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The Sun & the Rose

by soulpillar

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Armour & rooftops

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"Cecilia, you owe me for this."

A leather boot, firmly strapped with a metal shin-guard, hit soil as Gareth stepped out into the courtyard.

He fixed his visor, pressing the slit as closely to his eyes as it could. Immediately, the pungent sting of heavily perfumed fabrics, stolen from Cecilia's drawers, burnt his nose. That smell of rosewater was painful, but it would have to do for now, especially since his old lavender petals were nothing more than dead leaves now.

Truth be told, he didn't need the rest of his armour. The hauberk dug on his shoulders after a while and, with ponies being so short, his spaulders were more for show than function. Yet, ramshackle as it was, he felt naked without it. Hell, he didn't even bring any weapons along. Except his dagger. He wasn't throwing away his fucking dagger.

"Small creature, where are you?" He shouted in Equestrian, trying to block out how ludicrous it sounded.

Then, as if answering, the Rat appeared, poking out the side of a tree. It chittered, excitedly waving him, waving him, over.

Gareth glanced down at his failed barrel trap. Peering inside told him that, no, it was no more successful than his last visit. Bloody super-smart vermin. He leaned down, picked up the discarded plank and then thrust it at the Rat.

The Rat squeaked in shock, a tiny claw pushing the tip away. Another thrust and it bounced away, fur bristling.

Gareth growled, throwing the plank to the ground. "Then how are you going to direct me, huh? Do you think I'm going to hold you in my hand, or on a leash? God's truth, a rat on a leash," he palmed his visor.

Suddenly, the Rat perked up, pink nose twitching in the air. The wind blew its whiskers as its expressive eyes glanced about. A moment later, a broad grin swept across its snout.

Then it turned around and darted off.

"Oh for—" Gareth's hands balled into fists. "Get back here, you little shit!"

Chinking metal filled the air as he launched into a sprint, glancing left and right. A rodent-shaped figure darted out the corner of his eyes. He dug in his heels, shifting direction and sprinted after it, a swear word accompanying each heaving breath.

They were getting close to the edge of the courtyard, a cliff that overlooked the horizon. Equestrian houses and buildings stretched out, all towards the gates of Canterlot. The blue sky was quickly turning orange, the setting sun beginning to fall over distant mountaintops. Gareth hoped that, in addition to speech, Equestrian rats couldn't add 'flight' to their list of talents.

Claws chinked up hollow metal. The Rat climbing up one of the castle's drainpipes. With a quick leap, it scrambled up onto the groundskeeper's clay-tiled shed and then turned back, waving at him… and seemingly urging to follow.

It wanted him to follow across rooftops.

Gareth's armour felt like lead. His metal gauntlet was rigid, meant to protect against sword swipes, unsuited to climbing. His hauberk's weight would fatigue him, and his shin guards restrained his feet. Then there was his helmet; each breath needed to be sucked through strips of cloth, and every movement had to be calculated through a narrow slit in his visor. This was suicide.

"A-another way?" Gareth mumbled, nervously gesturing to the castle.

The Rat huffed in the negative, placing its claws akimbo. It beckoned him forward once more.

Gareth sucked in a breath, looking up and down the shed. Equestrian roofs were short enough to climb up, but the castle was on a cliff-face… and it was a long way down.

He walked forward, hooking his hands onto the gutters and heaving himself up. Metal clicked and rattled over his body, groaning as he rolled up onto the roof.

A skitter of claws; the Rat was already moving. It scampered along a generously sized stone ledge, circling the outside of the castle. Gareth frowned in thought: perhaps it was for pegasi?

The Rat stopped, looking over its shoulder, waiting for him to follow.

Gareth bit his lip, willing himself not to look down. He pressed his back up against the castle's exterior wall and slowly shimmied after it. With each step, his hands found something to hold onto in a vice grip.

It was a very, very long way down.


With a grunt, Gareth lept off the side, armour clattering down with him. The building's sharply angled roof groaned as he slowly stood back up. The Rat darted out the corner of his eye, jumping onto another rooftop.

He followed carefully, watching his boots as he walked to the edge. The cobblestone streets were abandoned. Just like in the book. Equestria's ponies were busy sleeping the night away.

The other rooftop was a good two yards away. Not an impossible jump, but enough to give him pause. A few handholds were immediately obvious, a loose tile to avoid, a foothold… yeah, he could make it.

Backing up a few steps, Gareth rushed forward; he jumped.

He landed, boots cracking onto tiles. His gut lurched; the tiles began to slide! Both arms flicked out, waving, trying to maintain balance.

A few seconds later, they stopped. Nervously, he stepped forward, huffing, holding a palm to his pounding chest. Goddamn it, Cecilia owed him for this. He shook his head, got his wind back, then began to move forward once more, keeping one eye on his path and the other on that damned Rat.

