“Well, how about that?” Oblivious to the concern displayed behind her, Rainbow Dash looked mightily pleased by the sight of a fellow pegasus on the wing.

“It does provide some hope as to the allowed behavior for your ilk outside of cities, though our host’s concern is … concerning” noted Rarity, exhaustion overruling her desire to find a synonym.

“It is not a concern, countess,” the stallion corrected. “It is a certainty. This is grave danger, and we should retreat to the interior immediately.” The tailor said nothing, but her expression conveyed more or less the sentiment of the stallion.

Rainbow Dash kept her eyes on the distant-but-approaching pegasus. “Well, like, you can’t know that. Not that I don’t think you’re smart, but–”

“What else would a pegasus on wing indicate?” interjected the stallion, noticeably more rushed.

“Lots of things, actually,” shot back Rainbow Dash, visibly bristling.

Rarity shot a glare at Rainbow Dash. “Not the time, Rainbow.”

“Oh, well, forgive me for being a little pissed about–”

The little tailor gave a piercing scream, enough to shut Rainbow Dash up. All present turned to follow her gaze skyward. In all the hullabaloo, the approaching-yet-distant pegasus had, by virtue of an attack dive, become an imminent-and-closing pegasus. With a better view, his (he was now identifiable as a stallion, if a small one) slung sword could be seen, which at least answered the argument at hand.

More worryingly, a rapidly descending spherical object was headed directly for the top of the tower. Rarity didn’t exactly know what it was the pegasus had chucked towards her, but she knew it wasn’t good. Reflexively, her horn lit as strongly as it could, wrapping the object in a wiggly aura. Her telekinesis was never world class, even in an un-addled state, but it was enough to give the thing a solid push downwards, enduring it wouldn’t land on top of the tower.

Unfortunately for Rarity, her field also seemed, at the time, to be particularly good at catching things on fire. This was especially bad because the object, as it turned out, was a magically-powered crystalline bomb.

It was even worse because it had not quite cleared the parapets when it went off.

“AUGH!” she screamed, both because her field had been unceremoniously exploded and because she had felt a splinter draw a line across (and hopefully not into) her withers.

A moment later, a matching “Fuck!” flew from Rainbow Dash.

Rarity took a quick moment to survey. Rainbow Dash had fallen to the floor, but didn’t appear to be injured. The two locals were mostly unharmed, although a few little pricks of blood had sprouted upon the tailor’s exposed areas. Both had frozen up completely, still in the same pose they had been in before the bomb. A final look up showed the pegasus finishing his dive into a vertical loop, pulling into a high orbit to plot his next move, clearly believing he was safe from the obviously-flightless ponies he had targeted.

Just stay there, thought Rarity, wishing all her future enemies would possess the same level of hubris. First thing was first, though. “Rainbow, take yourself and the others and go somewhere below.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash, back onto her hooves, took a step towards Rarity. “Rarity, I’m not going to just abandon you! That dude is trying to kill us!”

“I am aware.” Rarity quick-stepped back to her shotgun, one barrel still loaded with birdshot. “But there’s nothing you can do for me up here.”

“But–”

Rarity cut her off. “This isn’t a discussion, and I’m not going to let you put yourself into danger for no reason.” She gestured towards the stairs, the locals still present. “And you need to put them somewhere saf-defensible, too, because they’re not going anywhere without prodding and they can’t stay up here. Do you know where your sword is?”

“I left it by the bed I slept in last night.”

“Put that on.” Rarity nodded. “And take my rifle too. There should be one more charge in the stock.”

Rainbow Dash scooped up and slung the rifle, all the while looking around for additional threats. “Do you see anypony else?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anypony. In your state, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

A pause. “Okay, I’ll go.” Rainbow Dash took as hasty of steps as she could towards the others as she could, still eyeing the airborne assassin. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Rainbow, it’s a pegasus on the wing, and I have a fucking shotgun.” Rarity scoffed, grabbing said fucking shotgun and checking the flash-pan. “I think you have the danger levels a bit backwards. Now go. I’ll rendezvous once I’ve finished pulling his teeth out of the ground.”

With a final look, Rainbow Dash dipped below, shepherding the others before her.

Once she was gone, Rarity lay on her back, pulling the shotgun to her shoulder (and ignoring the wet feeling on her upper back.) She caught the pegasus lazily enter her field of vision, then, with all the mental math she had been practicing for the last hour or so, swung the shotgun muzzle at the right speed to intersect with his path.

