The Sisterhood Absolution - The Vindication of Revenge: Judgment [Ascension]
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The Bubblegum Incident: Revelations - The Reckoning (Redemption)
The Sisterhood Absolution - The Vindication of Revenge: Judgment [Ascension]
The sun was just sinking over the western peaks of Canterlot Mountain as the bejeweled stagecoach arrived at the gated heart of the city's royal district. The eight well-armored stallions drawing the vehicle coasted to a stop, and equally girded sentries emerged from a fortified station to check on the procession's arrival.
From a cold, windy distance, the members of the Canterlot Royal Guard could be seen exchanging swift words and even swifter glances far below. Eventually, those on guard bowed low to the stagecoach proper before signaling the entrance's station.
With the slight tingle of unicorn magic, the heavy gates to the royal district lifted majestically. The way was made clear for the stagecoach to enter the most heavily-protected district of the Equestrian Diarchy. With thunderous hooves, the stallions conveyed the vehicle deeply inward, flanked by a tight patrol of pegasus guards armed with spears and lances. The gate closed heavily behind them as the procession made its way to the pristine palace lingering just up the final hill ahead.
At last, the sun dipped completely below the granite summits to the west. As it did so, the solar glare gave way to opaque shadows upon the falling shroud of night. It was in this darkened haze that a pale figure manifested, perched tightly atop the blue-tinged parapets overshadowing the royal district. From up high, the equine shape loomed, wearing an ivory set of robes with a sharply-crested hood obscuring their features. They emotionlessly peered down, their head trained specifically on the stagecoach as it rolled up the final ascent and towards the lavish front gates of the Canterlot Palace. Then—on lithe limbs—the hooded figure galloped soundlessly across the rooftops of the walled castle exterior, keeping parallel to the distant stagecoach, eyeing its every movement from up high.
When the stagecoach rustled to a stop, so did the figure. The robed pony crouched low behind a billowing flag erected on a silver pole. There was a flicker of blue light, and an elongated spyglass levitated out of the pony's eggshell cloak. The telescopic lens rotated and focused on the distant stagecoach...
...just as a majestic figure gracefully emerged. Princess Celestia exited the stagecoach, approaching the velvet-carpeted front steps of her royal palace. A line of butlers and maids in waiting bowed low as she arrived, closely escorted by heavily-armored guards. The spyglass' lens rotated, and the viewfinder zeroed in on the fabulous silk saddle that Princess Celestia was wearing, lined with rubies and frilled with sapphire-embedded tassels. The monarch of Equestria smiled at her servants. Her muzzle opened, and it was clear from afar that she was addressing the company as a whole.
Far away, the hooded figure swiftly drew their spyglass away. In its place, they levitated a cone-like funnel. The pony's head tilted forty-five degrees to the side, and the small end of the cone was pressed to their ear while the larger portion was aimed directly towards the scene unfolding across the royal courtyard. Soon, Princess Celestia's voice came clearly into focus for the infiltrator:
“...from Ponyville just this afternoon. All in all, I would say that the Friendship Pageant was an absolute success. Princess Twilight won the hearts of many foreign delegates, and I've already arranged for the visits of three separate ambassadors by the end of the month.”
The lead butler stood up from bowing low. “Shall we prepare the royal guest quarters for their arrival, Your Majesty?” he could be heard saying.
“Yes. My traveling clerk will give you the necessary instructions for preparation. But—for the time being—I would love absolutely nothing better than to retire to my quarters this evening. Please have a warm bath prepared.”
“Right away, your majesty~”
“And—while you're at it—summon the chief laundress. Tell her that her expertise is required tonight.”
“To take care of that wonderful saddle dress, Your Majesty?” chimed a smiling maid. “If I may be so bold: it is most exquisite.”
“It is indeed.” Celestia smiled back, trotting casually up the carpeted steps that led into the castle proper. “A most blessed gift from Princess Twilight's inner circle. I shan't allow it to be damaged in even the slightest, or else I might damaged my relationship with my former pupil forever...”
