The Phoenix of the Wasteland

by DeneldtheTramp

Chapters

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Epilogue

Chapter 1

The dusty wheelbarrow baked under the scorching desert sun, waiting to be filled with barrels of water by Our Town's most esteemed heavy lifter, Party Favor, who stood by for the town merchant to conclude a deal with this season's caravan from Appleoosa. He, being rather dull and uninterested in such issues, kept himself occupied with the sight of tumbleweeds coasting with the wind. He had a large, ridiculous grin plastered on his face. Everyone did, but his was the biggest. He loved life in Our Town because the simple life it offered him complimented his simple character. Everything was simpler in a small town where everyone was equal to each other by law, by custom, and even by mark.

In some short distance to his left, he overheard a conversation that included a voice entirely new to him. Although he couldn't make out the words, the deep bass spoke in a hard and guttural foreign accent that couldn't help but remind him of some far-off land of dense pine forests and carpets of snow. Party Favor looked in the voice's direction, and he saw the town's ever vigilant second-in-command, Double Diamond, talking to a large figure in a dusty hooded cloak and brown rucksack, perhaps to be mistaken for a career plow-puller if not for the greenish-brown horn protruding from his forehead and the white, sand-stained goatee on the part of his face not covered by the hood. Party Favor trotted over to the two so he could greet the newcomer.

He soon got in close enough to hear Double Diamond's voice.

“So, where do you come from, friend?”

“I come from a land far away," the figure replied. "A land that you have never heard of, nor should you.”

Double Diamond blinked. “Um, okay. So what's your name?”

The figure stroked his beard. “Name? I have not gone by any name in a long, long time. I have not needed one.”

“No name? Why wouldn't you need a name?”

“I have been spending over two score years wandering about the desert, traveling from town to town, and living off the land. I have not needed to be on a name-to-name basis with anyone since I was about your father's age.”

Party Favor chimed in, “Hey, Double D! Who's our new friend?”

“I don't know. At least, I don't know what to call him.” Double Diamond turned to the hooded one. “We'll just call you 'Wanderer' from now on. Are you okay with that?”

“I do not mind. I only intend to stay for a night, if you will have me.”

“Of course we will! Come. I'll introduce you to the town mayor, Starlight Glimmer.”

“Can I come with?” asked Party Favor.

“Sorry, brother. You need to carry the water, remember?”

Party Favor's eyes fell to the ground as he let out a hearty sigh. “Yeah. I know.” He turned and walked back to the trade depot as Double Diamond escorted the Wanderer to the mayor's house.

The house's interior was blandly rustic, with little in the way of décor. A framed picture of an equal sign, the same symbol emblazoned on every flank in Our Town, hung beside the door to the front, below the staircase. The Wanderer slipped his hood back from off his head. The Wanderer's tired beige eyes and thinning white mane reminded Double Diamond of his own grandfather, who lived in the mountains. His throat stuffed itself into a lump as he thought of home. He tried to swallow his sadness. He didn't want to look sad in front of the town mayor.

The Wanderer's eyes snapped to him. “Something troubling you, boy?”

“N-no. I'm a-okay!”

The Wanderer nodded, perhaps in approval at Double Diamond's toughness. “Starlight!” shouted Diamond, “We have a guest! Do you want to meet him?”

“I'll be right there!” replied a mare's voice from behind the door. After a brief moment, the door swung open, and from the opening emerged the mayor, with a grin more reasonable than those of the other town residents, but still eerie.

“Hi there, friend!” she said, “We're always happy to see new faces in our humble little village. So, what's your name?”

“You can call me Wanderer. At least, that is what yours have taken to calling me.”

“Well, don't you have a name of your own?”

“Not that I remember.”

“He's a wanderer,” Double Diamond interjected, “he says he's been just walking around in the desert for 'two score years,' whatever that means.”

Starlight gasped; her eyes grew in an exaggeratedly concerned look. “That's... that's forty years. You know that, right? He's been stranded in the desert since before any of us were born.” She turned to the Wanderer. “You must be famished. Please, go into my refrigerator and help yourself. Go in the way I came out.”

“Thanks,” said the Wanderer. As the Wanderer plodded forward get food and drink, Starlight looked to Double Diamond and rested a hoof on his shoulder.

Starlight turned around to speak quietly with Double Diamond. “We need to be extra nice to the old stallion. The town could really use somepony who knows the lay of the land. He might know where we can find some groundwater. Do you know how expensive it is to buy water from the caravans?”

Double Diamond struggled to hold back tears as his heart sunk deep into his chest, and the lump in his throat grew larger. “Yeah. I know. We had to sell Offbeat's family heirloom that one time. And I don't even want to think about Sugar Belle's foal...”

“Right. And keep an eye on him. It's a shock he hasn't dropped dead by now. Let me know when he starts coughing up blood or something, okay?”

Double Diamond nodded before going into the kitchen to check on the Wanderer, hearing the front door shut behind him. He saw the Wanderer having already set up his own dish of bread, apples, and water.

The Wanderer magically lifted an apple up from off the plate. His eyes narrowed with curiosity as he examined the apple. Double Diamond watched as he sniffed the apple before taking a tiny bite from it.

“Hm. Sweet,” mumbled the Wanderer. His eyes switched between Double Diamond and the apple a couple times as he took violent bites from it. “What is the matter, boy? Have you never seen someone eat before?”

“Um, n-no.”

“And why are you always smiling like that? Why does everyone in this town smile like that? It is as if I have landed in some strange cult. It would not be the first time that has happened.”

Double Diamond's face strained itself into an expression closer to something “normal”. “I'm sorry, Wanderer. We're just concerned is all.”

The Wanderer snorted. “Yes, I know. I am old, so everyone thinks that I am weak. And I presume your mayor told you to stay with me to monitor my health?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Just let me finish my food. Is that understood, boy? I do not require your presence.”

“Gosh, Wanderer, I dunno. She told me to keep an eye on you. I really don't want to disobey her.”

“Ah, so she's that kind of mayor. Very well. Then sit here on the table and try not to talk too much.”

“Yes, sir.”

Double Diamond pulled back a chair opposite of the Wanderer and sat. He did nothing but meditate on the grains of the wooden table as his ears filled with the sounds of sloppy eating. The Wanderer gobbled down his food in short order, leaving water and apple juice stains on the table. After the Wanderer finished, he got up and walked back to the living room. Double Diamond shuffled his way next to the Wanderer, whose attention was fixed on the scenery.

“So, do you want to see the guest room?” asked Double Diamond.

“Is it upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“And I suppose you are going to ask if you can help me up the stairs, like a good boy scout.”

“You can do it yourself?”

“And for your own sake, do not forget it.”

Double Diamond sighed. “Yes, sir.”

Just then, the front door creaked open. Starlight emerged from it, levitating a large bottle of shampoo in front of her.

“Oh, hey, Wanderer! I just thought you'd feel better after you've washed up. It's getting late. I don't think you'd like to go to bed being so dirty, and future guests probably wouldn't appreciate it either. The shower is upstairs.”

Starlight and the Wanderer exchanged magical grips on the bottle. “Thanks,” he said. He turned around, then climbed the stairs in the direction of the bathroom. Starlight was right to think that he'd rather not sleep dirty.

It was the crack of dawn when the Wanderer's crust-filled eyes opened after a rock-hard slumber. With a groan, he magically tossed the blanket down to the foot of the bed, revealing the mess of large, poorly healed scars on his skin, with a bulky musculature and visible ribs underneath. The mattress creaked as he pushed himself up from it. 'I had not had a proper bed to sleep in for quite a while,' he thought to himself. He bowed his head down over the bed in reverence, and prayed: "We art blessed by thee, Great Lord Almighty, that we art allowed another day. Our faith shall not yield, as it never must, for thy word is law, and thy rule is just. Thy glory shines for all to see, and our path shalt never go astray. Duty. Honor. Courage. Everlasting loyalty."

After worship, he lifted his head back up, and started his morning training routine. Whatever anyone else might have thought, his age didn't hinder the rigorous bodyweight exercise program that maintained his form. Like his prayer, it was routine drilled into him long ago, back when he still had a place to call home. He trained for about an hour without break, and because he did so in a cool room indoors, he hardly broke a sweat by the time he was done.

Once he made the bed and left the guest room, he heard a light snore from down the hall to his right. His turned his face in that direction to find the door to Starlight's room wide open, and beyond that, Starlight, herself, with her blanket tossed aside like an unwanted toy. The Wanderer turned around to eat breakfast. At least, he would have if he hadn't noticed blotches of blue in what looked like Starlight's equal mark having faded partially. 'It is not like nobody has ever pulled that trick before,' he thought to himself, 'and a little dirt can be useful to have sometimes.'

He crept into the bathroom, careful not to be too noisy. After a delicate closing of the door, he levitated the guest's towel from off the rack, and held it under the showerhead before running the water over it. Once the towel was wet, he switched the shower off and wrung the towel over the drain, watching as excess water hit the floor and slid down the drain.

With towel in magical grip, he left the bathroom and entered Starlight's bedroom. 'The mayor does look adorable when she is asleep,' he thought. After some quiet steps, he stood over her, close enough to see the expanding and contracting of her chest as she breathed. Gently with the towel, he wiped Starlight's flank, smearing the towel with paint and revealing the true mark underneath, confirming his suspicions.

“Figures,” the Wanderer mumbled.

He sneaked back into the bathroom. Once more, he ran the towel through water from the showerhead. The colors were reluctant to leave the towel, but given enough time, they relented, and became hardly noticeable on the cloth. He hung it back on the rack, ensuring that the unstained part faced forward, then went downstairs to eat breakfast. He didn't plan on overstaying his welcome. He still hadn't found what he was searching for in the wastes, and he wanted to leave Our Town as soon as possible.

With the the rays of the bright morning sky shining through the living room window, and his rucksack slung on his back, the Wanderer whipped his hood over his head and opened the front door. The hot air rushed through his nostrils as he took a hearty breath and looked down at the community of smiling townsfolk down the road. The soulless voids that were their eyes were sights all too familiar to the Wanderer. He paused, lost for a moment in wondering if his own eyes were just as soulless as theirs. He didn't dwell long, however; he resumed his trek back into the Wasteland.

As he made his way out of the town, he heard a commotion spreading throughout the town. He paid little mind to it. 'This town's problems are not mine,' he thought to himself. The whispers and mumbles around him grew louder the further he went. Eventually, he heard the thunderous trampling of hooves behind him and a mare calling out to him. “Wanderer! Wait! Stop!”

The Wanderer turned back to find Starlight already within feet of him. 'She is a fairly swift runner,' he thought, 'or perhaps a desperate one.'

Starlight took a moment to catch her breath. “Why are you leaving?” she yelled. “Don't tell me you'd rather stay in that lifeless desert than in my town!”

“I have spent decades in the Wasteland in search for something precious to me. I have not found it yet, and your town is not so special that I would give up decades of work to spend the rest of my days in it.”

Starlight raised a single eyebrow. “Well, what is it that you're looking for out there?”

“Redemption.” He turned his back to Starlight and continued on, but she scampered around and in front of him. 'Cults do tend to be clingy with their prospective recruits,' he reminded himself.

Starlight puffed. “Have you thought that maybe your redemption is here, with us, in Our Town?”

“What redemption could I possibly find in your town, above all others?”

Starlight rubbed her chin. “Hmm... maybe your problem is you've been going about your search the wrong way. Do you know what they call doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?”

“I do.”

The corners of Starlight's lips curled into a confident smile. “Well, that's a pretty accurate word to describe your approach to the situation. Your dedication is very admirable, but it clearly hasn't been effective. Come live with us. We can help you find what you've been looking for for so long.”

“You make a compelling argument. But what is the catch?”

“You can call it a 'catch' if you want, but really, the only thing you have to do is go through the Equalization Process.”

“I am not interested in your hazing ritual. I am, however, weary from many years of travel. If you were to let me take temporary residence in your town for, say, six months without going through your hazing, then you would have ample opportunity to change my mind.”

Starlight's smile slunk away. “I'm sorry, but I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“That would be... unprecedented. It would be entirely antithetical to our worldview. I can't let you do that. I'm sorry, but you'll have to come up with something else.”

“I would not be the first.”

“What do you mean?” she snapped back.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Starlight's mouth suddenly let on a vindictive snarl, and her eyes took on a fierce gaze sharp enough to cut glass. She brought her face to the side of the indifferent face of the Wanderer, so that he could feel her breath in his ear through his hood as she whispered. “Listen here, you old bag. I don't know how you figured me out, but I suggest you forget whatever it is you saw or heard and give me your cutie mark before I turn you to dust right here.”

“Ma'am,” he whispered back, “would you really hurt an elderly stallion?”

“Do you think I wouldn't?”

“Mmm." He paused. "I think you would. I can see it in your eyes. You remind me of someone I knew back in my glory days. Before you make a rather tragic mistake, might I ask you a few things?”

“Hmph. Fine.”

“You are an Equestrian, correct?”

“I am.”

“Province?”

“Canterlot.”

“Of noble birth?”

“Get to the point.”

“We do not have to be enemies. We can be friends, and you can be very powerful.”

“How powerful are we talking?”

“Powerful enough to give your Celestia a run for her money.”

Starlight's face lit up with an excited curiosity. “Oh, do tell...”

The Wanderer took a brief pause, taking mental note of Starlight's fickle disposition. “Have you heard the story of the Gem of Mount Athon?”

“Tell me.”

He drawed out a long breath. “Over four thousand years ago, all the Elements of Harmony were within one single gem, in the ancient Canterlot Castle, and Equestria was in a civil war where armies of Celestia and Luna fought against armies of another god, from Tartarus. It was a fierce and bloody war. In one decisive battle, Celestia's enemies invaded Canterlot, and burned it to the ground. This is how this other god got possession of this gem. However, its powers could only be activated by Celestia or Luna. For spite, this god put a curse on the gem so that they could only activate it in conjunction with him.

"Much later, when he lost the war and was banished to this very Wasteland, he locked the gem in Mount Athon, and created a vast army of stone centaurs out of the very mountains in which they stand dormant.

"As you might already know, all the unicorn Canterlot nobility have distant blood ties to the dual princesses, including you. As for my part, that's a story for another day, but you get the point already, do you not?”

“What exactly would we be conquering with this miraculous army of rock-creatures?”

“There is a vast civilization north of here, where I come from, along a vast river that goes many miles down the eastern mountain range. Suffice it to say if you thought ponies only came from Equestria, you were gravely mistaken.”

“And how do I know this isn't all a steaming load of garbage that you're using to get over on me? This does sound just a little too good to be true.”

“If I had any ill will towards you, do you not think I would have revealed your secret to everyone in your town by now?”

“And how do I know this isn't all just crazed rambling from a senile old kook?”

“I am sure I have already proven that I am far from senile.”

“And I can use my power to create true harmony in this brave new world?”

“I do not see why I should oppose you on those grounds. By what little I have seen, your way seems to work adequately.”

“And what about your 'redemption'?”

“I think that will come with the journey rather than the destination. Perhaps my years of searching have finally paid off.”

“Hmm...” Starlight stepped back a few paces. She spoke at normal volume. “You have yourself a deal, Wanderer. I'm still skeptical – you have no way of proving your honesty, after all – but I have a good feeling about this one. But if this turns up nothing, then consider yourself dead.” She extended her hoof for a shake.

The Wanderer reciprocated the gesture. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Glimmer.”

Starlight turned her attention to the rest of the town to make an announcement. “Attention, everypony! I have great news!” The crowd swarmed around her like a flock of birds. “This Wanderer, this kind old gentleman... has generously offered to help us find groundwater! Isn't that amazing folks!?”

“We can finally have running water, like you!” one in the crowd said.

“I can finally wash the dirt off my face!” said another.

“And I can play watersports!”

Starlight continued. “Yes, it's true. And I will accompany him and help him find groundwater for us. But it's going to be a long and arduous task, so we need a volunteer to help us carry supplies. And Party Favor will be our volunteer! Come forward, Party Favor!”

Party Favor, in a sea of cheering and applause, galloped to Starlight, his face beaming with enthusiasm.

“Wanderer, will you escort Party Favor through the commercial district and help him pick out the supplies we need? They'll give you whatever you need, free of charge. Make the most of it.”

“Gladly.” He motioned to Party Favor. “Come. You are going to have quite the heavy burden to carry, boy.”

“I'll try my best,” he said with a sigh, still grinning the town's widest grin.

Double Diamond approached Starlight sheepishly. “What are we to do while you're gone, Starlight?”

“Until I get back, you're in charge. Just... don't let in any outsiders. Merchants are fine, but I really can't have the town accepting new friends if I'm not around to make sure their intentions are pure. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Excellent. I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job.” She patted him on the head, reassuring him of her confidence in him, because she was fairly sure he needed all the reassurance he could get.

Chapter 2

Party Favor's legs trembled under the weight that had strained his back for many days now. Since he left Our Town, he had no respite for this except at night, when they'd set up camp, or when Starlight wanted a break from walking. The sun made him so dizzy with scorching heat that he could swear made each droplet of sweat from his face sizzle as they touched the sand, and stealing all the moisture from off his tongue and throat.

“Guys,” pleaded Party Favor, “I know it's not break time yet, but-”

“Quiet, boy,” interrupted the Wanderer, “how many times do I have to tell you not to speak unless you are spoken to?”

“But... thirsty... water...”

“Do you not have water to drink?”

“No, sir. My canteen is empty.”

“Hmph. Well, we would not want our pack mule to collapse from heat stroke or dehydration, would we?” He turned to Starlight, “Miss Glimmer, do you have any spare water to offer him?”

“My canteen's about three-quarters empty,” she replied, “and I'm not giving mine up. I'm too important. I'm sure he understands.”

“How close are we to finding groundwater?” asked Party Favor.

“Another question out of you, and we will bury you so you can find out for yourself,” the Wanderer said before turning again to Starlight, “Tell me, Miss Glimmer. Of all the denizens of your town to carry our supplies, why did you choose this moron?”

“He's the only one who isn't useful for anything but carrying things. Had I brought anypony else, it would probably be harder for Double Diamond to manage the town.”

The Wanderer blinked. “That is as good an answer as any, I suppose. But before we move on from the subject, now is as good a time as any to take stock. Seeing as I am the only one here accustomed to traveling in this climate, I may have underestimated how much food and water was needed for this trip.”

“Good idea.” She looked to Party Favor. “Looks like you get to take a break after all. Drop your load and figure out how much of what we have, then come back to us, okay?”

“Perhaps I should do it,” the Wanderer said, “I would have my doubts about his counting abilities even if he was not exhausted from the heat.”

“Fine. Just don't take too long. The sooner I get to be indoors with an electric fan, the better.”

When the Wanderer magically took the supplies off his back and set it on the ground, Party Favor felt a cool current of relief throughout his whole body, as if the weight of the world was literally lifted off his shoulders. He plopped down onto the ground, not even bothered by the searing hot sand beneath him. He shut his eyes, letting the meager breeze flowing through his ear drown out the mumbling sounds of the Wanderer's taking of stock, much like he did the day before volunteering for this quest. The whistling of the breeze was a mother's lullaby to him as his sandy cradle lulled him to sleep.

And like a child, he slept for some time, until he was woken at sunset by a horrific shouting. His eyes flung open, and in front of him, he saw Starlight fuming with anger at the Wanderer.

“We have rations for HOW LONG!?” she yelled.

“Two days,” the Wanderer said.

“And HOW LONG is it until we get to any kind of civilization?”

“About two weeks.”

“Dang it, you old fool! Don't you see? We're going to die out here, and it's all your fault! I'm going to die, and all my life'll have to show for it will be some damned shanty town in the middle of nowhere because I betrayed my better judgment in being drawn into a wild goose chase by some desert nomad and his crazed superstitions.”

“Calm yourself, Miss Glimmer. It is not that big a deal.”

Starlight took a step backward; her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “W-... wha... you really are senile, aren't you? We are going to die out here! How is that not a big deal?”

“I have been wandering these wastes for forty years, remember? Since before anyone in your town was born, by your own admission. Do you think I have not been in this situation many times before? Do you think I could have survived that long if I did not know how to live off the land?”

Starlight took a step back. “How did you hear... aw, forget it. You're gonna lead us to some food and water right now, or you're not gonna live long enough to watch me starve.”

“Conveniently enough, we have stopped just short of a trail that will take us to just that,” he said, pointing to some place on the ground just a stone's throw away. “If you would be so kind, have your simpleton wake up from his nap, then come back to me when you are ready.”

Party Favor, having found his awakening jarring to say the least, fumbled his way up and on his hooves. He tried to rub the crust out of his eyes, but before he could finish, he was bitch-slapped by Starlight, who he'd just spotted in front of him.

“Gather our things,” she bellowed. “We have to follow Mister Desert Schlock here so we don't drop dead in a week.”

Not wanting to anger Starlight further, he rushed to assemble every little thing they brought, down to the last fork and butter knife. The load on his back returned, but at least he felt rejuvenated enough to not complain about it. He went with Starlight to have the Wanderer take them to get what they needed.

“We're ready,” Starlight said to the Wanderer, “now take us to whatever Wasteland flora you have in mind.”

“Very well.” He turned around and pointed to the ground just ahead of him. “Look closely at the sand here. What do you notice?”

Starlight stared intently at the place the Wanderer pointed to. “I see... well, it's too faded for me to know for sure, but it looks like there are some very large footprints, maybe from some gigantic lizard. And some wavy line between those footprints, kind of like a snake, but probably from a tail.”

“Faded as they may be, the fact that they are still visible means they were made very recently. And it is getting dark. Do you know what lizards do when it gets dark, Miss Glimmer?”

“They crawl beneath rocks so they can retain their body heat and avoid predators. I know that from Canterlot University. But why are you taking us to some giant lizard in the first place?”

“I mean you no disrespect, Miss Glimmer, but we should save the less important questions for later. What matters is where there is an animal habitat, there is water. And where there is water, there is likely food.”

“Good point.” She turned to Party Favor. “I've decided. We're following these animal tracks. Let's go. Hopefully, we can get to where we need to before nightfall.”

“Yes, ma'am,” replied Party Favor as they went on their way.

Not too long later, after peaking the crest of a hill, the trio witnessed the spectacular sight of a tiny desert oasis shimmering with the light of the setting sun, which peeked down at it from the horizon. There was some meager plant life surrounding it, and just in front of that, a boulder the size of a small house.

Party Favor laughed heartily, the excitement of this find rushing through his body. “We did it!” he beamed, “We found water!”

“Hold on,” Starlight said, “How do we know this isn't a mirage?”

“The mirage,” the Wanderer replied, “is barely more than a myth.”

"Wow. Really?"

The Wanderer nodded. "Yes. Really. In forty years, I believe one could count the number of times I've had such an experience on a minotaur's hand."

"Huh. Interesting."

"But anyway. Enough of that." He motioned to the boulder. “Destroying that boulder should be a simple task. Can you do it?”

Starlight tapped a hoof to her chest and stubbed up her nose. “Of course I can.”

“I doubt it. A soft little filly like you? Could not destroy a rock even half that size.”

Starlight narrowed her eyes. “I see what you're doing, Wanderer.”

“Do you mind?”

Starlight smirked. “Nah. It's actually kind of endearing. Okay, I'll blow up that rock for you. Just don't get in the way.”

She turned to the rock, positioning herself as her horn glowed brightly with the charging of a mighty missile of magic. After some time, she released it, and like a speeding arrow, it zoomed to the boulder and made it explode in a cloud of dust and debris.

“Excellent work, Miss Glimmer. Clearly, you are of pure noble blood. Now, it is my turn.”

“Your turn? What do you mean?”

“Do not tell me you forgot what was underneath that rock.”

“Oh. Right.”

As the dust settled, a snarling, saber-toothed, bipedal lizard the size of a bear emerged, and let out an earth-shaking roar. The Wanderer lifted the hood of his cloak off his head, and took some steps back to charge the beast. He galloped toward the lizard, leaving a trail of dust before him. As he got close to it, it raised a clawed hand up to eviscerate the Wanderer, but the Wanderer snapped his head in the hand's direction, and with a slicing spell that neither Starlight nor Party Favor had ever seen before, he severed the wrist, making the lizard cry out in pain as the hand plummeted to the ground. Before the lizard could react, the Wanderer got close enough to the lizard to see its scales, and with his horn, he impaled the lizard from just below its ribcage, twisted his horn inside the lizard's chest, then slammed it onto the ground, his horn now red with blood. The lizard now in shock and struggling to breathe, the Wanderer ran to the lizard's head, and began bludgeoning it with his hoof. Again and again, he continued to slam his hoof against the lizard's skull, the lizard's cries and squirms becoming weaker and weaker with each strike. Eventually, the lizard ceased all activity. The Wanderer stopped, taking a moment to relish in his victory.

With his magic, he lifted the lizard's body up and carried it back up the hill to Starlight and Party Favor. Party Favor became nauseous at the sight of the body, and his nose scrunched in disgust.

Starlight blinked. “Well... dang. But why go so close up to it? You could've blasted that thing to bits like I did to that rock, right?”

Party Favor looked questioningly to Starlight. "But wait. You don't even have your cutie mark. How can you do magic like that i-."

The Wanderer interrupted him with a backhoofed slap. "Be quiet. Such questions are not meant for dull minds like yours." He drew his gaze to Starlight. "And to answer your question, Miss Glimmer... I could have, but there really is no fun in that, is there?”

“...fun?”

The Wanderer set the lizard's body down. “I do this for sport. I am sure you are well aware of how boring it can get in the Wasteland.

Even someone as old as me needs a way to entertain himself. It is also an excellent way to stay fed.”

“Stay fed? Are you implying... oh god, what!?”

“What's wrong, Starlight?” asked Party Favor.

“He eats the flesh of dead animals, you idiot! And he expects us to do the same!”

Party Favor shuddered in abject horror and disbelief. “Oh... oh god... I think I...” His stomach keeled over on itself, as if failing to digest what he'd been told. He took some steps back, then vomited profusely onto the ground.

“Now, now, it's not as bad as you think,” the Wanderer said. “It is much more tolerable when cut and prepared properly.”

“Prepare?” Starlight shouted, “It's a corpse!”

“There are many ways to prepare it. Boil, grill, fry, bake...”

“I've heard enough. Maybe you have to resort to this savagery in whatever barbaric land you come from, but in Equestria, we can take any object and turn it into something that's actually edible. Watch...”

Starlight readied her horn for magic, and with a quick zap, she turned the dead lizard's body into a large, neatly stacked pile of ripe pomegranates that glistened underneath the setting sun.

In a split second, the Wanderer's eyes widened; his head shifted itself backward in surprise. His expression went flat just as quickly, and he looked to Starlight. "You are a witch."

Starlight sneered at the Wanderer. "What was that about meaning no disrespect?"

"You performed witchcraft. That makes you a witch."

Starlight groaned. "No. It doesn't. What even is witchcraft, anyway? I'd really like to know."

"I understand your confusion, Miss Glimmer. The line between witchcraft and proper magic is a rather fine one even for those who have read the scriptures...”

"Scriptures, huh?" She paused. "Look. I don't know how you can eat that stuff, but I can't, and neither can Party Favor. You'll just have to deal with witchcraft."

The Wanderer simply nodded.

“I'm glad we're on the same page.” Starlight turned to Party Favor. “You. Refill our canteens. All of them. We want to take advantage of this opportunity as much as possible.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Party Favor.

He trotted towards the oasis. While doing so, he couldn't take his eyes off the lone severed hand that laid down on the sand that had been painted with blood. Although he was too stupid to figure out exactly what Starlight had involved him in, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in for more than what he signed up for.

Chapter 3

“The road to the closest city is just ahead,” the Wanderer said. “We will travel this road up north to the city of Brustworth.”

Party Favor snapped his head up forward, excited to finally have some scenery different from the rolling mounds of the uninhabited Wasteland. To the distance, he just barely made out a mud-brick fort which sat in front of a hill.

“And what about south?” Starlight asked.

“That leads to Goldberg, an iron mining colony. There is nothing of interest there. Supplies would likely be expensive, and we would have to go out of our way to go there.”

“Permission to speak?” asked Party Favor.

“Granted,” replied the Wanderer.

“Is there supposed to be anything else ahead?”

“Not that I recall. Why? What do you see?”

“I see a small town, surrounded by mud-brick wall, all matching the sand's color. Why would a town want to build a wall?”

The Wanderer scoffed at Party Favor's question. Party Favor's heart sank into his chest as he wondered just how dumb a question that was to not even warrant an answer.

“He has a point,” Starlight chimed in, “why would a small town want to build a wall?”

“Miss Glimmer, I would expect this sort of naivety from Party Favor, but from you as well?” He paused. “Perhaps it is because you are Equestrians that you are unaware of such things.”

“What things?”

“There are carnivorous beasts, which you have already seen firsthand. There are also pirates and raiders to look out for. The Wasteland is a harsh place, and it requires those who live in it to be harsh as well. In fact, I would be careful about that settlement up ahead if I were you, because that is likely a raider fortress.”

“How do you know?”

“Notice how it hides itself behind the hills. Even a layman would know that it would be better to build this fortress on top of the hill to make it more defensible, but this would also make it more visible to the caravans that travel down the road nearby. What raiders lack in discipline and organization, they make up for in stealth and surprise. They hunt caravans in much the same way as I hunt saber-toothed lizards. And speaking of stealth...” The Wanderer stopped walking, and motioned for Starlight and Party Favor to do the same. His eyes snapped to a shallow hill slightly to their right. 'What does he see in that hill?' Party Favor thought to himself. Silence loomed over them as the Wanderer gazed at something Party Favor couldn't imagine to be important. “We are being watched,” whispered the Wanderer. “Follow me, and keep your wits about you.”

The Wanderer turned to the left, and with soft and steady tread, the trio moved single-file, making sure they stayed under the hills. Party Favor's heart raced with anxiety despite him not knowing the danger he was supposed to avoid – indeed, the fear of the unknown was what made him anxious. He wanted to ask the Wanderer what was going on, but he feared what the Wanderer would do to him if he spoke out of turn, let alone what this unknown threat might do to him if he didn't heed the Wanderer's warnings. This wasn't helped by the subtle clattering of the load that he carried on his back, which he tried to mitigate by steadying himself. For what felt to him like hours, they navigated the hills, until he jumped at the sudden shout from a hill to his right.

“Stop right there!” A band of six male earth ponies in full-bodied tan leather suits and steel caps descended on them. “This is a robbery. Give us all ya cargo, and we might let ya live.” He spoke in a way that Party Favor couldn't help but find familiar. It reminded him of some bustling metropolis in Equestria he'd visited a few times before, but he couldn't remember what it was called.

“Hold on,” said Starlight, “you wouldn't happen to come from Manehattan, would you?”

'Manehattan,' thought Party Favor to himself, 'that was it.'

The leader of the band whispered with a raider beside him. “You's are from Equestria, too?”

“We are. We all are.”

The raider band huddled together in conference. Party Favor decided it would be best for Starlight to do all the talking. 'Do not speak until spoken to,' he thought to himself.

The raider nudged his head back. “Come with us. Our lead'll probably want to talk to ya. But you's so much as spit in the wrong direction, and we'll reconsider that. Do you's understand?”

Starlight nodded. “We do.”

“A'ight. Come.”

As the three followed the band, they came close to the walled fort that they'd noticed a while back. The vile odor of rotting flesh coming from the other side of the wall penetrated Party Favor's sinuses, and he couldn't stop himself from gagging.

“What is up with that stench?” Starlight whispered to the Wanderer.

“Perhaps they killed some foolish vigilantes or rival pirates trying to take the place by storm, and they just piled them up somewhere outside the walls because they were too lazy to bury or cremate them,” the Wanderer replied.

“Quiet up back there!” yelled the band leader in front of them.

They soon got to the gates on the south side of the fort. There were two sentries, each standing on the two short towers flanking the gate.

“Ay. Shit-stains. Open up,” the band leader shouted up to the sentries.

“Ya wanna explain why you's got a bunch a' scrubs with ya, cock-sucker?” one of the sentries shouted back.

“They's from Equestria, dumbass. They might be willin' to help us out with our little problem.”

“Fuck you.” The sentry looked down to the ground. “Open the gate.”

With the clanging of the gate's iron mechanisms, the gate rose up, and the trio followed the band into the fort. As they entered the city, it took all the self-control that Party Favor could muster to contain the utter dread he felt when he saw what was inside. There he saw, scattered throughout the mess of shanty-town buildings, decomposing corpses, impaled on wooden pikes and swarming with flies. Moving further into the town, he was even more disturbed at the occasional sight of gangs of children playing with the corpses like they were toys, and their nonchalant mothers bantering with each other like there's nothing wrong. But most disturbing of all was that Starlight and the Wanderer both seemed as unbothered by their surroundings as the brigands who called this place home. The Wanderer less so, but the compassionate and loving mayor of Our Town, whom he'd always admired and looked up to? It didn't sit right with him at all. But he volunteered for this, so he figured he shouldn't complain. He was doing it for Our Town.

After the ordeal of walking through the grotesque décor, they made it to the center of town, where there sat a chieftain's mud-brick long house, where a gatekeeper stood vigil next to a lever.

The raider captain glared at the gatekeeper. “Open the door, fuck-face."

The gatekeeper nodded, then switched the lever with a kick. The gate eased itself open.

Starlight brought her smirking lips to the Wanderer's ear to whisper, "These guys swear like sailors, don't they? Not very becoming of an Equestrian."

"They all swear like sailors," the Wanderer replied. "These tryhards probably picked it up from the other raider bands along the road."

They continued onwards.

The design choices for the town hall's interior were as macabre as those of the rest of the town. A row of stuffed ponies' heads on plaques hung on the walls to his left and right. These heads also had signs hanging from their necks, but Party Favor didn't want to know what was written on those signs. In front of him was a large unicorn, clad fully in plate armor that was masterfully casted and articulated, but crudely painted red, except for four lightning bolts, two on each flank, which were painted black. A steel horn with a needle-sized point protruded from the helm, which had the painted and polished skull of a saber-toothed lizard glued on its visor. He sat on a throne made from mud bricks, and he was guarded from the sides by two muscular earth ponies in steel caps and black leather suits, and even further to the sides was a dual staircase.

“Who're these motherfuckers?” the unicorn said in a tin-sounding voice muffled by the helm.

“They's travelers from Equestria.”

“You sure? That big one looks like an Imperial to me. If I find out some turd let an Imperial in here, I'll have ya ass for dinner.”

“They came in from the west, and the mare talks like an Equestrian. He can't be an Imperial.”

“Hm. A'ight. I'll take ya word for it. If he's not an Imperial, then he's prolly high Canterlot nobility. Do you know how big a shit-ton a' money we'd make for ransomin' one a' Celestia's big cheeses?”

The raider captain tilted his head back with a goofy smile. “It's makin' me cream myself just thinkin' about it.”

“Then go jerk off. I don't need ya stickin' around for negotiations.”

Starlight turned to the Wanderer. “Imperial? What's he talking about?” she whispered as the raider band exited the building.

“Citizens of the Empire,” he replied, “they are who I come from. Brustworth is an Imperial city.”

“Ay! Shut up! I got somethin' to say to you's!” the armored unicorn shouted. Starlight looked back at him. “I'll be frank with you's. You's are lucky to be alive, 'cause I already don't like ya. Now, which one a' you's is in charge here?”

“I am,” Starlight replied.

“Okay. Now, I got something I need you's to do for me. But there's somethin' I really wanna know before I tell ya. What the ever-lovin' fuck are Equestrians doin' in this shit-heap?”

“I'm an ambassador for the Equestrian government. The big one next to me is my bodyguard, and the other one is my servant. We were going up north to discuss a trade agreement with the Empire.”

The armored unicorn let out a bellowing laugh. “Imperials? Discussin' trade?” He laughed more. “Sounds to me like Celestia wanted to get rid a' you's and didn't wanna do it herself. Ya better hope that bodyguard a' yours can win twenty-to-one against the Kaiser's Praetorians, at least!”

“If the Empire didn't accept Equestrian emissaries, then why would his... Praetorians... have to fight us?”

The unicorn laughed even harder. “Ah, geez, do I got a story to tell ya. But first, lemme preface it with a bit a' our own history.” He cleared his throat. “Now, we ain't no pushovers ourselves. We's the Jackals. We's straight outta the fuckin' Manehattan Supermax Penitentiary. That's right. We broke out twenty years ago. We's a big, fat horde a' Equestria's worst murderers, robbers, rapists, and drug peddlers... any Equestrian's worst nightmare. We bobbed and weaved our way past the Royal Equestrian Army, 'cause the cops clearly didn't cut it. Since then, we's made a name for ourselves as one a' the most notorious raider gangs out there. And you know what? We AIN'T FUCKIN' SHIT next to Imperials.

"Consider this. You's got ya bodyguard over there. He's a big sack a' shit, right? Imagine him bein' born to a family of equally big sacks a' shit. It starts right at birth. The Empire has a whole government institution whose sole fuckin' purpose is to look at newborn foals to make sure they's considered 'fit and deserving of life'. If the state thinks the brat is weak or sickly in any way, they just throw the fuckin' thing away like yesterday's garbage.

"Now, daddy probably ain't ever around 'cause he's forced to be in the army 'till age sixty. And momma? Momma's gonna beat his ass up for even so much as lookin' at her favorite vase the wrong way, let alone tippin' it over and breakin' it, which likely constitutes a death sentence for the little brat. And if he's got any brothers or sisters, he's prolly beatin' up or gettin' beat up by them, too. Momma don't even bother feedin' them after they've outgrown sucklin' her teats, so they gotta scavenge or steal for food.

"And that's just the beginnin'. Age six, if he ain't dead, he goes to boot camp. And it's the worst fuckin' boot camp you can imagine. Daily rations are vinegar and stale bread; if he wants anything else, he's gotta steal it. And if he gets caught, he gets a hundred lashes, and that's if Drill Sergeant Nasty is feelin' generous. Not for stealin', mind ya, but for gettin' caught, 'cause this piss-ant has been encouraged and taught from birth to lie, cheat, and steal. And the trainin' itself is so fuckin' tough that even the Equestrian Special Forces would run the ever-lovin' fuck away from it. This goes double if he's lucky – or unlucky, dependin' on ya view a' the world – enough to be proven good enough to be in the First Cohort. Which, by the way, is where the Kaiser's Praetorians are drawn from, and only one out a' ten a' these sacks a' shit get to be in the First Cohort. He ain't taught nothin' 'cept how to kill, maim, torture, march in formation, and live off the Wasteland. This is all the way through to age twenty-two, when he goes through graduation, which consists a' one half a' the graduates fightin' the other half in a one-on-one fight to the death. First Cohort recruits are forced to fight other First Cohort recruits, just so they don't get complacent. Once he goes through all this, he gets to be a low-rankin' nobody in an organization where everyone else went through the same hell he did.

"Now, imagine twenty thousand of these assholes, and they all worship a fuckin' psycho sadistic war god who damns them to eternal hellfire when they die except if they're killed in battle. And they're slave-drivin', xenophobic racists to boot. That's the Imperial Army. That's an Imperial. No matter how tough ya think ya are, he will shit fury on you and you will drown in it.

"If ya ain't pissed ya self yet, you's is probably wonderin' what all this has to do with ya question. In case you still have to ask, it's this: the Kaiser only accepts Equestrian ambassadors so he can have his Praetorians hack the poor sons a' bitches to pieces for his amusement.”

Starlight stood there silent, dumbfounded at the idea that such a society could exist. Party Favor was even more dumbfounded, as his mind simply blanked out about halfway through the armored unicorn's tirade.

“Is... is this true?” Starlight whispered to the Wanderer.

“It is,” he coldly replied.

“Now, don't turn away right now,” the armored unicorn continued, “I still got some use for you's. Whether or not you's wanna commit suicide-by-Praetorian, ain't my business, I don't care. But before ya do, I need you's to help me out.”

“Well, what did you have in mind?” Starlight asked.

“We got a problem 'round here with disease. A lot a' us are gettin' sick. We dunno from what, and we dunno what disease this is, but Brustworth up north prolly has medicine for us. We want you's to go get medicine from there and bring it back to us.”

“And what if we don't want to?”

“Then I'll do to you's what the Kaiser woulda done to you's anyway.”

Starlight pondered this for a moment, then turned to the Wanderer to whisper.

“Well, what do you wanna do?”

“I would rather not help these wastrels with a problem that they have inflicted upon themselves,” the Wanderer whispered back.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you not figured it out yet? They put corpses up on display within the walls of their own fort, and leave them to rot. No doubt a misguided attempt at intimidation, seeing as you Equestrians have an irrational aversion to death and suffering. However, even the most dim-witted Imperial will tell you that a decomposing corpse will spread disease. For this reason, it is common practice for the Empire to hurl rotting, mangled corpses behind the walls of cities they are besieging. Did they not teach you this in your university?”

“Hm. You have a point. So, we kill them all?”

“We kill them all.”

“I wanna see this guy get a fit of idiot rage first. I'm guessing your accent is Imperial, so I'll let you tell him off.”

“Fine.” The Wanderer turned to the armored unicorn. “We refuse your offer, and we will enjoy slaughtering you and the rest of your cowards.”

The armored unicorn slammed his hoof on the armrest of his throne. “An Imperial!? THAT MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Not only have you failed to identify a member of that most noble of nations that you so deeply fear, but you have also stolen First Cohort valor by scavenging and bastardizing First Cohort armor. So now you will die, and I will take that armor you are wearing for myself, because unlike you, I have earned the right to wear that armor.”

The armored unicorn jolted in terror. “G-guards! Kill them! Kill them NOW!”

Before the guards could respond, Starlight and the Wanderer simultaneously charged their horns, and launched their missiles at the bodyguards, who then blew up into red, sticky pieces that scattered throughout the room, some of them landing on the pirate leader's armor. The pirate shook in his armor as Starlight and the Wanderer inched towards him, making the armor clatter. “D-don't hurt me! I'll pay you whatever you want!” the pirate pleaded.

“Degenerate,” the Wanderer spat, “You hear that sound of the different pieces of armor clanging against each other, Miss Glimmer?”

“I do.”

“That is because the armor fits him loosely. He does not have the musculature to wear it properly. His body is as weak as his will.” He magically lifted the pirate up from his throne, and flipped him upside-down. The pirate abruptly shifted in the loose-fitting armor. The Wanderer then, after lifting the hooks that connected the helm's saber-toothed visor to its sallet, peeled the visor off the pirate's face, revealing his black coat that stunk of fear, and red eyes that begged for mercy. “Killing you quickly would be rather boring. Miss Glimmer, have you ever seen a Blood Fountain?”

“No! NO!!!” the pirate screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I haven't seen one of those... but I'd really like to.”

“It is one of the Dark Arts that every Imperial is taught in his training. A very basic technique. One simply turns the subject in over his head, and increases blood pressure to such a degree that blood bursts from the head's orifices. Observe...”

The pirate's breathing grew very fast and very short, and his unnaturally rapid heartbeat was audible even through the armor. The whites of the pirate's eyes were also getting more and more red by the second to match their irises. The flow of blood from his nostrils trickled with increasing intensity. Eventually, the pirate's blood vessels couldn't take it anymore; with a loud pop, his eyes imploded like over-filled balloons, and the flaccid, shattered eyeballs hung down by their nerves as powerful torrents of blood sprayed from the sockets to the ground several yards away. Party Favor could only shut his eyes and turn his body away from the sight, but the droplets of blood that splattered onto him were kind enough to remind him of what was going on.

“Oh, Wanderer, you just have to teach me that trick sometime!” Starlight gushed. “I wonder. Does it work on just anyone?”

“Only the weak-willed. Weakness of will is relative, of course. A more powerful Dark Artist can use it on more ponies than a less powerful one. In this case, even the lowliest Dark Artist could have done it.”

“Do you think I could do it?”

“Given proper training, I am sure you could.”

“Do teach it to me sometime. I'm gonna go upstairs to see what I can find. Any pirate worth his salt has lots of booty.”

“Take as much time as you like. I will probably have to cleanse this degenerate's armor of feces before donning it.”

Starlight giggled. “You weren't kidding when you said you'd take that armor, were you?”

“Why would I kid about something like that? And furthermore, why would I pass up this opportunity to armor myself?”

“Good point. They probably have an armory up there. Maybe I can find a leather suit that's my size.”

Party Favor, continuing to shield his eyes from the ordeal, had to do everything in his power to keep the shock from turning him into a broken husk. He focused on the thunder of Starlight's excited galloping and the cheerfulness of her laughter, and tried to ignore the odor of fresh excrement that the Wanderer rightly assumed he'd have to clean off the armor. He tried to find solace in the fact that Starlight was happy even though it was abundantly clear by now that she wasn't the mare he thought she was. He couldn't fail her. He volunteered to go on this quest for her. For her, and for Our Town. However, he was literally slapped back into reality by a metal-clad hoof. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw that the Wanderer had already put the armor on himself.

“Moron,” he barked, his harsh voice muffled by the helm, “instead of standing around in this mess that traumatizes you so much, how about you go upstairs and help Miss Glimmer with gathering the loot? I am sure she would appreciate it, and it is probably cleaner up there.”

Without uttering a word, Party Favor whipped himself around and bolted upstairs. He had no choice but to shut down his already feeble mind and filter out as much of the situation as he could without losing his sanity. He could remember a few key things, like the treasure chests full of golden coins that were stuffed into bags – that he had to carry on top of everything else, of course; the black leather suit, and how Starlight just loved how snugly it fit and how sharp it looked on her; the last screams of the pirate lord's concubines before Starlight mercilessly butchered them; and lastly, and perhaps more solemnly, the warmth of Starlight's embrace when she finally noticed how all this had been affecting him, and her seemingly heartfelt reassurances to him, although he couldn't recall even the gist of what she told him, let alone have an opinion on how genuine it was. His senses were becoming even more hazy by the time the Wanderer had come upstairs to check on him and Starlight. He heard the two chat briefly, and heard Starlight laugh before they both galloped back down the stairs, presumably to complete the task of killing everyone and everything in this raider fortress. He took that as unspoken permission to retreat fully into his own mind. His happy place – which, at this point, was anywhere but here.

Chapter 4

Party Favor peaked the crest of the next hill with Starlight beside him. His legs trembled underneath him now more than ever. The memories of what happened mere days ago weighed more heavily on him than the load on his back ever could. Yet, he did not falter, for to show weakness or ask for respite would be to invoke the Wanderer's cold wrath. And with increasing regularity, Starlight's fiery wrath. Party Favor looked to his side, at some of the bruises and scars he'd received for this sort of behavior. One of them, a scar, had an ugly purple hue. It was his newest one which, unlike most of them, was inflicted by Starlight. He got it for protesting her taking his canteen without his consent. It was the one that cut the deepest.

They stopped at the crest. Starlight got giddy with laughter. “This… this is a road. And a town.” She laughed some more. “We did it! We made it to the road!” She sighed. “I'm so happy to see civilization again.”

Party Favor looked in front of him. In the distance, he saw a town, perhaps only two or three times the size of Our Town, built of mud brick along a dirt paved road that ran left and right as far as he could see. It was bordered by a brick palisade.

“So it is,” the Wanderer said. “The road is dotted with settlements like these. Mostly for the caravans' sakes.”

Starlight's face beamed with joy. “Really? So I can cool off under an electric fan now?”

“To tell you the truth, I have never even heard of an electric fan. Or an electric anything for that matter.” Starlight's smile went flat. “I apologize, Miss Glimmer. I do not mean to disappoint. But I must ask. What is 'electric' anyway?”

Starlight sighed. “Electricity. It's a power source. It makes things do stuff. Your world doesn't have electricity?”

“I do not think so.”

“Oh. Okay. Fine.” She continued on her way to the down. “As if I didn't have enough things to complain about,” she muttered.

Once inside the town, Party Favor and Starlight looked around to notice their surroundings. A few of the buildings had fallen to collapse from neglect, and the rest of them had various kinds of bodily filth festering just under their windows, many of which had their glass panes broken or missing, and all of which were stained with dirt. Single-file lines of hardy unicorn soldiers, built with the same size and stature as the Wanderer, patrolled the streets; they were donned in steel chainmail suits and stahlhelms with nasal and eye pieces covering their faces. The patrols were few, however, and those that were there tended to casually ignore the screams of terror that sometimes echoed from dark alleyways and abandoned ruins.

A grumbling sound came from Starlight's belly. “Wanderer, I'm hungry. Do they have food here?”

The Wanderer blinked. “I would be surprised if they did not. Why don't you ask one of the locals?”

Starlight nodded.  “Alright. I'll ask one of the town guards.”

“I would not approach them if I were you. They are Imperial soldiers. They do not take kindly to foreigners.”

Starlight scoffed, then started her way up to a guard who stood stationary beside the palisade exit. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be? Equestrian guards don't like foreigners either, but they're still helpful sometimes.”

The Wanderer drew his gaze to Party Favor, who slunk down demurely and looked away from him. One of the Wanderer's eyes twitched once. He followed Starlight to the guard. Party Favor followed him.

Once up close to the guard, Starlight looked up at him with a polite smile. “Excuse me, sir. Can you point me to the nearest food joint? I'm not from around here.”

The guard ignored her. His countenance was unmoving.

Starlight tried again. “Excuse me? Sir? Can you tell me where I can find some food?”

The guard was still silent.

Starlight's smile went flat. “Excuse me?” She rose a hoof up and tapped him on the chest.

With a sneer on his face, the guard swiped her hoof away from him with his own and shoved Starlight away with it; she fell to the ground, on her side.

The guard snorted. “Begone, little bitch,” he barked in a guttural bass similar to the Wanderer's. “Piss off before I rend your stupid head from your neck.”

Starlight growled in anger. She bolted back up on her hooves and charged her horn to attack. “You'll pay for that!”

The Wanderer walked calmly between the guard and Starlight, who ceased her horn's glow. “Please excuse her,” he said to the guard. “She really is not from around these parts. Not even from one of our client states.”

The guard looked to the Wanderer. “She acts like a Byzuntonian aristocrat.”

“But she is not. She is an Equestrian aristocrat. Can you not tell by her accent, son?”

“Hm. I have never met an Equestrian before. I would not know an Equestrian accent.” He snorted. “What are you doing with this barbarian scum?” He glanced at Party Favor. “Bodyguard?”

The Wanderer nodded. “Yes. Bodyguard.”

The guard chuckled. “I bet these cretins paid you a fortune. You being First Cohort and all. Her house's coffers must be empty from buying your services. I also bet she has the birch waiting for her back home once she'd done with her little Wasteland escapade. Not like that's your problem, huh?” He laughed and gave the Wanderer a playful poke at the chest.

The Wanderer blinked. “In any case. My client here gets deathly cranky when she is hungry. Perhaps you know of a place where an Equestrian noble will not gag at the stench of the produce?”

The guard nodded. “Sure. I know a place like that. Cheaper, too.” He chuckled. “Foreigners go to places near the road where they serve utter trash for the price of prime veal. It is too funny. Anyway…” He pointed to a street to the side of the main road. “You want to go down that way. Take the second right, then go up until you get to the intersection with the auction booth to the upper left. Once there, make a right. It will be the second building to the left. Did you get all that?”

“I did. And you are sure this is not an Imperial-exclusive place?”

“I am sure.”

The Wanderer nodded. “Very good. Thank you, young legionary.”

“Of course. Anything for a retired First Cohort.” The guard put his right hoof across his chest, then flew it outward, in the Imperial salute. Once the Wanderer saluted him back, they both let their hooves down.

The Wanderer turned away from the guard, then walked up to Starlight. “Are you alright, Miss Glimmer?”

Starlight groaned. “Does every one of your kind treat foreign ponies like that?”

“Of course not.” He paused. “Many of them would not have even bothered to warn you before they went to decapitate you.”

“Isn't that illegal or something?”

“I am afraid not. An Imperial may kill a non-Imperial with impunity, legally speaking. The barbarians are second-class citizens at the very best. This is why an Imperial bodyguard is such a wonderful thing for a foreigner to have. If the Imperial who would seek to harm you killed your bodyguard, he would be a marked stallion for having done so, which means he will, in most cases, not make the attempt.”

Party Favor quivered in place; his breathing went heavy and unsteady. “I wanna get out of here. This p-place is sss-s-s-scary.”

Starlight glared at Party Favor. “Shut your mouth.” She watched Party Favor purse his lips, then looked back to the Wanderer. “Alright. Let's go. I'm in the mood for soup.”

The Wanderer nodded. “Very well. Follow me then, Miss Glimmer. I do not want you lost here.”

After a bit of time of walking down the streets, passing by a couple starving beggars with empty donation bowls beside them, Party Favor heard a shouting from an assembly of ponies from the upper left of the intersection. He looked there, and saw an old Imperial stallion with a white beard tied into one big braid, speaking down to an audience from a stage with two guards at his sides, and six guards posted at a perimeter around the crowd. At the back of the stage were rows of ponies – mare and stallion; adult and child; unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony – in shackles and chains.

