The High-HorsesView OnlineDomesticityThe High-HorsesAuthor's Note I tried to make it so that this can stand on its own, but without context some of its meaning will be lost. It is part of a larger narrative, so reading the prequels is highly recommended to avoid getting lost. Regarding its place in said narrative, while this is chronologically the sequel to Who Guards the Guards?, narratively it is the sequel to Where Shining Fall the Years, giving a perspective on what's happening in Crystal City to complement the perspectives in Castellot, Everfree, and Cloudsdale. The High-Horses The dishes clinked gently down on the table. Bread, olives, fruit, dips, a pitcher of sister's tea; it was Celestia's night to cook, and she never did anything half-heartedly. There was a brief pause as their personal plates were put down, and then her sister turned to look out the western window, out at the light of the dying Sun. After a moment's silence, she said, "We look to Rialta that was, to Albion that is, and to Coroin that is to come." Picking up her's and Luna's plates, she said, "May what we eat from these sustain us in body and soul," then picked up their glasses and said, "May what we drink from these renew us in body and soul." "Marsine," Luna murmured, bowing her head. They both sat down, the meal's prayers over, and began to fill their plates and glasses. She grabbed a good-sized chunk of her sister's fresh bread while Celestia poured herself tea, then switched positions once her sister's cup was full. While her sister plucked up olives, though, Luna moved on to the dips, giving a torn scrap of bread a generous coating of crushed tomatoes and garlic. They ate in silence for a while, Luna's brow furrowed in thought at her sister's weary but otherwise unreadable face. Eventually, she could take the tension no longer and asked, "Is something the matter, sister?" Celestia took her time to reply, as she always did. "Starlight Glimmer is almost to the capitol," she answered. "and she doesn't come alone. Two hundred was the last count of her followers, and we don't know how many will join her once she arrives." She bit her finger. "Maybe I should reach out to Shining, not just Signal. A handful of retired Guards are not nothing, but against two hundred or more..." "The school will be safe," Luna reassured her. "Shining will not allow anyone in his city to suffer harm, and if he lacks the numbers to reinforce us, there are still our friends on...the other side." Celestia furrowed her brow, doubtless thinking of the same thing she was; a small, parchment journal on her desk, one Sunset had entrusted to her while she was stuck in the capitol. She didn't doubt that Celestia had been making use of it, either to discuss the situation or her dreams with Princess Twilight, and though they'd agreed to close the portal out of caution, Twilight had made it abundantly clear that they had but to ask for her help and she would throw it open and come through with the might of Equestria behind her. Of course, her sister insisted that that was only to be a last resort, but Luna knew that any threat to her students would constitute a last resort. Her sister did nothing half-heartedly, especially not loving and caring; she could wait and watch if you worked against her, but if you threatened, credibly threatened, her students, her children, she would swoop down on you like an avenging angel. "We shall have to hope it doesn't come to that," she murmured back after a few moments, then returned to her dinner. Luna did the same, and they finished in silence. Not a comfortable silence, the threat and fear of Starlight Glimmer's approach was too close to them for comfort, but not an uncomfortable silence either; it was a silence, asking to be filled but willing to wait until she or her sister chose to fill it. Her sister chose to as they began cleaning up, asking, "Do you think it might be wise for us to flee, to head west until the situation gets under control?" Luna almost dropped the dish she was washing. "I've never known you to run from someone in need, sister," she replied after the shock wore off. "Nor have I known you to propose something so ill-thought out. If we flee from Starlight, sister, then who will get her under control? How can we ask others to fight her when we aren't willing to do so ourselves? No, she will find us, or at least me, here whether she finds or fails to find approval in Castellot." She frowned. "Why do you ask? Have you--have you had a vision of something happening to us?" "No," Celestia sighed. "I haven't seen anything about us. I'm just...afraid. I'm afraid, Luna, like I haven't been since-since Nightmare Moon." Though she winced at the reminder of her 'incident,' Luna refused to let it stop her, saying, "And you didn't run away then, just like I know you won't now. Running away won't