free basin. Rarity let out her own sigh. “If this is what it takes,” she muttered as she positioned her hooves over the next bowl of incredibly pristine water.

“Very well then. On my count,” Biala said with his own hooves out and above his own primitive sink. “Three. Two. One. Now!”

Paws, hands, and hooves were dunked into the water at Biala Diyn’s command. The liquid, Rarity noted as she immersed her hooves in it, was at a comfortably cool temperature. She might have even thought it pleasant and refreshing if it weren’t for her anxiety over the possible terrible effects the liquid was having on her. Granted, it didn’t feel any different from your typical tap or spring water. There were no additional textures, no sliminess or stickiness or any feeling of congealment, no sensations of pain or burning. If it had been based on touch alone, Rarity would have suspected nothing abnormal about it.

Of course, any sense of normalcy disappeared when Rarity pulled out her hooves and discovered that they had turned light blue. Yells of shock drew her eyes to the others, and she saw that something similar had happened to Athkatla and Steel Nerves, though theirs were different degrees of red instead of blue. Only the color of Biala’s hooves were unchanged.

“What’s going on here? What is this?” Steel griped as he scratched at his wrists and palms and groaned. “Grr, it’s not coming off.”

Athkatla looked down at her own paws and sniffed. “Not dye,” she said. She then walked to Rarity and lifted up her hoof, and when Athkatla had finished examine it, she went over to Biala and grabbed his foreleg as well.

“How come hers are blue? And why didn’t his change at all?” Steel demanded.

Biala snatched his hoof away, leaving the diamond dog to hum thoughtfully to herself. She turned to the basin Biala had used, the one in the very middle of the line, and stuck her front paws into it. When she had pulled them out, the red color was gone, and they had returned to their original appearance.

“Maybe, different bowls, different colors?” Athkatla said, looking back at Rarity’s blue forelegs.

“Do you suppose that what the message meant about having to be cleansed appropriately?” Rarity asked. “That we need to use the right water?”

Biala stroked his still uneven and disheveled beard. “I see. And using any of the other waters would leave you stained and thus unable to continue forward. So this was indeed a puzzle.”

“Then, all we have to do is use that one, and we’ll be clean. Is that it?” Steel moved past the others and dipped his hands into the bowl they had all gathered around, and like with Athkatla, they were back to normal when he had removed them from the water. “Huh. Pretty easy puzzle. I could’ve figured it out myself.”

“Hm, yes. Easy,” Rarity heard Athkatla mumble as she walked by to rid her own hooves of their blue discoloring.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, noting the uncertainty in Miss Bones’s voice. Athkatla opened her mouth to speak, but after a short second of silence, she shook her head.

“Is nothing. Just overthinking. Hurry and clean hooves.”

Rarity did exactly that, and once she had finished and stepped away from the wash basin, the waiting commenced. The seconds came and went, slowly paving the way to the eventual passing minutes, and still nothing happened. As the end of the fifth minute drew near, Steel tossed his horned head back and groaned.

“Now what?”

“Check curtains,” Athkatla instructed. “Maybe something behind.”

Biala cautiously stepped over the message in gold and crossed the line of raised stone. Seeing that the room had done nothing to dissuade or punish him, he continued to the purple curtains and grabbed the fabric at the point where the two separate parts met. Every creature watched as Biala tugged and pulled, but the curtains refused to separate, as if they were glued directly to the wall. Steel Nerves snorted after letting Biala toil ineffectually for a bit and went to the struggling stallion’s side.

“Move over,” he said, punching his fists into his palms and popping the joints in his knuckles. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He brushed Biala aside and took hold of the drapes. Those massive muscles in his arms swelled and tightened as he roared and tried to wrench apart the curtains. Tried to, but as the seconds passed and his might yell tapered into a weakened moan, his arms glistering with sweat, everyone could see that the curtains failed to budge even an inch.

“Perhaps we should—“ Rarity began, but Steel interrupted her.

“No, I’ve almost got it,” he insisted through a clenched jaw. “Just, sit tight. Almost got it. I just need another—“

”Solnsih!”

One by one, the torches went out, darkening the area. Steel was suddenly thrown back as the sudden choir of voices chimed in unison throughout the room. “Ugh, what was that?” Steel groaned over the reverberations while massaging his sore posterior.

“Something wrong. Had feeling, too—“ Athkatla gasped and pointed. “Look!”

The rest of them turned and watched as ash trickled up out of the crystal containers and slowly formed into full sized silhouettes of equines. Their dark faceless heads jerked towards the intruders, and one raised a shadowy hoof and pointed it at them. The whole room seemed shake as splits began to formed in the side walls and floor. From the newly created fissures and cracks crawled out nearly a dozen equine bodies all stripped of their fur, skin, and flesh and armed with rusty swords, daggers, and spears. A low hiss came from the skeletal guard as the first wave began their advance, their weapons out and directed at Rarity and her companions.

Biala Diyn brandished his own blade and stepped forward. “Solving this puzzle will have to wait. We must deal with this threat first.”

“Heh. Fine by me.” Steel readied his club, gripping the great bludgeon in both hands. “I was getting sick of all that thinking anyways.”

A sharp snap caused Rarity to fumble her own weapon, and she nearly dropped it in surprise as Athkatla unfurled her whip and cracked it against the ground. The diamond dog regarded the approaching skeletons with a grim, calculative look up, and a low, feral growl rumbled out of her mouth as she bared her teeth. Rarity quickly fixed her grasp on her dagger, keeping the obsidian tip steady as the first of the skeletons lunged forward.

Biala met his adversary first, knocking aside the thrusted spearhead with his curved blade before stepping up and swinging it down the exposed sternum. It wasn’t a clean cut, and the bone gave a respectable resistance, but the strike staggered the osseous opposition, leaving the construct open to Athkatla’s whip. Her lash of leather wrapped around a hind leg, and with a might pull, she tore the limb off and away. The lopsided skeleton stumbled back before collapsing, but there was no time to relish in the victory as already the fallen foe’s comrades were stepping over the heap of unmoving bones, the yellow glint in their sockets fixated upon those still among the living.

Battle bellows resounded from the other side of the room as Steel swung his club with abandon. Left and right the massive stick went, sending any skeleton in its path soaring into the air and scattering them into pieces across the floor. The minotaur finally paused to raise the club over his head before bringing it down with a great yell. The blow pulverized its intended target and showered its surrounding allies with shards and bits of broken bone. He let out a sneering laugh as he immediately pulled the club up into an uppercut strike that smacked the skull of the next skeleton clean off, shattering it against the wall.

“Ha ha! Hey, you like that, you bony freaks? Come on, I’ve got plenty for all of, whoa!”

The headless enemy pounced and grabbed onto Steel’s arm, forcing him to lower his weapon. His smirk turned into an enraged snarl as he tried to peel off the undead nuisance with his free hand. “Get off me, you lousy—“

Steel Nerves’s eyes widened with panic as he watched the next skeleton in line drive the bottom half of a longsword into his face. Frantically, he held up a hand in a desperate, futile attempt to block the attack, but it did not matter. Rarity reached her mark first, and she jammed Elder Woods’s dagger into the empty socket of Steel’s assailant. The silver runes running down the black blade seemed to shine as Rarity pushed on, plunging the dagger down until it was hilt deep into the skull. Then, as the light glaring out of the socket flickered and died, with the mightiest shout she could muster, Rarity ripped the blade free. The skull started to crumble apart, and she shoved the rest of the bony body away.

“Nice one!” Steel cheered. He lifted his arm and slammed it against the floor, turning the skeleton grappled to it into a broken mess and freeing him to go back to swinging away wildly. The battle raged on as skeletons continued to fall to blade, whip, and club, but for every one they had slain, another seemed to take its place. Their strikes grew sluggish as they tired, becoming easier to avoid or withstand. So far the worst any of them had suffered were a few shallow cuts and small bruises, mostly on Steel, though everyone had gotten their share of licks, including Rarity who took a passing glance from a dulled lance and now sported an ugly red mark on her left shoulder, but that number of minor injuries was gradually growing, and it was only a matter of time before something more severe would be inflicted.

Morale surged when it appeared as though the endless waves of enemy combatants were finally starting to run dry, but just as they started to catch their breath, the silhouettes that first appeared stirred and raised their black hooves. Right in front of their horror filled eyes, the defeated bones began to reassemble and stand, the fractures mended and cracks sealed by ash flowing out of the shadowy figures.

“Focus on the specters in the back!” Biala shouted, but already a wall of skeletons had formed in their way. While Steel charged head first in an attempt to carve open a path, vines suddenly sprouted from the cracks in the ground, and at Biala’s direction they reached for the shadows. The ash dispersed as the shining vines swept through the bodies, like a tail swatting away flies, and after finding nothing to cling to, the vines swiftly vanished.

A flask crashed into the wall and exploded, raining glass and colorful embers down upon the shadows. One ashy swarm ignited, and its equine shape was lost as it writhed and shook until those orange and green flames went out, taking with them a good chunk of the figure’s mass. More flasks of fire followed from Athkatla while Rarity, Biala, and Steel did their best to fend off the hordes. Progress was visible as one of the shadows continued to shrink until its form could no long be maintained, but it had just been one to many still remaining, and the relentless skeletal onslaught showed little sign of slowing.

Rarity’s weapon slipped out of her grasp and she let out a cry as a rust encrusted blade found its way into her foreleg and left a huge gash right above her knee. She stumbled back, trying to make some distance between herself and her attacker, and as the skeleton went for another swing, Biala pulled her out of the sword’s path.

“Stay behind me,” he instructed before moving up to engage his new opponent. Rarity tried to take a step after him but winced from the pain in her leg. She still had the other dagger that she had bought from the Cowdim-La market, but with her wound Rarity wasn’t sure how much good she’d be as a fighter. She looked to Athkatla to see if she could assist her in any way or capacity when her gaze stopped at the line of stone bowls. Failing the puzzle was what got them all in this mess. Maybe, if she could determine where they went wrong and figure out how to go about this correctly, the assault would end.

Rarity quickly reviewed the facts. Seven bowls, seven waters. The one she used had turned her hooves blue while those that Steel and Athkatla dipped in resulted in reds. The center bowl, the one Biala had chosen, only seemed to remove any colorings caused by the other basins, but washing in that one hadn’t worked. Then, were they supposed to discolor their appendages? Is that the message really meant about being cleansed appropriately, that they had to be the appropriate color? Rarity ran over to the bowl on the right end and threw her hooves inside. They were a dark blue when she withdrew them, much darker than the color her hoof had been earlier, but was this the right color? She searched the room, hoping to find a hint of sorts somewhere, but the chaos of battle made it impossible for her to scan the walls for markings or pictures. All she had to work with were the bowls that seemed to turn her red or blue and the purple curtains that refused to open.

Wait. Purple, curtains?

Rarity looked down at her hooves then glanced back up to the curtains attached to the wall ahead. She hurried to the opposite end of the row, ignoring her wound as inspiration spurred her on, and practically dove into the basin furthest on the left. She took out her hooves, and lo and behold, they were no longer blue but instead a deep dark violet. Rarity looked back to the drapes, her jaw dropping as she shook in her excitement.

“I think I’ve solved it! I know what to do,” she declared with a bit of pride and a whole lot of relief.

“That’s, ngh, great,” Steel managed to say as he struggled to push back his current attacker. “Real happy for you here.”

“Be quick about it then,” Biala snapped, being far more direct with his impatience. “We cannot hold them off for much longer.”

Rarity gave a short nod that she wasn’t sure Biala or anyone else would notice before returning to wall covered in lavender. The purple currently on her hooves was too dark, and she hastily washed it off in the center basin. She tried again with a different red and a different blue. Iris this time, still too dark. Next was lilac, then fuchsia blue. Again and again Rarity wetted her hooves, adding and mixing shades of red and then blue then red again until slowly the color slowly started to match that of the curtains.

“Out of fire!” Athkatla suddenly shouted, going back to her whip. Another two of the ash equines had been vanquished, but the figures alone still outnumbered them, never mind the bony guardians they kept bringing back. She allowed herself a short glance at Rarity, and in that short second, Athkatla noticed the color of Rarity’s hooves, compared them to the veil in the back, and made the connection as her eyes doubled in size. “Hurry!”

The cue had been unnecessary as Rarity was already racing as fast as her injury would allow toward the back of the room, her teeth clenched hard as she ignored the pain in her leg and reached out for the curtains. Lavender hooves caught hold of lavender cloth, and after seeing both Biala and Steel struggle so profusely, she expect to meet some resistance. Instead, Rarity almost tripped and fell forward onto her face due to all the excessive force she put into flinging the drapery out of her way, and she braced for impact with the wall ahead of her. That crash never came, and when Rarity opened her eyes, she discovered to her surprise that she had staggered into a completely new room.

This new area was a fairly modest one in size, only about maybe a fourth of the room with the bowls, but it was unquestionably the most extravagant part of the temple Rarity had visited as of yet. The walls, the ceiling above, even the floor at Rarity’s feet were of a sleek black material, tourmaline if Rarity had to guess based on the mineral’s luster, and embedded inside the dark, shiny surfaces were stars of sparkling platinum. Within the wall straight across from Rarity, amidst all the silver specks, was a pair of giant eyes made out of the same precious metal as the surrounding stars. The eyes stared back at Rarity, glaring down as it looked over a throne of gold and a rainbow of gems that was in the room’s center.

The throne was not empty. Seated in that decorative chair was the emaciated form of a mare. Golden shackles strapped to the mare’s ankles, shoulders, and neck held her up in place, but being forced in such an upright position had caused the bandages around her limbs to loosen over time, revealing the shriveled, hairless skin underneath. She wore a set of clean silk robes over her body that were same color as the curtains Rarity had passed through and were currently fluttering on the wall behind her. Like the mummies they had seen earlier, the lifeless equine wore an incredibly lifelike mask over her face though hers was made of that rare platinum instead of gold.

The scene was as regal as it was macabre, and despite the atmosphere of calm quietness the room seemed to produce, like looking up into the night sky on a cool summer evening, the body in the center left Rarity with a feeling of unease and uncertainty. She was alone with the corpse with her companions nowhere in sight, and she couldn’t hear the sounds of combat anymore. Should she wait to see if Biala, Steel, and Athkatla could find their way to her, or would it be a better idea for Rarity to try and return to the group? Before she could finishing deliberating, a powerful voice rang out.

“Don fawh msiht yresol?”

The voice was that of a mare’s, matriarchal and authoritative without sounding aged. It was also demanding an answer that Rarity, not being able to comprehend the question, did not know how to give. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, looking around for the source of the disembodied voice. “I don’t understand you.”

Rarity received a loud sigh in response, and she had to shield her eyes as the throne and the mare upon it suddenly began to glow with an overwhelming brightness. The light soon abated, and when Rarity put down her hooves, she found the somewhat translucent form of a alicorn mare towering over her. Her dark blue wings were extended to the fullness of their span, their tips almost brushing the walls, and that spiraling horn coming out of her head was a good four to five times the length of a typical unicorn’s. Beneath what could best be described as a cross between a sovereign’s crown and a warrior’s open-faced helmet, the alicorn’s mane, a moderate sapphire outlined by bluish gray, appeared to wave and flow by some undetectable breeze as the motes of light inside it sparkled.

Polished plate armor covered her chest, back, and barrel, and the eyes of cyan looking down on Rarity shared the same structure as the set on the wall. The rest of the alicorn’s stern face, which had not even a single line or wrinkle or any other signs of aging despite the several lifetimes of wisdom in her eyes, was identical to the mask the mummy on the throne was wearing, but as she stared up in awe, Rarity slowly realized that the mask wasn’t the only place she recognized those features from.

“Princess Luna?”

“I am Selune. There are those who call me the Moonmaiden, to others I am Their Lady of Silver,” the figure spoke. The words in their original, foreign tongue could be heard like an echo under the translated version that Rarity could actually follow. “It has been some centuries since any creature had attempted communing with me through this channel. Tell me, mortal mare, who are you and what brings you to this temple, to the final resting place of my dear granddaughter and servant Valmeyjar?”

Rarity swallowed. “M-my name is R-er, Shmarity. Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia. My friends are in trouble, and I was told that there may be magic in this temple that can save them. I’m looking for a spell that can bring the dead back to life. Please, can you help me?”

“So you, like so many others before you, wish to conquer death.” The alicorn sighed and shook her head. “I see that despite the passage of time, the desires of mortals have not changed.”

“Then, does such a spell exists here?”

“Perhaps. Whether you are worthy of such a boon however, well, let us see.” The projection swooped down to Rarity’s eye level, causing her to flinch. The alicorn clasped her cold hooves over Rarity’s cheek and held her still as she forced their eyes to meet. It was like looking into a dark bottomless pool, and when Rarity was finally released, she had to shake her head a couple times to allay her lightheadedness.

“W-what was, what did you do?”

“Just one last test to determine your motivations,” the alicorn answered as she stood back up to her full height. “And though you are not one of mine, I have deemed your intentions to be pure and will provide what assistance I can. You said you seek a way to revive the dead, did you not?”

“Yes. Yes! There are two of them, and they’ve been, ahem, deceased for about a month now,” said Rarity, both body and voice trembling slightly out of her growing elation.

“And the cause of death was not old age, was it?”

“Oh no, most definitely not. Their lives were stolen by a cruel, horrible villain known as the Squid Wizard.”

“Ah. Then yes, I do have something here that should be able to help you.” The alicorn’s horn lit up as did a section of the floor. The ground quaked as the glowing tourmaline split apart, and out of the opening rose a moderately sized chest that was perhaps a little larger than the typical travel suitcase. The box set itself down in front of Rarity, and the hasp keeping the lid closed was undone. Rarity hesitated for a moment, but once she had received a permitting nod from the Moonmaiden, she tossed the lid up and reached into the opened chest.

All she found inside were three scrolls tied shut by ribbons of red upon which there was a line of that Celestial writing in gold font. “The magic contained within just one of these scrolls will be sufficient to save your two friends, as long as their souls are willing and you have at least a piece of their remains nearby,” the alicorn explained. “Valmeyjar herself had these prepared long ago.”

Rarity picked up one of the scrolls. “And, I can just take this with me?”

“You may take them all if you so wish,” Selune said with a small smile and a nod. “It was never my desire for Valmeyjar to keep these spells from the rest of the world, and now that she and hers are gone from this world, I have no one else to share my gifts with. Perhaps, if the world relearns of the power I possess, my influence over this world will be restored, and I shall be Their Silver Lady once more.” The Luna-lookalike gestured to the scrolls. “To that end, I bestow onto you the miracle you so need, and all I ask in return is that you let others know of its source.“

Well, that was all the convincing Rarity needed. She bent her knee and dropped into a low bow, her forehead less than an inch off the ground. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Miss, er, Your Holiness, ma’am, for everything. I assure you, as Celestia is my witness, when I am done, there won’t be a single creature that hasn’t heard of Selune the Moonmaiden!”

There was no reply. When Rarity lifted her head, the projection of the great alicorn was gone. Both the chest and the hole in the floor had disappeared as well, but the three magic scrolls remained before Rarity’s feet. She carefully packed them away in her saddlebags, and once she was finally confident that they were secure, she headed back through the lavender curtains where she hoped to find her allies still alive and well. Rarity didn’t want to have to test her new found spell without having von Zarovich and the school of necromancy take a look at it first.

38. The Seer

The Seer

An anguished wail filled the air as Alharir openly wept. She flung herself over Aibnatu and pulled her into a tight embrace, much to the embarrassment of Aibnatu and all those around them, including a number of curious onlookers that had wandered near the gathered crowd.

“Mother, please. You promised you would not cause a scene,” the young mare moaned, but the protest only drove Alharir to strengthen her constrictive hold, and despite Aibnatu’s pleading look, no one, not Biala Diyn nor Steel Nerves nor Rarity, dared move to intervene. In the end, it was Tariq who finally managed to separate his wife from their daughter.

“It is time to go,” he said with a solemn sigh as he all but carried the sobbing mare back to their wagon. “I know, love, I know, but it is getting late, and we must be off. Do not worry, I am sure another opportunity will arise, and we will visit again soon enough.”

Aibnatu shook her head as she also let out a sigh. “Please keep them safe,” she said to Biala and Steel.

Biala placed a hoof over his chest and bowed his head. “On my honor, no harm shall befall upon them.”

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s what we were paid to do,” said Steel, his chest proudly puffed out and his head held high before turning to Rarity. “So, uh, guess this is it then. You sure you‘re not gonna tag along?”

Rarity gave the minotaur a sad little smile. “I’m afraid there are still a couple of things I have to take of before I can leave the schools.”

Her thoughts turned to three days prior, to the moment she had crossed the lavender veil and returned to previous area with the basins and the glass urns and the garrison of skeletons. Only two of the three aforementioned still remained when Rarity got back as according to the rest of the party, the moment she had disappeared behind the curtains, the ground suddenly opened up and swallowed the entire skeletal company before closing while the ash that made up the remaining shadows immediately returned to their containers. Once Rarity finished convincing every creature that she was alright and had retrieved her dropped dagger, they resumed their short rest, taking the time to gather their energy, address their wounds, and discuss what Rarity saw on the other side.

The group’s skepticism was to be expected, Rarity had no delusions to how ridiculous her supposed encounter with some massive ghostly alicorn sounded, but Rarity was surprised to see that what support she did receive came not from the pious Biala but from Miss Athkatla Bones. As it so happened, the diamond dog had heard of this Moonmaiden, a deity from a long forgotten pantheon, a goddess of the moon, of life and knowledge, and though her knowledge on Selune was limited, just confirming her past existence lent Rarity’s claim credence. If that wasn’t enough, the sudden lack of the critical wound Rarity had sustained on her leg earlier certainly gave the others pause. There wasn’t even a leftover mark or scar, and the previous pain had already faded from her memory.

They left the temple soon after catching their breath, which suited Rarity just fine now that she had gotten exactly what she came here to retrieve. The whole possibility of an actual, potentially wrathful deity dwelling within these walls on top of their clash with those endless skeletons and their ash directors tempered the group’s collective curiosity and avarice, and they left the remaining locked tombs alone. It, however, didn’t stop Athkatla and Steel from raiding the pile of loot that had already been gathered, and when they had finally stepped out of the temple and gulped down their first breath of fresh air in several hours, the pockets of Rarity’s saddlebags were bulging with silver.

They had arrived at the schools’s entrance tower and returned to town some time in the late afternoon, their expedition having taken much of the day. A liaison from the school of necromancy was there to greet them at the main campus building and to let them know that Dean von Zarovich would not be available until the next day. Any reports would have to wait until morning, so after a celebratory meal of flaky pastries and several rounds of fizzy fruit drinks, the party went their separate ways. That following morning, Rarity alone returned to the cathedral in the center of town where she met up with Elkraps Thigliwt. Before going to bed the previous evening, Rarity had let the dean of the school of evocation know of her success through her borrowed sending stone, and as the two mares made their way up to von Zarovich’s office, Rarity did her best to describe her little adventure and answer as many of Elkraps’s questions as she could in a manner that didn’t quite violate her agreement of secrecy. As far as the evoker was aware, exploring the temple of Valmeyjar for von Zarovich was what the necromancer had demanded in return for his services, and not surprisingly, the lack of details left Elkraps largely unsatisfied.

Sergei von Zarovich had not been the only being waiting in his office for Rarity. Two additional ponies in similarly dark robes, a gaunt stallion with the largest rings over his eyes that Rarity had ever seen and an older unicorn mare whose long mane stripped with sections of snow white between ash grays was braided into her matching beard, flanked von Zarovich’s desk.

“Professor Hollows,” von Zarovich had introduced, motioning to the exhausted-looking stallion before moving to the unicorn. “Madam Enyaba. They are, shall we say, experts in this regard.” He waited for everyone to finish exchanging salutations and nods then cleared his throat and turned to Elkraps. “Dean Thigliwt, if you wouldn’t mind giving us some privacy. This is, after all, strictly necromancy business.”

Elkraps’s lips pursed together into a scowl, but she nodded and had left the room after giving Rarity a look of encouragement, her appearance softening to allow a small smile. The door closed with a click, and the three remaining mages turned their attention back to Rarity. “So, Princess Shmarity.” The bald stallion tapped his hooves together, but Rarity could see that they were trembling with an impatient eagerness. “What did you find?”

Rarity told her tale, this time without any limitations or censoring. Her audience looked mostly disinterested until near the end when she got to her meeting with Selune. That tidbit caused a visible stir among the trio of necromancers, and the thin stallion on von Zarovich’s right would have interjected had his dean not quieted him. Rarity then opened her saddlebags and carefully laid the three scrolls Selune had granted her on the desk in front of them. She watched their eyes grow wide and hungry as their hooves slowly crept toward the rolls of parchment until at last von Zarovich picked one up.

“Can you, give us a moment please?” he asked, his gaze glued to the scroll and mustache twitching with each nervous swallow. “We, need to perform a few identification tests and, standard procedures, make some records. Shouldn’t take us too long, you can just wait outside. We’ll let you back when we’re finished.”

She stepped out as requested and waited with Elkraps until after some several minutes, the unicorn had to attend to her own obligation and left Rarity to survive the rest of the uneventful, hoof twiddling half hour by herself. Eventually, the door reopened for her, and she was invited back inside. The stallion behind the desk gently tapped the now unraveled scroll, and sighed as he looked up to Rarity.

“This, is an incredible find. It certainly is the most powerful necromancy spell I’ve ever been privy to,” said von Zarovich while his assistants nodded in agreement.

“To be able to return a multitude of souls back their ruined bodies and restore them to the fullness of life even after a hundred years of decay,” Enyaka had muttered before breaking into a soft crackle. “We should not be so surprised to learn that divine magic is involved.”

“And in only a matter mere seconds,” added Hollows with a scowl upon his face. “Bah. It’s too good of a spell to be real, and to think we’ll be giving one away like this.”

Rarity ignored the last comment. “So then, this is what I’ve been looking for, isn’t it? I can use this spell to save my friends.”

“Well, yes, about that,” von Zarovich had started to say, and Rarity saw that he had a less than encouraging grimace on his face. “Theoretically, it should revive your friends without issue, though you are going to need at least a piece of each of their corpses and their spirit must be willing and available, but there is another, complication. Now we agreed that you would be provided with one of these spell scrolls, and rest assured that I fully intent to honor our arrangement, but you should know that they aren’t quite finished yet.”

“The magic may have worn off over time, or the scribe may have simply left the spell incomplete for some reason,” the stallion named Hollows had interjected before Rarity could recover and demand an explanation. “Whatever the cause, the spells are now missing a very key component, and without it these scrolls are little more than old parchment. Still immensely valuable for study, much less so for any practical use.”

Rarity’s heart had sunk like a stone. “Is it possible to complete the spell?” she asked.

“If we had the missing material, then yes, most likely,” von Zarovich answered, and the others nodded. “We may not be versed in divine magic, but given that everything else is already in place, it should only take us a little time. The only issue we’d have would be acquiring the necessary component, which could take, I’d say, a few months or so.”

“A few months?” Rarity repeated, her growing despair apparent in her voice.

“At least. The school of necromancy only has so many diamonds, all of which have already been allocated for other projects, and getting more at this time will be challenging. The budget for the school has already been set for this quarter, and the deficit resulting from such a large and sudden purchase would no doubt draw unwanted attention.”

“Wait, did you say—“ Rarity quickly rummaged through the pockets of her cloak until she found the sack Sir Gustford had given her the morning of her departure. She nearly ripped the cloth bag apart in her haste and let its contents tumble out. “Will this be enough?” she had asked, pointing to the mound of bright, shiny diamonds that now occupied a portion of the table’s surface.

The three mages, once they had gotten over their shock, took a few minutes to pick out the largest of the stones and check them for imperfections. “Yes, this should suffice,” von Zarovich said when they finished their examination, and at his direction, the ponies at his left and his right gathered the diamonds and the scrolls and carefully stored them in a chest. “The completion process will take us about a week at most. We will meet again then, but for now, if you would excuse us, there is much we need to get done.”

Almost two days had passed since that meeting, and in the days that followed since she was ushered out of von Zarovich’s office, Rarity once again struggled to keep herself occupied. Any activities she attempted just blurred together into a dull mess as her impatience that was worsened by how close she was to achieving her end goal made it difficult to concentrate on anything else, and before she knew it, Biala came to inform her that it was time for them to go.

“Well, alright then,” Steel Nerves said, pulling Rarity back to the present. “Hope you finish whatever it is you’re trying to do soon, and, uh, good luck making your way back home. It’s been fun.”

Steel stepped to the side to allow Tariq and Alharir, now she had regained some of her composure, to say their goodbyes and some words of thanks. Then came a line of the mares and fillies Rarity had helped liberate, and finally, at the very end, it was Biala Diyn’s turn. The stallion laid a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, and with the other he held up his holy symbol.

“May you find still waters and peaceful pastures in all your travels. May your steps always land upon solid ground, and may good fortune and health forever be your companions, until it is your time to return to the Green.” Biala opened his eyes at the prayer’s end. “I wish you the best of luck, Madam Rarity. Fare you well.”

“Thank you, Sir Biala. Farewell.”

The crowd walked off towards the edge of town, and slowly it shrunk until her old traveling companions disappeared from Rarity’s view. There was a hefty sigh and a sniff from the mare next to her, and after a short acknowledgement, Rarity and Aibnatu parted, their paths splitting as Aibnatu went back to the main building and Rarity headed towards the Hag’s Haven. The sun neared the horizon, painting a small section of the darkening sky deep red, and as Rarity continued down the street, her heart grew heavy. She was alone again. As of this hour, her fellow travelers were her fellows no longer, and though they hadn’t interacted all that much since their arrival at the schools, at least Rarity knew that they were all somewhere in town.

She shook her head and took in a deep breath. The actualization of the group’s departure without her meant that Rarity now needed a new way to journey safely through the desert, though that was comparatively simple concern when considering that she also had to figure out how to get back to Spiketopia. Coming up with a means of returning to Spiketopia, thinking of a plan to retrieve Spike and Discord’s bodies from the Squid Wizard and possibly to topple the villain themself, oh, and she still needed to follow up on the Queen of Fey’s clue and restore her horn and magic. Even with a way to save her friends secured and her primary purpose for coming here on the verge of being fulfilled, Rarity still had much to get done, and dwelling on her new loneliness was only going to prolong her streak of unproductiveness.

Rarity stopped to take a seat on a roadside bench, and from her bag she got out that little red stone with a face. Good evening, Dean Thigliwt,[i/] she silently spoke as she held the stone to her forehead and felt its buzz. Sorry for the disturbance, but I require your assistance with some matters. Can we meet at your earliest convenience? Thank you.

A couple of seconds passed without a response, then, Understood. I’ll have to check schedule. Will contact you once I know my next availability. If it’s urgent, let me know first thing tomorrow morning.

Soon after, the stone ceased its humming, and Rarity put it away. There really wasn’t a whole lot else she could accomplish in the few remaining hours of the day, but it was at least a start, and that was admittedly more than she had gotten done in the past few days. Tomorrow Rarity would need to focus on her investigation into where her horn might be, but for now, as her empty stomach was not so gently pointing out to her, it was time for supper. She continued on to the inn, and pretty soon she arrived at the establishment’s entrance. The pudgy raven perched on the sign cawed out a greeting as Rarity pushed open the door and stepped through.

As always, the lobby was littered with cats strutting around like they owned the place. Who Rarity assumed to be the true owner of the inn, if only because she appeared to be the only sapient being working here, was at her desk, busy chatting away with a mare in a red hood. The receptionist cut her laughter short as she noticed Rarity approach her desk.

“Ah, welcome back, dearie,” she said in that odd juvenescent tone that didn’t match her grandmotherly way of speech. “Heading off to dinner, eh? Well, be sure to save some room for dessert. You’re in for quite the treat tonight. Made that apple cobbler myself.”

The mare in red tossed her head back and snorted, and in doing so, her hood fell back. Like the receptionist, there were wrinkles on the mare’s face and the gray in her mane, but the way she carried herself and the youthful life in those bright hazel eyes made Rarity secretly wonder just how many seasons the older mare had truly seen. Those girlish pigtails her mane was styled in only furthered Rarity’s bemusement as they swayed with the mare’s cackle.

“You seeing something funny, Sister?” asked the receptionist with a raised brow.

“Please. I don’t need to consult the cards to know what state your latrines will be in by tonight’s end.” The mare let out another loud snicker as she stepped out of the path of the receptionist’s swung pipe.

“Oh, are the two of you siblings then?”

The receptionist sighed and smiled. “In a sense, yes,” she said, answering Rarity’s question. “We were part of the same coven when we were younger. Ah, those were some wonderful times.” It took her a moment to shake off the look of nostalgia. “Ah, ahem. Well, don’t mind us, dearie, you go and enjoy that dinner and have a good night.”

“Thank you, and you as well.” Rarity turned towards the hall leading to the dining room only to find her path blocked by the mare with the pigtails. The mare’s mouth was opened slightly as she stared at Rarity with a questioning look. “Oh, er, excuse me,” Rarity said, and she tried to move to the side and walk around, but the mare immediately shifted herself back in front of Rarity.

Rarity held back her irritation and forced herself to smile politely. “I’m sorry, was there something you needed from me?” she asked, making sure to keep her tongue in check.

“Hm?” The mare blinked, and her inquisitive expression turned instead to surprise. “Oh, no, it’s just, well.” She leaned forward, causing Rarity to take a step back. “You, child, have quite the interesting fate. Oh yes, a most interesting fate indeed. It shines so brightly, it would be blinding if it weren’t for the mist in the way.”

The smile on Rarity’s face faltered as she continued to back away from the strange mare. She looked to the receptionist for assistance, but the mare at the desk simply watched with a thoughtful, curious frown. “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely sure I understand what you’re saying. Now, if you wouldn’t mind letting me pass, I’ll just be on my—“

“You’re, looking someone, aren’t you? No, not someone, something. Something lost, something magical.” The older mare’s eyes shut for about a moment before suddenly shooting open. “A horn perhaps, yes?”

Rarity froze. “How did you—“

The mare gestured her to the coffee table, and after clearing the couch of cats, she took a seat and laid down a deck of ornate cards. “You are lost, my child,” she said as she shuffled the deck. “Confused, unsure. There is a cloud hanging over your fate. I can banish that cloud and help you find what you are searching for.“ She smiled and stopped her shuffling. “Provided, of course, that I receive proper compensation.”

“You’re a fortune teller.”

The grin became a sneer. “Oh child, no. I do not tell fortunes, I read fates. Now, would you like me to show you how yours will read?”

Rarity’s suspicion clashed with her intrigue. The mare’s mention of her lost horn surely couldn’t have simply been a lucky guess, could it? She walked over to the opposite side of the table and stood directly across from the mare in red. “How much?” she asked.

“Today I’m in a good mood, so I’ll be generous. That silver plate you’re carrying, the one with the Moonmaiden’s symbol, will do nicely,” said the mare, pointing a hoof toward the inner folds of Rarity’s robes. That confirmed it, the older mare in front of Rarity was clearly far more than what her odd but unassuming appearance suggested. Still, Rarity needed several long seconds to considered the proposal before she ultimately gave in and took out her souvenir from Valmeyjar’s temple. It was the last one she had after reluctantly selling the rest of her share of the artifacts to supplement her rapidly dwindling funds, each one worth enough to pay for several additional days at the Hag’s Haven, and after giving the plate one final look, she placed it down on the table.

The mare clapped her hooves together. “Wonderful. Then let us begin,” she said, and she took out a pouch and from it poured sticks of incense and stalks of a bluish grass onto the plate. Then, with a spark produced by the flick of her hoof, she lit the grass and the incense and tossed a small, decorated wood effigy of a pony into the flame where it was swiftly consumed. The rest of the lobby disappeared as sweet scented smoke surround Rarity, the seer, and the table. “Oh fates, you who pave our paths,” the mare muttered, but despite the whispered tone the words were as clear to Rarity as they would have had they been shouted. “Grant me sight. Show me what this poor soul must do to find what is lost to her.”

The sound of rustling drew Rarity’s eyes to the coffee table, and she saw that the deck was quivering untouched. The mare in red grabbed the shaking cards, and with a sweeping motion she laid out all of the cards in a cross. Now of the twenty or so cards spread over the table, only five still continued to move. The mare flipped those five over to expose their faces underneath, revealing the images of a regal mare sitting in a throne with a scepter in her grasp, an elder stallion in red stately robes and a matching form-fitting skullcap holding a book, a dark, imposing tower not unlike the one Rarity had first found herself in, a stallion hung upside down by the ankles of his hind legs, and finally a crescent moon in a starless night sky looking down upon a barren land.

The mare studied the upright cards intensely, her braided pigtails swinging about as she stared down at them while Rarity reminded herself to breathe. At last, after a time, the fate reader leaned back and let out a long exhale. She pointed first to the mare on the throne. “Your search is coming to a rapid end, child. You will very soon have what you are looking for, and it will thanks to someone you are already somewhat familiar with,” she added, pointing to the card with the hierophant before moving on to the tower. “It will not, however, go without its share of adversity. Be prepared to lose something of value.” She then tapped on the last two cards, the hanging stallion and the moon. “An important revelation shall be made, and with it comes distress.”

The smoke faded away, returning them to the cat infested room as the last of the flame died, leaving nothing in the plate. “Is that, it?” Rarity asked, nearly demanded as her frustration and disappointment swelled and threatened to overcome her manners.

“Hold on now, child. The fates still have two more pieces of information you may find useful,” said the mare as she began to clean up the cards. “You are planning to go to the main campus’s library tomorrow. Do so, but do not step foot into the library itself. And finally, I have for you the name of your quarry. You seek the Horn of Halaster.“

“The Horn of Halaster?”

“That’s right. Can’t say I know much about whatever that is, but maybe your future acquaintance will know more.” The mare slowly stood up, stretched, and waved away what smoke still lingered in the air. Then, turning to Rarity, she flashed an unnervingly knowing grin, as though the mare was aware of more than she let on. “Well, wasn’t that fun? It’s been a time and a half since I last had the chance to do that, so thank you. Oh, and best of luck, child.”

The mare suddenly jerked forward, causing Rarity to flinch, and patted Rarity’s check not so gently, then with a final nod toward the receptionist, she flipped her hood back over her head and head up the stairway leading to the rooms.

“Quite the eccentric mare, ain’t she?” the receptionist said with a chuckle and a shake of her head. “Ah well, whatever she told you, I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head too much about it. I’ve seen too many fools who spend all their time trying to figure out the future, their heads all up high and looking out toward the distance when they should be focusing on the ground, making sure they ain’t about to step in something nasty. No sense in fretting about what’s to come. Now there might have been some good advice in my sister’s little show, but don’t forget, you’ve got to live in the present.”

“Er, right. Um, excuse me.”

Rarity hurried down to the dining area, calming only once she had taken a seat and had a couple glasses of water. When her order eventually arrived at her table, she barely tasted the herb and cheese encrusted pumpkin pasta as she mulled over and digested the augur’s prognostication. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved to hear that this fruitless search for her horn was close to ending or to agonize on what this supposed distressful discovery she would soon be facing could possibly be. Any hopes of having a easier time after completing the impossible task of bringing life back to the dead, or at the very least finding a way to do so, had been thoroughly dashed at the promise of future ordeals, though Rarity had to conceded that such expectations were overly optimistic in the first place. And the acquaintance that was mentioned, the helper who she was already familiar with, Rarity wondered of their identity.