Starlight stopped and looked at the congregation. The Wanderer and Party Favor stopped with her.

Starlight looked up at the Wanderer. “What is this?”

The Wanderer looked down at Starlight. “Remember when I said that barbarians were second-class citizens at the very best?”

Starlight nodded. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Those who are not second-class citizens are slaves. Property, to be bought and sold. These towns along the road tend to have slave auctions in abundance due to their proximity to brigand settlements.”

Party Favor felt illness brew in his stomach. The very idea of ponies being bought and sold like livestock did that to him.

Starlight glanced at the auction stage. “Can I go up there? I'm a bit curious. We don't have slavery in Equestria.” She smirked. “I always wondered what it'd be like to own a slave.”

“Sure. We can spend a few minutes there.”

Party Favor followed them up to the bidding place. The closer he came to it, the sicker his stomach felt. The shackled mares and stallions up there had grim frowns and hopeless looks in their eyes. He looked to Starlight in the hope that her face would show some signs of sadness. But it did not. Starlight observed the stage as she would have observed a museum exhibit. Yet another sliver of hope was lost in him.

When he got close enough, he could hear the auctioneer's words more clearly. “Sold! To the mysterious hooded stallion from Belogorsk. Next up, a male earth pony. In its late teens. Former caravan guard; taken by raiders and gelded. Hah! No need to worry about it getting feisty or lusty with your wives, folks. It'll pull your wagons and carry your supplies on its back with minimal whipping. The bid starts at one-hundred schillings.”

A voice from the crowd shouted, “One-hundred-ten schillings.”

Another shouted, “One-hundred-twenty-five schillings.”

“I'll pay one-hundred-fifty!”

After a moment of silence, the auctioneer pointed at the highest bidder. “One-hundred-fifty going once… going twice… sold! To the chubby mare from Brustworth.”

Party Favor looked up at the stage. To his chagrin, he watched as the gelding slave was pulled by a guard's magical grip on the chain around his neck downstage, where his new owner waited for him. Another slave was then pulled from the back of the stage. A unicorn mare. A very, very pretty unicorn mare.

“Our next offer,” the auctioneer said, “is this fine young piece of meat, captured from a Byzuntonian caravan. It's in its mid-to-late teens, with pretty eyes and a bouncy flank. This one was born to be a bed-slave, folks! To all you stallions out there without much luck with the ladies, your schilling's in this week! Assuming you have the coin to pay for it.” He laughed. “Bid starts at two-hundred schillings.”

“I'll pay two-hundred-fifty schillings.”

“Three-hundred! Three-hundred schillings!”

“No, I'll pay three-hundred-fifty.”

“Four-hundred!”

A moment of silence. “Four-hundred going once… going twice… sold! To the elderly stallion with the navy-blue coat.”

Party Favor forced himself to watch as the young mare was pulled downstage. He could faintly see the tears welling in her eyes. He felt his own eyes start to tear up, but he forced them back, and swallowed his sadness.

Another slave came up stage. It was a unicorn filly, no older than eight, with a bruised eye and a purple scar across her cheek.

“This one's a special offer. It's not every day a filly's got parents too dumb or too uncaring to let it get picked up by slavers. This one looks like a promising bed-slave folks! You can break it in before it even hits puberty… if you're into that sort of thing. Bid starts at one-hundred-seventy-five schillings.”

Party Favor felt the festering illness in his stomach turn to a boiling rage at the thought of a filly being put through that. He snapped his gaze to Starlight. “Come on,” he whispered. “This isn't right. We have to do something about this!”

Starlight looked indifferently to Party Favor. “No.”

“Come. On. It's a little filly. You did all those raiders in, so why not these horrible slavers?”

Starlight blinked. “We would have nothing to gain from it.”

Party Favor narrowed his eyes, then raised his voice. “What about doing the right thing, huh? This is slavery for Celestia's sake! Don't you see that?”

Starlight groaned. “Don't make a scene. You're acting foolish.”

“Well you know what?” Party Favor screamed. “I'm gonna make a scene! THIS IS WRONG!”

All the crowd looked curiously to Party Favor and Starlight. Party Favor stood there fuming in anger, compounded a moment after with slight embarrassment. Suddenly, he felt his throat constricted by a beige aura. As he struggled for air, his head was forced to face the Wanderer, whose horn glowed with the same beige aura.

“You idiot,” he snapped. “I will not have you make fools of us in public. If you continue to act this way, then I will geld you on the very spot on which you stand, then I will drag you up to the stage and auction you as a slave for one schilling. Is that understood?”

Fear struck Party Favor's heart like a knife. His anger was swapped with terror. 'Oh god,' Party Favor thought. 'He'll actually do it,

won't he? I gotta do what he says. I don't have a choice.' He looked at the Wanderer with pleading eyes.

Once Party Favor felt the grip on his throat loosen, he gasped for air, then said, “Alright, alright! I won't speak out against slavery anymore, I swear!”

The Wanderer dissipated the auras on his horn and on Party Favor's neck. “Good. Remember: Only speak when you are spoken to. Follow this simple rule, and situations like this will be averted.”

Starlight groaned. “Come on. Let's go.” She walked out of the auction in a huff. “I'm really disappointed in you, Party Favor.” She sighed and shook her head. “I've never felt this embarrassed before in my life.”

A lively duet of two wooden flutes served as background music for the patrons who sat in stools along a bar, and on chairs set up near wooden tables. All but a few of them drank half-liters of ale from clay mugs, and only a few of them partook in various sorts of bread, soups, and salads. One table had a group of three Imperial guards, who indulged on turkey legs.

Party Favor watched as Starlight sauntered over to a bar stool with a smile on her face, and the Wanderer followed her.

The Wanderer magically gripped a stool and pulled it back for Starlight. “After you, my well-paying client.”

Starlight chuckled. “Thank you, my kind and dutiful bodyguard.” She sat on the stool and looked to the bartender – a unicorn stallion – to her right, who had just finished refilling another patron's drink.

The bartender looked back at her and approached her with a polite smile. “Hello there, ma'am. I've never seen you around these parts. Are you new?” He had an accent that reminded one of olives and competitive sports.

“I am,” Starlight replied. “I'm from Equestria.”

“Oh, are you? We don't get a lot of them here. Equestrians, I mean. Is it really as nice as they say it is?”

“Hm? How so?”

“Well, they say Equestria has clean streets. And good-paying jobs. And hardly any crime. Is all that true?”

Starlight nodded. “Yep. It's all true.”

The bartender gestured to the other patrons. “Well, what are you doing in this place? Here to remind yourself how good you have it over there?”

“Mmm. No. I have other reasons.”

The bartender nodded. “Oh. Okay, then. So what can I get you guys today?”

Starlight put a hoof to her chin. “Hmm. What kind of food do you have? I'm a bit peckish.”

“Can I recommend the house soup? It's a cabbage soup in a spicy tomato broth. One of our most popular dishes.”

“Oh, I was in the mood for soup! Sounds good. I'll get that, and the house ale.”

“Alright. The house soup and the house ale for the lady.” He looked to the Wanderer. “And for you, sir?”

“For me,” the Wanderer said, “I want a flagon of the Brustworth lager.”

The bartender nodded, then looked to Party Favor. “And for you?”

The Wanderer put a hoof to Party Favor's chest and pushed him back a couple paces. “You will get him nothing.”

The bartender chuckled. “Okay, then. House soup and ale for the lady, Brustworth lager for the sir, and nothing for dopey-looking slave. I'll be back in a few minutes with the drinks, the food, and the bill.” With that, the bartender walked to a wooden door behind the counter, then opened the door and left, shutting the door behind him.

Starlight looked to the Wanderer with a smile. “So. Brustworth lager, huh? What is a lager, anyway?”

“You don't have lager in Equestria?”

Starlight shook her head. “No. We don't.”

“It is the Empire's national brew,” he replied. “It is a stout and crisp sort of beer. Aside from her superior Legions and her superior work ethic, the Empire is known for her brew.”

“Can I have a sip of it when it's here?”

“Sure. I do not see why not.”

“And while we're waiting… why don't you tell me a story?”

The Wanderer blinked. “A story, Miss Glimmer?”

“Yeah. A story. Don't you older stallions always have some personal anecdote you like telling us younger ponies?”

“I might have a few interesting ones. What kind of stories do you like?”

“You're a war veteran, right?”

The Wanderer nodded. “I am quite old. Even older than I look, if you can believe it. I am a veteran of several wars. You… would like to hear a war story?”

Starlight smiled wider, then nodded.

“Very well. Let me tell you of the time I escaped from a Changeling prisoner-of-war holding chamber when I was a tent-leader. Or, sergeant, if you prefer.” He cleared his throat. “You see, when the Changeling Queen, Chrysalis, had been newly coroneted, the Empire thought it in her best interest to attack the Changeling hive past the mountain range to the south, to the volcanic wastes below, while she was still young and inexperienced. I, as an elite shock trooper, was tasked wi-”

“Hey!” interrupted a male voice from the right side, with the same accent as the bartender. It was a male earth pony, who glared at Starlight with bloodshot eyes and veins popping in his forehead. He brandished his teeth in a grimace, and around his nostrils was a fine red powder. “I don't like your face.”

Starlight looked to the angry stallion. “Sorry.”

The enraged one snarled like a wolf. “You dunno who you're talking to. Do you know who I am? DO YOU!?” He paused. “I have the DEATH. SENTENCE. In every single city-state of the Federation of Byzuntonia, and the Ruusonian prince, himself, put a price on my head. You know what that means, girl?”

Starlight chuckled. “That your ugliness is a crime worthy of capital punishment?”

“You'll be dead!”

The Wanderer stepped up between Starlight and the mad buffoon. “This little one is not worth the effort. Perhaps a drink will calm your nerves?”

With a frenzied scream, the furious stallion stood up on his hind legs and made an attempt to grab the Wanderer's neck with his forelegs. But the Wanderer made a quick backhoofed swing at his ribs; it was a blur that made a loud crack echo in the pub and sent the angry one collapsing on the floor on his side. The Wanderer's horn glowed, and as soon as the berserker found an aura around his neck, his head was ripped off from it with an audible tearing of skin, muscle, and organ. Blood from the headless body formed a pool on the floor beneath it, and the severed head's face twitched for a couple seconds before its life escaped it.

Starlight had a laugh at the dead moron's expense. The others in the crowd looked curiously, and a few shared in Starlight's laughter, including the three Imperials who dined on turkey legs.

The bartender shouted from the other side of the wooden door. “Can't you idiots take your fights outside? How am I supposed to run a business when I have corpses littering the floor? Argh!”

The crowd had a collective chuckle, then went back to their normal routines, as if nothing happened.

The Wanderer sighed and shook his head, then looked back to Starlight. “Anyway. Back to the story…”

Chapter 5

Party Favor had been traveling along the road with Starlight for quite a few days now. The tremors and the numbing in his legs had mostly subsided. He could now recover his energy and refill his canteen at the various rest stops dotted along the road, and the muscles, themselves, had adapted to the weight on his back just as his skin had to the blistering heat from the sun above. Not only that, but the advice the Wanderer gave him actually worked. "Don't speak until spoken to." It'd taken him a bit of time to get used to keeping himself quiet unless it was absolutely necessary for him to talk, but once he'd mastered it, he suddenly found himself with fewer scars and bruises on his hide. Still, the memories haunted him, and the nightmares made his rest uneasy. Misery still weighed him down.

“Brustworth is just a few hours away,” the Wanderer told Starlight and Party Favor as they exited the last rest area.

“Wanderer, there's something I've been wondering for a while now,” said Starlight.

“Ask away.”

“Your Empire has its citizens serve in the army for sixty years, right?”

“That is true. Is there something peculiar you find about that?”

“Well, yeah. How is that even sustainable? How can you have everyone who's not a senior citizen be in the army and still have a functioning economy? And how can anyone over forty even be fit to be a soldier? It seems like you'd have a huge chunk of your Legionaries being too racked with ailments like arthritis and whatnot to be effective at all. In fact, I'm surprised YOU aren't affected by that kind of thing.”

“The answers to those questions are quite simple. Firstly, all of the mundane labors essential to maintain a functioning economy are done by slaves that are carefully bred and raised for their station. Secondly, we Imperials do not age in the same way as you Equestrians.”

“What do you mean 'not age in the same way'?”

“You Equestrians, even with your easygoing lifestyles, normally expire before ninety, am I correct?”

Starlight nodded. “Yeah.”

“Through thousands of years of constantly sculpting ourselves into better beings through ever-evolving quality standards for members of our own population, we have, among other things, extended our life expectancies by more than double compared to yours. As those of your ilk are lucky to make ninety, it is common for an Imperial to live for over two-hundred years, and we suffer age-related ailments much later as well.”

Starlight pursed her lips as her eyelids dropped down halfway. “...you're joking.”

“I am not. As a wild animal can be selectively bred to fill a specific purpose, so too can a sapient being. The Lord commands us, as a nation, to be the most fit to carry out His will on the battlefield; eugenics has been a valuable part of that from the very beginning. You may even consider us a different sub-species entirely.”

“This place gets weirder the more I hear about it. So, what else should I know about your 'sub-species'?”

“In addition to living longer, we also heal at a faster rate, can continue fighting through wounds that would prove fatal to any Equestrian, are less sensitive to pain, can live without food or water for longer periods of time, have denser skeletons and tougher skins, and muscles that are both denser and greater in size.”

“Wow. Life isn't very fun for you guys, is it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Just curious: how old are you?”

“One hundred and four.”

“So you'd been out of the army for four years before you started wandering the wastes?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“I was a Centurion. I was paid better than the vast majority of civilians. And by the time I turned sixty, the Empire was on Crusade. The Saracens were preparing for an invasion of Ruusonia, and the Kaiser thought it in our best interest to launch a preemptive strike to catch them off guard. Many citizens of the Empire were conscripted back into the Legions for this.”

“Saracens?”

“Saddle Arabians, as you call them. The Empire's animosity towards them goes back quite a long time.”

“How did your Crusade go?”

“It was going splendidly. At least, it was at first. As you may have already guessed, a significant drawback of our extreme focus on quality means that we are unable to field a large number of troops. This is why we keep client states. They give us auxiliaries of lesser quality to fill the battle lines so that the Legions can win glory without having to worry about being enveloped or cut off from supply lines.”

“Well, what happened?”

“What often happens in extended campaigns. Morale suffered, mostly among the auxiliaries, who were never too reliable to begin with. The Saracens whittled our numbers down by attrition, harassing our supply lines and chipping away at our ranks with hit-and-run skirmishing. They dared not engage us in pitched battle. Many auxiliaries deserted. The more the lines thinned, the more we had to shrink them to ensure reasonable depth. After years of campaign, the Saracens came down on us from the hills. The great Saracen horde surrounded us, their arrows blotting out the sun and their ranks reaching as far as the eye could see. We fought valiantly, and had slain a great many of them, but it was not enough.”

“What did you do?”

The Wanderer drawed a deep, long breath, then sighed. “I committed a sin most vile, and one that the Empire would surely put me to death for if she still remembered it after all these years. My comrades' ranks broken, and my spirits weary, I fled the field, rather than face death valiantly with my sons and brothers in arms. I casted my armor aside in shame and dishonor, and I'd exiled myself to the uninhabited Wasteland ever since.”

“When we first met, you told me you were seeking redemption. Is this why? Is this what you want to redeem yourself for?”

“Yes.”

“And you do this by helping me wage war against your own country?”

“That is how it must be done.”

“Can I confide in you now, Wanderer? It's only fair.”

“Of course.”

“I envy you, you know. Unlike you, I was, at least among my peers... unexceptional.” She winced at that last word, as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I wanted to have a career in academics that I could be proud of. That everyone else in Canterlot would look upon throughout the ages in awe and majesty. But that just didn't pan out.” Her eyes began to well with tears. “I never made it into the Academy for Gifted Unicorns. I never got Celestia to notice me. I never got to be special. So I got my Master's in Alteration Magic and founded my own community where nobody would be special. It was only then that I felt friendship and harmony. But even then, I still felt like something was missing.”

“Your mark on history.”

“Yeah.”

“That is the thing about history. Without struggle, history remains stagnant. All history is the history of struggle, and perseverance in the face of adversity is what makes us worthy of history's memory.”

“So what are you saying?”

“There is no movement without contradiction, and history is no exception. Scripture tells us this. Each iteration of all pony society is sublated by a more harmonious one, which, necessarily, means a more authoritarian one. First we lived as tribes, then as confederations of tribes, then as city-states, then as oligarchies, and now as autocracies. Given the presence of conflict – a necessarily inharmonious phenomenon – within our society, this overarching conflict between order and chaos has yet to reach its final conclusion. It is a historical inevitability that we will one day destroy this old system of autocracy, and replace it with a revolutionary new system that will be fundamentally more harmonious than any of those before it. Perhaps the removal of these marks, these brands that are burned on our flesh by Destiny, is the first step towards this new system.

"What that means for you is this: be grateful for this opportunity that you have been given. Your failure in the past has put you on the path to a far more glorious future. Should we succeed, your mark on history will be greater than you ever thought possible.”

Starlight stopped walking, and paused for a moment to ponder the thought. Party Favor's mind being dense, it was numb throughout the conversation, as shown by the glazed look in his eyes as he and the Wanderer stopped at the same time. Starlight then put on a smile beaming with joy, and she embraced the Wanderer in a hug.

“I hadn't thought about it that way. Thank you, Wanderer. You made me feel a lot better.”

The Wanderer pulled his head back slightly. “What is this?” he asked. He turned his head to Party Favor. “Tell me what she's doing.”

Party Favor snapped himself out of his numb state of mind, surprised that the Wanderer, of anyone, would ask him a question like that. “She's hugging you,” he replied.

“Hugging? Is this another strange Equestrian custom?”

“Um, you're supposed to hug her back.”

He looked back at Starlight, who was still latched onto him. He raised a reluctant armor-clad hoof, wrapped it around Starlight's back, and gave it a weak rub. “Like this?” asked the Wanderer.

“It's a good start,” answered Starlight before releasing him. She let out a puff, then tensed her face into a stern expression. “We better keep going. We've been sentimental for far too long already.”

“Agreed. We should get to Brustworth before nightfall.” The three continued their trek north.

After some time of walking, a familiar stench hit Party Favor like a hammer on a nail. It was the same stench that he encountered outside the walls of the Jackals' fort. The memories he'd been trying to repress came rushing back to him, and fear consumed him. In a panic, he screamed, and ducked his head into the ground while covering his eyes with both front hooves.

“What is it now?” the Wanderer snapped.

The simpering mess that he was, Party Favor could only point forward in the hope that he would see something.

“Get up, you idiot. The smell of corpses is something you will have to get used to. Have you forgotten where you are, and why you are here?”

He collected himself to the best of his ability. He was in the Wasteland, the worst place he'd ever known, and he was there for Our Town.

“Now that you mention it, I do notice something peculiar. Those look like crosses up ahead, but I do not know why there would be so many in one place.”

“Crosses?” Starlight asked.

“Keep moving. You will see what I mean.”

As the three moved farther up north, the stench grew more pungent, and the figures ahead became more clear to Party Favor. They were even more decomposing bodies, this time lashed and nailed to wooden crosses, laid out in a neat rank and file. He looked left, he looked right, and he looked forward, but no matter where he turned his head, he saw no end to them. He shut himself down once again, which by this point, had become his usual modus operandi for dealing with the more terrible sights that the Wasteland had to offer. In front of the crosses, to the right side of the road, was a sign with a written letter protected by a glass screen and a polished wooden frame. It bore a red seal which featured the head of a growling, sharp-toothed wolf, facing right and upwards.

Starlight flew up a hoof. “Now what the hell is this?”

“The most popular method of execution in the Empire is to nail an offender to a cross and suspend him from it," the Wanderer replied. "Further, this letter is marked with the seal of the Kaiser.”

“Read that sign. Tell me what it says.”

The Wanderer walked up to face the sign. His throat rumbled as he cleared his throat to prepare to read. “By decree of the undisputed master of the Holy Empire of Styx, our Glorious Kaiser Shattered Dreams; as of the Seventh of June, in the Year of Our Lord four-thousand-fourteen; these three-hundred thousand slaves have been sentenced to death due to food shortages. The owners of these slaves have each been duly compensated in monetary value equal to the condemned slaves from the public treasury, under due process, in accordance with Our Lord's Holy Law, hallowed be His name, and our Glorious Kaiser's Secular Law. Before their execution, these slaves underwent necessary ritual so that their pitiful souls were prepared for Our Lord's consumption, a privilege they very likely did not deserve. Our Glorious Kaiser hopes that His Divine Majesty is satisfied with this offering, and reverses our bad fortune. Duty. Honor. Courage. Everlasting loyalty.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “You know what? I'm not even surprised.” The three continued along the road.

“This is it,” the Wanderer said, “the Imperial City of Brustworth. The Empire's foremost trade hub, and her foothold on the south side of the River Styx.”

“It's about time,” Starlight grumbled.

The city was surrounded by a colossal granite wall, twelve feet thick and dotted with towers. The city gate was double-layered, the front layer being an iron grate, and the rear layer being large granite doors. In front of the gate stood three Imperial regular Legionaries, one in the center and two in each respective flank.

“Why are this city's doors the same material as the wall?” Starlight asked.

“They are opened by slaves specifically bred and trained to open city gates,” he replied.

“Halt!” barked the center guard, in a similar deep and harsh tone to the Wanderer's. “By order of the Mayor of Brustworth, and regional commander of the Fifth and Sixth Legions, a fee of forty schillings is required for entry into the city.”

“Preposterous,” the Wanderer barked back, “demanding an entry fee into an Imperial settlement under any circumstance is strictly against Imperial protocol. Let me speak to your supervisor.”

“Negative. Centurion Steel Warhammer is in command of the gate guard. Nobody is to interrupt the Centurion without proper authorization.”

“Can you not tell that you are speaking to a Legionary First Cohort?”

“Your manner of dress does not conform with Legionary First Cohort uniform protocol.”

“And your manner of performance does not conform with Imperial City Garrison protocol.”

“Considering your precarious position in the matter, you are advised to take your grievances and insert them firmly into your anal cavity.”

The Wanderer stuck out his chest and raised his voice. “I will thrust the pointy end of my horn into your own anal cavity if you do not allow me conference with your supervisor.”

The guard growled, then mirrored the Wanderer's gestures. "Come try it, degenerate. See how far it gets you."

Suddenly, a purple light flashed just beside the two arguing Imperials, and an aged Legionary whose armor was draped in honorific metals and whose helmet was adorned with curled devil's horns appeared. His bloodshot yellow eyes and red coat was visible behind his visored stahlhelm. “By the Kaiser,” he shouted, “what the hell is going on here!?”

The Wanderer glared at the Centurion. "Are you aware that your subordinates are extorting money from those wishing to enter the town?”

The Centurion sighed. “I'm afraid I am, brother. It's an epidemic.”

“Explain, please.”

“Have you been living under a rock all this time, brother?”

“It is complicated. It is a story I would rather not bother you with.”

“Considering the peculiar state of your uniform, it must be very complicated. I'll let you spare me the details, and give you the gist of what's going on. Ever since we lost the Fourteenth Crusade some decades ago, things have been going downhill throughout the Empire. The Praetorians mutinied and killed the Kaiser that led the failed Crusade, and ever since, the Imperial Palace Throne has had no less than seven different asses plop down on it. The Imperial coffers grew empty as dignitaries had to be bribed and gladiatorial games had to be funded to keep them in power. Our current Kaiser is a young stallion barely out of the service, and only got in because the Praetorians held a bid for the throne, and he just happened to have the most cash for being sponsored by the Dreams family, who happen to own both the Goldberg Mining Guild and Sterling Arms and Armor Guild.

"Which led to the food shortages. Slaves throughout the Empire are starving, and even Imperial citizens need to pay for food at a premium, which is why extortion and robbery have been allowed to run rampant. The Kaiser intentionally put a cap on how much food could actually go to the Empire; he forced food producers to sell any surplus to the Byzuntonians at a price they practically couldn't refuse, to get just enough schillings from tariffs in the coffers to fund a fifteenth Crusade to take mining settlements from the Saracens and for the Dreams family. Because our pool of labor is shrinking, and food has become scarce, the entire economy is going down the sewer pipe.

"As much as I like seeing Saracens dying and bleeding out on the desert sand, this premature Crusade is only going to destabilize the Empire further, wouldn't you agree?”

The Wanderer nodded. “Of course. It is only common sense that we make sure our own home turf is stable before we worry about wars abroad.”

“So you understand. Look, I can't reprimand this Legionary for violating protocol, but I can tell him to make an exception for you and your companions.”

“Thank you, Centurion.”

“Anytime, brother.” He turned his head to the gatekeeper. “Open the gate, soldier.”

The gatekeeper gave his Centurion the Imperial salute. “Sir!” he exclaimed.

The Centurion turned back to the Wanderer. “Be safe, brother.” He lit his horn, then disappeared in a flash.

With the clattering of mechanisms opening the iron gate and the audible dragging of the rock doors opening into the city filling the air, the way for the three adventurers into Brustworth was made.

The city introduced itself with its extravagant marble buildings that had nonetheless been allowed to become stained with the sand and cracked from ill maintenance. From those buildings hung the tattered Imperial banners, horizontal tricolors of red, white, and black, with the tan desert hawk in the center, spread and clutching axes in its talons. In the center of the main square stood proudly a bronze statue of a robed and hooded unicorn gripping a very thick book, still glistening with polish despite everything else falling into neglect.

“Who's that on the statue?” asked Starlight.

“That is our Prophet, founder of the Empire, and common ancestor of all Imperials, Planetvoid. It is he, slayer of a hundred traitorous soldiers of the usurpers Celestia and Luna, who was blessed by the Lord after our exile into the Wasteland for his outstanding valor and skill at arms, and who sits at the right hand of God in the Hall of the Fallen.”

Starlight cocked an eyebrow. “Usurpers? I was told that Celestia and Luna came to power peacefully.”

“You were told wrong, Miss Glimmer. Do you recall the story of the Gem of Mount Athon?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I am sure you know that Equestria was once ruled by the Three Councils.”

“Yes. The Earth Pony, Pegasus, and Unicorn councils, thousands of years ago. Then the Diarchs came down from the sky and showed us Harmony, albeit in the primitive and backward-thinking manner that is still employed today. How are they usurpers?”

“Do you know that there was no unanimous decision to submit to the Diarchs?”

“So that's what the war was about? Regime change?”

“Correct.”

“Who would have opposed Celestia and Luna?”

“Those righteous few of the Unicorn Council who believed in and fought for the natural order of the world.”

“Natural order?”

“Even within ponykind, there is a racial hierarchy. As you already know, we unicorns are blessed with horns that allow us to, through our own wills, manipulate the material world through the aether that binds all matter together, and commit feats of miraculousness. This has driven us to be the foremost scholars, the foremost craftsmen, and the foremost warriors, of ponykind. This monopoly of force and knowledge allowed the Council of Unicorns to be the de facto ruling class of all ponykind, with the two other Councils subservient to it. Our creator made the earth pony and the pegasus to be our servants.”

“But wait. Most unicorns can hardly do anything with their horns. Lifting small objects is about all they can muster. Unicorns like us are a rarity. An exception to the rule. How does that make unicorns superior to the physically strong earth ponies, or the pegasi who are capable of flight?”

“A rather unfortunate side effect of dilution of the pure unicorn blood. After coming to power, the Diarchy permitted and encouraged miscegenation, the purpose of which was to destroy the racial consciousness in order to better dominate all three. You see, there is a reason why the two of us are more powerful than most unicorns.”

“Because most unicorns actually have very little unicorn blood left in them, and this dilution of the blood also caused a reduction in their power over the aether.”

“Clever mare. Again, you are correct. You see, although the more dissolute of the unicorns bent to this lesser part of the Diarchy's agenda, a few did not. The male portion of this few opted to sire children from the Diarchs so that their family lines would be in positions of wealth and privilege. The Diarchs, recognizing the need for a vanguard nobility at their behest, agreed. Those few became what is today the Canterlot nobility. You, Miss Glimmer, are a direct descendant of those few of pure blood.”

Starlight cocked an eyebrow. “Pure blood? But Celestia and Luna are alicorns. How can I be a pure-blooded unicorn when I have alicorns in my family tree?”

“One cannot be an alicorn from birth. Or at least, it has never happened before in recorded history. Any pony from any of the three races can become an alicorn through powerful enough magic. Celestia and Luna were powerful unicorns in their own right, but then they found the Alicorn Amulet.”

“I've heard of the Alicorn Amulet. Some bitter stage actress wore it to get revenge or something. At least, that's what I've read on the newspaper. Quite the trinket, but it doesn't sound like anything of their caliber.”

“The Alicorn Amulet today is a shell of what it was thousands of years ago, stripped of its former glory and corrupted by evil spirits. It was forged of an ancient metal alloy that has been lost to history, and enchanted with runes by the most skilled artisans of the Council. This Amulet was of such power that any unicorn who wore it could destroy the planet with a single thought, given he was of strong enough will to wield that power without it disintegrating his brain.”

“Wouldn't that kind of power be incredibly well-protected?”

“On paper, yes. But the Council had devolved into a state of complacency. Corruption and nepotism were abundant. There were times when the Amulet was left completely unguarded. It was a historical inevitability that the Council would come into direct conflict with its subjects, and the Amulet was the prime tool to resolve this conflict into its synthesis. Unfortunately, is was the Council's enemies that got to it before they did. The sisters got to the Amulet with great ease, and with it, gave themselves godlike powers to which the only answer the Council had was to summon another god from the plane of Tartarus. That god is our Lord.”

“Oh. Him. You've mentioned Him before. I hear you pray to Him every night, and every morning when I get up early enough. Tell me about Him.”

“Our Lord, His Divine Majesty, the Ever Most Mighty and Powerful, whose holy name must not be spoken without proper rank nor without proper context, gave us a fighting chance against the Diarchs. Summoning Him was not easy: the Council had to secretly gather one thousand virgins in secret so that the grand ritual could begin. Our Lord requires blood sacrifice, you see. It fuels him and grants him power. For this, adherence to His law, and the highest respect, loyalty, and obedience; our Lord grants us His blessings, so that we may forever be victorious in battle. Upon His arrival from Tartarus, Our Lord rose the dead up from the earth to assist us in overthrowing the Diarchy and establishing our righteous rule over ponykind. Unfortunately, this army of the undead proved too feeble, and although the war was long and bloody, we lost, and were banished to the Wasteland.”

“And the Empire is made up of their descendants.”

“Only one. Our Lord, angry with defeat at the hands of the Diarchs, killed those of the Council who had survived, and damned them to eternal hellfire. Only one was spared: Planetvoid. Our Lord dictated to him His divine law, and created for him a mare from the sand so that future generations may die and kill for His glory and in His name. That book he carries in the statue is the Holy Scripture, which was dictated to him directly from God from the day of our exile until his death.”

“Hm. You know, I think I'm starting to understand why you Imperials are the way you are.”

“You will have a bit of time to build on that understanding. Please take the rest of the day to tour the town. In the morning, we will be crossing Brustworth Bridge, and making our way to the Byzuntonian city of Cordelphi. The trip should take no more than a week or two.”

“My birthday's coming up in about that time.”

“Is it now? If you do not mind me asking, how old will you be?”

“Thirty.”

“My, you are young.”

“Do you know when you were born, Wanderer?”

“My birthday was not too long ago.”

“Why didn't you tell us? I would've gotten you a gift.”

“The only birthday an Imperial celebrates is the day the Empire was born.”

“I could've guessed. I didn't think it was possible, but your entire country makes a rock farm look fun by comparison. And trust me, that's saying something.”

“I will not dispute that. It is getting dark, after all. It would be wise for you to arrange some lodging for the three of us. I will make some arrangements of my own.”

“Where would I find a hotel?”

“Go to District D, Sub-District 4. That is where foreign merchants and tourists go for lodging.” He leaned closer, to whisper into her ear. “District D is a hotspot for the Imperial Secret Service, so keep constant vigil over your own conduct, and especially of the imbecile's conduct.”

“Secret Service?”

“Do not tell me that you thought that spying on your populace with agents hidden in plain sight was your own original idea.”

“Wha- how could you tell I was doing that?”

“Never mind that. I cannot stress enough the importance of good conduct. Remain soft-spoken, and avoid direct confrontation. You will probably lose any physical altercation you get into with any Imperial, and there is nothing an Imperial likes more than physical altercation.”

“And what will you be doing?”

“There are some things I must tend to alone. I think you will enjoy some of the fine blood sports that are shown in the Amphitheater in District C, Sub-District 1, although you should probably keep Party Favor away from them.”

“What would I see?”

“Duels to the death, team death-matches, and executions designed purely for spectacle are the most common acts showcased in the Amphitheater.”

“Ooh, that does sound fun. I'll take back what I said about this place being less fun than a rock farm. It does have a certain charm to it.”

“Be safe, Miss Glimmer, and do enjoy yourself here.” With that, the Wanderer turned away from Starlight and Party Favor, and went off on his way. Party Favor felt some weight fall off him as he no longer felt the Wanderer's cold, judgmental presence looming over him.

“So what do we do now, Starlight?” Party Favor asked Starlight.

“We should ask around for directions," Starlight replied. "I'd hate to get lost in a town I don't know. Our friend really should have told us how to get to this place.” Party Favor looked around for citizens that might have something to say, but between the stone-faced Legionaries marching single file up and down the city streets, battered and bruised slaves whose stares were entirely null and void and whose ribs stuck out from their chests, and the more elder civilian Imperials who looked nothing short of ancient, there was nobody he thought he'd feel comfortable approaching. Eventually, he did see someone: a pretty blue earth pony mare, whose cutie mark, like those of the rest of the slaves, was superimposed on by a burn scar, this one with a six-pointed star whose lines were all bent at ninety degree angles. He'd noticed this particular brand on many slaves, but it wasn't the only one burned on slaves' flanks. Fighting his fear, Party Favor shuffled to the slave, who was intently stacking an empty barrel onto a cart.

“Um, excuse me, ma'am” he stuttered, “but can you tell me where we can find District D, Sub-District 4?”

The slave grunted in reply.

“District D. Sub-District 4. Tell us how to get there, please.”

The slave grunted harder. She turned around to go get another cart, and Party Favor caught a glimpse at her back; he could've sworn he saw stubs of severed appendages. 'This isn't an earth pony,' he thought to himself, 'this is a pegasus! Why would her wings be clipped like that?' But before he could come up with a guess, he was interrupted by a voice beside him.

“You there!” shouted a guttural, butch-sounding mare's voice beside him, “Get away from my property, unless you want to be a heap of paste!”

He looked to the one who shouted at him. It was a young-looking, sky blue, Imperial mare staring down at him with angry red eyes. Despite being a mare, she was still much larger and more muscular than Party Favor. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I was just asking her a question.”

She tilted her head slightly and widened her eyes. “Are you stupid, little boy? Don't you know that slaves can't talk?”

“Why not?” asked Party Favor.

“Haven't you ever heard of a lobotomy, little boy? Doctors cut out parts of the thing's brain so it's dumber. Makes 'em more complacent. Doesn't look like it'd make much of a difference in your case.”

“Is there a problem here?” Starlight interjected.

“Is this thing yours?” the mare asked, pointing to Party Favor.

“He is.”

“You really should consider getting that thing lobotomized. It's way too mouthy to be a good slave.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” The mare rolled her eyes and was about to turn away. “Wait!” Starlight called out.

The mare snapped an annoyed glare to Starlight. “What now?”

“Can you take us to District D, Sub-District 4?”

“Why would I want to waste my time chauffeuring a couple of uppity barbarians who belong in the slave market?”

“We'll pay you. We'll pay you well.”

“Hm...” the mare rubbed her chin as her eyes loosened from irateness to curiosity. “How well are we talking?”

Starlight levitated a pouch of coins off Party Favor's back and in front of the mare. After exchanging magical grips, the mare untied the rope that kept the pouch closed, and looked inside. Her mouth grew a toothy grin, and she chuckled.

“Oh, this is gonna buy some good cuts of beef! Choice! Prime!” she chirped just before she started walking to their destination. “Okay, maybe you aren't so bad after all. Can you tell me your name, barbarian?”

“My name is Starlight Glimmer,” she said, following the mare. “This stallion accompanying me is Party Favor. What's your name?”

“I'm Shattered Bones. I used to have another name, 'till I got into the habit of breaking the bones of stallions attempting to court me.”

Starlight pursed her lips. “What? Why? How does courtship even work in your country?”

“Well, when a stallion takes a fancy to a mare, what he does is he asks her father's permission to wrestle her while he watches. If he succeeds by keeping her pinned or locked for a full ninety seconds, and her father approves of the way he does it, then the stallion pays the mare's father a dowry and they marry.”

“The mare has no say in this at all. Really.”

“She could tell her father that she doesn't fancy the stallion, and if the father is very, very generous, then he might take her wishes into consideration. But most of the time, no, the mare doesn't. It's up to the stallions to determine each others' strength, and having lots of strong foals is the single most important thing a mare can do for the Empire.”

“Hm. Alright. So, do you have your own stallion yet, Bones?”

“Not yet, but there's this one aspiring recruit for the Praetorian Guard that I've had my eyes on for a while. I can hardly believe he only has one wife...”

The two continued to talk on their way to District D. They enjoyed some chit-chat with each other, and Shattered Bones would tell Starlight a little bit about any city landmarks that they happened to pass by. Party Favor remained passive, something to which he'd grown accustomed. He'd grown to tolerate this constant fear that everything and everyone in the Wasteland – and indeed, the very Wasteland, itself – hated him and wanted to watch him suffer. He'd even grown to tolerate the nightmares that haunted him every night. He'd thought about killing himself for a long time now, but even with the hope that things will get better eroding at every second, his undying loyalty to Starlight Glimmer and the ideals of Our Town kept him from doing so.

Some time later, they made it to their destination just as Starlight was finishing telling Bones a funny story. The hotel building was a wide three-story mud-brick building. The building kept its silence, and most of its windows were closed, as if it was asleep.

“...and then I told her, 'those aren't muffins! Those are rocks!'”

Bones had a hearty laugh. “Oh, you Equestrians and your baked goods. I didn't even know you could make sweets from grains. And here I thought it was all just bread and hard-tac!” She paused. “Well, here we are. I'd love to keep chatting with you, but it'll be curfew in a few hours. Father doesn't like me staying out past curfew, and neither does the city guard.”

“Is there still time for me to see shows in the Amphitheater?”

“Oh, the Amphitheater! I love the Amphitheater! Good stuff there, especially at night. It's free, too. Paid out of politicians' pockets. Lucky for us, the Fireball Races are tonight! I might even see you there.”

“Fireball Races? What are those?”

“Well, it's one of those 'execution sports' that have gotten popular over the last twenty years or so. Really recent. What happens is there are four teams of seven condemned criminals, and each of them wears a tunic covered in a flammable gel. They line up one at a time along the starting line. When the referee gives the signal, the ones along the starting line are lit on fire, and they have to make it past the finishing line before the other three racers. The winner is rewarded with a mercy killing – a quick beheading with one of those cutting spells that the elite Legionaries learn in training – and the rest are dragged aside to slowly burn to death. There's lots of gambling over which team's going to win. I've made quite a bit of money, myself, betting on the Fireball Races.”

“How do you expect them to see past all that fire?”

“That's the fun of it! There's not much that's funnier than watching them run around like headless chickens trying to make it past goalposts that are only fifty meters away. You can tell that it's a comedy act, right?”

“Honestly, I could barely get past the idea of lighting ponies on fire as a state-sanctioned public spectacle.”

Bones let out a thunderous laugh and put a hoof over her chest. “You Equestrians are adorable! You're like those squishy little teddy bears that foreign children play with. Maybe I'll ask dad to take me to the slave market so I can find us an Equestrian in the slave market for a pet. I'll get one that reminds me of you!” She went off on her way, then turned her head back to them. “I'll see you in the Amphitheater, Starlight!”

Starlight smiled and waved goodbye at Shattered Bones, and waited for her to look away before quickly melting her smile away and leaning into Party Favor's ear to whisper. “And they call us barbarians,” she uttered. “Come. We need to get a room for three, and a map of the city. You can go into the bed and rest while I go to the theater, okay?”

Party Favor nodded in agreement, and the two entered the hotel.

A grey lobby of spartan décor awaited them. They were greeted by a bespectacled Imperial mare whose face was wrinkled like a raisin, shuffling through a stack of papers on a dull wooden desk, and a pegasus slave, again, with its wings cut off.

The receptionist looked to Starlight with glazed eyes. “Welcome to Brustworth International Hotel and Lodging," she said in a monotone, "where foreigners are treated almost as if they were our equals. How may I help you?”

“Yes, can I have a room for three, please?”

The receptionist flipped through some more papers like they were drawn animation slides, then slipped one out and skimmed through it. “You want one with a view?”

“Um, no, thank you.”

She nodded and smacked her flaccid lips, showing her toothless gums for just a split second. “Okay, you want room B-20. That's room number twenty on the second floor. Understand?”

“Yes. Thank you. Oh, and if you see a guy in a suit of armor with a lizard skull glued on it, tell him we're here, okay ma'am?”

“One night, room for three, that will be thirty schillings.”

Starlight took a sack of coins off Party Favor's back, and placed it on the receptionist's desk. The receptionist opened the sack with magic, and removed the silver coins one at a time and placed them in a drawer under her desk, until exactly thirty coins were transferred. She grunted and nudged her head in the direction of the staircase, which Starlight and Party Favor walked up to and began climbing after reclaiming the coin sack.

The door to Room B-20 creaked as Starlight opened it with her magic. It was a cramped, musty, and dank place where there laid three mattresses, glorified bales of hay barely big enough for a pig, unceremoniously draped in wool blankets. They could hear the subtle pitter-patter of mice scurrying in the walls, and the room smelled like the hay they were meant to sleep on.

“This is terrible!” Starlight whined, turning to Party Favor. “And here I thought your living quarters back at home sucked. I'm going to go ahead and put a ward on this room to keep out the rats and cockroaches. You... you try your best to get some sleep, okay? Bones told me about a shuttle that'll take us to where we're going next. We're taking that tomorrow.”

He nodded, plopped the load he was carrying on his back onto the ground, then dragged his hooves towards the nearest bed. He threw himself onto the bed, not even bothering to cover himself with the blanket, and closed his eyes. Like every night, he was conflicted: he was happy to have another night of rest, but he dreaded the thought of another one of those nightmares. However, being as exhausted as he was from the day's exertions, it didn't take long for him to drift into his bittersweet slumber to prepare for the day ahead. After all, the smell reminded him of home.

Chapter 6

Party Favor locked his gaze out the window, onto the dirty copper canteen which laid on the table between Starlight and the Wanderer, who were conversing. It was actually Party Favor's canteen, and with his throat sore and mouth sticky from his own extreme thirst, he tried his hardest to take joy in his altruistic act of not protesting Starlight's taking it without his permission. He was lucky he didn't have to carry luggage anymore. Party Favor decided a while ago that he'd treat this shuttle ride as a sort of vacation, since as long as he stayed quiet and out of the way, he could avoid the Wanderer's constant abuse. He wished that Starlight would at least pick up for him once in a while, and it depressed him that Starlight not only ignored it for the most part, but sometimes joined in. But he understood. How long should a sad sack like him expect anyone to coddle him before getting sick of it?

“Wanderer, I've been thinking,” Starlight said.

“About what?” he replied.

“About the changes I'm going to make once we take charge of this place.”

“Changes? Now, that is interesting. Amuse me with your... changes.”

“Well, I think I've traveled this place enough to know how to make some improvements to it.”

“Like what?”

“For one, it's a bit chauvinistic for my liking. How can I have a truly egalitarian world of universal equality with attitudes towards gender stuck four thousand years in the past?”

“I thought the Empire was rather progressive in that respect.”

Starlight let out an exasperated groan. “Mares don't even have any say in who they marry. How can you say your country is progressive?”

“By Wasteland standards, it is. I do not know what it is like in Equestria, but the Empire takes pride in the fact that our mares, for example, have no need for male chaperons in public, and are allowed to speak without male permission. You need to understand that the foremost considerations in Imperial gender relations are state utility and eugenics, not chauvinism.”

“So the Empire's client states treat mares even worse than they do?”

“The opposite of those two examples I gave you are true in both Byzuntonia and Ruusonia, which both value chauvinism far more than the Empire.”

“Oh, well that has to be fixed immediately! I think the Wasteland will be far better off with mares and stallions being treated equally.”

The Wanderer nodded. “I see. And what else would you have us do?”

“Have all capital owned and operated by the state.”

“But the Imperial government already has full regulatory power over all capital within its borders and under Imperial ownership.”

“Control isn't the same as ownership. Didn't that guy from a while back say your country was getting into a war against its national interests for the interests of some cabal of private capitalists?”

“You would have the state manage all industry directly?" He paused. "That is quite a lofty goal. How would you go about it?”

“Well, I'd delegate management of each industry to state-commissioned boards of directors, which answer directly to central government ministries. These ministries will ensure that all industries produce according to the state economic poli-”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“In theory, your plan would work, but it does not take into account those who will be managing this system on a day-to-day basis. An ever-inflating class of self-interested bureaucrats will hamper industrial efficiency. Real figures will be obfuscated by the bureaucracy to maintain the state's favor. Your system is one built on lies, and one meant to fail.”

“How do you know this?”

“It has been tried before, centuries ago. During the Empire's Sixth Crusade, the Ruusonians had a military coup and tried something like this after they had, seeing the vast majority of our forces busy in the lands of the Saracens, broken temporarily from Imperial hegemony. They attempted to centralize their industry into the state so that they could more easily create a military large and powerful enough to beat back the Empire. This proved unsustainable. The combination of an inflated bureaucracy, and an excessive percentage of its population serving full-time in the military, ensured that the Empire did not have to commit its own forces to get the Ruusonians back into our clutches, because their nation's majority was already clamoring to re-join the Empire due to their conditions of squalor. All we had to do was provide them with organization and leadership; within some few decades, the old Imperial puppet government was reinstated. The leaders of that coup were driven out of the Ruusonian capitol, never to be seen or heard from again.”

“Sounds to me like if the bureaucracy can be regulated and cowed to the state line with an expansive network of espionage and coercion, this problem can be avoided.”

“How do you intend to create such a network?”

“Did you ever take magic into account?”

“The Ruusonians were never a very magic-oriented culture, and they always loved their precious freedom. If you can use magic to create such a network that could reliably keep the bureaucratic class in check, then your system may, in fact, be plausible.”

“There's one last thing.”

“What is that?”

“I'd free the slaves.”

The Wanderer blinked. “You must be joking.”

“No, really. You have something like nine-tenths of your entire population with parts of their brains cut out. You're wasting so much potential.”

“Slaves? Barbarians? Having potential? The barbarians are utterly incompetent in every respect imaginable. This is why they have been under Imperial subjugation for millenia. Those barbarians not enslaved by us directly are so lacking in discipline and intellect that they cannot hope to escape our rule in any case. They were meant by the highest cosmic powers to serve us.”

Starlight slammed a hoof on the table. “What about me? Am I incompetent!?”

“Imperial scholars have long debated whether or not Equestrian nobility can be considered barbarian. On one hand, you do not have the deficiencies that plague the majority of the Equestrian populace as a result of mixture with the subnormals. On the other hand, you have never had any long-standing program of eugenics, so you have nonetheless remained stagnant as a race.”

“So what? I'm in some sort of gray area?”

“For lack of a better term, yes. But as an individual, I will concede that you have shown considerable intelligence and wit on par with the Imperial. Your ability to deceive and manipulate is one I have never before seen in a barbarian.”

Starlight smirked and put a hoof on her lower lip. “Aww, well, that's just a little something I've practiced since I was a little filly. First it was blaming big sister for missing cookies from the cookie jar, and now it's tricking pirate lords into getting themselves killed.”

“But can you say the same for the average barbarian?”

“You don't even give them a chance. If I was born a slave in your country, then I'd have my brain hacked at, too. I'd be just another one of them. I think your country would see more innovation if your slaves were allowed at least a token bit of social mobility.”

“The Empire initially became a purely military state in the first place to keep the slaves in line. Before we developed and perfected the lobotomization process, we would be more occupied with subjugating the slaves than winning glory in battle. Even if what you say is true, we would still be taking an enormous step backwards by allowing them to think.”

“Instead of subtracting from their psychology, how about adding to it?”

“Adding what?”

“Ideology. It worked for Our Town.”

“Please elaborate.”

“You don't have to degrade their brains to that of livestock to keep them in line. Just restrict their ideological framework to one which ensures their obedience. Control what makes them happy, then give that to them. Then you won't have to beat them into submission, because they will already submit to you willingly. They will not just fear you, but love you as well.”

“And with these slaves freed, where would our labor come from? Would you have them be slaves in all but name, or is there some alternative that you have in mind?”

“Industrialization. Factories. Machines will fill the role that was once filled by slaves.”

“Factories? What are those?”

“Seriously? You've never heard of a factory?” She paused. “Imagine a line. Now imagine that, along this line, a belt remains in constant rotating motion by machines. This belt carries a continuous row of the most basic foundation for some commodity, like, say, a desk, whose parts are added to it one at a time by machines, or workers aided by machines, as it moves along the line, so that vast amounts of desks can be made cheaply and quickly without taking away their quality as desks. That is, simply put, a factory.”

“You have these in Equestria?”

“We do. Our cities are full of them, especially Manehattan.”

“And how do you intend to power these machines? For that matter, how do you intend to create them, or even gather the resources and capital needed to create them?”

“We need the know-how, we need iron, and we need fuel.”

“Iron is scarce in the Wasteland, but crude oil is abundant, although we only ever found use for it in experimental flamethrowers that we never officially adopted. Would crude oil act well enough as such a fuel?”

“I believe so.”

“And where would you have us get iron and factory-experts?”

“We'll buy them from Equestria.”

“And how do you intend on paying for it?”

“I'll think of something.”

“Hmm. I am not entirely convinced. These are all alien concepts that cannot help but leave me skeptical. But again, given the proper infrastructure and preparation, it may be plausible.”

“So you'd let me try it out?”

“The Empire is in a dire state. As much as I despise admitting it, change is clearly needed. Given that your ideas are sound at least in theory, I see no reason to reject them out of hand. However, I must warn you not to put the cart before the slave. These ideas are utterly worthless if we fail in taking power in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know. But it helps to have a plan.”

“All too true. It is almost time to board the shuttle. Tell our little pack mule to stop giving us that ridiculous stare and get back on board, would you?”

“I will. Cordelphi is just a day away, right?”

“Correct.”

“My birthday's tomorrow, you know. I'd like to spend it sleeping in a real bed. We won't have to sleep in bales of hay again, will we?”

“That depends on how much money you want to spend on a hotel.”

“Is it expensive?”

“It is possible to get luxurious lodging, but it would be grossly expensive. Perhaps it would be best to conserve our funds.” With that, the Wanderer turned away, and walked back to the shuttle.

“But we have so much money!” she whined, following him. Party Favor didn't need even a nod. He knew it was time to go.

“Alright, maggots,” the Imperial shuttle driver boomed at his passengers, “welcome to the Federation. Pay your fee up front. I do not want to see a single one of you come up short.”

Party Favor disembarked after everyone else; a handful of other passengers took the shuttle along with Starlight and the Wanderer. The shuttle station was a ghastly sight even compared to all the others: termite-bitten wooden planks barely kept the nest-covered roof and cobweb-covered canopy up to cover the building. The nearby outhouse had already collapsed into a pile of rubble, so there was a disgusting stench coming from a fly-infested brown soup halfway filling a cesspool to the side, where patrons were forced to relieve themselves.

“You go pay the bastard,” Starlight whispered bitterly to Party Favor.  She levitated a small coin-bag off his back and in front of him. “Don't pay him any tips.”

“We don't do tips here, you dumb broad!” shouited an elderly mare who happened to overhear them as she passed by. Party Favor recognized that accent. Byzuntonian. He thought it sounded a little bit like a Manehattan accent, but it was more “classical” sounding, and it couldn't help but remind him of olive branches and competitive sports.

“Piss off!” Starlight yelled back at her. She looked back to Party Favor. “Just as well, isn't it?”

He exchanged magical grips with Starlight and trotted up to the driver. He was a mean-looking middle aged stallion with a bushy light-grey beard and a dusty bandage wrapped around one eye. Party Favor was bogged down by reluctance, but he willed himself forward. When Party Favor got close enough, the driver glared at him with his single bloodshot eye. He snatched the bag out of Party Favor's magical grip with his own and dumped the coins onto the empty seat between him and a thick steel chest. After counting the coins, he nodded and put the coins into the chest, then locked the chest. Party Favor shuffled on back to Starlight, who was talking with the Wanderer while he was away.