solve anything, sister; it will only allow Starlight to grow stronger. The only way to resolve this is through confrontation, either now or later, just like with Nightmare Moon. And just like with her," Luna smiled at her sister. "I know you'll do the right thing with Starlight." "But is confronting her now the right thing?" her sister asked. "If we oppose her so directly and she wins approval, or worse, power, what will her supporters do to us? Elite opponents of the revolution, ones associated with one of the most frequently suspected magic-affected areas in the kingdom; what cause will they have not to hate and try to remove us? If we were to work against her more indirectly, we might be able to wait for the honeymoon to wane and strike against her more effectively then." "Only after allowing her to inflict herself upon the kingdom," Luna argued. "We need to stop her before then, before anyone has to suffer her misrule. If we try, fail, and suffer for that, then so be it; better that than not try, fail, and let others suffer in our place." Her face softened. "It's not like you to try to put others in harm's way so we can escape it, Tia," she murmured. "Why are you trying to do so now?" Her sister's hands fell, coming to rest upon her breast. "You're right," she murmured sadly. "It's not like me. I'm sorry, Lulu; I'm...I'm just scared. Scared for us. For you. I-I'm sorry." Then, before she could reply, Celestia walked away at a fast clip, what seemed to be tears in her eyes. She frowned; something was wrong with her sister, something worse than mere fear. It was almost like she felt...guilty, or ashamed. But of what? Fear was nothing to be ashamed of, only wrongful responses to fear like Nightmare Moon were, and Celestia's fearful proposals just now hadn't been responses, only thoughts, ideas, musings. Like her sister had taught her (hard) after Nightmare Moon, you weren't culpable for your thoughts or emotions, only your choices, and unless Celestia had secretly made travel plans to escape Luna was reasonably sure she hadn't made any choices to be ashamed of here. But then what was wrong with her sister? What was bothering her? What darkness was her weariness hiding? Idly, she patted her breast pocket; she would try to find out, tonight. For now, she had cleanup to do. When she was younger, there had been a constant feature in her dreams; a large, silver key, one that could fill the role of any tool. It became a torch in caves, a plate in bakeries, a sword on the battlefield, but its main use was in its base form, as a key, one that could unlock the doors between dreams. She couldn't remember when she'd discovered that, but she made use of her discovery, sharing many nights' worth of dreams with her sister. That had stopped after she told her parents and they called the doctor. She told Luna that dreams weren't real, they were just stories the brain told itself while she was asleep, ways for it to try to understand things it hadn't while she was awake. Luna might have thought that she was sharing dreams with her sister, but it was just that, a thought, like all dreams were; a fictional, personal, isolated thought. She'd accepted the doctor's explanation and the key disappeared, though the lucidity of her dreams didn't; that was one contributing factor to the Nightmare Moon incident, her inability to find respite from her anger in sleep. But then, a few months ago, after Sunset and her friends found their necklaces, her key had reappeared, burning silver-bright and searing away the nightmare afflicting her. It rejoined her and behaved as it had before, though its effectiveness was enhanced by her greater understanding of dreams. The doctor was right, dreams were just stories the mind told, but sometimes stories were true and meaningful. And sometimes, she thought as she sailed the dreamscape in search of her sister's dream-door, stories have more than one listener. Rank upon rank of doors passed as the city slumbered, the dark mist of a nightmare occasionally leaking out of one. A quick wave of her key fixed that, a new ability she'd only learned of recently; though her key may have shrunk in relative size over the years, its abilities seemed to have done the inverse. She wondered what other secrets its smooth, shining silver form hid. She shook her head, then continued her search; it was not her key's secrets but her sister's she hoped to learn tonight. Another patrol failed to show her her sister's door, and she grit her teeth in frustration; where was she? Where was her sister hiding? And why? She wouldn't be able to see anything Celestia didn't want her to, dreams served the dreamer, not interlopers like her; if Celestia wanted to keep something hidden, nothing Luna could do would make the dream give it up. Actually, she frowned, she wasn't sure her sister knew that. She wasn't