Could it be Elkraps? Would the unicorn find the time to talk sooner than expected? Or what about Sergei von Zarovich? Rarity could definitely imagine how his assistance could lead to some negative epiphany. Alharir, Tariq, Biala, and Steel were all gone, so unless something were to bring them back, it couldn’t possibly be any of them, but what about Alharir and Tariq’s daughter? Aibnatu was a student here, maybe she had heard of this Horn of Halaster.

And that just one more thing to puzzle over. This Halaster was a mystery to Rarity, and she could not find any mention of them in Princess Shmarity’s memories. Were they a place, an event, a being, a monster, and how did it end up becoming associated to her horn? More questions and no definite answers, but at least now Rarity had a name to ask around or look into, and that may have been worth the silver plate.

Speaking of plates, hers was now empty, and lacking the appetite for dessert, bowel wrecking or otherwise, Rarity decided to head back to her room and call it a day. As always, Mister Whispers was at the top of the stairs waiting for her, and as the tom rubbed himself against her legs, purring loudly, Rarity felt her mood improve slightly. She got to her room, completed her nightly rituals, and settled into bed where she spent the next couple of hours staring up at the ceiling. Those questions that were such a distraction all throughout dinner continued to plague her, but slowly, as the night wore on, Rarity’s thoughts quieted and eventually allowed her to finally find sleep.

39. Prison Pitfalls

Prison Pitfalls

The morning that followed began disappointingly, with Elkraps’s stone keeping silent. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, the mare did have her own responsibilities after all and couldn’t be expected to drop everything for Rarity’s sake, but the lack of an update still soured her morning. Having little else to do, Rarity headed off to the main campus building. Of the library’s numerous shelves, one had to have something on this Halaster, and maybe in the afternoon Rarity could look into if the town had a travel agency or something along those lines that could get her through the desert and beyond.

As for last night’s prediction, well, seeing the receptionist at her desk caused Rarity to recall her last words to her. The mare was right. Better for her to focus on the present and on what she could do today than to stress herself silly over the uncertainties of tomorrow.

Rarity pushed the vague warnings to the back of her mind up until she reached the library’s entrance. As she was about to push past the doors, the red hooded mare’s instructions about this place popped up in her head, and she stopped and removed her hoof from the handle. A part of Rarity wanted her to ignore those instructions and continue on her way, but the explicitness of the directions which was in stark contrast to how nebulous everything else had been made it difficult for Rarity to just simply disregard what the mare had said. “Do not step foot into the library” wasn’t exactly opened to interpretation, though she failed to think of how purposely not taking advantage of the vast collection of knowledge behind these doors was going to do her any good.

A fake cough from behind interrupted her inner debate. “If you’re not going to go inside, then stop blocking the way.”

“Professor, please,” came a second, quieter, less raspy voice. “I-I’m sorry. Please, take your time.”

“Oh no, I should be apologizing,” Rarity said, stepping to the side. “I didn’t mean to—“

There was something about the mare in front of her that caused Rarity to stop and stare. It took her moment to figure out why, and when it finally clicked, Rarity’s mouth fell open in her shock. She blinked away, but the familiar bespectacled face of Bluestockings, the scholar from Candelkeep, remained before her. Bluestockings’s own jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she in turn recognized Rarity. “Wait, you’re—“

“Yes, from the Merry Landing!”

“Oh my goodness, it is you! We all thought you had...” The mare trailed off as she shook her head. “Captain Brine Drinker was beside himself when no one could find you on board. What happened?”

“I lost my balance when we were being attacked by that sea monster and fell off,” Rarity explained.

“Sea monster? Wait, was that what caused all that damage to the ship? We were told it was just a storm.” Bluestockings looked as she wanted to press the subject further, her eyes darting over Rarity excitedly, but she shook her head and said instead, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. It’s still wonderful to see you alive and well. How long have you been at the schools?”

“A little over a week now. And you?“

“We actually arrived here only a couple—“

Another forced cough came forth, interrupting Bluestockings before she could finished answering Rarity’s question. “Yes, yes, good to see, uh, whoever you are again,” groused Professor Pedagogue who somehow looked even grumpier and more unpleasant than she remembered him being, “but we are very busy ponies with a very important job to do.” He jerked his head toward the library doors. “Come along, Miss Bluestockings, we have a schedule to keep.”

Bluestockings sighed and shot Rarity an apologetic look and a sorry smile. “Let’s talk later,” she whispered quickly. “We’re staying at an establishment called Leomund’s Modestly Priced Bed and Breakfast[i/] and should be there for another week at least.” Then, with one last nod, she hurried after her impatient senior.

“Out of my way!” Rarity rolled her eyes at Pedagogue’s exclamation to some poor soul standing just out of her view, and she watched the two Candelkeep academics march into the library and vanished behind those doors. Less than a second later, the doors swung back open, and out stepped a familiar figure in a brown jacket, grumbling to herself as she dusted off her fedora.

“Stupid rude old pony,” the diamond dog muttered. She put on her hat, and as she was straightening it, Athkatla Bones looked up and caught sight of Rarity. Her sullen appearance immediately brightened, and before Rarity could finish a single wave or begin to smile, Athkatla scrambled up to her.

“O-oh!” Slightly unnerved by Athkatla’s sudden approach along with her wolfish grin, Rarity stepped back to make some space between them. “Um, hello there, Miss Bones. I see you’ve had a rather productive start this morning.”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, yes.” Athkatla’s head bobbed up and down rapidly. “Yes, very productive. Read much. Learn much. Going to look for you now, but you here now. Good, very good.”

“I’m sorry. You were looking for me?”

“Yes. Going to see tomb of Ahghairon. Need help. Need pass.” She pointed a paw at Rarity. “Your pass. Pass still has Dean von Zarovich’s symbol?”

Rarity took out her pass and unraveled it. The lines von Zarovich had written and the stamp of the raven and the unicorn skull were all still there. “And you want me to come with you to this tomb?” she asked.

“Just to entrance,” Athkatla said, shaking her head. “Don’t need help exploring. Need to get there. You have map of archeological sights, have permission to visit. You help now?”

“Now? As in right this moment? Well, I suppose, if it’s just to the entrance, but.”

The next few seconds went by in silence. “But?” Athkatla prompted with a wave when Rarity showed no inclination of finishing her sentence.

“Say, Miss Bones, would you say that you and I are familiar with each other?”

The bipedal canine’s brow furrowed as her lips curled into a confused frown. “Maybe? Somewhat? Yes? Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Rarity couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You wouldn’t happen to have, by any chance, heard of something called the Horn of Halaster before, have you? Maybe you’ve come across it in your studies or travels?”

“Halaster.” Athkatla tapped her chin as her eyes rolled from one side to the other. “Hm, yes, familiar. Heard before. Hm. Ah!” She pounded her fist into her open palm. “Yes. Old story from before the schools of magic were set up. About prison for criminal mages, said to steal away magic to keep prisoners powerless. Warden mad mage Halaster. You have von Zarovich’s map?”

The map of temples and other archeological sites that von Zarovich had provided Rarity had been left behind in her room with her saddlebags and most of her other gear. As they made their way to the inn, Athkatla relayed the local legend of Halaster, one of the many wizards and sorcerers who built a magic-centric civilization here following the mysterious fall of the precursors. That civilization would eventually become the current schools of magic, and much of the old infrastructure was still being used in some way today. Halaster’s prison was an exception, and it had been abandoned to time and left to rot with the other ruins. All surviving records had depicted the place and its superintendent as being especially cruel, and the fact that the place’s enchantment had yet to be lifted, leaving any mage without their arcane abilities and any magical item ordinary while they were within the walls, meant that the schools of magic mostly just tried to stay away from it.

Of course, there was always a number of younger, more foolhardy students who saw the prison as a challenge, and every year would see a string of traumatized youngsters, seen full and puffed up with confidence only the night before, stumble back into town, bringing with them tales of vengeful spirits that haunted the empty cells, large ogre guards still making their patrol rounds, and an eerie statue of Halaster himself in the prison’s center that apparently stared at any intruders who dared come close, his crooked horn glowing with a sickly dull light.

“And am I to assume that this horn on the statue is the Horn of Halaster?” Rarity asked as the two of them climbed up the stairs of the Hag’s Haven.

Athkatla nodded. “Some say horn what prevents magic. Or what keeps ghost of prisoners in. Don’t know. Lots of theories, mostly just rumors. You interested?”

“You could say so, yes.” They entered Rarity’s room, and from her bags they produced the map of colorful triangles. Ahghairon’s tomb was found relatively quickly, its location marked by a dark green flag, and the little gray triangle that represented Halaster’s prison wasn’t all that much further away.

Rarity changed into her cloak and grabbed her gear, and the two left the inn. With some help from Athkatla, she managed to find a small store along the way that sold some mundane general supplies in addition to their more popular enchanted stock, and at Athkatla’s recommendation, she pick out a few choice items like a length of rope, some pitons and a mallet, a loaded tinderbox, and some torches, typical dungeoneering equipment as Athkatla so put it. Then, once she was ready, she and Athkatla set off to the edge of town, walking on until the street and the surrounding buildings disappeared and they were back before the pair of feline folk and the desk that they shared. One cursory check through Rarity’s pass later and they were once again standing in the desert sand, right outside the infinite tower with the sun shining brightly down upon them.

The two entered the field of flags and structural remains together, but after an hour or so their paths diverged. As they had so discussed earlier back in Rarity’s room, Athkatla didn’t have a whole lot interest in some dilapidated penitentiary that had been turned into little more than a test of courage or club initiation by some careless juveniles, and curious though she might have been about the anti-magic field surrounding the area, the adventuring archeologist doubted there’d be anything of notable value.

Still, to repay the favor of helping her get to her own goal, Athkatla did offer to accompany Rarity to Halaster’s prison some other day, just not this day. All this Rarity accepted gratefully, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick survey of the place first since she was already here. It wasn’t like magic neutralization could do much to her, what with Rarity already lacking her natural magically talents, and despite her previous experience with the local historical vestiges, she didn’t put a great deal of stock into the accounts of ghosts and ogres given that such claims came from frightened youths after what was probably well past their bedtime.

Rarity soon arrived at her destination, an eroded ringed wall that stood hardly any taller than she was next to the gray flag she had been following. All that remained of what Rarity assumed to be a great tower, like the one on the fate reader’s card last evening, was its crumbling, uneven base which failed to inspire any dread in her, especially in the light of day. She could spot rumble sticking out of the sand some distance away, perhaps pieces of the collapsed tower’s upper levels, and after marching the circumference of the wall, Rarity found a number of gated entrances. Many of the gates were rusted into place or were blocked by debris, but Rarity eventually found an open passage and walked inside.

The moment Rarity stepped foot inside the former prison, her perception of the place switched from the ruined foundations of a tower to that of a well meant for a town of titans as she now stood at the edge of a great pit. Even with the sun being at its zenith, Rarity could barely make out the surface of the hole’s bottom, and any details to what rested there at the very bottom were beyond her vision no matter how hard she squinted. What she could see were the numerous barred chambers that made up the pit’s walls, likely where additional prisoners were held back in the day when the structure was still in operation. As far as she could tell, there were by Rarity’s count six, maybe seven floors of cells, which meant that, by her best estimate, the pit before her was roughly sixty to seventy feet deep. Not exactly an endless abyss, but it would still take Rarity a good few hours to thoroughly check.

Searching the ground floor, on the other hoof, required almost no time at all, but all she was able to find up here was dust, dirt, and broken pieces of the surrounding walls. Nothing worthwhile, and there definitely wasn’t any horn lying around. That meant if the seer was right in her readings, Rarity’s horn could only be somewhere in that pit, and she had so happened to locate a stairway leading down to the cells below during her search of the ground walls and rooms.

The question of how to get down to the levels below was now a nonissue, and after going through a few minutes of self-deliberation, Rarity decided to extend her search. She started making her way down the stairs, using the light of the early noon sun to guide her steps and illuminate the cells as she walked along the inner platform that was between the jail bars and the hole. Most of the cells, Rarity discovered, were tightly sealed, their doors rusted shut and in place. She did manage to find a few with loose bars and even some spots where enough of the iron had eroded away that there was space for a full grown mare to crawl through, though Rarity refrained from doing so; she could tell that besides some rusty shackles and chains, the cells on this section were as empty as the rooms upstairs.

The next level was hardly any better, the only difference being a torn piece of fabric caught around one of the bars. It looked relatively recent enough that it must have been left behind by a fleeing student, but to what might have possibly frightened this theoretical student into ruining a perfectly good cloak, well, there were a couple of shadowy shapes that gave Rarity a bit of a shock, but stepping to the side and allowing the light above to shine through revealed the shapes to nothing more than piles of rubble. So far, no hint of a horn, and Rarity was beginning to grow discouraged and impatient. Still, she continued on, forcing herself to slow down as flooring of the lower levels started to show signs of deterioration.

There was also noticeably less and less daylight reaching to her as Rarity went further down, either due to the additional distance between her and the surface or because the sun had moved to different position. Eventually, it came to the point where she had to light a torch so that she could check the interiors of the cells and to make sure she didn’t misstep. Now Rarity was starting to feel uneasy, maybe even afraid. Every questionable silhouette caused her to nearly jump, and the beating of her heart doubled at the sound of her own hoofsteps. Thoughts of returning to the surface, abandoning her search, and restarting this expedition at a later date with the more seasoned Athkatla shoved their way to the forefront of Rarity’s mind. Part of Rarity berate her for being so needlessly reckless as she pushed on to the next floor while another part chided her for being so easily frightened and argued that the fear was all in her head, that she had yet to encounter anything that warranting her fright.

A new voice, the voice of Pinkie Pie, entered Rarity’s head when one particularly menacing shadow was revealed to simply be a primitive toilet, and at the advice the Pinkie in her head sang, Rarity let out a giggle. The sound echoed out, becoming louder as it bounced along the ringed wall until her dainty little laugh filled the entire pit. Rarity’s hoof flew over her mouth moments too late, her breath held as she waited. Even when her giggle finally faded away into nothing, Rarity kept still with her ears perked up and listening for any respondent noises. She thought she had heard something, Rarity wasn’t sure what, it could have been footsteps or an object being knocked onto the ground, but when several minutes passed in complete silence, she allowed herself a quiet sigh and attributed the supposed noise to her imagination and shaky nerves. Rarity then spent another few minutes to take some steadying breaths and calm down, moving forward only once she felt that she had her head on straight.

The search of the cells soon quickened once it became clear that there was nothing in them, and Rarity condensed the whole process down to a sweep of the enclosed spaces with her torch and a glance. By the end of the hour, she was starting to approach the pit’s bottom, and as she got closer to the bottom, Rarity noticed both a soft buzzing sound and a faint glow coming from its center. Recalling the tale of a glowing horn attached to a statue caused Rarity’s heart to skip a beat, but the light was too weak to reveal much of its source, and she was still too high up for her own light to do much good. It wasn’t until she had gotten to the floor right above the bottom and had extended her torch as far as she could reach over the edge that she could make out the outline of the rumored statue of Halaster, and though the dim light failed to disclose any noteworthy details, she could see that the glow she had seen was indeed coming from the statue’s forehead.

Caught up in her excitement, Rarity failed to notice just how far the flame had gotten down the torch she was holding. It wasn’t so close that the fire would have left a burn, but the discomforting heat did cause her grip over her torch to loosen, and before Rarity could adjust her hold, the wood shaft slipped out of her hoof and dropped to the floor below. It clattered noisily against the ground, the sound amplified by the circular structure of the place just as it had for Rarity’s laugh, only this time the sound of stomping that soon followed was unmistakably real, and they were getting louder by the second.

As the pounding steps reached a crescendo, a large gangly creature leapt out of the shadows, its wrinkled green skin exposed by the light of the fallen torch. The creature stood hunched over on two legs with its long arms dangling past the stained, raggedy loincloth around its waist, reaching even beyond its knees. Each arm was punctuated with a hand of wickedly curved claws, and its fangs flashed as it hissed and swiped at the fire before it. The monster raised it head, giving Rarity a regretfully good look of its hideous, angular face, much of which was taken up by a massive, squashed nose and covered in warts. The greasy dreadlocks atop the creature’s head shook as it sniffed at the air, and suddenly, it turned its beady eyes to Rarity’s spot.

Immediately, Rarity scrambled away from the edge and ducked down behind the wrecked remains of a wall. She covered her mouth to keep the creature from noticing her panicked breathing, if it wasn’t already too late. Rarity tried to keep an ear up, tried to listen for any clues to what the creature was doing now, but it was difficult to hear anything over the hammering of her own heart. Had the monster seen her or not? Should she attempt an escape or would it be better to keep hidden? Rarity was still considering her limited options, her thought racing a mile a minute, when she heard the stomping start up again, but this time it sounded as though the steps were moving away from her.

Rarity peeked her head out in time to catch the creature disappear into a tunnel. Any urge to relax she quickly banished however as she continued to stare down into the pit, half expecting the creature to suddenly charge right back toward her. The sound of the heavy footsteps gradually tapered off and faded as the distance between their source and Rarity increased. The creature must not have noticed her or just didn’t care that she was trespassing. Whatever the reason, she was safe, at least for the time being.

Slowly, quietly, Rarity picked herself up and got back onto her feet. She started to turn around, having had her fill of danger for today and ready to return to the surface, when a glint down below caught her eye and caused her to halt her retreat. The torch had gone out, leaving the faint glow the sole source of light in the area, and it seemed to be growing brighter. The longer she stared, the harder Rarity found it was to look away or justify leaving. She had gotten so far, and her goal was now so close, only maybe a stone throw away. Did she really want to have to come back later, to have to go through another round trip of all those stairs? And even if Rarity had Athkatla by her side, there was no telling if the diamond dog had the means to deal with that ogre or troll or whatever it was, and the extra paws and presence might actually make it easier to draw the creature’s unwanted attention and possibly even its wraith.

Rarity carefully made her way back to the rim of the platform and stared at the barely visible tunnel that the monster had disappeared into. There was no telling where it led or how deep it went, but seeing as the monster could no longer be heard, it seemed reasonable to assume that it was now a good, safe distance away. If she was quick, if she was careful, if she was smart, then surely she’d be able to get down there and grab her horn without alerting the monster then leave before it could return. It was risky, yes, and there was no denying how dangerous this could possibly be, but Rarity’s entire journey up to this point had been fraught with risk and danger, and she wouldn’t have gotten this far by being timid.

And in any case, surely getting back her magic was worth the potential peril.

A quick glance revealed no obvious stairs or passageways leading further down. The new coil of rope came out, and Rarity fastened an end to one of the sturdier bars from a nearby jail cell. She gave it a few good tugs to test the knot’s integrity, and once satisfied, Rarity returned to the edge overlooking the base of the pit and gently lowered the other end of her line. The fifty foot length was more than adequate for the twenty or so feet between her and the bottom, and soon there was a decently sized pile of extra rope on the floor.

Rarity gave the rope one last pull, then she began her descent, moving slowly at first to test her weight and to get acclimated to the unfamiliar act of rope climbing. The rope held, and Rarity got the hang of alternating her grip in conjunction with the shifting of her body by the time her hooves touched solid ground. She landed as softly as she could and waited to see if there was any reaction to her arrival, readying herself to hurry back up the rope at the first threatening sign. Nothing appeared, and the space around Rarity remained dead silent. She took a cautious step toward the glow in the center, almost dragging her hoof along the ground’s surface in an attempt to keep quiet.

Still nothing. Rarity continued forward, and slowly, as she got closer to the center, the statue of a pony upon a pedestal came into view. Illuminated by the glow she had been following, Rarity saw that the sculpture was of a caped stallion posing proudly. Much of the details was worn away, but Rarity could still see the hint of a cruel sneer on the smoothed face. Other than that malicious grin and a beard, the only other facial feature that remained was the luminous horn sprouting out of the stone stallion’s forehead.

As Rarity examined the horn, it became increasingly apparent to her that something was amiss. It didn’t look right, like it was out of place and didn’t belong, and as Rarity approached, she soon realized why. The horn was too short to belong to the larger than life statue, and it wasn’t on entirely straight, with the spiraling accessory leaning slightly crooked to the left. The colors, as far as she could tell from the horn’s light, didn’t match, with the horn being a very familiar white and the statue it was attached to a much darker gray. Maybe the difference in color was just due to the horn lacking the same wearing away that the rest of the statue suffered from, but they didn’t look like they were even of the same material.

It was an interesting observation that segued nicely to the question of how her horn ended up here of all places to begin with, but Rarity really couldn’t afford to dwell on any of that right this moment. She found the horn. Wonderful. Now she had to retrieve it and get out of this pit before it’s ogreish guardian returned. Taking a few more steps brought her right to the base of the statue where she looked up and frowned. The combined height of the stone stallion and the pedestal he was standing on left her horn well out of her reach. Rarity turned to where all her extra cord laid but decided against it and instead pulled herself onto the raised platform. At least the statue was posing in a way that gave her plenty of places to grab onto, Rarity quickly learned as she climbed.

From the pedestal to the statue’s haunch to its upper back and finally to its broad shoulders and neck, Rarity steadily reduced the distance between herself and her objective until at last her hoof wrapped around the horn at the very top. It wiggled at her touch, but despite the suggested looseness, the horn still resisted her attempts to free it from the statue’s head. Rarity struggled vainly for a little while longer before stopping to pull out her dagger. Feeling around the smoothed stone forehead, she found the point where the horn connected to the sculpted pony and wedged the tip of the blade into the space, taking great care to to avoid scrapping the obsidian against her horn.

The horn popped out easily after that, so easily in fact that Rarity nearly lost her balance. With horn in one hoof and dagger in the other, she threw her forelegs around the statue’s neck as her back legs tightened around its chest. For a moment, everything was still, and it seemed as though Rarity’s maneuver had saved her from a nasty fall, but the moment came to an end, and the silence was broken by loud crack. Rarity felt her whole world abruptly lurch backwards, and she immediately released the statue and jumped down. She landed with a hard thud and a pained cry, but letting go gave her the time she needed to roll out of the path of the statue’s falling torso.

The stone smashed against the floor, and with a deafening crash, it exploded into several fragments, wiping away the sneer that had been on the stallion’s face along with any resemblance to an equine head. Rarity groaned and winced as she picked herself up and made sure that she still had both her dagger and her newfound horn and that she hadn’t sustained any major injuries. She was still checking for bruises and brushing off dust when the ringing in her ears gave way the sounds of a thunderous sprint. The hurried steps got louder and louder by the second, and Rarity, her blood running cold from realizing just how rapidly they were approaching her position, turned and hobbled to her rope.

The ground started to tremble, announcing the creature’s return as it burst out of the tunnel’s mouth, it’s chest rising and falling heavily from its rushed commute here. It became still before the presented scene, its eyes sweeping over the stone pieces littering the floor and the set of legs that still stood on top of the pedestal until the creature’s gaze landed on the glowing horn Rarity was holding

Rarity swallowed and ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth in an attempt to regain a bit of moisture. The creature was intelligent enough to understand the concept of clothing and modesty, maybe she could convince it, or rather, them to let her go in peace. Bare minimum, initiating a conversation would buy her some time to think of a plan and maybe even distract the creature long enough for Rarity to gather her energy and make a dash for the rope. She took in a deep breath.

“Ah, excuse me, I—“

The creature’s enraged roar filled the air, and it leapt toward her. Rarity ducked, and those giant claws swept mere inches over her head. So much for trying to talk her way out of this mess, as much of a long shot as it may have been. She tried to run, but down came the creature’s second hand, and this time it caught Rarity by her shoulder, the dirty claws digging in painfully as its grip tightened in retort to her twisting and struggling.

With her free foreleg, Rarity brought her dagger back and plunged it into the monster’s wrist, inciting an agonized howl and causing it to release her. She jumped back in time to avoid the creature’s gnashing teeth as it leaned forward for a bite, then she swung again, bringing the black blade right across its face. A new plan began to formulate in Rarity’s head as the creature reeled back. Dispatching this monstrous foe by her lonesome and with only a dagger was, outside of there being a miracle, highly improbable, but if she succeeded in inflicting enough damage, that might convince the creature that she wasn’t worth the pain. The thought fueled her limbs, giving them strength as Rarity continued to avoid claws and fangs while seizing every opportunity to striking back.

One particularly careless swing of a claw left the creature’s entire left flank vulnerable, and Rarity sprung forward to capitalize on the beast’s mistake. She jammed the dagger deep into the side of the creature’s stomach, dealing a most excruciating wound if the reactionary yell was anything to go by. In the glow of her critical blow, however, Rarity realized seconds too late that she had overextended, and she had little to no time to dodge the creature’s next attack. The claw slashed across her front, cutting through the fabric of her cloak and leaving behind a moderately shallow gash, nothing too serious if treated, but as Rarity staggered back and out of way of the other claw, she doubted the creature would give her the chance to do so.

Her spare dagger was drawn, the one from Elder Woods’s still stuck in the ogre’s gut, but even as Rarity readied her weapon, she could feel herself tire. Her breathing was beginning to be strained, forced, and unsteady, and her limbs were on the brink of shaking. Then, as by the light of the horn she watched the wound in her foe’s side rapidly heal and close over the obsidian, swallowing up the blade, her remaining will to keep fighting began to crumble. Her eyes widened in further horror as the other stab and slash marks she had bestowed upon that large green body started to vanish as well. Her disfiguring of its face was the last to go, and the creature grinned down at Rarity, licking the fronts of its bared teeth with a slimy purple tongue.

Rarity slammed her dagger back into its scabbard and broke straight into a gallop. She might not have had much combat experience, but even she recognized that this was a truly hopeless battle. There was no sense in sticking around, not since she had gotten her objective and that it was now clear that a safe retreat was going to be impossible. Desperation lent Rarity’s legs strength and speed, and she quickly made it to her rope. Immediately, she started climbing, using her one unoccupied foreleg, her two hind legs, and even her jaw as she cradled her horn in her other front leg. Any thoughts of stopping to store the horn in her bags in order to free her other hoof disappeared at the booming of the creature’s steps against the ground.

When she had gotten about halfway up the rope, some of her panic and fear turned to hope, but all that and everything else was replaced by a sudden searing pain that nearly caused Rarity to let go. The creature’s fangs tore ruthlessly into her back while the rest of its mouth clamped down, trapping the mare in place. Thinking wildly and with no other options left to her, Rarity swung the one pointy thing that was available, her horn. The tip found its way into the creature’s eye, and though it didn’t go too deep, being little more than a quick poke, it still caused the creature’s jaws to open up. The second Rarity felt those fangs exit her, she took off, pulling herself up with as much might as she could muster and as swiftly as she could. She felt the claws cut the air below her, and when her hooves brushed solid ground and grabbed hold of the platform’s edge, she heard a great, horrific scream of rabid vexation.

The scream was promptly followed by loud scraping and snarling, which drew Rarity back to the edge to see that the creature was climbing after her, using its claws to dig clunks of stone out of the wall to create handholds. Rarity started to run, but by now the adrenaline was finally wearing off, and her injuries had started to take their toll. Her legs turned to jelly and were sluggish and unresponsive to her commands, and even the clamor of climbing getting nearer would not spur them. There was no outrunning the creature in her current condition, she’d be amazed if she managed even make it to the first flight of stairs, and resuming her skirmish with the creature was a lost cause.

With both fight and flight off the table, Rarity frantically looked around for some place to hide. She limped over to where she had secured the top of her rope just as a giant green claw slammed down onto the platform. There was no time to think as Rarity turned to the cells behind her and dove into the space between the bars and began to forcefully squeezed through. She twisted, turned, and sucked in her stomach, ignoring the abrasion of iron against her sore body, until finally she tumbled into the dingy, dirty cell just in time to watch the ogre slam itself against the bars behind her. The creature continued to screech as it pounded away at the bars with its fists. When it was obvious that the metal would hold despite the creature’s immense strength, it tried to reach in to grab at her, but Rarity scooted back to the furthest corner, pressing her back to the wall and staying what she hoped was well out of reach of those nasty claws.

The screaming and smashing and spitting eventually stopped as the creature grew visibly fatigued, and with one last hateful glare and a final frustrated slam on the bars, it retreated and returned to the pit’s bottom then stomped off. Any audible presence of the creature faded as it got further away, but Rarity didn’t move. A cursed mix of fright and exhaustion weighed every inch of her body down, and it was some minutes later before she felt feeling again in her limbs, none of which were pleasant. Sores and aches assaulted her joints, but more demanding was the pain of her injuries. The claw marks on her chest and the bite on her back burned and reminded her of their existence, and with a groan, Rarity forced herself up. She removed her cloak and laid out the first aid kit from the free market bazaar. Salves cooled the burning and cleaned the wounds, and strips of linen covered them, though she had some trouble dealing with the teeth gashes on her back.

With her wounds addressed, Rarity started to calm down, and after choking down her very last stick of preserved vegetable paste and a few sips from her canteen, she was beginning to feel better. She wasn’t exactly at one hundred percent, but after a little more rest, Rarity would be able handle some stairs, and with passageways between the floor too narrow for the monster to move through, she didn’t have to worry about being pursued. She let out a relieved sigh and for the first time in what felt like a long stretch of time allowed herself to relax.

Rarity got redressed and was in the middle of repacking her saddlebags when her hoof brushed against the horn. The light coming from it was slowly diminishing, and when she picked it up, she noticed something else. Had her horn always been so light? Rarity never had really payed much mind to the weight of her horn when it had still been affixed to her forehead, but with it being held in her hooves like this, she couldn’t help but find it’s lack of heft peculiar. She turned it over to check its base and learned that the bottom was open and that the rest of the horn was hollow like a funnel.

That couldn’t be right, her horn was solid. Rarity was sure of it, all unicorn horns were. That was as basic as one could get with unicorn anatomy, and what’s more, they most definitely weren’t supposed to open up at the tip either. By what little light it was still being emitting, Rarity inspected the horn’s peak with the uttermost care, her detail-oriented eye picking apart every last minutia they found, and what she ended up discovering almost caused her to drop the horn. Instead, Rarity slumped against the wall, her heart suddenly heavy.

The tip was a mouthpiece. It was indeed a horn, an old fashion trumpeter’s horn.

40. What You Wish For

What You Wish For

It was some time later when Rarity finally found the energy to leave that cell. As she walked along the edge’s side and looked down to the pit’s dark bottom, there was a small, emotional part of her that wanted her to toss the horn back into the pit. The urge quickly passed, leaving her feeling burnt out and empty, and she put the crude trumpet in her saddlebags instead. Rarity couldn’t the deny the potential catharsis she could’ve gotten out of chucking the source of all her new frustration with all her might, but it only took her a second thought to realize that rendering all the time, sweat, and pain that was spent into retrieving this little misunderstanding moot and wasted wasn’t something was she really all too willing to do.

Not that Rarity was so sure this expedition had been anything else but a colossal waste of time, sweat, and pain. She had even lost Elder Woods’s dagger in that futile skirmish, and all she had to show of it was some ancient musical instrument she had no use for. Weariness turned to anger as Rarity ascended, the rage directionless at first before targeting the old mare in red for misleading her then to herself for accepting the seer’s advice so readily. She even felt some blame bubbling toward the Queen of Fey, and Rarity had to wonder, did they know? Elkraps had mentioned that the Fey were tricksters, was telling her that her horn was here in the south some sort of cruel prank? But the Queen’s instructions on seeking out necromancy had all been legitimate so why—

Rarity shook those thoughts out of her head. All this shifting in her moods, from relief to shock to exhausting depression to anger to now confusion, was giving her a severe case of emotional whiplash. Too much had happened far too quickly, and processing everything would take time, but for now, it might be best for Rarity to focus on something she could understand and control, namely climbing back up to the surface.

The journey upward was even less uneventful than the trip down had been, given that the creature never did show its ugly green face again, and with Rarity only stopping once to prepare another torch for light, it only took her a little under an hour to return to the ground floor. There she was greeted by a welcomed breath of fresh air and both the light and warmth of the sun’s rays, all of which helped improve Rarity’s state of mind and gave her something else to dwell upon beside that whole debacle of a mission, if only for a couple of seconds. She thought about heading to the tomb of Ahghairon to rendezvous with Athkatla Bones and let her know what had happened, maybe have the more experienced adventurer’s take a look at Rarity’s prize to determine if it was of any value, but she then remembered that Athkatla’s task was supposed to take most of the day, and it was currently only around mid afternoon. Rarity didn’t want to have to spend several hours waiting at the entrance of some mausoleum for the diamond dog to finish her job, so she started making her way back to the endless tower out in the distance, alone.

The surrounding shops and residences the paved streets of the schools of magic returned after Rarity had been waved through, and she continued on to the Hag’s Haven. Before she could even think of doing anything else, she needed to first wash the dust and gunk and abandoned prison smell off and change into something with fewer rips and tears. Depending on how extensive the damage was and whether or not it was mendable, it might be time to retire her old cloak. Rarity sincerely hoped that wouldn’t be the case, she wasn’t sure her heart could handle losing the last of Elder Woods’s gifts.

An owl was perched upon the inn’s sign today rather than the usual fat raven. A nocturnal animal out and about when there was still so much daylight was certainly an odd sight, but what made truly Rarity stop to stare was the bird’s appearance. Something about those snow white feathers seemed familiar, but Rarity struggled to think of when or where she had seen them before. The bird appeared to be glaring back at her, and it suddenly spread its wings and hissed, causing Rarity to step back, before it took to the air and flew off. Rarity watched as the owl headed toward the cathedral in the town’s center, still trying to come up with a reason to why she felt as though this wasn’t her first encounter with that particular specimen.

The mysterious feeling of familiarity went away once the owl went out of sight. It probably wasn’t all that important, Rarity decided as she pushed open the door and stepped into the cat littered lobby of the inn. The mare at the front desk waved over to her, but her relieved smile faded when Rarity got closer and the mare got a better look at her. “Goodness me, dearie. What in blazes happened to you?

Rarity, fully aware of her less than lackluster appearance, bit back a sigh and did her best to smile. She shifted and tugged at the cloak in an attempt to make the massive holes the ogre had left with its claws and teeth less obvious. “Oh, this? Nothing really. Just, following up on a lead your sister gave me. I don’t suppose she’s still around, is she?”

“No, I’m afraid she left town early this morning. The dear never stays around for very long, doesn’t like to be stuck in one place.” The receptionist leaned back and sighed. “Well, it’s good to see you’re still in one piece, even if that piece’s a bit scuffed up and all. I wasn’t sure what to think when that professor came in here asking for you and now here you are in that state.”

“Someone was asking for me?”

“Oh yeah,” the older mare said. She stroked her chin and hummed. “Now, let me see, what did she look like again? Was a mare, had one of those ridiculous beards, a dead giveaway to being part of those stuffy schools. Had, was it a blue mane or a red one?”

“Did her coat happen to be a shade of light purple?” Rarity asked.

“Yeah, something like that. Her name was, oh, what was it? Elkraps, I think. Yeah, that was it.” The mare nodded. “Anyways, it sounded like she was asking all around town for you and learned that you were lodging here. She mentioned something about you not answering her sendings. Now don’t you worry, I didn’t give her anything, in case she was one of them crazy admirers or something,” she assured before frowning with her lips pressed tightly together. “Still, if I were you, I’d be careful, those wizards’ll find you one way or another.“

“I appreciate the concern, truly, but Twi—, er, Elkraps is a, an acquaintance, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Oh. Well never mind then.” The mare chuckled. “And here I was thinking you had gotten yourself in some sort of trouble. Well anyways, the lady wanted me to let you know to expect a message tomorrow morning if you ever did show, so there’s that.”

“I see. And she say what this message would be about?”

“Nah, can’t say that she did,” was the receptionist’s answer. “She left in a hurry, so it probably isn’t too important if she couldn’t stick around to explain that much. Then again, the mare did look awfully frazzled, like she had a lot to do today.” The receptionist shrugged. “Ah well, whatever it’s about, you’ll know tomorrow. In the mean time,” she said as she gave Rarity another once-over, “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting another basin and wash rag sent up to your room.”

“Yes please, and could I trouble you for a needle and some string and spare cloth? Preferably anything similar in color to this.” Rarity gestured to her drab, torn traveler’s cloak.

The request caused a look of confusion to flicker across the mare’s features. “Oh! You‘re asking a sewing kit. Yeah, I think we’ve got a couple lying around here somewhere picking up dust. Not a whole lot of folk bother dirtying their hooves and whatnot with that kind of work, most would just magic the damage away or find someone to do it for them.” She frowned as she regarded the state of Rarity’s attire. “Honestly, you might be better off spending the gold to get it mended or just getting a new one, but if you really want to try, I’ll send some supplies up with your soap and water shortly.”

Rarity thanked the mare and headed upstairs to her room. Half an hour later, a soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts, and she opened it to find a bowl of warm water and a bar of soap on top of a folded towel. Besides the stack of toiletries was a red cloth sack, and inside there was a small pincushion of needles, a few spools of thread, and some strips and patches of burgundy and brown. Rarity brought everything inside and got straight to work, starting off by wiping down every inch of her body within reach. Once clean or as clean as she could possibly get with what was available, Rarity laid out her cloak inside out on the floor in front of her and set the sewing supplies around it.

It had been some time since Rarity last threaded a needle solely by hoof, but as she worked her skill gradually returned. Patching up the holes by attaching the scrap cloth to the inner fabric was an easy enough task, but there was nothing she could do about the damage to the exterior layer. The needles were just not thick enough to pierce completely through the outer canvas, and the thread wasn’t strong enough to hold those parts together. The end result was wearable, and at least now the cloak didn’t look as though it would fall apart at the gentlest brush, one might not have even noticed the rents and rips if at a distance, but it wasn’t anything to write home about either, especially considering that the job had taken Rarity most of the remaining day. So caught up was she with her attempts to fix the clothes that had served her so well and for so long that she failed to realize how dark her room had gotten, and through the window she watched the sky slowly turned red as the sun left its stage to make room for the moon and stars.

Rarity went down for supper, a creamy mushroom and pea risotto that was a stark contrast to the dried ration stick she had for lunch, and after enjoying a refreshing, relaxing mint tea for dessert, she was ready for bed. Some of her good mood reverted at the sight of the horn’s mouthpiece peeking out of her bags, but that was easily remedied by shoving everything into the closet. Who knew, maybe Elkraps had some use for the artifact, but that would have to wait for morning. In light of what the receptionist had told her, Rarity set the borrowed sending stone on the bedside dresser where it would easily be in reach and went to bed.

She awoke the next morning to discover that her wounds had all healed nicely overnight despite the minimal medical attention they had received. If it weren’t for the faint scars and memory of the creature sinking its fangs into her, Rarity might have questioned whether the encounter even happened. Rarity was still pondering the possibility of the provided mattress having magical healing properties, the establishment was within the schools of magic after all so it wasn’t a completely ridiculous notion, when the stone on the nightstand started to buzz noisily. Rarity grabbed at the painted rock, and as expected, the voice of Twilight Sparkle, or rather, Thigliwt Elkraps filled her head.

