The Crystal Guard standing in the two unicorns’ way doesn’t look like much: a bit on the scrawny side, constantly shifting as though uncomfortable in his armor, and his spear wavers between the two as though he can’t figure out which is the greater threat. Yet he has conviction in his eyes, a firm set to his muzzle, and a commanding tone to his voice. “By the order of Emperor Spike, you are under arrest!”

“We don’t have time for this.” Lunaris glances backward toward the main road, where any second now the bulk of the guards will round, and then back to the lone guard. “Let us pass and you will not be injured.”

The guard grimaces. His stance lowers as he steadies the sharpened tip at Lunaris.

Rarity pops open the potion, doing her best not to sniff the viscous fluid. It takes several seconds to force down, tasting of pipevine and maple syrup and something thicker than water she tries not to place. After the last swallow she feels no different, leaving her wondering what the effects are, if any.

With one smooth motion the Prince slides an ornate rapier from the long, thin bag at his side. The golden metal shines like the sun, with glints of platinum runes along the slender edge. It hangs in his golden aura, point facing down and toward the guard. “This,” Lunaris explains with no lack of reverence, “is Gilded Graze. The merest prick from it will-”

The guard roars, charging with his spear leveled at the stallion.

The master duelist ripostes the attack as casually as Rarity would flick her tail at an annoying fly. The guard crumples to his hooves, gasping in pain and clutching at one foreleg. Rarity’s eyes widen; she barely saw the restrained blow that hobbled him, and never knew a pony other than Celestia to maneuver a weapon with such haste.

“You tried to catch me monologuing!” Lunaris laughs, but there is no derision in his tone. “Well done! Most would have waited for me to finish. Now, don’t get me wrong, I dislike being deprived of the opportunity, but-”

“Lunaris!” Rarity shouts from the other end of the street as guards stream in from the front of the store. She doesn’t remember taking as many steps as it would have needed to get there. “Hurry!”

The crown Prince snaps the fallen guard a hasty salute - his every motion faster than Rarity would have guessed - and gallops toward her. The guards, hot on his hocks, fall behind like they are standing still.

Rarity suddenly gets the effect of the potion and the boots Lunaris tapped together: for every two steps she takes, she moves forward as if she had taken three. It brings no more strain to her muscles, no extra lengthening of her stride, yet the distance closes as though her legs were as long as Celestia’s. She laughs, galloping alongside her companion as though this was the Running of the Leaves and not a reckless race through the roads.

They pass between another pair of crystal covered buildings, each street closer to their destination than before. Shouts from their pursuers spur nearby guards into action as civilians hustle out of their way, their advantage in speed partially negated. Rarity dances away from any attempting to intercept her as easily as her sire danced around her when she was a filly; she briefly wonders what his hoofball competitions would have been like if these substances were legal, though in all fairness (if utilizing magical boosts to one’s abilities can be construed as ‘fair’) it wouldn’t make much of a difference, as every player would chug one of these ‘sow pots’ before every game.

That ‘fairness’ that might be present in sports doesn’t help the guards chasing them. Neither does Gilded Graze, swishing and twirling in Lunaris’ golden aura like a dancing dervish. The spears in the guard’s mouths are too unwieldy to snare the sword, especially at a gallop, much less prevent him from carving an uppercase ‘B’ into each of their breastplates. She’s thankful he isn’t doing anything more to them, just dragging them along like a foal with a kite. Yet it feels like taunting when he pauses so they can nearly catch up, then takes off at a pace they cannot hope to match. She knows it’s to keep the sword closer to himself, it’s easier and more maneuverable that way, but it’s not making him any friends.

They round another corner, all the crystal buildings blending together in their shining splendor, and ending up staring at the towering walls of the stadium.

And standing outside, five armored Storm Minions with heavy metal shields and weighted nets.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Lunaris quips as the two dozen Crystal Guards form ranks behind them. Their shouts ring out, largely ignored. He withdraws his second rapier, a deep cobalt that leaves shadows in its trail, and holds it to Rarity.

It’s the same rapier she dueled him with during the Grand Galloping Gala, Ward Pierce. It’s not as versatile a weapon as Gilded Graze, the golden weapon imbued with every offensive enchantment possible - light as a feather, perfectly balanced, slim enough to slip inside an opponent's defenses, and with a sharpness that can be spread along the edge or concentrated in the point to where merely dropping the rapier will pierce through solid stone. The second activation turns the lightest graze into a gaping wound, exsanguinating the hardiest of creatures in a matter of seconds. She has heard of that ability being deployed against dragons, their heavily armored scales only serving to slow them down. She hopes to never see it in action.

Ward Pierce, by comparison, is much clumsier, but it excels where Gilded Graze would struggle: against magical barriers. When activated, the Apathy magic nullifies any magic thrown its way except for a carefully sculpted area with which to hold. Any barriers it touches are dispelled, the same with any ongoing effects, the breaking of the spell sending a feedback pulse to the caster. It is the bane of many a unicorn; she knows Shining Armor has practiced against it, to his regret (and Blueblood’s, to the unicorn’s credit) when it sent him reeling to the floor after shattering a single shield.