sure her sister even knew she'd found her key again; she hadn't been hiding it, there'd just been so much going on she hadn't gotten around to telling her about it. But then where was she? Why wasn't she in the dream-world? Her eyes widened in realization; the same reason she'd tried to avoid it back during Nightmare Moon. Facing something in the waking world was one thing, facing it in the dream-world another, and whatever was bothering her sister must have scared her enough to drive her away from sleep, from facing whatever it was in her nightmares. She bolted awake and crept to her feet, quietly opening the door to her room and peeking down the hall at Celestia's; as expected, the door was open, and her sister lay nowhere in sight. She snuck through the house, trying to find her sister, bracing herself to ask what was keeping her awake at--she turned to look at a clock on the wall--midnight. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, nor her study or the reading room. She wasn't in either of the bathrooms, the attic, not even the basement provided any clues as to her location. Eventually, Luna managed to find her, kneeling in front of the reflecting pool out back. Frowning, Luna pursued her, following her out with as much stealth as she could muster. Fortunately, judging by the lack of attention Celestia seemed to give her, she succeeded, and managed to get within a stone's throw of her sister before pausing. Though clearly prepared for sleep in one of her nightgowns and with her hair down, the tired slump of her shoulders indicated how little she'd actually used those preparations. Her lips constantly quivered, as did her silvery hands, tightly gripping her main set of prayer beads, a series of crude wooden spheres run over a rough cord. Her eyes were closed, and heavily, as if she knew something was in front of her, something horrible, and if she merely pretended it wasn't there it wouldn't hurt her, like the monsters under the bed or Luna's personal difficulties. "Make me a channel of your peace," she whispered, almost frantically. "Where there is hatred, let me bring your love; where there is injury, your pardon, Lord; and where there's doubt, true faith in...in..." Then, to Luna's shock, she almost threw herself on the ground, faintly whimpering. "I can't do this," she cried. "It's too much for me. Please, Shepherd, take this cup away, let it pass. Please, take this cup away. Please." But then she paused. Eventually, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "No, it isn't like me to try to put others in harm's way so that I can escape. No, I will not-I will not let them suffer due to my fear. Shepherd, please, take this cup away, unless it must be drunk; then..." Her face fell, though her voice stayed determined. "...then, let it pass to me. Marsine." Luna watched in awe as her sister picked up her prayers again, almost glowing now in the light of the Moon. She'd been a witness to something profound, something she didn't understand. What cup was her sister talking about? Why had she been so sad, so scared, so overwhelmed by the thought of it? What darkness forced her to find the light Luna thought she saw? She didn't know, and the thought of interrupting her almost beatifically-faced sister to ask felt wrong now. Instead, she quietly retreated back inside and returned to her bed; she would ask her sister tomorrow. The image of the anguish on her face during her prayers flashed across her mind as she prepared to fall asleep. Opening her eyes and sitting upright, she looked out her window at the Moon, full and bright. And she looked at the realm of the Unseen behind it, that which mortal eye couldn't perceive, and at the harmony between the two that was to come. "Please," she prayed to the masters of those things, of the Seen, Unseen, and the Harmony to come. "Keep my sister safe. Let the cup pass from her, whatever that may mean. Keep her safe. Marsine." Then, signing herself with the star, she passed back into the dreamscape.
The Middle ClassView OnlineDomesticityThe Middle Class"292 bits from inventory to sales," Rarity muttered to herself as she tapped away at the computer. "Cost of goods sold was 161. All of which leaves us with a grand total of... 25,000 for the day, not bad." She recorded the numbers in the ledger, then leaned back, took off her glasses, and sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Though there had been a bit of friction between them at first, she was finding herself immensely grateful for Sassy's hiring as the weeks went on; the girl's designs were rough and she could be a bit overbearing when placed in a position of authority, but her business acumen was impressive, and her contacts were lifesaving. She'd been able to cut the cost for them to make some of their products by a fifth, or even more, thanks to her friends