Princess Shmarity. There was a slight relief that Rarity almost missed in the disembodied voiced. Good to see you well. Have time to talk this morning. In office. Curious about yesterday’s interference. Can you meet in an hour?

Thank you, Miss Elkraps. Sorry I missed you yesterday. Yes, I am available. I’ll see you in an hour.

The stone became quiet, and Rarity put it to the side as she got dressed, opting to wear her finer robes today instead of her cloak. The sewing supplies she had left scattered on the ground, Rarity noted as she reorganized her saddlebags, had all vanished along with the sack they came in, the wash bowl, the used towels, and what little was left of the soap, but at this point she was used to the Hag’s Haven’s take on room service. A few minutes later, she was ready, and Rarity set off for the main campus building, moving at a leisurely pace to make the most of the hour afforded to her. She soon arrived at the familiar cathedral, and after entering through those stained glass doors, she approached the ringed desk at the entrance. A short interrogation by the uniformed mare at the desk later, and Rarity was brought up to the office of the evocation dean.

“Come on in,” Elkraps replied from inside in response to the receptionist’s knock at her door, and Rarity complied. The room was even messier than Rarity remembered it being, with stacks of books and bundles of papers having to take their place on the ground now that the furniture was all out of surface space. The owner of the office sat behind her desk, scribbling something down furiously on a sheet of parchment.

As Rarity approached the desk, a hoot from an owl perched in the corner, the same white owl from yesterday, caused Elkraps to look up and drop her pen. Seeing Rarity, the unicorn gave out a tired. rueful grin and gestured to the one of the few unoccupied chair in the room. “We had some scholars from, well, they were actually from Spiketopia of all places, and they came in yesterday with all this,” she explained as she motioned to the piles of literature cluttering her floor and sighed. “A lot of this is apparently on some former evocation students who tried starting up their own independent school a century back. They were calling it pyromancy and, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” Elkraps rolled up the parchment and set it and her pen aside. “I didn’t call you over just so I could complain your ear off about work.”

“That’s quite alright,“ Rarity said. “Still, I know you said you had time to talk, but if right now isn’t the best time, I’d certainly understand.”

“No, no, now is fine,” Elkraps assured. “Most of this is going to be delegated once I have everything organized, and I needed a break anyways, but that’s enough about that.” Elkraps sat back in her chair and tapped her hooves together. “Now I know there was something you wanted to discuss with me, but you should know first that one of Dean von Zarovich’s assistants contacted me yesterday. It sounds like whatever secret arts they’re using to bring Garbunkle back are just about ready, and we’re to meet von Zarovich at the necromancy department the morning two days from today.”

“Oh?” It was a surprise but a pleasant one for a change to hear that preparations of the spell Rarity had brought back from Valmeyjar’s temple were proceeding a little ahead of schedule. “Why, that’s wonderful news.”

“Hm, yes. I tried to tell you of this earlier, but for some reason the sending stone didn’t seem to be working. I was afraid I had lost my last set.” There was a slight frown on Elkraps’s face, more out of thoughtful curiosity than of any hurt feelings. “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing yesterday?”

And so, at Elkraps’s prompting, Rarity launched into her unfortunate quest for Halaster’s horn. Not wanting to have to explain her whole displacement situation and her sudden change in race and identity, Rarity explained that her interest in the horn was simply due to the Queen of Fey’s direction, that the mysterious being had informed her of a mystical horn in the south which would assist her in her struggle against the Squid Wizard. Other than that, Rarity spared no detail, and she soon enraptured a wide-eyed Elkraps with her depiction of the pit’s monstrous guardian.

“So some of the old jailers really were still around. I’ve heard the rumors and, we all know the place by reputation, but I’ve never actually thought about going down there myself. It would explain why my messages couldn’t seem to reach you.” The unicorn shook her head. “You’re very lucky to still be breathing. Hopefully it was worth the effort.”

Rarity fought back a wince. “Yes, well, about that.” She opened her bags and removed the horn she had appropriated from the statue’s forehead, the sole fruit of her labors. “I was wondering if perhaps you could take a look at the horn and tell me if it does have any special properties.”

“Well, let me see.” Elkraps made some room on the table and motioned Rarity to place the old trumpet down in front of her. From a drawer she produced a pinion and a pink pearl and set both before the horn. As she started to chant, the pearl lit up, and for the next ten or so minutes the office was quiet save for Elkraps’s muttering. The mage hummed to herself as the light dimmed and the ritual came to a close.

“Huh. I suppose that makes sense.” She picked the horn back up and returned it to Rarity. “It’s definitely magical. There’s a number of spells attached to it, all fairly powerful and designed to nullify magic. As it is now, you can use it once a day to dispel any magical effects, curses, or enchantments on a single target. A pretty huge gap between that and being able to create a massive anti-magic field spanning over an entire prison complex, so that statue you removed it from must have acted as an amplifier or maybe there was something else about the prison itself. That being said, it’ll still probably be plenty useful against a foe calling themselves the Squid ‘Wizard,’” Elkraps said, miming out the quotations.

So Rarity’s endeavors hadn’t been completely pointless, though she still very much would have rather had her own horn and magic. “So how does it work?”

“Oh, simple. All you have to do is point the horn at your target and blow, and that’ll be it. But, um, I wouldn’t recommend testing it out while you’re on the school grounds,” Elkraps added with her hoof held up for emphasis. “Just about everything here has some magic involved, and who knows what you’d end up dispelling.”

“I’ll be sure to be careful then,” Rarity promised as she stowed the trumpet back into her saddlebags.

“Good, good.” Elkraps shoved her spell materials back into their drawer. “So I’ve told you about our meeting with von Zarovich, we went over yesterday, was there anything else we needed to, oh right.” She tapped her forehead lightly and rolled her eyes. “The, um, thing you needed to talk to me about. Right, that, thing.” Her smile faltered and collapsed with a sigh. “I’m sorry, what was it you wanted to discuss again?”

Admittedly, it took Rarity herself a few seconds before she remembered why she had called for a meeting in the first place. “Well, once I’ve taken care of everything here, I am going to have to head back to Spiketopia. If I understanding correctly, the spell Dean von Zarovich is preparing requires the bodies of, Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz to work. Unfortunately, I’m at a loss as to how I am to do so. I’m not even entirely sure how I’m going to get through the surrounding desert now that the caravan I was with has gone. Is there any way you can help me in my return?”

Elkraps stroked her beard chin. “I mean, for crossing the Anauhock Desert, I could always arrange another caravan for you,” she began before putting on a sly little smirk, “but really, nothing can beat the speed of instant travel. Normally the teleportation circles are reserved for members of the schools only, but I’m certain I can pull a few strings to give you access, if just this once.”

Ah, of course. Rarity shouldn’t have been so surprised that teleportation was a thing here as well. If both Twilight and Starlight Glimmer individually could figure out such a spell, no doubt an entire institution dedicated to the study of magic could come up with it too. Hopefully the schools of magic had managed to improve its form along with its function, but even if they hadn’t, a brief jolt and some discomfort still beat days of trekking through the desert and a three week long voyage across the sea. “Will it get me all the way to Spiketopia?”

At this, Elkraps hesitated. “Now that might be difficult. The schools don’t have any circles prepared that up north, and teleporting you based on the destination’s description alone has a lot of risks. We might end up dropping you in the middle of the ocean or worse. Do you have anything from the place you’re trying to get to?”

“I have my old cloak, it’s from the village that first took me in,” Rarity said after a moment of thought. “And I bought this while in Baldursgait.” She held up her foreleg to show off the bronze bangle upon it.

“Then you might be able to arrange something outside the schools, but it’s a pretty big might. Finding a hedge mage with that sort of magical talent is going to be extremely challenging, not to mention very expensive, and there’s not a whole lot I’d be able to do to help you with that. You see, the schools of magic are heavily warded against object association facilitated teleportation,” Elkraps explained. “We were invaded a few centuries ago by a band of magic draining sorcerers. They got their hands on a book from our libraries and, well, by all accounts it wasn’t pretty.” She sighed and cleared her throat. “In any case, the best I can do here is get you to one of port towns and possibly help you gather funds to charter a ship. Maybe you can find those scholars I mentioned early, they should still be around. They mentioned having to go back to Spiketopia to get more books once they’ve finished securing a deal with us. We could work something out with them.”

A reference to Bluestockings and Pedagogue, no doubt, and though Rarity wasn’t looking forward to having to spend even more time in a cramp cabin with the grumbling old professor, it didn’t look like she had many other options, and at the very least she could avoid the perilous desert journey. Rarity was planning on visiting Bluestockings anyways, so she could broach the subject with the shy assistant then, but for now, she continued her current discussion with Elkraps. There were a few more ideas thrown around like extending the offer of teleportation to the Candelkeep scholars in exchange for taking Rarity along or even Rarity utilizing her status as the princess of Spiketopia to coerce them into cooperating. Eventually, the subject matter ran dry, and the conversation shifted to less consequential topics, and once they had exhausted the small talk and finished checking up on each other’s day, Rarity excused herself and left Thigliwt Elkraps to her work.

Having nothing else planned for the rest of her day, Rarity decided that she might as well speak to Bluestockings now. The magic maps scattered along the streets made it easy to locate this Leomund’s Modestly Priced Bed and Breakfast[i/], and before long, Rarity was in the lobby of a fairly nondescript inn speaking to the stallion behind the counter who was surrounded by cubbyholes and key racks. A runner was sent out and returned to the front desk minutes later with the blue, bespectacled mare in tow, her light red mane down and not in its usual style of a tight bun. This new look definitely suited the young mare better, though Rarity could see some tangled spots that could use some brushing, and despite it been late morning, Bluestockings looked as though she was constantly fighting back a yawn.

She had been up late last night reading a new book she had bought the other day, Bluestockings explained as she led the way to a small cafe within the establishment, and once they had taken their seats and ordered some tea and biscuits, the two mares began to swap stories. Rarity told of how she had been washed ashore near Cowdim-La, how she navigated the free market bazaar and found Tariq and Alharir, how she and they and their hired guards got through the desert and made it to the schools of magic, and how she had been working with the schools, searching ancient temple ruins on their behalf as a trade for the preparation of certain magic. Bluestockings was an attentive audience, especially during the scuffle with the slavers at the oasis and her expedition in Valmeyjar’s temple, and when Rarity had concluded her tale, she in return explained that after the seas had calmed and the initial panic following the discovery of Rarity’s disappearance, the crew of the Merry Landing spent several hours frantically searching the waters before, at Professor Pedagogue’s insistence, Captain Brine Drinker reluctantly brought the ship to dock. There at the New Tesaddledale’s harbor the ship remained, undergoing repairs as her crew waited for their clients’s return. It had taken her and Pedagogue a few days to prepare for the road to the schools, and though their trip through the desert sands was nearly twice the length of Rarity’s, they and their hired muscle made it here without any incident whatsoever.

Talk of the recent past and current present inevitably led to discussing the future. It quickly became apparent to Rarity that her spot on the Merry Landing was still rightfully hers to with as she pleased, and considering how much the good professor had complained during their time in the hot desert, any potential method of expediting that arduous journey would be a blessing to every creature involved. Even if teleportation hadn’t been an option available to them, Bluestockings assured with a confidence and resolve that Rarity didn’t think the passive mare before her was capable of that she would have convinced Professor Pedagogue to allow her to join them on their way back to New Tesaddledale, one way or another.

Again, as with Elkraps, the conversation changed and grew and came to its natural end once they had run out of things to talk about, and after polishing off their tea and the plate of biscuits, the two mares said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. When Rarity walked out of the building, a noticeable lightness could be seen in her step now that the weight of figuring out how to get back to Spiketopia had been removed from her shoulders, and the good that the casually conversing with friendly acquaintances had done for her could not be overstated. It had been a long while since Rarity had felt so relaxed and at peace. Even her misguided attempt to retrieve her horn had been reduced to a mild irritation at worst, and that and the rest of her problems like how she was to get back to Equestria would be sorted shortly after Discord was back and breathing.

Her good mood carried her throughout the rest of the day and into the next as the resolution of that complication left Rarity with a decent amount of downtime to spend however she wished. She did what she could to stay productive, but there was only so much preparing and planning that could be done at this point. Between her research into the weaknesses of magical talking cephalopods, of which there was hardly any material on at all and none of which was of any practical use to her, Rarity squeezed in some light recreational reading. Her aimless strolls through the shopping districts started anew and continued long after she had spent all the gold and silver she was comfortable parting ways with on a few potions, a couple being those familiar red ones with healing properties and the other a significantly more expensive one, transparent with flat keratinous sliver swimming inside that the apothecary swore would give the drinker incredible strength.

Rarity even allowed herself to enjoy a short play staged in a local park during the second evening. The acting was painfully amateur, and the generic plot seemed to continually shift between an overly dramatic tragic romance to a cringe inducing, ill-humored romantic comedy, but there had been some impressive implementation of magical effects like at the climax when the skies above the audience lit up with the breathtaking image of fiery meteors raining down upon the hero’s position. In the end, Rarity had to admit she had fun even if she felt that the villain’s death by two back to back self explosions had been a bit too much.

Could that hour have been better spent on furthering her preparations? Perhaps, one could argue, and Rarity would have respectfully disagree. She felt as though she had already exhausted what options she currently had at her disposal, and her attempts at drawing up plans for the assault on the Squid Wizard’s fortress had largely been like a band of unfocused and directionless travelers, going nowhere with her not even sure where to start. Talking it over with Sir Gustford and any others the two of them could find who still loyal to the royal family once she made it back to Spiketopia would most certainly accomplish far more than she could here and now alone anyways, so when she went to bed early that night, her guilt didn’t keep her up for very long.

41. Ruined Prospects

Ruined Prospects

The morning after, Rarity received a message from Elkraps reminding her of their appointment this morning with von Zarovich along with instructions to meet her at the main campus’ welcome desk. The reminder was appreciated but wholly unnecessary as Rarity in her eagerness was already dressed and ready and was just about to leave her room and set off for the campus building at the risk of being unfashionably early when the painted stone stopped her. Minutes later, she was stepping through the front doors of the cathedral and into its entry hall where she was greeted shortly after by Elkraps. They made their way through the winding corridors that led to those massive chained doors, then it was down that long spiral staircase and into the dark ringed room with all of the murals.

There, waiting for them in front of the painted depiction of the skeleton being helped by the figure of black, was von Zarovich’s foul undead servant, his rotten lips twisted into a scowl as Rarity and Elkraps stepped into the light of his lifeless eyes. “Ladies,” the creature hissed, putting a hoof on the front of his suit. “The, master is expecting you.”

“Well let’s not waste anymore of your master’s time then with theatrics ,” said Elkraps with a roll of her eyes, complete unfazed by the venomous hate each of the talking corpse’s words carried. The servant pressed against the painting behind him and walked through the passage that formed in its place, and Rarity and Elkraps followed soon after and stepped into the bleak, cold world that was the necromancy department.

As they walked along the dirt trail and fought back shivers, Rarity noted that the area was a lot less crowded than it had been the last time she was here. The heaps of stuffed, lumpy burlap bags were missing, as was the pyre that had been burning in the center of the village they first arrived in. Some shambling zombies and skeletons were still around, mostly in the fields of frozen grass pulling carts or carrying crates, and there were a few individuals dressed in dark robes around who were directing the walking bodies, but it was nowhere close to the number Rarity saw the previous day. She didn’t have time to dwell on the matter, however, as they quickly arrived at their destination, and there, standing in front of a familiar large cube structure were Dean Sergei von Zarovich and his two assistants that had been in his office days prior.

The two deans respectfully greeted each other first before von Zarovich turn to Rarity with a small smile. “Princess Shmarity,” he said, and she gave a polite nod back to him and to the two ponies at his side. Professor Hollows, the thinner of the two stallions, coughed impatiently, causing von Zarovich to sigh. He rapped a hoof on the big black block behind him and gesture to the door that formed. “Yes, I suppose we’ve all waited long enough already, and yes, I suppose we do have other, duties to take care of, so enough pleasantries. Right this way.”

All but Elkraps and the vile valet entered the dark chamber within, and they made their way past the multitude of shelves until they had at last gotten to the very back of the room. The lead necromancer motioned to the shelf before them, and at von Zarovich silent command, both Hollows and Madam Enyaba reached up and pulled out a heavy cylindrical container made out of a material reminiscent of Selune’s hidden sanctum. Silver chains were wrapped so tightly around the container that it was impossible to tell where they began or ended, but all it took was a quiet utterance and a touch of von Zarovich’s hoof to cause the links to detach from another.

The lid was removed, revealing the parchment rolled up inside. There was a brief glance shared amongst the black robed mages before von Zarovich took the scroll out of its canister and held it out to Rarity. “Here you are, Princess. As we agreed.”

The scroll exchanged hooves. The paper felt surprisingly warm to the touch, and there was a heft to the scroll that Rarity wasn’t expecting. Gingerly, she lifted it up to the light of the floating blue orbs and saw that in addition to the red ribbon tied over it, the scroll was sealed shut by red splotch of dried wax upon which the symbol from Valmeyjar’s temple, the one with a set of eyes encircled by stars, was stamped.

“And I trust you will uphold your end of the bargain.” It was a statement, not a question, that von Zarovich punctuated with a short chuckle. “Like we’ve discussed previously, we’ll take care of the acquisition. You just concern yourself with, producing and procuring, the asset.”

The reminder of what this piece of parchment costed caused Rarity to grimace and nod grimly. Regardless of whether she succeeded in taking down the Squid Wizard, there would be another body in the school of necromancy’s possession. “And you are certain it will work?” she asked, more so to change the topic and redirect her own focus. “That there won’t be any negative side effects.”

“As certain as, we can be,” answered von Zarovich. “Granted, it hasn’t been tested, but we are confident,” he added with a quick glance to his assistants who gave their supporting nods, “very confident that the spell shall and will perform exactly how we described it would, provided that, of course, you can get it to work.”

Rarity took a couple of seconds to take in what the wizard had said, and when she finished breaking it all down, his vocabulary, his phrasing, his tone, she was left with a frown and a question. “I’m sorry, what do you mean by, getting it to work?”

Hollows answered her with a snort and a scowl. “Bah. How typical of the arcane ignorant. You’re all the same, coming here thinking that magic will just make all your problems miraculously disappear. That’s not how magic works. It’s not just a mere wave of a hoof or a quick read through a tome or a scroll.” He crossed his gangly legs in front of his chest. “This treasure is squandered on the likes of her.”

“Oh hush,” Madam Enyaba interjected before Rarity could. “Even if she were to leave it with us, would or even could you use it? Don’t answer, because I already know it to be no. It’ll just be one more sad spell this school hoards away, keeping it from ever reaching its true potential.” The old mare sniffed and pointed to Rarity. “That filly there is the sole reason why we have this spell in the first place. She was resourceful enough to get it to us, who knows, maybe she’ll show you a thing or two about magic.”

Hollows sneered at his colleague. “Ha! After all these years, you’ve finally gone senile. Methinks it’s time for the great Enyaba to stand down.”

“That’s enough, both of you,” von Zarovich exclaimed, his booming voice ringing through the room. “My apologies, Princess,” he said to Rarity with a short bow. “But to explain, Professor Hollows is right in that getting the spell to work is more, complicated than simply breaking away the wax and unfurling the scroll. Even if you were to do that, I very much doubt you’d be able to read what’s inside.”

“But, can you? Read it, I mean,” Rarity clarified. “I mean, you’re the ones who prepared it, surely you would know what was written.”

A few moments passed by in an awkward silence as von Zarovich appeared to struggle with his words. He finally responded, saying, “Remember, the scrolls you brought to us were already mostly complete. They just needed some finishing touches to reach their full power, and we’ve studied enough of the, necromantic magic from the temple to do that much at least. But being able to activate the spell within?” He shook his head, and as he sighed, the ends of his reddish mustache drooped. “We are wizards. Our powers come from understanding the Weave of reality and bending it to our will.” He tapped the scroll in Rarity’s hooves. “But this sort of magic requires a comprehension and control that is, for now and the foreseeable future, still beyond us mortals.”

“Then, what am I supposed to do with this?” Rarity demanded, shaking the scroll she held. The three mages before her rushed forward with their front hooves raised out toward the old parchment as their eyes were wide with panic. She took in a breath to calm herself and carefully lowered the scroll. “A spell isn’t going to do me any good if I can’t use it.”

“Your buyer’s remorse is hardly our problem, now is it?” muttered a huffy Hollows. “You came here for a spell, and now you have it. As far as we’re concerned, our end of the bargain has been met.”

Rarity took a step forward, her stomp echoing through chamber. “Why, you swindling, fraudulent, cheating—“

The dean held up his hoof, but it was von Zarovich’s glare at Hallows that eventually calmed her down, if only slightly. “Rest assured, Princess, there has been no treachery, else why would we even bother explaining this caveat to you? And do remember that we here have so much more to gain should you succeed.” He waited for Rarity settle back before clearing his throat and continuing. “Now while, ah, admittedly none of us here can activate the scroll, that’s not to say that no one can. It just requires some, otherworldly intervention, and there certainly are individuals and organizations out there that can call upon the powers of the divine. That paladin you were with, for instance. While I doubt he himself has the spiritual capacity to cast this particular spell, his order may have some capable enough clerics. Given that you already have a connection to that stallion, might I suggest starting there?”

“He’s, already left.” Rarity said with a sad shake of her head, “and I’m afraid I have no way of contacting him.”

“Ah. How, unfortunate.” The bald stallion sighed. “Well, as I said, you still have options, it’s just a matter of, doing a little searching outside the schools. Mind you, not every priest or minister you come across will have a strong enough connection to their god to perform a miracle of this level, so you will have to be selective.”

“Or perhaps you could seek the Moonmaiden herself,” Madam Enyaba proposed. “The spell did originally stem from her power after all, she may have more to offer you.”

“Yes, there is that,” von Zarovich agreed, “though I would be suspicious of any direct help a being claiming to be a deity from a long dead pantheon would offer. The temple itself may hold clues as well.” He paused, and from his cloak he pulled out a small badge fashioned in the shape of a kite shield. Upon it was a dark star pulsing purple. “Well, Princess, I suppose that concludes our, business for the time being,” he said as he put the badge away. “We have our jobs to get back to, and I’m sure you’re plenty busy with your own matters.”

And with a final gesture to the room’s opposite end, von Zarovich led the way out of the chamber of magical secrets, and Rarity in all her seething frustration and disappointment could only store away the spell she could not use and follow him and his fellow masters of the undead.

Elkraps only had time to bring Rarity back to the ground floor of the main campus building before she had to say her goodbyes and hurry off to attend to her own work. That might have been for the best because Rarity was on the verge of releasing a long and loud rant in regards to this new development without any concern for the promise of secrecy she had made to the school of necromancy. Any appeal such an act might have had was lost when Rarity lost her audience, and she still had enough self-restrain to keep herself from raving at the strangers she passed as she made her way down the streets.

By the time the center cathedral’s entrance was no longer in view, Rarity had calmed significantly, and she could think straight now that her thoughts weren’t so clouded by anger. She was still frustrated of course, any being would be to learn that after all the work and time they had put into something, the end result wasn’t quite usable, but though her current opinion of him wasn’t quite favorable, von Zarovich was right in that she did have ways of moving forward. It would certainly mean having prolong this protracted adventure that had been forced upon her, and Rarity already really wasn’t looking forward to seeing the financial state of her business once they were all back in Equestria, but if she wanted to save Spike and Discord, what else could she do but play along?

As she walked, Rarity considered her options. Unless she wanted to spend more of her gold to contact Biala Diyn through the Fine Copper Company, getting in touch with the stallion’s order didn’t seem viable, and she didn’t want to waste time wandering the land aimless in search for a powerful enough cleric. She ran through Princess Shmarity‘s own knowledge to see if there were any established holy organizations in Spiketopia and eventually discovered that among the denominations the royal family had close ties to the leadership of a particular church who would on occasion act as advisors. Any details on the church and its teachings were, however, fuzzy, suggesting that the princess’ interests in such subjects was no more than cursory, and all that Rarity could cobble together from the borrowed memories was the title of bishop and the distinctive white robes with gold trimming and tall white hat split down the middle said bishop wore during their monthly meetings with Princess Shmarity’s father the king. Maybe Sir Gustford would know the current status and whereabouts of this Bishop Canon, if Princess Shmarity’s memory served, or if not him then perhaps the pontiff’s direct subordinates or any other members of that specific clergy. Rarity even found herself considering the rumors of Mother Shim’s ability to perform miracles, albeit only briefly before filing that and any idea which involved working with that no-good swindling sister duo as the ultimate last resort.

Rarity’s best option would therefore be to seek her needed cleric in Spiketopia where her assumed royal connections would better facilitate and direct her search. Until she returned, Rarity needed to see if the schools’s library had anything on divine magic or the religions of Spiketopia and maybe ask Bluestockings if her studies happened to cover those topics, but first and foremost was following up on Madam Enyaba’s suggestion. Both the library and Bluestockings weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, while according to von Zarovich, the temple of Valmeyjar could potentially vanish at any time. It’s current location was stable, sure, but who knew if or when that would change. If Rarity wanted to ask anything to the goddess residing within its catacombs, she had to make the visit while she still knew where the temple was, and today was as good as any other day, seeing as it was still pretty early and Rarity had nothing else planned.

With the temple already explored and its traps safely navigated, Rarity had no need to bother Athkatla Bones or any creature else, and so after making some small preparations like changing into her sturdier cloak, refilling her canteen, and picking up a light brunch bagel along the way, Rarity set off for Valmeyjar’s temple alone. From the infinite tower and through the desert hills, following the trail of colored flags until she reached the ruined chapel with the flag of purple beside it. She made her way past the fresco at the entrance and into the main worship room, then it was down the stairs, past the arch of platinum, through the room with the decorated statues and passages that led to the drawers of mummies and silver plates, down the path of moons across the tiled floor, and into the chamber with the seven stone basins atop their lofty pedestals.

Once her hooves matched the curtains on the back wall, Rarity brushed the lavender drapes aside and stepped into the hidden sanctum. It was exactly as she remembered it, with walls of sleek tourmaline sparkling with specks of platinum and the great pair of eyes staring down at her over the preserved body strapped into the gold, jewel encrusted throne.

“Excuse me,” Rarity called out. “Ms. Selune? Um, Your Holiness? Oh, how does one address an actual deity?” she muttered to herself. “Oh holy Moonmaiden, Your Worship?”

A sigh and a blinding flash of light answered her, and when Rarity finished blinking, there before her eyes was the apparition of the grand blue alicorn in her silver armor. “Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia,” the great being said with a frown, her voice reverberating as the words that Rarity could understand were layered on top of that strange song-like language. “Why have you come here? Was my gift to you, the gift of restoring life, not enough?”

The alicorn spoke sternly, but whether she was genuinely angered by this disturbance or simply making a statement of fact was something Rarity couldn’t say for certain. She forced down a gulp as she considered her response carefully. The last thing she wanted was to further upset the alicorn in front of her and deal with an irate goddess.

“No, no, the spell was, is perfect,” Rarity assured. She quickly dropped into a low bow, nearly brushing her snout against the shiny floor. “I just, wished to thank you personally for showing me, a lowly and unworthy mortal, such incredible generosity.”

The air around her became deathly still as the silence permeating the room grew increasingly heavy. Unable to bear the discomforting silent stillness any longer, Rarity dared lift her head for a quick peek and saw that the alicorn could not have looked any less amused.

“I will ask you again, Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia,” the Moonmaiden said, dropping the temperature of the room with the cool impatience in her voice, “why are you here?”

Rarity held back a nervous sigh while she reconsidered her approach. Perhaps something more direct would be better appreciated. “I need help,” she said as she slowly, cautiously stood back up. The alicorn didn’t reply but neither did she appear more agitated nor did she keep her from rising, so Rarity continued. “The spell you gave me, it is exactly what I need, but I can’t use it. I was told that the magic involved in your spell was divine magic which is somehow different from regular magic that every creature else here uses and that in order to activate the spell I would need to find someone that has that divine connection. Er, at least, that is how I’ve come to understand the situation.”

“I see.”

“Ah yes, well, I was wondering, hoping really, if you had anything helpful that you’d be willing to share with me. Perhaps where I could find these adequately divine individuals? Or maybe a way to bypass this little prerequisite?” Rarity presented. “Or, I don’t suppose, and I don’t mean to presume, you and I could form that magic bond so then I could just activate the scroll myself?”

“If you are suggesting a pact between us, I have no qualms with such an arrangement,” the Moonmaiden said with the slightest of smiles that quickly turned back into a thoughtful frown. “However, while I would be able to lend you some of my powers, it would be nowhere near what is necessary to perform that spell you hold.” As she spoke, the alicorn gestured to the side pack of Rarity’s saddlebags. “Even if you were to devote yourself completely to me, I am afraid it would be many long years before you could even think of reliably activating the dormant magic within the scroll.

“As for those who would be able to act as an intermediary between you and the spell’s divine nature...” The alicorn shut her eyes and raised her horned head up toward the ceiling. Her form started to shimmer as she stretched out her wings to the ends of the chamber. Intense light flooded out from her eyes when she opened them, but as time went on, they and her shining frame slowly dimmed. She looked down to Rarity and frowned.

“It is as I feared. My influence upon this world has grown too weak, and what few clerics I do have can barely cure the lightest wounds or bestow the simplest of blessings. They would not be of any use to you. What’s more, I am unable to locate any hint of my essence amongst the mortals.” The breath she released caused the whole room to shake, and the deep distress it carried was unmistakable. “Had there been any being out there with even an ounce of Valmeyjar’s blood coursing through their veins, they would most surely would have had the potential divinity required for your spell. How unfortunate it is then that her line is indeed finished.” Selune glanced over to the mummified mare in the throne and shook her head sadly. “I was well aware that her direct descendants had passed when activities in her temple finally ceased, but still, I thought there might be at least one survivor still of this world.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Rarity bit down on her lower lip. She wasn’t sure what made it more difficult and awkward, the fact that she was attempting to comfort a deity or that she was trying to show sympathy to someone who just discovered their entire lineage had died out. “Er, I’m sorry, would you like a moment to yourself?”

This time, the alicorn’s smile stayed. “A kind gesture but wholly unnecessary. It is natural for all things to come to their end, and even the reign of gods is no exception, and I have no right to mourn the existence of those I had never bothering knowing.” The feathers of her wings appeared to ruffle as she shrugged. “But back to the matter before us,” she said, again pointing to the bags Rarity was wearing. “The spell in question may have originated from my power, but any being with sufficient divine ties, regardless to whom or what, would be able to use it so long as they can sway their deity of choice to intervene.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find these sufficiently divine individuals, would you?” Rarity asked, and despite her doing her best to temper her expectations, seeing the alicorn’s head shake no still hit her with an enormous wave of disappointment.

“That I cannot say for sure,” she answered. “Given time, perhaps a few nights, I might be able to provide you with a direction and possibly something more concrete, but beyond that, there is not much else I can offer you that is outside the walls of this place. Within this sanctuary, however, you will be under my protection and power.” The alicorn extended her less than corporal wings laid them upon Rarity’s shoulders. The touch was lighter than air yet still somehow left a cool, comforting feeling, like an evening breeze following a hot summer day. “And you are welcome to anything that you can find here and are able to retrieve. There is little more damage and desecration you can do to my temple that time hasn’t already done, but I trust that you will show respect to those who are—“

There was a noticeable pause as the Moonmaiden suddenly stiffened and looked up from Rarity. “Buried here,” she eventually finished, and an odd, unsure, and almost confused expression came over on her features. Eyes narrowing, the alicorn returned her gaze back to Rarity. “Did you bring anyone here with you?”

“No. I came alone,” Rarity answered. The unease the alicorn displayed was swiftly becoming her own. “Why? Is something wrong?”

The alicorn turned to the curtains behind Rarity. “There are others here in the temple.”

42. Old Enemies Arise

Old Enemies Arise

Selune started to scowl as she stared the chamber’s entrance with her eyes aglow. “I might not have noticed their presence had it not been for the horrible disturbance they are now making.“

Rarity tried to come up with who these others could be. Athkatla perhaps, she knew of the temple’s location after all, but from Rarity’s short time with her, the adventuring archeologist seemed too careful and prepared to be a cause of a sudden disturbance. If she had to be honest, that sounded a bit more characteristic of the school of necromancy, but Rarity was under the impression that the barrier blocking their undead servants left them largely unenthused, hence having to send her here in the first place in their stead. Maybe studying the spell Rarity retrieved had generated enough interest for the school to move past this obstacle, but the timing of this potential expedition was peculiar, her meeting with Dean von Zarovich having been only a couple of hours ago at most.

“Who are they?” Rarity asked, her own list of potential suspects exhausted.

“Their identities elude me, and I do not recognize their affiliation, but I sense a great malevolence, a corruption that is deeply rooted in their hearts. I can see that theirs is a lot of ill intentions.” The look the alicorn had on was a grim one. “They darken the halls with whatever vile purpose they have for being here, and they draw ever nearer.”

At this, Rarity’s hoof instinctively went to the hilt of her dagger, but she stopped short of drawing and readying the blade. “Are they hostile?” she asked, hoping that there would be no need for it.

“Most certainly so,” answered the alicorn above her with a conviction that dashed any hope of there being a perfectly peaceful encounter. “But do not be afraid for as long as you are here with me, you shall be safe.”

Slowly, Rarity loosened her grip on her weapon as she took comfort in Selune’s declaration. The alicorn hadn’t exactly done anything to inspire confidence in her promise of protection, and if anything the last few minutes the two of them had shared was an embarrassing display of her incompetency as a goddess, but there was something about the her presence that had a soothing effect on Rarity. It might have had to do with how similar her appearance was to Princess Luna’s, or perhaps it was because of the immense size of the deity’s form, but whatever the reason, being within her vicinity had caused Rarity to calm down despite the unsavory characters prowling about right outside.

As time passed, however, Rarity grew restless from the waiting. The constant hum coming from the alicorn’s projection lost its subtlety and had crept onto Rarity’s nerves while her eyes eventually tired of the color black. Her patience was quickly thinning, and she started to wonder if this passive waiting for the problematic individuals to finish whatever they were doing and leave was truly the best plan available to her.

“Are they still here?” It was a question Rarity had since lost count of how many times she had asked.

“Yes,” the alicorn answered, the same answer she had given every other time. Then, after a brief pause, she added, “They are now on the other side of this portal,” and pointed to the lavender curtains in front of them.

“Oh.” Rarity again reached for her dagger and looked to the alicorn for additional guidance. Selune remained silent, and her expression was blank and unreadable as she continued to stare at the curtains ahead. Was that a good sign, this lack of emotion? Rarity’s dagger left its sheath, just to be prepared, and with her breath bated, she turned to watch the entrance as well.

The next few minutes went by without anything happening. The room stayed quiet and still, the curtains they were so fixated on didn’t even stir. Another minute passed, and Rarity lowered her guard to the point where she could resume her normal breathing. Then, just as she was opening her mouth to request another update, Rarity heard a soft crackle. The purple drapes started to sway, and as they did so, they revealed the cracks forming in the wall behind them. Bright light streamed through the growing fissures, and the entire chamber seemed to shake. Something suddenly grabbed hold of Rarity and pulled her to the back of the room, and through the alicorn’s outstretched wings she watched the fracturing wall burst open with a deafening boom and make way for a great ball of fire.

There was neither time nor room to dodge the explosion. Desperately, Rarity threw herself to the floor and flung her forelegs over her head. Some small bits of debris bounced harmlessly against her body, and a fine blanket of dust covered over her, tickling the very tip of her nose and inciting a sneeze, but the incoming flames and the accompanying painful burning she had been bracing for were absent. Rarity opened her eyes and slowly raised her head to see Selune standing over her.

“Careful!” she heard some creature exclaim in a gruff, scratchy voice. “Master wants pony princess alive!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome, by the way,” answered a second voice, one that was far more pronounced and feminine and with a youthful carelessness. The smoke soon settled, and through the massive hole step in a mare in dark hooded robes and a silver mask over her mouth and nose that was in the shape of a snarling dragon’s snout. Beside her stood a hulking diamond dog in a shirt of chain mail covered in scorch marks and an old metal helmet on his head that looked as though it had been partially melted. More joined them, including a couple of additional diamond dogs in low quality armor, a smaller diamond dog wearing a light protective vest and a thick skullcap, an axe wielding skeleton that still had a full mane and tail of light lavender hair and a bright pink bandanna around its neck bone, its eye holes lit by pins of green glow, and finally a stallion built to be a workhorse, with toned muscles on his back, shoulders, and neck that were visible even through his tunic and protective barding. His eyes, which were sunken and ringed with shadows, fell onto Rarity after some searching and narrowed.

“There she is,” the stallion growled, jabbing a hoof at her prone position. Two of the armored diamond dogs started forward at the stallion’s statement, but down from on high came beams of light that shone upon the two large canines, and they froze in place.

”Foolish, unworthy mortals!” The voice of an angered Selune filled the area. The blend of languages became unbalanced as the Celestial echo swelled, giving the spoken words a frightening effect. The alicorn’s form grew to the full height of the room, and she suddenly ignited in brilliant blue flames. To Rarity’s side, a similar aura could be seen coming from mummy in the golden seat, and the eyes on that platinum replica of Selune’s face were emitting a bright blue glow. ”Thou dareth trespass on these holy grounds? Thou dareth stand in the glory of the Moonmaiden so blazenly and with an anathema to life itself in thy company?” Her glare fell upon the animated skeleton. ”Turn back now, while thy breaths are still thine to take!”

One of the dogs caught in the light managed to shake himself free and scrambled back to the exit only to find the way blocked by his comrades. The last diamond dog in chain mail left pointed a spear at his cowardly fellow. “Master said to get pony princess,” he growled, pointing the point of his spear at Rarity. “You disobeying master?”

The diamond dog sputtered for a
moment before he spun right around and charged right back toward Rarity who at this time had picked up both herself and her blade. She readied her stance, her heart thundering against her chest as the rest of the intruders started toward her, but before they even got halfway through the chamber, pillars of blazing white radiance swirled down on the first encroaching line. A series of screams and howls were let out and quickly cut short, and when the inferno faded, two of the larger diamond dogs along with the smaller one had vanished, and in their place were piles of ash and a few distorted metal rings.

The others, while all still in one piece, did not escape the conflagration completely unscathed. With hot steam hissing off their burns, the last of the creatures stumbled back, Rarity all but forgotten as their attention was now solely on the massive fiery alicorn towering over them. ”Do not try my patience further,” Selune commanded, her words causing the walls and floors to shake. ”This is thine final chance, leave this place at once, or face the same fate as thine companions.”

The group looked to each with a mix of anger, frustration, and worry. The mare with the dragon mask sighed, and holding her hooves up in surrender, she took a step back. Ignoring the glares coming from her allies, the mare made it to the entrance safely where she stuck a hoof into her cloak and produced a wand. “Dracoingnis!” she shouted with a wave of the wand, and from its tip came forth a streak of light that rocketed toward the throne.

A second explosion rocked the room and sent Rarity flying. She crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, and for a second her body was left almost entirely numb. The second that immediately followed however was complete and utter agony as the pain from the impact and the fire seized her, causing her to cry out and roll herself into a tight ball. Something slid along the floor and knocked against Rarity’s foreleg, which forced her into opening her eyes.

