//------------------------------// // Belfrys of Canterlot: Part 3 // Story: Anarchy!!! // by -newt- //------------------------------// Sunset Shimmer’s methods were an enigma until you looked at the world from her perspective. Then, they emerged naturally as the paths of least resistance - the parts of the woods where the brambles were the least thorny and, hey, if wearing a full suit of armor prevented you from getting scratched then so be it. Take, for instance, her sunglasses. Not literally, of course. As Rainbow Dash would eventually find out, Sunset could get scary when she wanted to. And if you told her she was already scary, she’d look you in the eyes and tell you she wasn’t trying yet. It took me years to understand her relationship with her glasses. First of all, they were old and worn to bits. The arms were faded, black chipped away to expose silver beneath. One was held together with “duct tape, no prayer required”. The lenses were opaque in the sunlight, but when angled just right you could make out an extensive network of scratches like the surface of an ice sheet. The corner of the left lens was cracked, though it hadn’t propagated across Sunset’s field of view. Looking at the way she wore them, you got the impression it wouldn’t have mattered if it had. They were one and the same - ragged, resplendent, resilient. She wore them constantly - outdoors, indoors, underwater, while sleeping in an unfamiliar room. If you asked her why, she’d cock her head to one side with a knowing smile; a nonverbal “wouldn’t you like to know.” And I would, very much. Very, very much. Some part of me wanted to believe it was a fashion statement. She was too cool for school, anyways - why not advertise it with her shades? And I’m sure that was part of it. But with the benefit of hindsight, it became obvious why Sunset wore sunglasses. It’s because she didn’t like eye contact. Really didn’t like it. It’s why she never looked you in the eyes unless she wanted to make a point. And even if she wasn’t looking at you at all, the glasses made it feel like she was staring, unabashed and unperturbed. When she finally did lose them - - I’m getting ahead of myself, I apologize. Regardless, it makes it all the more flattering that, for our very first meeting, she chose to forgo them. Perhaps as an apology for knocking me out. As an apology it was, unfortunately, similar to many of mine; sincere, difficult for her, and entirely insufficient for me. Actually, let me rephrase that - entirely incomprehensible to me. It would be the last time I saw her eyes without her sunglasses for many years. Though I understand why I reacted the way I did, I wish I’d taken the time to admire them more. Because, though she has a habit of not believing people when they say it, they are very beautiful. Gleaming like emeralds, with all the mischief of a plunge pool. Go ahead, they seem to say. Dive in. The water’s fine! ~ “You thought I was what?” Though I tried, I was having a hard time keeping the incredulity out of my voice. “Bugged,” Sunset responded, confidently, as if that made any sense. “What does ‘being bugged’ mean, exactly?” I asked as she began fiddling with the ropes that kept me tied to this chair. With how confidently she was undoing the knots, you’d think she had a good reason for this. “Being implanted with a listening spell.” With one final heave, Sunset unshucked me from the nest of ropes. “The Protection Bureau has one of those. Along with a mind control spell, a truth serum, a machine that predicts the future-” “That one sounds fake.” “You know, I wasn’t convinced by that last one either.” Sunset glared at me, hard as steel and cold as ice. “But the rest? I’ve seen them, Twilight. You don’t know what they’re capable of.” That stopped me in my wobbly, blood-recirculating tracks. Sunset was right. I didn’t know what the Protection Bureau - the shady monolith of bureaucrats, middle-managers and secret agents (read: war criminals) - was capable of. Most documents pertaining to their cases were stored underground somewhere in the Yakyakistani mountains (some sort of treaty, last I heard). I hadn’t even known about them until Sunset had told me. I deferred. “I… I know, Sunset. But - it’s been a long morning. And I…” I trail off. It felt embarrassing, as an adult, to admit that I was scared. But what other word was there? Sunset eyed me, then clapped a hoof on my back. “That’s just what high treason is like. Tiring, isn’t it?” I smiled up at her. “It is.” She hugged me, then. And I hugged back. I think it was only then that I registered her as a real person - a tangible being instead of words on a piece of paper, magicked out of the air to plant terribly disloyal thoughts in the mind of someone supposed to be Celestia’s most loyal follower. I buried my face in her shoulder and took in her scent. She smelled of wood smoke and lavender incense - the same type Celestia burned nonstop in her wing. It should have reminded me of the terrible things my Princess had done. It should have told me that, no matter how far I ran, I’d still be in her shadow. Instead, it felt like coming back home. “Can I ask you a favor?” She asked after a while. I sniffled lightly. “Sure.” It had been an emotionally draining day. If she’d asked me to bring down the sun, I would’ve done it. Or tried my best. “Could you disguise me?” ~ Sunset’s sunglasses weren’t the only things that made her look cool and aloof. It was a medley of subconscious signals, most of which wouldn’t be apparent without deep study. Thankfully, after all this time (and all these disguises) I’ve become an expert. Her collar was always up. She never stood - she leaned, either against a wall, an inanimate object, or other people. Her hair was cropped short and spiked up, so at a glance she looked androgynous. Like I said, she never looked you in the eye. But that made her seem even cooler - it was like you weren’t worth her time. For a while after her rise to mainstream prominence, all newspapers carried the same two sets of pictures. One, her official portrait from her time as Celestia’s student. Therein she was precocious as a candle flame - baby fat and a big, beaming smile. Next to it, for some chronological contrast, was the current day picture of her - sunglasses, a scowl, graffiti in the