in the fabric industry. Add in the fact that, when she wasn't letting power go to her head, she was a genuinely pleasant person to be around (if a bit catty), and Rarity quickly found herself agreeing with Miss Hemline's decision to hire her. "Rarity?" the girl in question said, popping into the back room. "It's 6:00, time to lock up." "Thank you, Sassy," she smiled back, getting up from her seat. "And thank you once again for the accounting lessons, they've shown their quality many times over." "My pleasure," Sassy replied with a grin. "It's been nice having someone else to talk shop with like this. Everyone wants to talk about the fancy dresses and suits they want to sell, never how they're going to pay for the materials to make them." "Well," she replied, thoughts turning to the brutal years spent under the unreformed Sunset's heel. "while I may not have appreciated it at the time, some of my earlier high school experiences taught me the value of being able to support a program, not just put on a show. Both the facade and the structure that supports it are vital." Sassy nodded as they signed out, waving goodbye to Miss Hemline as they left, before scowling and grumbling, "Of course, some people think that just because they don't like the facade they can tear down the structure behind it." Rarity snorted at the reminder of one of the most common topics of workplace discussion, Starlight Glimmer and her unhinged Unmarked movement. They claimed to be fighting against the elites on behalf of those said elite were oppressing, but her tactics, those few that seemed to be more than empty wishes, advocated simply shifting the burden of oppression from the lower classes to the elite and, especially, the middle class. Too well-off to be counted among her lower class supporters and without the resources the upper classes had to mitigate the impact Starlight's "policies" (if they could even be called such), the middle class, the aspiration of her and her colleagues and the reality of their employer, would be caught in a deadly crossfire, one that several of her coworkers feared might prove fatal to their dreams. An education at Tabitha Germane, a grand tour of the kingdom, a summer house in the North to escape the heat, all might disappear in a flash of Starlight. A future for her sister, free of the ceaseless toil Rarity put herself through, might disappear... "Is there anything you need me to do?" she asked Sassy as they emerged in the parking lot. "Even if it's as simple as handing out pamphlets or sending emails, I'm willing to help." "No, thank you," Sassy smiled in reply. "That might change soon, though; Starlight's due to reach the capitol in the next few days, and some of us are planning to meet her, let her know that her ideas don't just have enemies among the elite." "Just let me know when," Rarity nodded. The "us" Sassy had mentioned was a collection of likeminded individuals, ones who realized the disaster Starlight's populism would bring about. She herself wasn't one of them, but she liked to think that she had a good relationship with several of them, especially Sassy and that Trender fellow from Crystal Prep. Sassy thanked her and waved goodbye as they reached their autos, then went their separate ways for the night. Sassy lived in the downtown area, in an apartment that would look up to a broom closet, while she and Sweetie shared a roomier loft apartment near the city center. Squeezing more savings out of your expenses was fine, but appearances still had to be kept up, though on that point she and Sassy could debate seemingly endlessly. She snorted at the thought of Sassy coming into work one day wearing sackcloth, saying that it was cheaper than buying regular clothes, though she doubted even her efficiency- and economy-obsessed friend would be willing to go that far. She pulled up to her complex, plugged her auto in for the night, then entered the elevator. A few moments more and she arrived at the eleventh floor, and found her apartment door waiting to greet her. Sighing in relief at the sight of her home, she walked over, slid in her key, and- -found a brightly-smiling Sweetie Belle on the other side, standing right in the middle of the entryway. Rarity's shoulders slumped. "Fire, water, or my materials?" she wearily asked; the only times Sweetie Belle acted like this were when she'd made a mistake and was trying to avoid her sister's wrath. Sweetie Belle pouted at her question, and indignantly replied, "Can't I just be happy to see my big sis? Why does me being happy to see you have to be so superstitious?" "Suspicious, darling," she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And it's not you being happy to see me that's suspicious, it's how hard you're trying to seem happy, combined with your barring of the way in." "I'm not!" she squeaked defensively, immediately