As the Princess trotted inward with her guard and servants, the sound of their conversation dwindled completely. Across the way, the figure mechanically collapsed their listening device. With a deep breath, the infiltrator coiled their limbs beneath their robes... then leapt wildly off the castle fortifications entirely.
The timing couldn't possibly be any more perfect. Right as they made their leap, the guards of Canterlot switched on mirrored search lights and ignited magic torches. A dozen different beams of illumination highlighted the parapets where the infiltrator had just been seconds prior. What's more, the ensuing glare of the regularly scheduled lights forced the eyes of those in patrol to visually adjust for the duration of half-a-minute. Thus, everypony was briefly blind to the pale shadow as they made agile hops, leaps, and jumps down every-other descending ledge and window frame of the fortification's inner walls.
Then—with a barely audible plop(!)—the figure finally landed on the soft grass of the courtyard below. With scant time for a breath, they snuck forward, dashing between fountains, sidling along well-trimmed hedges, and finally flattening themselves invisibly against a row of benches flanking a flower garden. From down below, the figure could look up and see three full floors of stained-glass windows looming impregnably against a darkening sky.
The infiltrator reached deep within their cloak. When their hoof reemerged, it was grasping an elaborate hookshot mechanism jury-rigged together from disassembled sewing machine parts. Gently grasping the handle of the apparatus, the hooded figure aimed at the third floor of the castle, twisted a knob, and—
Thwiffft!
—launched a throng of sewing needle barbs fastened to a triply-reinforced bundle of silver thread. The “hook” flew true, arched high, and finally embedded into the base of a window sill high above. Clank!
Holding their breath, the figure yanked a lever on the hookshot's handle. The silver thread went taunt against its lofty anchor, pulling the infiltrator upward so that they flew towards the middle height of the castle—like a bird.
Soundlessly, they landed on the window sill. Unhooking the needles, retracting them, and then pocketing the hookshot away—the figure then leaned up, stood on rear limbs, and side-sidled stealthily along the grand ledge connecting all of the upper stained-glass windows of the palace. They had to stop suddenly—frozen and breathless—as a pegasus guard's searchlight swept brightly over the polished surface of the palace walls.
All was silent and still. The figure remained dead as stone, patient and waiting.
At last, the searchlight zoomed off. There was a flap of armored wings, and the pegasus passed swiftly overhead.
Exhaling heavily, the infiltrator slid and crept towards a particularly wide window depicting a baby dragon saving a sports arena from a falling chunk of ice. Settling there, the figure let loose an apologetic exhale before producing three levitating diamonds from a silken pocket. With breathtaking precision, the figure pressed all three diamonds against the glass and caaaaaaaaaarefully rotated them in a perfect pony-sized circle. Sure enough, the sharp stones cut a neat swath out of the material. The circle of glass fell loose—but the figure gracefully caught it in a bubble of blue telekinesis. Angling their body neatly, they leapt like a cat through the fresh hole that was made...
...and rolled to a stop against the marble tile floor of the castle interior. Perching upright, the figure tossed their head back... but threw loose their crested hood in the process.
“... … …” Rarity's exposed eyes narrowed, staring left. Staring right. Staring ahead.
The coast was clear. The hallway was empty: nothing but the flicker of candlelight causing the shadows of velvet tapestries to dance and quiver.
Rarity exhaled, slowly standing up and straightening her mane. Her horn still glowed from levitating the cut circle of glass. Neatly, she turned around and slid the cut panel back into place within the window behind her. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she rotated the circle so that the baby dragon was once-again belching flame neatly at the falling chunk of ice above.
But just then—she heard heavily-armored hoofsteps—and Rarity's smile faded. Drawing the crested hood back over her head and mane, she darted up the hallway and squatted behind an antique armoire. She watched from her hiding place as two sentries marched towards the north end of the castle, their helmeted expressions dull and deadpan as they carried on with their habitual patrol.