“You poor, dumb bastard.”

“fizz-crack!”

Muffled by the stonework, Rarity’s gunshot was decreased in audible violence, if not in literal. Rainbow Dash still ducked from the sound.

“Come on.” She gestured with a head-throw (not trusting herself to stay upright three-hooved) at the door of the bedroom in which she had spent the last night. It had a slender window – an arrowslit, Rainbow Dash remembered – which wasn’t exactly ideal in case of another assault by pegasus, but it also had a real door, which made it by far the best location in the mostly-doorless structure. “Both of you get in there.”

Mutely, both unicorns present filed in. The pinpricks of blood on the tailor hadn’t sprouted into rivers, though her vacant eyes betrayed the severity of her panic.

“Stack something up in front of the window” continued Rainbow Dash, shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. She sat down, unslinging the rifle as she did.

Neither unicorn moved.

“Come on!” Rainbow Dash felt her ears throw back, her pace of breathing picking up as the fight-adrenaline kicked in. “Do you want to catch an arrow to the back of the head or something?”

The stallion’s horn lit, but his field hadn’t surrounded any of the suitable objects – beds, a table – yet.

“Flip a bed up!” Rainbow Dash pointed to the one she had used the night before. “Over the window. Now!”

After a pause, the stallion finally did as he was told, the bed slowly flipping upwards. Rainbow Dash wasn’t an expert on field strength, but the progress of the furniture seemed to indicate a fairly piddly amount of power – then again, she did hang around princesses and other Canterlot-bred unicorns, so her frame of reference was a little off. Still, it was enough to, after what seemed like an eternity, put the bed in position.

A well timed position, because something *thwuncked* its way against the wooden slab almost as soon as it moved over. The tailor squealed, pressing herself against the corner of the room like a cornered cat.

“Shit! Okay, uh–” Rainbow Dash, deciding it was better to do so sooner rather than later, recovered her falchion from where she had left it. Taking a position by the other bed, she unsheathed the sword, leaving it on the bed in grabbing distance. She was mildly cognizant that this was the first time she had ever wielded a weapon in anger, but she didn’t exactly have time to mull about that “–guess there’s another one out there.” A pause. “Or Rarity missed.”

The stallion had composed himself somewhat, and had bravely placed himself between the tailor and the window. “How many do you think there are?”

“I don’t know. At least two, because I bet Rares probably nailed the guy. But there’s only two of us somepony would want to kill, so lets just hope they’re cheap and only sent one pony each.” She, remembering the other weapon in the room, pulled the rifle to herself, opening the patch box to reveal a single paper cartridge. She liberated it from its confines, ripping it with her teeth and beginning the arduous loading process (which she had fortunately been instructed in earlier in the day.) After applying powder to the flashpan, she dumped the rest into the bore, then set the ball into the rifling with a hoof-tap.

The stallion looked on curiously. “May I assist with … that?”

Incidentally, yes, he could, as Rainbow Dash’s limited mobility made ramming a difficult proposition. “Yeah. Punch this ball down with the wooden rod under the barrel, then hand it back to me.”

The stallion levitated the rifle over to himself, then set to the task at hoof. A half minute or so of swift *thwack*-ing followed. “And now?”

“Give it back. I need to wind it.” He did so, and she did so, fortunate that the winding key had been left on the lock. She made sure to stash it into the patch box, lest it come flying off upon firing and impact her directly in the face. Task accomplished, she pointed to the remaining horizontal bed. “Can you pull this over so I can use it as a stand?”

His hesitation seemed to indicate he didn’t quite understand the question.

Rainbow Dash gestured to show the desired geometric translation. “Turn it sideways and away from the wall. I can’t stand and aim this thing at the same time.”

Understanding, the stallion’s horn lit. The bed moved a little, scraping in fits and starts.

Rainbow Dash eyed the door. “A little faster, please?”

“It is–” he had begun to sweat from effort, nervousness, or both “–heavy.”

Another field joined his around the bed. Rainbow Dash tracked the origin to the other unicorn in the room, the tailor, whose horn corona shone with those awful streaks around the center. She was visibly pained, but her effort was worthwhile; the bed arrived at the correct position.