It was the platinum mask, its features now warped and beyond recognition, covered in the dust that the body it had been attached to had just been reduced to. Through tears and with her breath labored and a painful struggle, Rarity watched as the projection of Selune started to shrink. Her light flashed and dimmed, and slowly, as the alicorn shot Rarity one last, regretful glance, her form faded away, and all Rarity could do was reach out weakly and cough.

“No! What I tell you? Master—“

“Yeah, yeah, the Squizard needs Princess Shmarity alive,” Rarity heard the mare in the dark cloak say all nonchalantly, the mask covering her mouth giving her words an unsettling echo. “Look, see? She’s still breathing.”

A shadow fell over her. “Barely,” someone, it sounded like the sullen stallion if Rarity had to guess, said with an almost disappointed sniff. She heard movement and could now feel the creature’s hot breath against her blistering burns as they squatted over her. “Serves you right,” he whispered, his voice quivering with an unexpected hatred. “Making us come all the way here, getting me involved. I hope you’re really happy with yourself.”

“Help princess up,” the gruff voice belonging to the diamond dog commanded. “We leave now.”

“Hold on now.” There was the tapping of hooves, and the hem of the dark cloak came into Rarity’s view. The mare bent over, picked up the mask, and wiped it against the edge of her sleeve to remove the last trances of the its former owner. “Why the rush when there’s still so many goodies left to take? Be a waste not to chisel out some of that gold and platinum. And besides.” Rarity could hear the mare smirk even if her face wasn’t visible. “I don’t think Her Highness is going to be leaving us anytime soon.”

“No! No time for shinies. Just princess. Leave now!”

“Oh come now, don’t act like you aren’t tempted. I saw how you and your pals eyed those statues back there. Your master can wait a little longer.”

The two continued to bicker back and forth as Rarity felt something grab hold of her shoulders and none to gently. “Get up,” she heard the large stallion growl, and when she took too long to rise, his grip tightened and he forcefully pulled her up onto her feet. That’s when Rarity’s dagger, still clutched within her hoof’s hold, flashed forward and slashed across the stallion’s gaunt face. His screams interrupted his companions’s ongoing argument as he let Rarity go and held his face.

“You!” The stallion grabbed wildly at Rarity with a hoof as with the other he continued to grasp at his wound. Thinking quickly, Rarity pushed him back and stumbled out of his reach. The stallion swiped at her again, but Rarity ducked around the now empty chair of opulence and pulled out a red vial from her cloak. With a bit of effort, she snapped off the stopper and gulped down the red liquid, and as the pain faded and strength returned to her limbs, Rarity readjusted her grip around her weapon.

“I’ll get you for this!” the stallion hollered. There was now a red line running vertically across one of his eyes and down along his cheek. He struggled with his own weapon for a moment before throwing the scabbard off his short sword in frustration, sending it clattering loudly on the ground. He swung but only succeeded in striking gold as Rarity again hid behind the partially melted throne.

“Dang it,” he grunted, fighting to free the blade from the semi-molten metal. “Dang it all! This is all your fault!” Seeing that the task was futile, the stallion gave up on the sword and left it stuck in place. He pulled a dagger of his own and stalked around Rarity’s cover while Rarity in turn circled around to keep the throne between herself and him. “If you hadn’t shown up and gotten the village involved,” he snarled, his hurt eye swelling and turning red, “if they had all just listened to me, we should’ve just captured you and given you up when we had the chance!”

“Village?” A look of recognition flashed over Rarity’s face as she stared at her enraged assailant’s own, his tired, thin features a poor match to his burly body and impressive build. “Wait, you’re—“

Muscular, fuzzy, pungent arms suddenly wrapped around her, and before Rarity could react, she was lifted high off the ground. Her dagger slipped out of her grasp and out of her reach, and as she kicked and screamed and wiggled with all her light, the snare tightened its hold on her. Rarity gasped as what belligerence she still had was painfully squeezed out of her.

“No more,” the diamond dog huffed into her ear, causing her to nearly gag from his foul breath, before he turned to the approaching stallion who still had his dagger out and pointed at her. “Put that away,” he ordered. “Get chains. Tie princess up. Then, no more fight.”

The stallion grumbled and muttered curses through gnashed teeth, but he stuffed his dagger back into his shirt and walked over to the side to rummage through his pack. “And you!” the diamond dog growled, turning both himself and Rarity to the hooded mare. “Master put Duke in charge. Then Duke bought it, so Max in charge. Max gone too, so now me in charge. Me!” To emphasizes, he stomped his foot hard on the last word, a motion which jostled Rarity and sent her shaking in her captor’s meaty arms. “Me in charge, so ponies listen to me, and me say leave now! So magic pony be quiet and hurry and get teleport scroll ready or else!”

There was no retort from the mare in the silver mask, but neither did she move to obey. The dog in charge growled, and with Rarity still tightly bound in his arms he took a clumsy step toward her. “Me said—“

The mare shuddered, and as she pitched forward, her hood slipped off, revealing a head of short, spiked saffron hair and a pair of Xs over her eyes. An axe head was buried deep in the back of her head, and standing over the latest lifeless body was the axe’s owner, the hollow holes that served as their eyes now emitting a bright blue light instead of the previous sickly green.

“What the, hey!” The stallion jumped up and looked to the diamond dog. “What the heck going on here?” His eyes narrowed as he tossed away his pack and brandish his knife. “Did you make that, thing do that?” he demanded.

“What? No! Me no control bones. Bones is under master’s control. Master must have, hey!”

The canine’s grip had loosened from the shock of the skeleton’s apparent betrayal, and Rarity seized the chance to slip out of his arms and dropped to the ground. She quickly found her dagger and swung it at the diamond dog’s unarmored shin. It wasn’t much of a strike, and the curved blade didn’t get very far, but it gave Rarity time to stand up and create some space between her and the diamond dog as the thug yelled out, more out of surprise than of pain really, and reach down to where Rarity had cut him.

She dashed over to the exit, but the stallion was faster and caught her by the end of her cloak as she was passing by. “End of the line, you royal pain in the rear,” he said lowly, pulling her close. He grabbed Rarity’s foreleg and twisted it painfully until she cried out and released the weapon she had just retrieved. “Now you’re going to be a good little prisoner, you’re going to stay in whatever cell or tower they have in store for you, and you’re going to let the rest of us. Live. In. Peace.”

“You, you’re from Elder Woods’s village, aren’t you,” Rarity gasped, blinking back tears. “It’s, Rowdy, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so the great Princess Shmarity remembers my name.” Rowdy let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Guess I should be flattered, huh?”

“Why are you doing this? Is this what you really want, to be working under that vile tentacled tyrant?”

Rowdy scoffed. “It’s the best I can get. They showed up to our village a few days after you came and went, and now there’s nothing left of it.“

Rarity froze as her blood turned to ice, and for a split second, she was back in Farm Right’s cottage, sitting at the kitchenette table with a bowl of Hearth Stead’s stew in front of her and young Harvest at her side chatting away. “The village, is gone?”

“Yeah, because of you. Now I’ve got nothing else to lose.” There was another round of forced chuckles that were lacking in any humor.

“I’m sorry, Rowdy, truly,” Rarity said, her voice soft and tone gentle, “but this isn’t the right way, and you know it just as well as I do. You don’t have to do this. Please, let me go. I can save the heroes, bring them back, and with them we can put an end to the Squid Wizard’s reign of terror. Isn’t that all you want, to live in peace and without fear?”

The stallion’s whole body tensed as he hesitated, and Rarity caught the glint of regret that flickered across his face. It seemed as though her words were starting to reach Rowdy, but he shook his head furiously, and when he turned back to face her, any hint of doubt Rarity might have spotted was replaced with anger. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he hissed right into her face. “Well you can’t trick me. You couldn’t the night you first arrived and you won’t now. So make it easier on yourself and on me and shut up. Got it?”

Rarity sighed and lowered her head. She drew in a deep breath to steel herself then smash the top of her forehead right into the stallion’s soft, vulnerable nose. Not the most elegant maneuver, perhaps, but the situation called for a less than ladylike approach, and with Rowdy relinquishing his hold over her foreleg, Rarity couldn’t argue with the results, even if it did leave her forehead slightly sore. She extended out her hooves into one last shove and sent the stallion staggering back into a great geyser of flames that suddenly erupted, and Rarity could only watch in wide-eyed horror as Rowdy’s silhouette writhed and twisted within the inferno along with a second contorting shadow. Their screams filled the air for a good couple of seconds before tapering off and becoming silent.

The flames vanished, and out stumbled the charred, barely recognizable bodies of Rowdy and the large diamond dog before both collapsed and crumpled before Rarity’s eyes. The skeleton stood directly behind them with a bony foreleg held up menacingly, its lavender mane flowing almost fluidly in some nonexistent breeze. It turned its glowing eye holes toward Rarity as it lowered its bleached white hoof and took a step forward, to which Rarity answered by taking a nervous step back. Its skull tilted slightly to one side, and it tried taking another step only to freeze mid motion as its entire body started to shake and rattle violently then fall apart. The walking equine anatomy lesson dropped like a puppet whose strings had just been snipped, and various sorts of bones were strewn throughout the room with a noisy crash.

The head rolled over to Rarity, the lights of its eyes continuing to stare up at her as she jumped back to avoid it. The lights followed her every step, her every motion, but the rest of the skeleton remained inert. Still, it took several seconds to pass in peace before Rarity could allow herself to drop her guard and retrieve her dagger. She could still feel the skull’s gaze upon her as she slid the blade into its sheath and put it back in her cloak’s inner pocket, but by now her curiosity was beginning to rival her uneasiness. Astonishing though it was to say and more difficult yet to even believe, the skeleton had saved her from its former allies, though why it did so and how it had produced those flames were a mystery that Rarity had no clue how to approach. And then there was that odd effect on its hair, the way the mane moved that was strangely familiar.

Rarity wasn’t completely sure why she brought her hoof to the skull, maybe her curiosity had simply driven her to get a closer look, maybe she was planning on bringing it to the school of necromancy so that they could better explain the whys and the hows, maybe there was just something compelling her to do so, but the moment she brushed against bone, the mane waved wildly like flickering flames caught by a powerful wind. It started to glow with the same light streaming from its eye sockets, and Rarity watched as it grew and began to form shapes, simple and poorly defined ones at first like messy globes and the like, but eventually, the outline of a mare became discernible. Details and even differing shades of color were gradually added in until at last the form of a familiar alicorn had returned to the secret sanctum, her eyes shining with the same light that had been coming from the skull’s.

“Selune?” Rarity said, pulling her hoof back. “Is that, you?”

The Moonmaiden glanced around the messy room before turning back to Rarity and nodding. “That it is, Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia.” Her voice, though it continued to reverberate with the mix of two languages being spoken in parallel, was no longer loud enough to shake the chamber walls, though Rarity suppose it made sense considering how much smaller her current form was compared to her last one. Right now, the alicorn wasn’t much larger than the average mare such as herself.

“So, um, ah.” Rarity cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I had some water?”

“Do what you must.”

“Thank you.” Rarity brought out her canteen. All that excitement really did leave her throat parched, but if she had to be honest, she really just needed something else to focus on other than the silly sight of the diminished alicorn sprouting out of a skull like some sort of decorative shrubbery being grown in a seasonal Nightmare Night novelty pot. After taking a few sips, she had restored her composure and could look to Selune with the same respect her previous form had unquestionably commanded.

“So,” Rarity began with one last quick appraisal of the alicorn before her, “I’m glad to see that you’re, as far as I can tell, no worse for wear, though it would be nice to know what exactly happened and how we ended up, well, here.” She motioned first to Selune then to the skull her form was attached to then finally, with a wide sweeping wave, to the rest of the chamber with its newest additions.

“Your confusion is understandable. I myself was uncertain as to how I was able to remain on the material plane, for it was by keeping the piece of my spirit Valmeyjar had been gifted with tethered to her body that her followers were able to maintain this direct channel to me.” Selune turned her gaze to the disfigured mask of platinum that laid beside the unmoving mare with the axe stuck in her head. “When the remains of Valmeyjar were destroyed, my ties to this world should have been severed, and this spirit should have returned to its whole. That is, unless, under the right circumstances, there was another nearby to whom I could attach myself, another being of the same blood and inheritance of Valmeyjar and with the potential to house my essence.”

The ailcorn stared down at the skull right below her, and it didn’t Rarity long to catch the implication. “Then that would mean that this skeleton, once belonged to a descendant of yours,” she said, quickly connecting the dots.

“Indeed.” The image of Selune shimmered, and for a brief second she lost her form, but it shortly returned before Rarity could begin to feel concern. “It is extraordinarily puzzling that I am able bind myself to an undead being such as this even if we were to consider the connection we may have shared, but that connection would explain how it managed to get past the protective wards that guard the catacomb’s entrance.” Her tone turned sour with contempt. “This Squid Wizard, the one who sent these fools after you, I know not if he knew of this mare’s significance and had her reanimated intentionally for this very purpose or if this was simply happenstance, but the fact that one of mine has been forced to become his abhorrent servant of darkness is a most troubling matter. My only solace is that this mare’s soul had departed for a better place long before her body was desecrated in this fashion.”

Her words shook from the storm of anger, sorrow, and a hint of disappointment that was in her speech, and for the next few moments, Rarity stayed respectfully silent as she looked down at the skull and let her gaze wander to the room’s newly opened exit. After some time, Selune sighed. “I see that you wish to ask me of something,” she said to Rarity.

“Ah. Well, yes, but I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were still processing this new development and not before apologizing.” Rarity bowed her head. “I can’t help but feel partially responsible for all this destruction. If it weren’t for my being here, none of this would have happened.”

“I cannot disagree with your assessment,” the ailcorn began, the irritation in her intonation speaking far greater volumes volumes than the words themselves, “but I do not hold you at all responsible for what has happened here. I am the one who offered you sanctuary, it would not be very becoming of me to put you in the same camp as those you seek sanctuary from. But it was not forgiveness you desired to ask of me, was it?”

“Well no, not quite. Earlier, before we were attacked, I believe you mentioned something suggesting that your powers were largely limited to this room, no?”

“That is correct.”

“And you also said that you were bound to the body of your, granddaughter was it?” Rarity let the alicorn nod in answer before continuing. “But now that you’re bound to, um, her,” she said with a gesturing to the skull, “what would happen to you if I were to remove her from this room?”

The blue lights winked out for a short bit as the form of Selune slowly blinked. The silence stretch on for a few seconds too long, leaving Rarity worried and wondering whether if something wrong had just occurred to the goddess. “I suppose that,” she finally declared before Rarity’s panic had gotten too severe, “as my spirit is now attached to her, I would be forced to come with.”

“And what of your magic? Would you still be able to use your power once you are outside like you had here?”

Again, Selune hesitated. “I, believe I should be able to, to a degree. Because the connection between myself and this mare is far weaker than the ties I had shared with Valmeyjar, my capacity for magic will be greatly reduced, hence this body’s loss of function following that final strike of radiance I had called down.” There was a pause before Selune turned and looked directly to Rarity who had to squint as the lights shined directly into her eyes. “I see now,” she said, her voice calm, steady, and betraying of nothing. “You wish to bring me along so that I may assist you in this quest of yours.”

“Only if you would allow me to, of course,” Rarity hurriedly assured. “I’m not so presumptuous that I‘d take you away from here against your will in order to impose more of my own problems onto you. But yes, I would be most grateful if it were you there personally to revive my friends and maybe even help us see that the vile villain who did all this is properly punished. Um, that is something you can still do, yes? Bringing a creature back to life?”

“As I am now, not on my own. Attempting such a feat while I am like this would undoubtedly fail and destroy what is left of this body along with any last ties I would have to the material plane. The activation of the spell scroll I provided you, however,” she added just as Rarity’s disappointment started to settle in, “would be no issue.”

“And, is that something you’d be inclined to do?”

Once more, the silence that ruled the room tested just how far Rarity’s nerves could be bent before snapping, and her inability to read the features of Selune’s new form and get even the smallest hint to the alicorn’s thoughts fueled her frustration and stress. “I have reached my decision,” Selune announced, but though the silence was finally broken, Rarity only grew more anxious with anticipation. “While I may now have a vested interest in your success, we gods do not directly intervene in the business of mortals unless under extraordinary circumstances. Considering all that has transpired here, I believe such circumstances have been met.”

Rarity would have let out a huge breath of relief at this had Selune given her the chance to do so. “Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia,” the alicorn immediately continued, “I find your arrangement agreeable and will personally see to it that your companions are brought back to life so that this blasphemous Squid Wizard is thoroughly and utterly vanquished from this world. This I swear to you, so long as you remain true to this goal and will not try to abuse the power I am lending you for any other purpose.”

Rarity nodded then bowed. “Thank you, Lady Selune. I truly can’t thank you enough for this, and I promise, I have no other intentions for you other than getting my friends back.”

“What I have already seen in your heart drives me to believe you. I only hope that your intentions do not change.” The form of Selune vanished, and the light returned to the eyes of the skull. “As for thanking me,” the alicorn’s voice continued, “see to it that evil is banished from your lands and that good flourishes, and I will be satisfied.”

As the last word finished ringing out, the blue light dimmed but did not go out completely, and Rarity noticed that the skull itself was emitting a faint glow and was very warm to the touch when she, after getting over her reluctance in touching the morbid thing, went to pick it up and carefully put the deity into her pack.

The irony was not lost upon her as she took the time to search the remains of her fallen hunters and displayed far less squeamishness in the act. The flames that had left the bodies of the diamond dog and Rowdy scorched didn’t spare much of worth outside a few still usable coins of copper, silver, and a single gold piece between the both of them. Rarity had significantly more luck rummaging through the cloak of the mare, where she found a much fuller, heavier wallet, her magic wand, a small sack of various gemstones, and a book, possibly a personal journal based on how small it was, that had three rolls of parchment sticking out from between the pages. She briefly thought of removing the mask of silver, but as a show of respect that the mare probably would not have bothered extending to her, Rarity ultimately decided to leave it be.

That was as much respect as Rarity could afford at the moment, and the corpses that were intact were dragged out of the sanctum and pushed unceremoniously against the wall between the jars and urns. Then, once she finished placing the platinum depiction of Selune’s features back on the gold throne and confirming the alicorn’s presence after crossing the inner chamber’s threshold, Rarity started her way back though the temple catacombs, past the swath of destruction and vandalism the intruders had left in their wake.

44. Spinning on the Edge

Spinning on the Edge

Once more, Rarity found herself in Elkraps Thigliwt’s office. The school of evocation’s dean herself sat right across from her, staring at the scroll that was on her desk. Elkraps’s hooves tapped together as she regarded the scroll with a frown. The pearl and feather were out and had been pushed to the side of the desk, next to a pair of matching teacups and a pot, now that the ritual they were a part of had finished.

“Well?” Rarity finally interjected into the silence.

“Hm? Oh, right.” Elkraps sat up and cleared her throat. “Well, that confirms that. It’s a scroll of teleportation that’s linked to a specific teleportation circle, just like you said, Princess. I can’t pinpoint the exactly location, best I can say is that it is in the direction of Spiketopia, and it certainly feels far enough to be in your country. Are you sure it’s in the fortress of this Squid Wizard?”

“Oh yes.” Rarity’s head turned slightly to look down at her saddlebags. “Very sure.”

Elkraps raised an eyebrow. “And you said you want to use this to bring yourself right to the Squid Wizard’s fortress, was that right?”

Rarity nodded. “In all likelihood, that will be where they are keeping Sp-, I mean, Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz’s bodies. Is activating the scroll’s magic something you can do?”

“Well, yes. We can get the scroll to work pretty easily, but, are you sure this is really such a good idea?” Elkraps asked. Her expression was one of concern and worry, the same kind of look Twilight would give Rarity whenever the seamstress had taken a dress order that might have been a tad too much for her to handle. “I understand wanting to revive your friends, and if it weren’t for my responsibilities here, the two of us would already be burning our way through that fortress, but putting yourself right where the Squid Wizard wants you like this is just reckless. His fortress might be where the remains of your friends are, but it’s also likely where the Squid Wizard is most powerful and where a majority of his forces, which, and I shouldn’t have to remind you of all ponies of this, helped him conquer a large portion of a kingdom, are probably gathered. And you want to try to take them all on by yourself?” Elkraps’s frown turned to a grimace as she rubbed the side of her neck. “Are you sure you thought this through?”

“Well, for starters, I’m not planning on taking on the Squid Wizard or his lackeys.” Rarity reached into her saddlebags, and after some searching, she pulled out what appeared to be a small, empty vial and placed it on the desk before her. With a gesture, she permitted Elkraps to examine the vacant vial more closely and watched with some satisfaction as the mage blinked and her eyes widened slightly.

“Wait, isn’t this a—“

“A potion of invisibility? Yes, yes it is.”

Acquiring that particular little vial had not been an easy task. It was a rare brew, and the first few shops Rarity visit, including the store where she had initially learned of the potion and its potent properties, had none in stock. The places that did have such potions for sale were selling them at exorbitant prices that would have left Rarity with precious little gold for anything else.

Still she pressed on, running all around town from shop to shop in hopes of finding a better deal, and eventually her persistence paid off. At the very last store Rarity stopped by, she was greeted by one of the young attendants, all who were busy either assisting customers or working on the inventory. Her attendant had been very tall mare, tall enough to make Rarity feel like a filly in comparison, and over her mane and neck she wore a silk headscarf in addition to the green apron that all the store’s employees were wearing. The mare spoke with a slight accent that Rarity had heard somewhere before, and her appearance, from her attire to her stature to her visage and the evident tiredness in her features, felt familiar, but it took a few extra moments before either Rarity or the attendant recognized the other.

“You’re—“

“Wait, are you not—“ The mare struggled for a bit before she clapped her hooves together in victory, and her small, salespony smile grew into a genuine one. “It is Madam Rarity, is it not?”

“Yes. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re Alharir and Tariq’s daughter, Aibnatu.” Rarity matched the young mare’s grin as the child of her former travel companions nodded. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“Well, I suppose,” Aibnatu had said as she lead the way further inside. The way this particular store had been organized reminded Rarity of a jewelry shop, with neat rows of display cases in the center of the building. Their contents largely consisted of accessories like rings and necklaces and circlets, but Rarity also spotted some folded pieces of clothing among the amulets and brooches, and against one wall there was an entire rack of various bladed weapons.

“Ah, have you, by any chance, heard from my mother or father lately?”

“I can’t say that I have,” was Rarity’s answer, which brought about a look of disappointment from Aibnatu. “Should I have?“

“Oh no, no. It is nothing, really. I just, well.” Her smile wavered and nearly turned to a frown. “You no doubt know as well as I do that the journey through the Anauhock Desert can be a perilous one, and it would do me a good deal of relief to know that my parents made it out safely. Of course, I do admit expecting them to contact me so soon is pretty unrealistic.” She chuckled lightly. “After spending so much time here at the schools, I sometimes forget just how inconvenient not having access to magic so readily can be.”

“Couldn’t you reach out to them?” Rarity had asked, thinking of the Fine Copper Company.

“Well certainly, if I could afford to.” Aibnatu sighed. “As a simple apprentice, I do not get much of a stipend. I normally keep in touch with my family through a relatively inexpensive monthly service, but I have spent the use for this month already. That is why I have taken this job, to raise the funds needed to pay for a sending. And speaking of work.” She shook her head and stopped, and Rarity saw that Aibnatu had put the forced smile back on. “My apologies, Madam. You are our customer, and I have done nothing but ail you with my own personal problems. Please, how can I of the Third Electrum Emporium be of assistance?”

Rarity, caught up in their brief conversation, had needed a short second to remind herself of her purpose for being here. “Does this store happen to sell potions?”

“We do,” Abinatu said with a nod. “While we are primarily a store for magical equipment, we do have a large and varied selection of potions. If you would follow me this way, please.”

As they made their way around some of the displays, Rarity saw more examples of the shop’s wares, including a number of small golden rings, the kind that were traditionally exchanged in weddings involving unicorns. “Did you make any of these?” she asked, pointing at the little circles as she recalled the light producing one that Aibnatu had shown her some days ago.

The taller, younger mare stifled a laugh and did her best to hide her blush. “I am afraid I have a long way to go before I can make anything that would be worth selling here or anywhere really. It certainly would be nice if there was someone out there willing to buy my current projects.” Aibnatu let out another sigh. “Heavens know I could use the extra gold.”

“Hm. Well actually, I do know of a place that will buy used magic items, and I believe the shopkeeper had mentioned something about being supplied by apprentices. Perhaps you might want to try there.” Rarity gave a description of the pawn shop she had first gone to that day along with some directions as the store had no name and couldn’t be found easily on any of the town maps. “I’ll admit that it is a little out of the way, and it might not be the most, accredited establishment, and there will be an appraisal fee, but if you’re looking to sell, it might still be worth checking out.”

Rarity watched as Aibnatu’s eyes brightened at the suggestion, but the younger mare cleared her throat and quickly returned herself to a more professional, less excited level. “That sounds, I mean, I will have to go and see this store for myself when I get the chance, but for now, let us focus on our current business.” They came to a stop before a set of cabinets, and through the glass panel several little bottles of different shapes, sizes, and with varying colored content could be spotted upon the shelves. A good number were of the same red shade as the healing potions Rarity had grown familiar with, though some were in larger containers and had an addition luster, and she noticed a few vials of watery liquid that had a small piece of a creature’s claw swimming inside like the strength enhancer she had currently. Everything else was a mystery, and with all the swirling and bubbling and bits of undissolved material, Rarity had to wonder just how much of this cabinet was truly safe for consumption.

“Is there anything specific you are looking for?” asked Aibnatu.

“Yes, actually.” Rarity’s eyes continued to scan the shelves behind the glass, searching for any glassware that appeared empty. “Do you have any potions that would turn me invisible?”

“Ah, a potion of invisibility.” Aibnatu had reached into her apron’s pocket, and from it she produced a key. She unlocked the glass barrier and removed a single vial from the cabinet. “Here you are,” she had said before depositing the seemingly empty vial in Rarity’s hoof

There was a noticeable weight there that was far more than just the glass itself, and when Rarity gave the vial a small shake, she felt a redistribution of that weight. Still, despite having the potion’s properties, both functional and aesthetic, explained to her multiple times today already, Rarity continued to struggled with the suspicion that she was being played for a fool, though Aibnatu’s presence had alleviated some of that worry.

“And the effect of this potion will last for one full hour, yes?”

“That is correct, provided that you do not make any actions that are too sudden. Oh, and I do have to warn you that the schools have very strict rules against turning invisible while on campus outside designated areas.”

Rarity nodded. “And how much is it?”

Aibnatu had started to speak, but she suddenly stopped to frown and tap at her chin. “Could you give me one moment, please?” she eventually requested after a few seconds of thought.

“Of course.” Not being in any of a real hurry, Rarity returned the potion and watched Aibnatu walk over to speak to one of the other attendants. Their conversation was hushed but animated, and the two went back and forth for several moments until finally Aibnatu’s coworker sighed and nodded her head. Aibnatu nodded back, and as she made her way back to Rarity, her smile grew larger with each step in her approach.

“So the price for a potion of this rarity would normally be around three hundred gold,” she explained, “but I spoke with my manager, and if you make a purchase of over one hundred gold, I am able to sell the potion to you for just two hundred. Just, ah, the one hundred must be for anything in our standard inventory.” Aibnatu waved to the accessory carrying displays that cover much of the store’s floor space. “Apologies, but additional potions will not count.”

“Then I may see what daggers you have for sale?” Rarity asked, turning her head toward the rack of weapons on the wall. And that was how Rarity left with the magic potion currently being held by Elkraps and the surprisingly light yet still perfectly balanced dagger in her pocket, its straight blade more similar in style to the one she had practiced with Sir Gustford back in Baldursgait, at a bargain and with gold to spare. As thanks, Rarity even used some of her leftover money to purchase one of Aibnatu’s glowing rings.

“So, this isn’t an assault,” Elkraps said slowly as she placed the bottle back down. The pieces were quickly connecting together. “This is an infiltration.”

Rarity nodded. “Oh, I understand quite well how abysmal my chances are of defeating the Squid Wizard and his army by myself, but with this potion and that spell scroll, I can at least get in and retrieve Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz’s bodies.”

“Hm, that’s definitely one of the more morbid heists that have ever been proposed to me,” Elkraps said with a light chuckle before she turned serious and her features hardened and became stern. “You make this all seem so very simple. Yes, this does sound far more doable than a direct offensive, but let’s say you do manage to get to their bodies. What then? You’ll still be in a fortress full of hostile guards. You’ve got a way in, but do you have a plan for how you’ll be getting out of there?”

“It’s, well, not exactly anything set in stone,” Rarity admitted, “but once I’ve revived my friends, I’m sure we’ll figure out the rest of all the little details.”

Truth be told, her plan went no further than bringing Spike and Discord back to life, but if that much got her access to the chaos spirit’s nigh infinite reality bending powers, then did the steps that followed really matter? Of course, Rarity couldn’t exactly explain to scrutinizing mare seated before her that her entire strategy hinged upon a draconequus making all her problems go away with a snap of his digits, not without first explaining who Discord was and his abilities and possibly sounding as though she had utterly lost her mind, and so Rarity could only try and convince Elkraps through the expressing of her own confidence in the matter.

That clearly was not working, as evident by the look Elkraps gave her in response to the largest, most assuring smile Rarity could muster. She continued to frown, and her eyes slowly narrowed before she leaned back in her chair and sighed. “You know, I could just say no to this request of yours,” Elkraps said with a tired shake of her head. “Just straight up refuse to teleport you right into enemy territory, and really, I think I really should. For your sake.”

Rarity opened her mouth to argue, but Elkraps shut her argument down with a stare. “Look, we haven’t known each other very long, but, I do enjoy your company. My studies keep me busy, keep me from making many friends, and now that Garbunkle is gone, I don’t want to lose you as well. And if something horrible were to happen, and it was because I gave you the go-ahead on this half-baked planned?” The unicorn shook her head again. “Listen, maybe you should go at this the way we had originally discussed. I’ll arrange for you and those Candelkeep scholars to be teleported to New Tesaddledale where your ship back to Spiketopia will be waiting. Then, once you’ve built up your own army, you can try attacking the Squid Wizard and maybe even use that as a distraction for you to sneak and get the bodies.” She picked up the scroll of teleportation. “I’ll even connect you to a mage who would be both powerful enough to activate this when you’re ready and willing to travel that far for an appropriate price.”

“Just the voyage back to Baldursgait alone will take me three whole weeks!” Rarity exclaimed, her voice suddenly raised. “And do you know how long it might take me to amass a large enough force to lay siege? Because I don’t! And is that even the right term? Is that what I want to do, to lay siege?”

Her voice became shrill with hysterics as she ran her hooves through her mane. “I don’t know! The only thing I do know is that I’ve been away from my home for far, far, far too long. From my friends, my family, my business that I’ve work so hard for and now might no longer exist due to my absence. Oh dear sweet Celestia, how I miss my house and bedroom and my own bed, my cat, and only having to deal with a single form of currency, and creatures referring to me by my actual real name, I’ve even become sick of being called ‘princess’ all this time, and then there’s all those fashion seasons I’m now so behind on. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to catch up with the curve after missing a single trend? And with heavens knows how many I’ve missed, I might never be relevant in the world of fashion ever again!”

The outburst left Rarity breathless, and as she struggled to slow down and keep herself from hyperventilating, Elkraps poured out some fresh tea into one of the cups and set it in front of Rarity.

After a few more deep, calming breaths, Rarity did what she could to straighten out the mess she had made of her mane and sat back down. She picked up the offered cup and took a sip, shuddering as the warm, lightly bitter drink washed down her throat. “Thank you,” Rarity said, her cheeks turning rosy pink. “And I’m sorry for, er, you having to see, um, that. I didn’t mean, I wasn’t.” She took another sip.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” Elkraps said with small smile. Her expression was no longer stern and disapproving but instead showed understanding and even some sympathy. “I understand that you’re going through a lot right now, and stress can get to the best of us.” She waited for Rarity to finish her tea before continuing. “Look, It’ll take me a few days to secure permission to teleport from the schools. Use that time to really give your next steps some thought. Sleep on it, go over all your options, maybe talk to those Candelkeep scholars, and if you’re still so set on being teleported straight to the Squid Wizard’s fortress, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“We, we will?” Rarity said, her incredulity apparent by the surprise in her voice.

Elkraps nodded slowly. “I can give you all the advice I’m able to, but you know your strengths and capabilities better than anyone, and in the end, it’s your decision to make. All I ask, as a...” There was a long second of hesitation. “...friend, is that you think this through completely before committing to anything. Can you promise me that?”

Rarity forced her sigh down. Try as she might, there was no squashing the burning frustration she continued to feel, not completely, but still she managed to successfully return Elkraps’s smile and nod. “After everything you’ve done for me, Dean Thigliwt, yes, I believe I can promise you that much at the very least.” She quickly finished her tea. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. I should leave you to your work.”

“Yes, I suppose this break has gone on long enough.” Elkraps sighed and waited for Rarity to finish putting everything back into her saddlebags before she stood up and led Rarity to the office door. “Keep that sending stone on you. I’ll let you know once everything is set up and we’re ready to teleport.”

Again, Rarity nodded, and after saying her goodbyes, she made her way through the main campus’s halls and out onto the crowded, noisy plaza outside. Her wandering eventually brought her back to the Hag’s Haven, and with nothing else prepared for the rest of her day, Rarity returned to her room where she could consider her meeting with Elkraps in private.

As much as it riled Rarity to concede, Elkraps’s suggestion was clearly the smarter, safer choice. It was a slower approach, sure, but that delay was time that could be put to good use, time to prepare, and each preparation made meant a better chance for success. Going the long way back to Baldursgait also meant reuniting with Sir Gustford, and the addition of allies, especially those with the expertise and connections that the former knight had, was something that did greatly appeal to Rarity. She herself might not be all that knowledgeable in the raising and leading of armies, and from what Rarity could glean from her borrowed memories, neither did Princess Shmarity, but the experienced Gustford might know just what was needed for an adequate distraction.

Hm, no, that didn’t feel right, to be relegating a hard and difficult battle to a mere distraction. Was that potential sacrifice really something Rarity was willing to follow through if it meant saving Spike and Discord and getting a way back to Equestria? Putting her own safety and life on the line was one thing, but the very idea of endangering others, even if they were complete strangers to her, like this left a heavy weight in the pits of her stomach.

Of course, Rarity’s other plan was one that placed every risk on her, and while it wouldn’t add any extra guilt to her already loaded conscience, that wasn’t exactly what she’d call ideal either. There was nothing that Elkraps had said about her plan that Rarity could dispute. It was indeed brash, reckless, the sort of bullheaded approach that Rainbow Dash would have endorsed if a direct assault wasn’t permitted, and above all, desperate, for Rarity was indeed a desperate mare. She was desperate to return home, to get back to her life, to regain all that she had lamented for in Elkraps’s office and more.

Desperation rarely resulted in smart decisions, but could Rarity really afford to spend anymore time? Maybe a new perspective might help her figure something else or at least give her time to calm down and straighten out her thoughts. Rarity reached into her bags and took out the skull, the glow in its eyes brightening as Rarity stared into them.

“Lady Selune?”

“I am here,” Selune said, her ghostly form appearing out from the skull. “I see that you seek my counsel regarding the recent conversation with your acquaintance.”

“If you wouldn’t mind giving it. My own thoughts on the matter are a jumbled mess, and right now I just need to hear from someone other than myself.”

The alicorn frowned. “I believe I have already made my assessment of your foolhardy scheme known, and much of what the mage said has been a reiteration of my own points. As for the alternative course of action she provided to you, I find that is a more than adequate replacement that will have a significantly greater chance in accomplishing the same goals you are aiming for and at a reduced risk to yourself.”

The alicorn’s answer had been expected, but it was still disappointing to hear, and at Selune’s words, Rarity’s ears dropped. “Then, you think I should take the longer way.”

“I do,” Selune said. She shut her eyes and brought a hoof to the bridge of her snout and let out a sigh. “However, I also agree with the mage in that this is your decision to make, not hers nor mine. Should you choose to go forward in your initial infiltration plan, I will do all that is within my powers to support you.”

The alicorn‘s hoof left from her face and went to Rarity’s shoulder. Though there was no physical touch, the spot where Selune would have pressed against felt pleasantly cool. “Patience is a virtue few mortals appreciate, but this urgency of yours, it is different. It screams out to me like a wounded animal. I cannot claim to understand what drives this need for swift action but neither can I deny its presence.”

The hoof was removed, and the alicorn lowered her forehead against Rarity’s. “Rest now. Things will become clearer once you have calmed and your thoughts are no longer clouded with emotion. We can discuss this further then, but for now, sleep.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for a nap?” Rarity said, laughing to hide her yawn. Selune’s form disappeared when Rarity placed the skull holding the deity’s spirit on the nightstand. She rubbed at her eyes and shook off her sudden weariness. “I should talk to Bluestockings, see what she has to think of all this. Perhaps it’s time to let her know who I really am.”

Or, at least, Rarity silently added, who I’m pretending to be.

“There will be time for talk later,” the voice of Selune continued. “The mage gave you a few days. Right now, the way your are, your discussion with your subject will achieve very little. Rest first. Give yourself time for your emotions to settle down, and then you will be able to focus.”

“I’m really not all that tired,” Rarity insisted.

“I can help with that, if you will permit me to.”

Maybe Selune was right. Rarity felt just as confused as she had been stepping out of Elkraps’s office, and her thoughts were as muddled as ever. Who knew if anything Bluestockings had to say would stick right now. Maybe some sleep was just what she needed at the moment.

“Very well then,” Rarity said. She took off her clothes, put away the rest of her things, and got in bed. “But just a quick nap, an hour, possibly two at the very most.”

“I understand,” Selune said. The alicorn’s figure had reappeared at Rarity’s bedside, and as she raised her horn and a soft melodic hum filled the room, the lids of Rarity’s eyes grew heavy. She shut them for a brief second, and when they reopened, her inn room had disappeared completely. All the furniture was gone, and walls that had surrounded her all been replaced with vast skies largely empty save for a small scattering of pink colored cloud. Rarity was no longer lying in bed, readying herself for sleep, but instead she stood upon a soft, squishy, pink surface that stuck to her legs whenever she attempted to move them.

“Welcome back.”

The voice seemed to come from every which direction, and no matter where Rarity turned her head, she couldn’t spot the speaker. A brisk breeze blew past her without warning and caused her to shiver as it carried the gentle chimes of laughter. The ground at her feet suddenly started to roll and shift, and Rarity, her balance lost, would have fallen forward onto her face had she not been caught by a wing of massive white feathers. She looked up at her savior and found herself staring up at the mismatched features of the Queen of Fey.

The mysterious being smiled as they withdrew their wing and held up the polka dotted parasol they had leaned against their shoulder, each dot a different color upon a backdrop of orange. Rarity saw that there was a small light brown cloud right above the parasol’s canopy, raining down a shower of green and red soap bubbles, but before Rarity could pondering it or the rain further, the Queen of Fey banished the cloud with a wave of her lion’s paw. The being then set the open parasol upside down next to Rarity and gestured her forward.

