//------------------------------// // 3 Justice Served // Story: A Dish Best Served Cold // by Bronyxy //------------------------------// “So, to sum up” announced the sharp suited lawyer in the packed courtroom, “It is quite clear that the designs being sold under Ms Rarity’s Mother-of-Pearl banner are nothing but scaled down copies of designs from fashion ranges produced by my client; a clear case of industrial plagiarism, or, not to put too fine a point on it, theft.” He strutted round the floor, pointing to half a dozen mannequins dressed in the YSL branded clothes with similar looking foal sized versions being displayed on smaller mannequins immediately beside them. This had been the central theme of his argument throughout the case, the close resemblance between the designs being all but inescapable. “And the sad fact is that this attention seeking fashion designer wannabe, Ms Rarity, saw her only hope of keeping herself in the public eye was by blatantly stealing my client’s designs in a display that has been nothing short of shameful” the lawyer went on, watching the smug self-satisfied grin grow across the muzzle of his client, Yves St Lariat. “Now, we can all respect the great deeds performed by the Element Bearers in saving Equestria so many times, and we are led to believe that Ms Rarity played her part in such acts of bravery rather than standing back and letting others do the work for her. However, we must keep stories of her alleged heroism from our minds as we focus on her desperate attempts to cling to popularity by resorting to such underhoof tricks as stealing from her benevolent employer, who only hired her in the first place out of the spirit of his own generosity.” “Hey, that’s not true …!” a rasping voice was heard soaring above the rising hubbub that suddenly rose within the courtroom before being cut off abruptly by the orange hoof from a farm pony next to her. The judge looked sternly towards the cyan pegasus in the crowd from whom this outburst had come and the orange pony beside her, who returned a forced smile that seemed to say this won’t happen again … The prosecutor’s strategy to undermine Rarity’s worthiness to be the Bearer of the Element of Generosity coupled with his attempt to make his client appear to be the more generous of the two reverberated around all those present. Rarity felt dirty having such references thrown up in her face, but had been coached by her legal team not to rise to the bait, so she sat impassively, picturing in her mind’s eye the prospect of bucking this lawyers face in just the same way as Big Mac would buck a tree during harvest. Repeatedly and with great enthusiasm. “This law is here in order to protect honest, hardworking ponies like my client, who through no fault of his own, finds his work stolen, when he is the one who should rightly and justly be receiving the reward. We move to demand for every bit of profit gained by Ms Rarity from her shameless plagiarism, plus all legal expenses, plus a fine of the Court’s discretion to prevent others from trying the same reprehensible tricks in future. The prosecution rests its case.” Rarity’s eyes grew wide at the thought of how many bits the prosecutor was demanding, but her own lawyer patted her foreleg reassuringly and shook his head. The defence lawyer rose to his hooves as the prosecutor resumed his seat, giving Yves a less than discrete hoofbump as he sat down. “My Lord, Mares and Gentlecolts” began the defence lawyer, taking centre stage, “What we have heard is a shocking misrepresentation of Ms Rarity’s personality; a character assassination, no less. Her success as a designer and entrepreneur in the fashion industry before meeting Mr Lariat is a matter of record, and the fact that he singled her out to support his fashion empire only serves to highlight that he has no particular flair for fashion himself. Indeed, Ms Rarity is but the latest in a string of aspiring designers to have their ideas ruthlessly sucked from them before he discarded them, spent, with the threat of recrimination should they attempt to resume their rightful places in the fashion world. No; Mr Lariat is a parasite, surviving only by the efforts of others. Does he have a distinctive look? No, of course not, because the look he sells changes according to who designs for him at any given time. The gossip pages are full of what he has done, but such claims have been relegated to the realms of unsubstantiated tittle-tattle. Until today that is.” Suddenly, the prosecutor and his client looked at each other, a hint of doubt flashing between them. “Whilst I appreciate this is a little unconventional, two last minute depositions have been received, and I beg leave for you to hear from two other established fashion designers who have requested to address the Court; Mr Karl Lagerflank and Mr Jean Paul Haltier.” A buzz of excitement rippled through the ponies present as the judge nodded his assent and the Court Crier repeated their names to the benches outside the courtroom. Then the first of these celebrated style icons strode in stiffly, a jet black stallion wearing his trademark dark glasses with his luxuriant silver mane tied in a black ribbon. He stopped before the judge and stood to attention, smartly clicking his forehooves together before removing