Cadance generally didn't use the Empire's throne room for meetings unless she had no other choice, and it wasn't even for the usual reason. The usual reason for abandoning most of the sections which were inextricably connected to the previous government was Sombra and in those cases, she was just trying to let her citizens meet with her within freshly-designated, fully neutral spaces: places which triggered no bad memories at all. And there was some of that connected to the central throne, but...
There were times when she had to occupy it for a while: this was usually due to visiting dignitaries who felt that 'improper' settings were beneath them. And when that happened, the reactions were always the same. The alicorn would wearily go over the exact wording of their written less-than-request. A moment would be taken for a sigh or, if it was going to be a proper one, fifteen seconds because Cadance had a natural singer's impressive lung capacity. And then she would have to deal with every other problem. Again.
She had effectively inherited a nation where the vast majority of inanimate surfaces were made out of crystal. In the case of the throne room, this created a huge space which was both reflective and refractive: however, when it came to the images which might be bounced back at you, 'accurate' was off the list. The supposed Seat Of Power was at the center of the funhouse, right next to the most distorting of the mirrors: one yak had stomped in, spotted the one facet which effectively made him look like an undernourished llama, and nearly stomped out again on the spot. Cadance had flown in front of him just in time to try and save international relations, and had only broken the freshly-created ice by showing him the facet which rendered her into a mule.
There had been a price for that. The laughter had only made him stomp harder.
You had to walk on crystal. The natives instinctively moved in ways that not only avoided everyone else's inevitable slipping, skidding crash, but which brought forth music from the streets. The sound of everypony heading for work in the morning was a orchestra of industry with a thousand instruments: schoolchildren sulking their way to classes sounded a minor dirge. On their best day, a non-native would be sounding off raw noise. A happily stomping yak was naturally inclined towards sanity-shattering cacophony, not that he'd noticed. Cadance, whose musical instincts didn't seem to extend into her hooves, often found herself flying in and out of spaces just to give a little assistance to silence -- but she had to land sometime.
When it came to the throne room, she'd spent an instructive solitary afternoon in solidly planting her hooves around The Seat Of Power, carefully making notes about -- well, the notes. Figuring out exactly which semiquavers went where. And then, knowing it would take months to truly memorize it all, she'd reluctantly placed a series of tiny chips into the floor: things which wouldn't interfere with the music, but did serve as visual cues which reminded her of exactly where to step in order to produce a song of joy as she moved towards the place where she could truly serve her nation.
She'd been happy about that until the next morning, which was when she'd found that the throne room was healing itself.
So for truly personal meetings, such as the one which began as the white unicorn mare carefully pushed open the door with a somewhat-shaky right forehoof... for those, it was the office. At least she could carpet the entirety of the office, along with covering every wall in fabric drapings and making sure she knew exactly what every light source was doing.
There were also a few problems associated with light, and that was why her guest was (unknowingly) here.
"Hello!" the unicorn enthused as she poked her head into the cool shade of the office. "I know I'm a little late, but I wanted to find my own way here! See what's changed since my last visit! And I did become a little distracted, I admit that! For example, there was that delightful little gift and gem shop on the Departure side of the train station! Take A Piece Of The Empire Home With You! I fully intend to indulge! On my way back, of course. Some of the tourists I came in with felt the same way. Three of the eight. And then I was on the streets, and... following the new, translated signs... it is -- actually a little hard to make out some of the..." She took another breath. "At any rate, it's so nice to see you again!"
Cadance, who'd been waiting behind the well-worn imported wood desk, watched her visitor blink a few times -- or at least interpreted the suggestion of movement as such. It was hard to tell through the thick sunglasses.
"...actually," the unicorn considered as fresh tears ran down tracks of saturated fur, "it's rather hard to see you at all. I haven't seen this much shadow since departing the train."
The alicorn patiently nodded.
Soft blue ignited around the visitor's horn, projected down towards the sunglasses and carefully removed them. More blinking followed.
"And there you are!" Rarity brightly announced as her eyes finally stopped watering. "Much better! Now..." The smile was sincere, and just a little nervous. "...if you would be willing... I believe this is a good time to provide just a few more details? Because all your letter truly discussed was a commission." A little more quickly, "Which of course was more than enough to get me on the train! Especially with a contract which also compensated me for travel and lost sales time. But as I can only be here for a week, I believe we should begin at once."
Cadance nodded again. She'd only had so many hours in which to directly learn about the unicorn, and she'd found herself spending most of them in nodding a lot.
The soft blue was now delving into well-styled saddlebags: a moment of rummaging quickly produced six measuring tapes, all of which began to unfurl. "Now. Exactly what am I making for you?" And with tones dropping into the octave of purest hope, "...maternity wear?"
Don't tell her.
Not yet.
I haven't even told Shining.
"It's not for me," the young alicorn told her.
Rarity blinked again.
"Your spouse?" Three of the tapes dipped. "I seldom work with stallions, but --"
"-- the Empire."
The unicorn sat down.
There was a visitor's bench on the far side of the desk. It was plush, comfortable, and nowhere near where the mare's hindquarters had just collapsed onto the carpet. (Cadance briefly considered what note would have been produced by a bare impact, and quickly settled on a somewhat placid G -4.)
"...what?"
"The Empire," Cadance repeated. "All of it."
"I..." the unicorn barely breathed. "I cannot, not for... five, trying to work for five at once nearly... I..."