“It’s been awhile now since we’ve last seen each other, hasn’t it? Come, we’ve got a lot to discuss.” The Queen of Fey motioned Rarity again toward the umbrella. “After you.”

Baffled but seeing no other path, Rarity pulled herself out of the fluff and cautiously stepped into the upside down umbrella. The moment the Queen of Fey joined her, the umbrella hopped off the pink, sticky platform and floated through the skies.

“So,” the Queen of Fey said after some time had passed, “you’ve got a way to save your friends.” Her smile widened as they regarded Rarity with those still closed eyes. “I knew you could do it. And look, you even found a way right into the Squidzard’s lair. Looks like your little adventure’ll be coming to a close soon. How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous?”

“A little of both, I suppose.” Rarity looked to the endless horizon ahead of her and frowned. “Mostly confused, really.”

“Mortals usually are when they’re brought to my realm,” the Queen of Fey said with a chuckle. “Or, is this about something else? Perhaps something about what comes next? About what your next move will be?”

For the next few seconds that followed, Rarity was silent. “I know what the smart path is. I know which way is safer. The right decision seems so obvious when I think about it.” She shuddered and tucked in her forelimbs tightly against her chest. “I know all this and yet, it’s not the choice I what I want make.”

“What makes you so sure that the way everyone else seems so set on is the right one?” the Queen of Fey questioned.

“Because, it makes the most sense?”

The being scoffed. “Sense? Ha! Which one? Your sense of smell, perhaps?” They flicked at talon at the tip of Rarity’s snout, inciting a indignant yelp from Rarity as she grabbed at her nose. “Or maybe taste. Or smell? Or, sight?”

The Queen of Fey’s eyes slowly cracked open, and in the brief glimpse of what laid behind those lids, Rarity’s world became a messy splash of colors, blending and bleeding together into something that Rarity with all her words could never hope to describe. The colors danced and swirled and burst like the distorted reflection of fireworks on a lake’s murky surface until slowly they faded, leaving behind the image of a newborn filly, her coat as white as Rarity’s own and with similarly shaded mane as well.

Half a second later, Rarity was back in the parasol boat drifting in the skies, as suddenly as she had been taken out of it. As she struggled to regain her breath, she turned to the Queen of Fey whose eyes were now once again closed completely. “What, what was—“

“Sense can only tell you so much, especially when you lack the full picture,” continued the Queen without missing a beat. “That mage friend of yours and even the goddess you’ve recruited, what makes sense to them only does so because they don’t know what you and I do.”

The parasol came to a halt, and the Queen of Fey stretched their arms up over their head. “Listen here, you know that any further delays would be a waste of time. After all, you already have everything you need to succeed in this,” they said as they stepped out of the umbrella. The thin air they appeared to stand upon rippled like water with each step they took. “A quick and easy way into the Squidzard’s fortress, means to bring your friends back from the dead, a remnant of the old pantheon that has a layout of said fortress, a magic horn.”

“Yes, about that.” Rarity’s lips pursed together in a light, irritated scowl. “I remember quite specifically asking you where my magic horn was.”

“Like I said,” the Queen said, smirking, “you‘ve got everything you need. And remember, you also still have this.” The draconequus leaned over and hooked Rarity’s necklace with a talon. The silver snowflake dangled in front of Rarity’s eyes, swaying back and forth like the pendulum of a clock as it began to shine. “Now there might only be enough of my magic left in here for one last huzzah, but this one’s all you’ll be needing. You’ll make it count, I know you will.”

They let the chain drop and extended the claw toward Rarity, motioning her toward them. Rarity moved toward the edge of the vessel but hesitated as any sane creature would’ve when she peeked down at the endless drop through the heavens below. “How can I be sure that this will be enough?” she asked, bring her gaze back up to her enigmatic benefactor.

The Queen of Fey shook their head and sighed. “This humbleness is quite unbecoming of one such as yourself. Why, you might even say that such a display is a bit of a, rarity.” The being winked and chuckled, and before Rarity could comment, they went on to say, “Have a little more confidence in yourself. You’ve made it this far on far less, and lest we forget, you are of mine after all, destined for far more.” They broke into a sly little grin as they waved Rarity over to them. “Come, child. We still have work to do. My plan for you and this world have only just begun.”

Rarity stared at the offered claw for a few seconds longer before she took in a deep breath, reached out, and placed a hoof into the claw. As the Queen of Fey helped her rise and climb out of the upside down parasol, her free, flailing limbs struggled to find the invisible platform that the Queen was standing on. Rarity tried to retreat back to the safety of the umbrella, but the Queen held firm and yanked her toward them. Rarity soon found herself dangling by her leg that was still in the Queen of Fey’s grasp, and as she was hoisted up to the Queen’s eye level, the being’s smile grew, exposing a single discolored, familiarly lopsided fang on the side of their mouth.

“You're not alone, you know. What you were, and what you are to become, will always be with you.”

“I’m sorry, what are you—“

“In any case, I'll be watching. And if you're very lucky, I'll drop by to say hello from time to time. Well, until then, arrivederci.”

The Queen of Fey released Rarity’s hoof, and just as Rarity felt the pull of gravity take hold of her, her eyes fluttered open. The skies, the pink clouds, the draconequus, they had all vanished, and Rarity was back in the room from the Hag’s Haven, her head once more against the provided bed’s tolerably soft cushion.

Slowly, she sat up and felt something bounce against her chest. Rarity looked down and saw that it was the symbol the Queen of Fey, the warmth and glow coming from the silver pendant already fading even as she came to notice them.

“You are awake,” Rarity heard Selune say, the sudden statement from the skull to her side startling her out of her musings. “It has been a little over an hour. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, actually.” Rarity removed herself from the covers and got out of bed. Her body felt lighter and no longer painfully stiff, her frustration from earlier was gone and in its place was a sense of peace, and that confusion she had been fighting since the conclusion of her talk with Elkraps was no longer causing a headache now that conflicting thoughts clashing in her head had been silenced. Everything just seemed so much clearer now. It was surprising just how vast an improvement that nap had done for her, though considering her fantastic encounter whilst unconscious, it might have been a great deal more than a simple short rest.

“Did, um, anything happen while I was sleeping?” Rarity inquired. “Anything peculiar or strange?”

“Nothing that would have required my concern,” Selune answered. “Why do you ask? Were you expecting something to occur?”

“No, it’s, well, it’s nothing.” Rarity walked to the window and peered through, looking over the town outside. She picked up the silver symbol around her neck and brought up to her gaze. Her reflection stared back as it held up its own pendant.

“Alright then,” she whispered to the mare in the glass. “Let’s do it your way.”

45. Oubliette of Fort Iron

Oubliette of Fort Iron

Rarity gave it a few more days before letting Elkraps know of her decision just like she had promised her, but her answer remained unchanged from her meeting with the Queen of Fey. If anything, the extra time she had to think ended up yielding more reasons to why taking the direct approach now was better than going at it the safer but longer way. Who knew what the Squid Wizard would end up doing to the bodies of Spike and Discord the longer they stayed in his tentacled clutches? Even if she could successfully gather a large enough force to take on the Squid Wizard and his army in a direct confrontation, it would all be for naught if the remains of her friends were somehow rendered completely lost to her.

And then there was the guilt of having to leave Discord and poor Spikey in that wretched state she had last seen the two in. Rarity had no idea how being dead felt, there weren’t exactly many personal accounts on such an experience, but she couldn’t imagine it‘d be a very pleasant sensation, and the last thing she wanted was to prolong that suffering and extend their time as rotting corpses. No, Rarity really couldn’t afford to dilly-dally anymore than she already had, not when she already had everything she needed to save her friends.

It took Elkraps some time before she expressed the same sort of understanding to Rarity’s final choice that Bluestockings had shown when Rarity told her that she would not be traveling with her and Professor Pedagogue back to Baldursgait, and when the day of her departure finally arrived and she met with Elkraps at the main campus lobby, Rarity could clearly see the reluctance in the unicorn’s smile.

“Hello, Princess,” she said. “I hope you’ve had a good morning so far. All set? Do you have everything?”

Rarity nodded with a quick glance over her shoulder at her saddlebags, having taken inventory right before she had checked out of the Hag’s Haven and said her farewells to the receptionist. The scroll of resurrection, the potions of healing, of invisible, and of strength, were all organized to be easily accessible while the skull that contained the Moonmaiden’s essence had a chunk of a pocket all to itself. In the inner pocket of her old traveler’s cloak, the last of the damage it had sustained from her fight with the troll having been magically mended by a professional, she had her daggers, ready to be drawn at the first sign of battle. The ring from Aibnatu hung from the necklace chain around her neck, tucked into her cloak right beside the Queen‘s symbol. Her fancier robes, a little souvenir for Rarity to take home, laid at the bottom of her bags along with rest of her dungeoneering gear. The rope might possibly come in handy, but she doubted there would be much use for the preserved rations, the box of flint and tinder, or the pitons.

“I’m ready.”

“Alright.” The dean sighed. “Follow me.”

The two mares made their way to a section of the center cathedral that Rarity had not gone through. Similar to the path to the various departments down below, they had to get through a series of twisting and turning corridors before they hit a dead end. The wall right in front of them had a large circle of white runes drawn over the solid stone, and when they had stopped, Elkraps pulled out a small strip of paper that had the same circle upon it from her pocket. She started to step toward the wall with the paper raised but paused and turned to look to Rarity.

“One last time. I need to know. Are you completely sure about this?”

“Without a single shred of doubt,” Rarity responded, meeting those oh so familiar violet eyes with her own sky blue ones.

Elkraps sighed again, and she continued forward. The paper made contact with the wall, and from the symbols there came a flash of blinding light. When Rarity opened her eyes, she discovered that she and Elkraps had been brought to a dark chamber that was barely illuminated by a set of blue flamed torches stuck to the top of poles, one for each corner. The low but constant rumble of activity that echoed through the main campus had been eerily silenced, and the steps of the cloaked figure approaching them resonated loudly throughout the room as their feet tapped against the hard stone floor. Runes in white writing covered the ground, arranged in the same rounded structure that had been on the wall and on Elkraps’s paper so that the mysterious shapes and characters encircled the room’s center.

The individual hidden beneath their hood, the only hints of their identity being that they were all some kind of quadruped and that they were close in stature to the two mares, and Elkraps shared a nod before the dean of the school of evocation turned back to Rarity. “Well, I guess this is where we say our goodbyes,” she said with a small, sad smile. She held out her hoof. “If this is truly what you have to do, then all the best of luck, Princess Shmarity, and I hope the time comes when we’ll be able to see each other again.”

Rarity accepted the extended hoof and shook it. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, she tossed aside all air of dignity and grace and threw her free foreleg over the unicorn’s shoulder, pulling the magician into an embrace. Elkraps stiffened at the sudden contact, but right as the passing seconds were starting to make Rarity question whether her show of affection had been a bit too forward, the unicorn reached over and gave Rarity a pat on the back. It was easily one of the most clumsy hugs Rarity had ever experienced, but the feelings behind the gesture were genuine and could be felt past all that awkwardness, and neither of them made a move to break it until finally the hooded creature impatiently cleared their throat.

Elkraps stepped back and smoothed out her robes as she tried to recover some decorum. “Er, well, thanks for, that, I suppose.” She coughed. “Right, well, we should get started. The scroll of teleportation, if I may?”

Rarity took out the scroll from her bag and gave it up to Elkraps who in turn surrendered it into the custody of the hooded creature. Wordlessly, the stranger directed Rarity to stand in the very middle of the circle, and once she had done so, they and Elkraps stepped outside the white ring of runes. The string around the parchment was removed, and the scroll was opened. As the cloaked being began to speak or perhaps read the contents written in the scroll, their voice barely louder than a mutter and yet still easily heard as it was carried by the acoustics of the room, the torches started to dim, their light replaced by a faint glow that was being emitted by the symbols surrounding Rarity.

Powerful gusts of wind picked up and swirled around her, drowning out the chants of the stranger as the room started to spin. Rarity managed to catch one last wave from Elkraps before she, the hooded figure, and the rest of chamber blurred together in one large mess. Rarity raised her hoof up to shield her face, but no sooner had she done so than the winds began to die down. The room went still, the runes at her feet dimmed and dulled, and both Elkraps and the hooded one had vanished. So had the torches sat upon poles, and instead the room was lit by several bright red flames that bursted forth from the numerous sconces jutting out of the rounded walls that circled around her.

There was barely time for Rarity to note the sudden appearance of the flames or the change in the room’s structure when a piercing blare screeched out. Heavy steps from above could barely be heard past the shrill noise as her ears flattened against her head. “Someone’s coming!” Selune’s voice cried out over the din. “Quick, the potion!”

At the Moonmaiden’s exclamation, Rarity sprung to action and pulled out the seemingly empty vial from her bag. She tore off the glass stopper and brought the vial to her lips. Something cold streamed down her throat, almost causing her to choke in surprise, and the moment she swallowed, Rarity watched as her hooves shimmer and fade right before her eyes until only a faint outline could be detected. A quick glance around her confirmed that the rest the rest of her body and her belongings had followed suit just as the source of the steps swelled, and from the sole hall leading out of this circular chamber rushed in some several guards, a diverse mix of ponies, diamond dogs, and skeletons with glowing green lights coming out of their eye sockets, all clad in the same dull chain mail armor with their rusty blades and spearheads at the ready.

The earth pony stallion at the vanguard slowly lowered his spear and used its shaft to push his dented helmet up over his eyes and scowled. “Shut off that alarm. No creature’s here, never mind the princess.”

The diamond dog next to him snorted. “Uh, wut?”

“I said, shut that alarm off! No need to wake the entire keep over nothing.”

“What?” shouted out another one of his fellows.

“Shut. Off. The. Danged—“

“What?”

With her back pressed against the wall, Rarity slowly made her way around the guards, giving them as wide a berth as possible, and snuck down the way the group had come from while they were all still confused and distracted. The wailing of the alert continued to follow her, but the shouts eventually quieted as the distance between Rarity and the bickering guards grew. The path soon brought her to a stairway that led up to a dark, decorated hall that was buzzing with patrolling sentries. Rarity had to quickly step out of the way of a pair of grumbling guards who unknowingly walked past her as they descended the stairs she had just climbed up.

“What, they couldn’t hold onto one little princess until morning? I thought we supposed to get a heads up so we’d have time to get ready.”

“I know, right? The master’s not going to be happy about this when he gets back.”

So the Squid Wizard himself wasn’t here. How fortunate, but unless she wanted to try testing the extend of her luck, Rarity needed to get moving. More guards were making their way toward here, and Rarity had to dodge past a few more of them as she went down the carpeted hall and found herself a quiet, deserted little corridor, empty save for the squid shaped crests of silver on the walls above and a larger than life portrait of the Squid Wizard himself. The depiction of the magical cephalopod was even more ridiculous than Rarity had remembered him being as the painted squid posed proudly while wearing a stately, old fashioned military uniform that looked even more out of place than his usual magician’s getup.

It took Rarity a little time to find and pull out the invisible skull of Selune’s descendant out of her invisible pack. “Lady Selune?” she whispered once she was certain that the skull was in her hooves. “Which way?”

Silence answered Rarity at first, and her panic swelled with each millisecond that ticked by without a response, but she calmed herself once she felt the skull warm and could just barely catch a glimpse of the alicorn’s faint figure in front of her. “Continue down this hall until you reach a split path. Take the left.”

Following the Moonmaiden’s directions, Rarity hurried through what she assumed was the Squid Wizard’s castle keep based on its appearance and her previous time there, slowing down only to ensure her hooves made as little noise as possible whenever guards were around. It was around this point when the blaring alarm finally became silent, when Selune’s instructions brought her to a passageway blocked by a host of skeletal sentinels and hulking diamond dogs brutes.

“The way to the dungeons is through there,” Rarity heard Selune say and hoped that no creature else could. None of the guards before her seemed to have any reaction to the reverberating voice of the goddess, so she turned her focus to figuring out how she was going to get past all those bodies in her way.

There was no way of knowing for sure if the bodies of her friends were indeed down there. Selune admitted that the body she was currently dwelled in lacked any recollection to where exactly its former master held Spike and Discord, but Rarity had concluded with Selune beforehand that the dungeons would be as good as any place to start. If Spike and Discord weren’t there, then perhaps one of the many prisoners the Squid Wizard was keeping down there might have a clue to their location.

That just left the small matter of getting down to the cells below in the first place. Rarity was invisible, not incorporeal, and there wasn’t enough space for her to squeeze by without accidentally brushing against anyone. Trying to fight her way through all those guards was the endeavor of a fool with a death wish, so if the two most apparent approaches weren’t going to work here, Rarity was going to have to get creative.

She pulled up her necklace, removed Aibnatu’s ring from the chain, and whispered well under her breath a single word: “Luminoso.”

The moment she saw the ring started to shine, Rarity tossed it down the hall. It’s light brightened significantly as it left Rarity’s hoof, drawing the attention of a couple of the diamond dogs while the sharp tap of the metal piece knocking against the stone wall perked the ears of the others.

“What that?” one of the large canines growled. “What noise?”

“Light,” sniffed another, pointing his nose in the direction of the glowing ring. Grabbing their weapons, the diamond dogs abandoned their post to investigate, leaving the literal skeleton crew to continue holding the position. The eerie glow coming from their eye holes appeared to be of little to no help, those sockets might as well have been completely empty, as Rarity, who had room to maneuver now that the bulkiest of the bodies were out of her way, simply walked right by and walked down the steps they were supposed to be guarding.

The stairs were many, requiring more than a couple of minutes before Rarity reached the bottom and entered the dungeons below. The entire room, barely lit by a couple of braziers with red hot burning coals hanging from the roof, consisted of three massive sets of jail cells, one on each side of the room separated by a single aisle and the third right across from her at the very end of said aisle. All three cells were packed with ponies, some as young as foals and others old enough to be Rarity’s grandparents, and then there was everything in between. Regardless of age, gender, or build, each and every face had on a look of misery, with some barely able to maintain a cover of stoic defiance while others appearing to teeter on the brink of tears or looking as though they had just finished having a breakdown. There were even a few who had on exhausted expressions of defeat that Rarity recalled seeing on many of the former slaves before she, Biala Diyn, and the rest of their companions had put an end to their oppressors and removed their shackles.

The fearful looks of the children as they huddled beside their parents, shivering against the cold stone floor, were especially heartbreaking, but Rarity’s sorrow quickly gave way to rage as she watched a stallion in armor stand before the cells, dangling a ring of jingling keys in front of the prisoners and laughing as he ran a dagger noisily against the bars. His cruel snickering was cut short as something slammed into his side and tackled him to the ground. He heard the prisoners gasp, but the sharp edge of a blade digging into his neck discouraged any exclamation or movement.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Rarity, now visible as she stood on top of the prone stallion with her dagger pressed against him, hissed. She quickly raised her other hoof to her lips to quiet the startled prisoners before turning back to the scumbag on the floor. “Make even the slightest sound and I’ll slash your throat into the finest of ribbons and make myself a lovely little bow out of them. Now nod if I’ve made myself clear.”

It surprised, even frightened her a bit, to hear such a explicit declaration of violence in her own voice, but it did its job as the sufficiently intimated thug nodded his head profusely. “Good. Now tell where you’re keeping Spike, and keep quiet or else...”

The dagger’s curved blade dug in a little deeper as Rarity’s implied threat sunk in as well. “S-S-Spike? Please, I don’t know no Spike. No Spike here, honest, swear on me mother’s ashes.”

Rarity bit back an annoyed groan, and if she hadn’t been so preoccupied keeping this guard pinned down, she’d have brought her hoof to her face. “I mean Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz. Where are their bodies? What did you do to them?”

“Y-you mean, t-those heroes that tried to break in? We ain’t keeping them down here. Really, they ain’t. I mean, yeah, we brought them down to show them off to the prisoners and all, make the more rowdier bunch a little more compliant, but they ain’t here no more.”

“Then where are they now?” Rarity demanded.

“I-I don’t know. They move around a lot, usually with the master or his deputy, that fellow in the black armor.”

Rarity’s face fell at this revelation, but she kept her voice and blade steady. “Are they with the Squid Wizard now?”

“N-no. They’re still in the castle, in the throne room, I think. A-at least, that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t really get to go into the throne room much, s-so I’ve haven’t seen them myself.” The trembling stallion shook his head. “A-and that’s all I know, honest. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve help, haven’t I? That has to be worth something to you.”

“Well yes, I suppose it certainly was something,” Rarity said with begrudging reluctance and disappointment, similar to the kind of tone she’d take with Sweetie Belle or Pinkie Pie whenever one of them would misunderstand and follow their assigned instructions a little too literally. “Thank you.”

The stallion let out a sigh of relief. “Then, you’re—“

The butt of her dagger’s hilt bashed into the back of the guard’s head, knocking his head into the ground with a hard thud. Rarity stepped off his body and started to put away her weapon only to drop it as something swept against her legs, tripping her and sending her falling. Now it was the armored stallion standing over her as she laid on the ground, his features twisted with anger and bruised, squished, and flattened from the impact to the floor. His unfocused eyes eventually found her, and his scowl turned to a snarl as he lunged down at her, reaching for Rarity’s neck.

“Think you can humiliate me like that, huh?” he growled, struggling to push past Rarity’s flailing limbs. “You’re going to pay for that. I’ll learn you good, you stupid mare!”

He reared up and slammed down his front hooves down on Rarity’s throat, and though she managed to raise her leg up in time to block and take the blunt of blow, she could still feel her airway constrict as he continued to press down. The simple and natural act of respiration became an arduous endeavor as her breathing gradually turned to choking gasps. The shadows on the edges of her vision slowly expanded. Still pushing back with all the might she could muster against the guard’s attempts to suffocate her, Rarity stuck her free hoof into her cloak and sought desperately for the handle of her other dagger.

Before she could do so and pull the weapon out of its sheath, however, Rarity’s assailant shuddered, and the pressure on her neck drastically reduced. He blinked and left out what sounded like a mix between a cough and a gurgle before collapsing right on top of her. As Rarity struggled to push him off her, she found her first dagger, the one she had threatened the stallion with, buried almost hilt deep into the spot where the neck meets the back of the head, and standing over the both of them was a mare, her powerful, toned body colored ash gray and with a mane that was of a similar shade. Across the bridge of her snout there was a long horizontal scar, and the cold stare the mare was giving with her light blue eyes was oddly familiar to Rarity.

“Huntress?”

“You should have just done that in the first place,” the mare said, scowling. She tore the blade out and pulled the body off Rarity then held out a hoof toward her. As she help Rarity back onto her feet, the hard look on the mare’s face was replaced with surprise and recognition. “Wait, Princess Shmarity?“

Mutters and whispers swept through the cages that gradually grew louder as they spread from prisoner to prisoner, and while most of what was being said was too low for Rarity to hear, she managed to catch several instances of her pseudonym being mentioned in awe, reverence, and incredulity. The space closest to the bars became crowded as those trapped inside pushed forward to look upon Rarity with wide eyes and their mouths gaping.

“What’s going on? Why are you here? No, save it,” Huntress suddenly demanded, holding up a hoof as if to push back any explanation. “There’s no time.” With the guard’s ring of keys in her possession, having been retrieved when their previous owner had dropped to the floor, she walked over to the cell on the other side and unlocked its door. Prisoners from Huntress’s cell were already making their way out through the opened entrance, many of whom surrounded Rarity, thanking her for saving them to the point of being exorbitant and ignoring her attempts to temper their extolment.

More joined their number, some whom she recognized like Elder Woods and Farm Stead as well as several faces from Princess Shmarity’s memories of the palace guards who immediately stood at attention and briefly saluted when her gaze fell over them. The dead thug on the ground was immediately relieved of his weapons, and many of the prisoners, particularly those she saw as former members of Spiketopia’s royal defense force, carried jagged pipes or makeshift shivs out of the cells with them. Those armed quickly made their way to the front, readying their weapons and blocking the stairway downward as Huntress continued opening cells.

“You seem, surprisingly well prepared for this,” Rarity noted aloud to Huntress once she had managed to free herself from the crowd and made it to the mare’s side.

“We had time to prepare,” Huntress said as she unlocked the next cell. “Just had to wait for the right moment to act, and here you are, providing it for us.” Her lips twitched into the smallest hint of a smirk, for about half a second.

The last of the cell doors was swung open as she let out a bemused snort, and looking to Rarity, Huntress held up the dagger she had used on the sadistic guard. “I’ll be borrowing this,” she said, and before Rarity could give either her approval or rejection, she lost Huntress in the growing crowd.

“As charming as ever, that mare,” muttered Rarity, rolling her eyes. She gave the room another quick scan. Some stayed inside the cells, mostly the elderly and the young foals, while the others were slowly organizing themselves into formation at the direction of those at the front. One particular stallion giving commands, a grizzled old earth pony with a large mustache in dire need of maintenance and the posture and physique of a pony half his apparent age, stopped, and after speaking to the pony next to him, he made his way through the crowd to her.

“Princess,” the earth pony said, bowing. His voice was as deep and commanding as Rarity would have expected from the stallion’s appearance and the air of authority he carried with him even in these less than dignified conditions. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for the royal guard’s inability to protect the palace, the kingdom, and you and your family. As captain of the third division, I must bare at least some responsibility for our failure. Rest assured, Princess, that we will regain our lost honor.”

“It’s, Captain Aegis Fort, isn’t it?” Rarity said, needing a moment to draw the stallion’s identity from her borrowed memories. “I’m glad to see that you’re still alive and well.”

“Indeed.” The stallion Princess Shmarity knew as Aegis Fort raised his head and grinned. “We’ll make that blasted squid regret he ever even thought about sparing us.” He turned back to the front. “Corporal? Is everypony ready?”

“Yes, Captain. On your order.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, getting the attention of all in the dungeon. “Alright fillies and gentlecolts. We’ve gone over the plan a thousand times already. If you need a refresher, ask the pony next to you and hope they’ve paid attention. Remember to stick with your group. I don’t want to see anyone playing hero or rushing forward and getting themselves killed, especially you civilians. Stay calm, stay methodical, understood?”

Aegis Fort got his answer in the form of a collective stomp along with a few cheers that were quickly to be shushed down by their neighbors. He raised his sharpened iron pipe. “Forward!”

The others yelled out as well, and those on the frontline charged up the stairs. The captain turned to a small group of younger ponies, not quite foals but hardly adults either. “Wait until we’ve secured the escape route. Once we give you the signal, start bringing everyone else up and hurry.” The younger recruits nodded, and Aegis Fort turned back to Rarity as the sounds of battle, of shouts and the clanks of metal hitting against metal, could already be heard coming from the floor above. “Princess, I’m not sure how you managed to get here or why you would come back, but we can discuss all that later. In any case, you’ve done enough for us already, and I want you to stay down here with these other villagers where it’s safe. I’ll come down to get you myself once we’re ready.”

“I appreciate your concern, Captain, but I’m afraid I will have to decline,” Rarity said. “I have other business to attend to while I’m in the Squid Wizard’s fortress. Please excuse me.”

She started to move toward the stairs, to where the others had all headed up, but Captain Aegis Fort caught Rarity by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks with his powerful grip. “Whatever you think you need to do, it can’t be worth the risk of losing you again,” he sternly said. “We can come back and reclaim the capital when we’ve gathered our scattered forces, but right now we need to focus on getting us all out of here in one piece. So I’ll ask you again, Princess, please, stay here with your subjects until it is safe.”

Rarity tried to pull free, but the stallion’s hold on her stayed firm. “What if I were to order you to let me go?”

Aegis chuckled. “Sorry, Princess, but with all due respect, I answer directly to your father, not you, and until we’ve reestablished the chain of command, I’m the one calling the shots here.” His expression turned stern, his eyes narrowing into a cold and steely stare. “I don’t have time for this right now, so you will have to forgive me for my bluntness. For your own good, you are staying here, Princess, end of discussion.“

In response to all her futile struggling, Aegis only tightened his grip. This was getting Rarity nowhere fast, and at this realization, she could only sigh tiredly and let herself go limp. With her limbs loose and relaxed, Rarity could now reach into her saddlebags, and after some quick rummaging, she pulled out the vial with the dirty little piece of keratin floating inside. Snapping the top off with her teeth, Rarity brought the vial up to her lips and choked down its contents, the tannish sliver and all.

Now to see if it was worth the taste of crusty socks that was in her mouth. Rarity gave one last pull, and this time, she ripped herself away from the guard captain with surprising ease, causing the older stallion to stumble forward and nearly fall. Before he could recover, Rarity took off, ignoring his calls after her as she bounded up the stairs and stepped into the chaotic fray.

Teams of prisoners clashed on their former wardens, striking quickly and together and overwhelming the Squid Wizard’s soldiers with their speed, numbers, and sheer determination and or desperation. Cracks and loud smashes filled the hall as the skeletal forces were reduced to broken and separate bones from the multitude of consecutive bludgeons, and while the larger diamond dogs seemed to be a greater challenge, more and more of their bodies were starting to hit the floor as the prisoners piled onto them, holding them down for their comrades to apply the critical blow. The improvised clubs, pikes, and knives were swiftly discarded in favor of the maces, spears, and swords of the fallen oppressors, further swinging the tide of battle in favor of the escaping prisoners even as the shouts and screams brought in reinforcements to quell the rebellion.

“We need to get to the throne room!” Rarity heard Selune exclaim over the skirmish. “We will not have much time now.” A ghostly foreleg formed before Rarity’s eyes and pointed. “This way, hurry!”

Rarity didn’t get far before one of the Squid Wizard’s minions got in her way, and the swing of his sword forced her to stop and take a step back. With a frustrated groan that transitioned into a savage snarl at its end, Rarity drew her spare dagger and answered the attack by plunging the shorter blade into the stallion’s chest. The dagger stabbed through the chain shirt the guard had on as though it were made of tissue paper, the potion’s strength enhancing effects still coursing through her body. Seeing her foe’s body go slack and his weapon drop, Rarity freed her blade, and the guard crumpled at her feet with Xs over his eyes, adding to the number of casualties that littered the corridor.

She hurried off but only managed a modest distance before a duo of the larger diamond dog imposed themselves before her, their collective mass blocking the path to the throne room. Rarity pawed at the floor and readied her dagger as her newest obstacles lowered their pole-arms at her, but before either party could make a move, there was a low, warbled and yet piercing cry. The carpet beneath the diamond dogs gave way to vibrant green weeds and vines that suddenly sprouted up and wrapped themselves around the dogs’s ankles and beyond, and soon, the explosive growth had entangled the two large canines, leaving the both of them effectively restrained.

Rarity turned to the source of the initial sound and found Elder Woods standing behind her with his one good hoof raised and his cloudy eyes exposed and appearing to glow. The old zebra nodded to Rarity and hobbled off to rejoin the main group. Not having the time to waste, Rarity called out a quick thanks after the retreating zebra then made her way around the grasping greenery and the struggling dogs and charged down the hall ahead. Her hooves thundered against the covered floors as she broke into a full gallop, running as fast as she possibly could away from the sounds of battle and to where Spike and Discord hopefully were being kept.

Portraits of the Squid Wizard hanging from the walls and decorative statues of grotesque multi-headed beasts glared at Rarity as she passed, but she ignored their disapproving looks, focusing instead on Selune’s continued directions. The ruby eyes of the silver squid emblems and their runes of green glistened in the light of the candelabras, and seeing some of the dark and violent paintings that she ran by was starting to jog what few memories she had of this place and its layout.

The hall she had been following down opened up into a grand foyer. Cascading down the side were a number of banners, either orange or violet in color, and in the back of the room, atop a raised platform, there was a golden throne. A massive stained glass depiction of a giant squid that took up a majority of the rear wall stared down at Rarity as she slowly approached the throne. Other than all that, the room was distressingly empty. No Discord. No Spike.

Her heart rate picked up with panic, and Rarity opened her mouth to ask if, and desperately hoping, there might happen to be a second throne room somewhere that the guard was actually referring to when she heard the soft taps of approaching footsteps. Company was coming and fast, and with no hint as to the newcomers might be or time to hide behind the seat of gold or one of the banners, Rarity spun around and drew her dagger as she primed herself for combat.

Three figures came into view. The one taking the lead was the pony in black plate armor and full helm who had brought her before the Squid Wizard that day oh so long ago, the red glow of the runes around his neck clearly visible in the lack of light. Rarity’s grip on her dagger tightened as she saw a great broadsword floating beside him, the blade nearly as tall and wide as she was. An orange aura surrounded the sword’s handle, holding it aloft.

The two at the armored stallion’s sides eventually stepped into her view as well, and what Rarity saw caused her racing heart to go almost completely still. There, walking right towards her, were the bodies of Discord and Spike.

46. End of the Line

End of the Line

Relief, confusion, worry, the sight of Spike and Discord invoked so many different feelings from her, but as they got closer and gave Rarity a better look at them, the more negative thoughts and emotions quickly overtook her optimistic side. The color in Discord’s fur and Spike’s scales had faded and gone dull, leaving the both of them with an abnormal grayness in their appearance. Each motion they made, be it a step or a swing of an arm, was stilted with an odd rigidity that made Rarity squirm, like watching someone force themselves to walk unaided on a broken leg.

Still dressed in those gaudy costumes, they shambled ever closer, their eyes dull and devoid of life and with a sickeningly green glow to them. Rarity’s blood ran cold at the lack of expression on Spike’s face, at the missing familiar blend of glee and bashfulness the dragon would usually have on in her presence, and there was something especially unnatural about seeing Discord so stiff and vacant, with not even so much of a hint of an arrogant smirk to be found. The temperature of the room appeared to drop with each dragging step they took toward Rarity, and she shuddered when the two opened their mouths and let out a low, guttural groan.

“S-stay back!” Rarity shouted, holding out her weapon. As she slowly retreated and they slowly approached, the tip of her blade alternated between her three targets, from being pointed at Spike to the black knight to Discord then back to the dragon in the wizard robes and beard. “It’s me, Spikey Wikey, it’s Rarity,” she pleaded. “Whatever horrible spell that vile squid has you under, I know you can fight it. Please, do it for me.”

There was no sign that Rarity’s words were reaching. Spike continued forward, seemingly ignoring Rarity and her pleas. The stallion in the black suit of armor halted, and with a downward swing of his sword, he pointed the blade at Rarity.

“Bring her to me, alive,” he commanded, and at the blackguard’s order, Spike and Discord lunged forward.

A bright light suddenly shined behind Rarity, causing both Spike and Discord stumble back and hiss as they raised their arms to shield themselves from the radiant glow. A quick glance over her shoulder was all Rarity needed to determine that the light was coming from her saddlebags, and upon opening them, she immediately discovered its source. She held up the skull of Selune’s descendant that despite now being wreathed in brilliant white flames was only comfortably warm in her hooves and watched as Spike and Discord immediately withdrew with thin streams of steam wafting from their bodies that was accompanied by a low sizzling sound.

“Those are not your friends,” Selune said, her voice echoing through the throne room. “The creatures before you are merely their soulless shells twisted by the Squid Wizard’s foul magics, undead puppets here to do his bidding and no different than the skeletons we have already encountered.”

“So what do I do?” Rarity asked frantically, hysterics driving her breathing almost to the point of hyperventilating. “How do we break the spell?”

“Destroy the puppets,” instructed Selune. “Their bodies can only sustain so much damage before the magic animating them gives out.”

“But, I can’t—“

“You must if you wish to bring your friends back. I cannot return their souls to their bodies as they are now. The resurrection spell will not work on them while the taint of undeath remains so strongly on their bodies. Now hurry!” Selune exclaimed. The flames coming from the Moonmaiden’s skull were beginning to flicker and reduce in size and intensity. “I cannot keep them turned for very long.”

Rarity’s hold on her dagger tightened, and she stared into the cold, dead, glowing eyes of Spike, his face twisted by expressions of fear, hate, and pain. No, not his face, Rarity forced herself to think, not her Spikey. She took a deep breath. Like Selune had said, it was just a husk, just a puppet.

Continually repeating that to herself like so failed to make the task ahead of her any easier to accept or perform. If anything, the mental anguish left her paralyzed and vulnerable, and it was only by the warning that Selune had yelled out that Rarity managed to duck down and avoid the black knight’s broad blade. The sudden maneuver came at a cost, however, and she lost her hold on Selune’s vessel. The skull bounced and rolled a bit along the floor, but it remained intact and continued to burn, its light still keeping the animated bodies of Spike and Discord at bay.

The black knight gave Rarity no chance to retrieve the goddess as he made a second wide swing of his great sword and forced her to jump back. She looked to the armored adversary before her, then to the skull with Selune’s spirit, and finally to Spike and Discord who continued to cower before the skull’s glow before returning her full attention to the stallion in black armor. Rarity had no clue as to how much longer the effects of Selune’s ability would last, but dealing with Spike and Discord’s zombies would have to wait, at least until she was able to get away from this ironclad enemy.

As the knight charged forward with his sword held high by his magic, Rarity reached her hoof to her shoulder and pressed against the hardened pad beneath her cloak. A couple of seconds later, she felt an odd warmth engulf over her like a towel or blanket right out of the dryer, the same sensation she had experienced during the attunement process, but before she could think more of it, her opponent’s blade came down upon her in a vertical slash. To her surprise, the painful strike she was expecting never came as Rarity watched the blade suddenly stopped mere inches from making contact. A light lime green glow distinct from the orange aura that was around the sword’s handle covered the edge of the blade that was closest to her. A huff and a grunt came from the knight, and the sword shook with effort as it fought to push past the greenish glow.

The blade only resumed its course once Rarity had stepped safely out of its way, causing it to slam heavily against the floor and dig itself into the stone beneath the carpet. While the knight struggled to free his weapon, Rarity immediately sprung forward and tried to drive her own blade into the blackguard’s undoubtably black heart. Unfortunately for her, the armor upon his chest proved far more difficult to pierce than a shirt of linked chains, and even with the added strength from the potion and the enchantments on her new dagger, her blade simply bounced off the black iron plate.

The black knight tore his sword out of the ground as Rarity reeled back from her deflected strike, and he whipped the hilt across Rarity’s face while she was still recovering. The blow dropped her to the floor, but Rarity had no time to focus on the stinging pain in her reddened cheek as the knight already had his sword raised, readying himself for a follow up attack.

“The master will want you alive,” he said. “Don’t worry, this won’t be lethal. It’ll just hurt like heck.”

Just as he swung, Rarity threw up her foreleg and yell out as loudly as she could. At the sound of her shout, the brass anklet around her leg lit up and blinded her and hopefully her opponent with a flash. When the light faded and Rarity had finished blinking away the colored spots and regained her sight, she found the knight’s great sword once again stopping just short of cutting into her. The green glow was there again, but also imposed between her and the blade was the gold ethereal image of a heater shield, flat at the top that rounded into a point at its bottom.

The knight’s growl rang out of his helmet as another one of his attacks had been foiled, and he pressed himself against the floating sword, adding his own weight and physical strength down against Rarity’s magical shield. The barrier was holding, but Rarity had no desire to test just how long the spell would last. She tried to focus on coming up with a plan, perhaps rolling out of the way and letting the sword get stuck in the ground again to open her opponent up for a second counterattack, but her attention was instead stolen by a loud groan a little distance away.