With a soft nod of thanks, Rainbow Dash took up position on the bed, rifle pointed at the door. She supposed she could have had the door barricaded instead, but she’d rather have the firing position, as she didn’t think it would take a burly pony particularly long to displace the bed.

The stallion looked back and forth. “Now what?”

“If we’re lucky, whoever shot a bolt at the window will come barging in here and I’ll shoot them in the face. If we’re really lucky, they won’t find us at all.”

They were not, as it turned out, really lucky.

“FIZZ-CRACK”

Rarity hadn’t really ever thought about what a full load of a hundred BB-size pellets would do to a pegasus on the wing, nor could she see the results as her view was occluded by gunsmoke, but the yelp of pain and subsequent heavy “thud” of a pegasus hitting the dirt gave her a pretty good idea.

Curiosity over the details (of both justified “I hope that guy is not going to stab me” and of plain morbid gawking) would have to wait; at a time like this, the last thing a mare would want would be an empty gun. As swiftly as she could, Rarity put a load of the largest supplied pellets on top of a heavy powder charge, then topped it with a full caliber ball. In the meantime, she noticed that she could discern the sound of somepony groaning below the threshold of the parapet.

Well, that justified the loading, at least.

Her task complete, Rarity stood up, wishing she had requested a sling for the fowling piece as well; a bit of quick thinking and the ribbon from one of the previously displayed dressed would have to do for now. That sorted, she proceeded down the wall, ducking in between parapets and remnants of battlements.

It didn’t take long to find the stallion. Crumpled in a ball with a wing and foreleg bent incorrectly and a smattering of bleed-spots, he was a pathetic sight, even without the moaning. Rarity found it hard to scrape up any empathy for the stallion who had attempted to kill her moments ago, but she did find herself wishing that this had been a much swifter incident for her assailant. He didn’t look up as she approached.

No reason to get too close; she sat down on her haunches, her weapon aimed vaguely towards him, flints cocked. “Who sent you?” Rarity had no intention of dragging this out any longer than it had to be, for both their sake; nonetheless, questioning was in order.

The stallion’s answer was a spit of blood that nearly made it to Rarity.

“Lovely.” Rarity aimed the shotgun a little higher. “I don’t think you have any budget for giving lip. Answer the question.”

The stallion put his good foreleg under himself, pushing up into a less-supine position. “Signora, I will not acquiesce to an answer so easily,”he spat with a noticeably thicker accent than the other locals she had spoken to. “Not less than torture will get my master’s name from me.”

“Really? What a terrible shame.” Rarity mused, bringing the muzzles up to the stallion’s eye level. “I have no interest in something as awful as torture, nor do I have the time. If this is the way you want it, I’ll make it quick. Hold still.”

The stallion’s eyes went wide, pupils darting around. It didn’t seem like he really understood what the implement Rarity was holding was, but he definitely understood the stakes. “You, ah, intend to kill me?”

“No, but you intend to be killed, it appears.”

“I see.” The stallion spit out another mouthful. “Then I am allowed to admit. It was Galloparte.”

The first part of his response was a much bigger shock than the second – Rarity had already been well educated on the potential for that one’s agents to be on her trail. “You are allowed to admit?”

“It is in the standard contract for such things – we are to keep secrets to the point of death. As the stakes become death, we are allowed to admit such things if we do desire.”

Rarity thought for a moment. “I don’t think that is what ‘the point of death’ means.”

“It is understood to be so.”

Rarity wasn’t one to argue with tradition. “If you insist.” The muzzles lowered a little. “How did you find me?”

“You announced your title to the vescovo, it was not difficult.” The stallion got his back legs under him, his relatively un-injured (just shot) wing flapping around as he did so. “I do not wish to cut you short, but I must ask what your intentions are for me; I am, due to you, wounded most seriously.”

“I–” Rarity paused, unsure exactly what her intentions were anyway. Morally, she probably had some kind of obligation to render aid, especially considering the would-be assassins cooperation. Logically, it wasn’t like she could send him straight back to where he came from. And practically, she couldn’t just throw him in some oubliette for a while – her castle distinctly lacked a functional one of those. “I suppose I would take your arms, splint your leg, and send you off away from Marelan, not to return.”

“Then let us do so, and most fast, I beg.” He used his good foreleg to draw his sword, a standard-pattern uhlan’s sabre (stolen, or retained from prior service?), then threw it aside before gesturing to the scabbard. “Use this.”