stretching out her arms as if to belie her words. "I really am happy to see you, and not just because another round of nasty letters came by and I was scared I wouldn't see you again!" Gasping, she covered her mouth, too late. Rarity slumped in sadness. "Another round, eh?" she wanly smiled. "And you were trying to protect me from them, weren't you. The gesture is appreciated, Sweetie, and I apologize for my earlier suspicions. Sadly," she sighed, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "you cannot protect me from the world, sweetness. Your valour is appreciated, but futile. Where did you put them, please?" Sweetie Belle pouted as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "On the table," she grunted. Rarity nodded in thanks, then walked over to look at the latest correspondence from her 'admirers,' those in the area who knew her, or at least her reputation, and were enthralled by Starlight Glimmer's populist folly. There were three this time, all doubtlessly anonymous, none of the 'bold revolutionaries' who opposed her possessing the bravery to stand up to her without either overwhelming numbers or the shield of secrecy. She shuddered at the thought of Starlight's arrival emboldening them, giving them the courage to attack her openly, breaking down her apartment door while poor Sweetie could only watch and scream... "It's not fair," the girl in question pouted. "You protect me all the time, you protect all of us a lot, but I can't protect you at all, not even when you need it the most. I'm useless." "Far from it, sweetness," Rarity replied as she opened the first missive. "Even if you are not able to fight directly, something I doubt highly, you do so indirectly by giving my friends and I something crucial; something to fight for." "I wish I could help more, though," Sweetie Belle said. "It's not fair for you to have to save us all the time." "Like mother's so fond of saying," Rarity answered as she began glancing over the letter, a generic threat against the 'oppressive cultural elite' Starlight's supporters seemed to view her as. "'The world's not fair. It's not about getting what we deserve-'" "'-it's about making do with what we get,'" she sighed. "I know, I know. It still feels wrong, though." "You'll find no objection from me, darling," Rarity nodded as she opened the second message. Another fairly standard threat, though the crude drawing of her being burned at the stake was an interesting touch, unrealistic though it may have been; the historical method of executing magical prisoners was by beheading, with the instrument of execution for some reason being specified as a sword made of iron. Why steel or bronze wouldn't suffice, her research had been unable to say. The third letter, though, was far worse, a threat that made her quake in simultaneous rage and fear: Hello, pony girl; enjoying using your magic to look at your big, empty head? Those diamonds must be great mirrors, though I'm not sure what other uses they have. How poetic; your magic's all about looking good while being useless, just like you are. Of course, you're not going even going to be good at that by the time Starlight's through with you. I bet you're going to be glad when she forces you to give up your magic; you won't be able to stand looking at yourself in a mirror. But don't worry; when you're gone, I'll take good care of your sister for you. For as long as you're away, I'll care for her like she's mine, though it won't be easy; reports of you or your friends doing stupid things, like fighting Starlight, might distract me, or even make me forget that I'm supposed to take care of her. We don't want that, do we? No, we want the best for her, the best life she can live. When Starlight comes to power and takes you away, I'll make sure to give her that, provided you don't make me forget. I might even be able to teach her how to be a real businesswoman, wouldn't that be something? I could teach her how to use that beautiful voice of her's to get anything she wants. That voice of her's really is something, isn't it? It's so beautiful, soothing, enchanting; I could wax lyrical about it all day! There's just one problem; I have some concerns that it might not be...well, all natural. I mean, how can a voice that says some of the things her's does really be natural? Now, her voice might just be a bit strange...just like you and your friends seem. If it keeps sounding strange, saying things like you're innocent or Starlight's wrong, and Starlight hears about how enchanting it is, well, what conclusion can she draw? If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, as the saying goes. Don't worry, though; when I take care of her, I'll try to help straighten out her voice. We don't want her to join you, after all, do we? "Sweetie Belle," she said, her voice quivering iron. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to send you to stay with mother and father for a while. Something's come up." "Uh-uh!" she squeaked in argument. "I know where this is going, and I'm not letting it! Someone wrote something really mean in that letter," she pointed accusingly at the paper in Rarity's vice grip. "and now you're trying to send me away 'for my own safety' while you stay here, despine the fact that you're at just as much risk as I am! If I have to go away for my own safety," she crossed her arms defiantly. "then so do you!" "You will not be staying here," Rarity firmly replied. "I will not have your death on my conscience." "And I won't have your's on mine!" her sister retorted. "It won't be," she reassured her. "If any blood is shed, it will stain my hands, not your's." "I don't care if I have to finger-paint with that blood," Sweetie Belle snapped. "I'm not leaving you to die!" Wincing at the reminder of her sister's challenges with metaphor, Rarity gently replied, "I'm not asking you to leave me to die, sweetness." Gently stretching out her hand to cup her sister's face, she said, "I'm asking you to leave me so that you can live." "But I want you to live, too," her sister protested, trying to lean away from her hand. "I want myself to live too, darling," she replied. "Yet I must risk that loss to avoid risking a much greater one, of losing you. I cannot let Starlight Glimmer or her minions daunt me, anymore than Princess Twilight could let Sunset Shimmer daunt her. Whatever losses my defiance might incur are nothing to the losses letting them have their way would. Someone must bid them defiance, Sweetie Belle, and you know what father always says; 'When you hear the words "someone must-"'" "'-replace them,'" she sniffled. "'with "I must."'" Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she looked up at her sister, fire in her eyes. "Then I won't let you stand alone! You say 'someone has to bid them defense?' I say, 'I have to bid them defense!'" "And risk burdening me with what I first set out to avoid?" Rarity quietly asked. Sweetie Belle flinched. "I know it's not easy, sweetness," Rarity whispered, gently brushing her hair. "I know how much you want to protect me, how much you want to show your sister that you love her. But this is not your fight, and I would rather hear you curse my name than let you risk shedding even a drop of blood needlessly. I love you, Sweetie Belle, and I know that you love me, knowledge that warms my heart and soul. Please," she put her forehead to her sister's. "show me that love by listening to me, by protecting me from the loss of you. I know you're willing to die for me, and I'm touched by that, but I have another request for you; can you live for me? Will you be willing to survive, whatever happens to me, to let my sacrifice mean something? Please, sweetness," she kissed that sweet head. "Will you live for me as willingly as die?" Sweetie Belle blubbered in the affirmative, wrapping her arms around her sister and sobbing. Rarity returned the embrace, as well as the tears. No greater love might there be, she thought as she gently rocked her sister, than to lay down one's life for a friend, but barely less is the love you're showing me, sweetness. I might be willing to lay down my life for you, but your willingness to let me go and lay that life down is little less impressive. "I love you, Sweetie Belle," she whispered through her tears. And her heart picked up her sister's reply, in her tears, blubbering words, and actions; "I love you more." Fresh tears sprang up as she remembered this old game of their's, one they hadn't played in far too long. She didn't know when they'd get to play it again; Starlight's arrival might herald the revolution she said it did, or the Unmarked might peter out, along with the courage of those who'd written her such lovely notes as the one driving her to send her sister away. She and Sweetie Belle might soon look back on this from around the table and laugh, or from whatever prison Starlight concocted for 'the elite' and weep. She might emerge none the worse for wear, or she might die. But none of that changed her answer, the answer that won her the game; "Love you most."