The tail was twitching. The alicorn, even with limited association to draw upon, knew the edges of the eyes were going to be close behind. The unicorn was a maximum of thirty seconds away from outright flight and if that wound up requiring a wing spell, then it was going to be cast.
And this is why I couldn't tell you in the letter. Because even with full details, I never would have gotten you up here. And I can't talk you down unless we're in the same room.
"Rarity," Cadance gently offered, slowly standing -- or almost so: she kept her knees somewhat bent, minimizing the height difference, "it's not about making dresses and suits for thousands of ponies." Coming around the desk, moving in a crouch-walk. "It really isn't..."
"Then..." the mare shakily forced out, "...what is it about?"
Cadance slowly came up to the shivering form. Gently, reassuringly nuzzled the unicorn's forehead, just below the horn.
"It's about the idea of dresses and suits," Cadance told her. "Because they don't have it. Just light. And if they don't catch on, then the tourist numbers are going to top out at eight. Forever."
She backed up slightly, and looked down just in time to see the mare's eyes go bright.
"Say that again," Rarity slowly requested, as blue irises began to fill with Dream. "They don't have the what?"
They were both sitting properly now: one mare on each side of the desk.
"Light's been a problem from the first day," Cadance told the mare. "A steadily-increasing one."
"There were no issues when we all initially crossed --"
"-- the first free day," Cadance clarified. "Sombra had some sort of effect on the Empire which made things comfortable for him, but it started to fall apart when he did. There was still some lingering the last time you were here -- but it's fully gone now, and nopony knows how to replicate it."
"Because the self-titled Pony Of Shadows had very little need for light," Rarity nodded. "And his lost spell moderated the strength of it?"
"The effects," the alicorn sighed. "There's certain problems with living in a world where just about everything native is made of crystal, Rarity. Just for starters, the buildings generate hot spots."
"...they do?"
"They have to," Cadance stated. "It's part of the design. The old architects put them to practical use. Hot water, mostly. But the blueprints are lost, and the crystal ponies don't always seem to notice when they're standing in the middle of one. I'm still trying to locate all of them. And post signs, because it's only the crystals who don't notice."
"Signs," Rarity repeated.
"Loiterers May Catch Fire. And that's not even the worst of it. Because light passes through crystal." She brought her left forehoof up just enough to make the frustrated gesture visible. "Sometimes it breaks up. Other facets have it intensify. And then it goes all over the place. I've made sunglasses freely available to everyone who comes in from the trains. I keep revising the signs about why they have to be worn: I'm not sure there's one up now."
"It was common sense --"
"-- if only," Cadance sighed. "Because some refuse to put them on. A sign told them to, and who's going to listen there? They ignore crystal greeters, because there's always tourists who think they've learned more about a country than the natives just through the act of buying a train ticket. And the ones who do use them... they take them off to clean them, they put them down for a moment and don't remember where, they wear them faithfully and it doesn't matter because the sunglasses don't fit perfectly against the face and there's always a gap. A moment when light gets through." This sigh was deeper, "And I have tourists who go around with their eyes constantly watering. Others stumble into whatever shade they can find and don't come out until Sun's lowered. There's been at least three who came out of the train station, screamed, closed their eyes, and dove back in. They go home, they tell everyone about their horrible vacation, and the word spreads..."
"...which means others will refuse to consider the trip," said a somewhat hollow voice.
Cadance wearily nodded. "We're still trying to reestablish the economy, and that's part of why we'll be pushing for the Games. We need the tourism income. And no one is going to come see the Empire when they can barely see. So I've been kicking at the problem from all sides."
"What have you tried so far?"
"I can't paint the buildings," the alicorn noted. "It removes one of the main reasons for tourists to come: seeing just how unique the Empire is. So I hired a dazzle --" and managed a smile. "No, you can giggle: in this context, it's funny. A group of zebras doesn't have the same laugh built in. And I asked them to create an anti-glare treatment."
"Is it helping?"
"It works," Cadance evenly stated. "On the buildings. It's clear-coat, of course. We couldn't distort the colors."
"But --" Rarity just barely got out.
"-- it also evaporates every three days."
The repetition on "Evaporates," was slightly dismal in tone.
"Boils off, really," Cadance corrected herself. "The current version means the heat gets held back for a while. And then it has to go somewhere. It's quick: you can stand right next to the wall and not get burned. But the alchemists think there's room for improvement. Eventually, we'll be able to deal with the inanimate."
"But not," Rarity realized, "the living."
It triggered another nod. "The current treatment ingredients can't touch fur, and the alchemists don't know of anything safe. And every crystal pony interacts with the light. In unique, beautiful, and blinding ways." Followed by the weariest of sighs. "They don't even notice. We've had Equestrian doctors looking at the crystal ponies for a while now, checking for long-term physical effects from the isolation. Trying to figure out if they're vulnerable to diseases which evolved while they were -- gone, and which vaccines might be safe for them. They found a special layer within their eyes. It's what protects the crystals from bright flashes of light. The physicians think crystals could look directly at Sun for a minute or two without risking damage. But everyone who enters the Empire is vulnerable."
"And clothing would at least moderate the problem until something else comes along," Rarity slowly nodded. "Simply by bringing down the amount of surface exposed. But..." The next little inhale had a somewhat liquid quality, and came with its own twitch of the curled tail. "...they truly have no concept of dressing themselves?"
Cadance pondered the liquid aspects of the sound. It was somewhat like hearing a fish realize that air-breathers might not have a word for 'water'. It also came with the pity which arose from assuming everyone above the surface was constantly suffocating.
