The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

by TheMessenger

15. The Marionette

15. The Marionette

The heavy metal gate of the vault was closed and secured behind Rarity, followed by the wooden door to the room as she was led back through the area with the boxes and janitorial supplies, to the stairway, and up to the ground floor. The way through the hall was lit by beams of sunlight passing through the windows. The two mares followed the path down to the room at the very end, the same room Rarity had first met Shim if she was remembering correctly.

If she wasn’t, it was certainly a very similarly furnished room, with a cluttered writing desk against the wall, a large wardrobe to the side, and a bed at least twice and a half the size of the cot from the vault complete with a complementary nightstand beside it. In the center was the red and green shag rug that added a little color to the brown of the floorboards. The lamp on the desk had long since burned out, its fuel spent, but there was plenty of light coming through the room’s sole window.

“You can drop that tray anywhere you like,” the musician instructed with a dismissive wave. “Shim should be here pretty soon to help you get ready. In the mean time, why don’t I grab some food for you while you wait here? Go ahead, take a seat anywhere you’d like. Shim won’t mind.”

Rarity did as she was told, placing the tray of dirty bowls down on the floor before looking between the rug and the mattress. She finally settled on the rug, deciding that the additional comfort wasn’t worth performing a potential faux pas by lying in her host’s own bed, even if she had the permission from Shim’s sister. It may not have been a bed, but the shag rug was still plenty soft and a vast improvement over the hard concrete floor of the vault.

As Rarity was enjoying her new comfy setting, the door reopened, and the musician returned with a basket and a mug. Shim soon followed, carrying a large bowl of water and wearing a set of saddlebags. “Here you are,” said the musician, placing the basket next to Rarity and revealing the several little dinner rolls within. “Go right ahead.”

At the musician’s prompting, Rarity took one of the bread rolls. It was still warm, maybe even fresh out of the oven. She bit into it and released a hum of surprise and satisfaction. There was a slight sweetness to its taste, not overwhelmingly so but enough to add a tantalizing flavor that made her mouth beg for more.

The leftover crusts from last night might as well have been ash, the dried rations sand. A second bite swiftly followed even before Rarity finished swallowing the first. The first roll soon disappeared, and Rarity moved on to the next one. Even after Rarity remembered herself and her manners and forced herself to slow down, eating more like a civilized lady, it did not take long before the plate of bread rolls became a plate of bread crumbs, and Rarity washed down the last mouthful with a sip of cool, creamy milk from the mug, another wonderful surprise.

“Done?” asked the musician. “Then let’s get you ready.”

The two mares worked together to pull out and prepare a collection of combs and brushes from Shim’s bags. “Don’t move,” Shim ordered as she went around and behind Rarity. Rarity winced as the teeth of a comb ran through her hair and ripped through the tangles and matted patches. After some time, Shim switched to a fine bristle brush which she used to straighten and smooth out parts of Rarity’s messy mane before going back to the comb and then moving on to a different style of brush.

A salon styling this most certainly was not. Shim pulled and yanked when a gentler approach would have sufficed, and the way she moved her tools was stiff and left Rarity’s mane uneven, which would then require Shim to go back and repeat a step. As Rarity struggled to follow Shim instruction and remain still, she wondered if the abbess had even an idea of what she was doing. Any attempts to check her reflection in the bowl of water were met with rebuffs and firm requests for stillness. At this point, Rarity was sure she could be doing a better job and was more than willing to take over. It was her own mane after all, and after spending so many years with it, she should and would know best.

As Rarity started to speak, however, getting out no more than a couple of words, the musician held up a hoof and gave out a smile of confidence.

“Don’t worry. Shim knows what she’s doing. Don’t you, Sis?”

Shim huffed as she continued to work. It wasn’t the most encouraging answer, but Rarity decided not to pursue the issue further. At long last, Shim set down her tools and stepped back around to face Rarity’s front side.

“Well, what do you think?” Shim asked the musician.

The musician took some time to answer, tilting her head side to side as she looked over Rarity’s mane. “Eh, it’s better,” she eventually said. “Don’t know if it’s princess quality, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s never seen a brush in her life anymore. Let’s keep going.”

The musician pulled out a small towel of from the saddlebags, not much larger than a standard dishcloth. Rarity watched as the musician plunged the towel into the basin, soaking it before wringing out the excess water. “Hold still for me,” she instructed as she approached Rarity and tossed the wet towel over her face. The sudden cold dampness of the cloth soaking into her coat sent a shiver through Rarity’s body, but before she could protest, she felt hooves press against her face. They scrubbed away, either ignoring or in ignorance of Rarity’s muffled whimpers.