They continued on to the city gate, a wooden, graffiti-coated dual doorway that wasn't quite closed all the way, and was so thoroughly rotted through that it looked like it could be kicked open. As they neared it, they were interrupted by three thugs, one of whom held a large knife in his mouth, and another of whom wore saddlebags.

“You there!” one in the middle shouted, “the Don says there's a toll to pay for coming in here – ten schillings per head – and if the Don says it, you can't say otherwise. Cough it up.”

“You're not getting one red bit from us,” Starlight snapped.

The thug chuckled. “Hey, lookie here. The bitch has teeth. Look, either you pay up, or you aren't getting in.” One of the other thugs whispered something in his ear. He grinned, showing some few teeth missing from his tan set and bleeding, swollen gums, then looked back at Starlight. “On second thought, there is another way...”

“Oh, really?” She scoffed. “And what might that be?”

“If you can't pay us in coin, how about you pay us in... flank?”

“I don't think so.”

“The guy with the knife says you can't take 'no' for an answer, sweet-cheeks.”

The Wanderer stepped forward, between Starlight and the thug, towering over him with his hulking, armor-clad frame. “This individual is, by decree of the Kaiser, under the protection of the Imperial Armed Forces. Any attempt to harm her will yield dire consequences.”

The thug's grin melted away as his confident stance shrunk down to something more meek. “O-okay, big guy. I think I know what you want.” He bobbed his head into his friend's saddlebag, pulled out a bag of money the size of a grapefruit with his teeth, and set it down on the ground in front of him. “That's good enough for you to turn a blind eye here, right?”

At the glow of the Wanderer's horn, the thug was levitated up into the air. He tried kicking and running in place, but all four of his legs were splayed, and began to be pulled out of his body. The thug wailed in anguish as the skin and ligaments that kept his legs attached to his body were slowly torn apart. In quick succession, each leg snapped off. Torrents of blood spewed from those open sockets, making a pool under him. Then the torso was pulled apart. His spine and abdomen were ripped in halves, and his guts spilled out of his body and plopped onto the floor, as did an entire ocean of blood pouring down from the major arteries that were now severed. Finally, his head was pulled off from his neck, then torn in half, filling the air with the sound of the skull's cracks. This revealed the brain, which the Wanderer plucked out from the open cranium and pulled toward himself. He set the brain down on the ground beneath him, then hammered it repeatedly into the ground with a hoof, until it was just a pink pile of mush. He dropped the corpse onto the pool of blood below it, making blood splatter on the nearby bag, and looked to the other two thugs.

“Now then,” he said calmly, “would anyone else like to test my patience?”

“N-no, sir,” the thug with the saddlebag replied, “a-and you know what? Keep the money. Think of it as our way of saying, er, 'sorry'.” He looked to the other thug, who'd already let the knife fall to the ground from out his mouth. “Let's get out of here!” he screamed. The two galloped away, kicking up sand that landed on the body that was still adding more blood to the pool it laid in.

The Wanderer lifted the blood-stained bag from off the ground, and presented it to Starlight before putting it on Party Favor's back with the rest of the money. Party Favor, by this point, had taught himself to block these sights from his conscious mind, so he was as unaffected by it as the other two in the group. He didn't even question it anymore.

“What did you do that for?” Starlight asked, “I'm plenty capable of defending myself.”

“I do not doubt that at all, Miss Glimmer. However, it is ill-advised to make a personal enemy of any of the Byzuntonian crime syndicates. It is better that the Empire makes slights against them, as there is not a single one of them that would take up arms against her.”

Starlight blinked. “... crime syndicates?”

“Allow me to explain. Byzuntonia is a federation of city-states, each fought over pettily by bands of organized criminals. These work as shadow governments of sorts; they are the de facto ruling bodies of these city-states, with the exception of the wealthier part of the capitol, Byzuntam.”

“Can't the Empire come in and stop that?”

“The Byzuntonian government supports this practice as it keeps the other city-states subservient to Byzuntam. And since it distracts the Federation from issues outside itself, and keeps it weaker as a whole, the Empire condones it.”

Starlight looked to the ground and let out a sad sigh. “I wish we could've landed somewhere more pleasant for my birthday.”

“As uncomfortable as those thugs' demands may have made you, their appearance was a fortuitous one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing as they were kind enough to donate to us a sizable lump sum of coinage, we can have excellent lodging and come out no poorer than we came in.”

Starlight grew a smirk. “You know, between a neat show, a nice stallion to keep me company, and a comfy place to stay for a while; this might be a good birthday after all.”

“I am glad to hear that. Let us enter the city now. Given this display of ours, there is no doubt that we will have no more trouble with looters here.”

The mud-brick city was no more well kept than the wooden barricade that protected it. Beggars, with their wicker and clay bowls containing more air than money, their leprous faces, their gangrenous or missing limbs, and their memorials to dead family members made from whatever trash they could pick off the ground and assemble into something halfway decent-looking; added their cries to the city's grim atmosphere. Abandoned buildings sporting more holes than inhabitants was a common sight, and in fact, were common places for thugs to congregate. Most of the buildings weren't much better, often sporting cracks and broken windows that were covered up with rocks stuck on with makeshift mortar. Smiles were rare, and in any case, usually found on some criminal who'd just committed some act of theft or murder.

The three did, after walking through destitution for some time, make it to a wealthier part of the city. They weren't illustrious structures of marble, as one might have found in the Empire, but at least were mostly weed-free, had minimal structural damage, and weren't surrounded by much garbage. Some even showed a bit of polish. One of those buildings was a hotel that Starlight decided looked nice enough for them to stay.

When they entered the hotel, they were welcomed by the glowing fireplace in the middle of the lobby, where other guests could be seen lounging on chairs and sofas and filling the lobby with the steady hum of conversation. The walls and ceiling were painted beige, and from the walls hung well-crafted paintings, mostly of landscapes that Wastelanders would've considered exotic, like forests and tundras and rolling prairies. The red carpet covering the entire floor was refreshingly clean in a city where it was hard to look anywhere without seeing filth of some kind, so the smell of burning firewood sailed freely in the air.

The hotel, which called itself the Cold Brew Inn, certainly lived up to its name. Just about everyone in the lobby enjoyed themselves with a fine ale or liquor, even the children, few as they were. The receptionist, a young and rather effeminate pegasus stallion, stood behind a granite desk which glistened with the light that came off the fireplace on the other side.

“Hey there, travelers!” he greeted with a lisp, “How can we serve you today?”

The Wanderer came up to the desk first. “Tell me about your services here. We have a rather special mare here celebrating a rather special day.”

“Oh, do you? And who is this gorgeous filly?”

“My name's Starlight,” she answered, “we're celebrating my birthday today. Just hit the big three-oh!”

”Oh, that's wonderful! Well, here's what we have: we have massages, spas, a swimming pool, and an exquisite fondue restaurant. I recommend the fondue. Some of the finest in the Wasteland.”

The Wanderer turned to Starlight. “So, what would you have them do for you?”

“Well,” she responded, “I really would like a massage and spa treatment. Fondue sounds good, too, but only if you have it with me.”

“That is not necessary.”

“Oh, I insist!" She looked up to him with pleading eyes. "Come on. Pleeease?”

“Hmph.” He turned back to the receptionist. “Does your restaurant have a vegetarian menu? For her, I mean.”

“We don't have a vegetarian menu, but we do have meat-free entrées.”

“Good enough, I suppose. We will have a room for three, a massage session for one, and a restaurant reservation. One night's stay.”

“And will that reservation be for one, or two?”

The Wanderer sighed. “...two.”

“Okay, room for three, one massage... that'll be eighty schillings.”

The Wanderer lifted the blood-spattered bag from off Party Favor's back and set it on the desk. The receptionist took the bag with his teeth and dumped the coins out. He counted the coins and set about ten of them aside.

“I wouldn't just throw bags of money at folks if I were you,” he said, “someone who works at an establishment with less integrity might just take that spare cash and pocket it himself.” He chuckled. “Well, enjoy your stay! I hope you have a pleasant evening. Your room is number seven. I'll have someone escort the fair lady to our masseuse if you like.”

The Wanderer took the spare coins, put it back in the bag, and put the bag back in its place. “Come,” he said to Party Favor, “I want you to keep an eye on our things while we are away. We would not want you getting lost, would we?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

Room seven was very... roomy. A wicker bowl containing apples and oranges stood in the center in front of three beds neatly covered in woolen sheets, dyed green and lined with purple stitching. A paper sign sat in front of the bowl of fruit. It read, “Enjoy your stay at Cool Brew Inn!” Party Favor put the load on his back down on the floor beside him, and magically lifted an apple up from the bowl. He heard the door shut behind him. When he looked back, the Wanderer was gone. Shrugging, he looked back to the apple. Its skin shined in the light, and it even smelled sweet when he pressed it against his nose. That wasn't something he'd normally do; an apple was something he'd sorely missed after so much time eating hard-tac at road stops. He let the apple glide on his lips as he opened his mouth and bit into it. Chewing, letting the sweet juices of the apple caress his tongue, he felt a rush of nostalgia thrust him into a state of bliss. Never before had he thought a simple fruit would make him feel so good.

Several hours later, at nightfall, Party Favor abandoned the empty bowl to go into the lobby for a while. He just wanted to take a peek. Maybe even have someone talk to him without calling him an idiot or a moron. Coming into the lobby from the hallway, he looked around to make sure neither Starlight nor the Wanderer – especially the Wanderer – wasn't around to spot him. But he did see the two of them, seated on cushy leather chairs and talking together over a pint of ale, although they were in the crowd and didn't notice him. He decided that, even though he wasn't supposed to be out of the room, now was a good time to eavesdrop on them. He hid himself behind the wall to the best of his ability peeked from the corner.

“I had a good time tonight,” Starlight beamed, “I feel so much better now that my muscles aren't so tense anymore. I hadn't gotten a good rub since my Canterlot days.”

“Ah, yes,” the Wanderer replied, “I do sometimes wonder what life is like in that ancient city. It sits on the mountains, does it not?”

“It does. Wonderful place, Canterlot. Good view, gorgeous buildings, clean streets... everyone's nice, too. At least, compared to anywhere in the Wasteland. Everyone is so nasty here. Never nice to anyone unless they want something.”

“Now, why should it be any different in your world, Miss Glimmer?”

“I can't quite put my hoof on it, but it's like there's something in the air that makes everyone bitter and hateful, you know? Nobody helps anyone else just for the sake of helping someone else. There always has to be something to be gained from it. Does the Empire make it that way on purpose?”

“That is the way it has always been. I might ask a similar question of you: does Equestria make it the way it is in your world? However, the point is moot. These different frames of mind have been in our respective places for so long that, however they may have come about initially, they are hardly distinguishable from nature. And besides, the same thing that you claim ponies of the Wasteland are is true for you as well.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was the odd one out. Being selfish or callous will get you called 'evil' or 'mean' in Equestria, which is why I learned how to hide it so well. But it seems like here, it's just par for the course.”

“We in the Wasteland always scoffed at the effeminate bleeding hearts of Equestria. Platitudes and idealistic slogans like the ones in your country simply do not apply here. Maybe a few believe they do, but they are never above early childhood, and they are always bullied and taken advantage of until they wizen up.”

“It's just something I can't wrap my head around is all.”

“You have been here for but a few months, Miss Glimmer. You are a smart young lady. You will figure it out in time.”

Starlight smiled. “Aww, thanks.”

“Do not thank me prematurely. I have something for you.” With that, he levitated in front of her some large rectangular thing, wrapped in a white cloth tied together with a thin cotton twine.

She gasped. “What is this? A birthday gift?”

“Would you expect anything else? Go on. Open it.”

With earnest, she used her magic to undo the twine and unfold the cloth, and beneath it, there was a voluminous violet book with a polished binding made from the scales of a saber-toothed lizard.

“A book on the Dark Arts, Miss Glimmer. Something only found in Imperial libraries, and are banned for sale to barbarians. Everything you need to know is contained in those pages.”

“So you thought of this in advance.”

“You did say that you were interested in learning the Blood Fountain. This book will teach you that, and much more.”

“Well, I love it. How about I teach you something, too? It's the least I can do.”

“And what is it that you would teach me?”

“Hmm... well, I can imagine teleporting is useful in a fight, so how about I teach you that? If you don't know it already, of course.”

“It is not something we are taught in basic training, and I was never assigned to a cohort that specialized in such a thing.”

“Well, what do you specialize in?”

“Temperature control, mainly. My cohort made sure the rest of the Second Legion did not get too hot while marching. How else do you think I wear full plate armor outdoors for so long without succumbing to hyperthermia? And you as well, for that matter.”

“Me?”

“Do not tell me you expected your suit to not be incredibly hot. Speaking of which, where is it? I have not seen you wearing it since you left for massage.”

“Oh, that thing? I got it washed.”

“I would be careful with when and where I undressed if I were you. Your... you know...” He motioned down to her flank. Party Favor wondered what's so important about her flank in the first place, so he decided he'd look at it more closely when he could get a better view of it; that soft, fluffy chair was in the way, after all.

Starlight jolted in her seat. “Oh! Right. I forgot." She chuckled. "Good thing Party Favor's still in the room. I'm going back to the laundry room to get it back, okay?”

“Please do.”

She turned in the direction of the staircase and walked there. With his view of her now unobstructed, he saw what the commotion was about, and the sight shattered his every expectation like a rock to glass. Starlight Glimmer, she who had made him fanatically believe that cutie marks were evil, had not removed her own. The image of those stars and swirls on her flank burned themselves through his eyes and into his soul. He went through unspeakable horrors – horrors that absolutely nobody should have to go through in their lives – and it was all for a lie. So much death, so much pain, so much erosion to his very sanity... and for what? He didn't know anymore.

He even began doubting that Starlight cared at all about finding water for Our Town. Why would they travel so far away through an inhospitable climate and an utterly insane civilization just for water?

And then so many other thoughts hit him. Thoughts that he, until now, had been repressing from his conscious mind: 'I did not volunteer to come here! My name is Party Favor because of that special talent I used to have, but threw away because of her lies! For months, I've been manipulated, abused, and neglected by a couple of psychopaths who couldn't give a horse's flank about me or anyone else! That's it. That is IT! No more. I quit. I'm making a mad dash all the way back to Our Town and letting everyone else know what's up!'

But there was only one problem. The Wanderer was still sitting in the lobby. Making that mad dash now would mean he'd more than likely be killed in an unimaginably painful way. His sanity was damaged, but not that damaged. No, he had to think of something else, and fast. His eyes darted around, looking for some alternative exit. Window... stairs... door... a-hah! Right down the hallway behind him, there was a door, with a sign hanging from its dull brass knob. “For emergency use only,” it read. 'This is an emergency, isn't it?' he thought. So he turned to face that door, and he walked. He didn't run; that would get him killed. And as he walked, his heart pounded as if trying to break his ribs. He couldn't hear much else besides his steps, his heart, and his heavy breath. Although he knew it would be suspicious, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder obsessively, to make sure nobody was watching. The Wanderer wasn't even in the lobby anymore. At least, not that he could tell.

With steady and silent tread, he passed by each pair of rooms sitting parallel to each other. Rooms seven and eight, rooms nine and ten, rooms fifteen and sixteen... it was just past rooms twenty-five and twenty-six that he found himself within arm's length of that emergency exit door. Although it was just a simple mahogany door that lacked luster, it was of wholly divine beauty to him. Using his magic, he twisted the knob, and eased the door open, his heart racing for fear that he might not like what's on the other side. But all he saw was the rest of the city from down a hill, and the setting sun smiling at him over the horizon. He heard the sun speak to him in a soft, motherly voice.

“Come, Party Favor,” the sun told him, “leave this place, and come to me. I will take care of you, my child. Come, dear. Come home.”

Looking closely into the sun, he swore that he could see a face. Full eyelashes on eyes that were like pools of orange light; plump lips whose compassionate smile gave him hope where he thought hope was long gone. He bolted out of the Cool Brew Inn, and westward, towards the sun. He felt a tenderness and caring warmth from her. She didn't judge him nor belittle him. She loved him.

Chapter 7

The horizon – that line between the lifeless desert and the cloudless sky – was blurry to Party Favor's exhausted eyes. He'd been out for… how many days? Two? Three? Five? Whatever it was, he hadn't had a drop to drink nor a bite to eat in that time, and despite the sun keeping his spirits up with her whispers of love and care, the heat that radiated from her was sucking the life out of him. He didn't even know where he was going anymore. He knew he had to go west to get to Brustworth Bridge, then southwest to get to Our Town, but although he'd been taught as a child that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the reality of it proved more complex. Just from sheer exposure to the fact, he realized that the sun set neither exactly east nor exactly west. It was even harder to tell in times outside of sunrise and sunset, and especially at noon. He wondered how the Wanderer managed to navigate through all this, but then he remembered… he used a compass! And not only did he use a compass, but also the constellations of the stars at night, which were far more consistent with where they sat in the sky than the sun. Party Favor neglected to even think about bringing a compass, and he didn't even know the difference between Big Dipper and Little Dipper, so he was very much lost. This grievous error he made in running off unprepared would certainly prove fatal very soon… but then, the sun might have wanted it that way. After all, how could he get close to the sun without first freeing himself of his earthly body? Why would the benevolent sun deceive him?

But before he could ponder these questions further, he saw six radiant colors, glowing in the near distance. Purple, orange, blue, yellow, pink, and white. Could it be? Did the sun send angels to carry him up to her? He rubbed his eyes and looked more closely; he sighed sadly at the sight. These looked like just normal ponies. Likely slavers. Maybe merchants – after all, the orange one carried a large sack on her back. He was too weak to run off, though, so he figured he'd let the pieces fall where they would.

“That's the one!” the blue one shouted. “That's the guy!”

Hitmares. Great. Starlight must have guessed where he'd gone off to, so she must have hired a hit squad to shut him up. But as they galloped towards him, he could see the expressions on their faces. They looked neither gleefully sadistic nor ragefully hostile. They looked… concerned. Was this altruism? Because that was something he hadn't seen since he left Our Town. Although he wasn't entirely convinced, he was hopeful. Once they were near him, he opened his mouth to greet them, but words refused to come out of it.

The yellow one gasped. “Oh, you poor little thing!” she cried. She turned to the purple one. “Twilight, can you give him some water? You can just tell he's just dying for a drink.” The purple pegasus pulled a canteen out of the orange one's sack with magic from her… horn? Wait, a pegasus with a horn? That couldn't be right. He must've been hallucinating. “Now, open wide,” the yellow one said, lifting his head up by his jaw. He obeyed, and like divine nectar, the cool water rejuvenated his mouth and throat. He attempted to speak again.

“Ho-… horror… p-please…”

“Take your time, dearie,” said the white one.

He took some time to collect himself. “S… S-Starlight… cutie marks… lies...”

“He's talkin' 'bout that mayor of theirs,” the orange one said to the purple one.

“That's a good start,” the purple one replied, “can you tell us where she went? Maybe we can talk to her.”

“N-no...” Party Favor mumbled. “She lies...”

“Look, just tell us where she went. We'll deal with her.”

Suddenly, the group all heard a voice echoing from far behind Party Favor. A deep Imperial voice. “What is going on over there? Party Favor? Is that you, boy?”

“Look over there!” the pink one yelled, pointing in the voice's direction, “big old stallion in shiny red suit, twelve o' clock!”

'Oh, crap.' Party Favor thought to himself.

“Come over here, darling!” the white one called out, waving at him, “we don't mean you any harm!”

The Wanderer walked to the group in slow, deliberate step; his white goatee and thinning mane glistened under the sun almost as much as his armor. He was carrying some baggage of his own, and his helm, slung on his back. The six mares, growing impatient with him, began walking to him, but not before the blue one lifted Party Favor up to carry him on her back. The Wanderer and the six mares met.

“Good day, girls. I assume you are treating the boy well?”

“Why?” the purple one asked, “Do you know him?”

“Well, of course I know him, dear child. He is my grandson. I have been looking for him for some few years now.”

“Do you know where he's been?”

“Of course not. He ran away, like children do. Such a pity. His parents died long ago.”

“Look at his flank,” the blue one demanded. “His cutie mark was taken away from him! He got mixed up in a cult!”

Leaning in close, he inspected Party Favor's equal mark. “That is not the mark I remember him having. Again, such a pity.”

“L-liar!” shouted Party Favor. “He's evil! Don't listen!”

“The heat has already gotten to his head, it seems.” The Wanderer sighed. “The sun does that, you know. Makes folks go mad.”

“No! Sun loves me!”

“Now that you mention it,” the purple one mused, “he does show symptoms of severe dehydration and hyperthermia. Psychosis is a fairly major symptom.”

“Quite the eloquent one you are, child. I wonder: are you complimented for your intellect often?”

“Quite a bit, actually.”

“By… colts, perhaps?”

The purple one let on a sheepish smile. “Oh! Well, no, not so much by colts.”

“A shame. Really. Such a fine trait going unappreciated. And such pretty eyes, too. A young stallion would be very lucky to have you.”

The white one scoffed. “Oh, puh-lease!”

“Ah, I apologize for the digression,” the Wanderer said. “Can you tell me your names?”

The purple one put a hoof to her chest. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. There's Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. What's your name?”

“It is nice to meet you, Miss Sparkle. My name is Good Favor. I do thank you for taking care of my grandson, Party Favor. We do not have enough folks like you in the Wasteland, you know. You can give him to me now.”

Rarity leaned into Twilight's ear. “I don't know if I trust him,” she whispered.

“He's fine,” Twilight replied, “just a nice, old grandpa who misses his grandson. Isn't that right, Good Favor?”

“Of course.”

She motioned to Rainbow Dash. “Put Party Favor down, please.”

“Please,” the Wanderer interjected, “allow me.” Magically, he lifted Party Favor off Rainbow Dash's back, and set him atop his rucksack. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Miss Sparkle.”

“Wait!”

“Was there something more you needed?”

“Well, yeah. We're looking for a mare. Starlight Glimmer. Do you know anything about her?”

The Wanderer put a hoof on his chin. “Starlight, Starlight, Starlight… no, I do not believe I do. Perhaps you will have better luck describing her to me.”

“Well, um, she's purple. Not my purple, but different.”

“Lavender, dearie,” said Rarity.

“Right. And she has this streaked hair bunched in the back of her head. And she has an equal cutie mark, like the one on Party Favor… or so we hear, anyway.”

“Lavender… equal mark… ah, yes! I have spotted someone of that description on a shuttle to the city of Kov, to the west.”

“That don't sound like a normal name for a town to me,” said Applejack.

“It is the capitol of the Principality of Ruusonia. The city farthest to the west in the Wasteland. After the Imperial cities of Benn and Wenn along the road northwest, further up, you will find a forked road. Go to either Belogorsk to the right, or Serov to the left. Either one will bring you to Kov. Did you get all that, Miss Sparkle?”

“Alright. I'll make sure we mark all the right things on our map.”

“I am sure a bright young lady like you will not make a single mistake.”

“Trust me. I go out of my way not to.”

“Good luck, Miss Sparkle, and all the rest of you. Bring this Starlight Glimmer to justice for us, would you?”

They turned around, and started on their way back west. “We will, Good Favor!” she said, waving back, “Take good care of your grandson!”

The Wanderer turned east and began his own way. Party Favor saw that last twinkle of hope fading away, the six mares getting smaller and smaller as they stretched the distance, until he could barely see them. In despondence, he dropped his gaze to the ground, where he caught just the slightest glimpse of some large stone being magically lifted up from the dirt.

“Gullible little harpies, are they not?” the Wanderer grumbled. “I cannot tell whether I am not as rusty in guile as I once thought, or if they are simply that naive. It does not matter. For some strange reason, Miss Glimmer found it expedient to at least try to have you spared. A waste of effort, in my opinion, but it is not as if Equestrian nobility is abundant around these parts, and Lord help us if she tries to travel the wastes without me. She would be almost as hopeless as you.” He paused. “There is something I think you should see, boy. It will take us some time to get there, and it will be easier for me if you sleep throughout the trip. This rock should do the trick nicely...” Just then, he felt the rock slam against the back of his head, then went out cold. A quick and easy way to lull someone to sleep, albeit crude. And liable to cause brain damage.

Chapter 8

In the shuttle to Byzuntam, Starlight locked her gaze into her purple book. “Encyclopedia Sadismus” was the title, a glittery silver cursive embossed on the hard front cover to match the polished scale bindings. The pages within were thick like paint canvases – certainly not what she was used to in any academic work, or indeed, any work of writing at all. And there were many hundreds of these pages. The result was a sturdy, but unnecessarily large and cumbersome, book. In contrast, however, the text was a fair bit smaller than she was used to, so it took a bit of getting used to on Starlight's part, and it did strain her eyes more quickly than the print on all the other books she'd read, especially when browsing the meticulous index and table of contents. But it was not all bad. There were plenty of vivid and detailed illustrations that served as companions for the written pages. Unwieldiness aside, it couldn't be said that these pages were ill-equipped to handle some truly remarkable imagery, perhaps even worthy of Canterlot art galleries were it not for the fact that they depicted unimaginably violent and cruel acts that would probably have made Starlight keel over in revulsion were she as weak in mental fortitude as everyone else in Equestria. Overall, she was happy. She hadn't had a chance to curl up to a good read since she left her personal library behind in Our Town, so the bookworm in her was ecstatic just to have a pile of paper with words written on it, let alone something of such fine craftsmanship.

“Is fine book you are reading there, young lady,” said an unexpected Ruusonian voice behind her.

Starlight snapped her head in the voice's direction and slammed her book shut. “Oh! Um… thanks. It was a gift from a friend.” She gave a toothy grin to that brown pegasus stallion who'd snuck up on her.

“I don't think that is material you are of allowing to read. You must have interesting friends, no?”

“No, he's just your average guy like everyone else.”

“There is nothing of average about Imperial who gives gift to Equestrian.”

Starlight's grin shrunk as nervousness started to set in. “Did I say he was an Imperial?”

The stallion leaned his head to her ear to whisper. “Do not be of trying to fool me. We have eyes everywhere. We are of knowing who you are, Starlight Glimmer, mayor of Our Town.”

The shrunken grin curled into a scowl; the faux-joyful eyes narrowed to sternness. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

“I am humble emissary of secret club. We mean you no harm. Not to your friend, either. Our goals are, how you say, aligned. I will explain further later.”

“You can explain now, can't you?”

“You must understand. We are not only ones who are having eyes in far places. Besides, mare walking around alone will be getting wrongful attention.”

“No offense, but I'm sceptical.”

“Sceptical is good thing to be. Necessary for the surviving. But this picture on your flank, and this name of sky and shiny thing; you are of status, and great magic strength and knowledge, yes?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It would be terrible waste to try to drag you to alley and mug you. Would also be suicidal. No, we have bigger goals, and smarter heads.”

“So where are you taking me, exactly?”

“Clubhouse for top-secret fan club. Very exclusive. Invitation only.”

“Hmm… alright, I'll see what you have to say. But if I smell anything even remotely fishy, I'm out.”

“Is what I'd hoped you would say. Even part with fish.” He paused. “Byzuntam is of close. We have ration to keep you fed and bed for sleep.”

“Is it any good?”

“Am afraid is not excellent, sorry. I know you like to live the lavish. But is not terrible either, and free of charge.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “I'm sure my dear old friend would just love that last part,” she mumbled.

The Ruusonian paid the shuttle driver as he and Starlight disembarked outside the city. She could only stare in awe at the city wall, a brilliant blue marble fortification whose imposing height was almost as humbling to the soul as the beauty of its intricate engravings of flowers, mermaids, and all manner of sea creatures. The gatehouse held a wooden gate covered in the shimmering scaly silver hide of a saber-toothed lizard. Above the wall, she could see a grand white marble palace sitting atop a hill in the distance, adorned with two crisp waterfalls to the sides of a vast minaret made of solid gold which glistened in the Wasteland sun like a midnight star. Not even in her Canterlot days had she been so impressed by a city's aesthetic wonder, and she had yet to even enter it.

“Does this city get a lot of tourists?” she asked the Ruusonian.

“Tourist? No.”

“Well, why not? This is just utterly gorgeous!”

“Empire is not of wanting Federation to get income from tourist. This is just for show anyway. Is political statement for other city-state.”

“What, do they want all the tourists for themselves?”

The Ruusonian smiled, chuckling to himself. “Empire? Tourist? Is funny joke. Even their capitol looks like shit, and Imperials are very rude bunch. Only decent-looking city of Empire is Brustworth, and that is only because merchants wouldn't be caught dead there if it was of looking like all their other city.”

“Have you been to the Imperial capitol?”

“Wenn? Yes, I have been. Is like giant barracks. Everyone is live in big, gray block apartment. Not a tree or piece of artwork in sight. Only things not dark gray are Amphitheater and Palace; they are slightly lighter shade of gray. Is of making your Our Town look fun and lively by comparison.”

Starlight's eyes first widened in surprise at him knowing enough about Our Town to make comparisons to it, then narrowed down in a snarling rage as she became indignant at the insinuation that Our Town was not fun and lively. “Who do you think you are talking that way about Our Town!?” she shouted.

The Ruusonian stepped back, visibly shocked by such a sudden change in her tone. “Woah. Double Diamond was not exaggerate when he mention your mood swing. Am very, very sorry. Did not mean to offend. Our Town inhabitants are very nice bunch.”

“Ugh. I told that idiot 'no outsiders'. Just what the hell were you doing there, anyway?”

“I hope you are not of minding, but I was task with doing, how you say, research, on you. Your friend as well, but information on him is very hard to come by. We don't even know his name.”

Starlight sighed. “He doesn't even know his name.”

“Is very common for disgraced Imperial to have little to no surviving record of him. Empire is destroy any record they can of him. 'Arsön von Mumoree', they call it. 'Burning of Memory.' Is happen to anyone they deem traitor, which is usually deserter from battlefield.”

“Hold on, is that some ancient runic language that I never heard of?”

“Oh. Right. I forget to tell you. Empire has own invented language. 'Reichschpeak.' Is not ancient by any means, and is only meant to keep conversation between Imperial secret to so-called 'barbarian'. Your friend more than likely is of speaking it.”

“Yeah, I always wondered why they call everyone else 'barbarians' when they go out of their way to be complete savages.”

“That word is different to Empire than is to Equestria. They believe all non-Imperial are stupid, thus never have intelligent thing to say. They call non-Imperial 'barbarian' because, to them, anything non-Imperial is say is like bleating of goat. 'Baa, baa.' They also are believe that they are chosen of their god, thus worth more in his eyes than anyone else.”

“Well, are Imperials smarter than everyone else?”

“On average, no. They are conniving, xenophobic brute. That your friend has not tried to kill you by now must be meaning he is either very patient, or very fond of you.”

“Well,” she boasted, “I do have a natural ability to get others to like me.”

“We are guessing he has practical reason to keep you around as well, which is why I am of speaking to you now. There is someone else who wants to talk to you.”

“We're going now?”

“Yes, we're going now. Stay with me as close as you can. If I lose you, I will not look for you.”

Upon walking through the silver gates, Starlight was greeted with the touch of a cool mist of water, from the glimmering marble fountain on which a golden whale, surrounded by six golden dolphins, spat crystal clear water into the bowl which did not contain even a single rusty coin. She was instantly drawn to the water, which was cleaner than anything she'd seen since she left Canterlot so long ago. Ever so slowly, as if hypnotized, she walked to the water.

“Fountain water is strictly off limits,” barked a city guard who suddenly blocked her path. Starlight walked back some to get a better look at him. The first thing she noticed was his helmet, eerily similar to the helmets of the Equestrian Royal Guard back in Canterlot, even down to the bronze cheek pieces and plume. But such similarity stopped at the neck; his torso was covered by a white, hard leather cuirass, soft enough to be mistaken for fine linen, and shining like the fountain that its wearer protected.

“But why?” she asked.

“If we let any old pauper near it, then all the hoi polloi will flood in here and make this part of the city as squalid as all the others.”

“Starlight,” the Ruusonian interjected, “this is set piece. Is for show. No-one lives here.” He paused. “Look at the windows, Starlight. Look closely.”

Her eyes stared deeply into one of the windows of a nearby building. It looked like a selection of fine dresses from a clothing store, but it was completely still, lacking any movement. The building, like all the others encircling the fountain, was built from flawless marble, and engraved with images of majestic sea creatures. But they were as silent as corpses. There was nobody walking these marble-paved roads except the city guards, who seemed to be dressed to compliment the city aesthetic. Shiny gold, and shiny marble. She finally saw what was wrong in the window. It was a painting. All these buildings' windows had paintings hiding their true contents, which were likely nothing at all.

“Why would they go through all the trouble of making all this if nobody's around to see it?” Starlight asked the Ruusonian.

“Oh, is seen,” the Ruusonian replied, “is seen by foreign emissary and merchant. Especially from other city-state. Is basically way of saying, 'look how much more rich and power we are than you. We own you.'” He turned to the guard. “Isn't that right, my good sir?”

The guard shrugged. “Yeah, that's pretty much it. Hell, not even us guards live here. We live in brick apartments. Still better off than most, though.”

“What does the rest of the city look like?” Starlight asked the guard.

“About the same as the rest of the Federation.”

“Of course.” She turned to the Ruusonian. “Let's keep going.”

“Alright.”

The city after that set piece was, indeed, very much the same as in Cordelphi. Murder, theft, burglary, drug peddling, and all the rest of it were rampant. Drug peddling especially. The Russonian explained the Byzuntonian drug trade to her on their way to this "fan club" of theirs.

Byzuntam was not just the capitol of the Federation, but also the capitol of the “glowing rock” trade. A red crystal-like substance, the glowing rock was administered into the body by first melting it into liquid form, then injecting it into the bloodstream via syringe. It could also be ground into powder and administered through the nostrils. Most glowing rock users were criminals, and most criminals were glowing rock users. There were a few reasons for this: Firstly, there were the direct short-term effects of the drug: increased physical strength, dulled pain, relaxed muscles, and increased irritability and aggressiveness – psychotic rage, in extreme doses. These effects were normally only attractive to criminals anyway, since the mental effects were only really useful for those plotting to commit some murder or assault, while even those in very physical lines of work wouldn't consider it a decent trade-off to risk execution for murdering their bosses just so their muscles would be less sore on the job. Secondly, it was highly addictive; even a few ounces could spark a physical dependence on it even if it was the user's very first dose. Because of this addictiveness, and the body's natural tendency to build up tolerance to chemical substances, the user would go into a life of crime because the cost of regular dosages would rise above what he could afford with his paltry legitimate income. Thirdly, more than a few of the Byzuntonian crime syndicates required new recruits to go through a hazing ritual that included glowing rock usage, so that the recruit would have a much harder time leaving once crime started losing its appeal. Glowing rock was pretty much exclusively a Byzuntonian phenomenon; Ruusonians didn't care much for it because they preferred to keep cool and collected in their shady business, and Imperials scoffed at the “barbaric” idea of depending on external aids to be good at committing violence. Glowing rock peddlers were always laughed out of town in Ruusonia. They were also laughed at in the Empire… then nailed to crosses… while still being laughed at. But these peddlers were tolerated in Byzuntonia to the point where they could sell openly, some even setting up shops for different strains of the drug and related paraphernalia. In fact, the Ruusonian had just taken Starlight to one of these shops.

The first thing that hit Starlight upon entering the shop was the searing of her nostrils with each breath she took, as if the air was full of acid. Great mounds of glowing rock was stacked in termite-bitten shelves in this termite-bitten building. There was a lantern on the shopkeeper's bench, filled with cobwebs because the massive hole on the roof gave the shop about as much light as it needed. The shopkeeper, himself, was so dirty that the strands of hair on his beard were stuck together by food and dried booze, and his mane was so greasy that if it were wrung over a cooking skillet, there'd be enough oil to fry an egg.

“Hello there, friends!” the shopkeeper greeted, “how may I serve you today?”

“Ah, yes, comrade,” the Ruusonian replied, “there is certain kind I'd like from you. Is in secret stash, yes?”

“That depends. What kind were you looking for?”

“Am looking for 'Serov Special'.”

“I see. And is this the mare I've heard about? Our… new employee?”

“Yes.” He turned to Starlight. “You are eager to start work here, yes?”

“I am,” she replied.

“Okay,” the shopkeeper chirped, “just lift up this lantern here, then the Moskov Special will open up to you on your left.”

The Ruusonian walked up to the lantern, clutched it by the handle with his teeth, then lifted it off the ground, showing a vertical steel rod as it ascended and letting out a hissing stream of air. The wall to the left side sunk down into the floor, revealing a steel floor hatch behind it, sealed with a combination lock. After turning the numbered dials to the correct three-digit combination, the Ruusonian undid the lock, then opened the hatch.

“Down here, Starlight,” he said, motioning to the dark opening below. They walked down, with Starlight illuminating her horn to light the path down the underground chamber.

After some time of walking, Starlight saw some lanterns hanging from the ceiling, then a sign nailed to the wall in front of her. “The Brotherhood of the Sun welcomes you,” it read.

“Can you tell me what that is?” Starlight asked, pointing to the sign.

“Is a sign,” he replied.

“No. The Brotherhood of the Sun. What is that?”

“They are ones who sent me to you. We are fighter for Ruusonian independence. Free our country from Empire.”

“Well, what are Ruusonian independence fighters doing in Byzuntonia?”

“You see tunnel like this, Brotherhood have vast network of them throughout Wasteland. I tell you Brotherhood have eyes everywhere, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Think of tunnel as nerve connecting eyes to brain. Also lets us travel throughout Wasteland without Empire seeing. For centuries, we bided our time, waiting for opportunity to strike. Now that you're here, that time may be soon.”

“You… you mean the Gem. The Gem of Mount Athon.”

“Yes. Brotherhood may have eye, but muscle is weak. Mount Athon might just be of containing the muscle we need. Come, you see Elder of Brotherhood. He will be of telling you more.”

For two hours, Starlight followed the Ruusonian down the tunnel, lighting the way with her horn. The scent of black powder was ever present. Looking closely at the walls and ceiling, she could faintly make out wooden barrels sticking out of them; it just happened that the scent of powder was strongest near these barrels. The tunnels also had a great many forks and loops. There were signs at every intersection, but these signs didn't display any understandable language. They were lines of pictures – hieroglyphs – probably either some long dead language, or a code. The general theme of the pictures was rodents. Rats, weasels, moles, and the like doing things that animals like rats, weasels, and moles normally do. Despite the esoteric and very antiquated nature of this written language, the Ruusonian could read it as if it was normal writing, and he was confident that he knew where they were going. Starlight wondered what those other pathways led to, but she didn't want to find out firsthand. The stench of rotting flesh coming from those pathways was enough to tell her the gist of it.

The first indication that she'd entered the Brotherhood sanctuary was the sudden switch from the dirt floor to the wooden floor; the clip-clop of each step alerted the rest of the Brotherhood members, who looked onto her in curiosity. The second was the lanterns which hung from the ceiling to light the labyrinth that served to connect all the sanctuary's different rooms and chambers, which were closed off with shoddy wooden doors. Other than that, it was about the same as the tunnel she'd come in from.

Just like in the Byzuntonian cities, there was not a mare in this sanctuary who didn't have a stallion escort. The vast majority of mares carried at least some sort of cleaning or cooking supply; the few who didn't carried textbooks. In contrast, the majority of stallions wore a leather suit and steel cap, not terribly different from the Jackals from some time ago. The largest stallions, the sanctuary's elite guard, were draped with hooded robes of tiny steel plates knitted together with leather strings. 'He wasn't lying when he told me they were chauvinistic,' Starlight thought to herself.

Three of the elite guards, marching in lockstep side-by-side, approached Starlight and the Ruusonian. “Greetings, Comrade Bright,” the guard in the middle said to the Ruusonian, “I see your mission to the surface was a success.”

“Indeed, comrade. Mark has been very cooperative with us so far, as expected. We can only hope other mark prove just as cooperative, yes?”

“I still don't like the idea of putting our trust in an Imperial.”

“I am not like it either, but is probably our only shot for long time.”

“This could be the death of us.”

“Eh. What is point of living in rat tunnel anyway? Besides, this one have no reason to betray us.”

“I wouldn't count on that. There isn't a single Imperial who isn't sick in the head, you know. Normal minds can never really understand their motives or reasoning.”

“I am of incline to think everyone have some good in them. I mean, he's spend months travelling wastes with Equestrian. Equestrian! Population that make most Wastelander look like Tartarus demon. And by all account, their relationship is of seeming rather good.”

“It is,” Starlight interjected. “and I can attest that he's different from the other Imperials I've met so far. He's kind, caring, honest, and very polite. I don't know how we could possibly get along if he wasn't. If there was ever an Imperial you could count on to fight tyranny, it would be him.”

“Those things can be feigned,” the guard replied, “but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Equestrians do have an uncanny ability to make rotten hearts pure. But I'm just a simple infantryman. It'll be the Elder who passes final judgement.”

“You're taking me to the Elder now, right?”

“No. We're waiting until your friend gets here. Should only be a few days from now. In the meantime, you'll stay in the sanctuary's general living quarters. As a token of our good will, we'll give you anything you ask for – within reason, of course. The Elder wishes to show you his generosity.”

“You can tell your Elder that I thank him for his kindness.”

“We will. Now, come. It's almost dinnertime. We wouldn't want you missing out on rations at the mess hall.”

Chapter 9

The first thing that hit Party Favor when he woke up was the throbbing pain in the back of his head, making him groan as he tried to make sense of his blurred, sandy surroundings. As time passed, and he became more lucid, he noticed that he was inside a tent, made from cloth and colored beige. The same tent, in fact, that he shared with Starlight and the Wanderer in that long trek from Our Town to the Brustworth-Goldberg highway. However, with the exception of the tattered bedroll he slept in and the lone canteen that sat in front of him, the tent was completely empty. The entrance was just slightly ajar, letting in the magnificent rays of the midday Wasteland sun. He noticed that the rays landed squarely on the canteen, so that it glistened like spring water. Water. His mouth began aching for water. He magically lifted the canteen up to his ear and rocked it back and fourth. By the sound of it, the canteen was filled almost to the brim. This made him suspicious. He didn't expect the Wanderer to be so kind as to give him a full helping of water without some sort of caveat, i.e. poison. He pondered for some time whether it was worth the risk of dying to poisoned water to quench his thirst right now.

“Boy,” said the Wanderer through the other side of the tent behind him, “just drink it. If I intended to kill you, I would not do it that way. Poison is a coward's weapon.”

Now knowing that escape wasn't even a choice in the matter, he twisted the cap off the canteen and chugged down its contents, deciding that even if it were poisoned, the death that would follow would actually be one of the better options. However, that did not come. Instead of the sour taste of death, all he tasted was the bland flavor of filtered and boiled water. The fact that the Wanderer even bothered to treat that water for him came as a shock. In fact, it was downright jarring. Still, he couldn't deny that it made him feel rejuvenated. He fumbled his way up on his hooves, and entered the outside, where the sunlight pierced his eyes until he could adjust.

“Good afternoon, son,” said the Wanderer beside him, “did you sleep well?”

Party Favor looked to that side and up; through that helm with the skull of a saber-toothed lizard, he saw a pair of tired, wrinkled beige eyes. Not hostile, like he'd expected, but just weary, like those of a jaded elder. It reminded him that underneath that armored shell was a pony, just like him. And perhaps there was some mercy or compassion behind that cruel exterior.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess.”

“You know, you really should have prepared more carefully before running off into the wastes. It is a very hostile environment. Even Imperial legionaries can and do succumb to it. I know carrying supplies is not the most prestigious task, and I know it made you the butt of a few jokes before you decided to betray us, but it is a critical task that you should not have been so keen to shirk. Additionally, you should have traveled by night, in order to mitigate the effects of the Wasteland heat on your body and utilize the constellations of the stars to aid navigation. Luna's night is far more appreciated in the Wasteland than it is in Equestria. The only reason we traveled by day when we left Our Town was because of my training in temperature control. Indeed, the Wasteland would have given you a worse death than I would have had I noticed your desertion before it was too late. A death that I have spared you from.” He paused. “You do remember why I decided to spare you, right?”

“Something about Starlight wanting to keep me alive?”

“Although she has a peculiar way of showing it, she does care about you. She cannot bear to see such a loyal and steadfast servant to the cause of Equalism perish, even for a transgression such as yours.”

“Transgression?”

“Sin. Error. Bad deed. You really hurt her by abandoning us like that.”

Party Favor narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you care about others getting hurt?”

“I will admit that originally, I had only meant to use her as a tool to accrue the means with which to do battle against the Empire so that I could redeem myself in the eyes of God and ascend to the Hall of the Fallen. However, she has grown on me slightly, and I find her ideas to be a sound foundation from which to build a new philosophy with which to better rule and govern the now decrepit Reich.”

Party Favor began choking on a lump that grew in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes as well, despite his efforts to hold them back. “But everything she said was a lie. I saw her cutie mark. I've been nothing but a pack mule for her all this time, but I was happy at least knowing that it was for a good cause. But now, I don't know...”

“And have you not considered how much it hurts her to know that she cannot remove her own mark despite fervently believing that marks are evil? She does care about you, you know. You and all the rest of your townsfolk.”

“But… but the staff of sameness…”

“'Just a piece of wood she found on the ground,' as she put it. It is the abilities afforded to her by her mark that allow her to remove the marks of others. A sacrifice of ideals on the altar of pragmatism that we in the Wasteland are all too familiar with.”

“Did she remove your cutie mark?”

“No. She does not even know what my mark looks like. My talents are just as important as hers in this journey of ours.”

“Just what is this journey about, anyway? I mean, what is it really? Don't even try telling me that we went all this way just to find groundwater.”

“I will answer that question in due time, but first, there is something else I think you should hear first. From Scripture.” The Wanderer, from the rucksack that laid beside the tent, levitated a brown leather book up and brought it to himself. He opened the book to a place kept by a bookmark, and began reading.

"And against the Lord's wishes, the heretic, whose name burns forevermore with him in the fires of hell, had picked the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and eaten it. The heretic, whose heart was impure and whose mind lacked discipline, was overwhelmed by the Lord's Knowledge, as he could not begineth to comprehendeth it. He vomited, and the ejected fruit which spilled onto the barren ground alerted all the righteous to his sin. And verily, the Prophet blankly stared at the ground in sorrow, for his secondborn son had fallen astray from the path of righteousness, and been seduced by the vice of insubordination. Having turned his back on the Lord, the heretic exiled himself from the holy city of Wenn, and the promised land.

"And having turned his back on the Lord, he was blind to the Lord's guiding hand, and stayed stranded in the wastes for six days and six nights.

"And on the seventh day, at the edge of the Canyon of the River Styx, the Lord made His awesome presence known to the heretic.

"And the Lord said unto him, 'Thou hast disobeyed my direct order and eaten from the Tree of Knowledge. Dost thou knoweth the penalties for thy sin?'

"The heretic replied, 'Yay, Father. I knoweth.'

"The Lord said, 'Then why hast thou forsaken me?'

"The heretic replied, 'Why withholdeth knowledge from thine own Chosen? How could thou beeth secretive with thine own righteous followers, and expecteth them to denyeth their curiosity?'

"The Lord said, 'To denyeth one's curiosity in favor of faith beeth the mark of the righteous. To indulgeth one's curiosity, and denyeth faith, beeth the mark of the devil. Dost thou understandeth now?'

"The heretic, whose dark soul could understandeth not the light which shined before it, fell deftly silent.

"But the Lord, perfect in all ways, infinite in His wisdom, and abundant in His generosity, said unto him, 'I offereth thee one final chance. Either sweareth thine undying, unquestioning, and unyielding faith to thy Lord before Him; or perish, and be denied the Hall of the Fallen.'

"But the heretic's mouth had produced nary an utterance, for he, blinded by the evil which clouded his vision, simply could not understandeth the light. And the Lord cast down the heretic into the depths of the Canyon of River Styx, and thus he perished, and was denied the Hall of the Fallen. Thus, divine justice was done, and the Prophet found solace in the damnation of his secondborn son, for the shame which accompanyeth the heretic for eternity had been consumed with him by the gaping mouth of hell."

The Wanderer then eased the book shut, and placed it back into the rucksack with his magic. “That, boy, is Crucible, Section Four, Articles Three to Twenty. Now, follow me. It is time you saw what I intended to show you from the beginning.”

Party Favor walked alongside the Wanderer for some time until he, after a sudden misstep into a great fissure in the ground, just barely managed to save himself. He stared down into the abyss, and could not catch even a glimpse of the bottom. Looking left, then looking right, he also saw no end to the fissure's breadth.

The Wanderer looked to Party Favor. “This, son, is the Canyon of the River Styx. The mouth of hell, and the dividing line between the Imperial hegemony and the land of the Saracens. Like the heretic so long ago, you have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge, and have become corrupted by it. Your master, in her generosity, gives you one final chance: be loyal to us, or be eternally damned. I suggest you choose the former, lest history repeat itself.”

Party Favor stared down the canyon again. As much as he hated the prospect of eternal damnation, he also hated the prospect of going back to his life as a pack mule. But what if what the Wanderer was saying was true? What if she really does care about him? What if the Wanderer's abuse was really just ill-informed tough love? Could things change for the better? Could he, after all this was done, go back to his simple life in Our Town and forget all this ever happened? But there was one last question that needed to be answered before he could make his decision. Whether or not he could simply go back to the old life depended entirely on how his actions here would rest on his conscience.

“Before I choose, I need to know what this is really all about. I need to know why I'm really here.”

“Do you really want to know the truth, son? You may not like it.”

“I'm ready.”

“Very well.” He cleared his throat, and paused for some few moments. “The great hawk of the Empire no longer flies as gloriously as she once did. Poverty, corruption, and dishonor plague the Empire from top to bottom. Unworthy cretins are allowed to sit on the Imperial throne and call themselves Kaiser. Centurions are not only allowed to let protocol be ravaged by their subordinates, but are compelled to. Our pool of slave labor is not growing, but shrinking. Our Legions suffer shame and failure on the battlefield through gross negligence on every level. After over four thousand years, the Empire is sickly and frail, keeping herself alive only by her own force of will. It is abundantly clear that she will perish at any moment, and there is nothing that can be done to save her. All that can be done is put her to rest. To give her a death that is quick and honorable. Miss Glimmer and I are working to give her such a death, and put a new, more suitable regime in her place.”

“But why?”

“Despite our best efforts to prevent it, the Reich has fallen deeply ill with internal strife. The causes of this strife are many: conflicts of nationality, of class, of race, of faith, of talent, of opinion. As long as a society is divided within itself by opposing interests, it cannot exist indefinitely. But I now know what must be done.”

“What? Taking away everyone's cutie marks? That's going to solve everything?”

“The problem extends beyond such banalities, as does the solution. The old autocratic orders have attempted to subjugate those outside their prevailing paradigms – this is not enough. We must not subjugate, but assimilate. We must remove not only the marks, but any sense of difference within society.

"This is untenable within the system of the Empire, of course. Our economy is dependent on the cheap labor that slaves provide, and slavery is inherently a system of subjugation of one group over another. No political philosophy, however moral or immoral it may be, can function when it contradicts a society's very economic foundations. However, with the very real possibility of cheap labor becoming mechanized – one that I was skeptical of until much deliberation – such a mass assimilation becomes plausible. Automated manufacture of commodities makes for larger and more uniform assortments of goods, and more importantly, allows for the previous source of labor to open itself up to indoctrination, as they depend on the state apparatus for not only their daily bread, but also the freedom and livelihood which it so graciously grants them.

"All the sapient beings of the world must conform to the most singular uniformity, and their consciousnesses must be melded together into one, because as long as there exists the free agency of the individual to separate himself from the collective, he will separate himself from it and pursue interests outside of, and even contrary to, it. It is natural for the individual to band with like minds and kindred spirits to enforce his will despite all others, so it is imperative that we make all minds like, and all spirits kindred, both to the fullest extent possible, through discipline and targeted education. All that defines the individual – that being, his cumulative impact on the world – must never be anything other than an extension of the collective, itself. Additionally, the individual must never consider himself as anything except such, and the collective must never consider him anything except such. This way, the only interests the individuals who make up the collective will oppose are those outside of the collective, which means the collective stays intact.

"The mark must perish. Individuality must perish. Private enterprise and ownership must perish. Free will, free expression, and free choice must perish. That, I have discovered, is the final conclusion to the harmony-chaos dichotomy. Each new iteration of societal structure hitherto has brought us further from chaos, and closer to harmony. The first Reich was an oligarchy. The second Reich, which we intend to destroy, is an autocracy. The Reich of the future, the third and final Reich, will be a unity. And by the sword of this third Reich, all the world will be united. Chaos will be pounded to dust under the hammer of Equalism.”