background reading “Truth”, a wildfire incarnate. I’ve always loved that second picture. It was captured guerrilla style by a journalist, and Sunset wasn’t even posed for it. It was widely disseminated as a representative example for well-meaning parents, who could use it to instruct their children not to end up like her. As a result it was up on every Equestrian teenager’s wall for the rest of that fashion cycle. ~ Her first disguise was a simple change in coloration. From yellow and red to dark blue and burnt-orange. “This is nice,” she said when I cast the spell. I had to concur. She now looked like an ocean sunset - subdued but still able to hurt. “Do you know when you’ll be able to cast magic again?” I asked. I’d seen her attempt it at my behest - her horn had sparked, and the backlash had made her grit her teeth. It was rare for someone of her magical prowess to end up in this situation - essentially, even though she had the know how, her horn wasn’t used to channeling magic anymore. Think of it as a dry riverbed - where first the bank could easily keep the water contained, now it had lost its definition and any attempt to flow would cause a spillover. “I don’t know,” Sunset said, softly. “Losing my magic was like losing a limb - but I’ve been there and done that already. I’m not worried.” She channeled her magic again, this time slower, and the sparks were more controlled, frizzing out of the tip of her horn like a birthday candle. “I just have to keep practicing, and I know I’m going to get better.” Her tenacity was admirable, though her trust in my disguise was a little bit concerning. “What if it drops in the middle of something? Maybe something incapacitates me - you won’t have the mana to keep this up. Do you have a backup?” “This cloak.” Sunset grinned, holding up the trusty garment. “It’s gotten me this far.” “I know, but-” “Look.” Sunset said. I stopped. It was her tone of voice - aloof but sincere. Just looking at her, you’d think the thought of sincerity would cause her to gag. But, as in many things, Sunset wasn’t all that she seemed. “We can sit around here and plan out every second of our attack, and wait for something to go wrong. Or, we can trust the plan that’s already in here.” She tapped the side of her head with a hoof. Clunk. “You wrote and rewrote it in the journal so many times that I’m pretty sure I recite it in my sleep. Say it with me - we can do this.” “We can do this,” I repeated. “We can do this. Yeah. We’ve spent months planning. We can do this.” “Of course, we can. Now,” Sunset sat back expectantly. “What have you got for me?” ~ Sunset refused to go within five leagues of Celestia’s being or domicile, which I felt was fair. So, instead, she made her way towards the more upscale neighborhoods. Solarists tended to be wealthy by dint of being more politically palatable. Given that it had taken me months of research to discover as much as I had about Princess Luna, I doubted anyone espousing similar beliefs would be considered anything but a lunatic. ~ Sunset scowled at the poster I’d brought along - trite and overproduced, with a forest of cartoon rainbows and a beaming, grinning sun. ‘Enjoy Celestia’s light!’ It said along the top. ‘Not sanctioned by HRH Celestia or the Equestrian Government’, it said in slightly smaller lettering along the bottom. “This has to be a honeypot. Just try and tell me the Protection Bureau doesn’t have a hoof in this.” “Possibly,” I said. “But I have it on good authority something big is going to go down there today. Besides, Solarist gatherings aren’t as heavily regulated as Lunarist ones. There’s still active laws on the books against those.” Sunset sighed. “Literally against Lunarist gatherings? Or technically?” “Technically. Literally, they’re laws against the formation of paramilitary organizations like the Lunar Liberation Force. But you already know how that can be exploited.” She nodded - she’d heard this story before. “Quickly and easily.” “Okay.” I sucked my gut in - it was broiling with anxiety. “Final recap of the plan. You’re going to the Solarist gathering in Can Neighborhood, hopefully going to figure out what they’re doing, and if it puts a stop to Luna’s return then you’re going to put a stop to it. After that, you’ll be travelling to the Everfree and intercepting Luna upon her arrival.” “And you’ll be staying by Celestia’s side, encouraging her to follow the path of nonviolence and feeding her bad information so she doesn’t think of Luna as much of a threat.” “Correct.” I released the air I’d been holding in my stomach. “That simple, huh?” “Yep.” Sunset popped the ‘p’. “Easiest thing we’ve ever done.” ~ Sunset’s destination was an ominously tall old church, decked in banners the color of the sun. This part of the city, perched on the westernmost flank of the Canterhorn, was the domain of the Can barons. Having made their fortune in canning, they scooped up the last scenic view over Equestria the Canterhorn had to offer - but failed to consider that, being the westernmost side of the mountain, it would regularly receive the high, dry winds coming off the Saddle Arabian Desert far over the horizon. As a result, the place looked like the set of an old western - bone dry and completely abandoned. You could see the heatwaves coming off the cobblestone. Most ponies in this part of town stayed indoors, and those that didn’t made haste to get to their destinations. The clock struck high noon. Sunset wished they’d gone thematic with the place. It could really use some tumbleweeds. Before she entered the church, she turned. The castle dominated the skyline from here, soaring towers speckled with windows like glitter. I was clambering up one of those towers, flanked by guards, ready to present my findings in a personal meeting with the Princess. We didn’t coordinate it. But I like to think we crossed the threshold at the same time. ~ “So, it’s decided.” Sunset said. “Do or die.” “Well,” I coughed. “Ideally, we don’t die.” “Ideally.” I nodded, and she flicked open her sunglasses. With them on, she seemed almost a completely different person - a cool, aloof, rebel-older-sister type. I felt my heart start racing - this was it. “Do, and try not to die.” Sunset grinned a daredevil’s grin, all teeth and no self-preservation. “That’s the best I got.”