Dim city lights streaked by as he jumped from building to building. The streets weren't truly abandoned, though. Occasionally there would be some pony out on business, but rarely alone. A more frequent sight was the guards, standing in pairs (or more) by some building of presumable worth. A few of them glanced up at the racket he was making, running and jumping between rooftops. None of them really seemed to notice him, or if they did, quickly decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Slowly, the quality of roofs began to improve. The elaborate buildings and exorbitant paints were unmistakable; the Rat was leading him to the Noble's district. A forest of pointed rooftops, crawling all the way to the side of Canterlot's mountain.

He had only been there once or twice, following Cecilia on some errand. Not many ponies paid much attention when he was in her shadow, and the nobles especially so. Hopefully, the night's shadow would be just as effective.


This noble's roof was long and angular. At the rat's urging, he lay flat, and crawled up the side. When just at the top, he peeked over the ridge.

A column of chained up prisoners, both earth and unicorn ponies, clopped in lockstep through a stone street. Four squads of hard-faced Royal Guards led them forward, each one standing at one of the four corners. Gareth frowned; there had to be at least two hundred prisoners down there. Even chained up, there was no way that twenty guards were keeping them in check for long.

They were walking towards the gates of a mansion, a big one. Probably one of the biggest in the district. Gareth make the connection at first, but it was beginning to make sense. Only someone with lots of links to the Guard could have done this. A noble slotted in perfectly.

Suddenly, the column came to a stop. The streets became eerily silent.

Wait… none of the guards had wings.

The guards suddenly turned around, staring for a moment. Then frowns became smiles. They walked forward, unlocking cuffs and pulling off chains. A relieved murmur rose up from the prisoners, grinning and rubbing their raw forelegs.

"G'evening to you all." A pony in a top hat stepped through the mansion's gates. Gareth recognised the scars: Mr. Larms, Styre's father. He was in the hallway after Gareth's… introduction to the Diamond Dog ambassador.

Larms launched into a warm, fatherly speech. He smiled, pacing in front of them. The accent was nearly impenetrable, but words like 'Celestia', 'resist' and 'justice' were unmistakable. He walked over to one of the prisoners in the front, pulling him into a hug. They shared a sharp laugh as Larms turned him around to face the others, a foreleg still sitting on the prisoner's shoulder.

Gareth squinted, glancing over the white coat, blonde mane and sharp, tapered eyes. Flash Bang, the one that liked conjuring thunder. The armour normally concealed their true colours, but the eyes were unmistakable. That was the first pony Gareth had ever met… it was also his first encounter with magic.

He didn't like it.

A squeak came from Gareth's left. The Rat had an urgent expression on its face, beckoning him to follow with one claw while pressing a digit up to its lips. Just over its shoulder, he could see a path to an open window into Larm's mansion.

As much as he was loath to admit it, the Rat was right. Even in armour, there was no way Gareth was going to win with those kind of odds. He needed to find those papers, and he needed to get out of here. Still, at least he felt a bit better about breaking and entering now.

Gareth turned and slid down, following the Rat across the rooftop.

The Rat rushed along a gutter. It stopped at the edge, peering over its shoulder, grinning as Gareth stepped up next to it.

The side of the Mansion had plenty of windowsills. If he had some rope and a hook, Gareth could probably climb up the side. Not that he'd want to climb up to where the window was. Even now, it loomed above him, separated by an alley below. That was a three yard distance, diagonally too.

Gareth peered over the edge. He immediately wished he hadn't. That was a twenty-foot drop. Short buildings or no, Gareth would lucky if the only thing he broke was his legs.

The Rat chittered, gesturing to the other side. It almost seemed like it was telling him to—

"Jump?" Gareth growled. "Are you serious? I could never make a jump like that, especially not in armour. Look, isn't there any other way that I can get up there—" he blinked, throwing his arms up. "And now I'M talking to the rat, that's just great!"

With another squeak, the Rat gave him an incredulous expression before shrugging and stepping back. It fell down to all fours, backside wriggling, then sprinted forward.

Claws dug into his boots and rushed up his legs. The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stood up.

It was climbing him. THE FUCKING RAT WAS CLIMBING UP— Gareth suppressed a scream as he twisted about. The Rat just kept climbing.

Then a flinging squeak filled the night air. Gareth glanced down at his gloves. Did he throw it off? He didn't feel it on him anymore, maybe it was gone.

A hushed squeak came from the Mansion. The Rat, sitting atop the open windowsill cheerfully waved at him.

Gareth clenched his fists. Great, well, at least he hadn't killed it. Of course, now the real trick was, getting across without killing himself. He glanced down again.