Although Party Favor was unable to fully grasp these concepts (indeed, he didn't really pay close attention to most of it), there were some things that struck him. 'Remove any sense of difference.' 'Free will must perish.' 'By the sword, the world will be united.' His mind focused on these simpler components, and they made his lip quiver and his stomach crawl. Is this what he's worked himself to the bone for? Was this what Equalism was truly about, or was this some Wastelander's corruption of it? Isn't the point of harmony to create friendship… some… how? Well, he never really understood either of those terms in any sophisticated way, nor was he certain how they were directly related, but he was certain that killing free will and taking things with swords wasn't friendship. And anything that's not friendship is against friendship, which is evil and insane.

Party Favor shuddered, “Th-… that's crazy!”

“Do not criticize that which you cannot understand, boy.”

“Well you know what? I've decided. I'd rather burn in hell than help you create a hell here on Earth.”

With the glow of the Wanderer's horn, Party Favor was lifted off his hooves, and inch by inch, he was levitated directly over the abyss. “You have chosen poorly,” the Wanderer said. “Goodbye, Party Favor. History will march on without you.”

And just like that, Party Favor was sent down, plummeting, screaming, wailing into the abyss. The blue sky, and the sun that had promised him everything, launched upwards, further and further away from him, until he could hardly see them. The further he fell, the less different looking up was from looking down. Darkness had consumed him. This is what his short, miserable life led up to. The Wasteland grew bored of tormenting him, it seemed. Although he did not know when he would meet his end at the bottom, or if there even was a bottom, he was at least safe in the knowledge that this end was a fitting end.

Chapter 10

As Starlight laid down on a lumpy spring mattress in a cell in the Sanctuary guest quarters, she took a scoop out of her soft stone bowl of bedtime chocolate chip vanilla ice cream, then licked it off her spoon. This chilly sweet treat was a nice way for her to relax for sleep, and to get the foul aftertaste of Brotherhood gruel off her tongue. She was, in fact, surprised that the Wasteland even had ice cream. Apparently, it was all the rage with the Byzuntonian upper class. Equestria, of course, had the technology and infrastructure to mass-produce the stuff, so it was something she took for granted before she came to the Wasteland some few years ago and founded Our Town. But she learned to appreciate the smaller things, and she was sure some slave or poor artisan worked real hard on it. There was some hidden charm to the homemade stuff, after all. It was only a three ounce cup, since upper class delicacies always had a strange habit of being expensive. But she didn't mind. There was no sense in consuming excess calories.

A Brotherhood guard knocked on the door. “Starlight Glimmer,” he said, “you have two visitors. One Imperial stallion, and one Equestrian mare. Would you like to see them?”

'Mare?' Starlight thought to herself, 'I hope Party Favor didn't go bonkers and have a sex change. How creepy would that be, huh?'

“Of course I do!” she called out, raising herself off the bed, “I'll be out right away.” Bringing the ice cream with her, she swung the door open with her magic, and approached the guard. “It is okay if I bring this with me, right?”

The guard shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

She followed the guard to a hallway, where in front of her, the hallway split in two ways, left and right. From the left side, she heard several successions of hoofsteps on the wooden floor. She and the guard stopped. Two guards came out from the left side, followed by the Wanderer and a smiling white earth pony mare with a buzz-cut red mane and blue eyes (the right one cocked to its own extreme right), and whose lollipop cutie mark was branded over with a bent six-pointed star that Starlight couldn't help but feel she'd seen before, and whose back was burdened by a large rucksack; these two were followed by two other guards.

“Why is her flank branded like that?” Starlight whispered to the guard next to her.

“Imperials brand their slaves to mark the slaver guild that they come from,” he whispered back, “makes them more recognizable in case they get picked up by rustlers.”

When the two front guards got within arm's length of Starlight and the guard next to her, they split up and walked back behind the rear guards, allowing Starlight and the Wanderer to come face-to-face.

“Good evening, Miss Glimmer.”

“Oh, hey, Wanderer.” She levitated her bowl and spoon in front of him. “You have to try some of this. It's really good.”

He leaned in to inspect the bowl's contents, but judging his by his silence, he seemed to be at a loss. “Is this supposed to be food?” he asked.

She giggled, a hoof touching her lip. “It's ice cream. Oh, I remember just gorging myself on this stuff when I was a filly. I didn't even know you guys had it!” She took some of it out with her spoon. “Here. Try it.”

After exchanging magical grips on the spoon with Starlight, he lifted up the visor of his helmet and put the spoon in his mouth, then slid the spoon out. He moved the ice cream around in his mouth for a little bit, swallowed, then dropped the visor back down. “Well,” he said, “it is cool, and turns to liquid in the mouth. I do not see what is so special about it.”

“What?” she said, taken aback. “That's what you noticed about it? Its temperature and… and its melting point? How does it taste? Can you tell me how it tastes?”

“Like an apple. Sweet.”

“Are you kidding me? Seriously? Vanilla chocolate chip ice cream does NOT taste like apples.”

“Ah. I see the problem here. Do you recall the time I told you that Imperials are less sensitive to pain than everyone else?”

“Yeah, but I don't see why that means you can't enjoy ice cream.”

“We are less sensitive to pain because we lack the same number of sensory nerves that you do. The senses of taste, touch, and smell are detrimental to a warrior on the battlefield far more often than they are beneficial, so selective pressures have been set against them, in favor of better sight and hearing. This is why we prefer more psychological forms of entertainment, like sports and gladiatorial games. Do you see now?”

She took a little while to digest that, then became slightly disappointed that she'd essentially wasted a bit of her scant supply of frozen junk food. “Okay, yeah. I see now.”

“Now, I have here someone who appreciates sweets far more than average. She did even before she was lobotomized. A confectioner from Equestria who mistakenly believed that the Wasteland was a safe place to find exotic ingredients for her craft, if the merchant who sold her to me is to be believed.” He pointed a hoof to the smiling white mare next to him. “Do introduce yourself to her.”

She stared into that one cocked eye. Something about her was unsettling. Maybe it was the eye, or maybe it was the drool oozing out of one corner of her mouth. She thought that perhaps she should feel sorry for her… but then she realized she was wasting time being a sentimental idiot.

Starlight grinned. “Hi there!”

“Ice ceem!” the mare exclaimed, still smiling.

“Oh! You want the ice cream. Can you tell me your name first, dear?”

“Suckew Pop.”

“Sucker Pop. Okay. Now you can have a scoop.” After taking some out of the bowl, she pointed the spoon to Sucker Pop's mouth. After Sucker Pop opened her mouth, Starlight put the spoon inside, and Sucker Pop bit down. Starlight pulled the spoon out from the weak grip of Sucker Pop's teeth.

“Yay!” She cheered. “What youw name?”

“I'm Starlight Glimmer. Now, I'll give you another spoonful of ice cream if you can answer one thing for me.” She motioned to the Wanderer. “Can you tell me his name?”

“Yes.”

'Excellent.' Starlight thought to herself, 'now I can finally call him by his name and not by this stupid nickname.'

“What is it?” she asked.

“Mastew.”

Starlight groaned. “No, no. I mean his name. Your name is Sucker Pop, my name is Starlight Glimmer, his name is...”

“Mastew.”

“Miss Glimmer,” the Wanderer interjected, “even if I remembered my old name, I would not give it to a slave. Especially not a discount slave. Now, give her the treat, please.”

After sighing and rolling her eyes, she gave Sucker Pop another spoonful of ice cream.

“Wew you be my mommy, Stawight?”

“Aww. How cute! Of course I'll be your mommy.”

“Yay!” Sucker Pop clapped her hooves. “Mommy Stawight.” She ran up to Starlight and wrapped her hooves around her, squeezing so tightly that she found it harder to breathe. Starlight patted Sugar Pop's back; she was shocked at how strong Sucker Pop's muscles were. Her withers were rippled and hard. Her flanks were bulky. She must have been trained to carry things. Which reminded her of something.

“Wanderer,” she said, letting go of Sucker Pop, “can you tell me what happened to Party Favor?”

“Ah. Party Favor. He proved uncooperative, and had to be dispatched. I do apologize. He did not actually mean anything to you, did he?”

“Not much, but he was nice to have around as a familiar face from Our Town. Can you tell me how you did it?”

“I threw him down a canyon.”

“Did you make sure he was dead?”

“I was unable to. The canyon is so deep that the bottom is invisible to the naked eye. Even on the extraordinarily off chance that he survived such a fall, he was surely crippled, so he would have died of thirst, and certainly nobody would have been able to find him in time to rescue him. He is no longer relevant.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“You might be interested to know that there were six young Equestrian fillies who took interest in the lad. He was in their possession before I convinced them to relinquish him to me. One was an alicorn, if you can believe it. One Twilight Sparkle.”

“You wouldn't mean Princess Twilight Sparkle, would you?”

“I thought that title was reserved for the Diarchs. Was I mistaken?”

“Fifty years ago, you wouldn't be. But there have been two alicorn ascendants in very recent Equestrian history, one being Sparkle, and the other being Cadance. I'd already founded Our Town by the time Sparkle was coroneted. I don't know what Celestia's goon squad is doing in the Wasteland, but they can't be up to any good.”

“The child-princess is searching for you. She mentioned you by name.”

“Oh, did she now? So how did you deal with them?”

“I gave them misleading directions. Nothing too spectacular. As going east towards the Federation would have been the proper course, I sent them west, to the Empire and Ruusonia.”

She tried to keep herself from cracking up, but she let a chuckle slip through. “So what do you think is going to happen to them?”

“There is no doubt the Kaiser will take extreme interest in the presence of Equestrian royalty in the Wasteland, let alone within the Empire's own borders. And although the child-princess is probably of great magical power, she would not be able to take on the might of the Legions. In all likelihood, she will be sacrificed to God on Wenn's sacrificial altar, and her five friends will be lobotomized and sold into slavery, as discount slaves.”

Starlight, masking what would've been thunderous laughter, coughed profusely. The thought of magnanimous Princess Twilight Sparkle being so ineffectual in stopping her that she would be killed in spectacular fashion, without even catching a glimpse of her, was a wallop of comedy. However, she didn't want to look too callous in front of the Brotherhood guards, so she decided feigning illness would be better.

“Are you alright, Miss Glimmer?”

“It's fine. I just have a cold, that's all. A jubilant cold,” she said with a wink. “You didn't have that planned, did you?”

“My intention was to lead them astray so that they could not meddle in our affairs. Leading them to their deaths was just an… unfortunate side effect.”

“Yes. Unfortunate. I really am glad I sent you. Sure, you didn't get Party Favor back, but you did do something much better.” She turned to Sucker Pop. “And you got us this cutie! Oh, I could just pinch her itty bitty cheekie weekies.” At the glow of her horn, an aura formed on Sucker Pop's belly. “Who's a pretty baby? Who's a pretty baby?”

Sucker Pop was flung into an intense fit of giggling, and began trampling in place. “Tickews!” She cooed, “stop it mommy. I'm tickwish.”

“Excuse me,” said the guard next to Starlight, tapping her shoulder. “Can you wrap this up please? The Elder is waiting for him.”

“Him? What about me?”

“I'm sorry, but the Elder would rather not burden the fairer sex with the business of stallions.”

“No,” the Wanderer said to the guard, “I will have you know tha-”

“Wanderer,” Starlight interrupted. She motioned him to come closer, so that she could speak with him privately. He lifted up his visor, then leaned in so that she could whisper in his ear.

“Do you not want to know what the Elder has to say?” he said.

“I do, but I'd rather not alienate them over this if I don't have to. I trust you to handle this well enough without me. Besides, I think you can use this to your advantage.”

“Interesting proposal. Tell me more.”

“A big reason for them trusting us in the first place is because I convinced them that I used some Equestrian hoodoo to make you some chivalrous knight in shiny flowery armor. You'd do well to roll with it.” She paused. “Let me play the damsel just this once. It'll give you some leverage in earning their trust, and it'll save you from getting in a dumb argument that we don't have anything to gain from in the first place. All we want from them is their services. We can worry about ideals later.”

“Hmm…” He took a moment to consider it. “Remarkable idea, Miss Glimmer. I will put it into action in my negotiations as soon as is practical.” He put down his visor, then turned to the guard. “I apologize for my outburst. Sometimes, I forget that physical threats are not the only ones from which I should protect her. I am sure the Elder does not need to know about this.”

“Nobody's expecting you to be perfect, Imperial. We're just impressed that you haven't murdered her by now. You will call him Elder Big Rat, or Your Excellency. Copy?”

“Acknowledged.”

“Alright. We only have one room in the Sanctuary open to guests, so you'll find Starlight Glimmer and Sucker Pop in the same quarters.”

“How would we deal with bedding arrangements?”

“One room has one mattress. The rest is your problem.”

“I see. Let us go now. We should not squander any more of the Elder's time.”

“I couldn't agree any more, Imperial. I'll escort the two mares back to your quarters. These four will escort you to the Elder.”

“Of course.” The Wanderer and the four guards behind him turned about-face. Two guards stayed put as the other three moved forward, then continued in the rear of the formation, ensuring that the Wanderer had guards watching him in all directions.

“Good luck!” Starlight said, smiling and waving to him as he left. 'Don't fuck this up,' she thought to herself. She then turned around to follow her own guard back to the bedroom, Sucker Pop following suit with that smile still plastered on her face. She didn't worry too much about the Elder. She was, however, somewhat worried as to whether or not Sucker Pop would make a tolerable roommate.

Starlight didn't bother with unpacking too much before laying back down on the bed. They were leaving tomorrow morning, so there was really no reason for it. All she did was set up Party Favor's old bedroll on the ground. Between that and the mattress, there wasn't much in the way of solid ground to walk on. This room was only meant for one. Sucker Pop seemed to enjoy it though, since she was nestled in the bedroll with a content smile. Starlight didn't know whether Sucker Pop knew that she was a replacement for Party Favor. In fact, she didn't know much about Sucker Pop at all, so she decided it was about time to fix that.

“So, Sucker Pop...”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Is Master treating you well?”

“He tweats me good fow a swave.”

“He doesn't… hit you or anything, does he?”

“Onwy if I mess up. I no mess up much. I got twaining.”

“But he said you're a discount slave.”

“My bwain cut was bad. I smawtew tan most swaves. I was no bown swave, too. Tat no mean I bad at job.”

“Oh. Okay. So, can you tell me where you were born?”

“Ponyvew I tink. Whewe wew you bown, mommy?”

“Oh, me? I was born in Canterlot. Big castles. High class ponies. Princes, scholars, and knights.”

“Whew is Cantewot, mommy?”

“It's right in the middle of the country, on a big mountain. Very big. Can only get there by choo choo train.”

“Choo choo! I wan see choo choo. Can you show me choo choo?”

“There aren't any choo choos for miles, sweetie. But I'm trying to get choo choos here. And factories. That means you won't have to be a slave anymore.” Starlight expected Sucker Pop to scream in sheer and utter joy. However, that didn't happen. Instead, she put on a slight frown, which came as a bit of a shock to Starlight.

“But mommy, I no smawt enough to not be swave. What I do when no mowe swavewy, mommy? I no do hawd bwain stuff wike you ow Mastew.”

“But don't you want your old life back, sweetie?”

“I do miss owd wife, mommy. But if bwain no get bettew, I no can get it. Pwease no take away swavewy, mommy. Not tew my bwain is bettew.”

'She has a point,' Starlight thought to herself, 'this brain-damaged marechild has a point! You know what? I'll have to study up on advanced neurology if I want to abolish slavery here in the Wasteland. More specifically, I'll have to reverse-engineer the lobotomization process so I can nullify it. I think I can make a few additional adjustments as well…'

“Well,” Starlight said, “I think I can find a way to do that. Figuring out how to fix your brain is probably a hop, a skip, and a jump from what I know how to do already.”

Sucker Pop bolted up from her bedroll in elation. “Reawy, mommy? You mean it? Reawy?”

“Really.”

“Reawy reawy?”

“Yes, really really.”

Now she screamed in sheer and utter joy. “Tank you, mommy! Tankyoutankyoutankyou!”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Starlight Glimmer,” said a voice from the other side, “the Imperial is finished with his negotiations with the Elder, and now will be joining you in your quarters.”

“Let him in.” Starlight replied. The door creaked open, and the Wanderer walked in the room, careful not to step on the mattress or the bedroll. “So,” she said, “how'd it go?”

“The Elder is willing to work with us, on two conditions,” he said while shutting the door behind him.

“And those are...”

“The first condition is that we vow to respect the sovereignty of the Principality of Ruusonia, and to never engage in any act of hostility, subterfuge, or domination over her.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Indeed. Which is why we have the second condition, one that is considerably more difficult.”

“Just give me the gist of it.”

“As a token of our commitment, we are to accrue a bronze scepter which belongs to the mayor of Lesbos, a Byzuntonian city-state to the north of Byzuntam, settled along the River Styx Canyon. The Elder does not care how we get the staff, so long as we do not implicate the Brotherhood.”

“Just what's so special about that thing, anyway?”

“Nobody outside the Brotherhood knows this, but the scepter is actually a powerful magical artifact. The Staff of Comets. He who wields it will, every one-hundred years, be able to call a meteoroid down from the heavens and cause a large swathe of destruction anywhere on the Earth's crust. They want to take the scepter before anyone else finds out its usefulness.”

“How long has it been since it was used?”

“Nobody knows for sure, but it has been an heirloom in the mayor's family for about three hundred years, so it is safe to assume it has not been used in that time.”

“It's also safe to assume it'd be hard to just convince them or pay them to let it go, I take it.”

“A likely case. However, the town of Athon, a gold and gem mining settlement, is nearby to the east. Great bands of pirates make their living extorting and raiding the merchant caravans that travel along the Byzuntam-Athon highway. If we were to use all of our money to pay these pirates to raid the small and lightly defended Lesbos, we could take the Staff without implicating the Brotherhood, and weaken a potential threat to our conquest of the Wasteland. Not to mention we would be taking all our money back after dealing with them in their weakened state.”

Starlight put on a devious smirk. “Sounds good. I like it. How'd you come up with that, anyway?”

“One does not become a Centurion in the Imperial Legions without an understanding of strategy, Miss Glimmer.”

“I can imagine so. My dad was a military stallion. A knight. How do you think I learned combat magic?”

“Combat magic is not taught in Canterlot University?”

Starlight shook her head. “Oh, of course not. Intellectuals have no need for combat magic. My dad taught me everything he knew about shields, missiles, and beams, because I was his favorite. He also taught me a little bit about strategy and how armies work.” She scowled. “He wanted a son.”

“He is fortunate to have had you. Had you been born as a stallion in the Empire, I am sure you would have made a fine Legionary.”

Starlight smiled. “Aww. You don't need flattery to get me to like you any more, you know. I like you well enough already.”

“I was being sincere.”

“I know you were. I just don't want you to start getting sappy with me. I prefer you just the way you are. But I am curious. Do you like me, too? Try not to sound sappy with your answer.”

“I admit, for a foreigner, you are… adequate.”

“Oh, come on. You could've made your answer a little sappy. But I'll take it.” She let out a hearty yawn. “It's about time for bed, don't you think?”

“What about bedding arrangements? There is not room for another bedroll.”

Starlight placed a hoof on the mattress and rubbed it. “You can share the bed with me, can't you?”

“Hmph.”

“What's wrong?”

“In the Empire, the sharing of a bed between two individuals is a gesture of immense trust and friendship. Normally, this is only done between two Imperials, and only if they have known each other for at least ten years. We have not known each other for nearly that long, and to share a bed with a ba-… foreigner… is, to say the absolute least, unorthodox.”

Starlight felt somewhat flattered that the Wanderer stopped himself from calling her a 'barbarian'. She figured that it wasn't an honor a lot of non-Imperials got. “Hmm. Let me tell you what. If I ever decide that I want to walk all the way back to Our Town with nothing to show for it except a mentally crippled mare and a leather suit, I'll cut your throat while you sleep. And if you ever decide that you want to keep aimlessly wandering the desert until you drop dead and become food for vultures, you have my permission to cut my throat while I sleep. Okay?”

“Point taken.”

“I'm glad. Now take off that armor, please. I don't want to sleep with a bunch of metal plates rubbing up against my coat.”

He started by removing his helmet. Between the hooded cloak he wore back when she first met him, and the helmet that he wore since their brushing with the Jackals, Starlight never did get a good look at his face, even when he'd lift up his visor to do certain things that required it. There was also the whole thing with him being from a race of genetically engineered super-soldiers, so even knowing his age, it was hard to guess. So she decided now to get a good look at it. And it was… okay. He was a little wrinkled, but more like someone middle-aged, which by Imperial standards, he was. The mane shined and was white as the driven snow, thinning off the top of his head, and had a horrendous case of helmet-hair. He also had a mustache and goatee that went down about six inches. Rugged and unkempt, but still pointed, albeit bluntly. He had a sharp, square jawline and other such hyper-masculine features, but considering that even Imperial mares were masculine by Equestrian standards, this was to be expected. Starlight thought back to that one remark that Shattered Bones back in Brustworth made about Equestrians. “Like those squishy little teddy bears that foreign children play with.” That remark was really driven home here. If everyone else sees Imperials as hyper-masculine, then chances are Imperials see everyone else as hyper-feminine, or at least extremely childlike. Perhaps, she thought, that was why they had such a prevailing siege mentality and xenophobia. Perhaps it was because, in their minds, they were surrounded by vast hordes of dumb, cowardly, weak nances who wanted to destroy them and everything they built because they were jealous of their pure blood and their traditionalist ultra macho military society.

Next, it was the leggings. It was really hard to notice, but he had bronze horseshoes nailed to his hooves. Bronze, probably because Imperials lived for over two-hundred years, and horseshoes made of iron or steel would rust in that time without intensive care. Above his hooves were legs that bulged with rippled, gargantuan muscle. She wasn't too surprised at this, either; she never paid much attention to it, but he did train every morning, and he did it while wearing his armor, which probably meant a lot in a bodyweight regimen. And he did tell her that Imperials had muscles that are both denser and larger than everyone else's, and that they healed faster, which probably meant that muscles regenerated faster after being broken down in exercise. This could have also been why they ate meat. Perhaps they needed more calories and more protein to maintain all that extra muscle and the training that goes with it, so it was likely that they evolved to become omnivores while the rest of ponykind remained herbivores. Now, such a radical change within the relatively minuscule time frame of four-thousand years simply wouldn't happen in the natural course of evolution, but their evolution was not natural, but engineered and self-directed. Magic might have been involved too, but Starlight had never heard of magic that changed an animal's genetic code. She'd be the one to hear about that since it would probably fall under the category of Alteration magic.

Lastly, it was the torso. There were two things about his torso that struck her immediately: visible ribs, and the many poorly healed scars that dotted his skin. Everywhere from his flanks to his neck had scars, which surprised her considering that only a few small scars showed up on his face – scars that she hardly noticed until the topic of scars came to mind. But the one that struck her the most was the big one across his belly. Someone gutted him, and he survived it. Well, that's probably what happened, anyway. But there was one last thing Starlight was interested in all along: his mark. She wondered why he only called them “marks” and not “cutie marks”. Must be an Imperial thing. But what shocked her was just how mundane his mark was: it was a boulder. A plain, simple, beige boulder. She was expecting something really dark and edgy, like a flaming skull or crossed bleeding axes or some such other adolescent tripe, but this made him look like he worked on a rock farm. Starlight kept respectfully silent about everything else she'd seen, but this was just too much. After all, she'd centered her entire life and worldview around cutie marks.

“Wanderer,” she said, “can you tell me how you got your cutie mark?”

“The same way most Legionaries get theirs. First kill.”

“At your graduation ceremony, right?”

“No. Sparring session, during training.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“It was over ninety years ago. There is not much to tell, really. My sparring partner proved weak, I killed him, I got my mark, and the Academy rewarded me for my ferocity. That was also when I was considered for inclusion in the First Cohort, if I remember correctly.”

“Just what is the First Cohort, anyway?”

“The Imperial Armed Forces, also called the Wärmacht, is made up of bands of four-thousand-eight-hundred professional, heavy infantry shock troops. The bands are called Legions, each under the command of a Legate, who answers only to the Wärmarschal, who is either the Kaiser, someone the Kaiser has trusted to lead the army on a campaign, or a regional commander tied to a locality in which his Legions reside. A Legion is made up of nine regular Cohorts, made up of four-hundred-eighty troops each, and one First Cohort, which carries the Legion's standard."

Starlight nodded. "Hm. Interesting. So why does it exist?"

"The purpose of any Imperial Legion is to strike at the enemy where he is weakest with overwhelming force. This goes doubly for the First Cohort. When the Legion forms a wedge, the First Cohort stands at the tip. When the Legion forms a horseshoe, the First Cohort stands in the center. When the Legion forms a line, the First Cohort stands in the extreme right. Crack troops among crack troops, it is expected that a single First Cohort be able to fight more than ten times its own number in degenerates, and come out unscathed. Any less is looked down upon. And should a First Cohort lose, decimation is almost guaranteed.”

“Decimation? What's that?”

“It is an act of purification, for when a Century, Cohort, or Legion has committed a crime so vile that only the death of one-tenth its number can redeem it. Who dies is decided by lottery; those who lose the lottery are flayed alive, then lit on fire, by their own brothers in arms. This is a fate normally reserved for deserters and those who fell asleep at their post.”

“You take your job seriously, don't you?”

“We take our job very seriously.”

“Well, I don't want to go to sleep ending on that note. Let me tell you how I got my cutie mark. We wouldn't even be here if you hadn't found out about it in Our Town, so you should at least know about it.”

“Go ahead.”

Starlight sighed. “I got my cutie mark after failing the entrance exam into the Academy for Gifted Unicorns. Can you believe it? It's ironic, really. Well, I didn't get my cutie mark for failing it, but that is what set it off. Anyway, the task they give you is drawn from a hat, so you don't get to practice it beforehand. They just care about raw talent, not how much you care about studying or, you know, actual work. What they wanted me to do was turn a glass of water into soda pop. What a useless skill to have! To spite them, I turned it into really bad soda pop. It tasted like raw sewage, but it was still a carbonated soft drink, so it was still technically soda. But I didn't know that they judged you not only on your adherence to the letter of the task, but also the spirit. Needless to say, I failed it because it wasn't 'true soda'.

"But some other filly got in. A drooling imbecile if you ask me. I hardly even remember what she was supposed to do. Something simple and equally useless, like breaking an egg. She even had trouble with that! She only did it because of some miraculous sonic rainboom that looked pretty in the sky. Well, she got in, and I wanted revenge. So I stalked the filly until I was sure she was alone. Then I beat her into a quivering, bleeding mess. She was seven and I was fourteen, so it was really easy. But then I was confronted by my parents, and hers. That little brat ratted me out! But I got myself out of it. To make a long story short, I convinced them that she beat herself up from the stress of being in AGU, and I was only trying to comfort her. They bought it hook, line, and sinker. I got my cutie mark. Life went on.”

“But how did you explain your mark?”

“I didn't have to. They just assumed I got it for being kind.”

“A most entertaining note to end on, Miss Glimmer.”

“Please. Call me Starlight. I've had just about enough of you being so formal with me.” She scooted over to the end of the mattress on her left, then rolled onto her left side in the blanket, with the mattress creaking all the while. “I hope there's room for you back there.”

“There is plenty.”

Starlight lifted the blanket up with her magic, letting it hover and wave some few feet over the mattress. He dropped himself on the spot behind her, on his own left side. The blanket was eased down, distributed evenly between the two. Even with the armor removed, the warm body at her back was so large and so heavy that it made the cheap spring mattress sink her into it. She struggled to stay where she was, as she wanted to avoid an awkward situation. For somewhere around twenty minutes, she battled with this grossly inconsiderate mattress.

It didn't seem to bother the Wanderer though. In those twenty minutes, a slight snore came from him. Starlight wasn't terribly offended by his snoring; after sharing a tent with him for so long, she'd come to appreciate a little bedtime white noise. So eventually, she just gave in, and slowly sunk down.

She wondered what would happen. Maybe he would do nothing. Maybe he would wake up and tell her to move. Maybe a war flashback would make him try to kill her in his sleep.

However, none of these things happened. Instead, without waking up, he wrapped his forehooves around her and embraced her in a great, big, bear hug. Now she really was like a teddy bear. She was so small and so young compared to him that she felt like a filly having her father comfort her after she'd come into his bedroom complaining of nightmares. It felt weird. But also really, really comfy.

Chapter 11

Some distance east of Byzuntam, Sucker Pop hummed a gleeful song to herself as she followed her master down the road. The weight on her back felt like a hat to her, which she could've owed to her training and her natural earth pony strength, and to Momma Starlight making sure that she was well fed and hydrated because she liked her. She hummed one of those singing telegram songs that she'd learned in Ponyville, although she'd forgotten the words to it after she was lobotomized. She knew the melodies to a couple other songs as well, one just partially. She was just happy that her master didn't hit her for humming, like her old master did. Beatings conditioned her out of a lot of old penchants, but music was something not even the whip could take from her, since it was the only substitute she had for her true passion: sweets. Master may have been cold and harsh with her, but he was fair and didn't deprive her of this one source of joy; for that, she loved him. She also began to love Momma Starlight as well. After all, she was affectionate, and there was even a sort of kinship with them both being from Equestria, despite her handicap keeping her from even beginning to wrap her head around what that meant. Starlight also promised to fix her brain, which really made her heart sing.

“She really is a pleasant filly,” Starlight said to Master, “so much better than Party Favor. She's sweet and hard-working and doesn't complain at all. Wouldn't you agree, Wanderer?”

“I could not agree more. Given Party Favor's incessant whining and complaining, and his infuriating tendency to ask stupid questions, there really is no comparison. Personally, I would have just let him succumb to the elements, but it was fortuitous that you convinced me not to. The child-princess might have kept him alive and made him a real thorn in our sides, and I would have had to pay a great deal more money for an inferior slave.”

“Why would you have had to pay more money?”

“Simple supply and demand. The Imperial slaver guilds, unlike the smaller independent slavers scattered throughout the Wasteland, can provide quality slaves for a good price.”

“So where'd you get her?”

“I happened to stumble across a traveling merchant from the Imperial town of Sorkrunn, whose specialty lies in discount slaves.”

“You know, for once, I'm kind of glad you decided to go the cheaper route. It would be a bit creepy to have a mindless automaton around all the time. Oh, that reminds me! Did you think about what we were going to do with all the slaves who were lobotomized after we abolished slavery? We can't expect them to adjust well into free life on their own, you know.”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Well, what did you have in mind?”

“The solution I had in mind was to… how to put this… liquidate the maladjusted demographic.”

“Including...”

“Yes. Even her.”

She chuckled. “Oh, Wanderer. You're terrible.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Just give me some time with a few piles of books on neurology and lobotomization. I think I can find a way to reverse the lobotomization process.”

“How much time would that be, exactly?”

“Shouldn't take more than a few months.”

“A few months? To reverse-engineer a process that has been refined and perfected for centuries? That is very optimistic. Perhaps even... naive.”

“Wanderer, need I remind you that I have a thoroughly advanced knowledge and understanding of exactly this sort of thing?"

"Alteration specialists in Equestria do healing, right?"

Starlight nodded. "Right. I know all about anatomy and how the body works. Not to mention a whole lot of other things. I learned how to remove cutie marks all by myself. I don't see why I can't do the same with cerebral reconstruction. And I can apply that same knowledge of the workings of intelligence and thought to create something to help manage the state bureaucracy as well.”

“That being…”

“Well, it's just a thought, and obviously fixing the damaged brains comes first, but I believe that I would be able to not only fix minds, but possibly create them.”

“Hm. Interesting. How would you apply such a skill?”

“A central mind connected to a great network of assets that keep track of things like industrial output, logistics, resource management, waste management, and whatever else is involved in a modern industrial economy. And not only keep track of it, but even manage it itself with programs that I put into it, so that it can break general state policy down to precise numbers that can be put into execution, and give me exact feedback whenever it's needed. A true artificial intelligence, with neither ability nor incentive to do anything it's not supposed to. Something that would tightly control any bureaucracy, if not replace it entirely.”

“I would assume such a thing would enable us to create a more reliable bodyguard, to replace the old and unreliable Praetorians.”

“That's a good idea! We'll do that, too.”

“It cannot be said that you do not have a colorful imagination. You are full of nice-sounding ideas. I would be awestruck if you succeeded in even half of them. Even more so if you did not bankrupt us first.”

“You'd be surprised how much more wealth gets generated in an industrial economy than in a slave economy. We'll have more coins in the treasury than you'll know what to do with.”

“Arrgh,” interrupted a voice from behind a hill to the near left, “what be that I hear about 'coin'?” The three looked to the hill, and from the crest emerged six suave swashbuckling stallions, outfitted in leather cloaks and pirate hats, and all but one carrying a cutlass in his mouth.

She shut one eye and held up one hoof, curled to resemble a hook.  “Arrgh,” she said mockingly, “we were discussin' matters a' politics an' other worldly matters. What concern it be a' yours, ya bunch a' scalawags?”

“We be pirates, don't ya know. Coin be arrgh forte. Especially coin that ain't arrgh's. Yer lives fer a hundred schillings, ye landlubbers.”

“Ugh, come on,” said Starlight, breaking character. “There isn't an ocean for many, many miles! How can you guys call anyone 'landlubbers'? Seriously.”

“That insult be in the book a' pirate insults. We didn't think it to have any relation to an ocean… arrgh!”

“You are some really shitty pirates.”

“Look, just give us the doubloons, and ye won't have no more trouble from us.”

Starlight held a hoof to her chin. “Hmm. How about instead of a hundred, how about we give you...” she turned to the Wanderer, “how many schillings do we have?”

“Eight-thousand-seventy-seven.”

“Really? We have that much and you're still stingy with buying hotel rooms and slaves.”

“One can never be too conservative with coin.”

She groaned, touching a hoof upon her forehead. “Very well. That's how much we can offer if you let me have a word with your captain,” she said to the pirate.

“Arrgh, and what be keepin' us from leavin' ya fer dead an' takin' it fer ourselves?”

Starlight chuckled. “Because nobody has ever made that threat to us before, right?”

“Well, what's to stop us?”

“This,” the Wanderer replied.

At the glow of the Wanderer's horn, one of the pirates had his cutlass magically snatched out of his mouth and spun around, swung down from the right of his head so that his mouth and muzzle were cut clean off, and he was knocked to the ground, on his side. The blood gushing from the gash made a stream running down the sandy hill, and gargled his screams as he was repeatedly hacked in his midsection by his own weapon. After several strikes, a cut was made deep enough to spill his innards and more blood on the searing hot ground. As he continued to bleed out, his screams weakened gradually until they ceased, and he was reduced to a corpse with a mangled torso. As a last gesture, the Wanderer drove the sword into its flank, levitated its hat up from off the ground, and set it down on Starlight's head.

The Wanderer looked back to the pirate. “It suits her, does it not?”

The pirate looked to his dead comrade with a cringe on his face. His eyes were wide as plates, and his lumbs trembled in hear. After taking a shaky breath, he looked back to the Wanderer. “It be dashin'. Really.” He paused. “You've made yer point, but can ye dig a hole an' bury him, please? Havin' arrgh guys dead in places where merchants can see 'em is bad fer business.”

The Wanderer nodded. “Of course. Step aside, would you?”

“... With pleasure, matey.”

With that, the Wanderer walked up to about a foot from the corpse, and the five pirates walked about ten feet further from it. His horn glowed again, and its tip released a roaring flame of such intense heat that Sucker Pop felt it from several yards away. The fire gave the skull on the Wanderer's bone-faced helmet an orange tint as it burned the carcass and its clothing to ash and cinders.

“Wow,” Sucker Pop said. “Pwetty wites…”

It took some time for the body to be completely cremated. The bones that remained, fragile as they'd become, were levitated and brought close enough to him so that he could pummel them to dust with a hoof, then blow them into the wind. All that was left was the blood stains on the sand, which he covered up by magically dumping piles of clean sand over it.

“Ya didn't have to cremate him, matey, but I suppose it serves the same purpose.”

“So you'll take us to your captain?” Starlight asked.

“Just follow me, lass. Arrgh captain ain't too far away. Just up the hill and north a ways.”

Starlight motioned Sucker Pop to follow her, and they met up with the Wanderer before the pirates beckoned the three in their direction.

“You didn't tell me you could do that,” Starlight said to the Wanderer as they climbed the hill.

“The Wärmacht would not have taught me temperature control magic without giving it any combat application.”

“Oh, and another thing…” Starlight put a hoof to her hat and smiled. “Thanks for the gift.”

“You are not actually going to wear that thing around regularly, are you?”

“Hell, no. I think the filly would like it, though.” She levitated the hat off her head, and drew her gaze to Sucker Pop. “Do you wanna play pirate, sweetie?”

“Yay! I pway piwate. Yo ho ho and a bottw of wum!”

Starlight set the hat down on Sucker Pop's head, which got Sucker Pop giddy with laughter. As they followed the marauders to their camp, Sucker Pop began a cheerful humming of a pirate's tune, with Starlight shortly following suit.

The first thing Starlight noticed about the raiders' camp was the wooden frigate which sat at the top of the hill, having been refurbished to be a large house. She wondered how they got a frigate all the way to this remote spot in the Wasteland, and more bafflingly, why. That is, if it wasn't built to be a headquarters in the first place, which raised its own questions. Looking down the hill further, she saw mud brick huts, which made more sense. The short brick wall didn't obfuscate much; it was just a foot above eye-level in height, but this was compensated for with a moat that was infested with snakes. Leering down into the ditch treated the viewer to a barrage of vivid reds, yellows, and other such colors. The Wanderer had already told her to stay away from brightly colored snakes. They were poisonous, after all, and no place in the Wasteland had any effective treatment for snake venom. This pit of reptiles wrapped almost completely around the camp, with the exception of the entrance, which was just a rusted iron gate door, sealed from the inside with lock and key.

“Ye landlubbers just wait here,” the pirate squad leader said, “someone'll open the gate in just a moment.”

“Hey, Wanderer,” Starlight said, “can you stay out here with the filly? She's carrying the money, after all, and I really don't want to have more prying eyes on it than we have to.”

“Have you decided what you are going to say to the captain?” he replied.

“I think I have a pretty convincing story.”

“And you know what you are to ask of them?”

“Raid Lesbos, give us the mayor's staff. Shouldn't be too hard.”

“Good enough. I am not going to interfere with your negotiations, but I am not going to stand out here like a moron either. As soon as you are finished, make your way to the northwest, atop that hill, where I have a good vantage point. It should be easy for you to signal me should you require my assistance, and the money should be relatively safe.”

“Alright. It shouldn't take me long.” She turned to Sucker Pop. “Mommy's gonna talk to the pirates for a little while, okay? Go follow master and help him set up camp.”

“Yes, mommy.”

With that, Sucker Pop turned to the Wanderer, who was already making his way to the hill, then began following him. After a few steps, she happened to catch a glimpse of a snake in the pit whose scales sparkled like pewter under the sun.

She stopped to ogle at the snakes. “Ooh… shiny…” She leaned in to get a closer look with her good eye, but an armor-clad hoof slammed the side of her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs and making her fumble on her legs. When she looked to the direction of the blow, she saw Master giving her a stern look.

“Stay away from snakes,” he said.

Sucker Pop sighed. “Sowwy mastew.”

Starlight was never a huge fan of adventure novels, but she couldn't help but notice how these brigands seemed to go out of their way to hit every pirate cliché she could think of. Lots of skull-and-crossbones flags, lots of swaggering buccaneers with crudely made stuffed parrots strapped to their backs and cutlasses in their teeth, and lots of rum. The fact that they tried to speak with pirate accents through their native Byzuntonian tongue was also rough on the ears, although this was drowned out by the sound of accordions and pianos used by drunken amateurs to play vaguely pirate-esque music. Occasionally, the sounds of clanging cutlasses could be heard as well. These guys were surprisingly fast and accurate for guys with sharpened steel bars held in their teeth.

The pirate motif was, by far, most prevalent in the captain's quarters. It was the actual inside of a wooden frigate, after all; it's hard to out-pirate that. The captain, himself, was an earth pony who had a peg leg in place of his right foreleg, and wore an eyepatch with a skull and crossbones on it to go along with the rest of his captain's costume. He sat on a wooden chair, flanked on two sides by treasure chests, and had a table sitting in front of it. To the table's left was the captain's sword. There were several things that were unusual about this sword. The first thing was that the grip was shaped to fit a full set of teeth, down to every mound and crevice, and looked like it was made from brown rubber within its small steel frame. In front of this grip was a buckler, which was latched on by steel beams, one just below the crossguard and the other just above the pommel. The blade, itself, had its single edge facing the same way as the buckler, and was top-heavy enough to suggest it was a slashing weapon. This was something Starlight hadn't seen before, although it did make a lot more sense when considering its greater practicality to someone without magic; no magic means holding one's weapon in his teeth, and teeth make poor grappling tools, especially for a weapon that's going to be taking and delivering beatings in combat. To the right of the table was a stack of boring-looking paperwork, and at the center was a hardcover book whose energetic colors popped out at her and grabbed her attention. She looked at the book's cover, and it looked strangely familiar. It featured a certain brown pegasus in an explorer's outfit, having a sword fight with a prototypical pirate captain on a wooden frigate. Was… was that Daring Do? It was! Right there on the title: Daring Do and the Cursed Doubloon. How did a Daring Do novel find its way into the Wasteland? Maybe the pirate captain would satisfy her curiosity.

“Arrgh,” he said as he put down the book, “who be this filly? Did a kind buccaneer buy me a wench?”

“Nay, captain,” replied Starlight's escort, “she wishes to negotiate a trade. Eight thousand doubloons.”

“Did ye try stealin' it?”

The escort shook his head. “Nay, captain. The mare's bodyguard was… very persuasive.”

“I don't see him here.”

Starlight smirked. “You don't see any bags of money here either, do you?”

“Why would ye not bring the money here?”

“Do you think I'm stupid? The money is nice and safe with my bodyguard, who's keeping a close eye over your little playhouse here. If I don't like what's going on here, all I have to do is send a flare up in the sky with my horn, and he'll be over here before you can say 'shiver me timbers'. I mean that literally; he can teleport. He's an elite Imperial legionary, too. You really don't want to piss him off. Now, do you want to talk business, or what?”

“Hmm… aye. Any friend of the Empire is a friend of mine. So, what can I do for ye?”

“I need you to raid a town.”

“Raiding, ye say? What town did ye have in mind?”

“Lesbos.”

“That ain't the most lucrative spot to loot, ye know. Three hundred militia. Our motley crew can't assemble nearly that many. There be maybe six hundred pirates total throughout this whole highway, and I'm sure all those other bands will want a cut of the booty.”

“You can take all the spoils you want from the town. All I want is the mayor's scepter.”

“Ah, now that sounds lucrative. And generous on your part. Perhaps... too generous. What's your stake here?”

“Their mayor's family stole that staff from my family generations ago. I raised all this money to see if they would buy it back, but they won't take it. It's really precious to me, you know. Us Canterlot ponies really love our heirlooms.”

The captain raised an eyebrow and leaned his head forward. “So, an Equestrian, are ye?”

“Yeah.”

A beaming smile showed up on the captain's face, and he laughed with excitement. “An Equestrian! Why, I believe it was an Equestrian who wrote this here book,” he said, tapping on the book with his peg leg. “Do ye know the author?”

“I do!” She paused. “I can get you her autograph if you want.”

“This book is precious to me, ye know. Me daughter loved to take it to bed with her every night. Boy, do I miss her.”

“What happened to her?”

Captain let out a heavy sigh and looked down at the table. “I killed her. Not on purpose, though. Had a bit too much of the red stuff during a caravan raid. I came home to find she'd dropped a bottle of liquor on the kitchen floor. A bad thing for a kid to do, sure, but not something deserving of death...” He had a gloomy moment of silence. Starlight figured it was best to feign sympathy for the guy. After all, she'd just hit the emotional manipulation jackpot.

Starlight sighed and let on a somber expression. “Your family means a lot to you, doesn't it?”

“Aye.”

“I'm sure your daughter was a nice filly. I'm really sorry she's not with you anymore. But my family means a lot to me, too. One sentimental gift for another sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it?”

“Aye. I'd give the world just to hear from the mare who made me child so happy.”

“So eight-thousand schillings, any loot you can plunder, and an autograph from Daring Do. All for just one little staff. Is that fair?”

“More than fair. Generous, in fact. Give me a week to muster all the raiders.”

“How much do you want in advance?”

“I really don't care about the money. That's just a means to an end. All I care about is the autograph.”

“So we'll pay it all after the fact.”

The captain nodded. “Aye.”

“Alright. I think we're done here for now.”

“Aye.” He turned his head to Starlight's escort. “Send the kind mare off, will ye? I… I need some time alone.”

“Aye, captain.”

'Mission successful' Starlight thought to herself. Although she couldn't smile in front of the captain, she was smiling in her mind. This big idiot was eating out of her hooves. 'Oh, the look on his face when I come back with an army instead of an autograph,' she thought. 'It's gonna be priceless.'

She made her way back to the camp that the Wanderer set up. It wasn't hard to find; he'd been considerate enough to start a fire with plenty of smoke going up. When she got there, she found the Wanderer with his visor up, snacking on a bit of hard-tac while watching Sucker Pop draw doodles in the sand with her hoof.

“I'm back!” Starlight said.

“Mommy!” Sucker Pop exclaimed. She galloped to Starlight, then squeezed her in a tight hug.

“Did your talk with Captain Blowhard go well?” the Wanderer asked.

“It went really well,” she replied. “They'll be outnumbering the Lesbos militia two to one, and we'll definitely be getting the staff.”

“Do they have any inkling of the real reason for us wanting it?”

“Not the slightest.”

“What did you tell them was the reason? Just curious.”

“Let me tell you the whole story. You'll love it, I promise.”

And so she told him everything, peppering her anecdote with laughter here and there. She told him about the whole pirate act, about the Daring Do novel, about the autograph, about the dead daughter, everything. This evoked a reaction from the Wanderer that she had never, ever seen before. He did something that she doubted was ever likely to happen, or even was possible. He… chuckled.

“That is humorous,” he said.

Chapter 12

Starlight stood in her camp on a hill, watching as the raiding party finally, at the crack of dawn, came within eyeshot just a mile away. She'd grown tired of waiting, as it had taken two weeks and three days for all the raiders near the Byzuntam-Athon highway to gather their numbers and build their siege equipment. “Siege equipment” may be a bit generous – it was a basic battering ram. No more was necessary, though. Lesbos had just a simple mud palisade with a wooden gate. Captain Blowhard led the band of brigands with his own contingent of about sixty costumed buccaneers, who stood out among the more practically outfitted crowd. Each group of ten to thirty raiders had its own captain among them, who could always be discerned by a bobcat hood, a horned helmet, a feathered band, or some other such crude adornment on the head. It was clear that Blowhard was only the leader of this raid because he had the biggest gang of brutes, and even then, it was mostly nominal. It was a loosely organized bunch of, not six-hundred, but more like eight- or nine-hundred.

Starlight groaned. "Took 'em long enough, didn't it?"

The Wanderer walked up beside Starlight. “Let me see...”

He stared at the raiders in silence, the look in his eyes blank as usual. She looked up at him to see if she could find clues as to what he was thinking, but his frozen demeanor revealed nothing. However, even though his face did well in hiding his thoughts, and his helmet was superb in hiding his face, she'd been with him long enough to guess that he was probably evaluating their effectiveness as a fighting force. A distinct expression would tell her what conclusion he'd likely came to from such an evaluation, but alas, she had to ask him directly.

“So, what do you think? Do we have this in the bag?”

“I would not be so sure.”

“You think we could lose then?”

“That is a strong possibility.”

“Why do you say that?”

The Wanderer looked to Starlight. “They have a highly decentralized command structure. They are undisciplined. Their equipment is sub-par. They are attacking a fortified position where they will be bottlenecked at the gate. Their leadership is inexperienced. Need I go on?”

“They have a three to one advantage.”

“Numerical advantage means nothing when space does not allow its exploitation.”

“Well, it's just militia. Just how much better than raiders can they possibly be?”

“The Wasteland has no shortage of veterans. Even a militia can be quite potent.”

“I don't see why.”

“Because you are an Equestrian.”

“Well, what does that have to do with anything?”

“When you think of a conscripted force, you think of timid little boys, none of whom have had even a playground scuffle in their lives, drilled with toy swords for a week then sent off to battle in the hundreds of thousands to scare off Changelings, Griffins, Zebras and other such scum that only they are incompetent enough to require greater numbers to fight.”

“Oh, I get it. Militias here are better than in Equestria because this place sucks.”

The Wanderer looked back to the raiders to the distance. “That is one way to put it.”

“So do you think we'll win this, or not?”

“It could go either way. It is dawn, and the gate is on the east side of the town. The sun favors the raiders for the time being, and the militia is likely tired from interrupted sleep. If raiders are good at anything, it is capitalizing on the element of surprise.”

A moment of silence. “And what do we do if we lose?”

“I do have a secondary course of action in mind.”

“Can you tell me what it is?”

“You do not want to know.”

She put a hoof to his face, then locked her eyes with his. “Wanderer. You know you can trust me, right? Haven't I done enough to earn your trust?”

“Indeed you have,” he said as he put her hoof down with his own, “which is why I would trust you to trust me as well. Now, no more words.” He turned to the gate. “It looks like they are just about ready for their first assault.”

The ram was lined up to the gate, with somewhere around two-hundred raiders making the first strike. At the Captain's orders, it was rolled up as rocks were being flung at them from over the wall. As they lacked accuracy, the majority of them dug into the sand or bounced harmlessly off the ram's roof, but some of them managed to land on a head or spine, which put whoever they hit out of action in any case. The raiders looked upon their fallen comrades with cold indifference as they inched closer to their first milestone. A large stallion wearing a winged helmet led the charge from the front, keeping his composure and his toothed grip on his sword through even direct hits to the head with solid rock. After some time, the ram got to the gate. The large stallion leaped on top of the ram and brandished his sword, letting the rising sun give it a near-blinding shimmer that inspired those raiders around him. The gate crunched at the ram's repeated slamming against its face; each crunch echoed through the air. As the gate loosened, one could see glimpses of the large plank that sealed it from the inside. The gate's collapse soon followed, and not two seconds after, a ballista bolt from the other side punched through the large stallion's chest and sent him flying off the ram to writhe in the sand. But this did not deter the first wave of raiders as they funneled into the gate. They fought. The fighting lasted some time, with nothing discernible happening from behind the walls except for the clanging of metal and the anguish-filled screams of the wounded and the dying. The Captain and everyone else whom he'd kept in reserve watched as the first wave slowly withered away. It wasn't long until they, reduced to just under half their number, turned their backs to the fighting and ran off in a state of disarray, back to their little forts along the highway.

“One bad attack isn't the end of the world, right?” Starlight asked the Wanderer.

“Of course not,” he replied, “it would be foolish to expect a decisive victory in the first act. I remember being involved in a few sieges, myself, back in my youth. Those were good times.”

The Captain called fourth the second wave, slightly larger and having a few squads of pegasus raiders who carried in their mouths deep bowls filled with tiny cast iron caltrops. As most of the raiders swarmed the gate just like those before them, the winged ones flew above the walls and dumped their caltrops on specific points behind the walls, likely behind and on top of the defenders' ranks. This wave fought much longer than the previous one, to the point where they showed no signs of stopping even as the sun rose higher and the sky turned blue. However, at some pivotal event that nobody outside the walls could witness, the second wave turned tail and scattered back out of the walls. Nobody knew how many more armed citizens were left in Lesbos, but there were only four-hundred raiders left dedicated to fighting, and the majority of them were gorging themselves on all the booze they could carry in their flasks. Some raider chieftains got themselves an audience with the Captain, himself, all of them giving him a particularly angry piece of their mind. The Captain, staying steadfast, stomped a hoof on the ground and said some choice harsh words, prompting a couple chieftains to abandon the raid with their subordinates. But the rest stayed, probably in the hope that the militia was on its last leg.

“That idiot better have a trump card ready,” Starlight muttered.

The third and final wave stormed the town, with the Captain leading from the front. Foolhardy as he may have been, it couldn't be said that he wasn't brave. Fighting continued on until well into the afternoon, with the sun sitting in the west rather than the east. Starlight felt as if her nerves were tying themselves into knots, so worried she was about this turning out poorly. She looked back to Sucker Pop, who'd occupied herself with chewing on the loose flaps on the tent. Strangely enough, biting a piece of cloth didn't look like that stupid an idea to her now, but she considered it best to maintain her composure, at least outwardly. She turned her gaze to the battle again, just in time to see the Captain, himself, being launched up from inside the city with a ballista bolt impaling his belly, landing square on his spine atop the mud-brick wall. Starlight could practically hear the bones crunch from where she stood. Following this was a massed retreat of all the raiders who still yet lived. There was not a single raider left who would threaten the city of Lesbos. The plan had failed.