Her cheeks were red by the time the towel was removed, and at the sight of all of the smudges on the once clean cloth, Rarity recoiled. She was well aware that her time on the road hadn’t left her with many opportunities to clean herself, but seeing just how dirty her face had been, how much gunk and grime had accumulated, was still a shock.

The musician took a step back to examine their work. “Well, it’s definitely an improvement,” she said. “Everypony will be able to see her face, and there’s really no mistaking it. We don’t even need the disguise kit.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Shim said with a relieved sigh. “There’s not much of it left.” She clapped her hooves together. “Alright, I’ll head out first and make sure everything’s in order. You make sure she’s still charmed. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the musician grumbled as Shim left. She pulled out her lyre and started to play, filling the room with a bright, cheery melody. Part of Rarity wanted to cover her ears, to shout and scream over the music, but that bout of insanity quickly passed as everything beside the song of the strings was drowned out.

To Rarity’s sudden sadness, the music came to end. The last chord of lyre and the musician’s last sung note echoed throughout the room before it all went still and silent. “Well, that should do it,” the musician said, putting away her instrument. “Come on.”

Rarity was led out of the room and back into the hall. “Where are we going?” she asked as they hurried through the building.

“Just a meeting with some adoring fans and then a quick stroll through town,” answered the musician. “Remember the first night, how all you had to do was stand there and let Shim do all the talking? Well same sort of deal here, only some ponies are probably going to try talking to you, and when they do, you have to act like you’re Princess Shmarity and that you managed to get away from the Squid Wizard through the Great Protector’s divine intervention or something vague like that, and because of how grateful you are to the Great Protector, you’ve decided to devote your life to their will and their order. Actually, now that I’ve said that all out loud, it sounds awfully complicated so if things get too much for you, just leave the talking to Shim and I and just nod when we say so.” She looked over to Rarity. “Still, should be easy enough, right?”

“Um, I—“

“Oh, Sis,” the musician said, cutting Rarity off as she announced Shim’s return. “How’s everything coming along?”

“As well as can be, I suppose,” Shim said. She stood at the door that led to the bank’s front lobby. “The crowd is a bit larger than anticipated, but that shouldn’t be an issue.” She turned to Rarity and reached over to brush a few loose strands out of Rarity’s face. “There, perfect.” Shim turned to the musician. “Well then. Let’s get started.”

An audible hush and the stares of some several ponies were there to greet them as they stepped into the bank’s front lobby. This time, the room was well and packed. Many of the ponies before them wore white robes similar to those Rarity and Shim had on, but there was also a large number without such attire, wearing instead the vests and wide brimmed farm hats and simple dresses Rarity had more typically observed of Horshire’s population along with faces of shock and disbelief as she passed them by. Whispers followed after her as she was led through the room, the crowd moving out of the way as Shim and her approached.

“I told you, look!”

“I can’t believe it.”

“It’s really her!”

They stopped at the stage from the first night, right in front of the donation box, and turned to face the crowd. “Brothers, sisters, ponies of Horshire,” Shim exclaimed, her voice echoing through the room. “I thank you for your patience.” Shim’s head turned from one side of the room to the other as she looked over the crowd. “I see that amongst our congregation, there are those new to us and this house of worship as well as those whom we have not seen in some time.”

The assembly stirred with visible discomfort. Some in the crowd, both with and without robes, appeared to shrink back when the speaker’s gaze seemingly fell upon them. The crowd became still when Shim raised a hoof. “Brothers and sisters, you who have remained faithful to the Great Protector, do not hold any hard feelings toward those who have only now returned to our savior’s grace. Rather, we welcome you who have stumbled in your faith. And to you who have never accepted or known of the Great Protector’s will, who have been brought here because of news of Princess Shmarity’s presence, we welcome you as well and hope that you will not only satisfy your curiosity, for yes, as you can all see the princess is with us and well, but also come to understand of the mighty grace that has brought the princess to us.”

The gathered ponies started to mutter. Many nodded and spoke out in agreement with Shim, with Rarity hearing several exclamations of affirmation, but some, particularly those of the more plainly dressed, sounded and appeared doubtful. There was one stallion of note wearing a dark gray hat and had a similarly colored mustache who had managed to push to the front of the crowd. His skepticism was easily seen in the stare he shot at Rarity, and his dispassionate features slowly morphed into a deepening scowl as Shim’s grandiose speech continued.