A guard walked down the alley. Her face was red, swaying slightly. Drunk. Great, she probably wasn't going to look up, but getting in from the ground floor was going to be impossible with all these ponies around.

He needed to jump. An unpleasant lump formed in Gareth's throat. He knew that Cecilia was relying on him, but God…

Spotting a likely handhold, Gareth backed up. He clenched his fists, testing the flex. One slip, and that guard won't be the only making a mess on the pavement.

Another insistent squeak. Gareth sighed; he was just putting it off at this point. Alright, now or never.

Gareth sprinted forward; he jumped.

His gauntlet caught the windowsill and—

Bricks slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He let go.

Gareth's gut plummeted as he fell back. His hands scrambled for the windowsill, they slipped, then he started flailing for anything at all. He was falling.

He stopped, dangling from one hand, holding a gutter in a vice grip. Sweat trickled down his brow and soaked his gloves. With a groan, he tried to pull himself up. He couldn't. His armour was too heavy, his arms too tired. This was a mistake; he knew that from the start. This was it…

A shrill squeak came from above. Cloth thudded against Gareth's helmet. The Rat looked down at him from the windowsill, dragging out a long, black curtain. What was it doing?

Reaching up with a shaking hand, Gareth grabbed the curtain with all the strength he could muster. It held. Planting his feet into wall, he slowly pulled himself up, arms burning all the while.

The curtain was just beginning to give way as Gareth thudded his heaving chest onto the windowsill. He scrambled over, legs flailing in the air as he collapsing to the wooden floor in a chinking heap.

He was alive. The Rat hopped onto Gareth's gasping chest, tilting its head in worry. He was too tired to care. A metal gauntlet carefully wrapped around it and deposited it on the floor.

He was alive…


Gareth stayed like that for a few minutes, just getting his breath back. He was in a study of some kind. For a noble's mansion, it was surprisingly humble. No gold or silver on the desk, cabinets or bookshelves, just fine wood furnishing and a shaggy rug.

The Rat skittered about the study, running up cabinet legs and checking through drawers. Every now and again, it stopped and sniffed. Gareth could understand the confusion; there was a thick smell of grain alcohol in the air, even with the open window. Whisky filled one of the cabinets, clearly visible through glass doors.

With a groan, Gareth crawled to his feet.

The heavy wood desk was sparsely covered; quills, an ink well, another bottle… and a familiar stack of notes. Gareth's heart skipped a beat. He walked over, picking them up. The looping text was familiar. He flicked through the pages… yes, he could see Cecilia's handwriting. This had to be it; now to make sure.

"Rat, over here," Gareth beckoned with an index finger.

The Rat stopped, standing on its hind legs for a moment before smiling and bounding over. It scrambled up onto the desk, eagerly tugging the top of the papers to its snout. After a few moments, it squeaked again, eagerly nodding.

Gareth rubbed his shoulder and breathed a relieved sigh. That was that, it was over. Well, he suspected that this study belonged to Larms, now he just needed to make sure of it. A glance down at the tabletop gave him his answer. There was a framed portrait of Larms, a unicorn mare and two colts that looked like a younger Styre. Wait, Styre had a brother? He never mentioned anything about that.

Gareth delicately picked it up. The family portrait was a sketch, and the hatching-style looked naggingly familiar. They stood in front of a simple townhouse. All of them were smiling, especially Larms. He bundled up his wife and sons in his forelegs. The burn scars weren't there. One of the boys was frowning glumly, while the other poked his tongue out. The mare was… well, she was beautiful, for a pony at least. There was a cutie mark of a constellation clearly displayed on her flank.

Wait, this style… yes, this was Cecilia's work. It was hard to tell at first; the style was amateurish. Even the sketches in the Castle of the two Sisters looked better. If that was the case, then Cecilia had probably known Larms for a very long time.


Another squeak, the Rat had run to a door, urging him to follow. Papers in hand, Gareth was tempted to just ignore it and find another way out. Yet, he'd never have gotten this far without it…

Rolling up the papers, he tapped them into a cylindrical scroll protector on his belt. Gareth walked around the desk and to the door.

Suddenly, the Rat threw up both claws, stopped him. It pressed an ear up against the door, urging him to the do the same.

Gareth frowned, tapping on his helmet. There was no way he could hear anything through—

Voices came from just outside the door. Hooves clopped against floorboards, keys jingled. Gareth held perfectly still. He quickly realised that couldn't hear anything from the ponies in courtyard anymore.

The door swung open. Larms and Flash Bang stood on the otherside. Larm's chuckling stopped, his forehoof frozen on doorknob, while Flash Bang simply stood agape.

For three seconds, none of them moved.