Turning her head slightly, Rarity saw that the animated bodies of Spike and Discord were slowly starting to approach Selune’s skull. The zombies still had their arms up, covering their faces from the light coming from the skull, and they still looked to be in awful pain and fright, but as the flames coming from Selune continued to lessen, they inched closer and closer.

Rarity reached into her cloak and pulled out the Queen of Fey’s silver symbol. One last huzzah Rarity thought to herself, quoting the Queen from her last encounter with the mysterious archfey. Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any. She pointed the snowflake at Spike and Discord’s walking corpses.

“Destroy!” she shouted, shaking the pendant at them. “Come on, work! Destroy!”

From the Fey symbol came a beam of yellow light that shot towards her undead friends. Rarity’s anticipation when the little light show had ended quickly turned to disappointment as Spike and Discord continued forward completely unscathed, and the only noticeable change resulting from the spell was that there was now a small glowing bead on the floor sitting between them and the skull with Selune’s spirit. The warmth of the pendant soon vanished, leaving the silver cold and dull as its shine faded as well.

There was no time to dwell on the lost warmth and luster or wonder how or why the Queen of Fey’s magic failed the moment she needed it most as a loud cracking sound, like that of breaking glass or porcelain turned Rarity’s attention back to her current assailant. Fractures were rapidly forming in her shield, and the image shattered into several hundred tiny shards of light before Rarity could react. The fragments harmlessly disappeared before they could fall upon her, but the same could not be said about the massive blade that was headed right towards her. The clashing sound of metal meeting metal echoed through the room as Rarity lifted her dagger just in time to block the blow. The two blades were locked together as the dark knight, rather than pulling back and attempting another swing, continued to press down his sword onto Rarity’s as if in order to cleave right through the thinner blade. The added strength from her potion made the struggle more of a fair contest, but with the knight’s magic, the heft of the sword, gravity, and the knight’s own physical power all working against her, Rarity wasn’t sure just how more she could withstand.

The moans coming from Spike and Discord were getting closer, but Rarity could barely spare them more than a quick glance as she struggled to push back against the heavy broadsword. At this point, all she could do was grit her teeth and watch helplessly as the two shambled closer and closer. Even calling out and demanding them to stop was currently beyond her means, for all the good that would do.

She watched as Discord lifted his cloven foot and brought it down on the little bead that the last bit of Rarity’s borrowed Fey magic had produced. Then, with a mighty roar, both Discord and Spike were lost inside a fiery explosion so great that Rarity could feel its heat from her position.

The knight above her must have felt it as well as the weight upon Rarity faltered. Seeing the chance she needed, Rarity tilted her blade, causing the knight’s own to shift and slip and tap its tip on the ground. Rarity then ran her dagger right along the length of the great sword, scrapping against its edge as she used it like a ramp that led right to her opponent’s face. She slammed the point of her dagger into the bottom of the knight’s chin where his helmet provided only a thin layer of padding for protection, and as she continued to pull her blade upward, she knocked off the helmet and slashed at the exposed fur and flesh underneath.

Without his metal headgear getting in the way and muffling the sound, the knight’s pained cry came out loud and clear. His weapon fell to the floor as the magical hold over it’s handle winked out. The knight stumbled back and grabbed at the wound he had just received, but Rarity wasted no time in admiring her own handiwork and instead drove a hind hoof right into the space between the knight’s back legs. The tanned cloth lining over the area absorbed much of the blow, but what little force that did get through still brought the stallion low as he doubled over and groaned, giving Rarity the time she needed to sprung to her feet and dashed over to Selune. Black soot, residues of the spontaneous combustion, covered the once white skull, and she gave it a quick wipe before picking it up.

“Lady Selune? Are you alright?”

The image of the Moonmaiden flickered into view, and when the alicorn spoke, there was a noisy buzz layered over her voice that made it difficult for her to be understood. “—fine, but—not—over. Don’t—down.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Selune’s form shook its head, and she pointed Rarity to the two mounds in front of them that were caked in ash. It took a little bit of squinting, but Rarity saw that one of the mounds was the partially charred body of Discord, the glow in his eyes gone, and in the lights’ place there was a black X over each eye, bold enough that it could been seen even with all that ash in the way. The draconequus’s body was lain on its back with his claw and paw folded over his chest and his tongue rolling out of his open mouth in an exaggerated and comedic fashion that was contradictorily both inappropriate considering the circumstances and yet suited the spirit of chaos almost perfectly. Really, Rarity should not have been so surprised to see that Discord couldn’t even take his own death seriously.

Her attention went to the other mound as it started to stirred. Clumps of ash flaked off Spike’s scales as he struggled to rise and was barely able to lift his head. Spike’s eyes which were still glowing with that pale green color turned to Rarity, and he let out a moan and weakly clawed at the air in her direction.

“Don’t let your guard down. It’s not over yet,” Selune spoke up, her voice understandable again now that the static overlay subsided. Her ghostly figure gestured to the dagger in Rarity’s grip. “You cannot hesitate. If you wish to save your friend, you must finish off his ghoul, now!”

Rarity’s jaw clenched tightly as she turned to face the little dragon crawling in the soot. She set Selune down beside Discord’s body, still smoking from the blast of fire, along with the scroll that had the resurrection spell inscribed upon it, then walked over to Spike who continued to growl and reach ineffectually toward her.

They were now close enough that Spike could grab onto her leg, but his grip was so weak that Rarity escaped with a simple shake of her hoof. She raised her weapon and looked down at the pitiful sight that Ponyville’s resident dragon, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s number one assistant, and most of all, her beloved and precious friend, was reduced to.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and sank the dagger into the back of Spike’s neck, the tip of the blade finding its way between his tough scales. Rarity’s entire body convulsed and her stomach violently churned as she felt Spike twitch beneath her before he went completely still. Swallowing back the rising bile, Rarity pulled her dagger free and forced herself to look down. Like with Discord, Spike’s eyes were no longer emitting that eerie light, and there were Xs drawn on their closed lids instead. She gulped down several breaths to calm herself and looked to Selune.

“Can you bring the both of them back now?”

The projection of Selune lowered its horn to the spell scroll, causing the ribbon to untie itself, the wax seal to melt away, and the parchment to unroll and light up as the eye sockets of skull next to it glowed as well. “It will take a few seconds before the spell starts having an effect,” she said. “You will have to protect me until then.”

Selune’s chants began to fill the room, the incantations all in that alien, musical language. The dust settling on and around the bodies of Spike and Discord were glittering in the beams of light that shined upon them from up above, but the sound of heavy breathing and a sharp tap from behind her was more important, and Rarity reluctantly turned away to face the source of the noise.

The knight she had been locked in combat only moments prior was now standjng before her, leaning against his sword for support. Without his helmet in the way and with her now having the time to spare a glance, Rarity could see that the stallion was of a lightly subdued shade of red, neither too bright nor too dull. His untidy mane, through which a pointed spiraling horn stuck out of, was a darker blond that was perhaps leaning into orange, and his eyes had an odd cloudiness to them that took away from their natural green color.

Rarity had to admit, the face before her was certainly a handsome one, even with the mark Rarity left when she had removed his helmet. Sculpted muscles hardened almost every inch of his face, giving him this rugged, powerful look, but there was also something about his features, from the structure and shape to its color, that seemed weirdly familiar. It was when she noticed the set of little white freckles under his eye, the same sort of spots that she had seen so often whenever Applejack’s face happened to come into her view, that it all finally clicked for Rarity.

“Big McIntosh?” she said, her eyes wider than ever from the shocking revelation. She rubbed at her eyes. It couldn’t be, the stallion here was a unicorn after all, but the more she stared, the more certain she was of the stallion’s identity. The resemblance was too uncanny to have simply been a series of coincidental similarities or to chalk up to a trick of her memory, everything just matched up too perfectly, but what was the eldest Apple sibling doing here and why? Did that mean that Applejack was here too? How was it that he now had a magical horn and she was without her own? All this and more Rarity wanted to ask, but as the magic glow returned around the sword’s handle and he pointed the blade’s tip at her, it didn’t seem like Big Mac was in any mood to be answering questions.

She quickly glanced over to the two bodies behind her. Selune’s chants continued throughout the throne room, and the light coming from the scroll, the skull, and the bodies gradually grew brighter, but there was still no sign of life coming from either Spike or Discord. Rarity exhaled and readied her dagger as she stared down the larger pony in front of her.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, Big McIntosh,” she said, her voice low and tone as hard as steel as the workhorse took a step forward, “but unless you wish to get hurt, stand down.” Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “I’d hate to have dear Applejack all overworked from the farm again just because you‘re too busy recovering to do your share.”

Big Mac paused and cocked his head to a side, seemingly giving Rarity’s ultimatum its due consideration, at least for a second or so before speaking his first word to her:

“Nope.”

And with that characteristically concise declaration made, he bolted toward her with his great sword held high above his head, their deadly dance beginning anew as Big McIntosh would swing ferociously, and Rarity would get out of the blade’s path. Despite her earlier bravado, Rarity’s own attacks were few and far between, partially due to her unwillingness to risk dealing any real lasting or potentially life threatening damage and partially because it just seemed more beneficial to her to spend her energy dodging rather than trying to stab through Big McIntosh’s armor. After all, her goal here wasn’t to defeat Big Mac or even to tire him out but to keep him occupied and buy Selune time to complete her spell. Whatever was driving the normally calm and collected farmer to act out in such a violent manner, Rarity was sure the three of them together, she, Spike, and Discord, four if you counted Selune, would be able to set him straight, especially since the one with nigh infinite power at his talon tips also happened to have a knack for messing with personalities.

A sound strategy, and for a while, the execution of her plan went smoothly. The fickleness of fortune soon struck, however, as one particularly daring move, perhaps one that was somewhat riskier than any she had attempted previously as a result of her gradually growing confidence, brought Rarity right in the way of a chanced backswing and left her with very little time to react. All she could do at this point was to turn slightly so that the flat surface of Big Mac’s massive blade slammed into her side instead of somewhere more vital. It might not have been the cleanest of hits nor did it have the fullest of force behind it, but from such a heavy weapon the impact still sent Rarity soaring through the air until she crashed into the wall and dropped to the floor with a thud and a cry.

Her struck side was sore but far less than Rarity had anticipated, and that discomfort lost to the pain that came from the back to back collisions with the wall and ground. As Rarity slowly climbed to her feet, drawing in short breaths through her teeth to keep herself steady and shaking the numbness from her limbs, she saw why that was that had been the case. Scattered on the floor around her were a number of unlit torches, some broken preserved nutrition bars and bits of trail mix, glass vials, one of which had shattered and its pieces now in a small pool of red liquid, and an empty tinderbox as it’s contents had been spilt onto the ground along with the rest of Rarity’s gear. Her saddlebags must have gotten between Rarity and Big Mac’s sword and softened the blow, a theory supported by a quick peek at what shredded fabric remained of the satchel on her side.

Seeing that he had landed his first big hit, Big McIntosh stepped toward the battered Rarity but paused after only a couple of steps and turned instead to the chanting and glowing skull some distance to her side. Whether it had been the mysteriously angelic, musical voice that caught his attention or the suspicious and ever brightening light coming from the unrolled parchment and the two bodies, Big Mac redirected his warpath toward Selune instead. Dread over the spell being interrupted or worse filled Rarity with adrenaline that allowed her to pushed past the pain as she forced herself forward, but her panicked rush across a surface slick with potion came to a crashing halt when something caught between her hoof and the floor, causing Rarity to slip and fall.

The room became silent, Selune’s chanting having come to a short and rather abrupt end. Rarity raised her head in time to watch the large stallion rear up and to share a look with the image of the alicorn. Their gazes met briefly before Selune closed her eyes and bowed her head, just as Big McIntosh’s hooves started to drop.

“No!” Rarity screamed, but there was nothing she could do from her position to prevent Big McIntosh’s heavy hooves from smashing the skull to smithereens. A long, tired, and yet strangely satisfied sigh rang out through the room as the spirit of the Moonmaiden disappeared, and the light that had been coming from the scroll and Spike and Discord was quickly fading too. Rarity’s heart found its way to the back of her throat as she stared at the bodies of her friends and at the scroll, waiting to see if the spell of resurrection had been successfully completed.

The seconds felt like agonizing hours to Rarity, and each second where there was no observable development piled on more stress and worry that tipped her further into despair. Then, a twitch! It happened so quickly, Rarity couldn’t be sure she hadn’t simply imagined seeing Discord’s scaly leg jerk out of desperation, but there was more movement now to ascertained as Spike’s claws clenched into a fist, as Discord’s toes awoke and wiggled, rejuvenating that dwindling supply of hope with renewed relief. There was no mistaking the sight of their chests slowly rising and falling, the corpses were miraculously drawing breath once more, and from her vantage point, Rarity could see that though Discord‘s eyes remained shut, their lids were free of the crosses that had appeared over them.

Rarity‘s relieved sigh barely made it past her lips when Big McIntosh stepped into her view and cut her celebratory mood short. Standing over the stirring body of Spike, he stared down blankly at the now breathing dragon, and without a word or change in his expression, he raised his sword. By this point, Rarity had gotten back up, but the distance between them and her was too great, and there was just no way of getting to Spike in time to prevent the advance of Big Mac’s sword. Rarity frantically searched the floor in order to find something to throw at the farmer turned enforcer. She’d prefer her dagger which had fallen out of her hold when she tripped, but if it could distract Big McIntosh long enough for her to reach them, anything would do.

The first thing Rarity’s hooves managed to find was the rounded object that had gotten underfoot and caused her to fall in the first place, which she discovered to be the horn of Halaster. It was hardly the most ideal projectile, but as she picked up the primitive instrument and tested its weight, the memory of Elkraps’s observations in regards to the trumpet’s properties came to the forefront of Rarity’s thoughts. The dullness in Big McIntosh’s eyes, the vacant look on his face, the fact that he seemed so bent on harming his friends in accordance to will of some evil magic cephalopod. It was an assumption, but it was all Rarity had time to work with as she placed the horn’s mouthpiece to her lips, pointed its conical bell at Big Mac, and blew.

What escaped the horn was forceful, raucous, like the pained yowl of cat with their tail caught by a closed door muffled by a paper bag. It was the kind of sound one would expect out of somepony who had absolute no experience in playing wind musical instruments, and most importantly, it gave Big McIntosh pause. The runes on the choker around his faded, the sword clattered on the ground as the stallion released his hold over it, and he shook his head and groaned, holding his front hooves up to his head. When he put his forelegs down, Rarity saw that those green eyes of his were now clear as day, their vibrant shine no longer being blocked by the previous cloudiness.

“Big McIntosh?” Rarity ventured, taking a cautious step toward him and Spike. “Are you feeling better? Any less, hmm, murderous perhaps?”

Confusion flashed over Big Mac’s features momentarily before recognition and relief took over. He gave Rarity a weak grin and nodded. “Eey—“

There was a burst of light, and Big Mac stumbled a couple of steps toward Rarity with a grunt before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed in a heap. Steam drifted up from the back of Big Mac’s head, and Rarity could spot a dark bruise and some swelling there as well. His breathing was shallow and weak, but the stallion’s current state wasn’t her only concern, nor was Rarity so certain that it was her most pressing one, for standing right before her was the Squid Wizard, still dressed in that stage magician’s costume. With him was a pair of armed skeletons, one bony pony on each of his sides, and in one of his many tentacle he held up a wand, its tip glowing as he pointed it at her.

47. Last Orders at the Yawning Portal

Last Orders at the Yawning Portal

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” the Squid Wizard said in that awful squeaky, posh voice of his. “To think, I spent all that time, money, and labor in order to track you down and return you to me, and here you are, back in my throne room on your own accord.” Several of his free tentacles swayed in the air as the rest of the Squidzard’s body bobbed from his high-pitched, snorted chuckle, but the appendage wrapped around the wand kept the glowing rod steady and directed at Rarity. “I’m surprised to see something so reckless from you, Princess, I honestly expected better. Mind you, I would have found you one way or another, and any attempts to stay hidden would have only delayed the inevitable. Shame, but at the the very least you could have enjoyed your freedom for a little while longer.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed into a glare, and she stared to move toward the Squid Wizard but stopped when he jabbed his wand at her and his skeletal guards stepped up with their pole arms out and ready. “Hmph! If you truly thought I would just run and hide and leave my friends in the clutches of some uppity overgrown squid who knows a couple of magic tricks, then you really don’t know me at all.”

Almost as if to emphasize her point, there was a groan from Discord, which got every creature’s attention and caused everyone to turn toward him and Spike. The two were in the process of sitting up, rubbing at their faces and shaking their heads, murmuring and grumbling like they had just woken up the morning that followed a long night of partying with Pinkie Pie. Rarity looked back to the Squid Wizard and saw that both of those brushy eyebrows had shot up almost to the tip of his elongated head and that his already gigantic eyes had widened and taken up even more space of his face.

The Squid Wizard soon recovered from his shock with a forceful cough. “Ahem, well, yes, it does seem that in the wake of your untimely arrival, you have caused us quite a spot of trouble. First the prisoners’ rioting—“ A loud crash and distant screams rang out from elsewhere in the keep. “—and now I see that you’ve undone all my hard work on these blasted heroes of yours. No matter, there’ll be plenty of time to learn just how you managed to do all this once all this madness is resolved and the instigators are properly punished. But first,” he said, moving the wand away from Rarity and pointing it at Spike instead, “let’s take care of these heroes you’re so worried about.”

He waved the rod with a flourish, and out from its tip came three tiny balls of light. The glowing balls orbited around the wand for a brief moment before they suddenly all rocketed toward Spike. With no time to spare for a second thought, Rarity threw herself over the dragon’s vulnerable body and stiffened as she braced for the magic missiles headed straight toward her and Spike. Two of the orbs circled right around Rarity to reach their original target, eliciting a gasp from Spike as he was struck in both his sides, but the third vanished with a flash.

When Rarity opened her eyes, she found that there was a translucent barrier that stood between her and the Squid Wizard. Unlike the shield that her magic anklet had produced, of which Rarity noted remained dim and completely still, its daily charge having been spent, the glow of this new barrier was a light blue that felt strangely familiar to her, and the image was of a multifaceted diamond, big, bright, and brilliantly blue, like those of Rarity’s Cutie Mark.

The Squid Wizard’s tentacles waved angrily as he let out an enraged sound that was something between a squawk and a whine. More bolts of magic flew out of his wand, this time all aimed at her, but each one was intercepted by the appearance of additional diamonds, all sparkling like stars on a clear evening sky as the bolts bounced off their surfaces and disappeared. Now that the danger had seemingly passed, Rarity slowly lowered the foreleg that she had instinctively raised, and as she did so, she felt an odd tingling sensation that started at the end of her hoof and traveled up her leg and rippled all through her body. Perplexed and more than a little concerned, Rarity lifted a shaky hoof to check it. She wasn’t exactly sure what she expected to find, but dancing sparks and minuscule streaks of lightning coming out of her hoof as the fur around it stood straight up was definitely closer to the bottom of that list.

“No no no no!” screamed the squid, pulling Rarity’s focus back to him. His purple skin had turned a bright red, and his increasingly bulging eyes threatened to pop out and escape. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go down at all!” The Squid Wizard motioned to his skeletons. “What are you boneheads waiting for? Take her down, now!”

The two skeletons took their first steps just as Rarity’s front legs started to grow numb from that prickling feeling. Her entire body shook violently, and she was hit with a wave of nausea coupled by a twisting in her guts as all of a sudden the silver pedant around her neck started to burn. The urge to vomit soon became too much, and she bent over to retch, but instead of spit and the contents of her stomach, streams of purple electricity spewed out of Rarity mouth and made their way to the osseous minions and their master, striking them with a loud zap.

The whole world flash before Rarity, forcing her to squint as the lightning coursed through the trio in front of her for some several seconds. The tingle in Rarity’s body faded and the Queen of Fey’s symbol cooled when the electrical discharge finally ended, which left the scent of burnt air to linger and assault her nostrils. Both skeletons had collapsed into unmoving heaps of scorched bones, and the Squid Wizard barely looked any better. The sudden jolt had left his cape and hat seared and torn, and a number of his tentacles were either crooked and bent out of shape or limp on the floor. Scorch marks and lines marred his once smooth skin, and he appeared to be having trouble keeping both eyes open, with one of his eyes swollen and heavy with crust buildup. The hair of both his brows had completely burned away, and all that was left were two ashy outlines, raised and slanted, leaving him forever stuck in an expression of awe and shock.

The Squid Wizard’s one good eye remained fixated on Rarity as he forced himself forward and limped on toward her. He held on to his magic wand even as his tentacle wavered and appeared to struggle with what weight the thin little stick had. Slowly, he lifted the wand, but before he could finish bringing it level to Rarity and point it at her, a dart of flame flew by and smacked the baton out of the Squid Wizard’s grasp, inciting a yelp from him as he leapt back.

Rarity looked behind her, to where the fire bolt had come from, and standing there on his own two feet, his green eyes gleaming with life, was Spike. Discord stood next to him with a smirk on his face as he waved around the dagger Rarity had dropped, and on Spike’s other side stepped up Big McIntosh who wiped a foreleg across his lips, the empty potion vial still clasped in his hoof, before lighting up his horn and magically lifting his sword.

The Squid Wizard glared and hissed at the gathered group that stood against him, but with him being so visibly injured and so solely outnumbered, there was no bite to his bark. “Bah!” he exclaimed after seeing that no creature here was intimidated. “You and your heroes may have won the battle, Princess Shmarity, but the war is far from over. Prepare yourself, for my influence over Spiketopia is still strong, and you will not be able to undo it so easily. Soon, these lands will all be mine!”

He grabbed his hat and flung it at Rarity’s feet. The moment the cone shaped headgear hit the ground, smoke billowed out of it, quickly creating a thick screen that hid the Squid Wizard from view as the smoke shrouded over him. It didn’t take long for the cloud dissipated, but by the time it did and they had finished coughing, Rarity saw that the squid had vanished as well, leaving behind the two charred and dismantled skeletons and the echoes of his crazed crackling laugh ringing far through the keep.

“Let me see if I’ve understood everything correctly...”

The dark stones and decor of the Squid Wizard’s throne room were gone, and around them were instead the crystalline walls that made up Princess Twilight Sparkle’s castle. They found themselves all before the large circular table that occasionally doubled as a topographical display of Equestria and its surrounding lands whenever there was a friendship problem out there that needed solving. At the moment, the map was inactive, and in the place of mountains and settlements and other landmarks there were open bags of junk food, empty cans of soft drinks, and a few books with covers that depicted cartoonish monsters and adventuring heroes.

Scatter about the table was also a collection of colorful dice, large in both number and variety. A good portion were your typical six-faced ones, the kind you could find in just about any popular board game, but there were many more with an increased number of sides, from eight to ten to twelve and finally all the way to twenty. Rarity even spotted a few odd tetrahedrons in the bunch as well as a number of paper cutouts with amateurish doodles of characters upon them. Amongst the caricatures of skeletons and brutish looking thugs and yes, the squid in the flashy cape and hat, Rarity found Discord and his ridiculous locks of blond hair, Big Mac in dark armor and a helmet with curved ram horns, Spike in those wizard robes and beard, and even a drawing of herself wearing that gaudy pink and puffy dress she had woken up in so long ago.

The models of three of those particular miniatures sat across from Rarity, stripped of their costumes when they were brought here at the snap of Discord’s claw, as had Rarity of her own gear. Their features showed differing degrees of exhaustion and, in the case of Spike and Big McIntosh, embarrassment while Discord carried himself with a familiar air of smugness and slight annoyance as he leaned back in the seat normally reserved for Twilight.

“...while we were out on a mission, the three of you were playing this, Ogres and Oubliettes game, was it? Which was, shall we say, ‘enhanced’ by Discord’s magic to the point where when you perished in the game, you ceased to be outside of it.”

“Eh.” Discord waved his paw side to side before he returned to filing down his claws with a vegetable peeler. “More like we were all stuck in an in-between limbo state while our essences were trapped inside the game. Ah, well, except for Big Mac over there who just failed his saving throw against a domination spell, which pretty much boils down to the same results.”

“Eeyup,” the farmer huffed, and with his forelegs folded across his chest, he glared down at the table, though whether he was scowling at the picture of the Squid Wizard or, bizarrely, the red twenty-sided die next to it, Rarity couldn’t be sure.

“Right, fine, so because of Discord’s magic, the three of you ended up incapacitated and couldn’t leave the game, and the only way for you to escape was if the characters you were playing were brought back to life. And the reason you dragged me, and me alone, into this mess to try and revive you all was because there was this Princess Shmarity character in the game whom I could take the place of.” Rarity gestured to drawing of the mare in the pink dress.

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Discord answered with a smirk as he checked the work on his talons and Spike and Big McIntosh collaborated with nods and subdued affirmations. “I mean, you really only had to bring me back to life, and I’d have done the rest, but this is fine too.” He tossed the peeler over his shoulder where it exploded against the wall into confetti, and when he looked up, Rarity saw that the draconequus’ eyelashes had extended, which he fluttered them in the direction of Spike. “I’m not sure everything would’ve worked as well if we tried bringing in someone who wasn’t already part of the story, so thank goodness for Spike’s thinly veiled romantic delusions.”

Spike slouched down in an attempt to hide his blush, but Rarity was too busy staring at Discord with a stony frown on her face to give notice. Eventually, the draconequus sighed and turned to her. “You know, I get the odd feeling that despite demonstrating that you’ve clearly got a solid grasp of the situation, you still have questions.”

“Several actually,” Rarity said, “though I suppose I could sum up a good deal of them with a simple ‘why.’ For instance, Discord, with all the magic I’ve seen at your disposal, I don’t understand why you couldn’t just return everypony to the real world in the first place the moment things got too dangerous. Or was it because?” Rarity’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze was pointed to not just Discord, but also Spike and Big McIntosh. “Please don’t tell me this whole ordeal was due to some silly display of machismo. As if Rainbow Dash and Applejack weren’t bad enough.”

Spike quickly shook his head. “It wasn’t anything like that,” he said. “None of us knew what was going to happen, these were our first character deaths since Discord joined up, and I’m sure he would’ve stopped the session the second he knew something was wrong if he hadn’t been the first to bite it. Um, well, probably.” Spike shot Discord a quick glance that looked just about as confident as he had sounded before he winced and gave his head another shake. “I mean, it was still kind of his fault. This never would have happened if he hadn’t rushed in like that without thinking. Seriously, that treasure chest had trap written all over it.”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac, nodding in agreement. “Could’ve seen it a mile away.”

“And I say it’s what Captain Wuzz would have done,” Discord contended with a huff and a tilt of his nose up into the air, and after a couple of short moments, he lowered his head to return his attention to Rarity. “Anyways, once I’d, you know—“ Discord made a slashing motion over his throat, and for a second, black Xs blotted out his eyes. “—there wasn’t a whole lot I could do, outside of coming up with someone to help guide you along and push you in the right direction, and even then, once the Queen of Fey came into existence, a lot of what they did was out of my control.”

“Is that really all it took?” Rarity’s expression was an incredulous one, her brow furrowing as she regarded the spirit of chaos with pursed lips. “A trapped treasure chest? You’ll forgive me if I find that difficult to swallow, considering how powerful you’ve shown yourself to be.”

Discord let out a chuckle. “Yes, I know, my powers are pretty great. And sure, I could’ve walked away from that poisonous acidic gas explosion without so much as a scratch,” he scoffed, haughtily brushing the knuckles of his paw against his chest, “but Captain Wuzz only has so many hit points, and he unfortunately doesn’t have access to my any of awesome abilities.”

“So you just, let yourself die? Why?”

“Uh, because otherwise that’d be cheating,” Discord said, his tone so very condescending, as if what he was describing was the most obvious thing in the world. “Rarity, I’m a lot of things, but the one thing I’m not is a cheater, especially it comes to O and O.”

Rarity looked to Spike and Big Mac, her doubt unmistakable, and to her surprise, the two nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, believe it or not, Discord’s been pretty good about following the rules,” said Spike. “All he does to add to it is make the game come to life.”

“That’s all it needs, really. Game gets plenty chaotic without my influence,” Discord said with a shrug. “Though I guess I should probably add a failsafe that’ll let me regain control of everything in case something like this ever occurs again,” he added after a slight pause and with a hint of reluctance in his voice.

“You guess? Probably?”

Under Rarity’s glare along with the troubled glances from Spike and Big McIntosh, Discord tossed his arms up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure dying in the game doesn’t carry over into our world,” he grumbled. “I just figured we might want to leave it in to give us some extra incentive to be more careful with our characters, but no, a consequence free fantasy world it is.”

Big Mac cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Rarity,” he said, “but if you wouldn’t mind wrapping your questions up? I should be getting home, got some work on the farm to take care of first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, it is getting pretty late, isn’t it?” Discord pulled out a pocket watch, and upon flipping the lid open, out popped a bird attached to a spring that cooed loudly each time it sprung up. “A bit of a long night too, seeing how much we had to pack into it.”

The mention of time and her watching of Discord, Spike, and Big Mac all stretch and yawn sent a wave of weariness crashing over Rarity, and as she tried fight off her sudden exhaustion, shaking herself furiously to keep her head clear, she couldn’t help but to add her own dainty yawn to the choir. It was a huge relief to learn that she hadn’t spent well over a month away from her home, friends, and family, that she wasn’t returning to a horribly out-of-fashion fashion franchise or to an overly overweight cat courtesy of Sweetie Belle’s care, but at the same time, coming to terms that that entire epic adventure, from the initial road trip to Baldursgait and her extended stay at Horshire to those long weeks out at sea to her time at the schools of magic, had somehow been condensed into a single night of real time made Rarity’s head spin. Truthfully, there was nothing more she wanted right now than to go home and finally sleep in her own bed, but she just had one last question to present before she was ready to leave.

“And the three of you are sure you’re all alright?” she asked, looking to Discord, then to Big McIntosh, and finally to Spike. “That there aren’t any lasting effects from the whole, dying and then being turned into a zombie experience? Or from the hypnotism?” Rarity added in regards to Big McIntosh.

Spike and Big Mac answered no with a gesture of their heads while Discord waved away Rarity’s concerns dismissively. “Yes, yes, no new traumas or additional mental scarring or need for group therapy, as fun as it might be to see how long a shrink could last with me.” He took a moment to stroke his beard before continuing. “It’s all simulated, pretend, no more dangerous than reading a book or watching a stage production or playing at an arcade, so you can rest easy about us and all the looting and killing you had to do. I mean.” Discord waggled his eyebrows, and a kitchen knife appeared on the table right in front of Rarity, illuminated by an unseen spotlight. “You don’t feel like stabbing me right now, do you?”

“What? No, of course not!” Rarity immediately answered, clearly appalled by the notion. Eyes wide, she shoved the knife away from her. “How could you even suggest such a horrid thing?”

“See?” The smug draconequus gestured toward her. “You’re fine. You’re still the same prissy overdramatic mare—“

“Humph.”

“—he’s still the same soft spoken stallion who probably wouldn’t be so soft spoken if he had anything interesting to say—“

“Hey!”

“—he’s still the same really awkward dragon, but I’m going to give him some slack this time around if only because the reason he turned out that way was due to growing up along side Twilight Sparkle the princess of awkwardness herself, and that’s completely out of his control—“

“I, huh.” Spike scratched the back of his head. “Um, okay?”

“—and I still am, and forever will be, the infinitely supreme master of chaos,” Discord finished with an exaggerated sweeping bow. “We’re all perfectly fine, each and every one of us, especially me.”

“And so I don’t have to worry about having to donate my body to a school full of zombie making wizards?”

“Exactly, no worries there. Now if that’s everything, you’ll have to excuse me.” Discord stood up, revealing himself to be wearing a pair of neon yellow jogging shorts and a set of sweatbands, one around each of his wrists and one over his forehead. “I’ve got to run.”

He crouched down into a runner’s set position, then with a loud bang, said supreme master of chaos disappeared.

“Should do the same and head off,” Big McIntosh announced, and he too got out of his chair. “I told Granny I’d might be home a bit late, course now’s probably mite more than just a bit.” He rubbed the back of his head, his grimace indicative of the likely scolding waiting for him back at Sweet Apple Acres. “Guys’ night next week?”

“I’ll have to check Twilight’s schedule, see if she has plans,” Spike said as he started to clean up the mess on the table, stacking the books together, scooping the dice into a box, and gathering all the leftover litter into a large black bag. “I’ll stop by later with the details.”

Big Mac nodded, first to Spike, then to Rarity before bidding the both of them a goodnight before exiting the room. Now that left Rarity with just Spike, who was currently wrestling with the stuffed trash bag in an attempt to seal it shut. Rarity’s horn, back in its proper place atop her head, lit up, and she took the bag and magically tied the edges of the opening together, closing the bag with a neat bow.

“Thanks,” Spike said as he heaved the bag over his shoulder.

“Think nothing of it.” The two made their way through the castle and towards the entrance, following in the hurried footsteps of Big Mac. “Are you sure you’re doing fine? I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but I’d honestly feel better about it hearing it from you rather than from Discord.”

“Me? Yeah, I’m good. Maybe a little tired.” The dragon’s jaw nearly unhinged from the size of the yawn that suddenly overtook him. “Okay, make that really tired,” Spike amended, a slightly pink glow visible from beneath his scales, “but I’ll be fine. It really wasn’t so bad, dying. In game, I mean.” The next couple of seconds passed in silence. “What about you? How are you feeling? I mean, you’re the one who did all the work there saving us. Oh and, uh, thanks by the way for, um, saving us. We were watching, me and Discord, and I know it wasn’t easy.”

“But of course. I wasn’t going to leave my Spikey Wikey in that sorry state, not when there was something I could do about it.” Spike’s blush grew brighter. “And to answer your question, I suppose I’m feeling alright. Tired, yes, but considering everything we just went through, simulated or not, that’s to be expected.”

They had reached the front foyer and pushed past the doors that guarded the entrance. The world outside was still mostly dark, but down over the horizon, the lightest of pinks could be spotted where the sky met the countryside, a sign that Celestia’s sun would be making its ascent in a few hours and all the more reason for Rarity to hurry home and get what sleep she could.

Spike set down the bag and dusted off his claws. “Do you, um, I mean, it’s still kind of late, er, dark. I can walk you home, if you like.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Rarity said, smiling, “but I can make it home on my own. You should head back inside and get to bed before Twilight wakes up. We wouldn’t want to worry her.”

“Oh. Okay.” Spike rubbed the back of his neck as he kicked at the dirt. “Hey, um, Rarity?”

“Hm?”

“I was just, well, wondering. I know it was your first time and all, and with everything that was at stake, there was all that extra stress, not to mention you started out all confused and without any idea of what was going on, and—“

“Spike, darling, breathe.”

Spike took a deep breath. “I just want to ask, and I’d totally understand if you said no, would you be willing to try Ogres and Oubliettes with me again some time? Or, er, with us I mean.”

Rarity gave the request some thought, tapping at her chin as Spike fidgeted nervously. “Hm. Well, I don’t think I’m quite ready for the chaos magic enhanced version, and I wouldn’t want to force my way into Guys’ Night. That wouldn’t be fair to Discord or Big McIntosh, now would it?”

“Oh.” Spike’s face fell. “No, I guess not.”

“That being said, I’d be lying if I said I had no interest in this game after my less than ideal first time. I’m certainly willing to learn more about the game and how to play, and I’m especially curious to where this Princess Shmarity character is headed.” Her smile widened. “Perhaps the two of us can have our own little private sessions where you can better show me how everything works.”

Spike quickly closed his mouth that had fallen open as his eyes had grown large. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Well then, I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Right. Well, um, good night!”

And with that, the two went their separate ways, Spike back into Twilight Sparkle’s castle and Rarity making her way through Ponyville, to the carousel styled structure she called home. There she would find that perfect mattress for her sensitive body, the pillows for her head with the required amount of depth and fluff, and that soft silk comforter she had so painstakingly prepared so that she could enjoy the maximum level of stylish comfort. There Rarity would enjoy the perfect sleep that could only be found from one’s own bed, at least for a few hours before the sounds of morning, of singing birds and the bustling businesses and lively townsfolk, and the sun’s glare became too much.

Author's Note

And with that, we come to the end. Thanks for giving my story a read and sticking through it, and whether you’re a fan of Dungeons and Dragons or not, I hope you found some enjoyment out of it all.

9. Nothing Happens in Elmwood

Nothing Happens in Elmwood

The impossible had occurred.

Despite having spent the night completely exposed to the elements, on a hard surface without the proper coverings, without performing her nightly rituals, Rarity had gotten a complete night’s worth of rest. Her body was a little sore from having slept on the uncomfortable forest floor, sure, but besides that, her body was refreshed and her mind was ready for anything the day had in store. There had been no dreams, no visions, no haunting questions, just a long peaceful slumber that was only now being interrupted by her own bodily needs.

Reluctantly, Rarity forced her eyes open and after blinking and adjusting her eyes to the light streaming through the branches of the trees, she crawled out of her sleeping bag as carefully as possible. Either she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had been or Huntress was a very light sleeper, because Rarity only gotten about halfway out before she was startled by Huntress suddenly sitting up.

The mare squinted through the light as she turned to face Rarity with a questioning look. Her hoof, Rarity noticed, was already around her bow, the string in between her teeth with the arrow already nocked from the previous night. Her ears twitched in the morning breeze, moving in every direction. Slowly, having heard nothing unusual, she relaxed and released the bowstring as she turned to Rarity. “What?” she muttered sleepily.

“Nothing,” Rarity said. She finished removing herself from the sleeping bag. “I just need to powder my nose.”

“Powder your, what?”

“Er, use the little filly’s room.”

This time, Huntress responded with a blank look.

“Do my, ahem, business.” Rarity started to blush. She was running low on polite euphemisms. Hopeful, she’d make her point before having to resort to the Applejack sanctioned ones. “Freshen up?Relieve myself?”

“Hm.” Huntress yawned and lied back down. “Don’t go too far,” she said before turning over.

Rarity got up onto her hooves and after taking a quick moment to brush off some grass, looked around. All that remained of their campfire were ashes, its smoke long since dispersed. With the trees in the way, it was difficult to determine what time it was, and the best she could tell, based on how chilly it was, was that it was early morning. She could probably make a more accurate estimate of the time if she left the forest for a better view of the sky and sun, but that would mean stepping out into the open field, and having to use the toilet in the middle of the forest where her only source of cover and privacy were the trees was bad enough.

It was, without a doubt, the utterly worst part of any camping trip, and no matter how many times she went through the process, Rarity always dreaded having to use nature’s restroom. After putting on her saddlebags and locating the pocket with the rudimentary toiletries, she made some distance from the campsite, far enough to prevent anypony else from hearing her, and went behind the thickest tree she could find.

Once finished and cleaned up, Rarity stepped out and found herself before a light green stallion. The stallion’s mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. Rarity’s cheeks burned, and the stranger took a step back as if repelled by the intensity of Rarity’s glare. “You...”

“Please don’t scream,” the stallion whimpered, throwing up his hooves. “I-I didn’t see nothing, I swear it on my mother’s grave. I-I was just looking for, uh, for help. Please, I don’t want any trouble, miss. I didn’t see nothing. Don’t hurt me, please.”