“See how powerful the Great Protector is and know their wonderful works. Give praise to they who have rescued the princess from the stronghold of doom. Give praise to they who have bestowed their protection upon this humble town and keeps the enemy from our doorstep. Brothers, sisters, ponies of Horshire, let me hear you give praise!”

“Horse apples!”

Everypony turned to the stallion in the gray hat. He stepped forward and approached the stage. “If you think getting some look-alike to play pretend will get me to join your hokey cult, you’re just as gullible as the rest of the poor saps here,” he exclaimed, gesturing to the robed ponies behind him. At this, many in crowd shook in anger and some even approached the dissenter with their own select words of animosity. The stallion, with his face locked in a glower, showed no signs of being intimated, and some of the other outsiders, encouraged by his daring display, stood up around him in solidarity.

Again Shim raised her hoof, and again the congregation calmed. To her credit, she did not appear perturbed by the stallion’s insolence, her matronly smile unwavering. “Now now, peace, brothers and sisters. A little suspicion is understandable. With all that we have been through, I know how difficult it can be to hope again.”

“That’s not what—“

“But you don’t need to be afraid any longer,” Shim continued on, cutting the stallion off. She took a step toward him. “There is no need for you to continue living in fear. Why deny what is right before your eyes? Or are you so lost to the truth that you willing blind yourself to reality? Or perhaps,” Shim added, her eyes narrowing, “this is envy?”

“Envy? What are you—“

“Yes, envy!” Shim made her way back to the stage and to Rarity’s side. “Envy toward we who no longer live in fear. Envy toward we who know the truth and live in the hope that comes with the truth. Yes, I see an envy so great, so powerful and hateful, it would drive a pony to deprive his neighbors of what hope they possess just so he isn’t the only one living in darkness!”

Shim’s voice shook as she pointed at the stallion who had spoken out. The crowd, rallied by Shim’s exclamation, escalated from whispers and mutters to shouts and angry jeers. Most of the stallion’s supporters melted into the mob, hiding away and leaving him to fend for himself as the angry worshippers drew closer and grew louder. His face started to turn red and his mustache bristled as his collected countenance collapsed. He stepped up to Shim and Rarity, inciting several gasps and cries.

“Horse apples, all of it!” he snarled. “I’m just not stupid enough to fall for your tricks. You say that’s Princess Shmarity?” The stallion jabbed a hoof in Rarity’s direction. “Then tell me, ‘Princess,’ where in the palace is the captain of royal guard’s quarters located?“ He turned to Shim and sneered. “See, I had an uncle who worked at the castle. Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?”

The ends of the abbess’s lips twitched. “That’s enough. We will allow no further disrespect toward the princess. Have you no shame? She has already been through so much already, far more than any of us can hope to imagine, and now you dare question—“

“Captain Gleaming Shield’s main living quarters are in the west turret, overlooking the training barracks of the royal knights, though there are offices in each of the palace’s towers that can accommodate the captain so that she can focus her attention on whichever section requires her most.”

Everypony turned to the pony who had spoken, their eyes wide and several with their jaws dropped. Rarity herself blinked a number of times in surprise when she realized that the answer had come from her. She brought a hoof to the lips that had moved on their own as the images of some regal structure faded from her mind. Where had her answer come from? How was she seeing this palace she had no memory of visiting and why did it feel so familiar? Rarity turned to Shim for instructions, but the mare in white and gold appeared just as confused.

A chuckle rang through the room. “Well, how about it?” Rarity heard the musician say. “Is she the real deal or not?”

The shade of red on the stallion’s features darkened to something closer to purple. His mouth was constantly opening and closing as the others around him demanded either confirmation or contradiction, but no words were formed out of his sputters. He spun around and rushed through the crowd, pushing his way past ponies until he reached the building’s exit. The silence that followed the slam of the door lasted until the stallion’s gray hat, thrown off and abandoned in his haste to escape, drifted to the ground, after which the assembly exploded into complete and utter chaos. Over Shim’s cries for order, the crowd rushed forward to Rarity, bombarding her with questions and a variety of declarations.

“Princess! Over here! Look here, please!”

“Where’s the army? Do we still have an army?”

“I can’t believe. The princess, she’s actually here!”

“What about the heroes that were rumored? Are they here too?”

“I really like your mane!”

“Praise be! Did you see the Great Protector when you were saved?”

“How did you escape?”

