Rarity is given notice by Yves St Lariat, her former employer and absent father of her foal that he intends to take her to Court for theft. A grave injustice is at hoof, but Twilight is going to call in a favour. Will she be found innocent or guilty?
Rarity is given notice by Yves St Lariat, her former employer and absent father of her foal, that he intends to take her to Court for theft.
A grave injustice is at hoof, but Twilight is going to call in a favour.
Rarity finished reviewing the new Mother-of-Pearl sales literature and finally put it down with a satisfied smile. She had created the range of stylish foalwear that was taking the new mothers of Equestria by storm, providing them for the first time with an opportunity to dress their fillies in fashions that they themselves would like to be seen wearing. Even the complementing range for colts was so smart that stallions, who were not widely regarded as having much fashion sense, would admire them with a strong sense of pride.
She harboured few regrets for having left behind the high pressure world of haute couture to focus on the new life that gave her a lot more time free to enjoy her sister and her new daughter. In addition, this new venture was proving to be more financially rewarding than she had ever known before, but, true to her generous nature, she found plenty of good causes to share it with.
Rarity was watching contentedly from her chair as Sweetie Belle tickled the pure white tummy of her niece, clearly very happy to be playing with her, when she heard a knock at the door. She rose to answer it, thinking it to be Sweetie Belle’s Crusader friends, eager to take the opportunity to earn their cutie marks in some foalcare related activity, but was instead greeted by the postmare who handed her a letter bearing a Canterlot postmark. The smile was wiped quickly off her muzzle when she saw the YSL logo on the envelope; what could that horrid stallion possibly want now?
She opened the letter and read the few words that had been spared to her. Her mouth fell open and she reeled backwards, reaching out to support herself before reading it again. Sure enough, she hadn’t misread it; the YSL organisation was taking her to Court for infringement of their copyright!
Suddenly it seemed like the whole idyllic lifestyle she had carved out for her foal and herself in the wake of his previous appalling behaviour was going to fall about her ears too. She felt around for a seat and drew it close, placing herself down on it while she considered whether to cry or scream; she was just too numb to even think.
She rocked gently where she sat, thinking about everything she had achieved for herself and the legacy for her daughter, all being dismantled by avaricious teams of greedy lawyers while Yves stood on, watching in that aloof way of his.
Just then she registered another knock at the door. “Surely he’s not come around to start taking things away already?” she said to herself. She opened the door, feeling an irrational surge of trepidation as to who would be waiting outside.
“Hi Rarity!” greeted Twilight happily, her face dropping like an elevator when she saw the look on her friend’s face. The fashionista did not respond, just stayed locked in a faraway stare. “What’s happened, Rarity?” asked Twilight, her tone suddenly serious. Rarity handed her the letter wordlessly. It spoke for itself; jealousy and venom dripping from every word. “Nopony does this to my friend!” she shouted, the anger rising within her, “I’m going to make sure that he doesn’t try and get the better of you again!” “Twilight” shushed Rarity, casting a motherly eye over her shoulder and seeing Pearl jump at the outburst while Sweetie Belle turned to see what was wrong. “I’ve taken down Nightmare Moon, Queen Chrysalis and Lord Tirek, and I am not going to see you have to take this from a jumped up …” she fumbled for words that would not be inappropriate when heard by those of tender years, “ … Clothes horse!” “Twilight, shush please” begged Rarity, composing herself.
“I’ll make him wish he had never been born …” continued Twilight in a quieter voice laden with menace. The fact that she had to restrain herself just made her madder still, and she stood outside to explode where the fillies wouldn’t get hit by the shrapnel. Rarity watched sadly and waited until the immediate fury was spent, although she could see her friend running through plans of the most hideous retribution in her head.
