"Well, ya made ya first mistake. Tavi, the Bearers hate to talk about their Elements. They act like it's some confession they gotta make. So, in the future, don't mention them."
"Well excuse me," Octavia said with sarcasm. "I just didn't know. You don't realize just how confusing this all really is! Not six weeks ago, I was a simple cellist. Now the world seems completely new once again."
Vinyl leaned on the Den's wall. They were speaking in the corner of a small lounge-like room where only a couple of other Assassins roamed about. The blue-haired Assassin was playfully throwing her black mask lightly in the air. While she spoke with a serious tone, her gestures her less grim.
"It'll take awhile before ya can grasp everything," Vinyl told her. "Ya still haven't met Bearer Rarity or the Den Master."
"Den Master?"
"It's the highest rank an Assassin can get without being a Bearer. Every Den has a Master that runs it. This one has an oldie named Whiplash. The man's been running this place for years and years. Hell, he's been here longer than the current members of Harmony."
"Seems like a rank I'll never acquire..."
"I wouldn't say that. It takes some time, but it usually goes to the Bearers to pick 'em. They don't always go for the veterans. I'll tell ya, there's a Den Master in the West Canterlot Den who's not much older than ya."
"How many Dens are there?"
"In Canterlot? Four: East, West, Northern, and South. We used to have seven, but those three got destroyed by the Templar. This is the biggest Den left in Canterlot. The only one bigger than this was the Central Den, but that place collapsed thirty years ago."
"So the Brotherhood used to be bigger?"
"Much bigger. We are in a slide at the moment, but the Templar are too. Recruiting has come to a crawl and our influence is dwindling. Right now, both sides are kinda jus' waiting for the other to make a move. We may hold the majority of Canterlot, but they control all of Cloudsdale. It's like we're all playin' hide n' seek but no one is seeking."
"Then it's a calm before a storm..."
"That's what the Grandbearer thinks too. Simple assassinations have happened and we've been keeping the Order at bay, but history says these things don't last. There's always a day that it all breaks loose."
"Which means I should prepare while I have the time."
"Exactly."
"Octavia! The Bearer of Generosity calls for you!"
Octavia was reading one of the Brotherhood books when this bellowing roared behind her, making her drop the old tome. With an annoyed curse, she bent over to pick up the book, making sure it was undamaged.
"Where is this Bearer?" she asked the Assassin who called for her.
"In the up level quarters," he said. "and she not any "Bearer," she is the Bearer of Generosity."
"I understand."
"You better. You are but Novice, Octavia. You should show all the respect you can. Until you have proven yourself valuable out in the field, you are nothing. You have not even been branded yet."
"Branded?"
"You will find out soon if you are capable. Now go! Do not keep the Bearer waiting."
He bowed and walked off. Octavia growled and shut the book before returning it to its massive shelf. With nothing else to do, she began to walk through the Den to a flight of steps to one of the exits. The Den had three entrances and two were on the street level while one was high up on a tower. There was also a tunnel that connected the Den to another entrance, but it appeared infrequently used.
She reached the exit and instead of opening the door, turned right to a dark hallway. Now, it was only dark because the windows that lined the hallway were shrouded by thick curtains, preventing outsiders from looking in. Other than the lack of light, it was a spotless and almost beautiful corridor.
She reached the end and knocked on the only door. The door swung open quickly to reveal the woman she had met at Lady Finish's banquet. Octavia's fist were tight when she remembered that this woman was the one who framed her for murder. Her face was knotted.
The surprise was also found in the woman. Her face went pale and a frightened expression engulfed her countenance. She made a short, nervous sound and wetted her bright red lips.
"Well met, darling. I uh....I was not expecting you to be....the new recruit."
"Neither was I expecting you to be the one who framed me."
"It was an accident. That man was truly detestable. It would be a crime not to kill him. Oh, let bygones be bygones? Come in, this is my room. I usually sleep with Twilight in the Bearer's Quarters below, but I can only stand so much of all that...musty smell."
Octavia crossed her arms and walked in. The room was not large, but it was spacious enough to be filled with all sorts of fabrics, mannequins, and even a large round mirror. The two windows were uncovered by blinds, letting the rare sun shine in brightly. The many different colored fabrics were even more vibrant in the light.
The Bearer of Generosity was not wearing any Assassin robes. In fact, her clothes were that of seamstress. Her hair was still done to perfection, but all strung back in a ponytail. Small red spectacles rested on her cute nose and her sapphire eyes were filled with loving kindness. Out of everyone Octavia met in the Den, this Bearer did not belong here. She was too refined, too elegant, and too fashionably conscious to be affiliated with the rough Assassins.