Starlight pounded the earth beneath her with a hoof. “Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!”  With her veins searing with anger, she shot a cutting glare at the Wanderer. “Your stupid plan didn't work. Three to one, and they… ugh. What happened!?”

“What I had halfway expected to happen. Such a pity. It looks as if I will have to take control of the matter myself.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“In all my years, I have only had to do this a single time. Now, I must do it once more.” He walked away from Starlight, in the direction of Lesbos, and looked back at her. “For your own sake, do not meddle in this affair.”

“You get back here,” she barked. He ignored her, looking forward and continuing on his way. “Do you hear me?” she yelled, “I said GET BACK HERE NOW!” She felt a tap on her side. Snapping her head in that direction, she saw Sucker Pop's deeply concerned face.

“What's wong, mommy?” she asked.

“What's wrong? WHAT'S? WRONG? You little brat, I AUGHTA-” She had a hoof ready to whack Sucker Pop in the face, but strained to stop herself at the last second. There was no sense in taking her anger out on this poor marechild. With a sigh, she let her hoof down and looked to the ground.

“Is thew somethin' I can do fow you, mommy?”

She looked back up to see Sucker Pop's still worried expression. “I'm sorry, sweetie. You know, I hate not knowing what's going on. And I don't know why he won't tell me what this thing is that's oh so secret that I can't know anything about it.”

“Don't you twust him?”

“It's just… what if he doesn't come back? I'd have nobody to get me the Gem. I'd have nobody to tell me the things I need to know about the places here. I wouldn't even have anybody to get me back to Our Town! And… and… and…”

“You'd miss him?”

“No!” She paused. “Well… I… I just might. I just might miss the old bat. I never thought I'd say that about anyone. You know, at first, I was planning to… ever so gently drive a metal cutting implement into his backside once I'd taken the Wasteland for myself. But we work so well together, and he's been really open-minded about this whole equality thing. Plus he knows the Wasteland a lot better than I do, and a few other things as well. Maybe I would feel better keeping him around.”

Sucker Pop gasped, and as she grinned, her good eye lit bright as the stars. “Does tat mean I'ww have a daddy?”

“Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. But I'm not in my twenties anymore, and it's not like I'm getting any younger. Time will tell, I guess.” She looked out to the town of Lesbos. In she distance, she could see the Wanderer standing motionlessly in front of it, still as the rocks and hills around him. She did wonder what he was doing, but he warned her not to interfere, and her eyelids were getting heavy from all this suspense. “I'm gonna go take a nap now. Don't talk to strangers, okay sweetie?”

“Okay, mommy.”

She dragged herself into the tent and slipped into her bedroll. Closing her eyes in the cool shade gave her a rush of relief. Rest was sorely needed.

The Wanderer had stood still in front of Lesbos for a bit over half an hour, waiting for Starlight to come to him on the likely chance that she didn't heed his warning. After all, once he'd committed to this act, there would be no turning back, and he would have neither control nor awareness if she was foolish enough to get in his sights once he'd delved into Blütfury, a state of utter madness and rage that only stopped when no other living creature could be seen, heard, felt, smelled, or tasted. The Academy taught all its budding Legionaries this technique in case they were captured alive in battle and put into interrogation. It required many hours of deep meditation, but once it was engaged, the Legionary did not know fear, nor pain, nor fatigue. Indeed, it has been said that Planetvoid, himself, was in Blütfury when he slayed one hundred Equestrian warriors entirely on his own. The concept of Blütfury was simple: Either the Legionary, after having slaughtered his captors wholesale, could escape and return to his Legion; or he would die with any information he could have possibly provided to the barbarians, and cause a great deal of damage in any case. However, the Wanderer was applying it a very unorthodox manner. With Blütfury, he intended to singlehandedly raze Lesbos to the ground and eliminate as many potential witnesses as possible, then pick up the Staff from the town ruins.

Once he was sure that Starlight wasn't coming, he closed his eyes and, in his mind, pictured a sight of entirely nothing but a deep red, and endlessly repeated the simple mantra: Blood. Fire. Death. He kept a rapid breathing pattern, inhaling or exhaling with each part of the mantra. He kept his muscles as still as possible. There was no deviating from this precise mental and physical routine, and even the slightest error could nullify any progress made into Blütfury. The Academy was the only institution in the entire world that could teach the level of discipline needed to successfully reach this state of mind. He could not keep track of time passed, nor thirst felt, nor any of his surroundings. His mind had to entirely consume Blütfury. And once his mind had consumed Blütfury for long enough, it, in turn, consumed his mind. At that very moment, Blood, Fire, and Death, were all he knew.

At the dead of night, Starlight was jolted out of her nap by explosions. 'Oh, no!' she thought, 'Is this the apocalypse?' She stuck her head out of the tent to find Sucker Pop ogling at the town of Lesbos, which was consumed in flames, and buildings were obliterated in quick succession by explosions.

“Sucker Pop,” she called out, “what's going on over there?”

“Wook mommy! Fiyewooks. Mastew make fiyewooks.”

She dashed out of the tent and next to Sucker Pop. Within the booms, bangs, and screams echoing from the town, she could make out a crazed mantra, booming, echoing in a familiar bass. “BLOOD. FIRE. DEATH. BLOOD. FIRE. DEATH. BLOOD. FIRE. DEATH.” She felt her jaw try to touch the ground, and all words pour out of her mouth before she could turn them to speech. So, this was it? This was Plan B? Kill everything? She was expecting something a little more… well, nuanced. But she supposed 'kill everything' worked, too, although she didn't know why it had to be kept a secret. Maybe that chanting had something to do with it. It really did look like the apocalypse down there, and it was probably wise not to get involved. It was a while since she got to see a good firework show.

As the red haze began to melt away, the next thing the Wanderer saw was the headless body of a great, muscled grey stallion draped in a blood-soaked toga fitted with patches of purple cloth. He thought it strange that a Byzuntonian should wear a toga of any color, let alone part purple. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he chose purple. Purple was the Kaiser's color, and only the Kaiser was allowed a toga fully colored purple, with the penalty for anyone else wearing one being crucifixion. He moved his eyes and head around to evaluate his surroundings. There was the crackle of burning wood in the air, and the smell of rot and ashes. The first thing he saw was a desk, in the corner of the room. On there, he saw a half-full bag of coins, an Imperial seal, a Federation seal, and a written note. With his magic, he picked up the note and read it:

To: Our Glorious Kaiser Shattered Dreams

From: Your Great-Great-Great Uncle Igneous

Please forgive my crass informality and lack of Reichschpeak, but I don't have ample time to write this. My town is under fire. We were attacked by a large contingent of raiders and other assorted criminal scum. Ingrates! Our guilds buy their slaves for a fair price, not even counting lobotomy costs, and look how they repay us! We could just barely repel them. But no, that is not the worst part. No. It is far worse: We have a traitor in our midst. As I write this, he is demolishing what little remained from the raider attack, no doubt in a state of Blütfury, and he is fast approaching my own office. Now, I am elderly, and I am in no condition to defend myself against a berserk Legionary, so this letter will be the last one you ever receive from me, if you do receive it. I implore you, dearest nephew, to sic the Secret Service on this heretic. He is n

The letter stopped there. The Wanderer burned it to cinders, knowing full well how dangerous it would be to have the attention of the Kaiser this early. He concluded his business on the desk by stuffing both seals in the bag, and tying the bag around his ne-… there were intestines wrapped around his neck. Like a scarf. He levitated this health hazard off his neck and tossed it carelessly aside, watching it plop down on the floor, then tied the bag around his neck. He looked even more around the room. To the right side of the desk was a window. It looked like he was on the second or third floor of the building, as he had a pretty overhead view of all the carnage he'd wrought to the town. Corpses and all the gory bits which littered the streets were illuminated under the night sky by the blaze of the burning ruins, and there was not a single survivor in sight. Just as planned, although he couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. On the left side was Uncle Igneous' plucky young wife, clearly violated in all manner of unspeakable ways. One thing of interest was that, unlike Igneous, the wife was not of the Imperial build. No, she was too small and petite. Byzuntonian, clearly. Looking around more, he could find some damaged books and art pieces scattered throughout the room, but not the one thing he was looking for. The Staff. He turned around to the hallway which led to this room, and crossed it with deliberate step, ever on the lookout for hidden doorways and latches. He kicked a great many doors open and ransacked a great many rooms, making sure to collect any coins he found in the process.

After a prodigious amount of looting, he descended the stairs down into the first floor, where he found a very surprising sight: a survivor! Yes, a tiny little unicorn filly in short pigtails, who levitated a shining bronze scepter which depicted a hand clutching a meteoroid. Quickly scanning this filly, he noticed something about her mark: she didn't have one. But there she was, staring him down with furrowed brows and biting glare. If there ever was a mark for moxy, she would have gotten it by now.

“Greetings, little filly,” the Wanderer said to her.

“You big bully!” she shouted. “You killed my family. Tell me why.”

“I do apologize. All I wanted was that scepter which you now carry. Now, if you are a good little girl, then you will relinquish the scepter to me, and I will end you mercifully.”

“No. This is daddy's scepter. I'll guard it with my life!”

“You do understand that you only make this more difficult for yourself, correct?”

“Do your worst. I loved daddy, and I love his scepter.”

“I see. Have you ever heard of 'death by irony'?”

“What? Iron? You're killing me with iron?”

“Hmph. It is a shame that you are so lacking in education. Suffice it to say I am killing you not with iron, but rather, with bronze.”

With that, he snatched the staff out of her magical grip with his own, and made a powerful swing at one of the filly's legs with its heavy tip end. She collapsed, wailing in pain and tears as her assailant continued bashing her legs. One after another, the Wanderer took swings at her limbs, taking care to pause with each one to let her appreciate them in their fullest. Once movement in the limbs ceased, he turned his attention to the ribs, which audibly cracked with every whack. It was at this moment that, inside his helmet, he smirked ever so subtly. Sure, he was doing his torture in such an uncouth fashion and not with some grand Dark Arts technique, but the greatest joys in life are often the simplest. However, he eventually ran out of bones to shatter, and as much as he liked the idea of just leaving her there, it wouldn't be practical. So he bashed her skull in until her cries vanished, and her brains oozed from cracks in her head. This might have made the staff a bit messier than it could've been, but he was going to clean it up anyway. And his armor too, since neglecting to scrub blood stains off one's metal suit always has been, and always will be a great way to attract unwanted illness and rust. So he started his ascent back up the stairs to do just that, then rest in Uncle Igneous' bed for the night, figuring the town hall might as well have had one last use before he demolished it.

Yet another explosion woke Starlight up from sleep. This time a little past dawn the next day. Her vision was a bit blurry from eye crust, but she saw Sucker Pop wake up in the bedroll next to her.

“Mownin', mommy,” said Sucker Pop.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Starlight replied.

“Mastew come hew now, yes?”

The Wanderer said, from the other side of the tent, “I am present.”

After cleansing her eyes of crust with her magic, Starlight exited the tent and turned her head to him. There he was, with the scepter levitating next to him and a large bag around his neck. The bag brought attention to his armor, which glistened in the sun even more than it usually did, and was near-completely free of sandy dust and even the red and black paint that it had for as long as she'd remembered, letting the dual lightning bolts on each flank shine in their blazing white glory against the less lustrous gray plates.

“Oh, look at you!” Starlight said. “My chivalrous knight in shining armor has returned from his quest to bring back the magical plot device. Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

“Without me.”

“I hope the slave was good company, at least.”

“She was, as always.”

“It turns out Captain Blowhard's motley crew were quite close to taking the town for themselves. Driving them out was a last ditch effort for the town mayor.”

“Hm.”

“Interesting fact about the mayor. He was an Imperial. And not just any Imperial, either.”

“Oh? And just what was so special about this guy?”

“He was a relative to the Kaiser.”

She chuckled. “Well, that settles it, Wanderer. You are now officially a traitor. I hope you're proud of yourself.”

“Even Celestia and Luna were traitors at some point. It just means we are making progress.”

“Way to put a positive spin on committing high treason.”

“Says the one who founded a renegade town full of brainwashed cultists,” he said with a playful poke at her chest.

“Hey! They're not cultists. They're fanatics. Big difference.”

“Cultists, fanatics, same thing.”

Placing a hoof on her chin, she feigned a ponderous look. “Hmm… well, I guess calling them cultists wouldn't be a complete lie." She paused. "So, about this scepter. Where is the Brotherhood supposed to pick it up from us?”

“Athon. Crimson Light brothel. Comrade Bright will be there to pick it up.”

“Bright? The guy who can barely talk?”

“The very same.”

Chapter 13

The glimmering marble structures of Athon, rivaling those of even Byzuntam, did not have their beauty obstructed by a wall or palisade of any kind. This lack of fortification had Starlight raise an eyebrow at her first sight of it. Although she'd spent most of her life in a world where hardly any cities or towns had walls, she'd been in the Wasteland long enough to find a wall-free city to be starkly unusual. Even bands of common thugs made the time to build at least a modicum of defenses, yet here was this trade hub, this undisputed master of the gem and precious metal markets, left entirely out in the open. Of course, few of the town's buildings were marble – the rest were brick and mud shacks in varying states of disrepair, as per Federation norm – but they were nevertheless a sign of great wealth and prestige for the city as a whole. These structures even had inhabitants (although few), unlike the Federation capitol, and they didn't look even the slightest bit concerned over their lack of a wall. Instead, their expressions showed that they felt safe, content, and even happy. A genuine rarity in the Wasteland.

Crimson Light brothel was in this more wealthy district, which Starlight had appreciated, since that meant there was no more dealing with leprous paupers or lecherous hoodlums. These were high-class folk, like the ones she knew growing up in Canterlot. However, as class in Equestria was largely determined by one's birth, class in the Federation was largely determined by one's access to shady political connections. So as one was just as likely to meet a pleasant Canterlot noble as he would a noticeably rude or pompous one, he would be hard-pressed to find an upper class pony in Athon (or anywhere else in the Federation, for that matter) who wasn't either thoroughly unpleasant in demeanor, or kind only on the most superficial levels. The latter was the more illustriously adorned in the vast majority of cases.

The city, itself, was empty on such a palpable level that it was practically a ghost town. At least according to posters on the walls which were barely worn, the Byzuntonian Prime Minister had called for a complete evacuation. Those few who remained, mostly the elderly and the foolishly stubborn, stayed in their homes. The streets were completely empty, with not so much as stray garbage to break up their homogeneity. The city was bleak from its lifelessness, but also breathtaking from its unmolested grandeur. It was as if time had frozen just so they could marvel at all the sights that the place had to offer.

When Starlight had finally entered Crimson Light, there was only a single pony there. That brown pegasus, Comrade Bright, who wore a somber expression as he watched the three enter from behind the receptionist's counter. The colossal lobby was stripped of all furniture and décor that wasn't built in, making it feel like a shiny white abyss where the only color came from the sky, through a window.

Bright shot a glare at the Wanderer. “You have much to explain, Imperial.” His embittered voice echoed throughout the spacious structure.

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Well, hello to you too, 'comrade'.”

“Are you not know what he did? Please tell me you are not of knowing.”

“Oh. That. Did that jeopardize things?”

“No. Wasteland is thinking it was crazed lunatic, not Brotherhood.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Bright slammed a hoof on the ground. “He kill thousands for dumb staff. What hell? I was think you reform Imperial, yet he do this horrible thing.”

Starlight groaned and pressed a hoof in between her eyes. “He's still learning. Do you know how hard it is to break years, even decades of conditioning and make real psychological change? Do you know that ponies spend years regularly consulting with nurses to fix eccentricities that are tiny by comparison? He's never going to be perfect, and I'm going to be an old mare before he gets even halfway there. So, what do you expect? Would you have me zap him with some sugar-beam or do some pretentious moral grandstanding to reform him overnight? Sounds like a fairy tale to me, and a profoundly infantile one at that.”

“But you would think 'mass murder is wrong' would be top priority lesson.”

“If I may interject,” the Wanderer said, “I did not do it out of sheer malice. I was firm in the belief that I was being virtuous.”

Bright's eyes, one of which started twitching, widened to an absurd size, and he was left with mouth agape for a brief moment. “How… how on Sol's scorching desert did you come to conclusion that to kill thousands of innocent was virtue?”

“Mayor Igneous was unforgivably rude to my dear little filly here.” He gave Starlight's back a casual rub, at which Starlight couldn't help but smirk. “I take a very dim view to those who speak abusively to those for whom I care. I felt that I would have best served justice burning him and his town in purifying fire in to order to defend her honor.”

Bright, hesitant once again, looked to Starlight. “Is this true? Did thousands die because town mayor call you bad name?”

'Well,' thought Starlight to herself, 'I guess I can roll with this. It's so absurd, yet strangely in-character, that it might actually work.' Drooping her eyelids and frowning, she said, “Yeah. It's true. Igneous called me a stupid, ugly hag.” She winced at that last part. “I told him that it's good to stick up for your friends, and that's the way he decided to do it. I tried to stop him, but he was dead-set on it.” She despondently dropped her gaze down to the floor. “I feel terrible about it.”

“Is he of feeling bad about it, though?” He looked to the Wanderer. “How do you feel about what you did?”

“I will admit that I am not happy about it. However, I would like to know how word of this got out to the rest of the Wasteland.”

“There were maybe two or three survivor who escaped your rampage. News in Brotherhood spread quick, but will probably reach Prime Minister and Kaiser very soon if it hasn't by now. No doubt they will be of wanting your head for this. Glimmer's, too, just by association.”

“So. The die has been cast.” He turned to look to Starlight. “There is no turning back for either of us now. Are you comfortable with that?”

“You know what? I'm fine with it. Wenn or bust, I say. It's not like I was ever gonna get anywhere with that rinky dink cottage, anyway.”

A sigh left Bright's chest. “Well, you did not implicate Brotherhood, and Elder Big Rat is not of caring about your disgusting, atrocious act, so he is fine with it. Good for you, I guess. Now, give me staff, please.”

Starlight turned her head to Sucker Pop, who carried the staff on her back along with the rest of their belongings. At the glow of her horn, the staff was lifted off the luggage load and set down on the counter; the sound of bronze panging on marble filled the building with its own echos.

“Okay, good,” Bright said, “and before you go, one more thing. The purple alicorn, Twilight Sparkle, found out where you are going. She is fast approach the Mount Athon, travel by wing.”

“The child-princess?” the Wanderer said. “How did she accrue this information? And what of her five friends?”

“Answer one: Apparently, she is have map that give her location to important thing. What it thinks is important, I can't know, but she is expecting Starlight there, and maybe you too. Answer two: They are of having safety and security in their home Ponyville, in Equestria. Somehow, they dodge Secret Service long enough to travel back home.”

“I see the child-princess is not so haughty as to believe that her ill-conceived platitudes would thwart the Legions' might.” He looked to Starlight. “You Equestrians do not actually adhere to the idea that friendship is literal magic, do you?”

“Of course not. That's just a saying we have.”

“Please elaborate.”

“Magic is fueled by willpower and emotion, and friendship is not an emotion. You know that. When we say 'friendship is magic', what we mean is that those emotions accompanying bonds of friendship bolster magical power. One could say 'rivalry is magic', and that would also be true for much the same reason, but the Equestrian philosophy values kindness and cooperation, and friendship is obviously more conductive to that than rivalry.”

“Look,” said Bright, “you two can discuss unicorn thing in own time. Go get gem. Go. Leave. You should waste no more time.”

“Agreed,” said Starlight and the Wanderer in unison.

They turned around and exited the brothel, with Sucker Pop closely following suit, understanding that although they'd passed the point where the die was cast, their actions after this point would determine whether they'd rolled snake eyes or a lucky twelve.

Chapter 14

Looking at Mount Athon from the base to the tip, one would gaze in awe at the long winding trail carved straight from the rock, going as far up as the clouds. It was the largest mountain in the entire Athon mountain range which bordered both the eastern and southern fringes of the Wasteland. The trek took some few days of hiking to reach the end of the trail, near the snow-covered peak. No rest was had, unless for sleep. This was a race, against the forces of both Equestria and the Empire. Two fundamentally different cultures, both obstacles to the future of societal structure. Of course, it was easy to guess what the Empire would have planned: killing the three adventurers would be sufficient to put at ease the mind of the Kaiser. However, the Equestrian plan was harder to discern. It was clear that their focus of interest was on Starlight Glimmer, but the reason for this was unknown. According to Comrade Bright, she who represented the Equestrian force was simply following the arbitrary direction of a magical map. So, then, not even the Equestrian force knew the Equestrian plan. That did not necessarily mean there was no Equestrian plan, unless the map's direction was truly and wholly arbitrary. If it was not arbitrary, then one would go back to the original question: Who would single Starlight out for this sort of attention, and why? And if it was arbitrary, then yet another question would be raised: Why was such a nominally important political figure be allowed to go on far-off wild goose chases out of the naive assumption that this map's directions meant anything?

Although he'd pondered such questions throughout this trek, the Wanderer stopped thinking about them when he and Starlight made it to the end of the trail. In the mountain, itself, there was a gate of solid steel, with the image of two alicorns, and a wing-spread eagle perched atop the point where the alicorns' horns touched. His veins turned to ice as he drank in this critical moment, this closing chapter to his old life as a wandering vagabond. He turned his head down the mountain, seeing the entire Wasteland before him. This, in its entirety, was the place where he had lived for over a century, his entire life. He began losing himself in all the memories of the past, but this was broken when Starlight put a hoof to his head and dragged his gaze onto hers.

“No reminiscing about the past. We focus on the future. Okay?”

“Of course.” He turned back around to face the gate, then bowed his head down so that the tip of his horn was at eye level with Starlight. “Whenever you are ready.”

He watched as she positioned herself next to him, then met the tip of her horn with his. After a quick flash of light from their tips, the mountain rumbled, and inch by inch, the gate dragged itself open. It was an empowering sight, seeing the culmination of all their efforts before his very eyes.

Once the gate was completely ajar, a clang rung from within it, and from the cave inside spoke a booming voice. “Those who seek Wolfram's aid will have their worth tested.”

The two lifted their heads back up. “So, your god's name is Wolfram?” Starlight asked.

“Correct.”

She put on a sardonic expression. “He sounds like a charming guy. Can't wait to meet him.”

They began their walk into the cave, and made it only a few feet in before being interrupted by a shrill voice behind them.

“Stop!” it screamed.

The Wanderer looked back, and saw none other than Princess Twilight, descending down from the sky and onto the snowy ground. He turned around, with Starlight shortly following suit. “Ah. Miss Sparkle. We meet again. What brings you here?”

“W-… wha-… Good Favor? What are you doing here? What are you doing with her?”

Starlight put a hoof to her lip and giggled. “Wanderer, you told her your name was Good Favor?”

“I did,” he replied, “I also told her that Party Favor was my grandson.”

“Oh, you're too much!”

Twilight snarled in a menacing grimace. “You mean neither of those things are true? Why did you lie to me? And to my friends?”

“Do not take it personally,” the Wanderer replied, “I simply could not allow you to keep me from tying up a loose end. I hope her highness does not hold a grudge over a little white lie.”

“I want to know what you did with Party Favor. Now.”

“I already answered one of your questions. I would like one of my own answered before I answer another one of yours.”

Twilight stamped a hoof in the snow. “No. You tell me where Party Favor is now.”

The Wanderer shook his head. “Tsk. Now, child. That is no way to negotiate.” He looked to Starlight. “Would you agree?”

“I would,” she replied.

The Wanderer looked back to Twilight. “Surely, one of regal status such as yourself would honor fairness and civility in discussion.”

“Hmph. Fine. Ask your question.”

“My question is as follows: What is your business here, and why does it concern Miss Glimmer?”

“Well, I was sent to her town by the map in the Friendship Castle. It wanted something fixed, and her town clearly needs fixed.” She paused. “Everyone's cutie mark is gone. Locked away in a vault. The town mayor wouldn't even let me and my friends in, except he told me he wasn't the mayor, but this one you're with right now is!”

“Oh?” Starlight interjected, “And how would you know anything about a town that you've never been in?”

“I've seen the emptiness in their faces. The pain inside their plastered-on smiles. The dreariness. The desolation. The despair in everyone's eyes. Can't you see what you're doing? Taking away everyone's individuality?”

“Creating harmony by getting rid of the social ills that prevent it. That's what I'm doing.”

Twilight raised her voice; flung a hoof in the air. “At the cost of what makes us who we are? The essence of our very beings?”

Starlight raised her own voice to match. “And why not? What makes your individuality so important that it should come before harmony?”

“What's the point of harmony when it comes at the cost of our happiness and our freedom to express ourselves?”

“But it doesn't come at the cost of happiness. Everyone's happier when they're not bickering over petty differences.”

“But when they can't express themselves?”

“All communities impose social norms on its members. There is no truly free expression; that would be anarchy. The difference between what you do in Equestria and what I do in Our Town is only a difference of degree.”

“Are you listening to yourself!?” She looked to the Wanderer. “And you're supporting her in this?”

“I am inclined to agree with her,” he replied. “As we are getting off-topic, that is all I will say on the matter. Now, is this really why you are here, Miss Sparkle?”

“No. What I've seen here in the Wasteland puts her town to shame. I've seen things I didn't even imagine was possible in this day and age. Slavery, murder, racism, sexism, poverty, drugs, and just the sheer disregard for the sanctity of life makes me sick.”

“I see. And what were you planning to do to change it?”

“Show the Wasteland a better way. Show them the righteous path. Show them friendship. Give them hope.”

Starlight stamped a hoof on the ground. “We are showing them a better way!”

“And may I add,” the Wanderer said, “in a practical manner that could plausibly succeed. So, Miss Sparkle, how would you go about it? Would you stand on a soapbox and preach to the uncaring masses? I hope you do not plan on building the foundations of change on nebulous concepts alone. The average Wastelander has far more immediate concerns. If you cannot address those, then you cannot make even the slightest modicum of progress.”

Starlight's eyes began to slip into madness as her tone and body language became increasingly manic. “Yeah. Nobody wants to listen to some bratty know-nothing know-it-all who blathers on and on about absolutely nothing of value or, or substance! Stupid little girl, thinking she's all that just because her surrogate mammy gave her a pair of duck wings. Give me a break! You got sent on a wild goose chase on the opposite side of the Wasteland, and you didn't figure out that you were fed a load of garbage until the fact was spoon-fed to you. You have no chance of making it out here. You are just. Plain. Too. Dumb.”

Twilight stuck her chest out, trying her best to stay on firm grounding. “All I need to make change is the knowledge that good always triumphs over evil, and the ri-”

A vein popped in Starlight's neck as she filled her lungs with air through gritted teeth, winding up for a ferocious shout: “QUIET!” There was a long pause as this one word echoed over the whole mountainside, and shook some clumps of snow off their precipices. “You know what? This self-righteous twerp isn't worth arguing with.” She turned around and huffed down into the cave. “I'm getting the Gem. Make sure she doesn't follow me, okay, Wanderer?”

“I will.” He motioned for Sucker Pop to follow Starlight, which she did, following a simple smile and nod. After a few moments of silence, Twilight and the Wanderer were alone.

“Look,” Twilight said, “she's clearly too far gone, but maybe I can talk some sense into you.”

“I have heard your arguments, and am not convinced. That topic has been expired.”

“Come on. How can you be convinced by someone who is so clearly unhinged?”

“I would not use such a strong word for her more 'eccentric' moods. She is really quite charming the majority of the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I'm sure. Look, maybe it wouldn't help if I preached on a soapbox, but that's not the only solution. You can come with me back to Equestria and help me expose all the terrible things that happen here, or experience friendship for yourself and let the Wasteland see how wonderful it is, or y-”

“Spare me your starry-eyed pipe dreams. One cannot create change without power, and power grows from the tip of a sword. Even if there is a small chance that these plans would work, it would be foolish to favor them over a far more effective course of action.”

“Do you really believe that you'll bring hope to the Wasteland by force?”

“The Wasteland does not require hope. It requires order, security, and unity. That is what we strive for.”

“Well, I can't let you do what you're doing. It's wrong. What can I do to make you realize that?”

“Considering your lack of bargaining power and your lack of compelling arguments, you must show that your ideas are worth consideration by demonstrating your capacity to personally enforce them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He gestured to her. “Tell me what you think it means.”

“You're saying I have to fight you.”

“Yes. To the death.”

“No. I don't want to. I don't want to kill you.”

“I am afraid you have no choice.”

She turned her head away. “It's not right.”

“Look at me, Miss Sparkle.” When she looked back at him with a tear dripping down her face, the Wanderer waited for several seconds, making sure to look squarely into Twilight's eyes. “Party Favor is dead. I killed him.”

Twilight's lip began to quiver; the pupils in her eyes shrunk. “You… you didn't.”

“I did. Without the slightest twinge of guilt or remorse. When I passed the news on to Miss Glimmer, she was just as indifferent about it as I was. But then, one would be hard-pressed to miss such a pathetic wastrel as him.”

“You're a monster…” She paused, then furrowed her brows as her horn emitted a powerful glow. “And sometimes, a hero has no choice but to slay the monster.” A mighty beam zoomed from Twilight's horn. The Wanderer stared the beam down unphased, and at the last moment, he formed a circular shield in front of it whose diameter barely covered that of the beam; a flash of light and heat was formed at collision until the beam was dissolved.

“You are not a hero,” he said, “you are an agent of chaos, and you will be treated like one.”

He charged his own horn, and with a flurry of cutting spells, he tore the ground on which Twilight stood asunder, making her lose her footing. The wings on her back flapped in desperation until she was finally airborne. This was intentional on his part. Forcing her to put effort to both flight and magic would make her perform worse in both, and tire her out more quickly until the time where he would finish her in one swift stroke. This was always the greatest folly of the young and the undisciplined: Although they could fight with unparalleled zeal when motivations were high and energy was plentiful, they always wavered when adversity reared its head, and their brash overexertion took its toll. The problem here was that when this zeal was backed with the sheer, raw power of an alicorn, such a plan was easier said than done.

Twilight soared in loops, always with some earth-shakingly strong beam or missile flurry at the end of each cycle that he would absorb with shields just potent enough to counter them. The Wanderer discharged some weak or moderate beams and missiles of his own as she was making these loops, both to distract her and to probe her defenses for vulnerabilities, but they made harmless sparks fly off Twilight's spherical shield that covered her whole body in all three dimensions. An exhaustive measure, but also an ironclad one. The sparks from both sides had been produced in such quantity for so long that the snow between them began to melt. As powerful as Twilight's attacks were, they were grossly inaccurate, often missing their mark completely.

One of such attacks was a beam that hit straight into the cave and shook it; the Wanderer ripped some stone off the face of the mountain, closing off the entrance so that no more attacks could enter. Twilight's strikes were so strong and executed in such rapid succession that the Wanderer found little room to make strikes of his own, and although this was what he'd expected, he couldn't help but be awestruck at the ferocity of this child.

Following the collapse of the gate, Twilight let out torrents of missiles that bobbed, weaved, and curved in all manner of directions, sometimes colliding with each other and exploding in mid-air. Although defending against this was a hellishly arduous task, the Wanderer had the reflexes and decisiveness to block just enough of them to avoid a direct hit, although many of them grazed his armor, leaving black streaks all throughout. After some long time of this, Twilight made a grand sweep, and let out a hail of missiles on the ground on which the Wanderer stood. Feeling it rumble beneath him, he squeezed out a teleportation spell that landed him on the slanted trail. Keeping focus on Twilight was crucial, but he took a swift glance at the ground that he left, and saw it tumbling down to the bottom of the mountain. There was now no floor to connect the cave to the world outside, and those who entered would need to find another way to exit.

The battle continued, neither side able to make any sort of decisive headway. Twilight had just too much raw power, and the Wanderer was just too well trained. This seemingly pointless exchange went on for far longer than either of them had anticipated. Although Twilight had lasted this long against the Wanderer's far superior skill only through blunt force of will, she showed no sign of relenting. It was as if she was possessed by a ravenous demon.

So it was time to change tactics. Not by fighting fire with fire – he would get tired before she would – but by doing the unexpected. And so he gathered all his will and focus on the peaks around him, and the air filled with deafening bangs and cracks as he tore chunks of stone out of the very mountains, themselves, and used his temperature control to make the space in Twilight's shield as hot as the most brutal of Wasteland summers. With sound-shattering booms, he bombarded her with immense boulders two, five, and ten at a time. All his power, all his focus was put into this one act. His heart was kicking against his sternum. His muscles were hardy steel. His eyes were unblinking, strained, their whites covered in pulsing red veins. Even when the mountains were three-quarters their original size, her shield still held firm. But the assault continued. He gave her not even a sliver of a second to rest or react – even the smallest window of opportunity could let her make this exercise futile. The mountains then were at half-size. Within the clouds of dust and debris, he noticed Twilight's shield start to flicker. Surprise, temperature, shock, and tenacity – only through all these combined and in overwhelming intensity did Twilight finally succumb to fatigue. Her shield disappeared, and a there was a flash of light in the debris just before the Wanderer stopped the bombardment. As he caught his breath, he scanned the air for any sign of a lifeless alicorn body plummeting to the ground.

Such a sign was not found, but there was another flash nearby, on the Mount Athon trail to his side. There, he saw Twilight with a limp wing, snapped and twisted to uselessness, and a searing malice in her eyes. He destroyed the peak of Mount Athon with a slant in Twilight's direction, but she magically grabbed all that debris and flung it down to the depths below, then began gathering every ounce of her will and anger in one final attack.

The Wanderer turned to her and chuckled. “I must congratulate you, Miss Sparkle. You are the only worthy opponent I have had in many years. There are not many who can match a Legionary Fir-”

Twilight cried out in anger. “SHUT! UP!”

A beam erupted from Twilight's horn. It was of such colossal size and power that it warped the aether around it, tearing the very fabric of reality and creating a black void surrounding it which sucked matter of all kinds into its endless chasm of the null. The Wanderer put his most intense focus on a shield contouring his entire body, and galloped in a great push to the beam's source. As enormous as this beam may have been, it was too spread out, so the shield could just barely hold firm. However, as all focus was needed to keep the shield intact, nothing could be done about the intense heat which made his steel plates emit a blinding orange glow. His concern now was not that he would be evaporated by Twilight's beam, but that he would be cooked alive in his own armor. Still, he pressed on. The smoke from his searing flesh blocked his sight and filled his nose with its stench. The crackling from the friction of beam and shield muddled his hearing. Consciousness was fading. His vision grew dim.

But then, he felt the beam stop pushing him back. He'd come within striking distance. Bringing his head down, then jerking it back up in a mighty thrust, he drive his horn through Twilight's neck into the back of her head and lifted her whole body off the ground. The sound of crackling sparks was now the sound of gargled screams and searing flesh, both Twilight's and his own. He threw the now-paralyzed alicorn onto the mountain wall next to him, and from his horn, he unleashed a monstrous pyre that consumed her utterly as she gargled on her own fluids, until she was blackened and charred. Once he could no longer exert himself, he ceased the flames. There was the Princess of Friendship, now a smoldering carcass on the top of Mount Athon. Then, there was the horrific pain jolting throughout his whole body as the rush of battle settled down. His vocal cords were so thoroughly damaged that he couldn't even scream.

They say one's entire life flashes before him in his last moments, but all that flashed before the Wanderer was that one day, forty years ago, when he fled in the face of the Saracen hordes and disgraced himself before his Legion, his Reich, and his god. He had witnessed, with his own eyes, those Legionaries in his own Century disobeying his orders, some fleeing, others throwing themselves carelessly into the fray to go out in a blaze of glory. For over forty years, he had wished he was among the latter. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was just something about watching those he'd worked so hard to keep disciplined and lawful suddenly dissolve into chaos, that made him disillusioned with the Fourteenth Crusade and with the Reich as a whole. He just didn't see anything worth dying for anymore. But here, he was safe in the knowledge that he had, at long last, been redeemed. His act of cowardice in the Crusade would surely be overshadowed by his act of valor on Mount Athon.

Throughout the course of the fight, he'd attained a newfound respect for Princess Twilight Sparkle. Yes, she was naive, and yes, she was young and brash and impulsive, but her strength and determination were deeply admirable. It wasn't everyday that a mare died in battle, especially not one of such delicate age and effete background, and never to a warrior of his esteemed credentials without it being laughably one-sided. One had to wonder if she had Imperial blood coursing through her veins, or if she had been blessed by a true behemoth of a god. Indeed, there would be a special place for her in the Hall. To that, there was no questioning. They would meet each other again in the next world, hopefully on friendlier terms.

Despite the stinging burns which covered his flesh, he felt a splash of relief as the chilly embrace of death took him. He took one last look at the Wasteland below. Its future was uncertain, and the Reich may yet defend itself long enough to suffer the gradual rotting decay that so many empires before it had suffered, so he could only find his end bittersweet. For better or for worse, the Reich was an integral part of his very being, and watching it rot felt like having a part of himself also rot. As he looked back over the mountain, he collapsed onto the ground, and as flakes of snow settled from the sky down onto it, the last bit of his consciousness withered away, and he passed on into the darkness.

Chapter 15

That argument really put Starlight in a foul mood. She could only bear to go in for about a kilometer before she had to sit down and cool off. A soft boulder protruding from the wall invited her to rest on it. As she did, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark depths of the cave. The light peering out from the entrance was just enough to let her see, so she figured if there was ever a time for her to regain her composure without spending energy on illumination spells, now was it. Sucker Pop leaned on a wall next to Starlight on her side, as the whip had taught her not to sit down while carrying things on her back. For somewhere around ten minutes she fumed with heavy breath; it would've been a lot longer were Sucker Pop's sweetly smiling face not there to pacify her.

Once the noises of rapid heartbeat and harsh breathing settled down, she could hear the sounds of booms and crackles from the outside. The matter, it seemed, couldn't be settled peacefully. She thought, maybe she could go back out and help her close friend. After all, she was a competent fighter in her own right, perhaps even more than he gave her credit for. And surely, her sudden intervention would be unexpected. He had been protecting her from the harshness of the Wasteland for all this time. Perhaps it was time for her to return the favor. Yes, it was time.

So, she propped herself up and made a thunderous dash to the outside. However, she could only run for some few brief moments before a large beam from the entrance missed her by less than an inch. The entrance to the cave collapsed soon after, closing her off and leaving her in darkness. This left her heart racing, with each beat seeming to echo throughout the cave, and her eyes darting around the unlit chasm. There was no helping him, it seemed. This was his battle to fight. After calming down once again, she lit the way with her horn and slowly plodded her way down the cave.

A chilling breeze brushed against her face, carrying the smell of copper. No sound was present, save for those of her own hoofsteps and the pitter-patter of water that could sometimes be found dripping down from conical rock formations from the ceiling. Starlight decided it was time to break the silence.

“So, Sucker Pop. Are you worried about your master at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I'm sure he can handle some kid with a crown on her head.”

“I have dweam 'bout awicown. Big. Scawy. Move big day staw wit hown.”

“Oh, no, sweetie. That wasn't Princess Celestia. That was Princess Twilight. Two totally different things.”

“Twiwight Cwestia's big boom-boom. Weaw scawy. She fight huge monstew Tiwek.”

Tirek. She remembered Tirek. When that demonic centaur came stomping on her doorstep, she had to go into hiding, escaping through that hidden tunnel from her house to the mountains, watching the devastation that he wrought on her town. No citizen of Our Town today can trace his membership to the days before Tirek, because once he tried to suck away the town's magic, he found his spoils disappointing, and massacred them all in a fit of rage. She was sure he would've killed her as well if she didn't have that one failsafe. The only reason Our Town could have been rebuilt at the speed it did was the displacement caused by his indiscriminately destructive rampage. And yet, Twilight had stopped him with power rivaling his own. And so, she thought that perhaps that sort of power really should concern her. For all the Wanderer's training and all his genetically engineered pure-blooded master race nonsense, he was up against she who would stand up to a Tartarus demon, and win. A one-sided fight wasn't something she could be so certain of.

Worry started to set in.  He was not only a valuable asset to her in a practical way, but also one that she'd taken a real liking to. After all, he saw eye to eye with her on so many things, and they shared many traits and interests to the point where she didn't feel like she had to be manipulative to get along with him. She tried being manipulative with him when they first met – it didn't work out. Not the way she'd intended, anyway. At the time, she didn't have the slightest clue what she was dealing with, and even at this point, he was still a bit of an enigma. To her surprise, she felt somewhat saddened at the thought of losing him, as she thought her life would be less pleasurable without him.

“Sweetie,” Starlight said, “Just what do you think of the Wasteland? Do you think this place is good, or evil?”

“Mastew teww me tose wowds aw meengwess.”

“What? Good and evil?”

“Yes.”

“Well, did he tell you why?”

“He teww me Equestwians cwing on tose wowds so tey can say 'no' to tings wittout tinking 'bout dem, wittout evew tewwing why.”

“So he says they're just words that we use to dismiss ideas and concepts without considering the reasons for it? Sorry, you're a bit hard to understand.”

“Um, yeah, I tink so. He say teww wike ghosts, scawing us fwom toughts an' ideas wittout bein' matewiaw temsewves.”

“Scaring us from ideas? Ideas like Equalism?”

“Yes.”

Starlight took a bit of time to think about this. She had the concepts of “good” and “evil” hammered into her head from birth, and yet, she never did feel like she had a solid grasp on those concepts, so she was often left wondering whether her actions were good or evil. Could this be why? Could it be because they were so nebulous that they could be made to mean anything, and not through any fault in her own reasoning? Could one call her good, and another call her evil, and they would both be equally correct, or equally incorrect? If anything, this idea lifted a huge weight off her mind. Without these phantasmal boogeymen, these spooks, haunting her every moral and ethical decision, she could be even more confident in her knowledge that it only mattered that something was right, and as long as she was working towards the goal of total equality the world over, she was doing the right thing.

“You know,” Starlight said with a smile, “if he doesn't come back, at least I'll have this to remember him by.”

With renewed purpose, she continued on down the cavern. They didn't have much further to go. One could tell this by noticing how the natural rock formations were gradually supplanted by walls of pure, solid bronze. The breeze, once cool, was now warm, even toasty. And in the distance, she saw the end of the hall, illuminated with a red glow. This was it. The key to her destiny.

“Mommy,” Sucker Pop said, “tis wooks scawy. Can I stay hew an' cwose my eyes a wittew?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Starlight replied, “go ahead.”

She went on to the gem alone. As she inched closer and closer to it, she felt her mouth water, and tingling rush through her bones out to her skin. No matter if she won or lost, she was sure that a place in the history books would be hers. And if she did win… well, she didn't want to dwell too much on the idea, as she'd probably find herself drunk on it. Yet, she made sure not to walk too quickly. She wanted to take her time to drink in this moment. As she approached the end of the hall, she could see the source of that red light. A glowing, oval-shaped gem standing upright atop a bronze pillar, just below eye level with her. Once she got close to it, she took some time to ogle at it. She could see her own reflection in that gem.

Then, at the glow of her horn, she magically lifted the gem up to the ceiling, looking at it as she made a loud declaration: “I, Starlight Glimmer, holder of the Gem of Mount Athon, summon the vast golem armies of Wolfram to deliver me the Wasteland!”

Her shouting echoed down the hallway, but then, nothing. She looked left, and she looked right, but there was nothing different.

She tried again, but louder: “I, Starlight Glimmer, holder of the Gem of Mount Athon, summon the vast golem armies of Wolfram to deliver me the Wasteland!”

Again, the hallway did not reply to her in any discernible way. The vigor within her was fading, and her lips curled into a scowl and her eyes narrowed in irateness.

She tried one last time, with clear bitterness in her voice: “I, STARLIGHT GLIMMER, HOLDER OF THE GEM OF MOUNT ATHON, SUMMON THE VAST GOLEM ARMIES OF WOLFRAM TO DELIVER ME THE WASTELAND!”

This time, the ceiling flashed, and a blinding white light filled the hallway. Starlight heard an eerie cackling from the opposite end of the hallway, and the gem suddenly changed from a shimmering precious stone to a common gray rock. Startled, Starlight dropped the rock, causing it to plummet back down on the pillar and fracture itself on the bottom.

“Well,” echoed the deep voice from the hall, “hello there, little lady. So, found a way to get to my gem, now, have you? No, no, that just won't do.”

Starlight growled. “I came all this way because everyone in the Wasteland said your stupid gem would get me an army from the mountains. What gives?”

“Oh, come on. You believed that old wives' tale? Really? That 'gem' is just a worthless pebble. You're stupid. Gullible and stupid. And since you're such a stupid little filly, I'm gonna have you killed now.”

Charging her horn, she planted her hoofs firmly on the ground, her heart beating at rapid pace, her mind and sights racing to spot whatever it was that needed blasting.

“Relax,” the voice said, “I'm fucking with you.”

She settled down, face still tense from combined anger and anxiety, and still with her wits about her. “What do you want?”

“Aww. Can't you at least let me introduce myself?”

Starlight sneered at the voice. “I know who you are. You're that Tartarus demon who tells his beefed-up goon squads to beat up anyone he doesn't like because he's a petulant child.”

“And you're that spoiled Canterlot brat who came all this way to beat up my beefed-up goon squads to fix her little inferiority complex.” He paused. “Yes, I know all about you, Starlight Glimmer. I've been watching you ever since you decided my realm was a great place to start a cult. You've been at it for, what? Three, four years now? And learning to remove cutie marks all by yourself… just how does a magical prodigy get obsessed with making everyone equal, anyway? One would think you'd have stayed in Canterlot and risen up the ranks to become one of Celestia's vassals, but nope! You abandoned everything you ever knew to build cuck sheds in an arid god damned nowhere. Very strange, but convenient nonetheless. You were just what the doctor ordered.”

“What do you mean? Why didn't you just come to me?”

The voice laughed. “Oh, where's the fun in that? I like keeping the idea of my very existence ambiguous. Did you know that Byzuntonia is primarily atheist? Cracks me up every time I think about it. No, I had my own way of getting you here. Getting your Imperial friend to do it.”

“What? Did you have him marked from birth or something?”

“Hah! What, you expect me to have planned Our Town a hundred years in advance? Ooooo, super-special chosen one, huh? Ha, ha! No. That'd be you, sweetheart." The voice paused. "He wasn't anything special at all. At least, not until the Fourteenth Crusade. All the other deserters were either rounded up and killed by Saddle Arabians, rounded up and killed by their own Legions, killed by the elements, or killed by themselves, but he just kept plodding along. At first, he was just a semi-interesting sideshow, but once you showed up, he was the perfect candidate to help get you over here. He was nearby, so I just had to give him the right incentives to stop by at your place, and let your own selves do the rest.”

“Why do you take this much interest in me, anyway? How am I so important?”

“I needed someone whose mindset was separate from that of the Wasteland, yet had no loyalties or ties to any sovereign state outside of it. Hard to come by, since no-one in their right mind would willingly come here. You were that and so, so much more. Now, why would I want that, you may ask? Simple. I want the Empire dead, and I want something fresh and new to replace it.”

Taken aback, her eyes widened and her mouth went agape. “You… you want the Empire dead? But you are their patron deity. They literally worship you.”

“Yeah. They're also very, very boring.”

She pursed her lips, wondering how that could possibly be a good reason. “…boring?”

“Oh, I knew this would happen. Thanks to that brooding, angsty, no-fun-allowed sad-sack, Planetvoid, the Wasteland thinks I'm an uptight, fun-hating jerk.” He paused. “Well, I can admit to being a jerk, but the other two things are way off the mark.”

“Hmph. Well, how is it boring, exactly?”

“It hasn't done anything interesting for the last three goddamn centuries. It's all just Crusade, political strife, Crusade, wash, rinse, repeat. They haven't made any decent headway in the Crusades, either. Saddle Arabia's alliance with Equestria makes sure of that. Now, you know when the Reich was fun? When Planetvoid was still alive, and Byzuntonia and Ruusonia were the Romulan Empire. I mean, you can't even imagine how much shit the Reich stole from those guys. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.”

“Speaking of the Reich… can you tell me whatever happened to my friend? Is… is he alright?”

“How touching. She wants to know how her little boyfriend's doing. You don't even know his name, do you?”

“Well, can you tell me his name?”

“Can I? Yes. Will I? No. But I will tell you that his little spat with the purple alicorn was quite entertaining.”

She furrowed her brows. “I want to know how he's doing.”

“Hmm… You know what? How about I show you?”

The ground below her flashed blue, and when she snapped her gaze downward, she found herself chest-deep in a thick brown smoke, which filled the air with the stench of fire and brimstone. Looking for any sign of the Wanderer, she darted her eyes all around the hall, but there was nothing visible inside the smoke. It seemed like she'd have to wait until the smoke passed.

The first thing the Wanderer noticed when he woke up was the sweet scent of honey in the lightly clouded blue sky. Around him was a thick forest of pine trees, each one with a hole in its center, where honey oozed from top to bottom. When he brushed the ground with a leg, he felt smooth blades of grass, moistened with dew. Now a bit more acclimated, he brought himself up, and by the lack of weight on his body, he could tell right away that he was wearing no armor. Turning his head around both ways to see the rest of his body, he found that he was wearing a thin white cloak which danced in the breeze.

He looked to the front; saw a dirt trail running down the forest, and a soundly sleeping Princess Twilight in a similar white cloak, under a wooden sign, which read: “Welcome, ye brave souls who have earned your eternal keep.” His mind urged him to move forward, but his eyes kept coming back to Twilight. He couldn't help but want to talk to her; to know more about her. Reluctantly, he dragged himself over to her, until he was close enough to see the movement of her chest with each soft breath. As much as just watching the little filly sleep endeared him, he wanted her awake. Raising a hoof, then setting it on her belly, he made gentle pushes on her to urge her up.

“Wake up, little filly,” he said, “you have a big day ahead of you.”

After some few moments, Twilight outstretched her legs and let out a hearty yawn. She smacked her lips; opened her eyes slightly. When she saw that it was him who had woken her up, she darted up on her hooves and put on a menacing expression.

“YOU! You did this to me!” She pointed her horn at him, straining to cast some magical attack, but her horn did nothing. Yet, she remained unfettered. The Wanderer could only stare in indifference as she charged him and made flimsy hoof-strikes at his bulging chest, which left him unphased as they bounced harmlessly off it. “I hate you,” she shouted, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Eventually, he grabbed her hoof with his own, and gave a concerned look into her anger-filled eyes as he set it down. Their gazes were locked for a while; he let his face give her his “heartfelt” apology.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Twilight began bawling, and wrapped her hooves around him in an embrace. “Wh-… why? Why did it have to come to this?” She paused, choking up. “I'll never get back to my friends now. I don't have anyone here, and I… I don't know what my friends are going to do without me.”

The Wanderer put a hoof on her backside, giving it a gentle rub. “Shh… it will all be okay, child. Death is a natural part of life. Be glad they did not have to witness it.”

“But my friends are never gonna see me again.”

“They have their memories of you. And they will remember you fondly, as a brave filly who fought and died for what she believed in. That is all you can ever ask for, really.”

She, having regained some of her composure, released him from her grip and looked into his eyes. “It didn't have to be this way, mister… what's your name?”

“Just call me 'Wanderer'.”

“Wanderer. It didn't have to be like this. You could have come with me to Equestria and helped me fix everything. Why did we have to fight?”

“Because we were at an impasse, and violence is often the only way to settle disputes. In my world, it is the most common way. I had no desire to hurt you.”

“But… but you killed Party Favor. You lied to me, and you killed him. How am I supposed to believe that your goals are just when your means are so cruel?”

He sighed. “The Wasteland is a cruel place, full of cruel folk. Often, the only way to fight a great evil is with another evil. And besides, you saw what the wastes had done to him. He was ready to go.”

“But you told me you did it without remorse.”

“When you have lived in the Wasteland as long as I have, your heart turns to stone out of necessity.”

Another tear left her eyes. “I'm so sorry, Wanderer. I'm sorry you had to spend your life there. When I escaped the Empire with my friends and asked Celestia about it. You know what she said?”

“Please tell.”

“She told me that although most unsavory folks in Equestria have good in them and are worth redeeming, there are a few who are so wrought with corruption that they have no hope of being saved; that the Wasteland is where those few are banished so that Equestria can remain pure, and that as the Wasteland was filled with the corrupt, it grew to become a corrupting force, itself. The underworld of pony civilization. A symbiosis of wickedness; Equestria's antithesis.”

“And yet, you would seek to salvage the unsalvageable?”

“I feel that it's my moral duty to fight evil wherever it manifests. Even there.”

“Then why were you so reluctant to fight me?”

“Because I sensed good in you, and I still do. Not outwardly, but deep down, hidden beneath all the layers of corruption that the Wasteland laid on you since birth. I thought I could talk that tiny speck of good out of its shell and make you see that what you were doing was wrong.”

“I see. And what gave you such a sense?”

“I just felt it, that's all.”