The crush of ponies got closer and closer, forcing Rarity to back up until she was against the wall. Shim stepped between her and the approaching crowd. “That’s enough!” she somehow managed to shout over the noise. She swept her glare across the initial line before her and caused some to back away. “Is this how we of the Great Protector should be treating such an esteemed guest? Is this how you want to represent Horshire to Her Highness? Surely not!” Shim turned to the musician standing off to the side and gave her a nod before returning to the audience. “Calm yourselves, brothers and sisters. There will be time for you to show your adoration, but only if you remain calm and civil. See here, you are only stressing the princess out with this disorderly behavior and, please, quiet down! Listen to me!”

As Shim fought to restore peace to the room, her voice ringing over the crowd’s competing protests, Rarity was grabbed by the musician and dragged away. Some ponies tried to follow, but the unorganized crowded and noisy environment prevented them from getting too close. The two made their escape back through the door behind the counters.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?” the musician said cheerfully as she brought Rarity back into Shim’s room. “Nice bit of improvising out there. Way to call that heckler’s bluff.” She snorted. “Bet he feels real stupid.”

Rarity smiled. It was always nice to receive a friendly compliment, but before she could thank her, the door was flung open and in stepped Shim looking flustered. Strands of mane were sticking out of her bun, and she was breathing heavily, as if she had sprinted all the way here, while her robes had become rumpled and messy. Her face was flushed, though from her glare it was difficult to know for sure whether it was out of physical activity, anger, or embarrassment.

“I thought I told you to make sure she was under control,” Shim hissed at the musician who frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“She is.” The musician looked to Rarity and said, “Go sit on the bed. Okay, now throw me the pillow.”

The cushion landed directly into the musician’s grasp. “See?”

“Then what was that about?” Shim asked, jabbing a hoof at the door. “Why did she answer that stallion?”

The musician tapped at her chin, hummed then shrugged. “I don’t see the problem. I told her to act like the princess, and she played that role perfectly. Shot that loudmouth down like a true champion. I mean, come on Sis. You have to admit the look on his stupid face was amazing.”

“It was a risk that could have ruined everything!” Shim all but roared. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I had it all under control. It wouldn’t have mattered whether that heckler was telling the truth or not, but if he had, her outburst would have been all he needed to expose us.”

“But he wasn’t, and it all paid off in the end, and look!” the musician argued. “That got the crowd moving faster than we’ve ever managed before. You should be out there accepting donations, not standing around and getting upset because for once in our lives we got lucky. Come on, tell me, how much coin did we already make today?”

“I, don’t know, I left one of our more loyal followers to deal with collections so we could deal with this,” Shim said, rubbing her forehead. “Look, we can’t afford to rely on luck. We need a plan, and we need to stick to it. Or have you forgotten what happened last time, during our short stay in Candelkeep?”

“Hey! It’s not my fault I didn’t know the head monk had an irrational fear of clocks. Nopony could have—“

A knock at the door shut the musician up, and before anypony could respond, the door opened to reveal a young mare on the other side. She wore the white robes of their order, though hers were more plain than the ones Rarity and Shim had on, and had her long, burgundy mane braided together. “Um, pardon me, M-Mother Shim,” she said barely louder than a whisper. “But, um.”

“What is it, Sister Patsy?” Shim demanded, her impatient tone causing the mare to shrink. “I thought I was clear that I was not to be disturbed. Did you at least handle the situation outside?”

“Oh yes,” the mare answered with an eager nod before adding a less confident, “I think. Everypony is going home now. Um, is that alright?”

“Yes, yes. That’s fine,” Shim said hurriedly. “Now is that everything or was there something else?”

The timid mare tapped her hooves together. “Actually, we were hoping...” She stepped to the side, allowing Shim, the musician, and Rarity to see the additional four or five robed ponies behind her. “We were hoping to see the princess. Just for a little bit, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The other ponies nodded. Some tried to peek over to catch a glimpse of Rarity, and those who succeeded announced their achievement in excited whispers. Shim looked to the musician who just gave a nonchalant shrug. With a frustrated sigh, Shim turned back to the group of ponies waiting in anticipation.

“Very well. But!” she added, emphasizing with a raised hoof. “Mind your manners. Remember, every one of us here is a representative of the Great Protector, so do act accordingly.”

It was too late. Shim’s disciplining fell on deaf ears as Rarity was swarmed by the group and was swept away in a second torrent of inquiries and acclimations. Even the shy sister who initiated this encounter added to the din, her voice growing as loud as the rest, and all Rarity could do was try to smile, nod, and thank her audience for being here.

Eventually, Shim called an end to the meeting and ordered her acolytes away, telling them to go home and to come again tomorrow if they wanted to see the princess. “Princess Shmarity is still recovering from her journey,” she had explained. “The Great Protector’s power is great, but the princess still need her rest. And do remember to tell your family and neighbors what you have seen today,” Shim added as the last of her followers reluctantly shuffled out.

