Rarity and Spike vs Fantasy RPG Tropes: The Sabre of Omens

by SS Nomad

Chapter 9: The Apex

“What do you mean, ‘your swo-’” Spike started to spit back, but found himself cut off by Rarity, a hoof held in front of him.

There they stood, face to face with… somepony, her two coaches noticing the exchange in the distance and hurrying over with mining picks in their mouths. The caldera of the high peak was warm, heat rising from the stone itself. Rarity slowly let her gaze drift back to the unicorn mare in front of her, the one eyeing her sword with hardly hidden anger.

“The name is Rarity, my dear,” she replied with a tactful smile, years of pleasantries with annoying customers rushing to her in an instant, “And you?”

“Fortune Wheatfield,” she coldly replied, clearly having intended to give her name anyway, “and you’d have known that already if you weren’t just some random passing outsider.”

Spike quietly leaned in to ask Rarity in a hush, “What’s she got up her butt?”

Rarity tsked her tongue at him, replying just as softly, “Where are your manners, dear?”

“Dunno, I’ll look for them when we get back down the mountain,” he snarked.

Turning to the mare, Rarity held the pasted on grin, a cold fire in her stare, “Well, I can’t exactly deny that. Given how much of the region your family owns, I’m sure you have quite the notoriety. I must say, you all are truly lucky that the flooding hasn’t reached your lands yet, hm?”

“I think we both know luck has nothing to do with it,” Fortune replied, a dastardly grin on her cheeks as her tone shifted to one of self-admitting lies, “That’s what happens when you build off the floodplain, isn’t it? Why risk the weather when you can afford to irrigate.”

Spike gave Rarity a quick nudge, nodding to the two henchmen, who had both ceased their work and were returning slowly, heavy iron picks held in their mouths.

With a subtle acknowledging nod, Rarity returned her attention to the mare, “What say we both quit playing games and get to the point here, hm? Your family surely makes enough money that simply flooding out the competition isn’t your aim, so what is?”

Fortune’s laughter was filled with an ominous brightness, as if that line of thought was the best joke she’d heard in years, “I’ve already said that, didn’t I? You brought the sword. Now we can talk.”

The statement caught Rarity a little off guard, glancing back at the sabre in Spike’s arms, “Sorry, darling, afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Give it to me and I end this all,” Fortune replied gently.

Spike chuckled, muttering, “As if she could even do anything with it.”

Rarity… wasn’t so sure, “Depends. Why do you want it?”

“To destroy it,” came the answer, plain and serious as could be.

The sentence lingered in the air as the two stallions made it to their boss’ side, flanking her like bodyguards. Rarity stared them all down, trying to get a read for the mare. Something about her… it was like staring at an outfit with no accessories. It all fit together already, but there were still a few pieces missing.

A little unsure how to proceed, Rarity decided to just try to keep her talking, “So… the whole danger, the flooding… was just to get me here? To force the sabre to look for a hero?”

“The temple keeps it under lock and key until it decides to go save the region,” she elaborates, waving her hoof dismissively, “So I needed a way to get it to come out. Threatening the area was the most obvious approach.”

“And the displaced families are, what,” Spike practically spat out, gesturing at the mare with the sabre, “Acceptable losses for your scheme?”

Fortune turned and smiled at the little dragon, “More like a convenient side benefit. You were right, I’m not doing this for money, but I’m not going to turn down a little profit along the way. I believe you’ll find that all of those families have already been given handsome buyout offers on their land. It should prove very fertile when the waters recede.”

The phrase “Righteous Fury” was not one Rarity had ever really comprehended until now. Sure, certain things made her angry, so she completely understood the last half, but she always felt guilty for being so annoyed when all was said and done. This? Her coat bristled as she stared down the unicorn mare before her.

“Wait,” Spike pondered, recollecting the details of the conversation, “You called this your sword. For real, what’d you mean?”

“It was originally commissioned by my ancestors,” Fortune calmly explained, “Back when my great, great grandmother was the head of the sages. It is, by any reasonable definition, ours.”

Spike stared for a moment before raising a finger, “Ah! Fortune both means wealth and foretold future. Clever, clever. I was wondering why a unicorn family ran a farm.”

“After the… disagreement, we turned to using our skills for profit. You’d be surprised just how quickly you can amass wealth when you can augur your financial decisions,” Fortune snickered in amusement, “Buying land was just a matter of smart investment practices.”

