Jogging’s fun. No really, allow me to just sit here and relay to you what it’s like running through a desert. I’m almost certain that you’ll find the tale of an idiot running around in the middle of a place too boring for even plants to grow quite intriguing, won’t you?

Moving on, I jogged and jogged through the brown terrain that never seemed to change, the city never getting any closer from the looks of it. When I couldn’t jog anymore, I walked. When I couldn’t walk, I crawled. When I couldn’t crawl, I took a five minute break to drink a bit of water from my canteens that were fortunately filled by the ever kind Hawkeye before getting back up off my ass to go back to jogging.

The hours blended together into something that stretched on forever, the only thing keeping me from simply stopping and allowing myself to expire being the slight shift of the sun in the sky and the gradual enlargement of the town in the distance. Nothing about the landscape itself changed, but in the sky floated more clouds than anywhere else in this dried out hellhole. The number being one to be precise. Sigh.

Eventually, I reached the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis, the haven for hellions, the shitstain of the earth; I reached Sauna Pai.

Let me tell you a bit about this place. Sauna Pai was a homely little town in the middle of nowhere that was so small that every family had grown next to one another for generations upon generations. Every individual in the population knew one another on a first name basis, and they were all good friends. Well, except for the two largest families in the region.

The Blancas of the house La Casa Blanca – seriously, I’m pretty sure that translated to the White House. Where are these these ponies getting their names from? – were a wealthy family that was quite influencial throughout the region. Though they were quite a small, tightly-knit family consisting of about twelve members, they were undoubtedly powerful.

Then there were the Eltens of house…Elten. This family was much larger than the Blancas, consisting of a jaw-dropping fifty two members. The only problem with this family? They descended from gamblers. The first two members of the family, Daddy and Momma Elten, migrated to this desolate plain in hopes of earning a little more spending cash when they helped build the town, believing that it would become a tourist attraction for its “quaint atmosphere and industrious communities”.

None of this happened the way they had planned, however, and somewhere along the line they had a few children who had a few more children with the locals. When the Eltens were all but broke, meaning they had their hooves on what probably equated to over two million U.S. dollars, they gambled out of desperation at the Blancas’ casino that for some reason was opened out here.

The equivalent to two million dollars and they were desperate? Come the fuck on.

Anyway, as their family grew larger and larger and they grew poorer and poorer, they did the only logical thing: they gambled more and more of their money in hopes of getting a larger return. They lost all their cash and they blamed it on the Blancas for “cheating” them out of their fortune. I literally facepalmed when I spoke to one of the more impassioned members of the Elten family, who happened to be drunk and rambling at the time, about this issue. I got all of this information simply because I was asking where the nearest bar was.

I wanted to smack the taste out of his blabbering mouth for wasting my time with some feud I gave zero shits about.

Since I started the story, though, I might as well finish it. The Blancas, on the other hand, came from a much humbler family of tomato farmers that all stuck together through thick and thin, and extended from the first generation that moved to Sauna Pai after the once prominent Elten family in hopes of finding decent-paying jobs. Somehow they managed to save up enough money by dually selling their “top-notch” tomatoes that they grew indoors and working for the Eltens.

They eventually pushed their way across the land with their amazing vegetables, giving jobs to various unemployed families and in turn increasing their influence. They built a casino on the side in Sauna Pai, and when the Blancas weaned themselves off of the teats of the Elten family, the Eltens began to gamble at their esteemed establishment in hopes of increasing their wealth.

Needless to say, the exact opposite happened, and when the Eltens came crawling on their equine equivalents of knees to the Blancas, begging for money to help them get their lives back on track. Naturally, being the kind-hearted, and not at all manipulative, people they were, the Blancas gave the Eltens the money they needed to get out of their hard times.

Then the Eltens threw it away gambling again.

I got this information from a member of the Blanca family as he was trotting down the “nicer” streets of Sauna Pai at about midnight. He was also intoxicated. No wonder these ponies were so talkative when a literal alien from another world spoke to them in the dead of night, they were all drunk! I wanted to get drunk too, so why wouldn’t anyone simply point me in the direction of the bar when I asked them instead of giving me their damned family history!?