They waited a couple of minutes, then once they confirmed that the hall was empty, Shim and the musician instructed Rarity to follow and brought her again through the door to the stairway. They descended, making their way through the dark storage area and past the locked doors before returning to the vault beneath the bank’s floorboards. Burgo Masters had gotten up and gone over to watch from the barred window as they approached. The gate was opened, and after a quick command from the musician, Rarity stepped inside.

For some time, she just stood there in the center of the cell, wearing a smile of contentment on her face as she enjoyed the feeling that came with doing a good job. Eventually, that small smile rotated into a massive frown, and any sense of happiness gave way to darker emotions as she angrily spun around, ready to shout, chastise, lecture, or maybe just scream at the ponies who had used her so. By the time Rarity had turned around, however, Shim and that damnable magical musician were already gone.

The gate had long since been locked and secured, but Rarity pushed at it anyways, letting out her ineffectual frustrations with an anguished growl. Unsurprisingly, the gate didn’t even rattle, and Rarity was left drained and out of breath.

“You, uh, know it swings inward, right?”

“Yes! Thank you!” Rarity snapped, before taking deep breath. “Ahem, yes. Pardon me.” She stepped away from the door and sat down on the cot.

“So, what happened?” Burgo Masters asked as he approached.

Rarity started to describe what had occurred during her brief time outside. She recalled the crowded lobby, the large gathering, the mix of cultists with nonbelievers, and Shim’s sermon. However, when she got to the parts involving the stallion with the supposed uncle from the castle, Rarity omitted mention of her odd reply, she herself not understanding what had happened then, and simply framed it instead as Shim twisting the poor pony’s reasoning until the whole crowd turned against him and turned to chaos.

“Do you suppose there any chance that stallion was telling the truth?” Rarity questioned Burgo once her story had concluded. The mayor had been quiet during the recount and now appeared to be lost in thought.

“What, you mean old Grays?” Burgo snorted. “He’ll have you believe he’s got a relative in every town of Spiketopia and in just about every position or job just short of the really public ones. I mean, sure, sometimes he really does have an uncle or a cousin or a something-in-law who really is a big shot adventurer or researcher or whatever, he comes from a huge family you see, but more often than not it’s just an entertaining tall tale. It would’ve been nice if Grays had managed to trip them up, but Shim’s a crafty one.” He shook his head. “So it’s exactly as we thought, huh? They’re making the town think they’ve got the princess in her pocket.” The stallion winced. “Ooh boy.”

It was certainly not the most reassuring reaction for her to be receiving. “Do you think they’ll find any success?” Rarity asked. “I know I saw a few skeptics today along with, Grays was it? Surely enough of your fellow ponies will have the guile to see through this and keep the town from falling further into their influence.”

“Oh, I’d like to think so,” Burgo said, running a hoof through his already messy mane, “but honestly? I’m not too sure. Horshire hasn’t had a lot to celebrate since the old trade route shut down, and now Shim comes along heralding the return of Princess Shmarity? Yeah, her whole message of hope and junk through some all powerful protector just got a whole lot more attractive now that she’s got actual ‘proof,’ and, well, have you looked in a mirror?” Burgo gestured at Rarity’s face. “If I didn’t know better, you could’ve fooled me, and it’s not like anypony in town actually knows the princess and can prove you’re not her.”

The mayor of Horshire sighed and slumped against the wall. The vault went silent as both he and Rarity sat with their thoughts, with one particular thought that they unknowingly shared being the most prominent:

We need to get out of here.

The question, of course, was how. Rarity ran through her list of possible escape means and found it lacking. She had a few options, yes, but they were all completely reliant on the folly of her oppressors or either dangerous and utterly distasteful, such as attacking the backs of Shim and the musician with the blades in her pocket, or dangerous and utterly insane, like, say, trying to invoke the magic of some strange and powerful and maybe not entirely benevolent being without having any idea as to how to control it.

One would think that with the disturbing number of times Rarity had been made a prisoner and then gotten free, she would have had an easier time coming up with a way to escape, but there were no simpleminded guards here for her to bully into submission or to have wrapped around her hoof (and it was extremely odd to be on the other end of the puppet strings), no friends on the outside planning a daring rescue, and no magical alicorn princess battling for her freedom. The closest analogy she had to the situation she was in now was the time she spent in Starlight Glimmer’s, during her misguided Cutie Mark hating phase, village, but it wasn’t like a peace-loving pegasus who had already demonstrated sympathy to the enemy cause was around to pretend to switch sides.