"Very little," the alicorn replied. "Collars can denote standing. There's a few uniforms around, and of course we're getting the Crystal Guard accustomed to wearing armor again. Some professions need garments. I've seen some athletic outfits, but the coverage is scant. Ceremonial wear exists, but you can't have ceremonies all the time." (And, half-lost in her semi-morbid review, she failed to see the unicorn miss that.) "But on the whole, there's two styles: full nudity and I'm Going Over The Weather Border Now, which requires coverage. Which isn't even all that thick --"
But Rarity's eyes were bright again. Lit from within from the power of Dream.
"Nothing evolved," she softly said. "Not even from the basic need for seasonal coverage, not when they barely have seasons. And with the weather managed to a degree which even Equestria never sees, creating so little requirement for protection..."
And then the light clouded.
"A week," the unicorn tremulously considered. "I was only able to clear so much time for being here, and I still have to travel back. One cannot mandate fashion --"
"I know," Cadance wryly agreed, and felt her ears twitch. "I've been very careful about new laws, Rarity. Sombra had too many." (She was somewhat worried about having too few.) "I don't have any problems with posting signs, because that's just basic safety regulations. But trying to legislate pants feels like a really bad idea. They have to get there on their own."
" -- I can't design a single style which works for everypony within a single week..."
"You don't have to," the alicorn gently reassured her. "Show them something basic, which they could even make for themselves if they wanted to. We have cloth: it just isn't used that way. Give them the idea of clothing for its own sake, for pleasure and for display. The rest will evolve on its own."
"And if I -- did come up with something later?" asked the hopeful voice of a Dream which had just recognized the potential allies of Historical Impact and Exclusive Market, with a side order of Profit.
"Then come back."
The mare thought it over.
"Why me?" inquired a temporary union of Dread and Doubt. "You must know so many designers --"
Rarity paused. Stared.
"-- your expression," the unicorn observed, "is rather... complicated."
Cadance briefly wondered which exact arrangement of facial features indicated too many years spent as the only alicorn who'd been truly among the public and, when compared to Celestia, was considerably closer to normal pony proportions.
She didn't mind getting dressed up -- occasionally. But she very much preferred Sun on her fur. And aspiring designers tended to look at her in the same way first-time actors regarded that one small-town stage which always managed to sell out the house: as a chance to potentially make an impactful debut in a venue which meant something, and doing so before the real critics turned up. And then they let her know it. Sometimes in person, often with letters, and always with sketches attached, because she was basically a full-time mobile display rack which got rolled into a lot of parties.
It was somewhat like having cockroaches constantly requesting an invitation to establish shop, followed by turning up anyway because the infestation was sure it knew how to make her kitchen pop.
"Just thinking," Cadance pleasantly (and technically) failed to lie. "I know of a lot of designers, Rarity. I don't know them personally. And you're the only one my sister-in-law trusts -- a mare whom we both know cares slightly less about her looks than she does about the next issue of The Magic Denialist's Rationality."
"More about her looks," Rarity immediately said. "She's never willfully destroyed a cart full of fabric."
They both giggled.
"That's enough of a qualification for me," Cadance finished. "And since there's no manestyling involved this time..." The next giggle was treated as a sign of healing. "...will you?"
The unicorn got up from her bench. Trotted around the desk, and offered an extended foreleg.
"I am willing to try," Rarity carefully offered. "But for a project of this scope... I cannot promise any degree of results."
"Trying is all I can ask for," the alicorn reassured her. "And I promise, you'll be paid either way."
"Then..." The mare swallowed, and the elaborate tail twitched again. "...yes."
They pressed hooves, and then Rarity took a step back.
"Only a week," she said. "I should start immediately."
"I won't always be available to check on things," the young alicorn told her. "But you may wind up needing resources from unexpected places."
"Access to cloth, at the very least," Rarity agreed. "And a lot of it. I was only able to bring so much on the train, and those supplies were anticipating your hues."
Which was the alicorn's own fault, but... rookie leaders made mistakes.
"So I'm opening the resources of the Empire to you," Cadance happily Mistaked. "Within reasonable limits, but without question. Just tell my staff what you need."
The next time Cadance saw the unicorn was at the public demonstration.
It was typically easy to find a foreigner in the open on the Empire's streets: Cadance usually just got some altitude, looked down, and checked the crowd until she found the one person whose back wasn't trying to blind her. In this case, it had been even simpler, because Rarity had been rather busy. Because the unicorn had been given free, unsupervised access to the Empire's resources, and Rarity had brought a few portable sewing devices onto the train -- but as she'd said, she hadn't packed sufficient cloth, and she'd somehow completely neglected to pack a printing press.
Elegant calligraphy had been offered up to the palace engraver, who had painstakingly translated it: first into Ancient Crystalia, and then into metal. The stamped-out results had been posted all over the capital, with time (after both school and work had let out, but with enough clock left to still get home for dinner) and directions clearly indicated -- as gentle suggestions, because you had to be careful about giving crystals orders. Anypony who wanted to see what was going on was free to head towards the huge open space in front of the Lattice, and that included Cadance. She'd just chosen to alight atop a building which offered a good viewing angle, or at the best one which imperfect sunglasses would allow. She didn't want to put any extra pressure on Rarity through being visible at the demonstration, and -- it was the Empire. A nation with almost no direct experience of the winged. It meant just about nopony ever looked up.