“Twilight, darling” she began, “I want to play fair …” “Fair?” ranted Twilight, “You call what he’s done fair?” “Well, no, no I do not, but I have no desire to step outside of due process. It would never do for the Bearer of the Element of Generosity or any of her friends to use their power to strike down a competitor, now would it?” “OK” Twilight acquiesced, sounding like she was calming down, but still wearing an expression like a volcano about to explode, ”OK. Due process; right. No magic; right. Gotta go, Rarity.” She looked a little perplexed as Twilight gave her a perfunctory hug, then turned and sprang into the sky, heading in the direction of the Castle of Friendship.
“What’s up Rarity?” asked Sweetie Belle inching slowly towards her sister, who was stood in the doorway watching her friend fly off into the distance, shrinking into an ever smaller dot. She continued to stare, transfixed, until long after the dot had disappeared out of her sight, staring forlornly into empty space before peeling her eyes away and turning to meet her little sister’s worried gaze. “Nothing that need concern you” she sighed sadly, suddenly looking much older. “Do you want a fainting couch?” she offered, “I could drag it out here if you needed …” “I’m afraid I’m rather beyond that at the moment” replied Rarity, her head fixed at a quizzical angle while she reflected on the latest turn of events and relented slightly, “I don’t suppose you would be prepared to look after Pearl while I take a little lie down, would you?” “Of course, Rarity” she replied, heading back to take up her foalcare duties, while her sister trudged wearily up the stairs, one leaden hoof in front of the next until she found her bedroom, opened the door and closed it carefully so nopony downstairs could hear, then fell onto the bed sobbing loudly.
Late that afternoon, there came a knock at the door. Pearl started in surprise and raised her head, ears twitching. “It’s OK” said Sweetie Belle reassuringly to the foal, who didn’t understand a word, “I’m on it.” She gave Pearl a stroke on her muzzle and patted her tummy, earning a little whinny of approval, before rising onto her own hooves and crossing to the door. Instantly, her breath was taken away; standing the other side of the door waiting patiently was the most well-known pony in all of Equestria, with flowing blue, lilac and green mane!
Sweetie Belle fumbled with the handle, her magic seeming to reflect her own nervousness in the presence of such a high profile houseguest, who just happened to be waiting respectfully for her to get to grips with opening the door. Eventually, the little bell on a spring just above the door jingled happily as it bounced around, indicating that she had finally been successful. The Princess smiled caringly at the awestruck filly who was curtseying politely while her cheeks turned an obvious shade of crimson.
“Your Majesty …” she garbled out, while behind her, a gentle tap of small hooves announced the arrival of a pure white foal, who had got to her hooves and come over to see whether the new arrival would give her some attention too. “You’re supposed to curtsey” hissed Sweetie Belle to her niece, who was much more interested in a tummy tickle than observing courtly protocol. “It’s quite alright, Sweetie Belle” reassured Celestia, “I have been looking forward to meeting the latest addition to the family and it looks like she’s in very good hooves.” “Th-thank you, Princess Celestia” she stammered, stunned that the Princess should even remember her name let alone give her a compliment!
Celestia reached a forehoof to the foal and gave her neck a tender rub before proceeding to stroke her mane. “Is your sister around, Sweetie Belle?” she enquired, regarding her closely through deceptively placid lilac eyes. “Yes, your Majesty. She’s upstairs having a rest“ came the reply, “You want me to get her? Do you need the Elements of Harmony? Is some evil monster invading? Are we in danger …?” “If you are happy to show me to her room” said Celestia, cutting off the filly’s wide eyed speculation with a maternal smile, “Then I should like to see her alone, if you would allow me?” “Of … of course Princess“ she replied stepping proudly towards the stairs, Pearl remaining steadfastly at the Sun Princess’s side.
Sweetie Belle led the way up two fights of stairs onto the landing from where Rarity’s room was instantly recognisable from the delicately painted name plate on the door. Faint sobs could still be heard from the other side, serving to remove all doubt as to where she was. “She still sounds pretty cut up about something” remarked Sweetie Belle, developing a worried expression. “Would you allow me?” asked Celestia, moving forward and directing Pearl back towards her aunt. She tapped on the door, and wasn’t acknowledged at first, but after she knocked again, heard the crying stop and a forlorn voice reply, “Please Sweetie Belle; I’m not in the mood right now. Please go back and I’ll come down later.” “It’s not your sister, Rarity; it’s me, Celestia” said her visitor in a compassionate voice.