his glasses in his magic and folding them into a case around his neck. He nodded to the judge, stating his name in heavily accented Germanic tones as Karl Lagerflank. He proceeded to give an affidavit stating how Yves St Lariat had become known amongst his peers for his brutal techniques in stealing the best that emerging talent had to offer and casting them aside before moving on to the next starstruck student. He expressed his disgust in this ruthless strategy, which had left these young designers so disillusioned that they left the business once he had finished with them, denying a pool of talent to the industry. Once he had completed his damning presentation, he was followed by the much more flamboyant Jean Paul Haltier with his distinctive close cropped mane, who essentially repeated the same message, but in his flowing French prose, confirming that the industry had grown heartily sick of his antics. As the defence lawyer continued his summing up, Yves St Lariat realised that his reputation had been demolished; everypony in the courtroom knew it. At the end of summing up, the plaintiff and the defendant both stood with their lawyers to hear the judge’s verdict. They would all be surprised. The judge cleared his throat and prepared to deliver his verdict, the expectant hush in the courtroom broken only by the whirring of automatic cameras. “In the case of Mr Yves St Lariat vs Ms Rarity, I find for the plaintiff” he announced, shocked looks exchanged among the two legal teams amid gasps of surprise from everypony in the courtroom, “The small print on the contract signed by the defendant, Ms Rarity did in fact sign over the rights to her work to the plaintiff, Mr Yves St Lariat and that cannot be argued.” Somepony in the courtroom was heard to shout “No!” before an orange hoof from a nearby farm pony stopped any further outburst, but her lone voice was in keeping with murmurs of agreement from all others present. “I hereby award damages to Mr Lariat for breach of contract, and defamation of his good character to the sum of one half bit. In addition I will not be awarding costs for legal fees.” The defence team was jubilant, and slowly the ponies gathered in the courtroom caught on. The half bit had gone out of circulation hundreds of years ago and as such now only existed in obscure legal reference; it was no longer worth anything at all. “What just happened?” asked Rarity, turning to her lawyer. “The judge had been faced with no choice but to find for YSL because of the small print in the contract, but he awarded the absolute minimum possible in terms of damages. In fact you may want to settle your account with a whole bit; that would double what the judge determined you owe, and it would make you look generous into the bargain …” She giggled happily before the judge struck his gavel to restore order and turned to face her with a stern expression on his face. Silence fell once more. “Ms Rarity, you have been found guilty by this Court. Let this be a lesson to you for your actions. Further, let me warn you that should any further breaches of your contract with the plaintiff be brought to this Court’s attention, then you will be treated just as harshly in future” he said, finally allowing his face to drop from one of rigid impartiality that he had worn throughout the proceedings to shoot her a smile, “Court adjourned!” Hats were thrown into the air as Rarity grabbed her lawyer and danced happily in little circles while Yves St Lariat stared into oblivion. He was finished and he knew it. Five friends surged through the crowd, all wearing wide smiles, one demure primrose yellow pegasus with tear streaks down her muzzle. A rainbow maned pegasus caught the eye of the now disgraced Yves St Lariat and glared threateningly back at him calling out, “Take that – slave driver!” “Oh don’t waste your time with Mister meanie-meanie pants" came a voice beside her, bouncing happily and ushering her along to meet their friend. “You were so brave” said Fluttershy, “I know I couldn’t have done what you did …” “Knocked him clean out of the orchard” came a country accented voice. “Yes, yes she did” they all heard the instantly recognisable soft tones of a beloved white alicorn and fell into respectful silence. “Princess Celestia!” squeaked Rarity, “Have you been here all the time?” “I have been able to follow the proceedings, but not make my presence known” she confided, “I trust you are happy with the result?” “Yes, thank you Princess Celestia” replied the dressmaker, “I owe you.” “For the times you have saved Equestria” giggled Celestia, “I think you can have this one.” Rarity snuggled up close and gave her a grateful hug. “But while you are celebrating, remember you did lose the case and have actually been convicted” warned Celestia, “Treat Mr Lariat with respect and dignity. He will be bitter for a while, at least until he finds a new path, but there is time for him to reform. Don’t forget he is still Pearl’s father and as such your paths are destined to cross again. I suspect that when they do, he will feel more inclined to take a positive view towards his responsibilities if he’s not embarrassed further during his fall from grace.” “Thank you Princess” said Rarity, looking back up into her friendly lilac eyes, “Thank you for everything.”