Rarity warily lowered the gun, then slung it in front of her on the ribbon-sling, decocking the flints of half-cock as she did so. She then made her way to the stallion, closing in to the indicated scabbard – all the while scanning for a hidden blade.

Which was not particularly helpful when the stallion punched her as hard as he could in the face.

“… they won’t find us at all.”

The door swung open violently.

The mare in front of them was a sturdily built earth pony, a good bit larger than the other Bitalians Rainbow Dash had seen. She wore no body armor save a thick jacket and was brandishing a nimble looking rapier. Her eyes scanned the room, settling upon all three ponies before locking onto the female unicorn at the back of the room. “You are contessa. I come to kill you.”

The mare’s unusual accent caught Rainbow off guard, delaying her response just long enough for one of the ponies behind her to reply first. “No–”

“Mmm, no, I think so. Unicorn, mare. Contessa.” She took a step forward, rapier point held low in the three-legged procession of a swordsmare. “The rest I do not need to kill, so you can–”

*fizz-CRACK!*

Rainbow Dash probably should have shot her immediately – even if none present were the countess, Rarity certainly was, and it wasn’t like Rainbow Dash was about to let this mare merrily waltz away to go skewer her best friend (Rarity was her best friend?) – but she apparently lacked something of Rarity’s decisive killer instinct. Rainbow Dash wasn’t as good with the rifle as she was with the fowling piece, but she still managed to put the .36 caliber ball on target.

The big earth pony recoiled back two steps, a neat little hole punched cleanly through her padded jacket directly into her left shoulder. She dropped her sword as she did so, swearing in something Rainbow Dash didn’t understand.

Notably, however, she was very much not dead. Rainbow Dash very swiftly found herself understanding Rarity’s point about appropriate calibers.

After a shorter moment than Rainbow Dash would have liked, the big pony launched herself at the pegasus behind the bed, scooping up her rapier with her right foreleg as she did so. Rainbow Dash had just enough time to pick up the sword she had placed on the bed as she hopped out of the way of the incoming attack. She had felt a stitch in her haunch pull hard as she did so, but she had bigger, sharper, rapier shaped problems to deal with. Her assailant landed with an inelegant clatter, three hooves scraping across the uneven paving stones as she regained her stance, point always held towards Rainbow Dash. The bullet hole had begun bleeding through the jacket and the mare’s left foreleg was wobbly, but she remained standing nonetheless.

Rainbow Dash, mentally prepared just moments ago for shooting a pony, now found herself in her first real sword fight. She had never placed at the bottom of the skill curve of anything in her life, much less something as kick-ass as sword fighting, but she wouldn’t call herself great at it either – worse, she recalled from school that their tips for fighting a saber against a rapier was “don’t” followed by “hope for a painless demise.” Perhaps she would get lucky and the gunshot had evened the odds.

She would find out soon enough. The big mare made a spirited thrust towards Rainbow Dash’s heart, which she managed to catch with the back of her own blade and deflect to the side, drawing the two closer together. The wound seemed to be doing something good for her – as the two closed, Rainbow Dash correctly noted that a skilled swordsmare would have kicked her as they clinched, but the big mare’s foreleg stayed firmly in contact with the floor. Rainbow Dash suffered no such compulsion, and, as the other mare attempted to withdraw her stab, Rainbow Dash hit her with a ferocious foreleg. It didn’t do much, which probably said more about Rainbow Dash than the mare, but it was enough for the big mare to step backwards, yielding position and withdrawing her sword. Wounds thoroughly aching, Rainbow Dash didn’t have enough in her to go in for a big stab, but she did manage to draw a pretty good cut across the mare’s foreleg.

She had drawn blood, but it wasn’t much more than that. Undaunted, the rapier point flew upwards, and Rainbow Dash only barely managed to save her throat from the incoming strike by flinging herself backwards. It wasn’t quite enough to keep her totally from harm – the point managed to catch her cheek, slicing a light cut across her face – but it kept her alive.

For once, it was very apparent to Rainbow Dash that she was not winning, even against her opponent’s weak hoof. Rainbow Dash was obviously the less experienced swordsmare, and she was additionally fighting against a sword with a good quarter-length more length over hers. She was successfully fending off stabs and ripostes, but only barely; she hadn’t been taught much in the way of parries and chambers (stand-up fights were for cuirassiers, not Wonderbolts,) and her opponent was catching on. With every desperate deflection, it was seeming more and more like that first cut was a lucky break.