A loud, angry huff drew all attention back to Rarity, “How could you possibl-”

Spike quickly jabbed her in the ribs, whispering, “Hey, I wanna smack ‘em around as much as you do, but hush up. She’s telling us like… everything. Let’s just let her have her evil monologue in peace, it doesn’t look like she’s stalling or anything.”

Rarity glared at Spike for a long moment, but sort of accepted what he was saying. Doesn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

It was Spike’s turn to put on a fake smile, “So, you mentioned a disagreement? What’s that all about.”

With a heavy, derisive snort, Fortune continued, “Times change, years pass, and my family could see that the Temple of Sages was a relic. Though it had its role when it was founded… we live in a new era now. When my family brought it up… we found no agreeing voices. In the end, Dowell and all of his compatriots wouldn’t even allow debate on the need for the Sabre. Damn puritans thinking their way would always be the way… How can we be so backwards as to follow the will of enchanted iron when we live in a century of reason, where the only deic powers we believe in are the ones who walk the land and run our nations? Can we truly compare this blade’s echoes of divination to the undeniable will of the Elements of Harmon-”

An awkward silence hung in the air. The longer it went on, the wider Rarity’s smug grin got. Fortune stood there for what felt like many minutes, gears grinding away, until she slowly looked into Rarity’s eyes. The two stallions, standing bodyguard, seemed all but completely lost.

“You said your name… Was Rarity?” the mare finally managed to ask.

With a light bow of the head, Rarity chimed back, “Rarity of Ponyville, yes.”

Fortune seemed quite tense as she formulated her next few words, “Well… can you say you disagree?”

Rarity managed to resist the urge to disagree purely from spite, but that didn’t stop the facial twitch. Still, when taking the time to think it over… “Why bother? You gain nothing but a chance to snub a group that kicked you out of their little clubhouse. They’re doing no harm to anypony. I see no good reason to erase and deny this region’s history like this.”

Closing her eyes, Fortune took a deep breath, and as she exhaled she was even more determined, “I was afraid you’d say that. That’s why I prepared for it.”

With a swish of her head to the side, the mare lit her horn, the arcane mark her goons had been carving beginning to glow the same color as her phosphorescence. A tremor shot through the ground, spurring an instinctive panic in Rarity. The stone beneath their hooves grew warmer.

“Are you insane?” Spike shouted, gripping the paper within his claws tightly.

Fortune just turned to him with a grin, “You don’t go up against fate without an insurance policy. I’m getting my revenge one way or another.”

“So what, you’ll destroy everything just to make a point?” Rarity shot, “How many innocent lives-”

“You can still stop this,” Fortune called back over the growing rumble, the sound of cracking stone, “Give me the sabre. I can reverse this all.”

Dug out pits in the carved runes cracked and fizzled, holes opening into the limestone caldera cap, heat radiating up from them. The air swirled, earth shaking, heat rising. The two stallions were far less adept than Rarity at holding in their panic, even if they knew they plan their instincts were screaming to flee. Fortune just stood there, head held high, madness in her eyes.

As thin tendrils of magma started to be drawn skyward by the swirling magics, Rarity turned to shout over the noise, “What is this?”

With a cackle, Fortune called back, “I only have one target. I intend to hit it.”

The twisted arcs of molten limestone traced their way slowly upwards to meet at the midpoint of the huge magic circle, coalescing into an orb of magma. Rarity pulled her eyes from it, “You’re crazy. How could you… You just don’t care about anyone else, do you?”

“How big a sphere do you think I’d need to destroy the temple?” Fortune mused, eyes wide with glee, “It’s made of stone, after all… I’ll probably need quite a bit.”

Rarity found herself drawing her blade, holding it just before her, “You disgust me.”

The two guards snapped enough to their senses to stand between the two mares, but they were clearly too intimidated by a furious unicorn with a sword to just go for Rarity. Spike snapped back to look at his travelling partner, just as shocked.

“Rare…” he shook, grabbing her shoulder, “What are you… doing?”

With a deep breath, Rarity sneered back, “Saving everyone in that temple.”

In a flash, Rarity drove the Sabre forward. The guards jumped in the way… but she just held it there, pommel facing Fortune, fury in her eyes. Shaking, she let go of it, leaving it suspended in the air between them.

“You win,” Rarity spat, “Take it.”

They all stood in shock, but none more than Spike, “W- WHAT?! You’re kidding!”

The sphere above them stopped growing, hot stone nearly the size of a house hanging in the air above them, the convection of it nearly baking the occupants of the caldera. As the shock of the act started to pass, Fortune let out a breathy laugh, disbelief in her eyes as she stared at the blade. Her blade. It… worked. The laughing continued, covering her face with a hoof as she held a low chortle, unsure how else to process her victory.