All that pathetic cowering and crying sapped away much of Rarity’s rage. The stallion before her was young, barely out of colthood, and Rarity noted that his legs were covered in bruises. One of his eyes were black and swollen shut, and the brown tunic he was wearing was torn and falling to pieces. It was hard to stay mad at such a pitiful sight, despite the severity of his potential perverse crime. Rarity let out the rest of her anger with a sigh.

“Well, as long as you saw nothing, and swear that you will never speak of this again—“

“I swear! I swear, I was never here. Never seen you in my life. Nope, there was nothing to see.”

“Er, right,” Rarity said, a little taken back by the young stallion’s eagerness. “Well then, that’s settled. Oh!” She dug through her pack and pulled out the healer’s kit. “What happened to you? Those bruises look awful.”

“Oh, what? These?” The stallion chuckled nervously and took a step back as Rarity approached. “It’s nothing. Just, y’know, uh, tripped. Yeah, on a root.”

“Hold still please,” Rarity instructed as she took out a bottle of salve from the kit. “Let’s get those treated before they get any worse.” Rarity held out her hoof, and after some hesitation, the stallion extended his own, giving her access to the wounds. He winced as she rubbed the cold salve over the black and blue spots. “How’s that?”

The stallion stretched out his limbs. “Better, much better. Can’t thank you enough, miss.”

“There’s not much I can do about your eye, I’m afraid,” Rarity said, looking over the inflicted area with a grimace. “I wouldn’t want to risk causing more damage. You should see an actual doctor about that.”

“Right, right. Sure, but I’ve got to, got to, oh heck.” He ran his hooves through his already messy blue mane and gnashed his teeth, forcing a cautious Rarity back.

“Are you alright? Sir?”

“Oh heck, oh heck. Okay, um, alright.” The stallion took a deep breath. “Miss? I need your help, and I need it bad. My group, they’re in a heap of trouble. Trapped under a log, see? I barely escaped and came here looking for somepony, anypony. I just need another pony to help me lift the log off them. Please.”

“P-p-please stop s-shaking me.”

“O-oh! Sorry, miss.” The stallion immediately let go of her shoulders.

Rarity brushed the dirt off her shoulders. “Right, your friends. Let me just go get my, hm, traveling partner and—“

“No time. I don’t know if they can breath under there,” the stallion said, hopping side to side in panic. “It’s not a big log, it just needs two ponies to move. Please, we have to leave now.”

“Well, if it won’t take long—“

“It won’t. I swear it.”

“Very well, then.” Rarity returned the healer’s kit to its pocket. “Lead on.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you. Please, this way, right this way, miss,” the stallion exclaimed as he broke into a run. Rarity followed after the light green and brown figure ahead of her. They dashed past rows of trees, through piles of dead leaves, deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees gradually became taller and thicker and the canopy above denser.

“Over here, miss!” the stallion would call out every now and again as they ran. “We’re almost there!”

As Rarity started to question what the young stallion considered to be “almost,” a clearing came into view. “Right there!” he yelled, disturbing a couple of birds in the branches above that squawked angrily in response. “We’re coming, guys! We’re almost here!”

Neither of them saw the hoof that smashed itself into the stallion’s face extend from behind a tree. With a gasp, Rarity rushed forward toward the fallen pony, and found herself face to face with a much larger stallion standing over the one she befriended.

“What’re you doing here?” the larger one growled at the smaller one. Scars ran right across his face, from forehead to chin, and part of his lower lip was gone. Chunks of fur were missing from his coat, leaving several bald patches. His mane and tail were both cut short and messily, as if dressed by the massive axe, appropriate for the stallion’s size, leaned against his broad shoulder. “Thought we told you what would happen if you came back empty-hooved.”

“B-but I didn’t come back empty-hooved.” The young stallion pointed a shaky hoof at Rarity.

The larger stallion looked up and blinked. “Well, how about that.” The sneer he put on sickened her. “What do we have here? That’s quite a find.”

“Then, then I did good? I did good, right?”

“Well, Runt, we’ll have to talk to the boss first. But yeah.” The young stallion winced as the other slammed a hoof into his back. “I reckon you did good. Didn’t think you had it in you. Now.” He turned to Rarity. “Why don’t you step a closer here, miss? I want a better look at you.”

Rarity slowly inched back. Something flew past her head and struck a tree behind her, showering her with bark. She turned and found an axe, smaller than the one over the large stallion’s shoulders, buried into the trunk.

The large stallion sighed. “And bring that back with you, will you?”

Another throwing axe was in his hoof. The message was clear, and after some struggling, Rarity managed to retrieve the thrown axe from the tree and slowly dragged it back to its owner. With a grin that revealed several gaps in his teeth, he put the smaller axes away and stabbed the handle of his main one into the dirt.

“The boss is going to want to see the both of you. Better hope he’s gotten enough beauty sleep, otherwise there’s going to be another beating.” The younger stallion shook at the larger’s guffaws and tried to join in nervously. He ended those weak attempts when he saw Rarity looking at him and quickly turned away. “Come on then.” The larger stallion pointed toward the clearing’s center. “Ladies first.”

The mighty axe did nothing to quell the indignant harrumph Rarity made as she passed by. The brute was dangerous, sure, but she had experience in handling brutes and was confident that, given a little time, she would be able to deal with him. No, a lack of manners and some testosterone poisoning were manageable, it was the younger pony Rarity was having trouble with. It wasn’t the first time somepony repaid her generosity with heartbreak, but it never stung any less.

“Why did you lie to me?”

The stallion kept his gaze pointed straight ahead to avoid meeting Rarity’s. They continued in silence and soon reached a ring of tents. A The larger stallion stepped forward and yelled out. The tents stirred, and after a couple of moments, more gruff and dirty ponies appeared, groggily stepping out of their makeshift shelters with groans and swears.

“Oi, the heck is it?” somepony said. “Ain’t my shift, so why are you bothering me?” Others grumbled in agreement.

“Thought the whole gang might want to see this,” said the stallion with the axe. He looked around the camp and over the crowd. “Where’s the boss?”

“Right here, wondering where to stab you.” The crowd parted, revealing a stallion wearing a wrinkled dress jacket that was obviously just thrown on without any care. It may have been a regal purple once upon a time, but after what Rarity estimated to be years of neglect and rough living, much of the color had faded. A stained dress shirt with a ruffled collar could be seen under the jacket, through a section of the jacket that was clearly missing a button. A horn stuck out from beneath the dusty tricorn he wore, and over one eye was a black eyepatch. A messy bush of a beard covered a significant portion of his face. “I’d be open to suggestions if I weren’t so sodding tired, so you’ve got ten seconds to explain, Axe-for-Brains, why you’ve abandoned your post and interrupted my beauty sleep before I just go for your eyes.”

“Well, boss, guess who came crawling back?” Axe-for-Brains, if that was his real name, shoved the younger stallion forward who stumbled and fell flat on his face, drawing laughs from the gathered audience. “And look here, he’s brought us a little gift.”

Rarity’s knees buckled at the sudden weight as the large stallion clapped a large foreleg around her shoulders. “Excuse me?” she exclaimed, ducking away from his grasp. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to touch me. Let’s not get too familiar.”

“Oh ho,” somepony chortled. “This one’s a feisty little thing.”

“Hey, might be nice to finally have something with a little bit of life in them, eh?” yelled out another. The whole congregation laughed.

Rarity gave her most disapproving frown, but the crowd of ruffians was not deterred. She turned to the gang’s apparent boss who was looking over her with a smirk barely visible under that beard he was stroking as he completed his examination.

“Is this how you run things?” she asked him. “Just letting your subordinates say and do as they like? Because, if I have to be honest, this is seriously coloring my opinion of you and your leadership.”

The dandy’s one good eye blinked. In a short split second, his grin became a frown only to be restored with new humor. The transition did not go unnoticed however, and Rarity, knowing that her statement had gotten under the skin of the gang leader, had to resist the urge to smile back.

“Ah, how right you are, my lady,” he said, removing his hat and sweeping into a boisterous, exaggerated bow. “Pardon my boys. They’re of common birth, and not exactly used to being before a lady such as yourself. Though,” the dressed up stallion added with a chuckle, “you can’t blame them and their ignorance entirely. After all, how were we to know that mare of beauty and refinement had honored us with her presence when she has hidden her grace under such rags?”

There were some snickers as the gang’s leader gestured to Rarity and her drab traveler’s cloak. Rarity sniffed and lifted her nose, tossing back her mane. “Perhaps not the most fashionable, I’ll admit, but it is certainly a great deal more practical for the wilderness than their mother’s finery.”

She made her own motion toward the stallion’s attire. Again, his smile wavered, but it quickly recovered and grew into a sneer. “Well, one must always strive to look their best, least they find themselves underdressed before their betters.”

“And yet, here you stand, as you are.”

The fop of a stallion hesitated. “Er, yes. Right. Well.” He cleared his throat and tugged at the ruffles of his collar. “Yes, well, please allow me the privilege of showing you the hospitality worthy a mare such as you. Lads, show our new friend to the guest suite.”

The gang mimic its leader and stepped to the side, creating a path that led to a large wooden cage on top of a wagon. There were other occupants, three by Rarity’s count, all huddled in the farthest corner.

“I’m afraid I must decline,” Rarity said, taking a step back. “My traveling companion, or rather, companions, must be waking up, and I’d hate to keep them waiting and worrying. Perhaps another—“

A large body blocked her path. Others pressed against her sides. Rarity took note of the sudden glister of blades that were suddenly exposed. The gang’s leader himself, with his hat back on, was brandishing a thin rapier in one hoof and holding up a dagger in the air with his magic.

“Oh but we insist. And you’ll be leaving those saddlebags of yours with us. I believe it is customary for guests to bring gifts, is it not?” His face suddenly twisted into snarl, throwing away all sense of affability. “I’m not asking a second time. Give up the bags and get in the cage, before I have to carve up that pretty face.”

Outnumbered and, in the physical and martial sense, outmatched and without any avenue of escape, Rarity surrendered her saddlebags to the closest thug and allowed herself to be led to the cage. The other prisoners pressed themselves against the opposite bars as the sneering bandits unlocked the cage’s gate and shoved Rarity in.

“Honesty, there’s no need for roughness,” Rarity said with a humph as the opening was closed and secured. The ruffians merely laughed before returning to their places in the crowd.

“Now,” their leader was saying, his features returning to their earlier smug state as he approached the cage. One of the other prisoners whimpered as they tried to keep as much distance between them and the bandits as the cage allowed. All Rarity could do was maintain eye contact while the foppish stallion came forward, presenting the confiscated bags like a trophy. “Why don’t we see what—“

“Uh, boss?”

The gang boss sighed and turned to face the young stallion who had gotten Rarity into this whole mess. Slowly, nervously, the youngster approached, rubbing his hooves together. “Just wondering, you know, cause I, um, got her here—“

“Spit it out, Runt.”

‘Runt’ flinched. “I just figured, I’d get first dibs. I mean, I did good, right? I should be getting—“

He flinched again as his superior wandered over to his side and wrapped a foreleg over his shoulders. The leader of the gang gave the shaking stallion a small smile, and he tried to return it.

“You know what? You make a good point there, lad,” the gang boss conceded. “To tell you the truth, when we sent you out, nopony here believed you’d be able to find anything. Heck, I was hoping you’d bump into something real nasty and save me the trouble of having to do away with you myself. Nothing personal, you have to understand, it’s just easier to split the loot with an even number, not mention not having to deal with an extra mouth to feed.

“And yet here we are,” he continued, waving wildly. “You, lad, have proven yourself. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve made each and every one of us here very proud. This band is fortunate to call you a brother.”

“T-thank you sir.“ The stallion raised a hoof to his head in salute. “I’ll keep doing my best, sir. And, and I’ll do even better. You’ll see, just you wait. I’ll make you proud.”

“But!” the leader exclaimed, looking over the audience as he pulled the young stallion closer. “You have to remember, lad, that this is a team, and do you really think this team has a place for a selfish pony who’ll rudely wake everypony up to brag about their littlest accomplishment and then put his material gain before those of his brothers?”

“Sir?” The younger stallion stared at his elder in confusion. He tried to wiggle out of the gang leader’s grasp, but he was held in place. “I-I don’t understand. What are you—“

There was another sigh from the bandit boss as he pulled the young stallion into the still-levitating dagger. The waiting blade dug deep into the poor pony’s chest, and before he could react or even cry out, the young stallion was yanked off the weapon, only to be shoved right back into the cold, sharp steel. Some in the crowd chuckled and cheered as the motion was repeated over and over until the stallion ceased struggling and became limp.

Rarity’s eyes grew wide with horror, and she found herself pushing against the cage’s bars. “What are you doing?” she cried out. It didn’t even occur to her that it was her betrayer getting what some might consider his just desserts, and she felt no twisted sense of justice at the sight of his pain. “You, you murderer! Stop this!”

The dressed up stallion’s breathing was heavy when he finally cleaned the dagger against the ragged pieces of his victim’s tunic and unceremoniously tossed the body onto the forest floor. “Just doing a bit of downsizing. Fewer ponies, larger portions.” He yawned and tucked the dagger into the jacket. “So, anything good in there?”

“Just a bit of copper with a couple of silvers, boss,” called out the bandit bent over Rarity’s saddlebags and helping himself to its contents under the watchful eyes of his peers.

“That’s it?” The gang’s leader scowled and turned to Rarity. “So, you’re just a little peasant mare putting on airs. Well, don’t you worry, I’m sure we’ll find a generous price for your pretty head. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He grabbed at his collars and gave them a straightening tug as he turned to his band of thieves and ruffians. “I’ll be in my quarters, getting the last winks I need.” He pointed to the young stallion he had just killed. “Next pony who wakes me up gets some of the same, got it? Axe-for-Brains! Clean this up, then get back to your post. The next time you leave your position without my say-so will be your last. Well, the heck are you waiting for?”

The brute with the axe stirred. “Sorry boss. It’s just, doesn’t she looks kind of familiar?” He pointed toward Rarity who quickly stepped back from the wooden bars. A princess was a public figure, and if farmers of a small village could recognize her as Princess Shmarity simply on the account of her appearance, it was certainly possible that uncouth bandits such as these could too, and Rarity sincerely doubted she’d be treated anywhere near as well by this bunch if her supposed identity was revealed.

“Familiar?” the leader was saying. “What do you mean?”

Rarity held her breath as the large stallion looked over her, tilting his head to this side and that as he deliberated with himself. She turned her head and puffed her cheeks, doing what she could to mess with her features and the brute’s perception of them. The large stallion scratched one of his many bald spots and shrugged.

“Can’t put my hoof on it,” he said. “I just got this feeling that I’ve seen her before.”

“Well, if you figure it out, come wake me up so I can cut you open for wasting my time,” the gang’s leader grumbled. “Now get to work, all of you!”

The crowd began to disperse. Most of the group separated and went back into their tents. Soon, only the brute with axe, a scrawny stallion with lanky legs standing guard at the cage, and the body of the pony who had tricked her remained. As much as she wanted to, Rarity could not look away when the large stallion heaved the hole-riddled corpse onto his back, treating the body that once carried the life of a fellow pony with as much respect as one would toward a moldy sack of rotten potatoes.

Now, Rarity could never describe herself as an expert on such morbid subjects, she couldn’t recall the last time she was in proximity of a fatal stabbing, but as she watched the body be carried away, she couldn’t help but wonder about how clean it all was. She had always assumed that getting stabbed would be a messy affair, and yet the ground where the body had landed was devoid of blood or gore. The marks that the dagger had left were also oddly clean. There was no leaking from the gashes that seemed to lead to a mysterious dark void rather than open to the body’s inner workings. The young stallion’s eyes were shut, despite Rarity not having seen anypony bother to do so, and bold black Xs had appeared over the closed lids.

It was a strange curiosity that would have to wait. Sniffling from behind interrupted Rarity’s thoughts, and she turned to her fellow prisoners. One was an earth pony mare around her age, holding the other, a young filly and also an earth pony, close to her chest as the filly shook and cried. The two flinched and backed away as Rarity began to approached, and she quickly held up her hooves to show she meant no harm.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to hurt you,” she assured softly. She smiled as the filly peeked past the mare’s arms. “Are you alright?”

“No worse for wear, I suppose,” the mare said, her voice scratchy and coming out barely louder than a whisper. “I just wish my sister didn’t have to witness that. She’s already been through enough.”

Something coughed and wheezed, drawing everypony’s attention to the last prisoner huddled up into a ball. “Our father’s the only one here really hurt,” the mare explained, nodding to the shivering pony in the corner. “He tried fighting back when they captured us.”

“That’s horrible.” Rarity made her way to the sole stallion in the cage and winced at the sight of him. Every part of him was swollen like an inflated balloon with unflattering shades of blue and black consuming much of his coat’s light yellow color which he shared with the filly. Every labored breath came out like a forceful, pained cough that cause his entire body to shake, the only sign the body showed of life. It didn’t matter how altruistic her attentions were, Rarity knew there was nothing she could do for the injured stallion, not without a first-aid kit and even with one Rarity wasn’t sure just how much she’d be able to accomplish.

“Don’t be silly. You know it can’t be her,” Rarity heard the mare say. “My sister thinks you’re Princess Shmarity, here to save us,” the elder sibling explained with a small apologetic smile when Rarity turned around. “She has a bit of an imagination.”

“Ah.” Rarity smiled back. “Well, she’s not the first pony to make that mistake. Apparently, I look a great deal like the princess.”

“Hm, yes.” The mare tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I can see the resemblance. So, how did you end up here?”

“Well—“

There was another fit of coughs, interrupting them and stealing their attention. The stallion raised a shaking hoof and beckoned. Rarity and the mare shared a look before they and the filly approached. An eye was cracked open, barely visible past its puffed lid, and his split lips parted and struggled to move as he forced out grunts.

“W-water,” he finally managed to croak out. The stallion pointed at his throat. “Need. So thirsty.”

The mare just shook her head. “We haven’t been given anything to eat or drink since they’ve caught us,” she said. “I don’t suppose you have a flask of something on you?”

“I’m afraid not.” Rarity stood back up and marched back to the side of the cage closet to the bandit camp. “What kind of treatment is this? Excuse me. Ahem, excuse me!”

“Huh, what?” The scrawny guard leaning against the bars looked up. He looked around and, with a look of bewilderment, slowly raised a hoof at himself.

“Yes, you. Obviously.” Rarity made a show of rolling her eyes. “Now, we’d like some water and some food. It is a little early for breakfast, I know, but I’m confident you can find us at least a little bit of bread.”

“Wait, are you—“

“But more importantly is the water,” Rarity continued. “Sparkling would, of course, be most ideal, though I suppose, given the limitations of our location, we would be willing to settle for less. As long as it is properly chilled, of course, and with a few lemon slices and maybe some sugar for the filly. Well, get on with it. We’ve waited long enough.”

“Uh, no.” The guard folded his forelegs across his front and scowled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you’re our prisoners, and—“

“And does that leader of yours know that this is how you treat your captives?” demanded Rarity, frowning. “Honestly, how is he going to get anything out of us when we’re completely starved and dehydrated? Do you really think he left you here just to watch us and our value whither away?”

The guard scratched the back of his head. He had lost that confident scowl. “I mean, I guess, er—“

“Water, NOOOW!”

Every ear in the vicinity flattened as Rarity stretched out the final syllable for a few good long seconds in a tone and pitch practiced and perfected in the breaking down of nerves and patience. The wood bars provided the guard no protection from Rarity’s sonorous assault, and his dramatic attempts to rip away his ears in an effort to deafen himself proved futile and only left his ears red, stretched, and sore. “Alright,” he finally cried. “Just, shut up, already.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shut up, please,” the stallion amended. “Look, I’ll get you your water. Just keep it down, will you? No need to wake the entire camp.”

The scrawny guard grumbled to himself as he walked away. Rarity allowed a victorious smile to cross her features before turning to her fellow prisoners. Both the mare and and filly were staring at her in a mix of awe and disbelief.

“How did you, he, how?” the mare was whispering. She shook her head. “You’re a braver pony than me, miss. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing really,” Rarity said, waving away the compliments. “I just happen to know a few tricks when dealing with such individuals. Now, let’s see what we have here.” She made her way to the back of their cage. The whole thing, Rarity quickly realized as she turned her intuitive eye on the structure, was crudely made. The bars that ran vertically and impeded any passage were all slightly varied in length and thickness. Whoever made this cage was either extremely stringy or simply didn’t care about the final product as there weren’t any nails or metal bindings to hold anything together. Instead, each bar was secured and held in place by a piece of rope tied around it and the wood beam it ran across.

Rarity gave the bars a solid push, but they refused to budge. Primitive as method might have been, it worked and kept the bars from moving. Of course, that meant if the bindings were to be removed, those bars would easily slip out of position and even fall, and it would only take couple of missing bars before there was a large enough space for, say, a pony or three to squeeze through.

And tied rope was much less of a hindrance than hammered nails would have been. All in all, this may have been the most escapable situation Rarity had ever found herself in.

19. The Particular Case of Selptan Felines

The Particular Case of Selptan Felines

The stall owner stood there waiting, unamused, as did her customers in the line growing behind Rarity who were making their impatience vocal and clear. “Look, lady,” the mare in the dirty apron grumbled while she shot Rarity an even dirtier look, “if you’re looking for a free meal, that’s none of my business, but you’d better look somewhere else ‘cause this ain’t a charity.”

“No, wait, I just need a moment. It’s in here somewhere, it has to be.” Rarity took off her bags and tossed them open to checked them again, but her eyes only confirmed what her hooves had already told her. No matter how hard she looked, there simply was no wallet to be found, and yet it was a reality Rarity was having trouble accepting. She saw that guard pony return the purse to her bags after helping himself to some of its contents, Rarity was sure of it. But then, if that was truly the case, did she drop it on the way here? She had gone through several bumps since her arrival in Baldursgait, but Rarity didn’t think the purse could’ve just fallen out of her saddlebags simply from walking into another creature, not when the bag’s flap was sealed and there weren’t any holes.

“Out of the way,” the stallion in the skullcap behind Rarity huffed as he roughly nudged her to the side. “Here’s two silvers,” he said, tossing the coins over to the stall owner. “Give me eight with cheese and make it snappy.”

Rarity gathered her things and walked off, grumpy, hungry, and trying not to lose it. She didn’t want to make assumptions or accusations, but it was becoming quite clear that she had been robbed. It was a new experience for Rarity, being pickpocketed, a sobering experience that left her cold and feeling foolish.

She had been warned so many times that Baldursgait was a dangerous place, by Huntress, by Pendula, by all those ponies from Horshire, so why had she not been more alert? There she was, walking into everyone and being distracted by nearly everything, her lack of guile on full display. There could not be a more perfect mark for a thief. Why didn’t she take any precautions? She should’ve kept the coin purse closer to her person, like in her cloak with her daggers and the Queen of Fey’s pendant? It would have been safe under there.

Wouldn’t it?

Rarity reached into her traveler’s cloak. She quickly found both Elder Woods’s oddity of a dagger and the one from Huntress, but to her growing distress, both the silver snowflake and the chain it was attached to were missing. But who? And how? A thief certainly could have removed Rarity’s purse from her saddlebags and made off with it when she was busy observing the locals, but Rarity couldn’t imagine some creature managing to slip the pendant off her neck without her noticing them. It must have been when she bumped into someone in the crowd, that brief physical contact being all the opportunity the pickpocket would’ve needed.

Well, however the theft was done, there was no way of telling who or where they were now. The packed plaza present plenty of hiding places, and the thief could have easily gotten lost in the crowd. Even if this place wasn’t so cluttered and the thief was so brazen and arrogant enough to stick around, Rarity doubted she’d be able to find them as, if she had to be completely honest, just about everybody here, be they pony or nonpony, young or old, looked at least somewhat suspect.

The loss of her purse hurt and was certainly a significant setback that left her with nothing to buy basic necessities let alone hire a band of adventurers to help save Spike and Discord, but with time and effort the money could be replaced. The pendant, however, was an entirely different question, and Rarity wasn’t sure she could even contact the Queen of Fey without it. Not that she ever tried using it. She had been so careful and cautious about the power stored within the symbol, and now that power was in the grasp of some selfish and immoral thief dangerously ignorant of what they pilfered.

Would it work with creatures other than her? Rarity didn’t want to find out. Her priorities shifted, with locating and retrieving the Queen of Fey’s symbol thrown straight to the top, but she had few ideas as to how to achieve that goal. As much a fan as she was of mystery novels, there really wasn’t a whole lot of detective work Rarity could do without any leads or clues to work off of, and even the great Shadow Spade would’ve had difficulties tracking a trail this cold. Reporting the crime to the city guard and asking for their help was considered for the briefest of millisecond before Rarity remembered her treatment at the entrance, and Rarity had experienced enough of Baldursgait already to know she wasn’t going to get much sympathy off the street.

Her best bet, Rarity soon realized, was to continue her original plan of finding individuals who still supported Spiketopia’s royalty at the adventurers league. They’d be more willing to help at the very least, and she wouldn’t have to worry about being taken advantage of. Rarity secured her saddlebags, making sure they were tightly closed, and set off in search of the building behind the billboards. This time, as she made her way through the square, Rarity kept an eye out for anyone getting too close.

She had made some progress through the crowded plaza when she suddenly stopped and turned to look over her shoulder. Her ears twitched, and she squinted as the creatures behind her grumbled and brushed past. Seeing and hearing nothing that was felt out of place, Rarity shrugged and turned back around. Whatever it was, it must have just been her imagination and her nerves being on edge.

Wrong way.

Rarity stopped once more. There it was again, that strange sensation. It felt like someone or something was watching her, spying on her, making the skin under her alabastrine coat crawl. And then there was that whispering in her ear. Or was it in her head?

Over here.

There it was again, spoken in a darkly mischievous and mocking tone that sent a chill through her body and lifted the fur over her neck. Rarity looked around again, but despite the whisper sounding so near, she could not find the owner of the voice. None of the creatures she saw tried speaking to her or getting her attention, and except for a few side glances and scowls, most largely ignored her as they forcefully passed by. Not wanting to continue holding up traffic, Rarity returned her gaze straight ahead and tried to walk forward, but she only made a couple of steps before the voice behind her returned, this time with a giggle that caused her teeth to grate and grind.

This way.

With a exasperated sigh, Rarity turned her whole body around and headed toward the direction of the mysterious voice. She found ignoring the annoyed looks of the other pedestrians as she moved against the flow of the crowd a whole lot easier than ignoring the eerie whispers and giggles which seemed to grow louder with each step she took. The voice started to give out small encouragements, urging Rarity onward as it directed her to the plaza’s outskirts and onto an unfamiliar street.

Now Rarity certainly had her moments of naivety. Failing to stay vigilant while in a brand new city and getting robbed as a result was only the latest addition to a list that included letting a rival seamstress plagiarize her designs and almost falling victim to a scam friendship school run by known con-ponies. That did not, however, mean she was completely oblivious; one did not come to own a successful and growing business without having some level of shrewdness after all, enough to at the very least recognize the dangers of following a strange voice in her head down a dark, isolated path.

And so Rarity stopped, digging her into the dirt as if to keep herself from being dragged forward. She tried to resist the odd, unexplainable urgency she felt toward this street, tried to back up, tried to run away and return to the more populated areas, but the voice in her head only grew louder and louder until it became throbbing ache. Was this some sort of magic, Rarity wondered, a charm spell like what she had been through in Horshire?

The moment Rarity stepped onto the street she had been brought to, the voice immediately quieted and returned to a low whisper. She took a step back, and not too surprisingly, the voice swelled back to a painful scream and only stopped once Rarity pulled her hoof back up front.

“So this is where you want me to go, is it?” Rarity shouted, glaring at the surrounding buildings, at the clouds above, at the crowd some distance behind her, turning her head in every which direction. Silence answered her. Rarity tutted, annoyed by the lack of a reply. “Fine, so be it.”

Huntress’s dagger was unsheathed and removed from Rarity’s cloak. If this was a trap, some devious method to get her alone and into an ambush, she would not being going in utterly unprepared. Carefully holding the short bladed weapon out in front of her, Rarity slowly made her way down the street. The voice had gone silent, leaving her with only the wails of the wind and the sounds of fluttering paper scraps. Rarity’s eyes scanned every creeping shadow, and she pointed the tip of her blade at the slightest movement. Every five or so steps, Rarity would quickly glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She never was, and the street was clearly deserted, and yet Rarity could not shake the feeling that she was being watched.

The adrenaline from her display of bravado quickly wore off. Her grip around her dagger’s handle had become shaky and was loosened by anxious perspiration, and at the sound of a sudden loud thud, it slipped out of Rarity’s hoof and fell to the ground. A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she all but dove into the dirt to retrieve the dagger, making even more noise in her alarm and possibly alerting whatever was that caused the noise further.

Rarity placed her rear against one of the neighboring walls, ignoring the grime and dust that was likely seeping into her tail, and held her weapon toward the direction of the sound. There was a second thud, and then another, and then a pained groan, all of which were coming from a dark alleyway just around the corner. Those deeply buried animalistic instincts of hers were screaming, begging her to run as fast as she could away from this scene. The more advanced and rational parts of her brain acknowledged those primitive thoughts and agreed.

Feeling finally returned to Rarity’s legs as another thump echoed out of the alley. Slowly, quietly, Rarity removed herself from the wall and started to creep her way back to the populated plaza, keeping both her gaze and her dagger pointed at the alley. Knowing that any sudden movement would create noise and draw unwanted attention to her, Rarity resisted all urges to break into a gallop and escape, and instead she forced herself to move slowly and carefully.

Progress was slow as at every additional thud and thump Rarity froze, half-expecting something to jump out of the darkness and chase after her. She had only managed a few small steps when she heard something new from within that alley.

“Help.”

The whimper was weak, barely audible over the beatings. Part of Rarity questioned whether she had even heard the sound or attributed it to just a trick of the wind. What if it was a trap, another part of her asked, a ruse to get her into the alley for an attack? Whatever it was didn’t matter, reasoned a third part, and the smart thing to do would be to ignore what she thought she heard and get away from here without delay.

All those thoughts, the panicky and fearful, the suspicious and cynical, the rational and reasoning, Rarity disregarded them all as she took a step toward the alley. It did not matter that she really couldn’t be sure of what she had heard or that there most certainly was a likelihood of her walking right into some sinister ploy or that she could think of fewer things more reckless and stupid than continuing forward like she was currently. All that was insignificant when compared to the overwhelming disgust Rarity was feeling. The possibility, however slim, of abandoning some poor creature in need when she, Equestria’s supposed representation of generosity, could have done something to help made her sick to the core.

It wasn’t something she could living with, not if she wanted to ever be able to look any of her friends in the eye, and so Rarity approached the source of the sounds, of the thumps and bumps and the whimper, doing her best not to shake as she wondered of what she might find within. With blade and guard up, she peeked around the corner, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

None of the three figures she found in the alley jumped out at her. One of them sat huddled against the wall, crying softly and wincing as the largest of the three violently slammed their hooves down onto the body of the third. The third figure was curled into a ball, cowering and trying to protect their vulnerable neck and head with their arms and paws. Bruises could be seen forming through the orange fur, and in that mess of flying limbs, Rarity could spot a limp, spotted tail that was long, smooth, and fuzzy, unlike that of an equine’s. A similar appendage in both color and structure could also be found on the creature against the alley wall.

They were feline folk, Rarity realized, like the bipedal kittens she had first seen being chased around or the poor individual she had knocked over. The one standing over and pummeling the fallen cat was, however, a pony like Rarity. They were a stallion, large, about the size of Applejack’s brother Big McIntosh, with a coat of dark gray fur and a dirty yellow mane and tail that were both cut messily short. Unlike all the others she had seen, this stallion wore no weapons or any clothes, and there was something about his Cutie Mark that felt, off. The symbol was blurred, indistinguishable, and it left Rarity with a sense of unease that added to her discomfort with this whole distressing scene.

“Where. Did. You. Get. This?” the stallion was demanding, punctuating each spoken syllable with a blow to the hurt cat underneath him. Something was wrong with stallion’s throat which had left his voice incredibly low and added an odd reverberation to his words.

Another fearful whimper from the kitten hiding away from the violence spurred Rarity into action, and she stepped forward into the alley and shouted, “Stop!” It was a recklessness that was more characteristic of a pony like Rainbow Dash, but with there being no creatures nearby whom which she could get help from and the victim of the brutal beating’s status uncertain and condition worsening, Rarity’s options were limited.

At least now that she had gotten the large stallion’s attention, the rain of blows had stopped, with one of his hoof pausing right in the middle of its descent, sunlight glinting off a small chain thread that was wrapped around it. The stallion slowly turned to face Rarity, and at the sight of those little solid black beads that served as his eyes, Rarity questioned whether the being before her was truly a pony. Was he a changeling perhaps, one whose transformation was imperfect or incomplete?

Before Rarity could consider the creature’s appearance and nature further, the chain around his hoof started to shine, forcing Rarity’s eyes to shut from the sudden brief brightness. A second later, Rarity felt something cold around her neck and then something hard against her chest, and in her surprise, she nearly yelled out and released her hold on her dagger. Almost out of completely reflex, Rarity stole a quick peek down at her front. Whatever she have possibly been expecting to find there, it most surely was not the Queen of Fey’s pendant hanging from her neck and out in the open against the front folds her cloak, the many jagged silver points of the snowflake unmistakable.

“Emissary of the exiled harlot,” Rarity heard the strange stallion hiss in that unnerving voice of his. She raised her head and saw that he was no longer standing over the prone feline but instead had taken a step toward her. The chain that been wrapped around his hoof, Rarity noted, had vanished.

“D-don’t come any closer!” Rarity exclaimed. “I-I’ve already called the guards. They’ll be here any second, s-so just let those two go before you get into anymore trouble.” As the stallion took another step forward, Rarity nervously took one back. “Stay back,” she ordered, holding up the dagger and struggling to keep it steady and make it appear threatening. “I-I’m warning you, I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to defend myself.”

The stallion stopped his advance, and in that moment, Rarity was filled with relief as it appeared that the odd ruffian was seeing reason. Before she could even think of relaxing, however, the stallion disappeared, only to reappear mere inches in front of her a split second later. He batted the dagger out of Rarity’s grasp and swung. The strike missed, whizzing right past the front of her nose as Rarity stumbled back and tripped, causing her to fall.

She wasn’t given an opportunity to recover as the stallion looming over her press his hoof against her neck. Rarity tried to shove the larger pony off her, and when she saw that that wasn’t going to work, she tried to deter by swinging her hooves at his face. It was like punching at a wall made of bricks and just as effective, with the stallion showing no reaction to Rarity’s attacks whatsoever. He simply continued to push down on Rarity’s throat, and soon, Rarity was gasping for air.

“So the court of rebellion finally makes its move. No matter. Their plans dies with their messenger.”

Rarity tried to roll her head to side in order to make the stallion’s hold on her neck less secure, but her efforts and struggling only caused the stallion to apply more pressure. Something in the dirt next to her caught her eye, and she removed her hoof from her assailant’s face and reached out toward it. It took a bit of blind flailing, but Rarity’s hoof eventually found the dagger that had been knocked out of her grasp. Without a second thought, Rarity pulled the dagger back and plunged it into the side of the stallion’s neck.

The blade didn’t even get past the initial layer of gray fur. It bounced off the neck as if the exposed spot had been covered in metal plate, causing Rarity’s hoof to shake from the unanticipated recoil. Her confusion and desperation growing, Rarity tightened her hold on the weapon and swung again. This time, the blade bent and snapped against the stallion’s neck, and the resulting force made her drop what was left of the dagger with a pained wince.

The stallion lifted his hoof, giving Rarity the chance to take in half a breath before he slammed it back down. Rarity choked out a gasp of pain as her vision blurred from the tears welling up in her eyes. “Your existence is a mistake,” she heard the stallion whisper into her ear. “It shall be rectified.”

Rarity’s struggling weakened as her movements grew sluggish. Her limbs were losing feeling, and already her hind legs had ceased their wild kicking. Her left front leg collapsed to her side while her right one continued to push futilely at the stallion’s face. Bulging veins sprouted all over his features as his color became unnaturally pale and the snarl his mouth was twisted. He bared thin, needle like fangs, furthering his strange, monstrous appearance when in addition to his already abnormal eyes. That freakish, frightening face was all she could see as the edges of her vision slowly darkened.

At last, Rarity’s remaining active limb dropped. She dug it into her cloak, searching desperately even as her body started to give up. As the world around her grew dark, her hoof found the wooden hilt of Elder Woods’s final gift to her, and with the last of her strength, Rarity tore it out of her cloak and blindly swung it in front of her.

The stallion let out a loud yelp as he released Rarity’s neck. The moment she felt the pressure leave her throat, Rarity rolled to her side and gulped down several breaths worth of air. Gradually, light and color returned to her eyes, and she could begin to feel and freely move her limbs once more. The deafening ring in her ear had been replaced by the stallion’s howls that continued on even as Rarity recovered. There he stood, clutching at his cheeks and snout and trying to cover the massive gash that extended across the length of his face with his hooves.

One of his black eyes was closed shut. The other had turned to Rarity. “You—“

She didn’t let him finish. With a mighty, animalistic scream, Rarity dove at the injured stallion, and as he stumbled back, she drove the dagger into his collar. The obsidian blade did what the one made of steel could not as it sunk into the flesh and incited a tortured cry. Rarity yanked the black blade free and struck again, widening and deepening the wound.

Over and over, the dagger was buried into the stallion’s neck, until Rarity was out of breath and could barely hold onto the dagger. She took a step back and watched as the stallion shuddered and then collapsed. Rarity held up her blade and took a readying stance, preparing herself for when he climbed back to his feet. A good minute or so passed with her staring at the unmoving body before Rarity eventually lowered her weapon and let her own body relax a little.

Physically, anyways. Mentally, she was busy trying to come to terms with having killed another being. It did not matter that the deed had been done out of self-defense or that her victim seemed to have been of an otherworldly persuasion. The life of another had still been ended by her own hooves, cut short by the blade she was still holding.

And yet, even as Rarity watched the body of the stallion she had just struck down flake apart and turn to ash, leaving behind only a misshaped skull with bold black Xs over its sockets, the numbing guilt she felt was already fading away. It was like the time back at the bandit camp when she felt little to no discomfort over the moving and looting of the slain brigands, another task Rarity had thought unimaginable, especially for her of all ponies. Now all she felt was her earlier hunger when it would have been more appropriate to find a corner and start vomiting. To think, she was already thinking about her next meal after getting over her committing one of the worst crimes in Equestria and in a matter of mere seconds. Heavens above and Tartarus below, what was wrong with her?

A soft sob interrupted Rarity’s pondering, and she turned to the two kittens. The larger one, the initial subject to the strange stallion’s ire, was lain on the street, unmoving while the smaller, younger of the two knelt over them with tears streaming down their face as they tried to shake the larger body. The smaller kitten glanced up and their body stiffened at the sound of Rarity’s approaching steps. The fur on their arching back rose, a sign of aggression Rarity was familiar with from her own pet feline, but their eyes betrayed more fear than anger.