It was easy to see Rarity, who was standing near the center of the requested, somewhat-elevated stage, a few body lengths away from the ornate, currently-closed treasure chest. It was even easier to hear her, because the designer had asked for something which could carry her voice to the whole of what she'd been hoping would be a significant crowd. And the Empire had no true concept of fashion -- but it had crystal. A substance which played tricks with light and sound. Amplification was easy.
"...and I am certain that at least a few of you might vaguely remember me!" the designer teasingly called out to several hundred waiting ponies: a snout twitch adjusted the sunglasses. "As one of your saviors --"
"-- she's not a dragon."
Focus, however, was somewhat harder.
"Why is that weird pony pretending to be a dragon?" asked a piping youthful voice from somewhere in the crowd. "We all know what Spike looks like. She's not Spike. Where's Spike?"
The crowd began to murmur. The unicorn merely took a very, very, very slow breath.
"Local humor," Rarity declared. "Another reason to visit the Empire! But today, I am here to lead you into the land of variety!"
"Variety," said a stallion. "We're getting the theater set up. And a cinema. Is this vaudeville?"
"Make her dance," decided the youth. "I bet she can't dance right. The beams won't hit one target."
"What beams?" a mare observed. "She couldn't beam unless the Heart went off again!" And laughed. "Artificial beaming! For ponies who just aren't born with it!"
Cadance made sure her wings were in a pre-flight position and kept a clean line of sight on Rarity, or at least as clean as it could be. The alicorn couldn't teleport, but a high-speed swoop-and-evacuate-before-somepony-dies was a pretty good backup plan.
"...the variety," Rarity eventually said, mostly through her teeth, "of your appearance. How many of you trot about with bare coats every day? The same mane and tail styles, the same grooming? Never presenting a new facet to the world?"
It made the crowd murmur again, and the basic nature of that sound had changed.
They're thinking...
"Me," another mare admitted. "I haven't changed anything up for..." Stopped.
"Is this a new fur polish?" the next female checked, as her tones rose with hope. "I haven't seen a new fur polish in so long!"
"Manestyle revision?" a stallion just had to know. "Something which doesn't take three hours on both sides, plus two engineers to dismantle it safely? Come on, unicorn! What have you got? Because we haven't had anything new in --" and another stop, because no crystal wanted to think about that for long. "-- let's just see it!"
Rarity's smile manifested at the same moment as her horn's ignition. Soft blue interacted with the chest's locks, and the glowing lid flipped itself back.
"BEHOLD!" the designer called out to the waiting, willing, eager crowd. "THE WRAP!"
Several hundred pairs of biology-specialized optical lenses focused on a single emerging, floating, blue-glowing target.
Then they all blinked. At the same time.
"It's a very long piece of cloth," somepony said. "Several body lengths of it. And it's sort of -- creased? All over?"
"Pleated," offered a virtual master of foreign languages. "Are those called pleats? I saw the word in a book once. I wasn't sure what it meant."
"It's dark," a youth observed. "Why would something ever be dark?"
The collective murmur was changing again. When it came to languages, that particular rumble of group discontent was international.
"It is a WRAP!" Rarity frantically declared. "One wraps it about their person!"
The crowd took in the new information.
"Is this weight loss?" inquired a suspicious mare. "You wrap this thing around yourself, and it makes you -- it... what is it that earth pony was doing?"
"Which one?"
"The teal. Who was checking out the statues from that one vantage point platform in Geode and shuffling his hooves a lot."
There was a pause.
"You mean the one whose tail caught fire?"
"Wasn't that the red?"
"Fire's harder to notice on a red."
"The smoke wasn't hard to spot."
"There's been a lot of tourist ponies on the vantage point," somepony reasonably noted. "Because it's so easy to see the rest of the park. I can't keep track." Thoughtfully, "But they usually don't stay up there for long. I don't know why."
"Because," a relative genius tried, "their tails keep catching fire?"
"Why would a tail do that?"
"I don't know," a small filly decided. "Equestrians are weird."
"Look," the original mare in the sequence tried. "That thing they do. Before the fire."
"Smoke?"
"No. Water. They have water come out of their skin." (Several dozen ponies shuddered at the sheer weirdness of it.) "Then it soaks into their fur, so it goes all wet. And when the fur can't hold any more, it drips. What's the word for that?"
"Oh, sweat!" one of the stallions happily called out. "I sweat sometimes!"
"...you do?" emerged from that part of the crowd which was edging away from him.
"I bring metal from the train to the imported blacksmiths. Straight to the forge."
"...the..." emerged from many throats, all with the same note of questioning horror.
"They melt metal and make things with it. Because they can't work crystal."
Several hundred ponies mustered a nod of purest pity.
"So it's a little hot in there," the stallion concluded.
The entire crowd mulled over fresh data. Rarity, watching it all, hadn't blinked for about a minute.
"I get it," the original mare said. "A little hot. You sweat when it's a little hot. That's natural. Not like sweating just because you're standing on the vantage point platform. Or having a tail catch fire for no reason. That's just weird." And looked at the unicorn again. "So there was this article in one of the foreign magazines that said ponies who want to lose weight wind cloth around themselves. Until they sweat --"
Which was when far too many crystal ponies decided they'd caught on.
"Are you calling us fat?" asked a rather large number of mares, several stallions, and one filly who just liked yelling.
Rarity tried another breath. It didn't help.
"I believe," she finally said, "I will require a model."
The crowd pondered.