There was also another in the room, a small boy with spiky green hair. He was distracted with some cloth and putting pins in a large pincushion. All he wore was a dark purple jacket over a long light green tunic. His tights were the same color as his jacket.
"I never introduced myself," The Bearer started. "I am Rarity, the Bearer of Generosity, this sweet boy is Spike, Twilight's younger brother."
Spike looked up. "Heya! You're the new Assassin?"
"Indeed," Octavia stated. "I thought the Brotherhood did not enlist children?"
"They don't," Spike replied. "I just help around. I'm technically an Assassin, but I'm too young to go out and fight. Don't think I couldn't handle myself though!" he added quickly.
"Yes, Spike is a brave boy. Always loves to help," Rarity giggled. "Now, why I called you is very important. I say it's a tremendous part of joining our ranks. Since you are an Assassin, you need to look the part. Every Brother or Sister needs their very own robes. To look like simple mercenaries or common folk would be a travesty. Which, darling, you are right now."
"I do need new garments," Octavia agreed.
"Understatement of the century. Your hair, your clothes, all horrendous! I don't like saying this, darling, but you look like you ran through Tartarus after being stuck out in the rain."
"Something similar happened," Octavia nodded.
"Well! Let us get to work. Every Assassin needs to be chic, unique, and magnifique! Anything less will not do."
"I never thought the Brotherhood would care so much about fashion," Octavia rolled her eyes.
"They didn't until I was chosen Bearer. You may not believe it, but Twilight was not the first Bearer of the current members of Harmony. That would go to the Bearer of Honesty: Applejack of Ponyville. She did not care about robe regulation or even the need for robes. It was not until I implemented the "Rules of Rarity" that the Brotherhood actually started to care about their appearance. Under Applejack's authority, the Assassins appeared no cleaner than bandit rogues!"
Rarity brought Octavia in front of the mirror and began to measure her limbs with a stick and tape. This was not the first time Octavia was measured in such a way. She had grown used to it when Celestia would make a seamstress prepare a dress for her. So she just did as Rarity wanted and stood in front of the mirror with a disinterested expression.
"You hold several features I only see with those in nobility," Rarity commented. "Do you come from a rich family?"
"Not at all. You should see my mother. She's probably still resting out in the ditches," Octavia said.
"Odd. I mean, before becoming a Bearer, I was a professional seamstress. Most of my customers were noblewomen. The high cheeks, the deep eyes, the gentle chin and the sturdy bodies. You are an elegantly crafted young lady, Octavia. Are you sure you have no Olden Family relatives?"
"Of course not! My appearance is of chance. I know not a rich bone in my body," Octavia became flustered.
"No need to be harsh, darling. Most Assassins, besides Fluttershy and myself, do not hold such features. Fluttershy came from an Olden Family in Cloudsdale and I...well, I have some rich blood in me, but not in my immediate family."
"Being poor does not mean you grow up without beauty, Bearer," Octavia remarked.
"True, absolutely true. Just...Oh forget I said anything."
The Bearer continued to inspect Octavia around every corner of her body. She would mutter something to herself, say "oh Rarity, that doesn't work!" and then continue onto something else. Octavia was starting to feel uncomfortable with the woman. Finally, Rarity took a long step away from her and her eyes glimmered.
"Idea!" she sang.
"Oh, what is it?" Octavia asked worriedly.
"You are a cellist, right?"
"Was one."
"Precisely! One thing I love to do is give each Assassin his or her unique symbol! How about a treble cleft for you? A pink one!"
"I'm not sure..."
"It would match your eyes and darling, pink goes well with a light gray. Trust me, I'm the artist here."
"I guess I will..."
Spike and her began to frantically go about the room, getting fabrics and tools. In the reflection of the mirror, Octavia could see supplies being levitated all across the room. The Bearer's hand was glowing as she guided every object into its specific location.
"You wield magic as well?" Octavia asked, already knowing the obvious answer.
"Yes, but not exactly like Twilight," the Bearer responded. "Our Elements have their differences. Some are better in areas than others, but we do share some similarities."
"With such power, I would believe the Brotherhood would have defeated the Templar years ago."
"You may think that, my dear, but we are not the only ones who wield magic. Although the Order and the Brotherhood are more different than a desert is from an ocean, we are both as large and as intimidating. They wield magic just like us, though their ways of handling it greatly clash with our own methods."