With ice-water in her veins, she had begun to realize that, unless something changed, she was going to die.

Something did change, in the form of a large water-pail being propelled into her opponent’s face by one of the unicorns behind her. It wasn’t much, but it did make the mare’s sword-point drop in distraction – just enough time for Rainbow Dash to set her hooves back in a fighter’s stance and send her sword at her opponent’s face. This time the cut was deeper, driving hard into her opponent’s scalp in an ugly line above her brow.

Yelling again in that inscrutable tongue, the assailant feinted a stab low, which Rainbow Dash bought completely, then pivoted for a thrust aimed directly at Rainbow Dash’s head. Without a ready sword, Rainbow Dash’s options were limited, but she did have one – her good wing. Wrenching it open as fast as she could, she threw the mostly-inflated wing in front of her. She had aimed well; the rapier’s point embedded itself into the primaries of Rainbow Dash’s good wing, allowing her just enough control to keep her opponent from withdrawing her sword immediately.

Unfortunately for the other mare, “not immediately” was much too late. Rainbow Dash, with her opponent’s sword in her wing, made a textbook attack with her falchion at the exposed hide just above the level of the large mare’s jacket. The sword cut deep, and Rainbow Dash felt it deflect off a vertebrae before continuing on into more flesh. The earth pony fell dead on the spot.

Rainbow Dash stepped back, sword still stuck in where it had been struck. Sweating, panting, and shaking, she wiped what she though was sweat from her face. Her forehoof came off red. Suddenly aware of how much she still hurt, she collapsed onto the nearest piece of furniture, eyes still resting heavily on the dead mare in the room.

“First time for everything, huh Dash?”

Rarity hadn’t really had her ass kicked since her school days, so, were she not presently fighting for her life, this would be quite the nostalgic experience.

The grounded stallion had skillfully taken advantage of his sucker punch by placing himself atop the supine unicorn and punching her several more times. The broken foreleg limited his rapidity and forcefulness of strikes, but it was still a decent pummeling, and one for which Rarity was ill-equipped to fend off insofar as the stallion had positioned himself and his wings in order to block her limbs from striking.

She wasn’t out yet. Her horn lit with blue flame, ready to incinerate the –

“None of that.”

His forehoof smashed into Rarity’s horn with an audible sizzle, cutting off the incoming cantrip before it could be stoked into life. She was very aware of how agonizing that should have been, but with how much the rest of her hurt it barely made an impact. The stallion reeled back, dumbly shaking his singed hoof – just enough time for Rarity to use her horn for the more basal function. Freshly blunted by the hospital staff, it wasn’t exactly optimal for goring, but the headbutt she delivered with every ounce of her strength still managed to open up a gnarly gash in the stallion’s neck and jaw. It wasn’t enough to end the fight, but it was enough to get him off her, allowing her to get to her hooves.

There was one question to ask, which Rarity did with a spit of blood. “I thought your contract–”

“With another master, yes, I would have taken your offer and left. But not with Galloparte, who would have me killed for a failure.” He eyed the discarded sword. “Bad luck for you.”

Rarity’s own eyes lingered on the shotgun she had dropped in the tussle, still loaded with both barrels full of shot, hammers down. Evidently, the stallion did not quite understand what the device was, as he surely would have gone for it if he was aware. It was a good three steps away.

The stallion moved first. Evidently, he had decided to eschew the use of the saber, going straight for Rarity. Rarity made it to the gun, but had no time to cock it before the stallion fell heavily atop her, gash freely bleeding over Rarity’s dirt-darkened coat. The barrels lay between the two ponies. The stallion got a good punch in, then reared back, preparing a hind-leg kick to go to somewhere squishy and unpleasant. That separation gave Rarity just enough room to push the muzzles into the stallion’s barrel just below his sternum and kick the hammers back with a hind leg. She rotated the shotgun enough to reach the other side, and, thankful that her pony-usable firearms were made without trigger guards, launched her hind hoof into the pair of triggers.

The world went red.

Panting on the bedspread, rapier removed from her wing and lying by her, Rainbow Dash heard one, or maybe two, gunshots.

“What is that?” asked the tailor, eyeing the deceased pony in the room heavily.

“A good sign, probably,” Rainbow Dash answered. She turned to address the two unicorns. “Which one of you threw the pail?”