I placed a hand on my head as I sighed, looking down to the pony named Queseque Blanca, who for some reason had taken us out of the town and rested near a sign out front. On it was the population number, there being only two hundred ten ponies, the previous number of sixty four residents being crossed off with what looked to be faded chalk.

“Listen,” I said, running my hand down my face. “Will you just direct me to the nearest bar? I ain’t got time for your bullshit.”

“And of course we cannot forget of my part in this dangerous game!” responded the drunken pony, completely ignoring what I had to say. “I am the lover who is unloved! The dreamer who cannot come to terms with reality! I am the sheagle who is without wings!” Oh, and this guy had an amazing Spanish accent, by the by.

“Sheagle? The fuck’s a sheagle?”

“Sheagle, y’know? Eh, like an, uh, l-like a she eagle! I am the flyer, but I may as well have the lady parts because I cannot speak to the ladies, you know amigo?”

“I feel ya, compadre, but I honestly don’t give a shit. I just want to find the nearest bar! Can’t you get that through that thick ass head o’ yours?” I asked, beginning to feel a bit irritated with this copper-haired pony.

Queseque aimed his hazel eyes in my direction. “Qué? Oh, yes, yes. But of course! I could point you to the greatest bar in town, man!”

With those words, Queseque – who probably couldn’t even pronounce his overly-complicated name in this state – extended his tangerine hued wings and attempted to fly, only to somehow catch the single gust of wind that had ever passed through this desert and go crashing into the sign.

“I’m okay!” he drunkenly said.

I facepalmed for the umpteenth time since the past five minutes before turning around to walk back into town.

“I think I can find my own way, bro.”

“Ey, no need, amigo!” said the pegasus as he stumbled over alongside me. “I think walking’s better anyway. We can just sit here under the stars in the desert sky while getting to know one another…It’s quite romantic.”

I turned toward Queseque, an eyebrow raised. “Tangarine Pony. Is it a’ight if I call you Tangarine Pony?” Queseque nodded. “I don’t swing that way, bro. I know you sayin’ you ain’t got some in a while, but I ain’t experimentin’, so you ain’t either. Take that crap to someone you know,” I said.

“What? Oh! No, no! You misunderestimate me, fam. I’m just thinking about…her…” he said with a starry-eyed expression that was illuminated by the moon as it hanged in the sky. Cursed drunks and their misuse of words. ‘Misunderestimate’? For real?

I could tell that he wanted me to ask about who this mystery girl was, so I decided not to ask for that specific reason.

“I know what you’re thinking, you are wondering who she is, the dove who stole my heart,” said Queseque.

“Actually, no, I’m not. Your bizz is your bizz, ya dig? An’ I ain’t tryin’ to intrude on your personal life.”

“Her name, the mare who reduced this fierce hawk into a whimpering hatchling, is-,” I cut him off.

“None o’ my business?” I tried.

“Her name is Moxie Elten!”

Damn ponies.

“One, two, three,…” I said as I stopped in the middle of the street we were on.

“You alright, bro?” asked Queseque as he turned back around to regard me with worried eyes. I continued counting as he trotted closer to me.

“What’s wrong, ese?”

“I’m tryin’ not to smack a bitch, is what’s wrong. But fortunately for you, my little pony, I’m merciful. Guess my anger management courses in elementary school paid off,” I gave him a winning smile as I passed him, still in search of the local bar.

The streetlights were still being lit by various townspeople, the glass casings being opened and the candles inside being lit. I noticed that a few of them were glaring down at the Blanca I was next to, and others were passing glares on to me along with looks of fear. I could only assume that these must have been the members of the once prestigious Elten family.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable underneath all the scrutinizing glances the ponies around us gave, but as Queseque continued rambling on as though he didn’t notice them I simply kept by his side.

As we moved further into the small town, I saw a greater presence of Saddle Arabian guards. There weren’t many, probably only about a dozen, but they were definitely here. I received even more discomforting stares from the red-garbed ponies as they played with their weapons or stopped their conversations in their language to simply look at me intently.

More whispers were exchanged between the guards as we approached before I nudged Queseque with a boot.

“Yo, where the hell we goin’?” I whispered. “The bar can’t be that far away!”