Holding her breath, Rarity waited for the guards to leave well beyond earshot. Once she felt that it was safe to proceed, she galloped stealthily ahead. Her infiltration of the Palace's Third Story was careful, strategic, and—above all—slow... with the shrouded fashionista pausing carefully during each illicit perch behind a piece of furniture, a suit of armor, and a dangling tapestry.
However, time was of the essence. Rarity remembered the words she had heard uttered by Princess Celestia just moments ago. If she did not reach her goal in time, then everything she had put her heart and mind to would be ruined.
So, with brave breaths, she quickened her pace. Sneaking down a long hallway, Rarity took a sharp left, approaching a marble railing overlooking an enormous, palatial sunroom. It was a two-story drop to the elaborate checkerboard tile floor below. But rather than plunge, Rarity leapt out entirely—using a burst of telekinesis to steady herself—and she landed neatly on a dangling crystalline chandelier.
There were several more chandeliers just like it—suspended in a neat line—that led towards her destination: a vent shaft across the way. Carefully measuring her body weight and trajectory, she leapt from one crystalline array to the next, struggling to not make even the slightest jingle with each landing.
This was unbelievably important, because—far below—two alicorns loomed within earshot. The younger of the two stood at the open windows to a westward facing balcony. Princess Luna sat with a meditative expression, her horn glowing brilliantly while Princess Celestia paced in a circle beside her, rambling breathily.
“...and he kept flirting with me all night!” Celestia groaned, rolling her rosy eyes. “While part of me is somewhat impressed by the sheer audacity, it was all I could do to keep myself from breaking face and yelling at the diplomat in the middle of Twilight's pageant!”
“Are you certain it was flirting, dear sister?” Luna asked. Her eyes sparkled as a bright pale object manifested itself against the fabric of night in the stellar distance.
“Am I certain?” Celestia pouted, stomping a hoof down. “Luna—he insisted on gifting me every hour, on the hour!”
“That could just have been simple appeasement,” Luna mused with a slight smirk. “It wouldn't be the first time foreign dignitaries arrive in the name of 'Friendship,' only to put all effort into winning the favor of monarchs.”
“Ambassadors from Wildebeestibad do not 'appease.' Their kind have always had a one-track mind.”
“Are you certain? It has been an awfully long time since we held official talks with their royal advisors.”
“He kept gifting me candies, Luna!”
Luna snickered lightly. The pale glow of a fresh moonrise shone over the balcony and sunroom below. Rarity's jaw clenched as the crystalline chandelier shards glittered all around her in the rising light. She nevertheless propelled herself forward—frogleaping her graceful body one perch at a time, slowly approaching her destination.
“It is no laughing matter!” Celestia said, coming to a stop. As four maids approached her, she rolled her eyes and hid a smirk. “Alright—perhaps it is somewhat amusing. Surely the ambassador knew that I could have annihilated him with alicorn magic at any moment.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I cannot lie. The temptation was quite pressing.” Celestia loosened her body, allowing the maids to gently unfasten and remove the exquisite saddle dress from her barrel. Once free of the article, Celestia breathed with greater ease. “Alas, I simply chose to endure the persistent badgering. I did not wish to disrupt Twilight's event. You know how hard she works to put these elaborate Friendship exercises together...”
“One would think she would have lectured the representatives of Wildebeestibad on Equestrian improprieties.”
“Nowhere is it written that one cannot shower another Equestrian with excessive gifts.”
“But candies, though?”
“Candies. Lozenges. Mints. You name it.” Celestia glared at the rising moon with momentary ire. “I swear—he was simply using every possible excuse to make me masticate before the rest of the creatures in attendance.”
“How very like a wildebeest.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Celestia turned to smile and nod at the servants. “Thank you most kindly. You are dismissed.”
The maids curtsied, then trotted away with the loose saddle-dress in tow. Its studded tassels and immaculate silver threads were the last things Rarity saw... before lifting the grated entrance to the wall vent at the end of her sojourn and ducking swiftly inside. Once traversing the claustrophobic passage, Rarity slithered on her fuzzy belly, tilting her head and pricking her fuzzy ears for the sound of pronounced, metallic humming.