"Is that the model? The floating cloth?"
"What did she scale it down from?"
"How big is the original?" asked a rather impressed voice. "Could you drape the Dome with it?"
"...a model," tightly pushed its way out past incisors, "means somepony who will show you what it's for. And I would rather not demonstrate on myself --"
"-- yeah, like you're so skinny..."
A hard-planted white forehoof performed a half-rotation. The crystal stage squealed.
"-- because the purpose is to show others how their own appearance would change. May I please have a volunteer from the audience?"
Cadance winced. Nopony moved, because these were the ones who had survived Sombra. Volunteering wasn't always seen as something voluntary.
The dictator, however, had never thought to include the next part.
"Models," Rarity said as she levitated a small bag of clinking Crystakes shards out of the chest, "get paid."
Many ponies moved.
In all ways, Cadance considered Rarity to have chosen well. The unicorn had an eye for beauty, and that applied even when she was dealing with a fresh standard for what attractiveness was. She'd asked a number of the approaching mares to come up on stage, sorted out six, asked the crowd to cheer for their favorite at the moment that female was surrounded by soft blue glow, listened closely...
The winner, a forest-green, hormone-inducing shimmy of shimmer named Moldavite who was now serving as a model, had the full attention of many stallions, more than a few mares, and a couple of near-adolescents. The children were mostly confused.
"So the cloth glows?"
"The unicorn makes it glow."
"Why does cloth need to glow?"
"It glows when it moves. She's just making it go around the 'model'."
Solidly, "I don't want cloth moving. I have curtains. I decide when to open them. What if they change their mind?"
And when it came to the Empire's first-ever intended style? That had also been a solid choice. Rarity had, after two days of mostly-silent contemplation in a dedicated room -- the screams occasionally got out -- had decided to modify an ancient style from Equestria's Roamer region. THE WRAP was basically a reimagining of the toga. There was enough length to allow a pony to work it around their bodies in several ways. Variants in width at certain points allowed for easier encasement of limbs, and the pleats let it serve as One Current Size Fits A Pretty Decent Percentage Of The Population: We Can Keep It Going From There.
It was also a dark material. Something which not only blocked some of the light, but absorbed it. All THE WRAP had to do was catch on --
"-- you're putting it around my legs," Moldavite's rather brittle voice announced.
"Yes," Rarity said, and the glow intensified. "Everypony, please take note of my exact methodology. This prevents cross-hatching between any pair of limbs --"
"-- it hides my legs," the model declared. "I like my legs. I want ponies to see them. Because other ponies like my legs."
It was hard to tell exactly what was happening to Rarity's eyes. There was a lot of distance in play, along with sunglasses. But in this case, the sunglasses were actually helping Cadance to judge the mood.
They're moving a lot.
Can twitching do that?
"Ponies do like her legs," a stallion agreed.
The followup statement of "I nearly died for her legs," was, all things considered, rather casual.
The crowd immediately refocused.
The new mare casually shrugged. "I looked at her legs when I should have been working. I got caught. Nearly died."
They all nodded. That sort of thing happened.
"See?" Moldavite declared with satisfaction. "Legs worth dying for. Obviously not to be covered."
"THE WRAP," Rarity carefully intoned, "can be worn in any number of ways. I have printed a guide, which includes a number of sample sketches. All of which come with instructions, so that one can put it on without need for a horn --"
"-- and some of them don't cover legs?" the Empire's first model checked.
"...yes."
"Start over," announced the initial signs of professional learning. "With more leg."
The designer eventually complied.
"I also have a really good barrel. Which you're covering."
THE WRAP paused.
"...did anypony," Rarity calmly inquired, "nearly die for it?"
"I didn't keep track." The model looked over the crowd. "Anypony?"
Multiple heads shook. Light went everywhere, and some of it got through the gap between lenses and irises. The unicorn's eyes watered.
"Well, maybe they actually died," Moldavite reassured herself. "That happened a lot."
There was quite a bit of extra nodding.
"So what's the point of this thing?" the model asked.
"It changes your appearance in artistic ways," Rarity tried.
"I'm beautiful," countered the crystal. "Why would I want to change that?"
"It enhances beauty."
A slow thought assembled itself in Moldavite's brain, one neuron at a time.
"By hiding my body. Which is beautiful."
The purple tail was not lashing. It was making a very obvious show of not lashing. It was, in fact, not lashing so hard that the air was courteously getting out of the way regardless. "Making ponies dream of what must be under the concealment --"
"-- why would I conceal when I can just show off? Why not give them an exact dream? If they just have to imagine it, they'll get things wrong!"
Rarity seemed to be searching for an answer to that one. Moldavite didn't give her the time.
"It's bunching up at my joints."
Silence.
With open disgust, "I'm going to wind up washing this, aren't I?"
Note to self, a slightly dazed Cadance decided. Empire may be in future need of laundry service.
A stallion cleared his throat.
"So the idea here," he said, "is that I can't look at a pretty mare. In any number of ways. Why is that a good thing?"
There were any number of things Rarity might have said in reply and when Cadance looked back on what happened, she decided that all of them probably would have been the wrong one.
The actual choice, however, was likely the worst.
"It's not just for mares," was where the designer's raw insult began to express itself. "This is expressly designed to be unisex."
They didn't know the word.
They broke down what seemed to be the components, and used them as the foundation for a guess.
The horror rippled through every strand of crystal fur.
"It does what?"