The tailor pointed to the young stallion.

“Thanks.” Rainbow Dash nodded, too tired for exclamations. “She had me.”

“I should have done more, but–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rainbow Dash pointed to the cut on her face. “Can you help with this?”

He nodded, stepping off sharply in search of clean linens. The door shut behind him.

Rainbow Dash, after a moment, heard hoof-steps behind her. The tailor spoke up in a soft voice. “You, ah, have torn a stitch. Would you like me to mend it?”

“Please.” Rainbow Dash rolled a little further over to give easier access. She felt the unicorn’s magic on her hide, gently tugging on a suture, then another, across the wound on her flank. The unicorn’s hooves chattered on the floor.

“You’re safe now. They’re – it’s done.”

“It is not that–” a heavy gulp behind her “–I just have never seen quite anything like that. Heard, but it is another thing to see–”

“Me either” Rainbow Dash answered, which said enough.

The tailor worked in silence after that. A minute or two went by before the door opened back up; the young stallion, clean linens in his field. A dash of the high-proof alcohol near Rarity’s bed, a bit of suture work, and a firmly pressed bandage later, and Rainbow Dash was mostly mended, at least in the immediate.

The door opened again. All three present gasped.

Were it not for the chunks, one would think Rarity had fallen into a vat of red ink, so thoroughly was she coated from face to diaphragm, a long line running down her horn. The slung fowling piece was much the same, though the uhlan’s saber on her waist was conspicuously un-bloodied.

“It’s not mine.” That much was obvious – had it been hers, Rarity would have been a past-tense entity. She noticed the corpse in the room. “Was that–”

“Mine,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “She came in here looking for you. She almost had me, but–”

“Celestia, Ranbow, I–”

“It’s over. It’s what we thought would happen, right?” She darkly noted that she had cut quite a bit more than a throat. “More important things to talk about and think about right now. What happened to you?”

“I, er–” Rarity struggled to put things into order “I shot him, then he fell, then I loaded back up, went down to him, asked some questions, then he jumped me, he beat me repeatedly, and so forth. I eventually fired with the muzzles in his chest, hence–”

“That’s all his?”

“It’s almost all of him.” She shook her head. “May we perchance save this conversation for another time when I am less... bespoiled?"

Rainbow Dash didn’t disagree. Even besides everything else, it was an issue of sanitation.

“Thank you.” Rarity shucked off her cargo. “A wash-pail, please?”

Rarity wrung out her tail. It had taken three changes of water and about all the soap present, but she would finally allow herself to feel clean.

Rainbow Dash entered into the little side room, dipping through the privacy curtain. She had torn a few sutures in the fight, but nothing more serious than that. A wash cloth had sufficed for hygiene. “I had him wipe all the blood off your fowling piece, and the, uh, bodies are covered up in the old moat. Do we need anything else?”

“A hot bath, a feather bed, a chilled bottle of chardonnay, a handsome masseuse, and a sleeping cat to nap with?”

“Best I can do is some soup and a bedroll.” Rainbow Dash allowed herself a small smile. “Glad to see you’re still making jokes.”

“We can’t afford real beds, real doctors, or a real night’s sleep, but I can still afford to make a jest.” Rarity matched the smile. “If I ever stop, we’re in real trouble.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

A few heavy moments passed, noted only by water dripping from Rarity’s tail into a bucket.

“Uh, Rarity, how do you, uh–”

“How do I what?” asked Rarity, who had a pretty good idea what this was about.

“How did you, uh – up there, in that room, that was the first time I’ve ever, y’know–”

“I don’t know.” Rarity cut her off. “I’ve only been in the same boat for two weeks. I’ve really only been in the exact same situation for as long as you have been.”

“Then what are you telling yourself?”

“That he, despite my best efforts, was going to kill me. Easy enough.” Rarity shrugged. “I’m guessing it went the same for you?”

“Me and both of them.” Rainbow Dash nodded. “She thought the tailor was you.”

“Then it was her life versus yours, and the steward’s, and the tailor’s, and then mine, eventually. It’s as clear as mine.” Rarity took a step closer, preempting the next question. “Look, I cannot promise this will suffice as moral justification forever, for everything. But it will get us to tomorrow.”

A pregnant pause lay upon the room. More water drops.