That was all the time Gareth needed. Snatching up a stool from his right, he brought it down on Larm's head with a violent roar. Wood splintered in all directions, and Larms went down like a groaning sack of bricks.

Flash Bang's horn crackled with lighting, eyes narrowing. A spell rolled up his—

The door slammed in his face with a wooden 'thunk'.

"Not today," Gareth grunted, grabbing the doorknob and pulling back. The door felt heavier this time, then he noticed the sparking, white horn wedged through it. Ah.

Grabbing the door's edge with both hands, Flash Bang's barely conscious, moaning body dragged along with it. His eyelids fluttered, glancing up at Gareth, mindlessly pawing at the door. Gareth almost felt a pang of guilt. Almost.

The Rat bounded forward, and this time Gareth joined him, stepping over the knocked out ponies.


Wherever they were going, they were running out of time. And mansion.

Gareth puffed, keeping his breath regulated as best he could. The mansion's halls were beautiful, marble statues of trees and apples, landscape paintings and portraits lining the walls while luxurious carpets covered the floor. It was a shame then, that it was also filled with guards that wanted his blood.

The Rat stopped at a 'T' junction, ushering Gareth to stand behind it. They peered around the corner. A guard at the other end of the hall was staring right at him.

Gareth whipped back, standing ramrod still. A confused greeting came down the hall. A few hoofsteps wandered towards him. Tense seconds passed as Gareth's heart hammered in his chest. Then, the hoofsteps started again, this time walking away.

Gareth gave a shuddering sigh, that wasn't the first time a pony 'swore he saw something'. It was only a matter of time until one spotted him, Larms woke up, or both.

The Rat tugged on his pant leg, pointing down the other hall. It was a dead-end; the portrait of a proud-looking earth pony stared ahead.

"That way?"

A nod. Gareth returned it.

Glancing over his shoulder, Gareth walked down the hall, stopping at the portrait. The rat sniffed at the golden frame. He'd never looted a place before, but he'd heard stories of there being secret passages hidden behind statues and pictures. Perhaps this was the same. Grabbing either end of the frame, Gareth lifted it off the hook.

"Aha!"

A bare wall stared back. Gareth frowned, standing the portrait on the adjacent wall. Huh, well, maybe there was something else—

"Squeak!" The Rat gestured to something above Gareth's head. A brick was slightly ajar from the rest of the wall. Frowning, Gareth reached up and pressed it in.

The sound of sliding stone echoed down the corridor as the wall began to sink into the ground. A thin, golden light peaked over the top, and as the stone fully pulled away, revealed what it belonged to: a mirror. It was different to the one in the Castle of the Two Sisters. Instead of an oval, it was rectangular, and instead of a shimmering pool for a surface, glassy fragments hung in a golden void, reflecting the contents of the hall.

The Rat, hesitantly this time, crept forward, sniffing at the corners of the mirror. Finally, it nodded, pointing inside.

"Through here?"

It nodded again, edging away from the mirror.

"You're not coming?"

The Rat shook its head, fearfully glancing away.

Gareth's eyes widened. If it wasn't coming, then if… whatever it was pointing him towards wasn't immediately apparent, he'd be lost. Or worse. Like it or not, he needed that Rat's help.

He struggled to find the words. He could instil courage in a man, that was easy: just appeal to their honour, or patriotism… but to a Rat?

"Listen…I'm scared too. Please, Celestia needs your help."

The Rat didn't look at him.

"No, then," Gareth muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "Listen, I— I just," words failed him. He knew what to say in English, how to inspire a human, but he just couldn't think—

'Problem,' Butter Pie's words rushed back. Gareth brushed a hand across his chest. 'Solution.'

He thought about what failure meant. If he didn't get Cecilia these papers, if he couldn't help her, if she failed because of him. That failure… was agonising. So then he took that agony and for once, allowed it to show through.

Gently reaching down, Gareth cupped the Rat in his hands and held it up. It squeaked in fear at first, especially when Gareth stood, but when it looked through his visor, it seemed to calm.

"Please," Gareth's voice was soft, earnest. "Help me."

The Rat stared. There was fear there, just like his own. He could understand that. What was on the other side could kill them both.

Slowly, it crawled out of his hands, then up his arm. Gareth could feel it moving, but he willed himself to remain still. Its weight felt like a hot coal against his body. He steeled himself for the bite to come, for it to dig underneath his clothes and savage him, to spread the plague, to spread death.

But the bite never came. It nestled itself on his shoulder, softly squeaking, urging him forward. Gareth began to sweat. This was… extremely uncomfortable. Even if he could only barely feel its claws through his hauberk. Yet, as the seconds went by, he found it to be… easier, lighter.

Straightening his back, Gareth stepped through the mirror.

Next Chapter: Chapter 12: Splinters & dreams Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 15 Minutes
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