This led her down, descending the inner belly of the castle. She carefully navigated the lengths of a vertical shaft, pressing her hooves against the inner walls of the vent and sliiiiiiiiiiiding all the way down.
Clank!
At last, she burst through a grate, flipped, and landed like a feline at the front of a long, long subterranean hallway. Mentally scanning blueprints that she had studied during the hurried train-ride to Canterlot, Rarity put two and two together and realized that she was located within the side maintenance entrance to the palace's basement chamber. That meant the locked door behind her led directly to the supply yard. And at the far end of the hallway ahead...
“... … ...” Rarity tilted her fuzzy nose upward. She sniffed delicately... sniffed again... and hummed.
Detergent.
She was close.
Encouraged, the mare took a bold step forward—but she froze before making a single centimeter of progress. Her sapphire eyes shot downward, watching as a few specks of dust shimmered scarlet before vanishing into nothingness.
“Mmmmm...” The mare tongued the inside of her muzzle.
Then—with a flash of brilliance—she reached deep into her pale robes and produced a chalice of pink perfume. Aiming it down the hallway, she spritzed liberally... and the resulting mist exposed a criss-crossing lattice of ruby red lasers filling the breadth of the narrow chamber.
Rarity exhaled heavily. Then—with nimble precision—she jumped, strafed, leapt, crouched, and crawled her way through the fluctuating security field. She made it halfway down the hallway when the lasers vanished. So she sprayed more of the perfume, mapping out the rest of her convoluted path. It took a few more minutes than she was comfortable with, but she eventually made it to the door on the other end.
Once there, she reached into yet another pocket of her robes, producing a pair of bobby pins. Licking her lips, she used the tools to pick the lock. There was eventually a satisfying click. Rarity pushed the door open just wide enough to peer inside. The mechanical hum that greeted her was almost deafening.
The next basement chamber was filled to the brim with washing machine after washing machine after washing machine. In the far corner were multiple driers, ironing boards, and even a steam press or two. It was abundantly clear that the laundromat was filled with enough appliances to handle the entire royal entourage and then some.
But what mattered the most to Rarity was—
“My my... isn't this gown absolutely exquisite?!?”
“!!!” Rarity ducked low. She catwalked her way into the laundromat proper, quietly shutting the hallway door behind her with a nudge of her purple tail.
Far across the way, the quartet of maids had finally arrived from undressing the Princess in the sunroom. Between the four of them, they carefully conveyed the bejeweled saddle, carrying it to the most elaborate washing machine within the chamber.
“Ohhhhhh—I'm so jealous! Her Majesty brings home some of the most beautiful gifts from Ponyville!”
“Whoever gave her this must be Equestria's most talented seamstress! How did they even get these rubies so finely etched into the fabric??”
“We shan't gawk too long over the Royal Sister's fineries, fillies. Let us simply clean this saddle so that Princess Celestia can try it on again at her soonest convenience.”
Meanwhile, Rarity was darting her way behind one drier after another. Pausing, she spotted a clear path between her location and where the four maids were preparing a royal wash. The fashionista made to dash forward—when she heard a loud, snoring voice. Flashing a look to her left, she spotted a royal guard slumped against a chair beside the basement exit. He cradled his helmet in his hooves as he sawed metaphorical logs with huge sinus cavities. Although he was asleep, a lengthy spear rested against the wall beside his figure, and he was the one thing lingering between Rarity and a steep stairwell leading up and away from that place.
Rarity bit her lip. Her ears drooped beneath her hood as she sighed... then reached once more within her robe. Producing four suction cups, she spidered her way up the opposite wall. Next—holding her breath—she shimmied carefully across the ceiling, making her way overhead to right above where the four maids were priming a crystal-powered washing machine.
“Oi! This is going to be a most delicate job, for certain!”