With her thoughts exhausted and the sound of her own mental deliberations becoming tiresome, Rarity finally broke the silence. “So how did this all start?” she asked.

Burgo Masters looked up. “How did what start? You mean the...”

“The cult, yes. Even if Shim is as good a speaker as you say she is, I’m having some trouble imagining how she and her sister managed to gather such a following to begin with,” said Rarity. “What did they have to offer? Maybe there’s something in their past methods we can use to our advantage.”

It was a play right out of Twilight Sparkle’s book, looking into past history for the answers to present problems, and an eyewitness to the event was just as good as a book on the subject.

“I suppose it can’t hurt to try and explain,” said the stallion. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting to find, but maybe you’ll get something I missed. Let’s see now, where to begin, where to begin?” Rarity watched as Burgo Masters scratched his chin through that bush of a beard.

“It was a little while after Bakersfield was wiped off the map, and we were dealing with that second wave of refugees. A lot of the towns neighboring Bakersfield were being abandoned at that time, ponies afraid that their homes would be next. I’m sure you saw what was left of them on the way here, you coming from the east and all. Still bit of a shock that there are still some ponies out in that direction.” He shook his head. “Anyways, we were just glad to get some traffic and some coin into town, what with the bulk of the merchants scared off the main road, but we were all worried about what would happen to Horshire once they left. There was even some talk among the townsfolk of leaving themselves. Well, around that time, Shim and her bard sister showed up.”

Burgo went on to explain how instead of leaving with the rest of the refugees, the two mares settled down and filled a couple of gaping holes in the community. The musician provided some much needed distraction with her craft, and for the first time since news of the capital’s fall the tavern had evenings full of patrons and laughter. Shim, meanwhile, became the town’s alternate healer whenever the first was too busy with patching up militia members. Over time, more and more ponies went to Shim first until eventually she became the primary healer while the old physician took up the role of the militia’s medic full time. That was around when rumors started spreading about Shim being able to perform miracles.

“What do you mean, miracles?” Rarity asked. “Can Shim use magic as well or was it all just hyperbole?”

“Hyper, what?”

“Exaggeration.”

“Oh. Well, it’s honestly kind of hard to say,” Burgo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “By all accounts, Shim’s a good enough healer, and I can chalk some of the rumors up to her patients over-exaggerating, but then there were reports of strange things happening during her treatments, like flickering lights or Shim’s eyes suddenly glowing and her voice deepening. I also remember a lot of her followers claiming that the ground shook when she first started giving sermons, but I’ve never actually seen it myself.”

Burgo shrugged before continuing. “It wasn’t a big deal at the time. We’ve got no problem with magic or magic users, had plenty of adventuring mages come through Horshire on their way to Baldursgait without any issue, and Shim wasn’t hurting anypony. Even when she started telling ponies about this new deity of hers called the Great Protector and how her healing came from them and all that junk, I didn’t see a problem as long as she kept my town healthy.”

“Really? You didn’t think there was anything strange about what was being said?”

Again, the stallion struggled. “Strange, sure, but in the end ponies were being taken care of. I didn’t think there was any harm in telling ponies they had a powerful and divine guardian that had a plan to get through these troubling times, and after everything the town’s been through, some of us really could’ve used an encouraging message like that.

“Anyways, word spread. Ponies starting going to Shim for more than just medical problems, and soon Shim started preaching her message publicly. We didn’t have any problems until she started telling everypony that the only reason Horshire was still standing was because of the Great Protector.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course that angered a bunch of ponies, especially those from the older families, as you can imagine, and I had to step in as the mayor to mediate. That gave them the opportunity to put me under that charm spell of theirs and they’ve had free run of the town ever since.”

Burgo sighed and slumped against the wall, seemingly exhausted from having to relive the events of the his tale. Before Rarity could make sure if he was alright, however, the door to the room opened, and in came Shim and the musician carrying between them a bundle of blankets and another tray with some bread and a pair of bowls. The vault’s gate was unlocked, and enough room was made to slide the bundle and the tray in before the metal door was shut once more.

This time, Rarity made sure to grab a bowl before Burgo went and devoured both portions. She was about to follow in Burgo’s suit and start digging in, albeit less messily and with more care, when she noticed that neither Shim nor the musician had made any move to leave. She placed the bowl back down and stared back past the metal bars at the two mares.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before Rarity finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, are we waiting for something?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” Shim assured. “Don’t mind us. Go on, eat while it’s still warm.”