“As I’ve said, hermano, we’re going to the best bar in town!”

“And where would that be, exactly?” I queried.

“Oh, it’s just across the way! We’re going to my parents’ place, homes!” he responded, seeming slightly more sober.

“Oh for crying out loud,” I said exasperatedly.

“Que te pasa?” questioned the pony.

I looked down at him in askance. “The hell’d you just say to me?”

“What’s wrong, ese? That’s what I’m asking,” said Queseque.

“It’s nothin’, Tangarine. Nothin’ at all. They got booze at your place?” I asked.

“Of course, bro! The best brew in town!” he enthusiastically said, showing his bright white teeth as he smiled.

“Good. Let’s just hurry the hell up an’ get there before we-,” I was interrupted as a Saddle Arabian stepped in front of us.

“What do you want?” I asked, warily looking at the swan-necked pony.

“Ah, we were simply wondering if we could walk you and the respectable Mr. Blanca to his home. It does get quite dangerous after dark, after all,” said the nameless pony as his cronies moved to surround us.

“Piss off,” I said, trying to keep the nervousness out of my tone as I realized they were all armed. “We don’t need your help walkin’ nowhe-,” and yet again I was interrupted, but this time it was by a bumbling moron.

“Sure thing, bros! The more the merrier!” said the fruit-colored idiot.

“Then we shall take you under our care for the time being, Mr. Blanca. The relations between your family and Saddle Arabia are quite valued,” responded the leader of this group of Saddle Arabians, a sycophantic smile crossing his tannish face.

“Come with us; we shall see you are safely returned home.”

I really wanted to strangle Queseque at this moment. He’d been nothing but a nuisance thus far, and I was about done with his gallivanting, but I needed to endure this for the time being because of him.

I felt uncomfortable the whole walk, not paying too much attention to the surroundings so much as I was eyeing the red-garbed guards. Honestly, why did Queseque agree to this?

As we were led to the town’s outskirts, we eventually came across a paved cement path, a nice change from the dirt and dust of Sauna Pai’s regular ground.The Saddle Arabians kept quiet for the most part. The leader, though, eventually struck up small talk with Queseque as he trotted along.

“So, Mr. Blanca, what were you doing in Sauna Pai all by yourself after dark?” asked the leader.

“Oh, nothing much, ese. I was simply hitting the town with a couple of my amigos, but they bailed on me halfway through the night, man. What kind of crap is that, am I right?”

“Indeed,” answered the ringleader, sounding rather disinterested. “If there is but one thing to enjoy about your…interesting family, I must say that it is their products. I truly do find their vegetables – the tomatoes in particular – rather delightful. How is it that they cultivate their crops so well?” asked the pony.

“Oh, that’s a secret closely guarded, mi amigo, one so closely guarded that not even I know of it. I heard that they use some kind of special product during the cultivating process, though, if that helps,” responded Queseque.

“Ah,” responded the ringleader. I could see that I was being closely watched by the other Saddle Arabians, who seemed to be sizing me up as we walked. Every time I looked back at them when they glanced, though, they would turn their heads forward, acting as though they weren’t doing anything.

“So I have heard that you and Prince Yahguul have become fast friends, Mr. Blanca. Would you mind telling me how that came to be?”

“Sure thing Señor, uh…,” Queseque trailed off as he realized he never asked the pony’s name.

“Arib, you may call me,” the Saddle Arabian provided.

“Arib! Well, me and the Prince both met in the most normal of ways: we both were drunk in a dirty bar and sang songs together! It only took but one night to know we were kindred spirits, ese!” the stallion beamed at Arib.

“Hmhm. Indeed. That sounds just like something our fair Prince would do,” the guard smiled before turning to look up at me, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“Hello, there. You already have my name, so would you mind giving me yours? It is only fair.”

I looked down at the pony, chewing my tongue as I considered telling him to go shove his questions where the sun don’t shine. Eventually, though, I settled on just telling him.

“Ladarion,” I said simply.

“Ladarion? Ladarion, Ladarion,…” Arib rolled the name around on his tongue a bit as he turned back to face forward. “An interesting name, that is. I quite like it,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks. Anything important you gotta ask, though?” I responded, a bit of hostility creeping into my tone.