“Don't fret. We have extra leyline inductors sent in from the Crystal Empire! We'll just put it on the longest cycle, add extra water, and use all four of our horns to enchant the activator!”
“By Starswirl's beard! What detergent is gentle enough so as not to tarnish these precious gemstones?”
“Let's use that imported supply from Trottingham! If it's good enough for the Duchess' intimates, then it's more than sufficient to handle this!”
“Even still—for the Princess' sake—I suggest we keep two sets of eyes on the wash at all times.”
“Agreed. We can perform a manual wash if the automation proves hazardous.”
It was as Rarity feared. The maidservants were too busy worrying about the fabric of the dress saddle itself that they completely overlooked normal, base procedures. It was a matter of seconds before the article would be completely dunked within the washer's load.
She had to hurry.
She propelled herself forward, praying that the hum of mana-powered engines would mask the plop-plop-plops of her suction cups against that stone ceiling. At last, she hung from the ceiling, directly above the maids, the wash... and that precious, precious saddle.
“Gently, fillies. Gently.”
The fine, lacy thing was propped on the washer's lid... just above a sudsy, frothing fate.
“Easy does it. We must ease it in slowly together.”
Rarity gulped. She loosened her front hooves, then dangled upside down from where here back limbs still clung to the cups. Reaching one last time into her robes, she produced a sewing needle that had been bent into a hook at the end of a long golden thread and spun it in her fetlock like a lasso.
“Ah! I almost forgot!”
“What? Now is the absolute worst time!”
“The fabric softener!”
“Ah! But of course! How silly of us!”
Precisely then and there...
...all four maids turned and looked away from the washing machine... … … and the saddlebag perched precariously upon its lid.
This was it. This was Rarity's one and only moment. She would not get another chance.
Holding her breath, Rarity spun the needle once more... twice more... thrice...
“... … …”
And she flung it downward at the saddle. The needle flew the length of the thread, shot directly into dress saddle's right pocket, and embedded into something.
“!!!” Rarity's eyes lit up beneath her hood. Gritting her teeth, she jerked back on the string.
Sure enough, the hook exited the pocket that it had so swiftly entered just milliseconds ago. As the improvised fishing line recoiled back towards its lofty source, Rarity's target dangled bright and pastel and pink upon the bent needle. It was a single strip of bubblegum, stenciled all over with the emblem of wildebeest horns.
Barely within the next breath:
“Let's not tarry too much on the wash, fillies.”
“Indeed. The fabric softener will show up sooner or later.”
And the saddle dress was dropped ceremoniously into the sudsy wash...
...meanwhile the strip of bubblegum was hoisted safely and cleanly away from the near-disastrous scene altogether.
Rarity exhaled with relief, smiling rosily to herself. She finished coiling the line, grabbed the stick of gum, and pocketed it deeply within her robes. Returning to the suction cups, she crawled the last length of the ceiling and descended the nearest wall. Waiting until the maids' attention was turned away from her, she quietly—and briskly—trotted for the exiting stairwell—
Bonk!
—only for her fetlock to knock into a random bottle of fabric softener. Rarity locked up, watching with wide eyes as the bottle ricocheted into a broomstick... which tipped over into a container of bleech... which knocked loose a package of mothballs... which spilled dust over the face of the sleeping guard... who sneezed himself awake.
“Aaaa—chooo!” Rubbing his nose, the lazy guard squinted over at Rarity. He immediately jolted in place. “What the buck?!?”
“Aaaaaaaiiiieeeee!” The maids immediately shrieked at the sight of the pale-robed infiltrator. “Intruder! Intruderrrrrrrr!”
“Intruder in the laundromat!!!”
“Guards!!!”
“Halt, criminal scum!” Schiiiing! The guard shot up from his chair, aiming his spear straight at Rarity's face. “You've violated the law—mrmmmfffmmmfff!!!” He suddenly fussed and thrashed under the enshrouding weight of a tossed robe.