The UnmarkedView OnlineDomesticityThe UnmarkedHis lamp shone out into the darkness surrounding the inn and the camp that surrounded it in turn, a warren of tents and spent fires where the majority of the Unmarked slept. He smiled gently as he recalled his ignorance earlier, when he'd proposed they push on until they managed to find somewhere with enough rooms for all of them. It was unequal for only some to be allowed to sleep on soft beds, after all. Starlight had quickly shown him the error of his ways, pointing out that viewing soft beds as superior to sleeping bags was the real inequality, and he'd recanted. In a bid at humor, he'd even offered to demonstrate what Starlight had said to the other Unmarked, sleeping out in the camp while she used one of the rooms they'd managed to secure. She'd accepted, and he'd followed through, even though it had been a joke. Humor was serious, after all. Of course, actually sleeping could wait for a while; it was his turn for watch, something that would doubtlessly confuse the elites they would confront soon. He was Starlight Glimmer's right hand, why should he sleep in a rough sleeping bag and have to take watch? That was a job for the collared, the poor, the commoners. And they were right, it was a job for the commoners, which all people truly were. All divisions of class, whether they be on social, economic, political, or ethnic lines, were simply illusions, attempts by the elite to fence the collared in, to scatter them and pen them so that they could be made useful. All people were commoners because all people shared one class in common, one class without demerit or credit, a class without mark, the class that gave their brave band its name. Besides, he thought as he nodded to Minty, settling down to sleep, he liked taking watch, working for the others. Whether that meant standing guard through the night, sewing up a torn sleeping bag, or comforting poor Party Favor after his ingrained hierarchicality reared its head, he enjoyed helping others, though he was careful to avoid favoring any one of them too much; to love one too much was to hate the others, as Starlight would say. Ah, how sad young him had been to realize what that truly meant. The boy from Snowdrift had spent years chasing the candle, dreaming of it, until its flame showed him how disordered his affections had been; hierarchicality had been the drive behind his desire for Starlight, trying to tempt him to take her for his own and deny her to the rest of the world. That realization had almost broken him, but another one repaired him; he realized he hadn't just followed Starlight because of his desire for her, but because of the light she showed, the truth she revealed. Hierarchicality had made a deadly mistake; in driving him to pursue her, it had driven him into the light that allowed him to see its evil, to see that what he truly desired was not her but its destruction. He'd been brought back to life by equalism, and from that day on had done his best to pay back that debt. He'd given himself entirely to equalism, holding nothing back, and delightfully found himself with more than he'd given away in the first place. He'd emptied himself for equalism, and equalism had filled him back up until he overflowed. He was always at peace, because what was war but peace by other methods? He was always free, because what was slavery but the freedom to choose the choices another did? He was always wise, because what was ignorance but wisdom of what isn't? All opposition is merely superficial; lies are simply truths about things that aren't real, hate is love of what someone or something isn't, and inferiority is superiority when looked at in reverse. In the light of equalism, the truth became clear; all were equal. He sucked in a breath; thinking about the grandness of equalism sent chills down his spine, chills that were equal to the warmth he felt in his stomach whenever he helped another. What was cold but a low heat, after all, or what was heat but a low cold? Nothing. Fire was ice, ignorance was wisdom, slavery was freedom, war was peace. He sighed in awe; equalism was wonderful. He couldn't wait to show the elite its light, to destroy the hierarchicality that oppressed so many Homestrians. Some of those with him didn't, he knew, though he didn't hold it against them; it was difficult for a hierarchically-trained brain to think equalistically, and his love for the elite required a firm grasp of equalist thought in order to understand. Some thought they didn't love the elite for economic reasons, or social ones, or for their failure to properly restrain magic, the apex of hierarchicality. Double Diamond knew better, though; he hated the elite, just as the others did. And hate was love, so that meant he loved them, just as he loved the Unmarked. His march on the capitol was a labor of love, not, like the elite tried to make it out to be, of hate. He thought (not dreamt; dreaming was a hierarchical attempt to impose inequality even on thoughts, a devious plan) of what might happen once the light of equalism was unveiled. He and Starlight had discussed it somewhat, though she was more equal in her judgements of whether or not their mission would resolve equitably (not succeed; success was an attempt to impose inequality on outcomes of events). She said he put too much faith in the elite's ability to see the truth, which was probably true: she had a more equal sense of things like that than he