When Rarity did no such thing and simply continued to sit and stare, the two turned and looked to each other before turning back to Rarity. “Yes, well,” Shim said, clearing her throat as she returned the small frown on her face to her original smile. “We were planning on waiting for you to finish your meal before discussing business, out of courtesy, but I suppose we could always start now, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Is that right? How very considerate of you,” Rarity said, her voiced dulled by her true feelings on the matter. “But yes, I think it would be best to deal with whatever business we still have first. I’d rather have my meal in peace.” She gave Shim a rueful smile. “You understand, I’m sure.”

The only reaction Rarity got was some slightly movements in the ends of Shim’s smile, but it was a reaction regardless, and Rarity let herself enjoy the small victory. “Now, would this business happen to do with our little discussion from earlier today?” she asked, keeping her momentum rolling. “The one regarding my refusal to join your sleazy little operation?”

The musician snickered. “Ooh, look out, Sis. She’s a smart one.”

Shim ignored the musician and instead got up to look into the vault. “You should know, miss, we have rooms available. Furnished rooms, with windows and beds. Real beds, nothing like what you have in here.” She nodded at the small, cramped cot in the corner. “You can confirm with Mr. Mayor if you’d like, he knows we can keep our, assets comfortable. As long as they don’t cause us any trouble, of course,” Shim added, turning briefly to Burgo Masters who tore himself from his food long enough to look up and scowl.

“And am I right to assume that you are offering one of these rooms in return for my cooperation?” Rarity asked, an eyebrow partially raised.

“That, in addition to some other perks. I told you, with our help, you could very well live in comfort,” Shim declared. “It would be in both of our best interests for you to work with us willingly. Oh yes, we could certainly just keep putting you under a charm, but that would be just so tiresome, and what would you get out of it? Think about it.” Shim leaned forward, pressing her hooves against the bars. “We could get a room and bed prepared for you before bedtime.”

For a good few seconds, Rarity said nothing. Then: “Really? Is that it? A personal living space and some vague mentions of luxury?” Rarity smirked. “If that’s truly the best you have to give, it’s no wonder you can’t get anypony to do anything without resorting to trickery.”

The smile on Shim’s face faded. Her eyes started to narrow, and for a moment, Rarity wondered if she had overstepped. She kept her worries hidden behind an mask of indifference, however, as Shim sighed and shook her head.

“Ah well. Perhaps a little more time in here might help make you more agreeable.” The robed mare knocked on the vault’s exterior wall. “I know you’re an intelligent mare, miss, so do try to think of what you could gain by working with us as partners, as well as what you could possibly hope to achieve by struggling against us.”

Shim got up and with a smile and a bow, she and the musician started toward the room’s exit. As she reached the door, Shim paused to look over her shoulder. “Tomorrow will be another busy day, so get some sleep.”

*

A routine was soon established as the days passed, with each day starting with Rarity awakening and getting up whenever it was no longer comfortable just lying about. Burgo would either already be up or would be up in ten or so minutes, after which the two would spend the time talking. Usually, they would brainstorm and present any ideas of escape that came to mind, many of which were ridiculous and infeasible, but sometimes Burgo would tell stories about Horshire during its height or Rarity would describe how the weather was the previous day or the ponies she had met. These conversations were more of a means to stave off boredom than to achieve anything really, though there had been a couple of proposals they did build and expanded upon afterwards.

On most days soon after, perhaps just over an hour or so by Rarity’s best estimate, Shim and her sister would show, acting all friendly and such before the musician would bring out her lyre and start to perform. On occasion, once she had finished playing, she and Shim would leave the room, and Rarity and Burgo would have the rest of the day to themselves until it was time to go to sleep. Those days, they went to bed hungry, without having anything to eat all day, and Rarity’s supply of travel rations was quickly exhausted.

More often than not, however, that encounter would end with Rarity following Shim and the musician out per their request, and they would bring her up to Shim’s room for food and some cleaning up. Then, usually after a second private concert, Rarity would be brought to a cheering crowd that seemed to grow each time she saw it. Sometimes, she would simply stand by Shim’s side as the mare preached and just help with the collecting of donations at the end. Sometimes, Rarity herself would speak to the congregation, following the script Shim would have provided her as she told the ponies gathered before her of the tribulations she faced before the Great Protector rescued her. Rarity would pepper these tales with vivid details from events she did not recognize but could recall with eerie clarity, and Shim would eventually stop becoming upset over her going off script once she saw how awed and vulnerable the additions left the audience.