The Wanderer shook his head. “Now, child. You really aught to know better than to put all your stock on a gut feeling. It does not matter now, I suppose. We both ended up the same way, at the same place.”

Twilight turned her head, looking all around her to scan her surroundings. “What is this place, anyway?”

“This is the Hall of the Fallen. The Häl vom Välisch. A lush, green land of milk and honey. Those who come here are treated to fighting and feasting until the end of time.”

“Hold on. Fighting? What kind of afterlife forces you to fight forever?”

“Did you not enjoy the fight that we had, Miss Sparkle?”

“What? No! How can fighting be something that you enjoy? All you're doing is hurting others and getting hurt yourself. I only fought you because you made me so angry and there was no other way I was going to get to Starlight. Y-… you actually enjoyed that?”

“Any Imperial in his right mind would have. Fighting you was both an honor and a pleasure.”

“Maybe I should've brought Rainbow Dash with me. Something tells me you two would've gotten along pretty well.” She sighed. “Well, does everyone in the Wasteland come here when they die?”

“No. Only those who die in combat come here.” Twilight hung her head down in sorrow. “Those who die in any other way are sent down to the pits of hell, to spend eternity in fiery torment.”

“So nobody there even gets peace in death.” She looked back up to him. “If force is really what's needed to save them, then with Celestia's sanction, I would've fought with every ounce of my being.”

“And I do not doubt that you would have fought well, Miss Sparkle.” He motioned to the trail down the forest. “Come with me. Let us not make the Hall wait any longer.”

As they walked down the hall together, they had a real conversation for the first time ever. They spoke with each other about their different life experiences. Twilight told him about all the adventures she'd had with her five friends. How they'd first met and banded together to defeat the corrupted Princess, Nightmare Moon. How they'd recovered their friendships after they'd been torn asunder by the chaos god, Discord, and turned him to a motionless figure of stone, which he still remains to this day. How they'd overcome suspicion and paranoia to defeat the Changeling Queen, Chrysalis, and sent her back to her hive to lick her wounds and brood for a long time to come. How they'd inspired hope for the Crystal Empire and destroyed Sombra, the tyrant king who had been haunting them for millenia. And finally, how they'd remained strong in the face of despair, to face down and send the nefarious Tirek back to rot in the lowest depths of Tartarus. On a lighter note, she'd also told him about some of the little joys that she'd shared with her friends. The Wanderer found it fascinating, as it was a look into a psychology completely different from what he was used to. It was a genuine novelty for him to hear about altruism that wasn't beaten into a slave with a whip and biting scorn.

Eventually, they exited the edge of the forest, and in front of them laid a glistening bridge of solid emerald, arched over a roaring river of flowing milk and leading to a castle in the clouds fashioned entirely from gold, shining in the bright blue sky like the sun, itself. As both Twilight and the Wanderer marveled at the Hall's glory, the screech of a bird echoed downwards from the sky. Once their eyes snapped in that direction, they witnessed an alicorn black as the voids of space, riding down to them on a golden chariot pulled by the mighty wings of a giant golden eagle; to his sides, two Imperial mares of immense size, clad in winged suits of steel plate and riding chariots of silver, drawn by giant silver eagles. 'That is him,' the Wanderer thought to himself, 'the great Planetvoid, himself, in the flesh. What interest could he possibly have in us?' After the eagles' feet touched the ground, and the chariots ceased movement, the three disembarked from their chariots and came fourth to face Twilight and the Wanderer.

“Sir.” the Wanderer said as he executed an Imperial salute with a professional rigidity.

“At ease, Centurion,” said Planetvoid in his smooth voice that echoed with each syllable, sounding like many voices. “There is no need for that. Such formalities are reserved for the realm of the living.” He looked to Twilight. “And I see that you have brought an alicorn with you. Other than myself, I have not seen an alicorn since my banishment to the Wasteland so very long ago. Twilight Sparkle, I take it?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. Twilight Sparkle. Princess of Friendship, loyal vassal of Princess Celestia.”

“I am not interested in your titles, young one. I am interested in your deeds, and your deeds are, indeed, extraordinary. It is an honor to have you in my Hall.”

“But what is Equestria going to do without me?”

“The same as it did before you,” he replied. “It is time you move on. This is your home now, and I have a place for you here that I believe is worthy of your exceptional character.”

“And what would that be?”

“I would like for you, child, to take a place in the ranks of the Valkyries.”

“Valkyries?” She looked to the Wanderer. “What's a Valkyrie?”

“Let him tell you,” the Wanderer replied.

“A Valkyrie,” Planetvoid said, “is a member of the personal guard of the head of the Hall, that being myself. The Great Lord, Wolfram, resides formless in that highest plane of the immaterium, the Eldritch. The plane between the Mundane and the Eldritch, Tartarus, where this Hall resides; I am the Great Lord's will made manifest in physical form in Tartarus, just as the Pillar of Justice in Wenn is His will made manifest in the realm of the living. The Reich defends the Pillar from earthly threats, just as the Valkyries defend me from demonic threats, since once the Lord's physical manifestation in a realm is destroyed, He no longer has presence in that realm.” He looked to the mares to his sides. “Introduce yourselves to her, please.”

“I am Fluffles,” said the first one, “loyal Valkyrie of the Prophet for one-hundred-fifty-two years. I would be honored to have you in our ranks.”

“And I am Grindstone,” said the second one, “loyal Valkyrie of the Prophet for twenty-seven years. I, too, would be honored to have you in our ranks.”

“Of course,” Planetvoid said, “I would not force you to become a Valkyrie. However, as I have no other spot reserved for you, there is only one other, far more painful alternative, which I would be saddened to see fall upon you. Please choose well.”

Twilight hesitated for a brief moment, then spoke, “Fine. I'll be a Valkyrie.”

“Excellent. You may mount my chariot and follow these two to the barracks, for proper initiation. Do not let that term, 'barracks', fool you, though. It is quite comfortable.” He motioned back to the chariots. “Go on, now. The Centurion and I must speak privately.”

With that, the two Valkyries led Twilight to the golden chariot, and after helping her mount it, they stepped atop their own chariots. At the shout of “Vörtz!” from Grindstone, the eagles of all three chariots ascended up into the sky and flew onwards, facing back from whence they came. After waiting for the chariots to fly out of eyeshot, Planetvoid shot his gaze back to the Wanderer.

“So,” said Planetvoid, “you are he who would burn my Reich to its foundations and build his own atop it.”

“That is correct,” the Wanderer replied.

“Shockingly, The Great Lord, abundant in His fickle wisdom, supports you in your endeavor.”

“Does He, now? Why would that be the case?”

“You may have been given a wrong impression of Him and His demeanor. Suffice it to say, He works in mysterious ways. Now, the Lord, again in His arbitrary wonder, has put a limit on the number of questions you may ask of me. Five, to be exact. You have used up one, so now, you have four left. Once your questions have expired, I will tell you what the Lord has planned for you, so that you may satisfy His will. Ask your second question.”

The Wanderer looked up into the sky, wondering what he wanted to know from the great Planetvoid. One can only imagine what sorts of answers he could provide. What insights. What thoughts. What otherwise unknowable facts. Testing the waters, he asked his second question: “What is the name which I was given at birth?”

“I have been forbidden from telling you your birth-name. Lord only knows why. Ask your third question.”

“Let me know the status of my mother, father, and any wives and children I may have had.”

“Very well. Father: Knapped Flint. Centurion, First Legion. Deceased, died in the Sixth Battle of River Styx Canyon in the Twelfth Crusade, at the age of eighty-nine. Currently resides in the Hall. Mother: Black Eyes. Deceased, died in honor duel at age one-hundred-forty-one. Currently resides in the Hall. First wife: Cotton Ball. Sired two sons. Currently lives in Sorkrunn at age ninety-two. Second wife: Quartz. Sired one daughter and one son. Currently lives in Brustworth at age eighty-six. First son: Bronze Sickle. Legionary, First Cohort, Second Legion. Deceased, died to his peers in Decimation at age forty. Currently burns in eternal hellfire. Second Son: Titanium Boot. Legionary, First Cohort, Third Legion. Deceased, died in the Battle of Hutten Hill in the Fourteenth Crusade at age thirty-seven. Currently resides in the Hall. Third son: Copper Hammer. Deceased, died in Initiation at age twenty-two. Currently resides in the Hall. Daughter: Shattered Bones. Currently lives in Brustworth at age forty-one. Ask your fourth question.”

“What are your thoughts on the latest Crusades?”

“Many believe them to be exercises in futility. This may be true, but only because of the sorry state of Imperial leadership. They have become decadent, preferring to go through the motions of leadership rather than actively engage in it, to the point where the Kaisers as of recent more closely resemble the degenerate Byzuntonian Prime Ministers than any proper Imperial autocrat. This decadence is represented well by that swine, Shattered Dreams, who lays claim to the staggering achievement of being too obese to fit in a suit of armor without falling deathly short of breath. They have failed to learn a crucial lesson of our history that goes back to the days of the First Reich: That stagnation leads to apathy, apathy leads to degeneration, and degeneration leads to ruin. Just as the First Reich did more than four-thousand years ago, the Second Reich rots from the inside out from the hubris of its leadership, which believes itself to be invincible for as long as it can contain itself within its own incestuous bubble and simply assume the form of leadership without adopting or even understanding its content. The Crusades of current only exist for the sake of having Crusades, because the Imperial leadership understands the nature of the Crusade on only the most superficial level. They know that war revitalizes the nation, but they do not know how or why, or even the point of such a revitalization in the first place. The Reich's failures against the Saracens is symptomatic of its loss of purpose. Were that to be fixed, all other major issues would follow. Ask your fifth question.”

Again, the Wanderer looked up to the sky. This last one needed to count. He listened to the breeze brushing against his ears, looking for answers within it. After some time, the wind gave him one. “What do you think will be the end of history?”

“To put it simply, total obliteration. But I assume you mean the end of history, as in the stage in the evolution of society at which there is no further evolution possible. However, this leads to stagnation, which, as I stated before, leads to ruin. Therefore, there can be no such end to history. I know you sought to destroy chaos and establish an eternal order, but the struggle against chaos is forever. The day the Third Reich falls to the assumption that its order is invulnerable and everlasting is the day it repeats the mistakes of the two which preceded it. In order to keep chaos at bay, one must remain ever vigilant, suppressing it as hard and as often as possible. Chaos is eternal and unrelenting, so those who would oppose it must also be such. You believe that enforcing a universal sameness on the world at large will achieve the end of history, but although that is a way of achieving it, it requires a hugely substantial amount of discipline and resources to sustain itself. If you seek to end history in this fashion, then you must commit to being its gatekeeper forever and for all time.”

The Wanderer hesitated. “But that would require eternal life. Unless I had that, I would have had no choice but to destroy every last shred of life on the planet.”

“I was getting to that.” He cleared his throat. “You have redeemed yourself in the eyes of the Great Lord. However, you have no place in the Hall for the time being. The time has come for you to return to the realm of the living, and finish what you started. Ten full Legions of centaurs, made from the stuff of the very mountains, themselves, will be yours to aid you in carrying out the Lord's will. Additionally, both you and your companion will be granted the Gift of Ascension. You will be alicorns, with new physical forms, immeasurable magical power, and complete immunity from aging and disease. For example, your friend will be able to remove marks within the radius of an entire city, and should she channel that magic through the Pillar, she will remove every mark in the Wasteland simultaneously. Your own power will also be quite formidable, but other than that, you are on your own. The Gift is a highly exclusive and prestigious honor. Do not waste it.”

“Of course.”

“And before you go, I must tell you one last thing.” He paused. “As I said before, the Great Lord works in mysterious ways. As He has decided to put the sword to my Reich, one can only guess when he will do the same to yours, or any Reich that may succeed it. Now, the Great Lord's word is law, and it is only right to serve Him whenever possible. However, I would not be shocked if a more unscrupulous Reich were to turn on Him and remove His influence for its own security and interests, and although I would strongly discourage this sort of betrayal, I would be completely understanding of it.”

The Wanderer nodded. “Understood.”

“Excellent. I wish you good luck and happy slaughter, Centurion.”

Taking a deep breath, he bid farewell to Planetvoid with an Imperial salute. After Planetvoid reciprocated the salute with his own, both stallions let their hooves fall back down on the ground, and a bolt of black lightning shot down on the Wanderer from Planetvoid's horn. As the thunder echoed in his ears, he was flung back into the dark purgatory that stood between the Hall and the mundane world.

Starlight watched as the smoke around her dissipated. Immediately below her, a corpse was present. This corpse was clad in that familiar plate armor, complete with the white bolts on the flank, and smell of seared flesh emanating from it. 'So that's it,' she thought to herself, 'he's really dead.' She filled her lungs with the dusty air, then expelled it, trying to expel her sadness in the process. After a moment of silence, she turned back to the voice. “How long is it until the Princess gets here?” she asked.

“There's no need to worry about that,” the voice replied, “he took care of her for you before he went.”

Starlight turned her head back to the corpse. 'That glorious stallion,' she thought. She lifted the visor on the corpse's helmet and put a hoof on the corpse's face, seeing if she could still feel some life from it. Although its eyes were still wide open and its mouth was agape, she felt no life on it. But she wouldn't accept his death just yet. Not while there was still something that could be done about it. Face stern, she turned back to the voice.

“I want him back,” she snapped.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“But aren't you glad he isn't in your way anymore?”

“He wasn't in my way. He was the one who got me here. Give him back. Now.”

The voice chuckled. “You would make demands of a god?”

“I would. Now, give him back.”

“Hah! I like your moxy. Looks like bringing you here really wasn't a mistake. Okay, I'll bring him back. Just make sure you give him a proper welcome.”

A bolt of lightning boomed from the rock Starlight had dropped, onto the corpse. The corpse glowed a yellow aura, and emanated a blinding light as the stench in the air faded away. Starlight closed her eyes and turned her head, but she could still hear the humming of the light. It felt like an hour as she waited for whatever was happening to be finished. Once the humming ceased, she looked back to the body, and saw that its eyes had turned from its usual beige to a brilliant gold. She carried herself a couple meters back as the body fumbled back on its hooves and looked around it until its eyes locked into hers. They stared at each other for a while, until the body urged her forward, with seemingly no hostility in its eyes. It was him. It was really him, brought back to life.

“Wanderer!” Starlight exclaimed with a smile beaming with joy. She ran to him and hugged him, squeezing as tightly as she could. “Oh, Wanderer. I'm so glad you're here.”

The Wanderer took a deep breath, then put a hoof around her. “It is good seeing you too, Starlight.”

She took her hooves off him and backed off slightly to look closer at his eyes. It wasn't just an illusion; he really did have golden eyes now. She took a good look at the rest of his face, which showed much fewer wrinkles and a pure white coat to match his beard. Whatever happened, either in the battle or in his resurrection, it seemed to have removed many years from his face.  Then, she looked back into his eyes. Before her, they shined like the most illustrious Canterlot jewels, leaving her mesmerized. Whether this was from her amazement at watching the dead rise or genuine aesthetic wonder, she did not know, but neither did she care.

“You… your eyes…” she whispered. “They're so shiny…”

He blinked, and was quiet for a second. “You really need to get over your predilection for shiny things.”

“Just… just let me look at them.”

With magic, the Wanderer slammed his visor back down, then raised a hoof up to the side of her face for a backhoofed slap. “Snap out of it,” he said before he smacked Starlight squarely in the face.

Pain jolted from there to her entire head, and she temporarily lost awareness of her surroundings. After a dizzy, star-filled moment, she shook her head violently to make herself lucid again.

Starlight glared up at the Wanderer with an angry grimace. “Hey! That hurt!"

She lit her horn and raised up her own hoof, and after winding up all her strength with muscle augmented by magic, she struck the Wanderer up from the edge of his jaw, filling the air with the ring of vibrating steel. They both were silent until the ringing stopped, and the Wanderer looked back to Starlight.

“Good hit," he said. "Feel better now?”

She puffed. “Yeah. Sorry. I don't know why you had to hit me so hard, though.”

“I apologize. Sometimes, I forget how fragile you Equestrians are. No hard feelings?”

She chuckled. “No hard feelings.”

“I hate to break up this little reunion,” the voice from the hall said, “but there are other matters for us to discuss.”

Starlight brushed a hoof on the ground. “Oh. Right. So, what about that thing we discussed earlier? What's going on with that?”

“Oh, that? Your pile of walking rubble is already outside. Don't worry about it. There's only one more thing for me to do before I send you off…”

Two more bolts of lightning unleashed from the rock that was once the Gem of Mount Athon; one onto Starlight, and another onto the Wanderer. Starlight watched herself sink into a red abyss, as her veins filled with boiling ichor and her skin bubbled with tingling fluid. The maelstrom of swirling liquid aether filled her ears with its pulsing rhythms. The sides of her spine pulled themselves apart in opposite directions; they grew into two new, complex appendages which protruded from her back and stretched outward, trying to touch the sky, yearning to feel the wind brush between their feathers. Then her entire body stretched and pulled in all directions. Her bones and hair grew longer. Her muscles grew larger. Her face contoured to sharper features, and her horn grew taller and at a finer point. She felt her lungs expand wider than ever before, with ice-cold air entering them and leaving her entire physical self trembling with the sheer, raw energy the air injected into it. Drowning in sensations, she lost herself in the moment until the flood eventually passed away, and she found herself back in that bronze hallway, breathing rapid breaths.

Her eyes drew down to the floor, then to the wall, then to her own body. She looked at the majestic pair of wings she was given, and gradually drew her gaze downward. The leather suit she wore had become a white toga made of shining satin, embellished with flowing decorative golden stitching. From around her neck, a purple satin cape outlined with golden thread hugged her back, and a diamond necklace in the shape of the equal mark hung down over her chest on a golden chain. Her hooves were given golden shoes encrusted in purple sapphires, and on her head, a solid gold crown of woven thorny branches was adorned.

She looked up to the Wanderer beside her, who was looking down at her, examining her as she was examining him. He was a great deal bigger and even bulkier than he was before. The glistening plates of his armor were grown to three times their thickness, and they were as purely white as his coat and the wings that now rested on his sides covered by a white metal outer frame. The saber-toothed skull that was once glued on his helm was now fused with it and made from that same white metal, with golden glass covering the eyes, and a plume of roaring fire on the top. A shimmering cape of gold draped down his back, and on his armor's flank was stamped a blazing golden symbol of equality.

“Now,” the voice from the hall boomed, “I have bestowed upon you alicornhood, and marked you for greatness. You have been blessed by the mighty Wolfram with divine power and authority, and in my name, you will use it to butcher all those who stand in my way. Step out of Mount Athon. Let my will be done.” The last word echoed, with no further word coming from down the hall. The two newly ascended alicorns looked to each other for a moment, then nodded, and started their way out. Their journey had only just begun.

A snowy blizzard obscured the view from outside the cave with its flurry of flakes. The deafening booms of thunder had spooked Sucker Pop into making a desperate sprint out of the cave, which had driven themselves into her brain like picks on a soft block of ice. She'd just barely saved herself from falling down the mountain after noticing the absence of a floor connecting the exit to the rest of the trail. However, the whistling of the breeze dulled her fear as she let her damaged mind meld into it. She'd been at peace for a good long time, but suddenly, she heard familiar voices behind her. Once she looked back, she saw two behemoths of ponies, one made of white metal, another covered in satin, both sporting both horns and wings, approaching her. The one that caught most of her attention, however, was the lavender one that looked remarkably similar to Momma Starlight. Then it hit her. These weren't just really big ponies, these were monsters. Vicious, flesh-eating monsters, and one of them ate her mommy! An infantile fury consumed her. This was a crime she simply could not excuse. She brandished her teeth in a grimace, and charged the monsters as she shouted: “YOU ATE MY MOMMY, YOU BIG MEANIES.” However, at the golden glow of the white one's horn, her legs were frozen in place and she was levitated close to them.

The lavender one giggled. “Oh, no, no, no, you silly little filly,” she said in Starlight's voice, “I didn't eat her. I am her.” She looked to the white one. “Isn't that right, Wanderer?”

“It is,” replied the white one in Master's voice, except one octave below his normal bass, before looking back to Sucker Pop. “Do you not recognize your own mother, child?”

“Oh, yeah?” Sucker Pop said, looking to the lavender one. “Wew if you my mommy, den wat town I come fwom?”

She replied, “Ponyville, sweetie.”

That was the reassurance Sucker Pop needed. The anger inside her subsided; that dumb little smile showed back up on her face. The glow on Master's horn faded, and she felt her hooves touch the ground. She exclaimed “Mommy!” and squeezed Starlight with a warm fondness as she showered her face with kisses. Starlight smiled and laughed, then put a hoof around her before urging her to get back down. Sucker Pop looked to the white one; her smile shrunk as she found that the glass over his eyes covered the beige that would've denoted her master. That Momma Starlight was with him suggested that he was likely the right one, but she still felt somewhat uneasy. She had to know for sure.

“Siw, can you take off hewmet pwease?”

He replied, with slight bitterness in his voice, “You are not to make requests of me.”

“B-but siw…”

He strided his way beside her and shoved her down, sending her crashing down on the ground. She tried to get up, but she found her legs magically bound once more, and her head being crushed under his hoof. Her vocal cords felt like they were being torn by her anguished screams.

“You barbarian scum,” he barked. “Do not forget your place, you worthless little whelp. You are a slave – one that I purchased with my own money – and I will have your complete and total obedience. Do you understand?”

Starlight narrowed her eyes and scowled in anger. “Let her go.”

The Wanderer looked to Starlight. “You spoil her. I will let her go when she affirms her servile state.” He looked back to Sucker Pop. “Now, do you understand, child?”

“Yes, yes,” cried Sucker Pop, “I undewstand, I undewstand!” She felt his hold loosen, but she still felt a sharp pain from where he laid his hoof.

“Good,” he said calmly. “Now, apologize to your mother for the grief that you have caused her.”

“I'm sowwy, Stawight. I'm reawwy reawwy sowwy!”

“Very good.” He released his hold and removed the magical bindings from her legs. She continued laying on the ground, panting and waiting for the edge of the throbbing pain in her head to dissipate. “Have you learned your lesson now, child?”

She took a few more breaths. “Y-yes, mastew.”

Starlight looked to Master with a deadpan expression. “Was that really necessary?”

“It was,” he replied.

“Why?”

“When you spare the whip, you spoil the slave.”

“But we're supposed to be abolishing slavery.”

“That does not mean we should not discipline our subordinates.”

“True, but Sucker Pop is cute. She's like a little puppy. I like her. Look, I know corporal punishment is often necessary, but can you please not overdo it with her? Just because the Empire is stuck in the Ice Age doesn't mean you have to be.”

He hesitated. “Ice Age?”

“Pre-Diarch times. Look, it's not important. Just try not to be too nasty to the filly, okay?”

“Hmph. Fine. If it really bothers you that much, then I will try to keep it to a minimum.”

She smirked. “Alright. Let's go now. I wanna see what our army looks like.”

As Sucker Pop's breathing settled down, she listened to her two owners' hoofsteps around her and to the entrance of the cave. She felt the urge to hum a soothing song to herself, but she didn't want Master hurting her anymore, so she just listened and closed her eyes and waited for further instruction. The hoofsteps stopped in short order.

“Wow,” said Starlight, “look at that. So many of them… and in such an orderly formation! But why is it arranged like a checkerboard?”

“You see the ones with the crossbows?” the Wanderer asked.

“Yeah.”

“A lot of it has to do with them. Another lot of it has to do with traversing hilled terrain. It will be apparent when you see them in action.”

“Alright.”

“But you see, this is the wrong formation. This one is for fighting, not for marching.” He took a deep breath in to bellow his orders: “LEGIÖNEN. VÖRMATIÖN VON MARSCURTZ. VÖRTZ VEST. HÄST.”

“Now, do you really need Reichschpeak for that?” Starlight asked as the outside thundered with the sounds of the marching of legions.

“That is how I am used to giving orders. Why? Do you take issue with it?”

“Not terribly so. It's just such an ugly language is all. Really rough on the ears.”

“That is how it was meant to be since its inception.”

“What? You mean you intentionally made your invented code-language ugly? Why?”

“To discourage non-Imperials from wanting to learn it, or to eavesdrop on a conversation where it is being used. There is also an intimidation factor involved.”

“Hm.” There was a moment of silence, until she spoke again: “That charred thing over there. That wouldn't be Twilight Sparkle's corpse, would it?”

“It would.”

She giggled. “You sure do love putting the 'over' in 'overkill', don't you?”

“We have a saying in the Empire: The excessive kill is the virtuous kill. And additionally, I have a plan concerning her corpse, and a small artifact I picked up from Lesbos. The child-princess will be useful to us even from beyond the grave.”

“Oh, do go on...”

“Celestia has strong emotional bonds with her alicorn ascendants, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“If we were to send this corpse to the good Princess with a provoking letter written so that it looked to have come from the Kaiser, we could have ourselves a useful ally on the other side of the River Styx. That last part is important.”

“But you said before that the Equestrian army was all quantity and no quality. They'll be bottlenecked at Brustworth Bridge. And you saw how well that worked out in Lesbos.”

“You forget that the Imperial Legions are a professional and highly skilled shock force. They function best on the offensive, and the Equestrians would be cutting them off from their primary sources of metal ores, in Goldberg, and monetary funds, in Brustworth. If anyone will be bottlenecked, it will be the Empire.”

“And if the Empire manages to drive them back and gain ground south of the bridge…”

“… which is exactly what I intend to let happen…”

“You know, I think I'm starting to get where you're going with this. I like it.”

“I figured you would. Now, all I need is a paper, a pen, and some wax.” He turned his head to Sucker Pop. “Slave!” he barked, “get over here.”

Sucker Pop opened her eyes and bolted up on her hooves. As she galloped to her master, she saw Momma Starlight levitating a charred alicorn body from the outside to inside the cave, and the three aforementioned things from the load on her own back. By the time she was within leg's length of her master, Starlight had already finished gathering the things and gave them to him. She waited as he laid the paper on one of the walls and wrote on it. While he was writing, Sucker Pop looked to Starlight with a frown and sad eyes.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Can you sing to me?”

“Hmm…” she looked to the Wanderer. “Can I sing to her?”

“Wait until I am finished, please. I would do well without distraction.”

While she waited, Starlight stroked her hoof down her short mane and smiled to her. That smile, motherly and soothing as it was, made Sucker Pop forget the pain in her head entirely. She couldn't help but rub her cheek against Starlight's neck, as Starlight's increased size didn't allow her to reach her face. Eventually, the Wanderer finished the letter and levitated it over to Starlight, who stared into its contents with a smirk on her face. Once finished, she looked back up.

“I like it,” she said, “but what's the wax for?”

The Wanderer's horn glowed, and a bag was lifted off Sucker Pop's back and between the two alicorns. The tie which closed the bag shut was undone, and once the bag opened, an Imperial seal was extracted from it and presented to Starlight. After a moment of observing it, Starlight folded the letter, melted the wax onto the center of the folded paper with her magic. With a devious grin on her face, she pushed the seal against the wax, forming the image of the growling wolf which denoted the mark of the Kaiser. Then, again wasting no time, she made the glow on her horn more intense, and made both the letter and the corpse disappear in bright flashes of teal.

A grand, toothy smile stretched across Starlight's face as her eyes grew wide and her body trembled in a manic bliss. She said, “Oh, what a rush! It's happening. It's. Really. Happening! I really, really just wanna throw myself into a crazy fit of laughter. But… it's so cheesy. Oh, what do I do, what do I do?”

The Wanderer gave Starlight's back a hearty rub. “Embrace it, my dear. Moments like this do not happen often in life. Treat yourself to the cathartic release it will give you. Nobody will know except me.”

“Alright. Here goes.” Her nostrils flared as a strong stream of air filled her chest. She unleashed a laugh so lively, so bombastic, so delightfully and self-indulgently insane, that she seemed to have transcended into a higher state of being. Sucker Pop felt a deep joy in her heart, seeing her mother so happy, and she couldn't help but think Master felt the same way. In the biting chill of the air at the top of Mount Athon, it made her warm. After some time, the laughter settled down, and still smiling, Starlight sighed.

The Wanderer nudged Starlight's side. “It felt good, did it not?”

“I loved it!” Starlight replied.

He gave her back a rub. “I knew you would.”

“Sing to me now, mommy?” Sucker Pop asked Starlight.

“Oh, sweetie, of course!” She looked to the Wanderer. “You can make us a platform, right? Then we can stand on it and get down faster.”

“I will.” His horn glowed again, and the cave ruptured as he tore a piece of the mountain out, and moved it in front of the cave entrance. It was a square, twenty meters by twenty meters, and about as flat as one could get out of a giant cone-shaped rock. The three embarked on the platform and stood in the center.

Once they started descending, Starlight looked to Sucker Pop and began to sing softly: “Life is so grand in Our Town. We're always filled with cheer. We never have to look around to know that we're all here.”

The Wanderer said, “I did not know you had such a marvelous singing voice.”

Starlight chuckled to herself. “Thank you,” she replied, then continued: “In Our Town, in Our Town, we don't have to wait, to find out that our destiny is just to emulate.”

Chapter 16

While the legions of centaurs – which, to Starlight's surprise, weren't much bigger than the average stallion – were marching westward beside Starlight while wielding stone kite shields and warhammers, the marks of those few who stayed in Athon left vivid trails of green across the bright blue sky as the spell she cast on the city sent them flying to the faraway Cutie Mark Vault like shooting stars. Starlight looked up at the flying marks with a content smile.

“So, alicornhood, huh?” she asked the Wanderer standing next to her, still looking upwards. “That's not exactly something everyone has the privilege of getting. You know what this means, don't you?”

“Great power, great prestige, eternal life...”

“And eternal youth.” She looked to him. “I was honestly becoming afraid that I'd die without making any discernible mark in the world. And even more afraid that I'd live to get old and wrinkly, with my teeth falling out and my vision getting blurry. But now…” She extended a wing and brought it to her face, so she could look at it with a toothy grin. “… now I can live forever, and be young forever! I'm finally getting what I've always deserved. Such a divine feeling. And you…” She folded her wing back and brought her gaze back to him. “You deserve some credit. I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't come along, and even afterwards, you were such a big help.” She paused. “I get a dress made of silk, a crown made of gold… and soon, an entire empire under my benevolent leadership. I think the Wasteland will be so much happier and better off with the changes I'm going to make. Not like that's saying much, but still.

“My own perfect world of equality. I won't have to make due with those incompetent morons in Our Town anymore.” Immediately, her smile switched to a snarling sneer, and her brows furrowed. “Those idiots never understood what I did for them. I had to distill my philosophy into stupid pea-sized slogans for their stupid pea-sized brains. And if I looked away for one second, they'd have stabbed me in the back for even dumber things, I'm sure of it. Just thinking about it just makes me want to throw every last one of them in a… ugh!” After a moment of fuming with anger, her cheerful expression came back as quick as it went. “I'll have my own palace! I think the one in Byzuntam is worthy of me, but you know, Byzuntam is such an ugly name. What should I rename it?”

“Might I suggest 'Starlightopolis'?” the Wanderer said.

“Ooh, that's good. I deserve to have a capitol city named after me, after all. A grand, glorious capitol city, full of smiling, happy citizens, who all have the same clothes, the same mane styles, the same beliefs, the same speech patterns, the same pictures on their flanks, and who adore me and my equality… or else. And it'll be so much grander than Our Town, too. I'll have my own dedicated secret police force, my own little indoctrination chamber with so much more equipment than that little 'time-out shed' I used to have, my own army – with my dear old friend in charge of it, my own media apparatus… just so many wonderful things to help me spread equality on a massive scale.

“I won't have to hide my cutie mark with spray paint anymore, since now, I can cover it up in beautiful exotic clothing and fancy jewelry. Not that I'm a stranger to fancy clothes, but I've never worn anything this ornate before! And I'm sure I'll find others as understanding as you, who can look past that tiny little detail. I mean, you didn't even care the slightest bit when you found out I'd kept my cutie mark, did you?”

“No. I was not even surprised. Villages like yours are quite common in the Wasteland.”

“And it hasn't been a deterrent in your belief in equality?”

“I would not be so shallow as to let such a negligible discrepancy distract me from the overall merit of the idea. And if you were ever at all abusive to your town's citizens, they probably deserved it.”

“Oh, trust me, they deserved every bit I ever dished out at them and then some. I'm just curious… what was the point where I could convince you, anyway?”

“The point where I realized that the Reich was so depressingly rotten that just about anything else would be better. Little did I know that the alternative actually had some merit, even if it was conceived by a… somewhat eccentric young mare from Equestria.”

She chuckled. “And what do you think of this 'eccentric young mare', anyway?”

“Well.” He paused. “Despite her quirks, she is intelligent, pragmatic, charming, courageous, sharp of wit, and a visionary.” He paused. “Nothing short of miraculous, in my opinion.”

“Aww. That's so sweet. Do you wanna know what I think of you, now?”

“Go ahead.”

“You're the only one I've met who really seems to 'get' me. You don't call me a bad mare just because I do things that the more short-sighted types would call morally questionable. I like you. I just wish you'd tone down the sadism just a bit. It's bad for PR.”

“Is PR really that important?”

“Well, you know, we're taking power away from the Empire by force. I'd prefer it if ponies looked at us as liberators, not conquerors. Nobody's going to sympathize with us if we're as cruel and vindictive as them.”

“And why should we care about their sympathy if we have a monopoly on force?”

She sighed. “Because we want them opening their minds to our philosophy, and we don't want them sharpening their pitchforks. Remember what I told you a while back? About being both loved and feared?”

“I do.”

“Being loved isn't as important as being feared, but at the very least, we don't want them to hate us. Look at your own history, for example. Do you think the Praetorian Guard would've gone out of their way to kill your own Kaisers if they weren't so badly hated?”

“I do not believe so.”

She smirked. “There you go. You can be as cruel to our rivals as you like, and I'll happily join you, but don't let it get in the way of pragmatism, please. We're about equality, not brutality.”

“But how will I keep myself entertained?”

“Well… we'll have parties. We'll have clowns and magicians. We'll have games. We'll have drinks. We'll have holidays. We'll have tasteful art and decoration. And…” She gave his side a playful nudge. “We'll have each other! You're not talking to some gloomy peasant, you know. This mare knows how to have fun. Sure, we'll have a lot of responsibilities, but that doesn't mean we can't live it up once in a while. I'll show you lots of ways to be happy without being a bloodthirsty savage.”

“Hmm… I will give these things a chance.”

“And another thing. I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop thinking of non-Imperials as worthless slave ponies. We're getting rid of slavery, and that means the slaver mentality has to go, too.” She paused. “I don't expect you to do that overnight, of course. That would be silly of me. But at least make the effort to see them as just slightly more than livestock, okay?”

Starlight heard the whistling of the wind as the Wanderer stood quiet for several moments before speaking again. “I will give that a chance too.”

Her smirk grew to a smile beaming with joy, and she rubbed her cheek against the warm plate metal clad on his neck. “Thank you so much. I knew you'd come to your senses eventually.”

He raised a hoof up to the top of her head and ruffled her mane with an earnest rub. “Only for you, Starlight.”

After the Wanderer set his hoof back on the ground, Starlight magically fixed her mane and took a glance back up at the sky. She spotted something in the corner of her eye, buzzing around in the air. She squinted her eyes as she turned to face it and attempt to make out what it was, but as she saw it, it was just a tiny blur of gray and light blue.

The Wanderer followed suit, and after some time of looking, he said, “Hmm… I believe I have seen that one before…” At his horn's glow, that blue and gray blur was surrounded by a golden aura, and was pulled towards them as it kicked and flailed about in the air. Starlight could look at more closely the nearer it got, until it was finally near enough to see in detail. It was a blue pegasus mare, clad in a light plate armor and the open-faced Equestrian helmet with the cheek and nasal guards, and a rainbow plume, to match her tail. By the time she was within speaking distance, she was no longer squirming, but was snarling, with her eyes in a razor-sharp glare. The Wanderer dropped her down on the ground.

After the blue mare bolted up on her hooves, she shouted, “Hey! What was up with that? Wh-… who the hell are you?”

“You are Rainbow Dash, correct?” the Wanderer asked.

“How do you know my name!?”

“I will tell you in due time. Do not be afraid.”

She recoiled at that last word. “What? N-no! I'm not afraid!”

“Of course, child. May I ask how you got that armor?”

“I-it's standard issue.”

“So, you are a soldier then.”

“Mobile Infantry.”

“Interesting. Did you want to be deployed here?”

“Yeah.”

“To… avenge your fallen companion, I take it?”

Her eyes widened as she shuffled her hooves backwards. “W-what? How did you know?”

“You are among friends.”

“We want to avenge her just as much as you do,” Starlight interjected. “As a Princess, she was as near and dear to my heart as she was to yours.”

Rainbow Dash sighed in relief. “Well, you don't look like bad guys, so I guess I can take your word for it. I just find this hard to believe is all.” She gestured to the marching legions to her side. “I mean, there are ranks of living rocks shaped like centaurs, led by two ponies I've never heard of who are alicorns, coming in from the damn mountains… am… am I dreaming? Or… or having a nightmare? You're not gonna hurt me, are you?”

“Trust me, child,” the Wanderer said, “if we wanted to hurt you, then we would have done it already, and you would be in too much pain to be asking questions.” He gestured to Starlight. “This is my close friend and companion, Skylight Shimmer. She is an Equestrian, like you, and wishes to help the good Princess avenge your friend. I command this army on her behalf. Even if there are aspects of our existence that confuse you, you have no reason to doubt our motives.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, if she's an Equestrian, then she should be able to answer a few questions.”

“Ask away.”

“Alright.” She looked to Starlight. “What is Equestria's best-selling book series?”

“Daring Do,” Starlight replied.

“What is Equestria's most famous team of flight acrobats?”

“Wonderbolts.”

“What is Equestria's capitol city?”

“Canterlot.”

“What is the Equestrian holiday that celebrates the country's founding?”

“Hearth's Warming.”

“Hmm…” She looked to the Wanderer. “You wouldn't be an Equestrian too, would you?”

“I am afraid not.”

“Imperial?”

“Correct.”

She scowled and narrowed her eyes. “Imperials killed my friend. I don't know if I can trust one to avenge her.”

His tone getting annoyed, he said, “Is it not enough that I fight on behalf of your cause? Our presence here gives your army an important strategic advantage. I would hope that your army's leadership is not as keen to look a gift slave in the mouth as you are.”

“Yeah, see!? You even use slave-based metaphors, just like the Lou said. Cutting out part of a pony's brain so she can't think for herself, and working her to the bone against her will… it's DISGUSTING! I mean, even Sombra did it with magic and not hacking at their brains with a scalpel!”

“Orbitoclast.”

“WHAT. EVER. How am I supposed to trust you whe-.” A gold aura formed around her body and squeezed her throat so that no air could come in or out. As the Wanderer magically lifted her in the air and choked her, her chest contracted with each desperate and futile gasp for air she made.

After a few quiet seconds, the Wanderer said, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

Starlight, after watching Rainbow Dash choke for about fifteen more seconds with glazed eyes, said, “Let her go.”

“As you wish,” the Wanderer said. The aura around Rainbow dissipated, and she plummeted down to the ground. With deep and frantic breaths, she squirmed and struggled for air. “You see, child. Just because we work for good does not mean we will accept your insolence.”

After a brief fit of coughing, Rainbow fumbled back up on her hooves. “I guess I'll have to trust you, then. I can only imagine the other choices being even worse. As long as the Kaiser gets his dreams shattered and I get to go home, I don't care what happens to this hellhole.”

“That is the proper attitude,” the Wanderer said. “Now, unless you are somehow not aware of the concept of a chain of command, I believe that you will be able to get a letter in the clutches of whoever is leading your forces.”

“Princess Luna.”

“Is that who it is? I would dearly like to meet her.”

“But I'm no mailmare!” she snapped.

“You are, however, in serious danger of getting your limbs removed from your torso if you do not oblige.”

“What he means,” Starlight interjected, “is that we can't really guarantee the safety of you and your fellow soldier boys if we can't talk things over with Princess Luna. Communication is essential to coordination, after all. We only mean the best for you and your friends.”

Rainbow groaned, shaking her head as she looked to the ground. “Alright. I'll deliver your stupid letter.”

“Excellent,” the Wanderer said. “You will not regret this, I assure you.” His horn glowed, and from the load on Sucker Pop's back, he extracted a pen and paper, and some wax, then levitated it in front of him. “Now, where to write this…” He looked around him for a place to set the paper so he could write on it, but couldn't find anything suitable. He looked to Starlight. “Skylight…”

“Oh, go ahead,” Starlight said, “I don't mind.” She felt him lay the paper on her lower back and press his pen on it as he wrote. There wasn't much in the way of decoration there, so it served as a decent enough place for writing. Just as he was finished, Starlight saw a brown pegasus descending from the sky, then touching down in a dust cloud just a few meters from her. It was Comrade Bright, with leather saddlebags on his back. She watched him look to several directions in wonder, then open his mouth to speak.

“So, story of Gem is true.”

“Well, not exactly,” Starlight replied, “but close enough, I guess.” She felt the paper lift off her back, and she took a glance at Rainbow Dash, who was clutching the letter, which was folded and sealed with wax, in her teeth.

“Who is that?” Bright asked Starlight as he watched Rainbow Dash launch herself back into the air with one strong flap of the wings.

“Oh, her?” Starlight said, “she's just an Equestrian scout. Not too important.”

Bright's locked his gaze on Rainbow as she flew her way southwest. “She's beautiful.”

“You fancy the blue pegasus?” the Wanderer asked Bright.

“You know what? I think I do.” He sighed in wonder. “Those powerful wings, that vibrant flowing mane, those wonderful magenta eyes…” He shook his head violently, then looked back to Starlight. “No. No time for the fantasy. Duty is come first. I come bearing message from Elder.” He lifted the flap of the saddlebag with his muzzle and, with his teeth, pulled out a wax-sealed letter. Starlight lit her horn, levitating the letter out of his mouth and a few inches away from her face. She looked at the seal. It was the head of a rat, snarling and bearing razor-sharp teeth. After peeling off the seal, the unfolded the letter and began to read:

To: Starlight Glimmer

From: Elder Big Rat

The Brotherhood appreciates your service in the fight against the Kaiser's tyranny and oppression of the common pony. Your dedication is admirable, and we hope that our alliance will bolster the just and noble cause. I wish to discuss with your party our plan of action, and I will be meeting with you personally for this matter for the sake of security, but there are some token things you must be aware of before we talk face-to-face.

Firstly, I wish to tell you how the Brotherhood may serve you in our war of liberation. As Comrade Bright has already told you, we have an expansive and intricate network of tunnels spanning the Wasteland. Every military force needs a pair of eyes and a pair of ears to gauge the enemy's plans and positions so that the most effective course of action can be decided upon. We are proud Ruusonians, and our culture has always been one of stealth, espionage, and subterfuge. Even the Imperial Secret Service employs a sizable number of Ruusonians, for this reason and a few more obvious ones. To put it bluntly, you need spies, and you need scouts, and the Brotherhood is ideal for providing both these services. We have multiple bases in the wilderness and in every city in the Wasteland, all of them masterfully blending into their surroundings. Our agents are adept at their craft, including the one who has just given you this message.

We have used Comrade Bright to good effect as a courier and gatherer of intelligence. He has served this purpose well enough, so he needs a new one. I am temporarily transferring him into your employ (as he has been forbidden from reading this letter, I have written this decree onto the bottom of the letter so that you may remove it and present it to him should he ever deny it). As you are now, for all intents and purposes, a political entity, you need a diplomat. Comrade Bright is competent in diplomacy, despite his speech impediment, and I suggest you use him for that purpose. Do not be afraid to put him in dangerous situations. The Brotherhood considers him expendable, and he knew the risks involved in this line of work upon volunteering for it. Should he be lost, we will replace him for you free of charge. There are, however, some requirements on your part.

Firstly, you are to swear a pact of non-aggression against the sovereign Principality of Ruusonia. All allies of the Brotherhood swear this oath. All Brotherhood members have it committed to memory, including Comrade Bright. He is to act as a witness and assist you in reciting the oath. Secondly, we ask that you do not abuse the privilege of using our organization as a spy apparatus, either through malevolence or through incompetence. We are free to refuse to work for you further when we no longer feel it is in sovereign Ruusonia's best interest. And lastly, I would ask that you keep Ruusonian casualties to a minimum in battle against the Empire. We do not care about protecting Imperial or Byzuntonian lives, as the Imperial mind is warped beyond repair and the Byzuntonian is the Imperial's servile sycophant, but you are not to kill any more of ours than necessary.

This letter is for your eyes only. You may not reveal its contents to anyone else, no matter how much you trust them personally. You are allowed to reveal the conditions of our service to you, within reason. Please understand how important security is to the cause. Comrade Bright has been instructed not to speak to you until you destroy this letter. Do it. Now.

-

I, Big Rat, Elder of the Brotherhood of the Sun, decree that Comrade Shining Bright be transferred to the employ of the Equestrian, Starlight Glimmer, and will remain in her employ until further notice.

The letter was creased in the space above the decree, which included a stamp of black ink in a space on the bottom, bearing the same image as the letter's seal. With her magic, she tore the decree off the rest of the letter, and after lifting the letter up to the sky, she burned it to atoms with a vast beam that shook the earth. She looked to Comrade Bright with a smug smirk.

“Well, looks like you're mine to boss around now.”

“Yes,” replied Bright, “I am knowing. But you must swear oath first.” He looked to the Wanderer. “Will you be standing next to Starlight, please?”

“Of course,” he replied. He took deliberate steps to a spot directly next to Starlight.

“Yes, now, repeat after me, in unison.” He cleared his throat. “I hereby declare myself an ally of the sovereign state of Ruusonia.”

“I hereby declare myself an ally of the sovereign state of Ruusonia,” they echoed.

“I swear to respect Ruusonia's borders...”

“I swear to respect Ruusonia's borders...”

“Her inhabitants…”

“Her inhabitants…”

“Her language…”

“Her language…”

“Her culture…”

“Her culture…”

“And her right to self-determination.”

“And her right to self-determination.”

“And lastly, I swear to hold myself accountable for any violation of this oath.”

“And lastly, I swear to hold myself accountable for any violation of this oath.”

Comrade Bright nodded, then looked to Starlight. “Well, that is oath. Not terrible grand thing, but still good. I am supposing you are having order for me now?”

“Hmm… you know what? I don't think it'd be a good idea to have you do anything important right now.” She looked to the Wanderer. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“I would like to wait until we have set up a fortified camp on the hill, and conferred with Luna and Rat.”

“Good idea.” She looked back to Bright, then gestured to Sucker Pop, who'd been standing several feet away quietly the whole time. “How about you start keeping the filly entertained?” She paused. “Her name is Sucker Pop. She likes music, candy, and peek-a-boo.”

Bright groaned. “Of course.”

“Oh! One more thing.” She paused. “I know the Elder doesn't think much of mares, so what made him want to pick me and not my friend for this?”

“Well, it was either he trust female, or he trust Imperial. Not ideal choice in his mind, so he figure female is at least less dangerous.”

“Hm. And you don't think less of me for being a mare, do you?”

“To be honest, with all thing you do in life and where you are now, that would be stupid.”

She chuckled. “You're smarter than you look. Now, go say 'hi' to the filly, okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he said before going on his way.

After watching Bright drag himself begrudgingly to that drooling marechild, Starlight leaned into the Wanderer's ear so she could whisper to him. “You weren't actually serious about that oath, were you?”

“No. Were you?”

Her lips curled up into a devious smile. “Not in a million years.”

Chapter 17

“Patty cake, patty cake, baker's mare,” Starlight and Sucker Pop chanted, in unison and with gleeful smiles, seated as they clapped each others' and their own hooves in a rhythm, “Bake me a cake as fast as you care; pat it and shape it and mark it with 'B', and bake it in the oven for baby and me." The centaurs were surprisingly fast in building that fort they'd wanted. It helped that there were plenty of abandoned mud brick buildings in Athon that could be broken down and reconstructed into a basic palisade and keep, the latter of which she resided in with the rest of the party, and found surprisingly cozy, especially near the fireplace. “Patty cake, patty cake, baker's mare. Bake me a cake as fast as you care; roll it up, roll it up; and bake it with a pear! Patty cake, patty cake, baker's mare.”

“I still do not understand you Equestrians' obsession with sweet pastries,” the Wanderer said, still standing over a wooden table and studying the crude topographic map of the Wasteland that they'd snatched from the Athon libraries.

“Oh, if only you had a normal sense of taste,” Starlight replied, “then you'd understand.” She paused. “You've been looking at that thing non-stop for hours. Why don't you take a break? I have some nice board games over here that the filly is a bit too… disadvantaged to play.”

“Miss Luna and Mister Rat are coming any time now. I would like to be prepared.”

“Come on. You know what they say about all work and no play.”

“Hmm…” He looked to Starlight. “Perhaps I can do one game. Which one did you have in mind?”

“Well…” She turned her head to the right, which was stacked with three wooden boxes containing board games. The mayor of Athon happened to have a collection of them in the town hall, which doubled as his home, so naturally, the collection was now theirs. As she stood up, she levitated the stack and walked over to the table, where she laid the boxes next to each other on the table. The boxes creaked as she pried them open. “We have chess, checkers, and chutes and ladders.”

“I have never heard of those games.”

With magic, and a smile on her face, she lifted up the first box's contents. A granite chess board painted in the usual black and white pattern, and chess pieces made of glass, which she set neatly down on the table. “This one's chess. I think you'd like this one. I know I do. Easy to learn, but hard to master.”

Suddenly, she heard a booming female voice laughing from the other side of the cloth curtain which covered the entrance. “Chess?” the voice said. “We, ourselves, are an avid fan of chess. May we play?”

Starlight looked in the voice's direction, where she saw the curtain being pulled aside by a dark blue aura, revealing the grinning face of the Princess of Night, herself, clad in full plate armor as black as death, but a bit shorter than she'd expected.

The Wanderer snapped his gaze to the Princess. “Ah. Princess Luna. I was not informed of your arrival.”

Luna's grin shrunk down to a bitter frown as she took glances at Starlight and the Wanderer. “So the rumors are true. Two new alicorns, with neither the approval of ourselves nor our sister.” She took harsh, deliberate steps into the room, then locked her eyes onto Starlight, examining her from top to bottom with cynical detachment. “You are built like our sister, and dressed even more frivolously. Starlight Glimmer, I take it?”

Starlight nodded with a polite smile. “Yes.” She extended a hoof for a hoofshake. “Starlight Glimmer, at your service.”

Luna, with a sardonic expression, reluctantly accepted her gesture, then looked to the Wanderer to examine him the same way she examined Starlight. She shook her head and sighed. “A male, Imperial alicorn. In armor with about the same color palette as our sister's.” She paused, then groaned. “What is the world coming to?”

“It is a pleasure meeting you too, Princess.”

“You would not be the commander of these forces, would you?”

“I am afraid so, your pleasantness.”

“Great!” She turned herself to the table in a huff. “Just what we needed. A superpowered psycho in charge of an entire army.”

“Better a superpowered psycho than a superpowered social retard.”

Luna charged her horn with a humming blue orb, powerful enough to send vibrating waves through the air and glared at the Wanderer with utter searing hatred. “You want to fight, you slovenly beast? DO YOUR WORST.”

The Wanderer charged his own horn, and stared down at Luna with it pointed to her. “My plan exactly.”

Starlight wedged her way between the Wanderer and Luna, and pushed them away from each other in a frantic haste. “Break it up!” Both their horns ceased their glows. “We're supposed to be allies, and here you two are fighting over petty nonsense like children not one minute after meeting each other.” She looked to the Wanderer first. “Look, I know Princess Luna hasn't made the best first impression, but being snarky with her isn't gonna make things any better. She clearly thinks you're too malicious and untrustworthy to work with, and you're only proving her right by acting this way.” She then turned to Princess Luna. “And you, I know it isn't easy to accept what's in front of you, and I understand why you would make those assumptions about my friend here, but you should at least give him a chance. He's on your side, after all. That has to count for something. Do you think your sister would approve of you being so closed-minded?”

Luna looked away and sighed. “No.”

“Okay then.” She took a fast stride backward. “Now, apologize, please. Both of you.”

The two stared at each other in silence, until Luna spoke first. “We apologize, good sir, for our uncouth behavior.”

“And I as well, Princess,” he said, extending a hoof for a shake.

“Hm. Perhaps you are not as uncivilized as we thought you were,” she said as she returned the gesture. “Let us start over then, shall we?” They broke the hoofshake and set their hooves back down. “We call ourselves Princess Luna. Lord of Night, Goddess of the Moon, second-in-command of the Equestrian Armed Forces. Who might you be?”

“You may simply call me 'Wanderer', your highness.”

“Wanderer?” She looked to Starlight. “Does your companion not have a proper name?”