did, refusing to treat the ability of hierarchicality to maintain its grip on people's minds as lightly (and thus unequally) as he did. But those who managed to shake off the shackles of hierarchicality would be welcomed as equals, and any unequal possessions of their's put to use ensuring equal property for the others. After, of course, being put to use spreading equalism; the revolution was not free, after all, and saying that one would rather enhance the living standards of those already practicing equalism than help others begin to practice it was hierarchicality, an attempt to introduce an inequality between equalists and non-equalists. Starlight had theorized otherwise before, but eventually she declared that expansion was more equalist than stagnation was, and records of those other theories were destroyed to preserve unity. They wouldn't need those possessions, though; Double Diamond could carry all of his possessions on his back, and he was the most content Man in the world, just like all the Unmarked. Of course, even optimistic him knew that some wouldn't be willing to part with their possessions so easily, or accept freedom after spending so long enslaved. They would need to be reeducated and reconditioned, and if that failed, if they stayed hierarchical and a threat to the people, the Security Council would need to step in. That was another reason he made his rounds on watch, stayed among the others; if he was their equal, they didn't watch their speech as carefully around him. Party Favor might lock up about his recurring bouts of hierarchicality to Starlight, but he would confess it to Double Diamond in a heartbeat, just as all those he knew would. It was easier for people to communicate without the artificial barriers of hierarchicality, Starlight had taught them that, and by working alongside the rest of the Unmarked Double Diamond made sure that those barriers stayed gone. If he learned that they were trying to keep those barriers up, though, if they were trying to maintain or institute inequality, he would oblige them, and they would find themselves faced not with Double Diamond the equal but Double Diamond, Director of Security. None of the Unmarked, no matter how deeply hierarchicality might be ingrained in them, wished to face that. Some nights, Party Favor confessed, he had nightmares about what would happen if he faced that. And well he might have; Starlight had given him authority to take whatever measures he thought necessary as security director, authority that he'd used sparingly over the years. He hadn't needed to use it much; after a night without food or water, even the highest of horses felt equal to others. He'd had to exercise it more thoroughly on their newest guest, though; a magic-user deeply rooted in hierarchicality, she seemed determined to defy the truth no matter what it cost her. He nodded to the Unmarked guarding her, Caramel, then stepped into the tent holding her. The flap was harder to move than the others, and with good reason; sound-absorbing fabric was quite heavy, and expensive: it had taken the proceeds from selling most of their guest's possessions in order to purchase the tent, though it had proven wise. The sounds might disturb the others. "Hello," he greeted their guest again. "Have you thought about our offer?" "I," her cracked, almost broken voice replied. "refuse." His face hardened, though she couldn't see it under her hood. She was still obstinate, then. Hopefully, the gift he was about to give her would help remedy that. Putting his lamp down, he walked back out of the tent before returning, bearing a crude tea kettle, still whistling from the fire. He walked over to the guest, staying stoically still, and lifted up the back of the clothes they'd loaned her. Her breath hitched, and he paused; would this be the night she agreed to help them? Would she finally choose to be equal? Sadly, no; instead, she snapped, "Get on with it. You're wasting time you could be spending mooning over your cult leader." A scowl darkened his face. He opened the kettle and poured. Being the Director of Security means that Double Diamond is privileged to know more of equalism, in order that his knowledge might be equal to his task. And one of the secrets entrusted to him is the Secret of False Opposition, the revelation that all seeming opposites are actually the same, simply reached by a different method. Thus, war is peace. Lies are truth. Slavery is freedom. Hate is love. Ignorance is wisdom. And, crucially for his line of work, wrong is right and injustice is justice. Thus, when asked what he did inside that soundproof tent, he can truthfully answer that he loved their guest, and inflicted healing on her using right, just methods. She was so happy, he could say, she said she felt like she was in Paradise. And it would be true. As true as equalism.