Turning slowly to Spike, Rarity’s face was stern, yet apologetic, “I know. But no artefact is worth dozens of lives.”

Spike wanted to rebut, yet… he turned back to stare up at the orb. Swallowing hard, he started, “We could still-”

“No need,” Rarity cut him off, turning back to glare at Fortune, “As loathe as I am to let her win… It’s over now.”

“You’re right,” Fortune flatly noted, “It’s over. The last remnant, the only remaining relic… The age of adventurers and heroes has ended.”

One of the guards reached forward to grab the sabre out of the air, tugging at the handle fruitlessly. Rarity found herself smirking again. The other tried. It didn’t budge.

“Oh, get out of my way, you idiots,” Fortune pushed them away, lighting her horn and grabbing the sabre by the grip, pulling it back towards herself.

“Wait, what?” Spike called in shock.

Fortune replied with mockery in her voice, “I did tell you this was my family’s sword, no?”

Well… there goes that fun. Rarity closed her eyes and sighed. Still, this was the right choice. Her eyes snapped open as she felt the ground rumble again. She turned to see the sabre floating towards one of the open magma holes, about to take its last bath.

“The spell?” Rarity called, “You’ve stopped it, right?”

“Hm?” Fortune turned back to her, a smug smile, “Oh, that? I changed my mind.”

Rarity locked up. How had she been so stupid.

“Well,” Fortune called to her minions, “Don’t just stand there like dunces, grab them.”

Before the stallions could process the order, Rarity’s horn was lit and her magic wrapped around the hilt of the sabre, grappling with Fortune’s. She tugged it back towards herself, hoping to catch the other mare off guard, but found her grip firm. Fortune was far closer to the sword, far more able to apply her strength. Still… Rarity wasn’t about to give up.

As the two stallions lunged for Rarity and Spike, the magma began to fill upwards into the sphere once more, Fortune’s distraction sending hot globs of stone slamming to the ground as the spell’s containment was tested. A fat slap of liquid limestone slammed to the ground between the two sides, stallions diving backwards to not be burnt alive. The momentary distraction and sudden kick of adrenaline was enough to give Rarity a second wind, giving the sabre a firm tug as she sought to wrest control of it.

Splitting her attention yet further, Fortune flicked her horn skyward again, flaming ropes of magma trailing down to the ground around the group. Just as Rarity thought she had the upper hoof, a loud cry came from the sky, an eagle diving towards her face, talons extended. Rarity dropped her magic in shock, stumbling just clear of the attack, a thin red line left from cheek to nose.

If there’s one thing any polite dragon will deny, it’s their predator instincts. Spike was in a fight for his life now. His pupils narrowed, senses heightened. With a sudden lunge, the chubby little dragon kicked off the ground with force, managing to get cover the distance in a flash and grab the eagle by the leg, taking it to the ground with him.

Rarity stood there in disbelief for a moment, turning back to see that apparently the sudden release of her grip had thrown off Fortune just as much. They only had moments. She was recovering and about to finish the job.

“Spike! Now!” Rarity cried out over the cacophonous rumbling, drawing everyone’s attention.

Dragged back out of instinct and to his senses, Spike turned to face her, confused for just a moment before remembering what he had been holding in his left hand. Shoving the eagle away, he took a deep breath in, feeling that ember deep within him welling, and belched out a gout of flame across the crumpled paper in his claws. Adrenaline rush still slamming his heart in his chest, he turned to Rarity and gave a big thumbs up.

Fortune only registered what Spike was doing after it was already done. She stormed closer to Rarity, dodging a patch of molten marble, bellowing in anger, “What was that, what have you done?”

“We’re ending this story,” Rarity stared back with fiery confidence, “A bit of a classical approach to narrative, but there’s something to be said for traditional methods.”

Fortune stared at her in bewildered rage, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Deus Ex Machina, darling,” Rarity beamed.

With a resounding clap and crackle, a nova of purple electricity burst into a blinding white flash. Standing there among the drippings of the tremendous molten orb, fur and feathers still smoking from overextending her teleport range, a lavender alicorn scanned her surroundings with a cold, calculating fury. Just barely inclining her head to observe the object above her, Twilight Sparkle let out another bright discharge of magic and the whole caldera stood still, color draining from everything but the ponies and dragon within it as time stopped around them.

The Princess of Friendship only had one word to say, the syllables freezing as they cut the air, “Explain.”