"It takes away --"
"-- we'll all be the same --"
"-- does it makes us want -- but you're ugly! You don't reflect at all! There aren't enough Hearts in the world --"
"-- mommy? What's sex?"
Cadance's wings flared to their full span. Her horn ignited, and the first projections from the fast-diving alicorn moved towards the impending stampede's outer edge. It still left enough time for Moldavite to announce the truest mastery of her new craft.
"I'M NOT GETTING PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS!"
It was later, and they were back in the office. Everypony was safe. Explanations had happened. Fashion had not.
Rarity was still fuming. This had almost become literal on the way in, but Cadance had managed to direct the furious pacing away from the hot spot.
"Nudists!" she angrily summarized from what was now a well-trodden bench. "An entire nation of natural nudists! -- well... ponies... and most species... and it is possible to go too far in the other direction, we found a clothist colony once and please do not ask me to say any more about it for at least an hour -- but nudists! Nudists who do not perceive how clothing for its own sake can possibly have any value!"
Cadance, for her part, simply sighed. (Nodding felt inappropriate.)
"I understand if you want to go home," she sympathetically offered. "You'll be compensated for the full week --"
"-- no."
The word had been surprisingly... solid.
Cadance stared into intense, cold blue eyes.
"Rarity," she carefully said, "I don't think we can try another demonstration. Not for the time you have left in the North: I feel like we have to give them at least a moon to calm down. It took you two days for THE WRAP and a third to arrange the demonstration. You were going to leave in four days. That's not exactly a moon. And you have to get back to the Boutique --"
"-- no more public stage shows," Rarity tightly agreed. "But there is time left to me still, is there not? If I wish to use it. And I had been thinking about this. The Empire has no clothing for its own sake, because the factors which promote such evolution are largely absent." With the softest of snorts, "I reached the point where I was waiting for one of the crystals to announce that Sombra had forbidden pleats."
"Why would Sombra have --"
"-- weapons concealment."
The worst part was being able to picture it.
"So that is the next approach angle," the designer stated. "I am no longer thinking about the clothing itself, for it took too long to choose something basic enough for a foundation, along with being sufficiently versatile for all. I would lose the remainder of my stay here to any search for a backup. We are now looking not at the outfit, but the reasons for wearing it."
She stood up. Four hooves slammed into the carpet.
"I shall," Rarity announced, "keep you updated on my progress. After it happens. Should I make any. Until then." And stomped out.
Cadance found herself staring at slowly-expanding bench padding, and noticed the presence of a few shed tail hairs.
"...reasons...?" she asked the air.
On the fourth day, the acoustics of crystal meant the Empire's leader heard the distant palace-held argument from rather a long way off and, once she identified its nature, quickly decided not to get any closer.
"So it's ceremonial wear," asked the voice of Tanza: a member of her Cabinet, and one of the oldest survivors. A mare of some reputation, and one who was known for being willing to try new things.
"Yes," said a rather satisfied, fully-unseen unicorn. "I'm glad we could establish that."
"And the ceremony is for...?" Tanza tried to verify.
"It is to signify The Ownership Of The New Closet."
There was a pause.
"Go over 'closet' again."
The unicorn did.
"So it's like a pantry," Tanza considered. "But for clothing."
"Exactly."
"...who would ever have that much clothing?"
"You'll need the space eventually," Rarity reasoned. "Even when you start with a single WRAP. It's best to seed it early."
"Do Equestrians have closets?"
"Absolutely," emerged with total confidence.
"All of them?"
"...most."
"Most," was rather dubious.
"Many. Will you settle for 'many'?"
"And they wear clothing to show they have a closet. As part of a ceremony."
The pause was just long enough to for Cadance to remember that Rarity didn't bear Honesty.
"Yes," made its bright way into the world.
Tanza, however, was a mare of experience.
"I'm not sure you can just invent a ceremony. Or give us one of yours."
"People clearly invent ceremonies all the time," Rarity logicked. "Or we wouldn't have any, now would we?"
"So there's a closet," the blue-black mare changed tactics. "Where does that come from?"
"You build it from the space within your residence. The bedroom would be choice, as you'd wish to get dressed immediately after rising in the morning. ...well, after rising and toiletries. Placing the closet too close to the bathroom is a bad idea, though. Water spray arises from the strangest places." It was possible to hear the shudder. "Incidentally, never keep your toothbrush in direct proximity to the toilet trench --"
"-- I build it out of my bedroom," Tanza cut her off.
"Ideally. As I can hardly request that anypony create a new house --"
"So I'm going to have a smaller bedroom."
"Well --"
"-- I'm older than you," Tanza said. "Even after you take out everything that happened. Quite a bit older. But I still get stallions."
"I'm sure," Rarity carefully tried, "you have your suitors --"
"-- I don't need a smaller bedroom. Or a bedroom for clothing. Clothes don't sleep. And how long does this ceremony last?"
"Well," the unicorn pleasantly began --
-- Twilight had also said nopony was willing to let Rarity touch Applejack's necklace, because having an Element explode was presumably bad --
"-- the ceremony itself is rather brief. But there is a certain need to keep the closet -- consecrated."
"Consecrated."
Brightly, "It keeps the moths out."
"And those are...?"
Cadance patiently waited as a crystal pony, who lived in an artificial warm-weather pocket within the arctic, was told about certain facts of temperate zone life.
"...oh."
"You see the necessity."
"I've never seen a moth --"
"-- and to maintain the consecration," Rarity cut her off, "one wears something from the closet."
