Lunge. The magically held sword shot past Rarity’s right, the point away from her. Her gaze burnt through the grated shield that covered her face, watching that dull weapon dive inside her opponent’s blade, and low, through their own defence.
Parry. She had misjudged, and their own basket, the guard between blade and grip, struck against the blade of Rarity’s sword. Instead striking the tight, white coat her opponent wore, her blade was shunted aside. It still hit the pony in front of her, and hard enough that they hissed through their mask, but it was not enough to stop them.
Riposte. As Rarity’s own foil pulled away, the thin, overgrown needle cutting through the air in an arc, her opponent shuffled forward, and quickly brought their weapon to bear on Rarity’s neck, inside of her own guard. Rarity backed up, hooves sliding on the mat beneath her with practiced elegance.
Parry. Concentrated effort pulled the inertia of the light, agile weapon, and she flicked it underneath the jabbing needle, the tip of which just barely missed the protective gorget about her throat. The air hissed almost as violently as her foe, but the strike was redirected, clear over her shoulder, forcing the other unicorn to overextend.
Riposte. The seamstress-cum-swordswoman grinned, twisting her blade up, and wrenching the other sword high. The invisible thread she envisioned stitched its way around the rising implement, and she drove her own weapon down, aiming high outside.
The weapon struck its mark, and the blade bent, confirming as much to the audience to their side. Rarity dug it in for a moment more, just relishing in the win, and then withdrew her foil back to her side, blade pointed down and away. She bowed, as did her former opponent a few moments later, and then they rose at the same time. The audience, seeing their show come to a stop, murmured and dispersed, some pairing off, and others to watch the various fights still passing about them.
Rarity tucked her foil under one for leg, and then used her magic to flick her mask up. “Thank you for the match, Broad Strokes." Rarity extended out a hoof for him to take, and he met her happily.
"Ah, it's perfectly fine, fun even, even if you trounced me." Broad Strokes lifted his mask, the dark blue stallion grinning as wide as Rarity. "New blood like you give old colts like myself a few things to learn and keep us on our toes. Not to mention how you are so light on your hooves." Broad Strokes rose his head, and lowered his gaze into a leer. "I wonder what else you could teach me."
Rarity's smug grin grew, and she turned, stepping off the one mat of many in the hall they occupied. "You better watch what you say next, or I might have to try something untoward with my pommel."
"Oh, how unsportsmare like," Broadstrokes retorted. His horn glowed, and two clear bottles of water lifted up from a pile against one peach colored wall. He floated one to himself, and the other to Rarity, which she took in with her own magic.
"Please, you should see my friends. One would try swinging a foil even if you told her that is not how to use it." She unscrewed the cap, and tipped her bottle back, swallowing down a few mouthfuls. “Actually, on reflection, most of them would.”
A loud thump drew the attention of both unicorns, as they spun their heads toward the source. Hooves slid and bumped all around them, but it was uncommon for somepony to fall outright.
It turns out that was exactly what had happened, however. A unicorn mare had somehow tripped over their own hooves, and ended up in a bundle of herself, with her weapon clattering before her as her concentration broke. Standing above them was an earth pony mare, with her hoof bent into a firm grip of her own foil pointed down at the unicorn. While it was hard to see through her face shield, Rarity could swear the earth pony was smirking.
The unicorn remained on the floor, panting for a few moments, before she batted the sword pointed at her with a hoof, and rose up. There was an audible harrumph, and she turned her tail to her partner, stomping off to one of the benches at the side of the hall.
“What was that about, I wonder,” said Broad Strokes.
“I’m not sure.” Rarity shrugged, eyeing the remaining mare, and she tilted her head.
“She must be good,” Broad Stroke said, a light note of wonder in his voice. “She’s using a foil. I’ve heard of only a few earth ponies that don’t use the épée.”
Rarity hummed, and she tapped one hoof away at the floor, her face falling to a neutral contemplation. “Whatever would be the reason why, darling?” she asked, eyeing the long, thin, rectangular sword, one very similar to Rarity’s.
“It’s easier for them,” Broad Strokes answered matter-of-factly. “You and I can only go for the chest and neck, but fights with the épée can be landed anywhere, head, flank, even the legs.”
Rarity’s eyes widened, and the uncertain fall of her features lifted into another grin. “Ah, I had forgotten about that. It has been a little while.” She started toward the mare, and one of her white coated ears twitched as Broad Strokes spoke again.
“Wait, are you-”
“-About to challenge her? Of course, darling!” Rarity threw a smile over her shoulder toward her companion. “I am always looking to perfect my craft, so she should be a perfect match for me.”
Rarity turned forward again, and her horn glowed, pulling her mask back down over her face. A few little tugs here and there also ensured her mane was tucked neatly away into her hood, as uncomfortable as it was, but she’d rather deal with the sweat than deal with an impromptu visit to the manedresser’s.
Rarity strode through the hall, and stepped up before the earth pony mare, her new foe. Rarity could not see the other mare’s face at all through both face shields, but the little nod, and the movement onto the mat quickly answered the challenge she was to voice. Rarity followed up to the mat herself, her magic gripping her sword under her leg, and neatly drawing it out before her.
“Best of three?” Rarity asked, almost sang, in her light, delicate voice.
The mare ahead of her nodded again, and held leg forward and down, with the blade lifted up.
“En-garde!” Rarity called, moving her sword out, mirroring her opponent’s posture, if not the grip, with her telekinesis. The two stood for a moment, Rarity’s eyes examining her foe, sizing her up and watching for the faintest muscle twitch. She drew in a breath, preparing herself to bark out-
“Allez!”