“It’s alright,” Rarity assured, lifting up her hooves before she remembered that she was still holding a dagger and a frightfully odd looking one at that. Realizing how threatening she must’ve appeared waving a weapon around, Rarity quickly tucked it back into the inner pocket of her cloak. “You’re safe now,” she said, again with her hooves raised to show that they were empty. “I‘m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Rarity took another step forward, and at this, the kitten hissed and opened their mouth to expose their teeth. Not wanting to aggravate the nervous creature further, she immediately stopped. “It’s alright.” Rarity removed her hood and as she revealed her face and let her mane tumble out and flow free, she gave out a small smile.

The kitten blinked twice and their mouth fell open, likely taken aback by Rarity’s unexpected appearance. Her disarming smile seemed to have done the trick as the cat’s stiff shoulders started to sag and their fur flattened. They swallowed, sniffed, and wiped their face with the back of their arm. “W-where did he go?” they asked, the pitch of their voice suggesting that they were indeed very young and quite likely female in gender. It certainly matched their more feminine appearance, well, as far as Rarity who was hardly an expert on cat folk could tell.

“You mean the stallion who was attacking you?” The kitten nodded, and Rarity looked to the pile of dust where the brute’s body had once lain. The lopsided skull, all the remained of the stallion, had also disintegrated, leaving them with nothing but questions and adding to the mystery of what he was really. “I, don’t believe he’ll be bothering you again.”

“Oh. Okay.” Rarity did not miss the hesitation in the kitten’s words nor the look of suspicion she had on. The two stared at each for a short moment before the kitten looked down at her fellow feline, then back to Rarity. Another moment passed, and the kitten’s wary expression turned to one of worry and steadily increasing panic. “Can, can you help my brother?” It sounded more like a desperate plea than a request. “Please, he’s hurt.”

Rarity smiled again. “Of course,” she assured, and the kitten expressed her evident relief with a sigh. “Let me just—“

As she approached and the kitten hovering over the body of her brother reluctantly made some room, Rarity realized she had spoken too quickly. She had to fight back a wince at the sight before her. Just looking at all of the bruises and welts covering the poor cat was painful, with there being more areas black and blue and red than there were of the cat’s natural fur color. One of the arms looked bent, possibly even broken, and the only movement that could be seen, the only signs that the creature before Rarity still clung to life, consisted of a bit of shuddering as the cat forced down some shallow breaths and some pained twitches of his crooked tail.

A sudden fury filled Rarity that burned away what little lingering regret and guilt remained over her vanquishing of the being who inflicted this damage. Thoughts of her own pet cat lended kindling that furthered the blaze, but when that righteous anger finally burned out, however, all she was left with was concern and a growing sense of despair. It didn’t take a doctor’s diagnosis to determine that the cat was in a bad shape, but that same lack of medical expertise caused Rarity to question if there even really was anything she could do for him. She wasn’t even sure if it was safe to move him.

Rarity had to look away. She glanced up to find the younger, still cognizant cat looking at her expectantly, waiting. Rarity owed them nothing. Hadn’t she done enough already by saving them from that monster of a stallion? With the Queen of Fey’s pendant back in her possession, she could just walk away, just leave and wash her hooves clean of this whole affair.

She could have, just like she could’ve ignore the soft cry for help, but if she had, she wouldn’t be Rarity. Instead, she took in a calming breath and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Standing over the injured cat, Rarity dug out her first aid kit. Bandages weren’t going to do much good here, there not being any cuts or other open wounds, though she might be able to fashion a sort of crude splint and sling for the contorted arm. As for the bruises, Rarity didn’t have enough salve to address them all so she’d have to pick and choose the worst of the them. Or was one supposed to bandage bruises? She didn’t think so, but again, her knowledge in providing this kind of treatment was limited, and it didn’t appear that Princess Shmarity was much of a nurse either. Was there anything else in here that could help, like an instructional guide perhaps? Rarity rummaged deeper, only for her hoof to slip and knock the kit over, slipping some of its contents onto the ground.

She heard a gasp and looked up. The kitten was crouched in front of her, and in her paws she held one of the small red vials from Rarity’s bag. Those bright, yellow eyes were wide as they stared down at the vial. The paws started to close around it but stopped when she realized that Rarity was watching.

“C-can I?” the cat asked. Her body had stiffened again, wounding up like a spring that was readying to jump.

The look Rarity wore one of confusion and curiosity. “I, suppose,” she said with a delay that betokened of her uncertainty. She watched as at her permission, the kitten rushed to the other cat’s side and lifted up his head, causing him to groan and grasp.

“I don’t think—“ Rarity began, but the kitten had already snapped the glass lip, thrown away the lid, and was pouring the vial’s red contents into her brother’s mouth. He struggled weakly for a bit, but eventually, the younger of the two cats got him to swallow the mysterious red liquid down. Before Rarity’s eyes, the large dark bruises on the cat’s body became smaller and grew lighter. His irregular breathing steadied as his crooked tail slowly straightened. The arm still appeared a little out of shape, but at least it no longer hurt to stare at it.

Seeing that her patient no longer appeared to be in critical condition, Rarity dropped her gaze down to her kit of medical supplies, and she took a quick count of the few vials that still remained for future use. She was no stranger to potions with miraculous properties, having been acquainted with Zecora and her own magical brews, and wondered if she should try to save a sample for the Everfree Forest’s premier herbalist as a souvenir.

“What, what happen?”

The voice Rarity heard was young, not as young as the kitten perhaps but still within the throes of adolescence, and unlike the voice of the first cat, this one had a lower pitch that was clearly belonging to a male. He was sitting up, the older feline brother, propped by the elbow of his uninjured arm as he stared at his surroundings with alert eyes wide with confusion. His sister let out a cry, and if that hadn’t already gotten his attention, her tackling him into a hug that nearly knocked him back down definitely would have.

“Lyn?” he grunted. His features turned to a scowl. “What are you still doing here? I told you to run.”

The kitten simply shook her head as she wailed into her brother’s chest. The young tom sighed, but Rarity saw that his face softened when he raised a paw to gently pat his younger sister’s head. “Alright already. Just, what happen? Where’d the guy who attacked us go?”

The sister lifted her head and sniffed. “I don’t know. I-I think that lady save us from him. And, and she even gave us a healing potion too!”

“Oh yeah?” The cat looked up to see Rarity, noticing her for his first time. He tried to peel the kitten off of him, and when he failed, he shot Rarity an embarrassed grin, and with his better arm, he waved. “Well, uh, thanks miss. Sounds, uh, like you saved me and my sis’ hides.” He chuckled weakly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s just, I’m not really used to giving thanks and all. Aren’t a whole lot of creatures in Baldursgait who would’ve done that, not unless they knew they were getting something out of it, and, well.”

The cat gestured down at himself and the tattered, dirty rags he wore. “We don’t exactly look like we’re of gold. But, ah.” His smile wavered, shrinking to a near frown for a good long couple of seconds before it returned to its original, bashful state. “I guess you’ve already got your reward.” He made a gesture which directed Rarity to the silver symbol hanging from her neck.

“Listen, miss, ah, I know I’m not in a place to ask this, but that necklace you got there, you picked it off that guy, right? Could, could we have it?” The cat bowed his head and put his paws on his sister’s shoulders. “Please. It isn’t worth much, really, but it means a lot to me and my sis. It belonged to our mother. Our late mother. Lost her when Catlyn here could barely crawl. Pop left us pretty soon after.” For a moment, he stared wistfully past Rarity, then he cleared his throat. “Please. It’s all we have left of them.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the cat I bumped down earlier back at the crowds.” Her own smile turned into a disgusted scowl. “So that‘s when it was stolen from me!”

The cat blinked. “S-stolen? I-I don’t—“ His mouth fell open and the color of the fur over his face drained away. His eyes widened as he was struck hard with realization. “Oh nuts.”

“Oh nuts, indeed!” Rarity took a threatening step forward, to which the young pickpocket responded with a timid move back. “So not only do you go about stealing from other creatures, but you also have the audacity to put on this big show for me, after everything I’ve to help you, to try and guilt me into giving back this pendant you stole, which was rightfully mine in the first place? Have you truly no shame?”

“Hey hey, a cat has to eat, and I’ve got two mouths to feed.” He ushered his sister behind him. “Look, I didn’t recognize you at first. If I had, I wouldn’t have tried tricking you. Honest.” The cat placed one front paw over his chest and raised the other into the air. “But hey, you got your jewelry back, so no harm no foul, yeah? We good now, right?”

“What about my purse?” Rarity demanded, her glare intensifying. “Did you take that as well?”

“What? No, no of course not.” The cat shook his head hurriedly. “Really, honest, I didn’t take any purse. Chump Change would have me offed if I tried something like that. Here, look.” He patted down on the loose rags serving as his shirt and pants. “See, nothing. If you lost your money, sucks, but I seriously had nothing to do with that.”

Rarity‘s frown deepened, but it didn’t seem to her that the cat was lying this time, this display all too desperate to be deceptive, and judging from his earlier attempt at an emotional ploy, he was no skilled actor. “Very well then.”

The cat lowered his arms. “Then, we’re good? No hard feelings? Then I’ll just, take my sister and—“

“Hold it!” At Rarity’s exclamation, the cat shrunk back. “We most certainly still have a great of hard feelings to deal with. In case you’ve forgotten, you still stole this from me.” She held up the Queen of Fey’s pendant before tucking it back under her cloak. “You’re a scoundrel and a criminal and worst of all an absolutely horrible influence to your sister.” They both spared a glance at the young kitten hiding behind the older brother. “I should turn you into the city guards this very moment.”

The cat gulped. “Whoa, whoa! Hold on now, let’s not get hasty, miss.” He held his paws up and out, a show of submission and surrender. “Look, there’s no need to get the guard involved. I’m sure we can work something out between us without bothering those jerks.” The smile he put on was weak and shaky. “I mean, you just saw me get beat up. You don’t really want to see that again, do you?”

Rarity’s glare continued to burn, and in the presence of its heat, the cat’s attempt at a sunny and optimistic disposition melted away quickly. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked, his smile vanishing. “Please, I can’t, they’ll take me away from my sister.” At her mentioning, the kitten grabbed hold of the larger cat’s arm, the still injured one, which incited a grimace from him. “Just, please, what do you need me to do to make things right? I’ll do anything, just don’t get the guards.”

He was all but on his knees, begging. It was hard for Rarity not to feel pity for how vulnerable the cat was looking before her, and the sad, quivering eyes his sister was giving her made it even more difficult to stay and act angry. With a sigh, she let her expression relax. “Can you retrieve my money?”

The cat shuddered, and with apparent reluctance, he shook his head. “Sorry miss, but you’d better just forget about that. Sounds like you got got by Chump Change and his gang, and I can’t help with that.” He looked around, and with his voice dropping in volume, he continued, whispering, “There’s a rumor on the streets saying that he’s a Zhent agent. Can’t say if it’s real or not, but the guards leave him and his alone, and even most adventurers won’t mess with him.”

“I see,” said Rarity, and she did for the most part. Neither she nor Princess Shmarity knew what a ‘Zhent’ was, but with the hushed, reverent way he spoke of it, the cat made the danger and fear behind the term clear as crystal. She sighed again, this time out of frustration. Leaving her collection of coins in the clutches of some disreputable criminal organization didn’t sit well with her, but there really wasn’t much either she or the young cat here could do at this point.

So then, what could the street urchin feline do for her? Not much, Rarity thought with a frown as she considered some of the limited, more reasonable possibilities. Perhaps he could tell her more about Baldursgait and even be able give her a tour of the city. Maybe he knew of more rumors that Rarity might find useful. Or maybe...

“Do you know of anypony in this city who still has ties to the royal family?”

“Ties?” the cat repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Ties as in loyalties,” Rarity tried to elaborate. “As in, is there anypony in this city that is still loyal to the crown? Like, say, a survivor from the royal guard or a retired retainer?”

The cat scratched his chin as he tilted his head in thought. “I mean, there are the dukes and duches that run this place. They probably had connections to the king when he was still around. I heard that Duke Ravenguard’s a retired general or commander or something from the army, but good luck getting an audience with him, if that’s what you’re looking for. I definitely can’t arrange anything like that.”

He winced again when the kitten at his side interrupted him with a tug at his hurt arm. “What about that one guy, the one who sits at the league hall who drinks all day? Didn’t he say he was a royal knight?”

“Oh yeah. That guy.” Seeing Rarity’s curious look, the cat turned to her to explain. “There’s this one adventurer, settled down here pretty recently, some time after the army tried to retake the capital and got crushed actually. When he has enough to drink, he’ll start telling these stories about him being a royal knight and stuff.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you if any of it is true though. He doesn’t really look like a knight or anything.”

“Can you take me to him?” Rarity asked. Whether he was a real deal or just a teller of tall tales with an inflated ego, she figured it was worth checking out.

The cat gave Rarity a sideways glance. “If I do, we’ll be square? No turning me into the guards or anything like that?”

She nodded. “You do this, and you and your sister are free to go in peace.”

The stare the cat shot her was one filled with unmasked suspicion, with his eyes squinted and narrow and his mouth in a frown. His lips moved slowly as he silently repeated Rarity’s promise, trying to discern any hidden, double meaning behind her words. Carefully, with a long and forceful exhale, he crossed his arms.

“Alright. Follow me.”

43. Tipping the Scales

Tipping the Scales

The return trip to the entrance tower was thankfully just as calm and quiet as her initial journey to the temple had been, but it definitely felt longer and more arduous thanks to Rarity’s injuries. The seriousness of her wounds had been significantly mitigated by the properties of the potion she downed, her various burns, bruises, and swells reduced from life threatening status to a more manageable moderate discomfort, but that moderate discomfort was still enough to make traveling through the desert dunes a painful ordeal. By the time she dusted the sand off her hooves and stepped onto the paved streets of the town, it was late afternoon, and there was nothing that Rarity, with her energy all but spent from yet another physically exhausting, mentally trying, emotional rollercoaster of day, wanted to do more than to throw herself into bed and sleep her aches and sores and the rest of her problems away.

She got up the next morning feeling refreshed and completely pain free. The rest of Rarity wounds had healed overnight, just as with the ones she sustained during the acquisition of Halaster’s horn. Said instrument could be seen peeking out of her saddlebags, and as Rarity walked over to the pack she had carelessly discarded in her tired state and picked it up, the flap fell open, causing the contents within to spill out.

Rarity nearly jump at the sight of an equine skull rolling amongst her scattered dungeoneering gear, the items she had taken from the silver masked marek and the scroll that would bring Spike and Discord back to life. Seeing the scroll from Valmeyjar’s temple caused her to recall the events from yesterday and recognize the skull for what it was, which made her heart rate rocket even higher as she realized how flippantly she had treated the Moonmaiden’s new vessel, having just tossed it to the ground with the rest of her junk. Slowly, cautiously, Rarity lifted the skull off the ground and set it on the mattress so that it sat eye level to her as she knelt.

“Lady Selune?” she whispered. “Are you there?”

The skull began to illuminate as blue lights filled the holes meant for eyes. “I am, Princess Shmarity of Spiketopia,” the voice of Selune rang out. “Do you have need of me?”

Rarity sighed out in relief. “No, not particularly. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.” She struggled to think of something to say before her pause became more awkward. “Hm. So. Are you getting used to your, new accommodations?”

The blue light brightened briefly before dimming back down. “It is odd. For the first time in several millennia, since my decline, I am able to see and experience the world outside Valmeyjar’s temple, and yet this body restricts my ability to do much beyond observing my direct surroundings.” The skull suddenly wobbled over and tipped onto its side. “It might be due to this one’s diluted divinity or perhaps it is because of the undead corruption this body suffers. Whatever the reason, it will take some time to get use to and to determine the extent of my power in this form, and I ask that unless my assistance is needed, you will leave me undisturbed to do so.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. My apologies.”

A satisfied hum came from the skull as its light faded into tiny pinpoints. Rarity put the skull back upright then returned to the mess on the ground. After making sure that nothing was damaged, she got to repacking her bags. Her gear was put away first, then Halaster’s trumpet, then that all important magic scroll, then the looted book, which Rarity regarded with guilt-riddled curiosity.

“Now Rarity, as a mare with your own private journal, you know very well that there are few transgressions less forgivable than reading one’s diary without one’s permission,” Rarity muttered to herself as she held the book away from her at leg’s length. She started to put the book away but stopped.

“But then again, I suppose the owner isn’t exactly around to give either her permission or her forgiveness anyways, so what does it matter? And then there’s the possibility that she might have written down something in here on her employer, and really, am I really in any sort of position where I can turn away a potential source of useful information on the Squid Wizard?”

The book in her hooves flipped opened to its middle pages even while Rarity was still trying to justify her nosiness and blatant disregard for the owner’s privacy to herself. She gasped, as if the opening of the book was completely accidental, and quickly moved to cover her eyes. It only took a couple of seconds before curiosity won and her attempts to maintain an air of innocence fell apart as she peeked past the hoof she raised over her face and looked down at the exposed page before her.

To her disappointment, the page’s contents were more or less illegible. The page was jammed with letters, of which only a few Rarity managed to recognize, written in such a fashion that had them all curved and connected to one another in a flowing script that might have looked graceful if the writer had bothered with spacing. As it was now, everything was so closely packed together, with some letters even bleeding over their neighbors, it was impossible to tell where one word ended and the next began. The next page was worse as now the text wasn’t even formatted in standard lines. Instead, the jumble of letters twisted and turned like worms wiggling across the page, and some looped around to form rings and other shapes. The next few pages Rarity sped through were equally as frustrating, and by the time she got to the last filled page in which the text had been arranged into a visual depiction of a dragon setting a field ablaze, she was feeling too annoyed to appreciate the surprising amount of detail that had been put into the doodle.

She slammed the book shut with a irked huff and placed it back on the floor next to the other items she had taken off the mare in the silver mask, namely the polished wood wand she had used to create those fiery balls of destruction, the trio of scrolls that had been tucked inside the book, the now empty wallet, its holdings already added to Rarity’s own purse along with the few coins that the diamond dog and Rowdy had, and the little bag that contained a medley of gems. A quick check revealed that only a few of the gems were up to her standards, the rest too small or having too many imperfections, but it wasn’t as though they’d be much use to Rarity now anyways. For that matter, neither was the wand after Rarity gave it a few cautious waves which resulted in absolutely nothing. The scrolls, if they were anything like the scroll from Selune that had the spell of resurrection sealed within, might be a bit more useful if Rarity could figure out what they were for and if anyone in town could and would be willing to activate their magic for her.

And if that weren’t the case, then she could probably at least sell them in addition to the wand and the gems off somewhere for a few shiny gold pieces. Her planned rescue of Spike and Discord and the likely subsequent encounter with the Squid Wizard was still some ways away, but there was much preparing that needed to be done until then, and every little bit right now helped. Perhaps she could even raise enough funds to purchase one of those robes that supposedly provided protection against flames or blades. Wishful thinking perhaps considering how expensive those particular robes were, but the potions and less flashy magical equipment out there that were more reasonably priced had their uses as well, and who knew, Rarity might have enough for a mercenary mage like Elkraps had suggested, maybe two if they were especially desperate for work.

She packed everything away, the wand, the book and scrolls, the gems, and after some hesitation, the skull housing the Moonmaiden. As much as Rarity wanted to avoid disturbing Selune, she didn’t feel safe leaving her here all alone, so into the the bag the skull went, carefully, of course, and only after there had been no protest from the goddess when Rarity picked up her vessel to move it. Then it was down the stairs and out the inn’s front door as Rarity made her way through the weaving streets until she reached her destination.

There before her was a small, dimly lit building with a dull blue canopy and a display case of various knickknacks ranging from books to dolls to a complete set of silver dinnerware behind a dusty window. Its entrance consisted of both a large, somewhat rusted gate in front and a standard, run-of-the-mill wooden door right behind it, and hanging from the gate’s old iron bars was a sign that read ‘Welcome, We’re Open’ and had a faded image of a small brown chess piece. Not exactly the most welcoming scene nor was it the kind of establishment Rarity would have sought out on her own, but the place had the Hag’s Haven’s recommendation for its cheap appraisals and decent bids. It was where Rarity had sold all those silver plates from Valmeyjar’s temple at a price she really couldn’t complain about, and the lack of judgment from the attendant over the plunder’s source didn’t hurt.

The gate swung with a creak as Rarity pulled it back, and when she pushed the door behind it open, the shrill clank of a broken bell rang throughout the store. Inside was as cluttered and disorganized as the display behind the glass, with tables and shelves scattered about the room that held a seemingly random assortment of toys, kitchen appliances, scraps of clothing, preserved insects, jewelry, stacks of paintings, cages empty save for tuffs of fur or feathers, musical instruments of wood, brass, and even bone, massive bound tomes to loose pamphlets, even a number of daggers and swords as well as a full suit of armor shoved in one corner. It might have been easier to list the items that weren’t among the wares, which even included things Rarity couldn’t recognize like a heavy looking box with a pane of glass on one side that made her reflection appear upset, no matter what angle she looked at it from.

A few small orbs of light floated above, giving off the bare minimum light necessary to see and navigate through the maze of merchandise. Slowly, Rarity walked to the end of the store, looking around for the clerk. “Hello?” she called out. “I’m here to get some items evaluated and possibly sold.”

“Ah. Yes, of course,” came a low voice from behind Rarity, causing her heart to nearly beat out of her chest. At least she didn’t shriek out loudly and try to take the poor shopkeeper’s head off with her dagger like her first time here, a fact Rarity took no pride in as she turned to face the pony standing behind her. They were an older stallion, ashy white gray with a grayish purple mane that was braided back into a long ponytail. He wore a brown tunic over a white long sleeved undershirt, and there was a red scarf around his neck. The top of his head had a pointed hat with a folded brim, and as he adjusted the pince-nez style glasses perched upon his snout, he gave Rarity a small small.

“Hello, dear customer,” the stallion said, continuing in that soft, raspy tone, like a cross between a whisper and a croak, that toed the line of just being audible. “My apologies for the sudden, ah, it’s you I see. And more to sell?“

“That’s right,” Rarity answered. She followed the shopkeeper to the counter in the back of the store, and like with all the surfaces here, it was covered in miscellaneous items.

“Well, I suppose returning suppliers are good for business too,” he said with a sigh and a grunt as he walked around to the other side and cleared some room on the countertop. “Tea?” he offered, gesturing to a tray carrying a complete porcelain set.

“Not today, thank you,” she said politely. A nice cup of hot tea did sound wonderful, but her thirst was killed by the thick layer of dust covering the tea cups.

“Straight to business then. I can certainly appreciate that.” He cleaned the lens of his spectacles with a pocket handkerchief with one hoof, and with his other he gestured to the open space before him and Rarity. “Now, as always, there will be a nonnegotiable evaluation fee, a more than fair twenty gold.”

The required amount made its way from Rarity’s side of the counter to the stallion’s. His grin grew as he scooped up the coins. “Wonderful. Now, what do you have for me today?”

The bag of gems was first. The stallion opened the bag and shook the stones out. After examining them carefully under a magnifying glass for a few minutes, he looked up. “Well, pretty little things, aren’t they? Unfortunately, only the rubies will be worth much as spell components.“ He hummed. “I’ll give you twenty five gold for the whole lot. You might find a better deal at a craft shop or maybe a desperate jeweler, but with these not being the best quality, that’s a pretty big might.”

“Very well,” Rarity said with a sigh. She had expected as much from her own assessment, but the disappointment still stung. “If that’s the best you can do for me, then I accept.”

“Good, good,” muttered the stallion as he jotted something down in his ledger. “Now, was there’s anything else?”

The mare’s wallet netted her a measly five copper coins while the wand was deemed worthy of two golden ones. From there they moved on to the scrolls from the masked mare, the sight of which caused the shopkeeper’s face to light up. “Ah. Finally, something worth taking a look at,” he said as he untied the ribbons that were keeping the scrolls shut and unraveled them over the counter, exposing the strange symbols and shapes that were written upon each parchment to the light. “Let’s see here, hm, hm, yes.”

Some several minutes passed before he had finished his examination. “This one,” he said, pointing his hoof at the scroll in question, “has a spell of dimension door inscribed into it. Powerful spell and very useful. I’m offering you, two hundred gold for it.” He waited for Rarity to response with a nod before moving on. “Now as this one, this one is a spell scroll for haste. Useful as well but fairly common around these parts, I’m afraid. I’d be more than happy to take it off your hooves for fifty gold.”

As far as Rarity could tell, the offered prices were more than reasonable, but it wouldn’t hurt to try for a little extra. “I don’t suppose,” she said hesitantly, biting down lightly on her lower lip before giving a small smile and a flutter of her lashes, “there’d be a small bonus for providing the both of them, would there? Perhaps as a little recognition for a returning supplier?”

The stallion chuckled. “If you’ll sell me both spell scrolls here and now, I’ll throw in an additional ten gold for a total of two hundred and sixty, but that’s as high as I’m willing to go. Do we have a deal?”

Well, it was something at least. Rarity nodded then turned to the third and final scroll. “And that one?” she asked.

“Ah. Yes. That one.” The stallion’s grin faded slightly. “That right there is a teleport scroll. Very rare, even within the schools, and normally I’d pay top coin for the chance to add that to my wares. Unfortunately, it seems that a destination has already been set for it, severely limiting its usefulness and value. Now, if I at least knew what this destination was and where the scroll would end up taking you, I’d might still be willing to pay a good price for it, but as it is now, I can’t buy this.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous, even for me. For all we know, it might take you straight to the bottom of an ocean or inside a volcano.”

Rarity frowned as she took a second to think. “Would it be possible to determine where or what the set destination is?”

“Possible?” The shopkeeper rocked his head side to side as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Well yes, but it would be very difficult. Seems as though whoever prepared this spell wanted to keep all that a secret, and it would take a much crafter creature than I to figure that mystery out.” He rerolled the teleportation scroll and gave it back to Rarity. “So that’ll be two sixty for the scrolls, plus another twenty seven and five copper for the rest. Was there anything else you wanted to sell to me? The band of protection around your leg for instance, or maybe...”

His eyes fell to Rarity’s neck, and he ran his tongue over his lips as Rarity’s hoof immediately went up to clasp the Queen of Fey’s symbol beneath her robes. “My offer still stands,” the stallion said. “Ten, no, make that twelve thousand gold for your necklace plus anything in my store, anything at all, that catches your fancy.”

“A generous offer, but as I said the last time, the necklace is not for sale,” Rarity said, though there was a noticeable delay before she responded. That was a lot of gold she was saying no to, gold that could potentially be better put to use than the last bit of magic the symbol contained. And yet, Rarity knew fully well that if it had not been for the Queen and the magic they had lent to her, she would not have gotten this far. Money was nice and all, but loyalty and relations were worth a great deal more, and who knew if or when that final fey favor would be needed. She shook her head, both in answer to the proposal and to do away with any further doubts and temptations.

“But I do have one more item I’d like you to take a look at.” Rarity took out the final item, the mare’s unintelligible journal. “I’m not sure if it’s really worth anything since it’s been used, but it still has a few clean pages.”

“Hm, I see.” The stallion spent a minute flipping through the first few pages before closing the book and putting it back down on the counter. “Best I can do is a hundred gold.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rarity let out a small, uncertain titter. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say one hundred gold for the book.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that the spells in here are all pretty bog-standard. Fireball, mage armor, magic missile, shield, your typical affair, really, and it’s not even all that full. Still, there is a market for used spell books, especially amongst the youngsters who haven’t earned their access to the schools’ private libraries.” He motioned to the shelves behind him which were stuffed with books of all shapes and sizes. “So one hundred gold, and I can guarantee that you won’t find a better price anywhere else.”

“Done,” Rarity exclaimed a little too quickly in her surprise and excitement. She cleared her throat. “Ahem, I mean, that will be acceptable, thank you. And that will be all for today.”

The stallion nodded and placed the book to the side with the rest of the store’s newest additions. He took out his ledger and started to write. “Now then, before we conclude our business, perhaps you’d like to take a look around and see if anything catches your eye. You look like the fashionable type. Well, I got a new selection of hats the other day that you might find some interest in.” He pointed to the rack of gaudy headwear behind him with the back of his pen. “Each one has its own unique effect. That one over there, on the very left, will turn you into the opposite gender when you put it on, for instance, and that one’ll turn your mane green and your coat brown.”

“Do you have any magic potions?” Rarity asked, fighting back a grimace at the imagined image of herself in those colors whilst wearing a hot pink, blue striped fez.

“Potions? No, I’m afraid not.” The stallion laughed nervously. “I’m, er, not supposed to sell consumables ever since, well, the details aren’t important. Too experimental, too risky.” He shook his head. “Yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere for those, although I do have a teapot around here somewhere that will turn any liquid brewed within into a fast acting laxative. Why, if I’m not mistaken, it‘s this one right here.” He patted the teapot sitting on the tray. “It’s yours for only twenty five gold.”

Again, Rarity resisted the urge to make a face, keeping her composure as she was filled with relief over her refusing the proprietor’s earlier hospitality. “If no potions, then would you happen to have any protective gear? Not armor, per se,” she added with a quick glance at the full suit of plate mail stacked in the corner. “Preferably something light.”

“Ah. I do have a few pieces, but you may want to check the crafting district. They will have a wider selection and of higher quality, but it comes at a higher cost of course. I mostly just get the scraps and leftovers from the apprentices.” The stallion left the counter and motioned Rarity to follow him. “This cape here, for example,” he said, pulling out a large tattered square of orange cloth, “has some properties that might interest you. Don’t let it’s appearance deceive you. The fabric has been enchanted to be tough enough to deflect blows, blades, and even magic, to a degree. Look.” From the same table, he drew a wicked dagger and stabbed it into the cloth. The cape resisted the dagger’s sharp, jagged tip, and when he presented the cloth to Rarity, she found no sign of damage.

“Now, I should warn you that there are a few unfortunate effects,” he continued as Rarity continued to examine both the cape along with the demonstrative dagger. “Wearing it will reportedly make you more susceptible to certain magical effects, charms and enchantments and such. With that in mind, we’re looking at around, oh, a discounted two hundred seventy five gold. What do you think?”

Rarity frowned as she stretched the cloth out and let one side fall heavily onto the floor. “I think it’s rather large, for a cape,” she said. If anything, its size made it better suited as the comforter of a bed than an article of clothing and not for some tiny child’s cot either. “I can’t imagine it be very easy to move around in this.”

“Yes, well, I suppose not.” The shopkeeper rubbed the back of his head. “The cloth’s durability does mean any attempts to shorten it will end in failure, unfortunately. Hm, what if I took off another twenty five?”

Two hundred fifty gold was still a good chunk of her earnings, and the protection the cloth could have given her just wasn’t worth all its downsides. She shook her head and placed the cloth back on the table after folding it neatly. “Did you have anything else? Again, it should be something light and easy to carry around.”

“Light and easy to carry. Hm, yes, right this way.” The stallion led the way to some drawers in the back, and after a bit of rummaging, he produced both an anklet of brass with the image of a shield pressed into it and what appeared to be a single shoulder pad of tanned and treated cloth that had some indecipherable runes stitched into its surface. He held the anklet out to Rarity first. “This band has the spell shield attached to it. Simply raise the hoof it’s around and shout to form a protective magic barrier for next few seconds. It’ll only work once per day, however, so obviously best saved for emergencies.”

The wide ring of brass was set to one side while the stallion presented his second item. “Now this here is an interesting little device. Just strap it to your shoulder and press down on this little symbol like so for a second of two, and you’ll be under the protection of the mage armor spell. The effects only last for about a minute instead of the standard eight hours, however, and like the shielding band, there is only one daily use. Still, despite those limitations, both items can be very useful in the right hooves and are, as you requested, very portable. Affordable too. The only issue would be the matter of attunement.”

“I’m sorry, the matter of?”

“Attunement. Maybe you’ve heard it under a different term, but some magic items require a, let’s call it a bond with them and their user before they can operate,” the shopkeeper explained. He pointed to the anklet and the shoulder pad. “Like these two. Now, for whatever reason, we can only attune to three items. The schools’ eggheads might know more about how it actually works, but attempting more than three causes the older items to lose their attunement. You’ve already got two items attuned to you, that necklace of yours plus the band you’re wearing, so you’d only be able to make use of one of these here. That is, unless of course, you were to sell me one of yours to make some room.”

Rarity caught the shopkeeper’s gaze wandering back down to her neckline, but she ignored it to instead focus on these new restrictions and her options. As useful as the two items being presented to her sounded, selling the Queen of Fey’s symbol wasn’t happening. The bronze anklet that was currently around her leg, however, might be worth the trade. She held up her hoof and let her sleeve roll down, exposing the anklet. “How much would I get for this piece?”

“For that I’d be willing to, hm.” The shopkeeper appeared to struggle for an answer as he scratched his chin and hemmed and hawed. “I mean, even if it’s been used, it’s still a very good find. Oh, alright, I’ll tell you what. If you give me that bangle, I’ll let you take both of these home with you for absolutely no cost whatsoever. How does that sound?”

The offer certainly sounded appealing, it was two items for the price of one after all, and after a short consideration, Rarity removed the bronze anklet from her leg and gave it to the shopkeeper. In return, the brass anklet and the shoulder pad went over to her. “So how does this attuning work?” she asked the stallion as she followed him back to the store’s counter to conclude their business. “What would I have to do?”

“Oh not much. Just wear them for a few hours until they start feeling comfortable, then maybe practice using them so you get a feel of how they work,” he explained. He got out a pair of scales and, with a strained groan, a set of weights and placed them all down on the counter, right between himself and Rarity. “And will you be wanting something for some offense to go with all that extra defense? I do have a nice selection of blades that cause their wielders to suffer from only the mildest of curses. Perhaps a nice rapier to go with your dagger? I have one made from real silver, if you’re interested. Well worth the potential argyria if you asked me, and the poisoning is only temporary anyways.”

As elegant as such a sword sounded, the kind one might expect to see on the cover of a romance novel, strapped to the side of a handsome prince, Rarity understood that while she could now say she was at least somewhat proficient in dagger work, she most definitely could not say the same about swordplay. Playing around with anything larger would more likely cause harm to herself than to any foes, and she had neither the time nor the instruction for proper practice.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see what daggers were available. Having at least one other spare would probably be a good idea given Rarity’s track record of losing her weapons. Her current one worked fine, but from her last bout, the curved southern blade appeared to have a more difficult time piercing through fur and flesh than the obsidian one that Elder Woods had given her. It’s be nice to replace the weapon she had left lodged in the shin of that troll, a misfortune Rarity continued to curse, but the store didn’t seem to have anything suitable. Oh, there were magical daggers, blades that guided their user to strike their target true, blades that upon finding their way into flesh would become serrated to deal extra damage and pain, even one particular blade that when thrown would create a massive arc of lightning in path, but Rarity didn’t want to deal with the risks of her own weapon suddenly turning against her or smelling like rotting cabbages every time she used it.

“I think I’ll be fine without anything new, for now,” she eventually said. “That’ll be everything.”

The shopkeeper nodded and began to carefully weigh out stacks of gold coins on the scale. Once the two sides were balanced, the stallion scooped the coins into a decently sized bag and pushed the bag over to Rarity. “There you are, that’s three hundred and eighty seven gold for the two spell scrolls, the spell book, the wand, and the gems. Oh, and five copper for the wallet.” Five copper coins made it to Rarity’s side as well. Rarity pocketed the bag and coins in her saddlebags, put away her new equipment, and after exchanging some final pleasantries, Rarity left the dark, dusty shop and stepped out into the bright streets.

There were still the various potion shops to browse as well as the crafting district that the pawn store attendant had suggested checking out, but before Rarity could start burning through her newly acquired funds, she had a couple of things to take care of first. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, Rarity dug through her bags, moving items around and redistributing the weight to better accommodate the heavy bag of gold. She then put on her new brass bangle and held up her foreleg like she had been instructed. Nothing happened, but based on what the shopkeeper had told her, that was to be expected. Hopefully, by the end of the hour, the band would fit better too.

Rarity took out and considered donning her other new piece of gear as well, for about a second before her fashion sense kicked in and she recognized just how silly she’d look walking around town with a single pad on her shoulder. It would probably be better to try it on in private, so back into her bags it went, and as she was shuffling through them, her hoof caught onto something. The spell scroll of teleportation came out of the bag as she withdrew, the loop of ribbon keeping the parchment rolled up having gotten caught around Rarity’s hoof.

“I supposed I should probably look into where this would end up taking me. Just one more thing to get done,” she said with a sigh as she leaned back and held the scroll up to the sky. “Maybe Dean Thigliwt could figure that out, though I’d hate to bother her over something like this.”

“The scroll will teleport you straight to the keep of the Squid Wizard’s fortress.”

Rarity immediate sat up and looked around for the speaker, but the only creatures who were nearby were the few pedestrians strolling past without paying any heed to her. Suddenly, Rarity noticed that her bags had grown warm, and when she opened them, she had to squint through the light that was coming from within. She gave the area one more scan to confirm that there was no one around who might be watching before reaching into the bag and removing the glowing skull that housed Selune. A projection of the alicorn came forth and stood before Rarity, her translucent form barely visible in the light of the sun.

“Was that you?” Rarity asked, to which Selune answered with a nod.

“I am able to access not only the memories of this mare from the time when she was alive, but also from when her body was just a vile puppet under the Squid Wizard’s control,” said the ailcorn. It was a little jarring to hear her voice come from the skull in Rarity’s hooves rather than from the image standing in front of her. “That may be due to this body’s previous animation by dark magic, but in any case, the spell contained in this scroll is connected to a teleportation circle in the basement of the Squid Wizard’s keep and would bring us there once activated. It would appear that the Squid Wizard had this scroll prepared so that his servants could bring you immediately and directly to him upon your recapture.”

“Oh. Well then that encounter could have ended very poorly for me.” Rarity let out a nervous chuckle as her throat constructed and dried. “That’s one disaster dodged.”

“Indeed. I am uncertain as to if the owner of that store will accept the scroll now that its destination is known nor do I know if a one way passage to the basement of a magical squid despot would be worth much.” The image of Selune shrugged. “Considering the spell’s intended purpose, it may be best to simply dispose of the scroll. As long as it is around, you will be at greater risk of being delivered to the Squid Wizard.” She started to fade. “That is my counsel, but what to do with the scroll is ultimately your decision.”

The skull became silent, and much of its glowing subsided, with the lights in the place of its eyes remaining. Rarity put the skull back into the bag first before returning her attention to the scroll. Staring at the roll of parchment, she shuddered. If things was gone any differently yesterday during the attack in Valmeyjar’s temple, Rarity could’ve been in the Squid Wizard’s custody right this very moment, and who knew if she’d get a chance to escape a second time. Selune was right, the scroll was dangerous, and the safest and smartest option certainly would be to render this easy avenue into the Squid Wizard’s clutches unusable.

Her thoughts should have been about how one went about destroying a magic scroll, but as Rarity continued to consider the Squid Wizard’s scroll and Selune’s words, her mind went in a different direction. The idea that worm its way into her head was risky, dangerous, and desperate, but as it quickly expanded from a simple idea to the blueprints of a plan, it began to gain appeal. It wasn’t the safest option, and it probably wasn’t the smartest either, but it was an option that Rarity decided was worth looking into.

She stored the scroll away and got up. There was still much had needed to be done today, and though her itinerary hadn’t really changed, she at least now had something to focus on and work towards.