A trio of boats rock gently in the open blue sea. Wood creaks, people chatter and salty wind beats against the sails and flags marked with a hanging stick pony. On the deck of the lead ship, watching the never ending scenery is a scrawny fellow with simple chain mail armor underneath a metal curiass. His golden eyes may be aged, but there is a softness to them that cannot be ignored. His fur is a graying brown, and the pair of curved horns on his skull are dark gray. Strapped to him is a single saber.

He peers through a scope and through the fog he sees a small city made of cheap wood and brick with a row of docks and a tower overlooking it all. He folds the scope down and hastily approaches a similar creature -though much younger- and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Send the signal. We're about to reach Equestrian shores,” says the elder, named Star Diagramm.

The younger male nods and runs off, shouting out the order, and while Star makes his way to a thick door with metal bands, a large flag with red and white stripes is hoisted up.

More orders are shouted and dozens of boots scamper along the deck and down below, but Star calmly opens the thick door, slides inside the room and closes it behind him. The wood does little to muffle the chaos outside, but Star knows the occupant does not mind. Really, he has never heard the occupant complain about anything for as long as he has known him. Not even about the pain he must be in.

With his hands clamped behind his back, Star approaches a large stallion sitting in a chair comfortable for his size. His body is covered in dark armor with chain mail covering his huge arms. Sharp pauldrons are connected to his curiass, which has silver flames on the ribs, and his gauntlets, shin pads and boots are all black as night with his face fully covered by a helmet with silver horns that hook towards the front of his maw. Covering him is a cape made of thick, white fur held in place by a silver chain around his neck, and loosely connected metal plates rest against his thighs. A massive, sleek blade of obsidian color with a bronze handle is between his legs, stabbing the floor, and this is where he has perched his hands. The passenger's head remains bowed, however, and shows no signs of acknowledging the presence of Star.

Star sighs inwardly, hating how he can never tell if this person is sleeping or not, and he carefully approaches the beast, hearing the faintest of labored breaths.

“Sir, we are about to reach Equestria,” says Star. “Port Goodwill, from the looks of it.”

The dark pools of the passenger's helmet slide away to reveal a pair of jaded green eyes, and with a terrible wheeze the knight lifts his head just enough to look at Star.

Star waits for a verbal response, but when all the passenger does is nod, he licks his lips and steps a little bit closer.

“Is there anything you desire before we land?” asks Star.

The knight beckons Star forward. The ibex leans close so he can hear.

“Loyalty,” wheezes the knight.

Star nods and puts his hand on the giant's shoulder. “Always, sir.”

The knight stares at Star for a few seconds, and then his eyes drift shut and his head bows, and Star leaves. Once Star is outside, he takes a deep breath, then whistles loudly and sharply. The crew stops what they are doing and those that can, huddle around him.

“Boys,” begins Star, “we are about to reach land. You all have your allowances, and you're all grown goats, so I don't have to tell you to spend your money wisely. If you blow it all on harlots when we dock that will be your fault. That said, when we land, take the night to enjoy yourselves, for the coming weeks will not be kind. One day of relaxation, then the next weeks will be bloodshed that'll end with the biggest payday the Forsaken Sons has ever seen!”

The crew cheers and raises their fists high, and Star smiles and barely raises his fist.

“We unload fast, travel light, fight hard, and take home our retirement. Dismissed,” says Star.

The group scatters, chatting excitedly among themselves, and Star sighs and leans against the railing, watching the shore creep ever closer, thinking about how the days ahead will play out. As well as thinking about how his friend in the room will handle what is to come.

In the room, the knight keeps his eyes closed, but the cheering is music to his damaged ears, which provides his aching body with some comfort. However, while the Forsaken Sons think about the money, the tail they can buy, or -for the competitive- how many kills they can score, he has only one thing on his mind, and it brings a smile to his burnt face.