“Where are you from, Ladarion? I am curious,” stated Arib.

“I come from a big blue ball somewhere in the cosmos,” I responded. “From a planet where people can make others’ heads explode without even touching them.”

Arib’s curious look turned into one of alarm. “W-what?” he eloquently challenged, horror clearly carved into his visage.

“Yup. If I stare you in the eyes hard enough, I can make your brain ooze outta your nose,” I said, a smile creeping on to my face as I looked into the pony’s brown eyes. Arib let out a small cough as he turned to once again face forward, not wanting to test out my threat.

We finally reached Queseque’s mansion, meaning the silence that I had thankfully forced out of Arib was shattered as the shorter guards, covered in silver chestpieces and faceless helmets, trotted up to meet us. The mansion was white, holding true to the Blanca name, and was almost like a miniature version of the White House. There was a gate that separated us from the synthetic green grass and running fountains on the other side, and the guards that stood in front of it stood vigilantly, as was their duty.

The guards were armed with spears and shortswords, and they readied them at the sight of the Saddle Arabian group approaching the house. They then lowered their weapons once again as they saw the tangerine pony move his way through the red-garbed guards.

One of the guards, this one a winged pony, trotted up to the young Blanca.

“It is a pleasure to see you in good health, Mr. Blanca,” said the guard.

“Oh, please! Mr. Blanca is the name of my old man, you know this, Flash!” responded Queseque.

The blue-maned guard offered a salute as he responded. “My apologies, sir. Who is your company?” he said as he looked to me.

“He’s an amigo, Flash. We’re going to go drinking together!” Queseque excitedly responded.

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir? You already seem a bit…tipsy,” said Flash as he eyed the wobbly pony.

“It’s all good, ese! You and I both know I can take shots like a champ!” responded Queseque before drunkenly laughing.

“Of course, sir. Don’t hurt yourself,” the tannish pony said as he waved for the guards on the other side of the gate to open it.

“Gracias, amigo!” said the obnoxious pony as he waltzed inside before turning around to look at me with a smile. “Well? You coming in or what, hermano?”

I turned back to the Saddle Arabians who were all still scrutinizing me before looking back at the tangerine-coated pony, weighing my options of dying should I go with either option.

I had a very important question to ask before I made any decisions, though:

“There’s gonna be alcohol, right?” I asked, a suspicious expression on my face.

“Of course, man! It’s all free, too!”

And like that, I decided I would prefer to go out with alcohol poisoning than I would with steel poisoning.

As I walked past the gate, Queseque smiled up at me before casting a glare over to Arib and his crew. “Before I forget, I gotta say something: Don’t let me see your brown-nosing faces around my house again, okay? I’ve been nice enough trying to set up better relations between my family and your nation, but you best back off a bit, homes,” he said as he waved a hoof.

“Guards, remove them from my property, por favor.” The guards moved forward, swords and spears aimed Arib and the rest of the Saddle Arabians, who all had surprised looks on their faces.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Arib. “We helped you through your town!”

“Though the Eltens may be a threat, they’d never lay a hoof on me, hermano. They may have numbers, but I’ve got power. One means a lot more than the other in the long run. Besides, I’m a grown stallion, I can walk through Sauna Pai myself with nopony holding my hoof. Thank you for your help, though, and adios amigo!” Queseque said as he waved away the Saddle Arabians.

As the guards advanced, Arib and his men irritatedly allowed themselves to be escorted off of the property of the Blancas, the leader turning back once more to give Queseque the evil eye before disappearing out of sight.

“Well, ese? Are you ready to get your drink on?”

I looked down curiosly at the pegasus as he walked ahead of me, honestly surprised at his display.

I could only dumbly follow after him to the front of his family’s mansion, which had the letters “LCB” engraved in bold steel letters on their bold steel door.

“Ladarion’s the name, right?” he asked. At my nod he smiled, turning with a flourish in his drunken steps as he lifted a hoof to present the mansion that he called home.

“Welcome to La Casa Blanca!”

Author's Notes:

I was planning on there being a bar fight by the end of this chapter, but then THIS suddenly hit me outta nowhere. I'm interested to see where I can take this sudden change in plans...

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