“No. He doesn't. We've known each other for a really long time now, and we still haven't found it out.” She paused. “I might just give him one at this rate,” she muttered.

“So,” the Wanderer said to Luna, “second-in-command? Would that make your sister first-in-command?”

“Correct.”

“Would you explain why she is absent, then?”

She hesitated. “We are afraid our sister has taken the death of Miss Sparkle rather poorly. She lies in her chamber bed in fetal position, uttering some incomprehensible babble about an absurd alternate universe where Discord is her servant and Princess Cadance is married to Miss Sparkle's older brother. We cannot imagine why. Miss Sparkle should not have been going around chasing windmills because a silly map told her to.”

“I see. Give her our condolences once this war is finished, would you?”

She nodded. “We will. We thank you for your concern. It is most appreciated.” Her horn glowed, and the boxes of board games were lifted off the table, then set down against the brick wall. “So, what do you know of the enemy army, Wanderer?”

“Well, there are six Legions, bolstered by a far greater number of auxiliaries. A Legion is commanded by a Legate, and is ma-”

“We know of your basic command structure. Adopted from the ancient Romulan system, and has been modified relatively little since.”

Starlight looked to Luna. “You remember the ancient Romulans?”

Luna looked back to her. “We do. A brutal society in its own right, but it at least treated its slaves with a modicum of respect and dignity, and was quite advanced in the sciences, arts, and humanities for its day.”

“How did it fall?”

“It was already in a state of instability and turmoil, but Planetvoid's wars of conquest were what locked the Romulan Empire in its tomb.” She sighed. “This place was not so unrelentingly ghastly until Planetvoid showed his face here. An utterly repulsive individual if there ever was one. He destroyed lives by the thousands, he crushed what little joy this place had under an iron hoof, and in a final act of cruelty, he bestowed his conquered lands with unimaginative and downright silly names. Once banished to this place, he conquered it; ruled it as a tyrant for millenia; sealed it in a cultural and technological time capsule. He was finally struck down in battle, not long before my own fall from grace.” She paused. “We had a choice, you know, between the moon and this place. You know why we chose the moon?”

“I dunno. Why?”

“Because deep inside, we did not want to be corrupted further.” She paused. “You understand now, why we were apprehensive about trusting your friend. But now that we see that friendship has touched even him, our faith in this place has been restored. Now, we shall digress no further.” She looked down to the map on the table. “What do you know of the enemy positions, Wanderer?”

“I have not received the scout reports yet. They are due today.”

A raspy and tin Ruusonian voice from the other side of the curtain said, “You'll be getting them right now.” When Starlight looked to the entrance with the rest of them, they saw an elderly gray pegasus with a scraggly white beard push the curtain aside and enter the room in strides, staggered by a limp in one of his back legs. The white rat's head cowl sported beady black glass eyes, whiskers plucked from cats' faces, and buck teeth fashioned from grinded bone. The rest of his body was covered in a flowing gray cloak. Comrade Bright followed closely behind him, in saddlebags.

“Greetings, Elder Big Rat,” the Wanderer said, “we meet again at last.”

“Yeah, greetings to you too, ya jerk.”

As they waited for Rat to limp his way to the table, Starlight walked up close to the Wanderer so she could whisper to him. “That's him?”

“Correct.”

“What's wrong with his leg?”

“Hey lady,” Rat growled, “I'm right here. Maybe try bein' sneaky with a guy who ain't head of a goddamn spy organization.”

'And I thought Luna was bad at introductions,' Starlight thought to herself.

“And about my leg, ain't your business.” After he finally made his way to the table, he lifted a shaky hoof up and let it drop onto a place in the middle of the map. “The Empire has all its forces north of the river here. Weren't expectin' Equestrian intervention. They got all the Ruusoinian auxiliaries, a small chunk of their Byzuntonians, and all their Legions just north of the bridge, near Benn. Most of the Byzontonians are further east, closer to this position, defending outside Byzuntam, eighty k strong.”

Luna looked to Rat. “Do you know of their numbers?”

“Legions number about thirty k. Don't sneeze at that number, missy; one a' theirs is worth ten a' yours, at least. Ferocious, bloodthirsty, disciplined, hard to rout, hits your lines like a hammer on an egg shell. You wanna avoid a close-up fight with 'em if possible.”

“Hmm. And what of ranged weapons?”

“Unless you're packing serious heat, worthless. They got a specific formation for dealing with that. 'Turtle-shield.' Each century bunches itself up real tight and covers itself in rectangular shield spells. Takes way too much firepower to beat in mass, and even when they're not in that specific formation, they're real good at blocking things individually.”

The Wanderer tapped a place on the map with a hoof. “You want to keep your forces fortifying the south side of the bridge, Princess. The best way to fight the Empire is to starve it. Of funds, and of food, both of which are in short supply for them already.”

“And of nearby Brustworth?”

“How many soldiers do you have at your disposal?”

“Four hundred thousand.”

“And how many of them are professional?”

“Only about ten thousand. The rest are conscripts and fresh enlistees.”

“Do not storm it. It is not worth the number in losses. Instead, suffocate it. Split your force, one part depriving Brustworth of inward and outward traffic, and a much larger part defending the bridge crossing.”

Luna looked to the Wanderer. “We see. And what will you be doing?”

He looked back to her. “I will be attacking the defenders head-on and taking Byzuntam by storm. Ours are far superior to Byzuntonian auxiliaries as fas as I can tell, and only outnumbered two to one. Yet another blow to the Imperial coffers.”

Luna, with her lips drawn down on one side, raised an eyebrow. “Storming a city? While outnumbered two to one?” She paused. “We hope you know what you are doing. Unless the number of those escaping pursuit to within the safety of the walls is utterly minuscule, we cannot imagine such an operation resulting in anything but failure.”

“Trust me, Princess. I do not intend to let retreat be so simple for them.”

Luna turned to Big Rat. “And how many auxiliaries are with the Legions?”

“A hundred k Ruusonians, and twenty k Byzuntonians.”

“And how would we deal with keeping our own troops fed and hydrated?”

The Wanderer tapped on the map again. “The river is perfectly safe for drinking. As for food, your own supply train should remain unobstructed, and you can always extort the local farmers for food in a pinch.”

“We fear our soldiers will have moral qualms with taking food from farmers who just want to make ends' meet.”

“Have a thousand years in the moon made you forget, Princess? This is war. Nobody gets out of this with his conscience squeaky-clean.”

“Hm. You are correct. Further incentive for us to secure the safety of supply trains, we suppose. Will that be all, Wanderer?”

“Do you have any further concerns?”

“No. We believe that we will be able to function well enough with the information which we were given. We will make further planning in our own camp.”

“Then I bid you farewell, Princess Luna.”

She nodded. “Very well then. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Wanderer, Starlight Glimmer, Big Rat.”

Everyone watched Luna slip her way past the curtain, and after waiting several moments afterward, the Wanderer looked to Elder Rat. “Now, there are a few more components to this plan for your eyes only, which Miss Glimmer and I have discussed at length and agreed upon wholly, and for how vital they are to success, I would rather not speak them aloud for reasons of security.”

His horn glowed, and from under the table, he pulled a pen and paper, which he set down on the table to write. 'Oh, this is going to be so, so sweet,' Starlight thought to herself. She watched as he wrote, and although his handwriting was far too small and tight to read from several feet away, she knew exactly what was being written on that paper. Once he filled the page with the detailed orders, he gave it some gentle waving in the air. Afterwards, he bent it in half twice, first vertically then horizontally, and slipped it into a pocket in Big Rat's cloak.

“Thanks,” Rat said, “I'll read it when I get back to sanctuary. Anything else?”

“I have one more thing,” Starlight said to Rat. “Do you know who's in charge of the Imperial forces?”

“Not the Kaiser, that's for sure. The Legate, Snakefang Gelder, has been hoof-picked by the Kaiser, himself, to lead the entire operation.”

“Okay. That'll be all, Elder Big Rat.”

Starlight waited for the Elder to limp out of the room, then looked to the Wanderer beside her. “Do you know that guy, by any chance?”

“I do.” He paused. “We were peers, he and I. Both Centurions in the Second Legion's First Cohort. It seems he survived Hutten Hill with his ranks intact, and was not killed in decimation. I am not surprised. He was an extremely competent officer. An extremely savage and boisterous one, too.”

“So, you think he can be goaded into making a brash decision?”

“Back in my day, brash decisions were the only decisions he ever made. At least, he made it look that way. There is also a chance that he has calmed down with age.”

Her eyelids drooped halfway down. “Answer the question. Yes or no.”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I wanted to put Comrade Bright to some good use.”

“Oh, we do have him at our disposal, don't we?” He paused. “I would not expect the Legate to listen to any sort of reason, but I believe that a few others will.”

“Are you saying…”

“What you are guessing is probably accurate, but again, I cannot say it aloud for reasons of security.”

“But why? What's the obsession with writing things down?”

“The Secret Service has agents everywhere. Had I not met Big Rat before, I would not have been so confident in giving him the details of our plan.”

“So, everything you just said aloud… that was all…”

“False information? No. Just information that I am fairly sure the Empire already knows.”

“Oh~. I gotcha. Write up another letter for Bright, okay?”

“Of course.”

As he pulled another paper out from under the table to write on, her gaze drew to Bright. “You're gonna have quite the chat soon. Make sure you do a good job, okay? I would so dearly hate to have anything nasty happen to you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” When the second letter was folded and slipped into Bright's saddlebag, he galloped out of the room, with his steps echoing through the keep.

Starlight looked to the Wanderer again. “So, what are we going to do about the walls? We don't have any siege equipment.”

“Alicornhood has increased our magical potential several fold, remember? The walls are just target practice for us.”

“Oh, right! We do need to start practicing the bigger spells now, don't we?” She spread her wings, elated with how they felt extended in the air, and took a quick glance at each of them. “I'd like to practice with these bad girls as well.”

“It should be just instinct. Giving someone a pair of wings without the skills to use them would be a rather birdbrained thing to do.” He turned to the entrance, then began his walk out. “I look forward to seeing you in flight, Starlight.”

As Starlight retracted her wings and followed suit, she smiled as wide as a canyon and looked to Sucker Pop. “Come here, sweetie. Mommy want you to watch her fly.”

“Yay!” Sucker Pop cheered while getting up to follow Starlight. “Mommy fwy! Mommy fwy!”

Starlight smiled at the pretty orange sun setting on the western horizon. Her nostrils flared as she filled her expansive lungs with the fresh Wasteland air, and spread her wings, letting the breeze tickle her feathers.

“Go on,” the Wanderer said, standing a few meters away, “just do what feels natural.”

“You can do it, mommy!” cheered Sucker Pop next to him.

After a hearty puff, she bolted down the hill and left a trail of clouded dust behind her as she flapped her wings. In short time, she had liftoff at the first attempt. It was an invigorating feeling, flying freely in the air, not having gravity keep her grounded. Despite a few awkward jerks that kept her from getting past a low altitude, she had solid enough control to prevent an unintended crash landing. The Wanderer was right. It really was just instinct, and after she'd been in the air long enough to get used to the feeling, she found herself flying circles around the camp as well as any natural-born pegasus.

“Yay!” Sucker Pop's cheers echoed in the air for Starlight to hear. “Mommy fwy! Mommy fwy! Mommy fwy!”

Starlight was exhilarated and giddy with laughter as, with the wind blowing in her face, she finally climbed so high up that the Wanderer and Sucker Pop looked like ants below her. “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Chapter 18

As the bright morning sun caressed her back in its loving warmth, Starlight looked down from the hill at the massive army of legions that faced the hordes of unarmored sword-wielding auxiliaries in front of them to fight in her name. Rock centaurs with crossbows stood on the rolling sandy hills, scattered in front of rock centaurs with warhammers, which stood in groups of eighty, packed in tight rectangular formations, each six of which were grouped into cohorts. There were ten of these cohorts, with wide spaces separating them. This alternated down the three lines, so that the second line had its three cohorts facing the gaps between the four cohorts of the first line, and the third line doing so for the second line's gaps. This was the usual formation of the legion, which, as Starlight pointed out before, had an uncanny resemblance to a checkerboard. There stood only seven legions, four on the front line, two in the back for reserve, and the single legion armed with crossbows split up by cohort and split evenly among the other legions. The plain white banners with black print symbols of II, III, IV, and so on, which were carried one in each legion, made this easy to tell. Confused by the absence of three legions, she turned to the Wanderer next to him to ask about it.

“So, you know where the last three legions are, right? You didn't lose them or anything?”

He looked back to her. “Do not worry yourself about them. I have conferred with the legates, and they know what to do. Those legions have their own special purpose.”

“Wait, they actually talk and listen like normal troops?”

“Yes. Surprisingly enough, they do.”

“Well, what are you gonna do if things go pear-shaped?”

“That is what reserves are for. Our subordinate commanders know what they are doing, and I have retained a staff that will assist me should my intervention be needed.”

“And what if you need to tell them to do something?”

“A war leader cannot simply talk into a magical box and tell his subordinates to do this or that specific thing, and even if he could, there is only so much a single individual can manage. However, there are protocols that armies have to follow new orders from on high to a certain extent.” He gestured to the legions. “Look to each cohort. To each century. What do you notice about them?”

Starlight locked her gaze onto one of the cohorts in the center. She was somewhat surprised to see that even that relatively small unit had its own administrative staff. Most of the centaurs were just regular gray rocks, but she saw that each century had one slightly bigger brown one that carried a small triangular banner bearing the image of some animal or building, accompanied by four other, smaller brown ones, one with hammer and shield, two with horns, and one with drums. The trumpets, she imagined, were what the cohorts used to issue orders to their hundreds of individuals.

“Oh, I get it!” she said. “You use those horns and banners to order them around on a small scale, and couriers to order them around on a larger scale.”

The Wanderer raised an armored foreleg up and wrapped it around Starlight's midsection. She felt him pull her up to his metal-plated chest in a tight embrace. “How foolish of me to underestimate you. I had not expected you to pick up on that so quickly. I adore that beautiful mind of yours. Clever, clever, clever little dear. You have come such a long way from wondering why towns build walls. I do not know if I can squeeze you hard enough without making you a cripple.”

She giggled. “You know, there is one gesture of affection that's even stronger than a hug.”

“Oh? Would you be referring to the slave's acts of slobbering all over you in the mountain?”

She nodded. “Yes. Those are called kisses.”

“And this gesture is like a higher grade of hug, I take it?”

“It could be that. It could also be something else. It depends on the context.”

“Could I, perchance, try it on you?”

“Sure.”

“And on which part of the face is it customary to execute a… kiss?”

“Just pick a spot.”

Starlight, with a smile, looked into the glass plates that covered his eyes. For a brief moment, he remained silent. As always, the helm covering his face kept her from guessing what was going on in his mind. There was also a chance that he was just kidding with her. Was the idea of affection really so alien to the Empire that these basic, universal gestures were unheard of? It seemed hard to believe. But the time for wondering quickly came to an end. He magically threw his visor open with a clang, and pressed his lips against hers, then withdrew them, putting the visor back on and leaving her with a warm pigment on her face. A quiet moment.

“Did you mean to do that?” she asked.

“Now, why would I do that if I did not mean to?”

“Never mind. It was a silly question.”

“Well, I must give you my thanks in any case. These xenos customs of yours may be strange, but they are never unpleasant.” He released his grip from her, then put his hoof back down. “Look back to the field. What do you see the crossbows doing?”

She looked again at them. They were firing their bolts at their targets, loosely scattered slingers who clutched their slings in their mouths, unleashing round stones at wherever they focused their aim. The centaurs were surprisingly fragile for being made of rock; a direct hit to the head by a stone put a golem out of action as well as it would a regular pony. Places that weren't the head were sturdier, almost as hard as plate armor, but still not entirely invincible. Anything bigger than a minor crack caused purple gas to burst out of the golem through it, draining its energy until it froze in place and fell over. “They're shooting at the slingers,” she said.

“They have been doing this for a while now. Crossbows are better than slings, and ours are better protected, so they are running out of slingers. They will withdraw their slings and charge their swords into clobbering distance soon enough.”

“And the crossbows will soften them up… then run away through the gaps in the checkerboard before they're caught.”

“Correct. And the gaps in the front line will not be a great disadvantage because the middle line can easily fill those gaps. Our crossbows will survive for future skirmishes thanks to the genius of the Imperial method.”

“Interesting.” She took another glance at the opposing army. The skirmishers were, indeed, retreating; the masses with swords were getting ready to swarm the legions. With a numerical two-to-one advantage, the Byzuntonians decided to stretch their line outward on both sides to envelop the legions, yet still keep themselves fairly thick. Yet, the Wanderer didn't seem too concerned about it. She looked to him again. “Looks like they're about to surround them.”

“Yes, that is true. Which is why we have two legions in reserve. Please do not dwell on it. The Imperial method makes the legions tactically flexible.”

“Hmm… I dunno…”

He put a hoof to the back of her head and stroked her mane. “Trust me, Starlight. It is tried and true Imperial protocol. You did not think that we would focus so heavily on quality and not devise strategies against superior quantity, did you?”

“Well, it's just hard for me to wrap my head around.”

The Wanderer set his hoof back down, took a quick glance to the battlefield, then looked to Starlight. “The Brotherhood is kicking up a sandstorm behind the enemy line, just as I told them to. Pegasi have to be good for something, I suppose. Now, we must discuss something different.”

“Hm? Like what?”

“I know you seek the approval of the common Wastelander, and that is important, of course. And I am fully confident that you will have it, with a single exception…”

“That being…”

“The Imperials. The Reichsfolk. They will not be so keen to accept a foreigner in a position of authority over them.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Above all things, an Imperial respects strength. Cunning, intellect, creativity, charm; all these things are well and good, and you have all of these in abundance. But the only way for you to have them overlook your foreign blood is by demonstrating profound strength.”

“What do you expect me to do? Challenge the Legate to a duel?”

“That… is actually not a bad idea.”

Starlight's eyes got wide as she pursed her lips. “Seriously? You expect me to kill the Empire's top general?”

“In single combat, the Legate is no better trained than I am, and Princess Sparkle held her own very admirably against me despite being even less skilled than you. What you lack in skill, you will make up for in sheer power.”

“But she's dead. She killed you, too, but still, I don't like those odds.”

“Of course. Which is why I… am offering to train you.”

“You really think I can match the Legate's skill?”

“No, no. That would take a decade and a half, fully dedicated to a very dangerous training regimen, more brutal than you can ever imagine. Not to say that you could not do it if you put your mind to it, but it is just not practical. However, although I cannot exactly turn you into a First Cohort legionary in a matter of months, I can make you quite proficient in your own right so that you do not repeat so many of the mistakes that the Princess made.”

She sighed. “Can't you kill the Legate?”

“I could, sure. My skill equals his, and my power, like yours, exceeds his. But then, I would not be impressing anyone. You must be the one to earn their respect, just as you have earned mine, since you are the only one who can bring the Wasteland to modernity and progress. If you do not, then you will not have the Legate to fear, but the Praetorian Guard, against which you would stand hardly any chance. You see?” He paused. “I have been your close friend and faithful guardian for a good while now, but even I cannot defend you from everything. And if I tried, it would only make the Praetorians that much more eager to do away with you, and me as well, and this whole thing would have been a folly.” He paused. “So, what do you say?” He turned around so his chest faced her, and he extended a hoof to her. “Will you accept me as your mentor?”

She stared at the hoof, unsure of herself. Risking her life facing an elite legionary was an idea that made her nauseous. Another Equestrian alicorn had already lost hers to another elite legionary. She very well could be number two. But then, the same legionary who had fought that other alicorn was offering his help to her. Not even at any sort of price, but out of companionship and shared goals. She looked back up to his glass-covered eyes. A smile drew across her face, and she pressed her own hoof against his to shake it. “Yeah. I'll do it. Blasting the Legate to bits myself would be more fun than watching you do it, anyway.”

“I am happy to hear that.” He broke the shake, and they both put their hooves down. “But you know, it would be best to simply cripple him, not kill him.”

“Why would you say that?”

“We want him to burn in hellfire, not ascend to the Hall.”

“Hmm… you're right. It would make a bigger impact if the actual death came some other way. What do you think we should do?”

“We should lock him away in a solitary place where he can neither escape nor find sustenance, and let him die that way.”

She chuckled. “Ooh, that sounds good. Let's talk about it later. I wanna get training now.”

“Of course.” He paused. “Remove your regalia, please. Thorny crowns and baggy togas will be a hindrance and a safety hazard for your first few lessons. I will be removing mine, as well.”

“A safety hazard?” She paused. “What kind of lessons are these, anyway?”

“You are at least somewhat proficient in magical combat, at range, but I can only assume you are completely in the dark when it comes to combat up close and personal.”

“Yeah, you're right about that. But why should that matter?”

“In the last days of the First Reich, one sore weakness in the unicorn warrior that the Diarchs exploited was a lack of physical combat ability. You, I am afraid, share that weakness, and the Legate will surely go out of his way to exploit it. First and foremost, you must know the techniques that will let you protect yourself should he decide smashing you with hooves is the best option, and you must develop the physical means to carry them out.”

“So that means…”

“Techniques in blocks, strikes, and grapples.”

“Grapples… like in wrestling?”

“Exactly like in wrestling.”

Starlight felt her top teeth swipe at her lower lip as her gaze drew to the side.

“Starlight… you look as if…”

She looked back to him. “Well, I'm not really certain what I should expect from this.”

“Hm.” He had a quiet moment in thought. “Let us just see where it goes.”

She smirked and nodded. “Alright. I'll leave my stuff in my bedroom, then meet you in the lobby, okay?”

“Of course.”

The two sauntered back into the camp headquarters, and although Starlight remained uneasy, it didn't keep them from casually discussing the training sessions to come. They'd be dedicating a few hours a day to getting Starlight ready to face down the Legate. First comes hoof-to-hoof combat, then beams and missiles, then shields. Perhaps she would find her own specialized ways to fight. The Wanderer could spew fire, after all, so it was a likely case that Starlight would have her own unique spell. What exactly that would be, only time would tell.

As Comrade Bright flapped his wings in midair towards the west, his mouth was filled with the taste of his own blood; the thorny wooden branches that he clasped in his teeth drove their spikes into his mouth's roof and tongue. They were smooth, having been cleansed under a fire after its rough bark was carved off with a knife. 'A symbol of truce,' he reminded himself. 'I'm just glad they cleaned it so I wouldn't get an infection.'

In his mind, he reviewed the plans written down in the letter he'd gotten. This was important; he'd destroyed the letter in a campfire the night before, and it was now time for these plans to be set in motion. There was no room for error. Absolutely none.

He looked down, and spotted the Imperial camp below, from which there was deep, guttural chattering of legionaries going through drills, watching the camp's surroundings from sentry posts, and placing money bets on games involving the torture, ravaging, and mutilation of hapless slaves for their own amusement. It was on a hill, circumscribed by a palisade of brick. It was filled with hide tents obsessively organized into blocks of eight tents by ten, surrounding the Legate's tent, twenty times the normal size. The entrance to the Legate's tent was flanked by two Imperial banners, one on each side, which fluttered in the breeze like cloaks out to dry. He felt the soaking wet blanket of fear weigh him down, with only his sense of duty and love for his country to keep him from turning back now and never following orders from the Brotherhood ever again. After a moment of fighting this fear, a green aura seized him and froze him in place. He could only watch as he was pulled directly down, in front of the Legate's tent, by something he couldn't see no matter which way he turned his eyes. The legionaries below him took only passing glances at him, a few jeering at him, but most seeming completely indifferent.

Once close enough to the camp to see the open beaks on the banners' hawks, he saw, slipping out from the tent's flaps, two stallions in shimmering First Cohort armor, and a stallion clad in a suit of green armor with a purple cape and a purple viper which wrapped itself around his horn, with the viper's head bearing its fangs, ready to strike at its prey. Clad in the green armor was the Legate, himself, Snakefang Gelder. Just a few meters from the ground, the aura left him, and he was sent crashing to the ground on his back, enticing the three stallions to laugh at his expense.

The Legate took eager strides next to him and held Bright down to the ground by his belly with a push that compressed his guts. “So, the heretic's puny little runt has finally shown his scrawny little boy-face. And look how long it took. What a worthless turd you are.” As Snakefang took his hoof off Bright's stomach and swatted the branches out from his mouth with it, Bright felt the short and sharp cadence of his raspy voice tearing through his ears.

Bright took a deep, drawn-out breath, and he shouted, “The Commonwealth is extending its hoof to all legionaries in mercy. If they will be surrendering arms, they will be spare and treat with respect.”

The Legate let out a rippling snort that echoed throughout the camp, then slammed his hoof onto Bright's stomach with such tremendous force that Bright felt his guts try to escape out from his throat. “Degenerates!” the Legate bellowed, “degenerates, all of you. You mistake us for weaklings. We wipe our asses with your pathetic mercy.”

“Commonwealth's only enemy is Kaiser and his loyalist! Turn against your masters an-”

Bright recoiled at the shock of the Legate's second strike at his stomach. “Shut your mouth, barbarian. Speak when you are spoken to.” He snapped his gaze to his bodyguards. “Bind this thing in chains and a blindfold, and mount it on a Tarquiniian Mule. Have a gag ready in case it starts flapping its cock-sucking lips without my permission again.”

The bodyguards said, “Sir!” and saluted the Legate in unison. One bodyguard turned around and walked back into the tent while the other took careful steps in Bright's direction.

The Legate raised a hoof up above Bright's head and looked into his eyes with a soul-crushing purple glare. “Now, one last thing…” The Legate's hoof slammed into the side of Bright's head, knocking him in cold darkness and putting him solely at the Legate's mercy.

As dim unconsciousness faded from Bright's senses, he felt a wedge pressing squarely into the middle of his belly and chest. He opened his eyes, but to no avail; the fuzz of a woolen band was the only thing his eyes could sense. Attempts to slide it off with a hoof were met with the sound of the chains that bound his legs in place, and no matter how hard he pulled, there was no release to be found, and little give to be felt. Trying to jerk his body off the wedge or spread his wings only revealed that his wings were bound to his torso by a leather strap, and his torso was bound to the wedge by two more leather straps, one around his withers and one around his lower back.

“So,” he heard the Legate say from behind, “it looks like your uncle woke up from its nap. Would you like to see it?”

Bright heard, in response to the Legate, the muffled screams of a young filly, probably no older than five.

A rippling snort, then the snapping of bone followed by the filly's anguished squeals. “That is not the correct response, you useless creature. Either you answer correctly, or your vocal cords will be crushed under my hoof so that I do not have to suffer any more of your shrill bleating. Now, would you like to see your uncle?” After a long moment of nothing but the filly's sobs, the Legate spoke again. “That is better.” A pause. “Bind the little one to a Mule and have it face the male one. I want those two things to look into each others' eyes before we get started.”

The sound of the filly's sniffling cries, accompanied by the rattling of chains, dragged on around him, then in front. As he listened to those cries that only got louder when the filly was being mounted on the Mule, he started to recognize it. His niece, his young niece whom he hadn't seen in two years, Skippy Sparkles. But what was she doing here? In the Legate's camp? Oh… oh no. The Secret Service was more pervasive than he thought it was. The Legate knew he was coming, the Legate knew who he was, and the Legate knew who his family was. This… was bad.

A few moments after the chains stopped rattling, the filly spoke to him. “B-… B-b… Bright? Uncle Bright? Is that you?”

He took a breath. A shallow breath was all the Mule gave him space to take. “Y-yes. Is me. You are Skippy?”

Bright felt the band be pulled up from off his eyes, and in the dim light afforded by the open entrance to this underground cavern, he saw Skippy, the pink pegasus filly with the frizzy purple mane and purple eyes, one of which was blackened around it by a bruise, and both of which were soaked in tears. She, like him, was strapped to a large wooden wedge, supported by table-like legs which were bolted to the ground, pointed upwards and driving into her belly and chest. By all four of her legs, she was bound by chains that looped from hooks bolted to the ground, to a crank designed to pull her further down into the wedge when it was turned. When his gaze shot down to his own legs, he froze in horror at the realization that his legs were chained in the very same fashion, to the very same crank.

“Uncle Bright?” said Skippy. “Can you tell me what's going on? I'm scared.”

Bright looked around him. The room was a shallow dug-out cavern supported by narrow wooden beams. He looked left, and as he slowly shifted his gaze to the right, he saw the room's contents. First was the crank, then four rusty cages in the left corner, each containing a large, muscle-bound earth pony stallion whose eyes were dreary windows to souls that died long ago.  These cages faced a table, and on this table laid a key, and some bronze pear-shaped implement with a crank in the back. Directly behind Skippy was one First Cohort legionary, who stood in perfect stillness, watching over him with an ice-cold stare behind his gray steel helm. Finally, to the right was Legate Snakefang Gelder, observing him with the same icy stare.

“Uncle Bright?”

Bright looked back to the filly. “Skippy! No dwelling on this horrible thing please?”

More tears flowed from Skippy's eyes. “But I'm scared.”

“I am knowing. But we distract from scare.” He paused. “Flying. How goes flying? You learn to fly yet?”

“Um… n-no. Not yet.”

“But you are of close, right?”

“Yeah. Daddy says I'm real close to flying.”

The Legate, at his horn's green glow, let out a sinister chuckle. “Let us fix that, shall we?”

Bright snapped his gaze back to Skippy in a panic, and as both her wings were engulfed in green aura, they were yanked out from their sockets, and the earsplitting snap of the joints' ligaments was followed by Skippy's horror-stricken screams. Bright's stomach tried to vomit, mortified at the sight of his niece's dreams snatched away from her in a very literal way, replaced by torrents of blood gushing from the arteries torn open. “N-no… no… no…”

“Oh, come now,” said the Legate as he walked next to Skippy and turned to Bright, “I saved the slaver guilds a bit of work by doing that. All they have to do now is lobotomize it.”

Bright shuddered at that word, 'lobotomize'. “Y-y-… you wouldn't.”

“I have done it countless times before, and I will do it again. Unless, of course, you give me the information that I require.”

His breathing, wanting to be heavy but restricted by straps, became short and stunted. “You are wanting to know who I work for?”

The Legate's horn glowed again, and the mechanisms in the crank clanged as the handle was rotated with magic. Skippy wailed as both their Mules bit deeper into their torsos. Bright felt his breathing get even more shallow. “I know who you work for, you idiot. The Secret Service tells me your Brotherhood can't stop blabbering about it. Some degenerate traitor, and his Equestrian whore!” A loud and long snort. “A CROSS FOR BOTH OF THEM!” A louder snort. “No. I want you to tell me what that blight on the world, Princess Luna, is doing in the Wasteland with a host of close to half a million of her sister's craven cowards.”

“How am I to know? I was tell you Commonwealth wants truce. Temporary ceasefire, to fight Equestrian.”

“They what? They think we need their help? Hah! Have you not seen what is going on south of the bridge?”

“Um… n-no.”

The Legate's horn glowed, and the crank was tightened a bit more. “Moron! Simpleton! What sort of pathetic excuse for a scout are you, anyway?” He paused. “The degenerates are dropping like flies. Waddling around at their posts, their camps, minding their own pathetic business, dropping dead out of the blue. Daily death by the thousands, straight from the Eldritch. God has cursed them. We will mobilize the Legions, crush the Equestrians as easily as we would crush an overripe berry, and laugh as Luna scurries back to her fluffy sugar-land like a frightened rabbit. Then we will mobilize everything eastward and turn the rock-legions to rubble. And then, we will have the traitor and his harpie nailed to a cross. That, I swear directly to God.” He paused. “No. I do not care the slightest bit for peace with the heretic. Even the mere suggestion is an insult to the Empire, and to my Legions. I have no doubts about our ability to drive them back into their nauseating honey-bowl, but I am left wondering why they came here in the first place. So… why are they here?”

“Uh… I… I don't know.” He really didn't.

“You don't… know.” His horn glowed. Bright's gaze was drawn to the pear-shaped object, being magically lifted off the table, and reeled in until it was less than a foot away from the Legate. “Do you know what this thing is, barbarian?”

He stared at the object. It had a luster dulled by dirt. Tapered to a point at the tip, rounding out in four equal segments by lines running down from the tip to the bottom, where there a twisting mechanism was attached. Not comprehending the use for such a device, he stayed silent.

“I expected too much,” the Legate said. “Another question. This… Skippy… its hymen is intact, is it not?”

The question wrung Bright's stomach like a wet towel. What a sick question to ask. What a sick question to conceive. He remained speechless.

“Well, if it is…” The Legate moved the pear under Skippy's tail and stared intently in that area. Bright looked over to her. She was shaking, and her eyes were squeezed shut. A moment of silence, then her body jerked forward, and she let out a scream that pierced Bright's eardrums like iron shanks. “It isn't anymore! Hah!” Skippy's torture continued, and the ever-louder screams obstructed the squeaking of the pear's twisting mechanism almost completely. “Now. Tell me why the Equestrians are here, or I will rend her other orifice in a similar manner, with the same tool.”

“Uh… er… Lesbos! Lesbos!”

“Hm… something to do with Lesbos? The mayor… HE. WAS. MY. FATHER.” He ripped a powerful snort, and shook his head violently, snarling like a possessed jaguar. “THAT TRAITOROUS SHIT KILLED MY FATHER. HE. WILL. PAY.” After a second of fuming, he raised a hoof up to strike at Skippy's chest, and then struck it, filling the room with the snaps of her shattered ribs. Skippy let out her last scream, and gasped frantically for air before falling unconscious from the sheer physical trauma of the ordeal. “You shit. Tell me why that horde of cowards has shown its ugly face here.”

“L-… Lesbos. Think… think Empire… did it.”

The Legate's eyes turned to razors, and he spent several moments in an enraged trance fit of demonic snarling before he returned from it. “So, you mean to tell me that those idiots think MY FATHER was killed ON THE ORDERS OF MY NEPHEW.”

“Y-… y-yes.”

“You are a liar.” The Legate magically turned the crank again, and the as the chains pulled Bright and Skippy deeper into the Mules, Bright felt the bottom of his sternum drive itself upwards, trying to touch his spine, and his lungs squeezed between his ribs and his back. “You do not actually care for your niece, do you? If you actually cared about her, then you would have told me the truth by now.”

“W-… wro-”

“Shut up.” The Legate stood there still, mumbling to himself and darting his eyes in several directions, then looked back to Bright. “Upon investigating the ruins of Lesbos, the Secret Service discovered that my father's heirloom was stolen. Agents infiltrating the Brotherhood report rumors that the heirloom is a powerful magical artifact, but if this is true, and if the heretic was acting of his own accord, he would have used it by now.”

Bright only had enough room in his lungs at this point to utter one noise per breath. “He… tic… wo… fff… eh… kss….”

The Legate snorted. “So. The heretic prostitutes himself to Equestria. For coin, most likely. Made an alicorn – two thirds god, one third mortal – and he is still a servant to the schilling. They are too cowardly to attack us head-on, so they sent you here to give us a false peace so they can hit us while off guard. Split our forces at the bridge. Overwhelm us with their faceless mass of subnormals.” He paused. “My Legion. The Second Legion. They will guard the bridge crossing to the north under my personal leadership, using some of your lot as their meat shields until the other five finish off the Equestrians in the south with the rest of the fodder. Then we come back for the heretic.” A moment of silence. “I got what I wanted from you, but you are not finished here.”

“H-… h-… huh?”

“Well, I cannot just release you. I have just given you crucial information. A foolish impulse to be sure, but I will ensure that you are too traumatized to iterate it intelligibly.”

“Bu… wh… nn… kill…”

“Kill you? I do not get many opportunities to torture a mentally intact subject free of any slave conditioning. You have already proven a more entertaining subject than most.” He paused. “And you know, I will probably not sell your niece to slavery. As physically broken as she is, she would fetch a very tiny sum, if I could even find a willing buyer. I think I will just give her away for free. Now, no more words from you.” The Legate turned to his aide. “Legionary. Release the studs. Two of them. I want a cock in both of these little shits.”

The legionary turned to face the cages, magically lifted the key and brought it to them.

Bright's heart jolted; the immediate threat of being raped struck him like lightning. He shut his eyes pulled and bucked and jerked with the little power he had left, but the attempt was vain.

The Legate scoffed at him. “Oh, come on. We both know you want it. All you barbarian colts are fruits, after all, even if you don't admit it. I mean, just look at how girlish you all are. Scrawny muscles, femme voices, soft jaws… it is a shock that you manage to stay populated.”

Bright opened his eyes, just in time to see a stud positioning itself over the unconscious Skippy. And afterwards, he felt another stud position itself over him, and the tip of the stud's phallus press underneath his tail.

“Oh,” the Legate said, “and of course, with the loss of your stallionhood comes the loss of your balls. They do not call me 'Gelder' for nothing, you know.” The Legate's horn glowed, and Bright's mind let out the cloud-tearing scream that his body could not as his testicles and scrotum were yanked out from his nether regions in a single pull, and a river of blood streamed from the severed arteries, trickling down the Mule and making puddles on the ground. The Legate chuckled to himself as he dangled Bright's own balls in front of his face. “Another pair to add to my collection.” He turned to the legionary. “Double-time it to the mess and get me a jar with the clear liquid preservative. I do not want this specimen to go to waste.”

The Legionary saluted him with a “Sir!” and made a dash to the room's exit.

The Legate cackled, glancing at the studs on both Bright's and Skippy's ends as he readjusted and removed the pear from unconscious Skippy. He shouted the command, “Vörtz,” and Bright was split open and bloody from behind with a mighty thrust, sending a jolt of nerve-shattering pain throughout his whole body. His organs already packed tightly by the Mule, the stud's phallus pumping deeper and deeper into him compacted them like they were a baker's dough. And as the Legate watched the studs tear asunder the innards of both their victims, he continued to cackle.

The images that Sucker Pop drew in the sand brought a grin to her face as she hummed a gleeful song. Images of round candies molded on sticks and brown squares wrapped in paper – all figments of an old life mostly forgotten, like a distant dream – lit dimly by the pink sun that sunk into the western horizon. The carnage taking place down the hill served only as white noise that soothed her as she occupied herself with replicating these figments. She didn't quite get what was going on, so she assumed ponies were playing a fun game down there. It was mostly Master and Momma Starlight who concerned themselves with such matters. Complicated matters that she could never hope to understand, and wouldn't want to anyway. As far as slaves' lives went, hers was full of warmth and love. All she needed was Momma Starlight's soft and soothing tenderness to be the happiest mare in the Wasteland.

She heard the creak of the keep door. When she darted her head in that direction, she saw Starlight emerge from it with a swagger relaxed and confident, and a smile that shined brighter than the crown on her head and the eyes that were closed halfway.

“Hi, mommy!” Sucker Pop said.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“You have fun wit mastew?”

She chuckled. “Oh, I had a lot of fun. A little rough, but all things considered, not bad.”

“What you do, mommy?”

She put a hoof to her chin. “Well… he pinned me down a lot. I also got slammed pretty hard lots of times, so… things got loud in there.” She sighed. “It was a long and hard session that worked me to exhaustion. It was nice.” She turned her head and looked behind her. “Isn't that right, Wanderer?”

“It is,” he said from behind the wall near to the door as he walked up next to Starlight with his fiery plume reflecting an orange glow on his helm. “And I must say, she shows quite a bit of talent. She can move strong and fast even when pinned down, and you would be surprised at how well she can take a beating. She proves a tenacious and lively wrestling partner.” He looked to Starlight. “Would you mind if this became something we did regularly?”

“Well, I do need a way to stay active. I don't think I would.”

“You gonna kiw de weggate, mommy?” Sucker Pop asked Starlight.

“Weggate… oh! You mean the Legate.”

“I think she will do just fine,” the Wanderer interjected. “She has performed beyond my expectations so far. The Legate will be in for quite the surprise when the time comes. I am sure of it.” He paused. “I hope that our ground troops have performed just as well.”

He charged his horn, then disappeared in a golden flash, only to reappear on a place several yards away, looking down at the battle down the hill. Sucker Pop looked to Starlight, watching as her horn glowed soon after. In a sudden burst of light, they both materialized next to the Wanderer, facing the same position. What they saw was the strategic conclusion of the Battle of Byzuntam: a mass of leather-clad conscripts, squeezed too tightly together to swing the swords clenched in their mouths without cleaving the soldiers next to them. They were trapped in a circle of stone centaurs, attempting to push themselves out in vain as they watched their comrades in front of them fall, one by one, some with their brains oozing out of skulls shattered like glass crystal balls, and others writhing on the piss and blood soaked ground, making anguished attempts to escape by crawling with any limb whose bone wasn't smashed to shards, their lives fading away before them as they bled within their own skins. The battle was over. The slaughter had begun. As Sucker Pop looked on at the field, the wails of the dying and the suffering from below pierced through her impaired sense of empathy and sunk her heart down like an anchor in the sea.

Starlight put a hoof to her lip, failing to hold back a chuckle. “This is beautiful. They were going to surround us, but now look at 'em. Completely trapped. Like a rabbit in a snare.” She looked to the Wanderer. “Those three spare legions. You got them around the back somehow, didn't you?”

“I did.”

“May I ask how?”

“I simply had them traverse the Brotherhood's tunnels and organize themselves inside the sandstorm I had the Brotherhood kick up before hitting them in the backs. A strategy inspired by the great hero of ancient times, Hannibal the Cannibal.”

“'The Cannibal'? Why did they call him that?”

“Because he was a cannibal.”

Starlight's smile faded, and both her eyebrows shot upwards. “What? Really?”

“Yes, really. One of the first Imperials to ever eat meat, and the very first to eat meat from the same species. Notorious for feasting on the dead of his foes after a battle's conclusion. Even Changelings. Especially Changelings.”

Starlight cringed in discomfort. “You're not all cannibals, right? It's taboo, at least?”

“It is far from taboo, but it is not widespread. Whether or not you engage in cannibalism in the Empire is a personal matter.”

“Well… you're not a cannibal, are you?”

“No.” He paused. “I never liked the taste that much.”

“Yeah, that's reassuring.” She stuck her tongue out and gagged. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Actually, I was thinking we would do some target practice.”

“More training?”

“No, not training. Just helping the legions polish off the rabble.”

“You don't wanna relish the moment?”

“This was just the warm-up.”

She deadpanned. “You can't be serious.”

“Their defeat was their own fault, really. They should not have set their lines up so deeply; a competently led force would not have been so easily outmaneuvered. They think like fodder, so they act accordingly. To call this a feat of genius would be a haughty overstatement.”

“Well, what do you think we lost here?”

“I would estimate somewhere between ten and twenty-five percent of our number. That is roughly what Hannibal lost in his battle, after all. There is no way to know for sure until we take stock.”

She smirked. “Okay, then. Let's blast 'em while they're bunched up now.”

Sucker Pop raised a hoof and tapped Momma Starlight on the side. “Mommy?”

Starlight looked to her. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Should I feew sowwy fow de Bizzanies?”

“No, I don't think you should.” Starlight looked to the Wanderer. “Can you explain to her why she shouldn't?”

“Of course.” The Wanderer turned around and took heavy steps beside Sucker Pop, then looked into her one working eye. “You should never feel sorry for them. Never, ever.”

“Why not?”

“Bizzanies bad. Mean. They steal. They sell things to ponies that make them sick. They kill fillies like you for fun and coin. And they have always been incredibly rude to your dear mother. Good fillies like you should want them dead. You are a good filly, are you not?”

“I'm a good fiwwy! I'm a good fiwwy!”

“I know you are.” He touched a hoof on her cheek and began gently stroking it. “Which is why watching them die should make you happy.”

“But it makes me feew sad.”

“That is because your brain cut made your head sick.” He put his hoof down. “Look at your mother. She is happy to watch them die. Do you want to be like your mother?”

She turned her head to face to Starlight, who was smiling at her. After they looked at each other for a moment, Starlight winked at Sucker Pop. Now with her adoptive mother's approval giving her conviction, Sucker Pop looked back to the Wanderer to answer. “Yes.”

“Then watch her and I make them go boom, and smile, even if you feel like frowning. If you smile at their pain long enough, it will start making you happy. Is that understood, dear?”

“Yes.”

He lifted his hoof and gave her head a rub. “That's a good girl.”

“Alright,” Starlight said, “I think we've waited long enough. I wanna get blasting now.”

“By all means. After you.”

Starlight charged her horn with a blinding greenish-blue glow that pulsed with veins of lightning, then unleashed a missile the size of a lion into the teeming mass of doomed levies. As she watched it slam into the ground and obliterate dozens of them in an explosion that left only a crater in its wake, she smiled a toothy grin. Starlight and the Wanderer took turns blowing holes into the condemned swarm; Sucker Pop, with a forced smile, watched with a mix of awe and sadness. After a while, the pleasure that the booming explosions and the pretty flashes of blue and gold brought her gradually overshadowed the grief she felt listening the symphony of pained screams.

Chapter 19

“Lüs!”

Starlight charged her horn to launch her missiles at the six clay discs that soared in the air thirty meters away, from her right to her left. Six discs, and only six missiles allowed. She had to hit them all. The first disc she aimed for was still climbing to the top of the arc, but her missile hit, and shards of clay scattered in the explosion. The second and third discs were mere inches from each other, and at the top of their arcs, but although she hit the second one, she'd aimed too wide at the third one, so her spell zoomed right in front of it. The fourth was beginning its descent, and her missile barely grazed it, leaving it plummeting down with a chunk missing. The fifth hung in the air far longer than it should have, and the missile she aimed at that one sailed below it, but almost hit the sixth one. She shot one last time, and she managed to hit the sixth one before it could begin its descent. Four out of six hits.

“Not bad,” the Wanderer said, “but there is still room for improvement.”

Starlight groaned. “It's not fair. They don't always fly the same way.”

“No target travels exactly the same way every time. I see that you are, at least, leading your targets, as I have shown you.”

“But it doesn't always work!”

“It is not always that simple. You must take into account the direction, temperature, and potency of the wind. The speed and distance of the target. The velocity and material nature of your spell. And of course, the accuracy of your aim. You are smart. You should know this.”

“But how am I supposed to make all those calculations in such a short time?”

“You are not. All this is supposed to be intuitive. I have seen legionaries half as smart as you score a perfect six with targets flying twice as fast, twice as far away. If they can do it, so can you.”

“So, what? I'm supposed to just get a feel for it?”

“Precisely.”

She sighed. “But it's coming so, so slowly.”

“But it is coming.” He paused. “You are a scholar by trade, correct?”

“Yeah. Master's in Alteration.”

“Then you know the value of steady work over time.”

“Well, I've always had talent for scholarly work. I never had to work too hard to achieve things there.”

“I know that you are no warrior by nature. That is why I have volunteered to do most of the warmongering for you. But any lack of raw talent can be made up for with sufficient practice.” He paused, then looked to the side. “Lüs!”

The six discs launched again, and Starlight shot six more missiles to the air, this time hitting all six targets.

“Excellent work, Starlight. See, you are not lacking in talent. What you lack is patience. Perhaps because of your young age, or perhaps because being an intellectual prodigy has left you ill-equipped to approach the development of non-intellectual skills with humility.”

“Yeah, I guess that's true. I've always let others do that stuff for me. Even when I was a filly.”

“Your father was a soldier, correct?”

“He was. Still is. A professional, at least by Equestrian standards.”

“Was he around often?”

“He was in the Canterlot Royal Guard. His captain let him visit me a lot.”

“Captain?”

“Captain Shimmering Shield.”

“Did he do anything special to earn that position?”

“Being Princess Cadence's father.”

“And I thought the Empire was rife with nepotism…”

“The Royal Guard is more ceremonial than anything else. They can afford to be nepotistic. The Special Forces are the guys who actually fight things.”

“Ah. The Equestrian Special Forces. A good enough force, but still vastly inferior to the Legions.”

“Did you ever fight them?”

“I have. I have fought many different kinds of warrior: Griffin, Changeling, Equestrian, and of course, Saracen. There are many stories I could tell you. The book it would take to record them all would, in itself, be a useful weapon if only for its sheer size.”

“I'd love for you to tell me some.”

“And I would love to tell them to you. Later, though. The rocks are about ready to storm the city. I must accompany them.”

“But why? You didn't do it for the field battle, so why now?”

“I am needed to penetrate the city walls. We do not have the time to build battering rams or other such equipment.” He spread his wings, which were protected from the outside by an articulated metal frame that covered the bone-and-muscle parts of them, but left the feathers exposed. “I will see you in the Starlightopolis palace, Starlight.” With a cloud of dust in his wake, he sent himself soaring aloft with one strong motion. She watched him glide in the air, down to the centaur ranks which faced the front of the Byzuntam… or rather, Starlightopolis… gates. She looked at that illustrious white city. Starlightopolis. Gorgeous, wondrous, glorious Starlightopolis, a vast city of glimmering gold and marble, worthy of an entire nation built on her philosophy. The very idea left a sweet taste in her mouth. She looked to the side, to Sucker Pop, who was rolling a leather ball around in a circle with her muzzle. Starlight walked over to Sucker Pop to speak with her.

“Hey sweetie. You in the mood for soccer?”

Sucker Pop looked confused. “Soccew?”

“Oh. Sorry. Kick-ball-in-net.”

A grin drew on Sucker Pop's face. “Yay! Kick-baww-in-net wit mommy!”

Starlight felt the ground shake and heard a boom echo from the city. She took a glance there, and watched with a smile as the Wanderer charged in through the ruined city gates with the rock-legions following at his back. Looking back to Sucker Pop, she lit her horn, and made two pairs of earthen goalposts arise from the very ground, itself, then weaved earthen nets latching behind each pair to catch the ball. However, before she could begin the game, three black figures caught her gaze from up in the sky as they descended down to her. As she looked closer, she saw what they were. Princess Luna, flanked by two of her bodyguards, pegasi clad in black plates and sporting the wings and fangs of bats. Starlight stood at attention, waiting until Luna finally made her landing and spoke with frantic urgency.

“Miss Glimmer! Please help us! We are in grave peril!”

Starlight widened her eyes and tensed the corners of her mouth downwards, feigning shock. “What? Really? Can you tell me what's going on?”

“Pestilence has stricken our ranks. Our soldiers drop dead out of the blue for no apparent reason, and it has crippled their resolve. You are from Equestria, yourself, yes? You know how deathly unaccustomed they are to hardship.”

“Yeah. I know. You can replace them, right?”

“Miss Glimmer, we have no time! The savages prepare for an attack. The grins on their faces as they seek to butcher us… it is a sight nauseating and most frightful. If only ours boasted such confidence.”

“Calm down, Princess. What can we do to help?”

“Attack them. Delay their assault. If they are focused on you, then we can launch a counter-attack and rout them from the field.”

“Hm. I dunno. We don't have a whole lot to spare, ourselves.”

Luna let out an annoyed grunt. “You do not know what you are talking about! We have been leading Equestria's armies since before your grandmother's grandmother was in diapers. Do not think yourself more knowledgeable than us.”

“Look, Princess. I couldn't do what you say even if I wanted to. You're right. I don't know much about army stuff. But my partner does, and he's the one in charge of it.”

“Have you no power over him whatsoever, you stupid little girl!?”

“He likes me and respects me very much. I'm a dear to him. I have plenty of influence over him, but if you want us to do what you say, he's the one you'll have to convince.”

“You are a dear to him? Have you forgotten what he is?”

“He is my friend.”

“HE. IS. EVIL.”

“And how would you know?”

“We know what he did to Lesbos. To depopulate an entire town in a bath of fire and blood is evil of the highest echelon. He is a born, bred, and raised mass-murdering lunatic like all the rest of his kin. With the power of an alicorn, probably thanks to you. Do you think that millenia of weeding out any semblance of compassion in each generation, coupled with the Wasteland's inherent corrupting force, did not create a population of cruel and soulless abominations? Are you really that naive?”

“He's helping me fight the Empire. He's helping us fight the Empire.”

“That does not change what he is.”

“He thinks a lot of me. I can change him.”

“Perhaps he does think highly of you for some bizarre reason, but that does not mean he will hold himself to our moral standards.”

“This argument is pointless.” She paused. “He's in the city. Go talk to him.”

“Will you not accompany us to help convince him?”

“You haven't even convinced me. Not by a mile. All you've done is hurl insults and demands at me. Maybe you should invest in a proper diplomat, or at least a courier with social skills more developed than a five-year-old's.”

“We were in the moon for a thousand years. Our social skills were rotted away by isolation.”

“Then I suggest you get them back. Start by not being so abrasive to ponies who are trying to help you. He's far more willing to respond to your rudeness in kind than I am.”

“You impudent child!” She looked to the ground, breathing heavily with anger, then looked back up to Starlight. “Fine. We will speak with him. Our guards will keep an eye on you. If you do anything to hurt them, then you may consider our alliance null and void.” She paused. “And we warn you, Starlight Glimmer, from one demigod to another. Do not overestimate your allies' patience. You may find yourself with their knives in your back.”