The other lunged forward, her body going low, with the weapon striking up at Rarity’s neck. Rarity’s eyes had watched the other mare’s two forelimbs, at the shuffling of the supporting leg on the floor, and the way the sword-leg dipped and rose up, even if it was an incredibly small movement.
Rarity’s own foil drove through the attack, twisting around the oncoming blade like thread on a spool, and she used the dance to twist and lift the mare’s grip to the side, before following with a lunge of her own, pushing inside and low compared to her opponent’s guard.
Rarity gasped as her sword’s blade simply left her field of vision, aimed high with a firm and quick smack from a quick, rotating strike. The other mare’s leg turned and quickly straightened out, with another shuffle-leap forward, and the blade struck Rarity dead centre in the chest. She was thankful for the lamé she wore, or she would have bruised something fierce.
The other mare held the sword against Rarity for a moment, before retreating back, taking her place again just behind the middle of the mat. Rarity, felt a little deflated, her shoulders slumping for a moment, but she set her jaw, and took up her place in front of her opponent once more.
With a deep breath, Rarity shouted, “En-garde-!”
“Allez!”
The sudden call of the earth pony startled Rarity, but she managed to parry the high outside jab. Rarity tried a lunge of her own, almost driving her sword straight from chest to chest, but she was knocked up once more, her sword’s edge sliding along the earth pony’s metal face shield with an irritating, high pitched squeal.
This time, Rarity was able to draw her weapon back and turn it down, and like a pendulum, it tilted to the side, making the earth pony’s strike go wide, past Rarity’s shoulder. She tried to bring up her weapon, get another thrust in, but the earth pony’s weapon was back before her in a snap.
The two thrust and pushed against one another, their weapons clattering and sliding in a frantic cacophony, with a loud ring as the blunt tips of their swords briefly caught on the saucer like guards. Rarity’s eyes watched that other sword thwart her every attempt to get through, but as she teased the limits of her legal reach, she found an opening.
Rarity reared up, opening her chest and torso for a thrust, and it came as expected. Just before the earth pony’s blade caught her gorget, Rarity had spun her sword behind her neck, swapping sides in a risky and quick maneuver, but it paid off. The saucer of her foil caught the attacking blade, and twisted it up, and back, and she had her weapon on the inside. With no room to pull back, and no time to adjust, the earth pony could do little as Rarity’s foil made contact, barely, with the top left of her opponent’s chest.
The two stood there, panting heavily, drawing oxygen deep into their lungs once more. Rarity’s breaths slowly grew into a laugh, and she straightened back up, bringing her sword with her.
“My goodness, you put up a good fight,” Rarity said, following with a long, deep inhale. “Let’s see who is the best swordsmare today, hm?”
The two took their places again, once more bringing their swords to guard before them. Rarity drew in a breath, but she paused as she saw the earth pony do the same, cutting herself off just before she spoke out.
Each mare stood, silent, their breaths held in their lungs. That moment of silence made it clear that every other soul in that peach hall had apparently stopped what they were doing, and Rarity could feel a dozen heads turned toward her. She smirked beneath her mask, and twitched.
“Allez!” Both mares barked, and dove at one another. They both seemed to strike at the same time, both swords going for a low, inside stab, and both their swords bounced off one another. Rarity twirled her blade about, and took the chance to not just parry, but to once more spool blade around blade, as difficult as that was with two straight weapons.
The whirling, rotating motion kept the earth pony’s sword at bay, stuck in a constant parry, until Rarity’s weapon came down in one last clockwise twist, and pushed down. Her blade made contact, and bent, and she stamped a hoof down triumphantly with a single, self assured, “Hah!” in her throat.
Then she registered the pressure on her chest, and followed the other mare’s sword leg, to the metal in its grip, and the point pressed to her jacket.
“That was such… a dirty move,” the other mare said, her voice about as soft and graceful as Rarity’s own, safe for the breathless quality and her interrupting pants. “Trapping my sword like that was clever, but dirty.”
Rarity rolled her eyes, and leant a little into the weapon at her chest. “So was calling allez right after I called en-garde, so I’d say we’re about even, wouldn’t you?”
The tension between them was reflected in the ponies around them, as muscles tensed, looks turned to worry, and a pair of earth ponies squared themselves up and prepared to disperse the possible corps-à-corps that was about to ensue.
Those looks turned to confusion as both mares started to laugh, first softly, then into highly unrefined giggling. Rarity let her weapon clatter to the floor, and she pulled her hood off her head with her hooves, as did the other mare. While her long, purple mane fell over Rarity’s shoulders, the usual bounce and curl curtailed by being confined and exposed to seat, the grey coated mare exposed what ought to usually be a quaffed, swept back mane of black.
They both stared at each other as they laughed for a few moments more, and the audience about them relaxed with them, some even laughing themselves, if a bit uncertain as to why.
“I should have expected the best cellist I know would be good with a sword,” Rarity managed to get out as her laughter died down. “And you fight like you talk, so dry, so…” Rarity rotated a hoof around as she thought, but was interrupted by Octavia before her thoughts provided an appropriate adjective.
“All that seamstressing has paid off over the years, Rarity,” Octavia said, grinning with pride for herself and her opponent. “That sword was like a needle.”
“I suppose some of my skills carried over, yes.” Rarity nodded, beaming smugly.
“Well,” Octavia said, lifting her hood back over her head, securing it and the face shield over her muzzle. “Best three of five?” Closer now, and knowing where to look, Rarity could clearly see that same purple mischief, and an enthused smirk on Octavia’s lips.
Rarity giggled again, using her horn to lift her hood over her head, and her sword to the ready. “Certainly,” Rarity responded, with a smirk of her own.
Author's Note
I apologise if any actual fencers find something cringe-worthy about the fights or language used.