Rarity, now naked—(and fabulous)—leapt clear over the guard's struggling body. With a daring smirk, she galloped speedily up the stairwell, exiting the basement entirely. She had barely made it up two flights—however—when a general alarm blared through the heart of Canterlot Palace, shaking the royal foundation to its very core.
Cursing under her breath, Rarity chose to keep ascending. It was a good decision—because with each floor she blurred by, she could see thick and thicker phalanxes of guards rushing up hallways to intercept her. Soon enough, the spiraling ascent was filled with the hoofed echoes of a veritable army chasing up after her tail.
Eventually, Rarity's path ran out. She emerged—breathless and sweating—upon the open balcony of a looming tower. No sooner had she made her grand appearance that a throng of searchlights converged on her position. She squinted, raising a dainty hoof to shade her squinting eyes as the flapping forms of armored pegasi lowered from the heavens. As the noise of heavy hooves came to a clopping stop at the top of the stairs behind her, it was clear to Rarity that she was completely and utterly surrounded.
“Stop right there, assassin!” The night air shook all around her. “There is nowhere left to run!”
Somewhere... off in the distance... an eagle shrieked.
Rarity smirked. There twinkled a glint of daredevilish guile in her eye as she strafed sideways, approaching the very precipice of the castle balcony.
One of the many many many many guards gasped while training spears on her at a distance. “What do you think you're doing—?!”
What indeed...
Rarity stood up on her hind quarters, balanced neatly at the knifing edge of the balcony. She spread her forelimbs outward in the shape of a cross. Then—with eyes gracefully shut—the fashionista tilted forward.
“No! Don't—!”
There was the tiniest springing push at the last second, propelling Rarity just far enough so that her plunge cleared the multiple parapets and ramparts blurring past her body...
...which landed neatly and upside down within a strategically-placed cart stacked full of soft, cushioning straw.
Fwoosh!
Seconds later, Rarity leapt out of the cart altogether. Shaking stalks of hay out of her mane, she galloped for the front gate of Canterlot's royal quarter.
It was then that a circle of pegasus guards descended upon the mare, surrounding her on all sides with spears, swords, and polearms.
Rarity merely licked her smiling lips. With a flick of her fetlocks—schiiiing!—she extended shiny daggers from previously-hidden gauntlets. The first of countless foes charged in from a random direction, and she began a series of blurred parries, fighting every offensive pony off with impossible finesse and aplomb.
“It's... it's t-too much! My mind... it can't t-take it!”
“The memories! They're all getting entangled! The system simply isn't powerful enough to process what happens next!”
“Quick! Lucy! Pull me out!”
“Hold on! I'm on it!”
“Hurry, Lucy! She's j-just too fabulous for me to handle! It's like the whole world is crashing in on my skull!”
“I got you! Hang tight! You'll be out in a jiffy—!”
With a heavy-winded gasp, a young man shot up from a glowing bed covered in elaborate diodes and glowing circuitry.
Across an open sterile labroom from him, a blonde woman sat cross-legged at a computer. Upon seeing the man waking up, she beamed. “This is incredible! So—there was almost another Bubblegum Incident that was orchestrated thousands of years ago!”
“Guh...” The man slumped on the edge of the bed, rubbing his sweaty forehead. “...is that all that you can think of right now? I almost became a vegetable!”
“Calm down, Desmond.” She typed madly away at the keyboard in front of her. “For what it's worth, your silly little headache has fetched us some priceless info.” Her eyes narrowed on the screen. “Turns out the Templars had an agent working for them within the ancient state of Wildebeestibad! But just why were they wishing to sabotage the Equestrian Diarchy? And how would it have led to finding a Piece of Eden?” She rubbed her chin in thought. “This will require a few more trips into the Animus, for sure...”
“Uhm... Lucy?” He gulped. “That's all good'n'stuff, but I've just got one question.”
“Shoot.”
He hugged himself, grimacing hard. “Just which one of my great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents fucked a horse???”