“Okay. I, uh, guess that’s it for now.” Rainbow Dash gestured to the door. “What are we going to do with them?”

Rarity set off towards the door, stopping to beckon for Rainbow Dash to follow. “The right thing to do.”

Both mares exited the room. In the interim, the young stallion had also extricated the falchion from its quarry and cleaned it, placing it back in the scabbard. The uhlan’s saber lay next to it.

“You two.” Rarity hadn’t the time to wait. “Do either of you have any family or acquaintances in the Old Country? Canterlot, Trottingham, or so forth?”

Both shook their heads.

“Of course not, that would be too easy.” Rarity scowled. She raised her voice. “Right. I’ll have to supply some contacts for the two of you.”

Both locals bore of a look of concerned befuddlement. The tailor, for once, spoke up first. “Ah, contacts, contessa?”

“I would hardly want the two of you arriving in a new land without even an address to go to.”

“A new – mistress, you cannot–”

“I am, and I do.” Rarity cut him off. “It is quite clearly not safe for the two of you to remain here. I haven’t the faintest idea if those two had any idea of who the two of you are, but to persist in contact with the two of us would be immensely unwise. I am not just happy to, I am obligated to buy you safe passage out of Bitaly.”

The stallion took a step forward. “And to leave all this? It is not as simple as–”

“It is precisely as simple as that.” Rarity took a step closer. A few good bruises were starting to raise on her face, which must have provided a rather compelling piece of evidence for her own statements. “Prophecies and oaths and solemn duties are for morons who talk to glass trees such as myself. You are under no such obligation. This place is a shithole, and you both deserve better than this.”

“You mean – permanently?”

“I suppose not necessarily. But hopefully so, yes.” Rarity waved a forehoof around. “What are you doing here? Polishing a pile of rocks? This is an absurdity.”

The tailor, for her part, looked much more enthusiastic about the idea. “And, if we were to agree, to where would you send us?”

“Manehattan. I have professional contacts there.” Rarity allowed herself a smile. “Ones who would be delighted to make the acquaintance of such a talented seamstress – nay, designer – with such an uncommon sense of practical fashion terroir.”

The stallion, notably not a talented seamstress, did not share the tailor’s growing look of dreamy optimism. “And me?”

“You’re smart. Good etiquette. Great language skills.” Rainbow Dash could see what Rarity was doing. “Put yourself in the Guard. A unicorn like you should get a cushy admin job, easy.”

“That is–” the stallion thought for a moment “–that is a decent idea, but–”

“No buts.” Rarity shook her head. “I would greatly prefer to be diplomatic, but there are no other realistic options. It’s Manehattan, or it’s very likely death.”

A compelling point indeed.

“Five hundred exactly.”

Rainbow Dash pushed over the sack of bits, freshly counted from the now mostly-empty Royal Purse.

The stallion, with visible reluctance, picked up the money in his field, putting it into a sizable saddlebag. “I am not sure how I could possibly repay you, but thank you.”

“On an admin salary? Pretty easily.” Rainbow Dash noted. “But, gosh, you two are the ones who need to get paid. Clothes, housed us, let us take a bunch of free stuff.”

The tailor shook her head. “It was nothing I needed payment for beyond what you have already done.”

“You’re right. This is a gift to make things right.” Rarity passed the tailor a folded piece of paper. “On there is the addresses of everypony I could think of who would be worth talking to.”

The tailor took the letter. The hoofwriting was rough, but mostly legible. “And your own?”

“On there as well. If I happen to survive this ordeal, write to me at some point and I’ll visit. On the contrary, if I am to perish – which would be mentioned in the papers, of course – please write a nice letter to my sister with something heart-wrenching to be read at my funeral.”

“Oh, yeah, good point.” Rainbow Dash produced a pencil, then grabbed the letter back from the tailor, writing her own mailing address (a Cloudsdale one, Rarity noticed) on the back before passing it back. “Do the same for me.”

The stallion cocked his head. “Assuming a position in the Guard, how would you know where to visit?

“From the return address, duh.” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “But most camps suck, so I’d just send something back.”

“What?”

Rainbow Dash, rather than respond at full volume, leaned in close to his ear, whispering something. The stallion’s face went shock red.

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash snorted a laugh. “It’s as great as it sounds.”