"How often?" rose up on a cloud of understandable suspicion.
Rarity told her.
There was carpet on the floor and fabric hangings on the walls in Cadance's office, and that was what made it possible for those who weren't crystal ponies to see normally.
In fact, the fifth day found the two occupants able to see many things.
"Have you noticed," a shaking Rarity asked as her bandaged body failed to burrow all the way into the bench's padding, "that quite a few of the local mares are completely unreasonable?"
Cadance said nothing. It didn't feel like a normal thing. The young alicorn liked to talk, because then there was a chance to talk things out. But she didn't seem to have any words which felt suitable.
"I blame the c-c-c-culture," the vibrating unicorn concluded.
Or at least, ones which were suitable in polite company.
"Possibly Sombra?" Rarity proposed. A twitchy blue field adjusted three wrappings. "Nothing y-y-you did, of course..."
The silent alicorn was now waiting for somepony to spray her with insect repellent. Just in case. Of course, it was the Empire and when you didn't have much in the way of insects...
Rarity was still shaking. Or... shivering.
"However," the unicorn finally added, "the ponies who watch the weather border maintenance -- devices? Wonders? Equipment? How were those made? -- at any rate, they are actually quite pleasant to deal with."
Don't talk.
Don't talk.
Don't talk.
"They already knew that you'd given me permission to access any resource I needed."
The wind gust rattled the building. Chimes went off everywhere. Three of them failed to clash.
"They didn't even ask why I needed to -- are you quite all right? You're rather... quiet..."
It was possible to see any number of things in the office.
"You weakened the Border," Cadance Mistaked.
This included her own breath.
Rather huffily, with a side order of offense, "The mark-switching spell -- did Twilight tell you all the details regarding that? It did turn out to be rather important -- had some side effects. In my case, I retained a number of things. Such as a certain knowledge of weather magic and techniques. More than my friends happen to believe I possess. Or, according to them, should ever use." With open irritation, "Their collective insistence on keeping me away from all of it is, in my opinion, rather ill-placed. So yes, I weakened the Border, without disabling it or risking shutdown. I could see how it was to be done! ...I asked first, of course. But I could just see it. And since those set to watch the -- mechanisms? -- were unaware of the possibility, while knowing that I was to be allowed my chance..."
The Empire didn't do a lot with weather magic or rather, it did one thing and made sure that kept being done at all times. It meant the buildings lacked a few things. For starters, once you got away from the hot spots, there wasn't much in the way of natural heating systems.
The office was currently somewhat like being next to Luna when the dark mare was in a particularly bad temper. Cadance wondered if that was meant to be inspirational.
The wind rattled a few shutters. Pivot points played a dirge.
"And I did prepare," the unicorn proudly pointed out. "I left WRAPs on the doorsteps of random homes overnight. My entire created stock! ...all fourteen of them. Well, there's only been so much time, you see. But I did include notes on how they could be used for insulation! One of the reasons why clothing evolved! And once they had a true need..."
She paused again.
"The physicians who examined the crystals," Rarity inquired. "Did they say anything regarding the natives having a rather unexpected range of temperature resistance?"
Don't talk.
Don't.
There's some evidence that unborn foals can hear things spoken outside the womb.
My child may emerge as a pegasus. A unicorn. An earth pony. I won't believe 'alicorn' until I see it.
She may also come out and have her first words as every curse in two languages.
"Because," the unicorn made the error of going on, "they fail to notice the hot spots. And they live here. And possibly did so before the Border went up. I do keep hearing them discussing how nicely brisk it is today. I think they actually find it to be a pleasant change --"
"-- the tourists," Cadance said, "are trapped in the hotel. Which means they're not putting any money into the economy."
"I brought cold-weather clothing," Rarity proudly stated. "In the event that the train broke down." And shivered again. "I would have donned it, but the Guards brought me here in something of a hurry."
The alicorn was silent again.
"It's my own design. I think you'd appreciate the styling."
An arctic blast found the one gap in the office window and sluiced through.
"...Cadance?"
This is the one designer Twilight trusts. As a friend.
She saved Luna.
Helped the Empire.
We are at peace with Equestria.
...we'd probably still be at peace if I --
-- citizens would be fine with it --
-- but then Spike would find out, he'd be unhappy, they'd find out he was unhappy and then I'd have trouble.
Cadance smiled, or tried to. Her face felt oddly frozen.
"How did you get hurt?"
"Your pardon?"
"The bandages. You're covered in them."
"Ah." Rarity peered at her own form, as if she'd just noticed the dressings (and lack of dress) for the first time. "Well, I was rather stressed after my go-round with Tanza. Who wouldn't be, really? So I decided to turn yesterday afternoon into a spa session. Only it turns out the Empire doesn't have a proper one yet! But it is possible to improvise. And as your staff has been told to respond when my needs arise..."
Cadance used the next pause to consider some of the options for what was coming next, and got them all wrong.
"I thought that your native mud," Rarity said, "must have a simply amazing mineral content."
The alicorn blinked.
"Mud."
"Yes. Properly softened, heated, and applied. All things which can be done in the palace. Also, your bathtubs are lovely! ...to look at. The inner padding could use some work. And the mineral content is amazing, Cadance! Perfectly relaxing!"
Another pause.
"Until you move," Rarity added.
"Move." 'Mud.' 'Move.' Still better first words than 'Murder.'