Some days, instead of speaking to a lobby full of worshipers, they would leave the repurposed bank and instead walk the streets of Horshire. Out there, Rarity would see other ponies, ponies who had never stepped inside the Great Protector’s temple, and she would watch their countenance twist in confusion and disbelief as Shim would speak out about her deity and about Rarity’s deliverance. There were times where, again, Rarity herself would speak to the doubter, and sometimes, the pony’s expression would turn to one of acceptance.

That had been the case with Ms. Innskeeper the innkeeper, and a couple of days later, Rarity saw her standing with the rest of the crowd in the front lobby, wearing those white robes.

They would never be out for long, no longer than an hour at most, after which Rarity would be returned to the vault, and she and Burgo Masters would have to try to amuse themselves with more of the same from the morning until supper, of which Shim and the musician would come down to provide. The requests for Rarity to join the sisters continued to be made, and occasionally the offer would be extended to Burgo, though the frequency of these requests soon dropped as their answer and stubbornness became predictable.

And so it would continue as days went by, blurring together until long before Rarity even knew it, she had lost track of time. Her desperation and impatience grew with every moment she wasted away in Horshire, but with her options limited, she was forced to wait and keep an eye out for the golden opportunity, as Burgo had described it, to arise. Part of her so very much wanted to do away all this waiting, but reason and caution won out in the end. It would do Spike and Discord no good if she was injured in their attempt to escape, and with how finite the resources she had to work with were, Rarity had little margin for failure.

So Rarity waited and endured the role of Shim’s puppet, looking for something to exploit as they paraded her around like a trophy. Then, one day after the conclusion of the sermon, Rarity noticed that a large number of ponies still lingered in the lobby, and a group stopped them just as they were about to go through the door.

“Mother Shim, Your Highness,” one of the ponies, the mare with the braided reddish mane, Sister Patsy was her name, Rarity believed, greeted with a respectful bow that the others with her imitated to which Shim responded in kind. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been talk that the Provenance Festival will still be happening!”

“Ah, is that right? And that’s the celebration for?”

“The founding of Horshire, of course,” the mare said excitedly. She was bouncing from hoof to hoof, and her grin was so wide, the tips of her mouth were approaching her ears. “With all that’s been going on, we weren’t sure we’d have one this year, but now everypony’s putting up the decorations and talking about setting up booths, and it’s all thanks to the Great Protector!”

The others had nodded in agreement as Patsy continued, saying, “We, we were hoping, if it were all possible, if Her Highness could be there that day to say a few words to the town. I mean, I don’t want to presume, but she will be there, won’t she?”

“Well, we’ll have to see. The princess and I do have a strict schedule to keep, and when is this festival exactly?”

“Could be as early as the end of this week, least that’s what I’ve heard,” one of ponies behind Patsy had declared.

“Ah. Yes, I’m afraid with so little time to prepare, we won’t be able to—“

“Hold on,” the musician interjected. “This festival, is it a big one?”

Patsy nodded. “Oh yes, it might be the biggest holiday in Horshire. Everypony will be out there that day.”

“Everypony, eh? Then I don’t see why we can’t make an appearance,” the musician said before Shim sent the ponies away and took the musician and Rarity into the building.

The two sisters argued along the way. There was a contrast in their personalities, Rarity had noted, that often led to arguments like this, in which the musician would call for something daring while Shim would demand caution. They were still going on about the risks of having Rarity out in such a noisy and chaotic environment versus the reward of reaching a larger audience by the time they had reached the vault on the floor below.

When Burgo inquired about their heated discussion, Rarity had told him about the upcoming festival and of the request made of her.

“Is it that time already? Hm.” The stallion leaned back and stroked his beard. “They’re really going ahead with the Provenance Festival, eh? And without me?” he grumbled. “If the destruction of the nation’s capital and everything else wasn’t going to cancel the holiday, you’d think the mysterious disappearance of their beloved mayor would have at least.”

“Then I take this is indeed a big event?” asked Rarity.

Burgo nodded. “Oh yeah. Huge. It’s a whole day thing, full of games and food and, well, it’s a festival. You know how they are. We’d even draw ponies from the neighboring towns, and we’d even get some traveling performers, though I guess that probably won’t be happening this year, the main road being how it is,” he said, his wistful expression visible even in the dark.

“Still, the whole town will be out, that much I guarantee,” he continued. “And it sounds like they want you to make a speech. Yeah, they were probably talking about the opener, when somepony, usually either the mayor or some big important guest, kicks things off. Hm, I wonder...”

The two shared a look. It was time. Their golden opportunity was finally arriving.