Silence.
Pearl started showing some interest behind Sweetie Belle, who turned to see that Twilight had joined them. She wore a business-like expression that although not overtly angry, suggested strongly that anypony meeting her would be well advised not to challenge her on anything. She leaned down to Sweetie Belle and in the kindest voice she could muster, asked if she wouldn’t mind taking Pearl downstairs for a while.
Sweetie Belle wouldn’t deny she felt a little intimidated, but when Twilight gave her a reassuring smile and suggested the foal could probably use a bottle, she guided her niece down to the kitchen leaving the grown-ups to help Rarity with her problems.
The handle turned and the door opened a crack, a pair of bloodshot blue eyes peering out from behind the door. “Princess Celestia - I’m so sorry … I’m such a mess” she apologised, opening the door more fully, “What can I do to help you?” “Always thinking of others before yourself” sighed Celestia, “I am here with Twilight Sparkle; may we come in please?” “I really am in a terrible mess” she protested weakly. “Understandably so” agreed Celestia, ”But that’s why we’re here. I believe we can help.”
Reluctantly, she drew the door fully open, the light from the landing leaping in uninvited to illuminate the wretched scene of scattered handkerchiefs over every item of furniture in the room. Her muzzle showed trails of mascara highlighted starkly over the pure white of her fur, in a dishevelled look so unlike the perfect grooming she was always so fastidious to display.
The rumpled state of her extravagantly oversized bed bore witness to where she had spent the last few hours and Celestia motioned for her to return, whilst she chose for herself a more subservient position on the floor, respectful of her status as the visitor in her hostess’s bedroom, even though she was arguably the most powerful pony in all of Equestria. “I am so, so sorry you should choose to visit whilst I am looking like … this” she lamented. “Twilight has kindly given me the gist of what’s happened” said Celestia,” And has explained your desire to avoid any, er, physical retribution in favour of defending yourself through the Court.” Rarity nodded, “It’s only right and proper.” “I believe this isn’t the first time this designer has crossed your path” Celestia probed. “Yes. He has never acknowledged his responsibility as Pearl’s father.” A furrow formed on Celestia’s forehead, evidently disapproving of what she was hearing.
“What precisely is the nature of his grievance against you this time?” “Well, whilst I was working for him, I designed a number of new fashion ranges, most of which became so popular, as to have influenced the fashion world to this day. So, when we parted company and I branched off into foalwear, I used the basis of these popular designs as accents to enhance their appeal.” “Perfectly understandable” agreed Celestia.
“But now he says that I stole these ideas from him, because I was working for him when I came up with them, so he is accusing me of stealing what he thinks of as his designs.” “Intellectual property theft can rob a pony of their rightful claim to original work” mused Celestia, “But I think there is a strong case here to show that the work is yours. What we need is a good legal team, and I just so happen to have the best on my payroll at Canterlot to uphold Equestria’s laws in the highest Court in the land.” “But, you preside over that Court” observed Rarity, “You’re not in a position to judge this case, surely?” “No, but I do have a Chief Justice who stands in for me during my absence, so everything would be above board. We are agreed then, my lawyers will represent you.” Rarity opened her mouth to challenge Celestia’s offer, but couldn’t find an argument that didn’t sound churlish, so returned instead a smile and a thank you, the first stirrings of optimism she had felt since opening the letter that morning.
“I have a chariot outside” said Celestia, rising to give Rarity a reassuring hug, “Once you have had a chance to freshen up, let us all go to Canterlot to meet your defence team.” “Oh, but what about Pearl and Sweetie Belle?” she asked. “They will be welcome at Canterlot too; would you please accompany them by train, Twilight” she asked her former student, “If that’s alright with you, Rarity?”
“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.”