"...yes," the unicorn told her. "Because the mineral content is mostly silica. As in 'shards'. Very small, very numerous shards, suspended within the mud. So if somepony pours the mix onto you, it's incredibly relaxing! The... hard part would be getting out. Or breathing too deeply. Or... just about anything in the entire movement family, really." Two more bandages were adjusted. "So there are a few minor flaws. And a number of what effectively worked out to splinters. But they were all removed, I assure you!"
Cadance was silent for a while.
"You may want to filter it prior to export," Rarity suggested. "The Ponyville spa imports unique mud. It could boost the economy."
A rather long while.
"I doubt I would have had the idea to adjust the Border if it hadn't been for that mud bath. Consider the benefits it could provide for so many artists -- Cadance?"
Calmly, "Yes, Rarity?"
"Forgive me, please, if what I say next is... rather personal. Twilight told me in strict confidence, and I have shared it with no others..."
"Yes, Rarity?"
"You -- were born a pegasus, were you not?"
"Yes."
"So you are capable with their magic?"
"Yes."
"You could, in fact, adjust the temperature in this office and thermally seal the room."
"Yes."
"And you have not because...?"
"I don't feel like it."
"...oh."
They both sat for a while. Rarity shivered.
"My first idea was actually to arrange a rain of dust," she admitted. "From the same mud. As staying clean is yet another reason to wear clothing, and we could have started them on wide-brimmed hats. But of course, I'd just been reminded of what most of the dust around here is made of." With open concern, "Cadance, have you considered offering snout masks to the expatriates? Tourists should be fine, as the exposure is rather short-term. But those who stay for years -- the natives are undoubtedly immune, but for the rest -- there is a disease called silicosis --"
Cadance's feathers rustled, and the room slowly began to warm.
"-- I'll tell the doctors."
"Thank you."
"No," Cadance softly said. "Thank you. Because you're the only pony who thought of that."
Because you might have just saved lives.
Because my...
filly?
colt?
...wait. Just... wait.
"It is my pleasure," Rarity replied. "And I apologize for not having mentioned it earlier. The day has been rather hectic."
"Masks or filtering spells," Cadance said. "If they're built into devices, something which can be worn. I'll get somepony started on that immediately. I know there's already things which protect chemists, and Sombra may have made something for himself. Even if we can't find that model and just specialize for silica, we can probably have a trial version ready within three moons."
"More than enough time."
Because pregnancy is eleven and a half.
"Your wounds are clean? No signs of infection?"
"None. Your physicians are capable."
"Do you think you can bring the Border back to full strength?"
"...I think I could see a way to manage it."
"When?"
"...eventually?"
"I'll go with you."
"All right."
"And then you're going home."
"I am not."
"Rarity --"
" -- I still have two days to figure this out!"
And on the last day, three hours before the train was due to leave, the unicorn trotted into her office. Cadance watched as soft blue sorted out the contents of well-packed saddlebags.
"Here," Rarity said, and floated the final answer onto the desk.
Cadance stared.
"Those are --"
"-- goggles, technically," Rarity sighed. "Sunglasses as the base, but attaching with a strap, and -- wider. Enough so that the edges can tilt back and fit against the face. No gaps, nowhere for light to get through. Your artificers are also skilled. I simply had to sketch what I required."
"The lenses," the alicorn observed, "are clear --"
"-- they are also crystal. Your alchemists used the treatment on the outer surface, and it took. It shields, and you can paint it back on every three days. So sunglasses without glare or hue distortion, and tourists will see things in their natural colors. One of the best reasons for coming to the Empire in the first place. And you simply write a law which says that all tourists must wear them while outdoors or in an unprotected space, at all times. The consequence is fines. High enough to be painful."
"I told you," Cadance quickly tried, because a week of insanity couldn't be leading into something this simple, "I've been trying to avoid laws --"
"-- a law," Rarity wearily interrupted, "which does not affect the crystal ponies in any way. Merely tourists and those who already chose to live here. The same as the hot spot warnings, and the eventual filters. Because one cannot legally mandate fashion, and perhaps should not --" the tail twitched "-- but safety regulations are standardized. Do you think it will work?"
Cadance stood up, or almost so. She kept her knees slightly bent, to minimize the height difference, and came around the desk to offer an extended foreleg.
"I'm willing to try."
They pressed hooves.
I think I can understand why Twilight's stayed your friend.
Why she trusts you.
I'm still not sure why she hasn't killed you.
...she said Rainbow was the one they've all considered murdering.
Maybe there was a line. Or, given Twilight, a checklist and strict order of operations.
She nuzzled the mare's forehead anyway. Some things were earned.
"And now I have to pack," Rarity sighed. "I want to reach the train station a little early. Visit the gift shop. I do have an appreciation for gems, and -- that may be my only chance. Until the next time, Princess. Thank you for the opportunity, and -- I apologize for not having reached your hoped-for solution. Regardless, please do keep me updated."
She dropped her foreleg, slowly turned and began to make her way across the carpet.
"Those bandages are fresh," Cadance observed.
"I had them changed," said the unicorn.
"And those are in new places."
The mare paused.
"...yes," she eventually said. "Well, I had to come up with the idea somehow..."
Rarity left the office, with one last stress-shed tail hair drifting to the carpet behind her: something which bore just a touch of dried mud at the very tip. And Cadance watched her as she began to make her way towards the train, the gift shop, and one final chance to take a piece of the Empire home with her.
Or, if the doctors had missed any of the newest splinters, several pieces.