Rarity eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t press the matter. “Well, with that, I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to set off. There are ships waiting back in the harbor.” She nodded to the tailor. “Do grab what materials you can before setting off. Some of those dresses would sell to certain crowds in Manehattan, and there is no reason you could not bring some of the better pieces for portfolio pieces.”

The tailor nodded eagerly, having become rather enamored with the idea. “Is there anything else to know before departing?”

“Only that there’s no contessas over there, and that you have nothing to be scared of.” Rarity smiled warmly. “Now go you two. Best if you get there before dark.”

The tailor took one step back before, with a quick decision, heading back over to Rarity, pulling her into a tight hug. A simple “grazie” expressed all that was necessary. Then the hug was released, and the locals set off for the last time from Mareanello.

After their day, Rarity and Rainbow Dash were more than content to sit on a nearby stone and watch them shrink away into the distance.

Rarity spoke up first. “What did you tell him you would send him?”

Rainbow Dash snorted a laugh. “A signed copy of the Wonderbolt’s ‘Beachside Babes’ calendar, our government’s best publication. He’ll be a hero in his barracks.

“Highly amusing. I presume you’re in it, too?”

“The real Wonderbolts go first. I haven’t been in it yet, but I might next year, if he’s lucky.” Rainbow Dash smirked. “But you saw how he reacted to me getting out of a dress, Rares. Forget me, he’s got twelve months of pegasi to get through. He’s gonna get to the combo shot with Spitfire and Seafire and he is gonna fucking explode.”

“As good a use of my tax bits as any.” Rarity paused for an amusing thought. “Do you think we could get a Bearers calendar?”

“Ugh, Celestia, I hope not.” Rainbow Dash mimed a comical gag. “I mean, that would be double-dipping for me, total party foul. Plus, look at us two. Who wants cheesecake of two soon-to-be scarred up beat to shit mares?”

“There’s a market, hopefully. And we can always do some airbrushing.” Rarity’s eyes had lit up, glad for some levity. “You forget, Rainbow, about the tricks of the trade.”

“Okay, yeah, but you also forgot this – who the hell would want a pin-up of Twilight Sparkle?”

Neither mare could hold it, both breaking into hearty laughter. The laughter would subside after a lengthy period, accumulated stress and panic from the day finally breaking into a wash of relief.

“Okay,” started Rarity, wiping a tear from her eye and rising to her hooves. “It’s time to get to work.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Well, we can’t stay here, that’s for sure. They’ll send somepony out to come check on us when our visitors don’t return, so we need to not be here when they arrive.”

As much as Rainbow Dash didn’t want to admit it, Rarity was right. “Shit. I guess one good night’s sleep was too much, huh?”

“Lucky you. If we're fortunate, I will hit hour forty before I can really sleep. Maybe we can find a roadhouse or inn or other such establishment if we’re lucky. I’ll roll the cart around so we can load it up. Armaments, food, clothing, such things. Can you walk?”

Rainbow Dash looked back at her wounds. They didn’t look any worse, at least. “A little. I'm gonna have to ride some too.”

“Then it will be slow going, but we must be going all the same.” Rarity stepped back towards the exterior door. “Come on.”

Rainbow Dash followed, only for Rarity to pause in front of the door. “Yeah?”

Rarity turned back towards her, remembering something. “There’s a Wonderbolt named Seafire?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Spitfire’s twin. You never noticed the pony who looks just like her with different eyes?”

“Not really.” Rarity held the door open for Rainbow Dash, who hobbled inside. “And her parents named her Seafire?”

“Yeah, right? Talk about ‘little sister syndrome.’ I’d say it’s gotta be brutal for her self-esteem, but she’s honestly probably better off than her sister. Really invested in marine tactics. Did you know she invented the method for flying from a steamship?”

Rarity, for once, was delighted to hear Rainbow Dash’s happy babbling about pegasus athletes. After everything, that still remained, and if that remained, Rainbow Dash remained. “There’s a method for that?”

“Oh, yeah, cause you gotta take into consideration the wind and the soot and such. And there’s actually a third sister too, named Firefly, who’s kinda chubby compared to her sisters and not such a great flier but she’s a straight-up genius when it comes to siege and anti-dragon tactics, she’s got like fourteen campaign ribbons, it’s crazy. And that’s not even to mention her parents, who are themselves…”

Well, it did make for good background noise, at least.

Author's Note

This one's for you, Clint.

This chapter was really cool because it, in a rare change of pace, didn't suck ass