The bag at Lunaris’ side has a magic of its own, the ability to recall the swords last placed inside. It would certainly help should one of their swords get tangled in the Storm Minions’ nets. She doesn’t look forward to running away from them, especially when they try to snare her. Unless her scanning magic is wrong (and she is never wrong), the shields of the guards will deflect any magical projectiles sent their way. Now, the physical swords in their auras will fare better against them, and the Apathy of Ward Pierce might cause a backlash if it connects with the shields, but that could easily go either direction, as there is more shield than there is sword.

She takes Ward Pierce in her cornflower blue aura, the light fading to almost nothing everywhere except the hilt. She holds it warily, a body length from herself, tilting it this way and that as she refamiliarizes herself with the weapon.

He asks, a challenge in his voice, “How many could you handle?”

Rarity grimaces as the guards break apart to surround them, staying a healthy ways away from the pair standing barrel to barrel but facing opposite directions, leaving no way for them to be flanked. She doesn’t want to appear weak, not in front of (or compared to) a stallion, but neither does she want to exaggerate her ability. “I don’t think more than ten.”

Lunaris almost looks hopeful despite being drastically outnumbered. “Including the big ones?”

Rarity solemnly shakes her head. She doesn’t trust herself to dodge the nets, but with the potion she could outpace the crystal guards and easily outrange them.

Lunaris grunts. “Leaving twenty for me.”

“Nineteen,” Rarity corrects with a teasing grin.

“You’re forgetting the one I crippled,” Lunaris returns. Rarity rolls her eyes at his pedantry, but the injured guard is indeed limping toward them, using the spear in his mouth as a fourth leg. The renowned duelist sighs as the other guards tense, a hard look in their eyes, like this is no longer a game to them. “Temporarily!” the Prince calls, giving a smile that fails to soften their stony looks. “We don’t want to hurt any of you! He’ll walk it off in a day, or less!”

Rarity gulps as the guards edge closer, their options quickly becoming more and more limited. Fear enters her voice. “What do we do?”

Lunaris stays far braver than she expects, calmly asking, like this is some sort of game to him, “What are our assets?”

Rarity keeps the rapier at the ready so none of the guards get any ideas while she thinks. “Your steel. Those spells.” She flicks her mane, restoring her natural colors. A few of the guards whistle appreciably as her long purple locks tumble to her sides. “My beauty.”

Lunaris’ gaze rolls across her, and she can feel his heart beat faster for a moment. Still got it. Then he asks, “Can you charm any of them with that beauty? Even the numbers a little bit? Even a short mesmerize would work.”

“Err,” Rarity stalls. She’s never tried utilizing her beauty in that manner, and doubts anypony would look kindly on that sort of Malevolence, even if it isn’t a spell she cast from her horn. “...No.”

Lunaris huffs. “Well, why did you list that among our assets in the first place?”

She scowls.

He loudly exclaims, “What I wouldn’t give for a fire-breathing dragon we could use as a flamethrower!”

A few of the guards take cautious steps backward. To minimize their susceptibility to area attacks, of course.

“I thought we weren’t trying to injure them,” Rarity questions, her eyes going wide at just the thought of burning ponies alive.

“It’s called a blave,” comes the irritated response.

“A bluff.” Rarity feels like clobbering her companion. “You were bluffing about that?!”

“True,” Lunaris concedes, showing none of her exasperation. “But that’s hardly common knowledge, is it?”

Rarity gapes at him. “You literally just said that we didn’t want to hurt them.”

“Yes,” Lunaris says, circling around so he faces a different section of guards. They back off in a hurry. He glances up at the sky with a growing smirk. “But there is one thing left to do when the odds seem insurmountable.”

“And that is?” Rarity demands.

A twinkle gleams in Lunaris’ eye just before he dons a thick pair of sunglasses. “Cheese it.”

“What?” Rarity says, not quite understanding when nothing happens. “You mean run away?”

“‘S’cuse me, partner. Pardon me.” Cheese Sandwich pushes through the wall of guards. He stands in a duelist’s stance, wielding a floppy rubber chicken in one hoof and an accordion in the other. His yellow shirt is stained with fruit punch, red frosting, and tomato juice. He saunters up to the Prince. “Need something?”

Lunaris takes the appearance in stride while Rarity lets out a shrill shriek. “Running late?”

“Nope.” Cheese Sandwich checks a timepiece, then jams it back into the chicken. “You’re running fast.”

“Ah,” Lunaris concedes. He glances at the train station behind them. “My mistake.”

Rarity huffs. “What are you-”

She’s cut off as her hat tugs down over her face. Suddenly, the entire area is bathed in white, even through the thick fabric. Light, bright as though she is staring at the sun, burns her eyes even as her eyelids slam shut. Then a thunderous noise, the low rumble of a dozen cannons firing without end, rolls over her. She can’t hear, can’t see, can barely make out the feel of a hoof dragging her along a section of crystal rubble.

Next Chapter: Ch. 149 - Brittle Barrier, Part Three Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 28 Minutes