Rarity floated some grey or white fabrics to Octavia's skin, hummed in contemplation and then let them float away again. Octavia was unsure if this was a good thing or not.
"If you have the Elements of Harmony and The Map, what do they have?" she asked, though her mind was still curious about Rarity's actions.
"We have never known the full amount of Artifacts they have in their possession. We do know about one: the Staff of Order. Now, that's what most call it, but Twilight will always refer to its original name: the Bough of Yggdrasil. This staff has wondrous powers that even we do not fully comprehend. The Templar keep it under safe care until they need it, but they seem to dislike using it. I have never seen it in all my years, but I just know they have it. To tell you the truth, if it struck me in the face, I wouldn't recognize it!"
"These Templar seem more formidable with every tale," Octavia mused.
"Indeed. However, it is to be expected when a large group of people are so invested in a single cause. They want to remove Freedom. They believe that humanity can't progress without one overarching government ruling everything."
Octavia raised her brow. "That's not what Starlight Glimmer told me."
"Who?" Rarity looked up at her.
"Starlight Glimmer. She's a Templar I met in the Old Dungeons."
"Never heard of her, but then again, there are always new faces in the Order's ranks."
"She had a magnificent way with words," Octavia continued. "She felt all should be equal. That there would be no rich and no poor. Something along those lines..."
"Are you sure she was Templar?" Rarity questioned. "Never have I heard a Templar say that. They want power, Octavia. They would never lower themselves to common folk. She was just lying, trying to get the poor's favor, darling."
"I would agree, but I know people well enough to see that she wasn't lying in her beliefs. There was such sincerity there, such patient kindness to her. Maybe she does want to help."
Rarity leaned on Octavia. "Foolish talk, darling. You will soon learn just how cruel those rapscallions really are. They kill, murder, and manipulate anything they can to achieve their goals."
"Couldn't the Templar say the same about you?" Octavia deadpanned.
"Of course, but there is an undeniable fact to that. We have the Creed. Just like Harmony, it's what binds us as a Brotherhood to be above murderers and thieving activists. The Creed makes us take responsibility of our actions and makes us keep our blades from innocents. If you break this Creed, you break yourself. Octavia, if you joined us two hundred years ago or so, if you defiled the Creed, you would be executed for your disobedience. Fortunately for you, we are more lenient due to society's softening up to humanism. Though you should still uphold the Creed at all times."
"Every question seems to bring a new fear to mind," Octavia gulped.
"And it's barely the last of them," Rarity chuckled. "Soon these days of your normal perception on the world will vanish. With every Assassin, they change their whole mindset. Becoming an Assassin is like washing away your old self. You will become stronger, more intelligent, and focused. It's like an art, darling. It's taking the steps to becoming something you never thought would be possible. To put it plainly, it's the steps to becoming superhuman."
Octavia did not respond. She had barely been here a day and the loads of information did not have time to sort themselves in her mind. Rarity sang a little tune as she measured her one last time and her supplies darted about the room, one of them hitting little Spike on the head. The Bearer then sighed and removed her spectacles.
"Well, this may take longer than I thought," Rarity sighed. "Here, take this hood and cloak, it will suffice until I have been inspired to perfect your robes. You begin your training tomorrow in the small hours of the morning. As tradition holds, you will be sent alone with the Den Master to wherever he will take you. Be brave, Octavia, it will be your first true day. Expect everything and hold back nothing."
Rarity gave her a long gray cloak with a small hood attached to it. Besides that, she also received a pair of new boots and a red sash to go about her waist. Octavia swung it over her shoulders and looked at herself in the mirror. She certainly did not look the part of an Assassin, but she did look better than how her street clothes fared her.
"Thank you, Bearer," she said. "I do have my doubts about all this still, but I am willing to make a name for myself in the Brotherhood."
"And that attitude is all you need, my dear. The rest will follow."
Octavia then reached back and pulled the hood over her head. The rough material made the back of her neck itchy, but she tried her best to ignore the discomfort. Her appearance instantly became more foreboding. The pink in her eyes seemed to become sharper with the shadows. A mysterious woman am I? The hood seemed to a sinister effect on her being. A shrouding confidence that blocked out the sides of her vision so that she could focus on the goals straight ahead. Her mind could think faster, her senses were heightened. It was like being alone in a room where nothing distracted her and she could spend all her energy on a single purpose.
"I think I like the hood," she finally said.
Rarity giggled. "Everyone says that, darling."
~