With that, she launched herself in the air and flapped her wings, flying in the direction of the city, which now had the districts furthest from the palace engulfed in flames within the city walls. These were the poorest districts, built from termite-bitten wooden shacks and cheap mud huts. Starlight felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight of the ugliest parts of her capitol being obliterated, so that she could have better buildings built on top of it them for the pitiful saps who lived in those districts to move into. She wanted her Starlightopolis to be the neat, pretty, happy city that she imagined it would be. The city she felt that she deserved.

As Starlight witnessed the cleaning up of her city, she heard one of Luna's guards singing a song, her voice almost too quiet for its words to be intelligible. “Crusader, Crusader, please take me with you. The battle lies far to the north.”

Starlight looked quizzically to the guard. “What's that you're singing?”

The guard jolted at attention. “Oh! Um. Ahem. Sorry, I'm not really accustomed to being spoken to informally while I'm on duty.” She let on a sheepish smile.

“It's okay. Really. Nobody here's gonna chastise you for having a bit of chit-chat.”

The second guard spoke, “Don't mind her nervousness too much. It's not so much her being on duty as much as it is her being a huge nerd.”

“That's fine. Can you two tell me your names, please?”

The second guard dipped her head down, then grabbed her helmet with a hoof and let it slide off as she put her head back up. “My name is Midnight Glider.”

“And I'm Ebony Darkness.”

“Well,” Starlight said, “it is nice talking to you two. So, about that song…”

Ebony slid her helmet off her head and grinned. “Oh. It happens to be an Imperial war song. Or love song. I can never really tell which is which.”

“How do you know this?”

“I do a lot of reading on it. I just find Imperial culture and history fascinating. Princess Luna keeps a lot of books on the Empire in her personal library, and frankly, I can't get enough of them. I know Luna thinks they're all evil and stuff, but I think they're more morally gray than she lets on.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well, just look at their early history. After Planetvoid was exiled to the Wasteland, he had a bunch of kids, right? Hundreds of years, dozens of generations of colts and fillies. And you know what happens? They get into a war with the Romulans, the Saddle Arabians, and the Changelings. At the same time. And we wonder why the Empire is so unsentimental.”

“What's your point?”

“The entire Empire is basically just Planetvoid's extended family, right? They're all his children. Can't you see? They were never evil. It was all just a weary and jaded father protecting his family with tough love. They hate anyone who's not them because everyone else threatened their wives and children. They love and protect their own.”

“Are you the only one who thinks this?”

“Not at all! Equestria has a whole fandom dedicated to the Empire. I'm one of its leading figures, of course. The fandom started in Luna's personal library, and I'm one of its co-founders.”

Starlight chuckled. “The fandom. Ha ha ha. So, how big is the fandom, anyway?”

“Several thousand strong, and growing fast! This war has sort of slowed down growth a bit, but once peacetime comes, I think the pace will pick up again.”

“Oh, the war. What does the fandom think of the war, anyway?”

“We're divided on it. There's one group that thinks what the Empire did to Twilight was terrible and wants Equestria to beat the Empire so we can reform them and teach them friendship. There's a second group that doesn't think the Empire did it at all and that it was a false flag, probably the Changelings but there are some less popular suspects. And there's a third group – and I happen to be in this one – that thinks that the Empire did what they did to Twilight because she did something really terrible to provoke them, and we shouldn't have been so quick to declare war on them without any sort of dialogue first.”

“Hm. And what do you think Twilight did, anyway?”

“It's really unfortunate. Twilight was always a bit of a moral crusader. I think she just approached the values dissonance way too harshly and paid the ultimate price for it. It's really sad, but I don't think more ponies should have to die in a war over it.”

“Yeah, it is sad. So, what do you think of the Empire, anyway?”

“What do I think about it? Oh, where do I start? There's just so much to talk about.”

“How about the Imperial army?”

“The Legions? They're just so professional. So orderly. So brutally efficient. And have you read the sagas? All those epic poems about legionaries charging into armies outnumbering them five to one, and coming out unscathed? And don't get me started on the legionaries, themselves.”

“Please. By all means. Get started on them.”

Midnight rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy. Starlight, you've just opened up a big can of worms.”

Ebony got giddy with excitement. “I've read all about them in the sagas and the history books. I've even caught glimpses of them in person. In. Person. While escorting Luna to and fro. And, oh Celestia, they're even more dreamy than I imagined. They're big and muscular and handsome. They've got those deep voices with those throaty exotic accents. And their uniforms are so tidy. I love a stallion with a tidy uniform, you know. I'd give up both my wings to meet one face-to face. And even marry one! I'd feel so safe in his hooves as he cuddled me and whispered sweet nothings to me.”

Starlight chuckled. “You know he'd probably consider you a barbarian, right? On the same level as livestock?”

“Oh, I know. But I would prove him wrong! He'd look upon my face, and he'd fall deeply in love – real love – with me instantly, and see me as not as a barbarian, but as his soul mate. He'd take me as his slave, but he wouldn't lobotomize me, as he would be in love with me. Oh, he'd be rough at first. He'd have a reputation to keep, after all. He'd make me clean his quarters and cook his meals. And I'd do it all with a big smile on my face. Then, when I got too filthy, he'd take me to the River Styx and clean me off. This would be a turn-on for him. And at just the right moment, he would swipe me off my hooves with magic, take me to his quarters, and I would eagerly let him deflower me with his big, mea-”

“Ebony!” Midnight shouted. “Too. Much. Info.”

Ebony giggled. “Right. Sorry. Just got carried away for a second.”

“You know,” Starlight said, “I happen to be really good friends with an Imperial legionary.”

“Really?”

“Yes. First Cohort.”

“First Cohort! Oh, I'm just green with envy. What's he like? Does he talk in an old-timey super-formal vernacular? Is he really, really old? Does he have pretty eyes?”

“You can find all that out for yourself, if you want.”

“You… you mean you'll let me meet him?”

“Well, of course! It'd be a crime for me to let such a big fangirl like you leave the Wasteland without meeting one of the objects of her infatuation.”

“But I don't know if Luna would let me…”

“I think I can convince her to give you a bit of leeway.”

“Would… would he want to meet me?”

Starlight lit her horn, and she made a pen and paper appear in front of her out of the aether. “I'll write him a letter for you. Do you mind if I write this on your back?”

“No! Not at all!”

Starlight shuffled her way next to Ebony, and set her paper down on Ebony's armored back to write the letter. She didn't expect he'd appreciate her sending him letters while he was storming a city, so she figured it was best to at least keep the letter brief.

Dear Wanderer,

You're not gonna believe this. Luna arrived here with two bodyguards. And good god, was she rude! Anyway, Luna went over to Starlightopolis to tell you about what's going on south of the bridge, leaving her two guards here. Whether Luna's spoken to you already or not, I don't know. Now, get this: One of her guards is a co-founder of a fan club in Equestria dedicated to the Empire! And she wants to meet you! I can hardly believe it myself, but I guess some ponies will obsess over anything. Her name is Ebony Darkness. She has a bit of a thing for Imperial stallions, so please don't charm her too much. But don't be too cold with her, either. Something tells me that could be even worse. Are you willing to meet her?

Sincerely,

Starlight Glimmer

After she was finished, she raised the pen and paper up with magic, and made them disappear in a flash of light.

Starlight looked down to Ebony. “Well. There you go. Now we just have to wait for his reply.”

The three ponies waited for a few moments. The whistling of the wind filled the void until a flash of golden light appeared in front of Starlight, with a sheet of paper bearing words written in her friend's familiar script.

Dear Starlight,

An Imperial fan club? In Equestria of all places? Are all Equestrians completely off their rockers, or is it just the ones I happen to come across? I honestly do not know what to make of this. I suppose it could not hurt to humor the little filly. In case Her Royal Pleasantness does not allow her the privilege, I will inscribe an autograph below this letter.

Sincerely,

Wanderer

---

To the Reich's number one fan, Ebony Darkness. You crazy little scamp.

Signed by Unnamed, Öwercenturion vom Legion II, Anz von är Gott MMMMXIV.

Starlight had a hearty laugh, then looked back to Ebony. “Well, he's open to it. He even gave you an autograph.”

Ebony gasped. “Really? Lemme see! Lemme see!”

Starlight magically held the letter in front of Ebony, whose mouth stretched into a grin utterly manic. Once Ebony's eyes drew to the bottom of the letter, she let out an excited squee and rubbed her cheek on the paper. “It's perfect! 'Year of our Lord four-thousand-fourteen', the exact current year on the Imperial calendar, in flawless Reichschpeak and Romulan numerals. The tight, neat, small handwriting. He's snide, but still prim and proper, just like I imagined an Imperial would be. And he's a Centurion! An elite Centurion!” She let out an intoxicated sigh. “My life is almost complete. I will treasure this forever.”

“Wait,” Starlight said as she folded the paper and slid it in Ebony's chestplate, “you know Reichschpeak?”

“I know a little bit. Luna's fluent in it. But then, she's fluent in a lot of different languages.”

“But I thought it was forbidden for non-Imperials to learn Reichschpeak.”

“Luna has her sources.”

“Okay, that's fine. Now, that song…”

“What song?”

“The crusader one.”

“Oh~, that one. I know all the lyrics. It's usually sung by Imperial mares to legionaries who are preparing to go out on Crusade.”

“Teach it to me. I want to know it.”

“After what you've done for me? I'd be happy to. You can sing, right?”

Starlight smirked. “Singing happens to be one of my hobbies.”

“Perfect! Let's get started, then. Now, repeat after me.” She cleared her throat. “Crusader, Crusader, please take me with you. The battle lies far to the north. Crusader, Crusader, don't leave me alone. I want to ride out on your quest.”

Luna looked down on the city with the cool air of the afternoon sky brushing her extended wings, watching as embers from burning buildings peppered the rising smoke, with the weeping of wives and the wailing of children echoing through them. Centaurs of stone wrangled the city-dwellers like cattle into crowds, keeping them under close supervision, and shattered the limbs of any who tried to escape before carelessly tossing them back into their assigned spots. 'So,' Luna thought to herself, 'this is war in its purest state. We had forgotten how cruel it could be.'

She flew over the city, watching as carnage wrought the city to ruin, until she reached the palace. The marble stairs were crudely painted with blood and dotted with mangled bits and pieces of guards' corpses, drawing a grizzly trail up to the palace doors, which laid ruined on the floor, one snapped in half with a single dent in the center. Luna descended down to the entrance, and looked inside. There was a gold chandelier which crashed down on the blue marble floor, now covered in broken glass and the blood of nobles. Among the bodies, there was a single survivor, a guard, who writhed on the left of two staircases which stood on opposite ends of the room. He was barely clinging on to life as his body struggled with the puffed, oozing burns that scarred it.

The guard reached out to Luna with a slow and shaky hoof, and called out to her. “Nightmare Moon? Is that you? Are you the god who has answered my prayers?”

Luna walked up the stairs, looking down to the guard and in his eyes. “We no longer go by that handle, stranger. But all the same, we will assist you however we can.”

“I wish only for release, moon-goddess.”

“And that you shall have, stranger. But before you have it, we would like to know of your assailant.”

“A… a warlord of light with blank yellow eyes. Spits fire like a dragon. Wears armor emblazoned with a golden symbol of equality.”

“As we suspected. Tell us his whereabouts. We will deal with him.”

“Went to the Minister's throne room. At the top of the palace. Climb to the top, and you will face him.”

She sighed. “We thank you, stranger. We are sorry that it has come to this.” She charged her horn in its dark-blue aura, and cast a beam on his head, which dissolved into smoke and ash which floated into the air.

With a heavy heart, she climbed the stairs. At the top of the stairway, she stumbled on the headless bodies of two twin fillies, whose mother was ripped in half and tossed carelessly down the stairs, and whose father laid next to them as a charred husk. She took a long breath, then levitated the fillies' bodies to the side so she could continue onwards. Then, looking to her left, she saw into a room through another broken doorway, where there stood bookcases stacked with tomes stained with blood spatters. A couple bookcases were collapsed on the floor, having been used to crush the ponies beneath them. Luna continued on to the other side of the room, where she saw another staircase leading upwards.

A set of hallways greeted her, with screams echoing from the distance. 'He is nearby,' she thought to herself. She bolted through the halls in a gallop, whipping herself in sharp turns as the screams got louder as she got closer to her so-called ally, occasionally leaping over bodies that laid in her path. Her hoofsteps on the marble floor echoed throughout the building, and paintings on the walls blurred past her, some having fallen to the ground with their frames cracked. Once the throne room was just around the corner, she saw a mare run in front of her in a panic before being engulfed in flames spewed from behind her. Luna stood and watched the mare burn as the heat radiating from the fire gave her face an orange glow and intense warmth rubbing her skin. The mare couldn't even scream; to breathe in to scream would be to fill the lungs with fire, and sear their insides, making them fill with their own fluids and causing her an ironic death by drowning if the external burns didn't kill her first. Once the fire subsided, the mare laid there dead, and the sound of a stallion weeping crept from the corner.

Luna peeked her head around the corner, and she saw a middle-aged unicorn stallion – the Prime Minister – dressed in a gray toga, with his face buried in the sky-blue coat of a young unicorn mare as he sat on a silver throne, which was encrusted with diamonds and sapphires, and embossed with images of streaming flowers and leaves. Beside them were sixteen stone centaurs, eight on each side, and the Wanderer staring in Luna's direction with his helm and glass eye-plates spattered in blood.

“Greetings, Princess. I was informed of your presence. You have arrived just in time to witness this heartbreaking moment.” He lit his horn, and the Prime Minister was surrounded by a gold aura as he was lifted up in the air. A bellow escaped the Minister as his chest was ripped open, split down the middle of the sternum with a loud crack and the tearing of cloth, revealing his beating heart and his lungs expanding and contracting at rapid pace. A gold aura surrounded the heart, and it imploded from within all its chambers, sending chunks of soft muscle flying out of the chest and letting blood pour through the opening from various severed veins. The Minister was thrown to the side to bleed out from his chest and die slowly, no longer having the organ that let blood give him life.

Luna emerged from the corner, her teeth gritted and her brows furrowed, her head getting hot with rage as she watched the blue mare sprint out of the room in terror. “You have a sick sense of humor!” she shouted.

“But I do have one, which is more than can be said of you, Princess. Now, please state your business.”

“You… you force us to bear witness to that, then expect us to have civil discussion with you!?”

“That is why you have come here, is it not?” He paused, watching Luna fume with anger. “By all means, Princess, take a breather. I would not force you to speak with me in a foul mood. It is hard enough to speak civilly with you in the best of circumstances.”

“Take a breather? Preposterous. Where is your empathy?”

“In the same place as your manners.”

"You really are dead inside, aren't you?" She waited for a response, but he just stood silent. “We may not be the most charismatic of princesses, but at least we do not slaughter innocents wholesale while dressed in a shroud of goodness and light.”

“Innocents? Hardly. I did that wastrel a favor.”

“A… a FAVOR?”

“For a stallion to weep in the eyes of the public? And to bury his shame in his own daughter's coat? To be cursed with such pitifulness is a fate worse than death.”

She raised her voice, and threw up her hoof. “And what of the denizens of Lesbos? Did they deserve it, too?”

“Lesbos was a cesspool of poverty, corruption, and filth. A pock-mark on the face of the Wasteland. By burning it to the ground, I made the world just a little less unpleasant to look at.”

Luna shuddered as her lips curled into a scowl. “And to think we had allied ourselves with the likes of you.”

“It is Miss Glimmer with whom you had allied yourself, not I.”

“She is the company she keeps.”

“And what is that company, exactly?”

“Cold, heartless, and evil.”

“Evil is nebulous and a matter of opinion.” He paused. “I am beyond this outdated moral duality. The Wasteland cannot afford to waste its energy on such pointless distractions, and I will not allow it to do so.”

“It is a shame that the Wasteland's corruptive forces have clouded your mind to the point where even the difference between good and evil eludes you.”

“There is no corruption here, Princess. Only harsh truths.”

“No corruption? You wear a skull on your head.”

“As if the self-proclaimed goddess of the night has any room to talk.”

“We are not the ones burning this place to ashes with apparent glee.”

“I only burn this place to ashes so that it may rise from those ashes stronger and better than before. One does not need binary morals to see that the destruction of the old order is necessary for the construction of the new one.”

“Hmph. And is Miss Glimmer aware that you are 'beyond morality'?”

“The topic never came up.” A sudden flash of blue light appeared in front of the Wanderer; it left a sheet of paper floating in front of him. He took a glance at it. “Ah. A message from her. How charming.” There was silence as he gazed down at the letter briefly, then looked back to Luna. “She never fails to be delightful.”

“What does that message say?”

He magically rolled the paper and set it down on the seat of the throne. “Nothing you should concern yourself with, your majesty.”

Luna spat on the ground and shot the Wanderer a wrathful glare. “Well, we will inform Miss Glimmer of your revolting amorality, and we will recall to her what we have seen here in excruciating detail.”

“Were you not going to relay your military circumstances to me?”

“We changed our mind.”

He nodded. “Perhaps another time, then.”

“We do not think so.”

“Very well. Hopefully, you will change your mind again.” He paused. “I wish you luck in all your endeavors, Princess.”

She scoffed, and turned her back on him before starting her way out. “Be careful what you wish for, Imperial.”

A deadpan expression stuck to Starlight's face as she, in the middle of the cold night, listened to Luna iterate what she saw and heard in Starlightopolis. Luna, herself, was clearly distressed, but that wasn't what Starlight cared about. What she cared about was the danger of this already tenuous alliance falling apart because her friend liked killing things too much. When Luna finished, Starlight only had a short rebuttal.

“…well, it can't be said that he isn't thorough.”

“Can you not put a cap on his savagery, Miss Glimmer?”

“I already told him to tone it down on the violence. Evidently, he hasn't. Doesn't he know how badly it reflects on me?”

“On you? Do you not care for those to whom he has inflicted dire suffering?”

“Look. I'll have a word with him. That's all I can promise you.”

“We would not recommend actually going into the palace. The sights are vomit-inducing to all but the most hardy stomachs.”

“How about I write him a letter?”

“We suppose letter correspondence should suffice. Do you mind if we stay here and speak with you when you are finished?”

Starlight smirked. “I see you've taken my suggestion to heart.”

Luna drew a long sigh. “Despite your vulgar articulation of it, we do recognize its merit. It is usually our sister who handles such matters. But given her broken state, we now recognize the need to develop these skills for ourselves.”

“I'm glad. Maybe someday, you'll be even more fit to rule than her.”

“Given the circumstances, that day would be a sad one.” She paused. “So, you will write to him?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.” She lit her horn, materialized a pen and paper, and began to write.

Dear Wanderer,

I just spoke with Princess Luna. She's getting better at talking to others. Turns out the only reason she's unpleasant with others is because she forgot how to be polite.

But you don't have that excuse. What did I tell you? Equality, not brutality. I've always hated using these dumb little slogans, but it looks to me like it's needed. In case you can't already tell, I am not happy with you right now. I understand that you need a little cruelty to establish dominance and authority, but ripping the heads off little fillies? Leaving guards crawling on the floor in so much pain and misery that they pray to Nightmare Moon (the dark goddess of eternal night!) to come and mercy kill them? Murdering a stallion in front of his own daughter in a spectacularly gory way just for the sake of making a lame pun? Are you trying to make me look like a villain?

I told you already that I was going to show you ways to be happy that don't involve committing PR suicide. I thought I was a dear to you. Don't you trust me? Explain yourself, please. I really, really hope you had reasons for this other than self-indulgent sadism.

Sincerely,

Starlight Glimmer

After sending the letter back to him, Starlight looked back to Luna. “Should I expect a reply soon?”

“It looked to us like he already had the city firmly in his clutch. Your correspondence should be free and uninterrupted.”

“Alright.”

They waited, and after a bit of waiting, Starlight got the letter. And, oh boy, this one was a doozy. She was grateful that he knew about paragraphs, or else this would be practically unreadable.

Dear Starlight,

I am sorry that you feel that way. What I have done here is standard Imperial protocol, executed in full compliance down to the letter. In fact, it is the most generous protocol for conquest of an urban settlement in the book. I could have enforced mass enslavement. I could have raided it, extracting any commercial good (livestock included) that could be carried on the backs of our troops. I could have had the population decimated. I could have enacted Sülten vom Gront (Salting of the Ground; killing every living being in the vicinity down to the last chicken and goat, reducing every building to dust, and curing the earth with salt so that neither plant not crop may grow from it) – the fate that Planetvoid bestowed on the ancient Romulan capitol of Rom, which you have likely never noticed any trace of for precisely that reason. Any civilian casualties that came about in the occupation of Starlightopolis were either accidental or wholly necessary.

As for my occupation of the palace, it was my intention to strike fear into the hearts of the citizens by making an example of their old ruling body. I will admit that, a few times, I allowed pragmatism to give way to my own desire for entertainment. For that, I take responsibility. However, my actions here were not fully wanton, nor even halfway so. I only gave into temptation when I felt that it would not prove a significant impediment on military operations or political goals. A small portion of the old ruling body – that which proved itself useful and relatively loyal to the new order – has been spared. In fact, upon interrogation, this portion has given light to some very pleasing pieces of information.

The validity of this information has been verified; it has led to some assets that will prove beneficial to our goals.

For the moment, your insistence on gender equality has proven a boon to us. There are plenty of highly capable mares who, seeing the new opportunities that we will provide them, are more than willing to apply their skills and talents in helping the new order. Some of these talents are even worth keeping, in my opinion. There is one in particular that I think you should meet. I believe that this one is worthy of a place in the new order's highest ranks. You will need quality delegation to help you drag the Wasteland into the modern world, and this one can serve as such should you choose to let her.

You said before that you would think of a way to pay for the means with which to industrialize. Such thought is no longer required. Unbeknownst to the Empire, there is a vault below the palace that contains copious amounts of gold, smelted into bars. An emergency fund. Convenient, is it not? I have already ordered that these bars be reforged into a different form. The nature of this form will be kept secret from you until we meet once again in person, but rest assured that nothing unseemly is being done. I believe that you will find joy in this secret once it has been revealed to you.

As I write this letter, your capitol is being cleansed of debris, organic and artificial. I will ensure that everything is neat and tidy upon your arrival. The palace is built with a balcony on the top floor, overlooking the town from the front, for the purpose of hosting the Minister's pathetic public speeches. If you would like to prepare a speech of your own to address your adoring public, now would be the time. Should you choose to make such a speech, I will enforce order and attention on their part, and I will ensure that any heckling by them is met with swift and cruel punishment, made clear to the public eye so that you may speak uninterrupted, and I will ensure that they applaud you at the appropriate moments. Not that I think it is required, but one is better safe than sorry

That is but a taste of what I have begun preparing for you here. It will take some time for me to pacify Starlightopolis and get all its affairs in order. Martial law is currently in effect in the city, and this will be the case until the Wasteland is fully in our control. However, I do hope that once you see it, you will feel better. I would hate for us to be split over such a petty disagreement. That would be counterproductive.

Sincerely,

Wanderer

After reading, Starlight took a breath and thought to herself. 'A public speech? I haven't done one of those since I left Our Town. And this time I won't have an audience of dozens, but of thousands! Putting my oratory skills back to good use will be wonderful. And none of those other things he mentioned sound too shabby, either.' She looked to Luna. “Seems like it's not really his fault. It's the Empire's.”

Luna lit her horn and magically snatched the letter from Starlight, allowing her eyes a quick scan of it. “He is attempting to downplay his atrocities and distract you from them. But we know better.” She glared up at Starlight. “We beseech you to end your partnership with him. He is incompatible with civilized society. The Wasteland's corruption has made him irredeemable, and if it is not stopped, it will corrupt you as well.” She paused. “You and I can destroy him together. We would let you rule this place in vassalage under our sister. She would be happy to help you modernize. Please, do not instill the sort of tyranny that it looks like you are about to instill. If you were told that a ruthless iron hoof was the only way to govern the Wasteland, then you were told wrong.”

'Celestia's vassal?' Starlight thought to herself. 'Hell, no. She wouldn't understand my equality, and I'm not bowing down to anyone.' She magically took the letter back from Luna, and stuffed it in the collar of her toga, then looked to Luna. “Thanks for the offer, Princess, but no. I don't need your sister's help. I know you don't think I'm capable of handling him, but trust me, I am. We've known each other for a long time. Maybe he isn't the nicest guy in the world, but he's never been abusive to me, and he respects my wishes.”

“Do you really believe that what he did was just protocol?”

“I do. He's been very strict with his protocols for as long as I've known him, and frankly, I don't think he knows any other way.”

“Hmph.”

“Look. Do you have Imperial military protocol committed entirely to memory?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But he does. He put remembering protocols over remembering his own name. Doesn't that say something?”

“It says he's insane.”

“Regardless. He's lived a long, crappy life. Just be nice to the guy, okay? When I first met him, he didn't even know what a hug was. He's been receptive to the kindness I've shown him, so chances are he'll be receptive to any kindness you show him.”

One corner of Luna's mouth curled down in disgust. “You would have us be kind to him? We feel we would rather die.”

“I think you two have more in common than you know.”

“We are deeply offended by that statement. But…” She groaned. “We will try. For Equestria. For our sister.”

“That's better. Will you be staying here tonight?”

“Yes. There are still important matters for us to discuss with... him.” She recoiled at that last word.

“Alright. You can sleep in my bed for tonight.”

“Normally, we do not even require sleep. But after today, we would greatly appreciate some rest.” Luna sauntered off to Starlight's quarters. “We thank you, Miss Glimmer, for your kindness. At least there is some decency in your faction.”

“No problem.” Starlight watched as Luna walked out of sight. Once Luna wasn't around, Starlight smiled and started to chuckle. “Heartbreaking. Ha ha. That's terrible.” She laughed a bit more, then made her way to the Wanderer's empty bed for her own night's rest.

Chapter 20

As Starlight emerged from the keep's entrance after a leisurely lunch, she saw Luna peering up into the sky with the sun at her back. Starlight took a glance at the place where Luna was staring, and she saw three golden chariots, each pulled by two pegasi in Byzuntam city guard armor, and all but one lacking any passengers. The one on the left side carried a sky-blue unicorn mare, who wore a gray toga and a bronze thorny-branched crown over her flowing white mane streaked with gray.

“We recognize that mare,” Luna said.

“Really?” Starlight said. “Who is it?”

“She is the deceased Minister's daughter.” Luna turned her head to look at Starlight. “Despite witnessing the death of her father mere days ago, she seems little worse for wear.”

“Hm. That's… unusual.”

Luna was silent for a moment as she looked back to the chariots, which were nearing their descent. “We would be careful around that one if we were you.”

The three chariots made touchdown on a flat, open part of the camp, in a cloud of dust. After observing Starlight and Luna with her gray eyes, the blue unicorn stepped down from her chariot, and trotted up the hill to Starlight and Luna.

Once she came within speaking distance, she greeted them with a nod and a polite smile, and spoke in a Byzuntonian accent with a soft and cool cadence. “Hello there. Princess Luna and Starlight Glimmer, I presume?”

Starlight put on her own polite smile. “Yes. That's us. And who might you be?”

“I am Checkmate Master. It is a pleasure meeting you.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “We see your parents did not leave you wanting for an impressive-sounding name.”

“Oh, yes. I do rather enjoy my name. It is befitting of my character, after all. Oh, and for you, Princess…” Checkmate's horn glowed with a pale blue glow, and a weave of wooden thorny branches came out from a flap in her toga with an aura of the same color. She presented it to Luna. “Imperator wanted you to have this. You do know what it symbolizes, right?”

“Imperator? Would he be that brutish monster who murdered your father?”

Checkmate's polite smile went flat. “Now, now, Princess. It's not very professional of you to be bringing personal matters into this.” She paused. “But yes, that would be him.”

“We see.” Luna switched magical grips on the branches with Checkmate's and brought it close to her face to examine it. “And we do know what this means. Thank you, Checkmate.”

“You're welcome.”

Starlight put a hoof to her chin. “So, Checkmate… I take it you're the mare I was told I should meet?”

Checkmate's polite smile returned. “Oh. Yes, I am.”

“Well, what is it, exactly, that you… do?”

“Before I tell you, Starlight, let me preface it with a bit of my own personal history.” She cleared her throat. “When I was born, my family was just a minor criminal family in Cordelphi. Daddy had a few dealers under his belt, a bit of muscle to enforce it, some launderers and some smugglers, but he wasn't a major player. He, the buffoon that he was, just didn't have the talent to be anything but small fish.

She placed a hoof on her chest. “That was where I came in. Ever since I was a filly, I had a knack for nudging just the right pieces to just the right places, and saying just the right things in just the right ears. Only problem was that I was a filly, not a colt. But it wasn't a huge problem. Daddy noticed my talents, and started listening to my advice. Even as an adolescent, I'd been giving him winning advice, and our entire family slowly accumulated power over time because of it. I was the best player in the big, complicated chess game that was Federation politics. He was my king piece, of course, but a piece nonetheless. He's dead now, but only because this war threw the whole board in the trash bin.

“So, what do I do? I write speeches, I plan and organize public events, I design posters, I speak with political figures… to make a long story short, I'm a diplomat. I brought my father – which is to say, myself – in power with those talents. If it weren't for me, Imperator would've killed someone on the throne who was actually competent.” She paused. “So, are you sold yet?”

Starlight tapped a hoof on the ground. “Well, I do say, Checkmate. You make quite an impressive case for yourself. But what if none of this is true?”

“Then I'm an outstanding liar, and you should consider hiring me just for that.”

Starlight chuckled. “Confident, are we?”

“The Fates do favor the bold.”

“Hmm… you know what? Sure. I'll give you a shot.”

Luna let out an exasperated sigh and looked to Starlight. “Miss Glimmer, are you going to fill your entire cabinet with sociopaths?”

Starlight looked back to Luna. “If they're good at their jobs, then I don't see why not.”

“We can only wonder what that says about your own moral character.”

Starlight gave Luna a dismissive flick of the hoof. “Oh, don't be such a windbag. If I did all my hiring based on how moral a pony was, my cabinet would be full of starry-eyed young children with cape fixations.”

“We will have you know, Miss Glimmer, that our own cabinet has plenty of talented individuals who don't have lumps of coal for hearts. Maybe those are rarer here, but we are sure you could find some for yourself.”

“These are turbulent times, Princess. You take what you can while you can.” She looked to Checkmate. “Isn't that right, Checkmate?”

“That's always a correct statement, but it is especially so now.”

“Imperator… where does that name come from, anyway?”

“The old Romulan term for 'war-marshal'. It's what those rock-things address him as, so that's what everyone else calls him.”

“What does everyone in the city think of him, anyway? There is a certain image I'd like to maintain, after all.”

Checkmate's smile faded. “Everyone's scared to death of him and those golems he bosses around. They don't even hate him for the most part. Their communal leaders have been crucified, their spirits are broken, and they've been beaten into a state of catatonic despair. Not as bad as a state of open rebellion, but still far from ideal.”

“Was that intentional?”

“It was. It was explained to me that invoking terror and hopelessness in the conquered is all part of Imperial protocol. I suppose if you rule by fear alone for thousands of years, you get good at it.”

Starlight shook her head in disappointment. “Don't they know that it's best to be loved as well as feared?”

“They do. They just go about it differently. Loyalty from the Imperial citizenry, itself, is assured through respect for martial prowess and a privileged place in Wasteland society. Loyalty from the slave underclass is assured by destroying their capacity to harbor rebellious thoughts, via lobotomies. Loyalty from the client states is assured through various forms of divide-and-conquer, having them fight amongst themselves so they don't have the will or capacity to rebel against the Empire. But you see the problem here, don't you?”

“It's all based on making sure that they're weak, which means they make terrible servants regardless of their loyalty.”

Checkmate's smile returned. “Exactly.” She paused. “Give your guy some credit. His ways aren't the most healthy for public approval, but they work, and scaremongering seems to be where he's in his element. There's room for improvement, sure, but wartime isn't the best time to start trying to fix what isn't broken. And you know, having them cross the despair horizon doesn't have to be a bad thing…”

Starlight nodded. “You're right. It isn't.” She waved a hoof to the distant Starlightopolis. “I'll confidently ride into the city in my beautiful regalia, with fanfare and a red carpet, and I'll lift them up from their despair with marvelous promises of a new age of joy, prosperity, and equality under my wise and benevolent leadership. Turn these lemons into lemonade.”

“I see you're as smart as Imperator said you were. Really rare for an Equestrian, but clearly not impossible.”

“I take it the city's all ready for me now?”

Checkmate nodded. “Yep. Everything's all spic and span for you. I was told you wanted to make a public speech tomorrow evening. Is that true?”

“It is. I'm quite the orator myself, you know.”

“And quite the hypocrite,” Checkmate said with a wink.

“Oh, so you know about that… thing.”

“I do. Imperator told me. He also told me that if I'd shown any qualms with it, he'd have killed me right then and there. As you can see, I didn't, and I don't.”

Luna gave a suspicious look to Checkmate. “What thing might that be?”

Checkmate looked back to Luna. “Nothing you should concern yourself with, your majesty.”

Luna's sardonic gaze drew to the side. “We can see why he likes you so much,” she muttered.

Checkmate looked back to Starlight, then extended a hoof to her. “I only ask that you grant me the same privilege.”

Starlight pressed her own hoof to Checkmate's, then shook it. “Done.”

“I look forward to working with you.” Checkmate broke the shake, then gestured to the chariots. “You stand in the middle one, Starlight. Luna, you get the one on the right.”

“Wait,” Luna said, “we do not see why we would be allowed a chariot alongside you and Miss Glimmer.”

“A regal chariot for one of regal status, Princess. He gave you the thorny branches, and he meant it.”

“Before we go with you, we must ask you what is to be arranged for the others here. Our guards, and the… marechild.”

“Oh. We have that covered. They're traveling by a shuttle driven by your camp garrison here.”

“Let's not waste any more time,” Starlight said. “Take me to my chariot, Checkmate.”

“Of course.” Checkmate turned around and walked down the hill, looking back Starlight, who was following her to the chariots beside Luna. “I'm eager to hear you speak, by the way. Any leader worth her salt has to be good at speeches.”

Starlight stared down at her city with the wind brushing against her face as her chariot carried her to the palace. Most of the city's population was now homeless; rows of tents had to be set up in a fashion similar to an army's camp just to accommodate them. Their old homes, after all, were as fragile as they were ugly, and their ruins were completely swept away on Imperator's orders. The more useful, or more loyal, city dwellers were moved into the old brick apartments, which survived due to their sturdiness; many were left vacant after their past owners were killed in the attack, and those that weren't vacant were made so. Whether they were huddled around campfires, doing basic chores and tasks, or just laying around traumatized in their beds, they were always under the watchful eyes of the stone golems that now enforced order. And order was enforced. Brutally enforced.

Starlight's chariot started its descent, followed by the two chariots beside it. As they made touchdown on the red carpet laid flat on the paved marble road, Starlightopolis city guards who bore trumpets greeted them with thunderous fanfare. Starlight was overwhelmed with joy and awe at the glimmering marble structures around her that were cleaned and polished for this occasion, and the rose petals that blessed the air with their fragrant scents as they rained down from the sky. Rows of guards stood in perfect stillness on both sides of the road that they faced. Starlight looked to Checkmate, who looked back to her with a content smile. Starlight then turned to Luna, who bore a bitter scowl and a glazed look in the eye. This wasn't too surprising; she'd probably seen all this hundreds of times before. By the time Starlight looked in front of her again, the three chariots stopped in front of the palace stairway, made of spotless and glistening marble, and with the red carpet laid down on it. Starlight's gaze drew gradually up the stairway, seeing not one speck of dust or debris on it, until she finally looked to the top, where Imperator stood clad in clean and polished armor, staring down at her with eight golems standing at attention at both his sides. Starlight, along with Checkmate and Luna, disembarked from her chariot and made the ascent up the stairs. The fanfare reached its climax, and the falling of rose petals started to wane. Once the three mares made it to the top, Imperator gestured his golems away, and looked to Starlight.

“Welcome to the Starlightopolis palace, Starlight.”

“Well,” Starlight said, looking all around her, “this place sure does clean up nicely.”

“Fortunately so. The populace would have had hell to pay if it did not.” He looked to Checkmate. “And I see you have met with her. So, has Starlight given you her approval?”

“Yes,” Checkmate replied, “she has.”

“And you have presented my gift to the Princess?”

“Yes. I have.”

“Excellent. You are off to a good start, Checkmate.” He looked to Luna. “Judging by your presence here, Princess, would I be correct to assume that you have accepted my gift?”

Luna gave him a begrudging nod. “Yes. Despite your actions, we will try to cooperate with you and mind our manners with you. But only in service to Equestria, and out of respect for Miss Glimmer's wishes. We still cannot express enough our utter contempt for you.”

“I am not concerned with your personal opinion of me, your highness. Your professional cooperation is enough.” He looked to Starlight. “The Princess does remind me, however. Are you still sore about our little disagreement?”

“Not at all. Checkmate convinced me that it wasn't all bad.”

“Oh, did she now?” He looked to Checkmate. “Only a few days, and you are already solving our personal quarrels. I am so very glad I spared you. Such a talented young mare. Keep it up.”

Checkmate smirked. “Thank you. I intend to.”

Imperator looked back to Starlight. “So, would you like to enter your palace?”

“Of course.”

“Then follow me.” He turned around to face the palace doors, painted in stunning royal blue and outlined with gold, then shouted, “Össen!”

The doors were dragged open, revealing a spacious lobby with a marble floor painted blue, white marble stairs going up both sides to a doorway, and a glistening golden chandelier adorned with spotless white glass hanging from golden chains. Once Starlight stepped into the palace, the pleasing heat that warmed her hoof from the floor made her gasp in pleasant surprise. The smile on her face only grew as she gleefully rubbed it.

“Are you enjoying the heated flooring, Starlight?” Imperator asked.

“It's wonderful!” she replied. “And here I thought heated floors were only for the very rich and powerful.”

“That is still true. It is just that you are now among them.”

Checkmate gave Starlight a nudge. “Welcome to the big leagues, sis.”

Starlight looked back to Imperator. “So, what else do you have to show me?”

“My dear, I was just getting started. I have plenty more to show you. The library is upstairs. I am sure you are eager to see what reading material you have available.”

She followed him up the left stairway with Checkmate and Luna. Starlight couldn't help but notice Luna's sneering disgust upon climbing it, which she found very strange. The stairs were as clean as everything else. Once the doors were opened, Starlight was treated to a sight she hadn't seen in a long time: numerous rows of books stocked in shelves. The shelves on the left were stocked with fiction books, grouped together by genre, with the books in each genre sorted alphabetically according first by the authors' names, then by their titles. Nonfiction was stocked on the right side, grouped together by subject, sub-grouped by the specific portion of the subject that each individual book covered. Starlight looked at this library, with books laid as far as the eye could see and organized in such a convenient manner, and found it completely breathtaking. The bookworm in her almost fainted.

Imperator looked at her with a slightly tilted head. “Are you alright?”

“It's just…” She was still spellbound.

“I know that you deeply enjoy books, but even for you, this reaction is a bit much.”

After staring at the books for several moments, she snapped herself out of her trance, and looked back to Imperator. “Well, it's just that I haven't seen this many books in one place since I was a university student. And even then, it wasn't nearly this well-organized.”

Checkmate walked up next to Imperator, then turned around to look at Starlight. “This is how every library in the Wasteland is organized. I'd have thought Equestria would've had an even better system for this.”

Starlight sighed. “No, Checkmate, it doesn't. Equestria's libraries have all their books stacked together, alphabetically, according to title.”

“All alphabetically?” Checkmate asked.

“According to title?” Imperator added.

Checkmate and Imperator looked at each other; Checkmate had confusion in her eyes. Then they looked back to Starlight. “Do they not even separate fiction from nonfiction?” Checkmate asked.

“No,” Starlight replied.

“That's just embarrassing. How's a university student supposed to get anything done in that mess of a system?”

“She just does.”

“Well,” Imperator said, “you will not have to bother yourself with such a useless system any longer.”

Luna scoffed. “We will have you know, Imperial, that our libraries are well enough staffed that they do not need to devise these redundant methods of organizing bookshelves.”

Imperator looked to Luna. “Does your populace really have nothing better to do than waste time and effort on inefficient library protocols?”

“You would be surprised how much free time a society can have when they are not burdened by war and poverty on a consistent basis.”

“Well, if you ask me, your society could use a bit of hardship. It is really no wonder that your capitol's city garrison crumples like a paper cup at even the smallest Changeling incursion.”

Luna was taken aback. “How do you know about that?”

“When things as humiliating as that happen to your pathetic excuse for a nation, word tends to spread quite swiftly.”

Starlight groaned and pressed a hoof on her forehead. “Can you two spend ten minutes around each other without all this petty bickering?”

Luna snapped her gaze to Starlight. “He is bashing your own home country! Have you no pride?”

“I happen to like this system of theirs. Just because I'm proud of my heritage doesn't mean I can't admit that others have their merits.” She put on a resentful scowl. “And I don't appreciate you starting these arguments one bit. You said you would be nice. If you don't have anything nice to say, then just sit there and shut your mouth.”

Luna snarled and furrowed her brows. “How dare you! What makes you think you can speak that way to a Princess?”

“For one, your behavior isn't very becoming of a Princess. And don't forget, Luna, that you aren't the only alicorn here. Oh, that reminds me.” She looked to Imperator. “You know she tried to convince me to help her kill you so I could be Celestia's vassal?”

Imperator let out a slight chortle. “And I suppose she paired this lackluster deal with her usual tactless bleating?”

“Naturally.”

He looked to Luna. “Well. It looks like you have shown a lack of honor to go along with your lack of anything resembling charisma. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Normally, we are above such duplicity. But for the likes of you, we would make an exception.”

“Duplicity requires subtlety, Princess, and you are about as subtle as a hammer to the face.” He looked to Starlight. “You are not actually going to take her up on her offer, are you?”

“No! Getting rid of someone who believes in my cause and does such good work for it, then binding myself in service to a sovereign who's so wracked with grief that she can barely function anymore? What kind of deal is that?”

Luna glared at Starlight. “A deal anyone would accept if they had any moral fiber whatsoever.”

Something clicked in Starlight that filled her with rage until her thoughts were a muddied blur. She gave Luna a deadly stare that burned with fury. “Well, you know what? SCREW YOUR MORALS! You can take 'em, dip 'em in water, and stick 'em where the sun doesn't shine. I'm sick of having you pretentious idiots insult my intelligence and preach your dumb little morals to me. They don't work. They don't do a thing for me. I've been more free and more successful disregarding them entirely, so I don't care to hear for the umpteenth time about how terrible I am for not being some sentimental little wuss who has her heart bleed every time she does even the slightest thing at someone else's expense. It's not that I'm misguided, it's not that there's some weird little internal issue that needs dealing with, and it's certainly not that I don't know any better. It's just the simple fact that I. Do. Not. Care.” There was a moment of tense silence; Imperator and Checkmate glanced at each other for a moment, then turned their gazes back to Luna.

“An apt description of my feelings on the matter,” Imperator said.

“And mine as well,” Checkmate added.

Imperator looked to Luna. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Making Starlight so deeply enraged like that despite her greatest efforts to be pleasant. What is the matter with you?”

Luna raised her voice. “We'll tell you what's the matter with us!” She flung a hoof in the air. “We have been dragged into cahoots with a psychotic mass murderer, a stone-hearted witch who does not care in the slightest that this same mass murderer savagely killed her own father…” she looked to Starlight, “…and this one, a foul-mouthed megalomaniac with anger issues who willingly befriends these creatures and puts them in positions of authority. If only our sister were here. She would give ea-”

“Enough.” Imperator barked.

“I agree,” Starlight said. “This is the last time I'm letting you, Luna, speak to any of us in person ever again. Oh, you're so right to want your sister here. Even a traumatized head case like her would be better at discussing business than you. And Ebony can forget about speaking to my partner.”

Luna slammed a hoof on the floor. “Fine! We did not intend to let her anywhere near him, anyway.”

Imperator said, “The next words out of your mouth had better be 'I apologize', or you can forget about us helping you against the Empire's assault in the slightest.” There was a brief silence as Imperator walked close to Luna and leaned his head to her ear to whisper. “As this army's commander, I would go out of my way to let the Empire do whatever she wishes to your pathetic armed forces just to spite you, and I would deeply enjoy doing so.” He withdrew, and stepped back to his original spot.

Luna, after looking down to the ground trembling with indignation, looked to Checkmate, who was staring at her with a malevolent smirk. Luna drew a long sigh, then looked back up to Imperator. “I apologize.”

“Very good. Now, let us make this quick. I assume that you have fortified the bridge crossing, as we agreed?”

“Yes.” There was still clear anger in her voice despite her attempts to stifle it. “We were going to ask that you attack the Imperial army north of the bridge so that we could organize a counterattack and catch them off guard.”

“Hm. And what did Miss Glimmer tell you?”

“She told us that you did not have much you could spare.”

“And what did you tell her in response?”

She hesitated. “We told her she did not know what she was talking about.”

“What she said was true. She knows more about these matters than you give her credit for. With how little actual hitting power your force has, a counterattack from you would be rather ineffectual, even if it were from the rear and entirely unexpected. We would be throwing our forces away on a folly. A counterattack from us, on the other hand, would be effective, but it would mean giving them ground south of the bridge.”

“So our fortifications were a big waste?”

“No.”

“If giving them ground is necessary, then why have us fortify the crossing?”

“To make establishing a hold on the south side of the bridge more costly for them. I was not expecting circumstances for your force to take such a sharp nosedive, but I did have a backup plan for you in case you could not hold that chokepoint. Fighting in chokepoints is one of the Legions' specialties, after all.” He paused. “Once they have made the breach, make a tactical retreat, then spread your ranks large and wide. Then, we will attack from the rear.” He waited for a response from her, but to no avail. “You are lucky to be getting that much. Take it or leave it.”

“Ugh! You have no idea how much we hate you.”

“Take it. Or. Leave it.”

Luna glared at him in silence, then spoke. “Fine. We'll take it.”

“Good.” He pointed at the palace exit. “Now, get out of my sight.”

“Gladly. We wish only the worst for Miss Glimmer's little vanity project.” Luna pointed her nose in the air and strutted out of the palace in a huff.

After waiting for Luna to leave the palace completely, Starlight turned her anger on Imperator. “And you! Don't think you're off the hook. You prodding her hasn't exactly been helpful either, you know. You haven't been any better about this than she has. I've been walking on eggshells to keep this alliance together because you two idiots just plain refuse to get along!”

He sighed. “Yes. I know. My conduct here was entirely completely uncalled for, and I take full responsibility for it.”

Seeing Imperator openly admitting his mistakes, instead of trying to pin it on her for her one outburst, Starlight felt her rage start to fade to irateness. “That's… surprisingly reasonable.”

“Perhaps it is acceptable for the Equestrian officer to conduct himself like a fraternity boy among his peers, but the Imperial holds himself to a higher standard.”

“Well, what happened between you two a few days ago? Shouldn't have you been professional then, too?”

“Luna told you what happened.”

“I wanna hear your side of the story.”

“Miss Luna came to me without foreword, in an entirely inappropriate setting. Such discussions should take place in a formal setting at a specific, scheduled time, not in the middle of an occupation. The circumstances already both informal and unprofessional, I went out of my way to offend her and show her my disdain.” He paused. “My mistake was continuing to do so in a situation where it was not appropriate. That is what I take responsibility for.”

“I know Luna isn't exactly a poster child for good manners, but was she really that bad?”

“I do my absolute best to keep a calm and steady mind at all times, but to see one of such reverence and status as Luna acting in a childish manner that would have even a fresh legionary tied to a post and scourged evokes from me contempt that even I have trouble keeping tempered.”

“Wait. Scourged?”

“Flogged. Whipped. Normally using a tool with bits of sharp metal at the end to increase physical damage. It normally precedes crucifixion if one is condemned to the cross, but the scourge need not precede the cross.”

She looked to Checkmate. “You told me he had some ponies crucified. Were they scourged, too?”

“They were,” she replied.

“Hmph.” She looked back to Imperator. “Well, Luna's not a soldier, and she's definitely not a legionary. You should cut her some slack.”

“If a civilian wants to play dress-up, the least she can do is act the part.”

She groaned. “You sound just like my dad. Look. She shouldn't be a problem anymore. Let's just drop this whole thing, okay?”

“Of course. Will you excuse my egregiously unprofessional behavior here?”

Starlight looked to the side. “I really shouldn't.” Suddenly, her lingering anger expelled itself from her like steam from a geyser, and after a sigh of relief, she looked back to him with a warm smile. “But I will anyway. Aw, come here, you.” She walked in close to him, then embraced him in a hug. “It's okay. We all make mistakes. Even professionals.”

He wrapped a hoof around Starlight; she felt joy in his embrace around her back and sides, with the warmth radiating from the plates of his armor and the flame on his plume. “Thank you, Starlight. You are a real dear.” After he pat her on the back, Starlight released her hold and took a few steps back.

“Wow,” Checkmate said, “she sure does change moods fast.”

Imperator raised a hoof and ruffled Starlight's mane with a playful rub. “She does. Is it not endearing?”

“It isn't by most ponies' standards. But hey, whatever works for you.”

He looked to Checkmate as Starlight magically fixed her mane. “Show Starlight around the library, would you? I need to gather a few things and bring them back here.”

“There's more?” Starlight asked.

“There's lots more.” Imperator replied.

“Well, go on then. Don't keep me waiting.”

“If I have my way, it will be well worth the wait.” With that, he turned to the upward staircase on the other side of the room and went off on his way.

Starlight waited until he was completely out of the room, then looked to Checkmate. “So, Checkmate. Do you know your way around a library?”

Checkmate smirked. “Of course. What kind of unicorn would I be if I couldn't use a library?”

“Good point.”

“So, Starlight. What sort of book are you interested in? We have a sizable collection covering a wide variety of subjects.”

“Hm. Would you, by any chance, have books on neurology?”

“Ah. Neurology. That should be under anatomy and medicine. Follow me. I'll show you right to it.”

Checkmate and Starlight made the trek down one of the rows of bookshelves on the right. Starlight took glances at all the different books of all different shapes and sizes. One thing that struck Starlight was the amount of books dedicated to philosophy and ethics. A strange thought, such an unethical place as the Wasteland having so many books on ethics compared to Equestria, but not completely strange. After all, any subject whose contents aren't universally agreed upon will evoke curiosity and discussion, which will invariably generate more written content than something everyone agrees on, in which case writing is only needed for the sake of keeping records. There were also a fair amount of books on history, and on ancient myths and religions. The only thing that Starlight found lacking in this collection was its lack of writing on the sciences. Although she was no slouch with other aspects of knowledge, she was always extremely talented with the sciences, hard and soft alike. Indeed, extreme talent was required for doing near-unimaginable things like inventing a magical spell that removes cutie marks. But there was the Empire, which built its master-slave social dynamic on eugenics and lobotomization despite being largely stuck in technological stasis. This left her wondering. How is such an unscientific society able to perfect a procedure as delicate as lobotomization? How is a culture with an otherwise primitive understanding of medical science able to snip and tear at such an immensely complex organ as the brain, and get any adequate result from it? She thought maybe Checkmate had some answers.

“Hey, uh, Checkmate?”

“Yes?”

“About the Empire's lobotomies. When did that come about, anyway?”

“A few hundred years ago.”

“Why did they start doing that, anyway?”

“Do you want the short version, or the long version?”

“Long sounds alright. We have time.”

“Very well, then.” She paused. “When Planetvoid died, the Empire was barely able to hold together between her two puppets and its own slave populace, both from the loss of Planetvoid's leadership, and from the spiritual shockwave that his death caused throughout the Wasteland. Revolts were rampant, and they had very limited means of controlling their subjects. This forced the early Kaisers to enforce various means of population control, and destroy large swathes of the population that was already there through mass killings. A bit like what's going on now, but on a far grander scale for its time. As this was going on, the Empire's best minds were working overtime on a reliable method of keeping the slaves in line, in the most cost-effective manner possible.

“They experimented with a few methods. They tried the magical method, like what Sombra used. But although it could work for an insular city-state with a relatively small population, like the Crystal Empire, the Holy Empire of Styx had a great deal more slaves to manage across a much wider area, so it would've required more magical energy running indefinitely than they were willing to afford. They flirted with the idea of mass surveillance for a time, but this never got past the theoretical stage because, again, it proved more expensive than the Empire could afford. They even tried a concentration, or labor camp method, but even this was too expensive for the Empire's liking.

“Eventually, the idea of making a permanent alteration to the brain, itself, in a way that required no magical maintenance, and that used simple tools made from easily acquired materials, became dominant. This led to the earliest experiments with lobotomization. Its early development was largely trial-and-error, with slave deaths as a result of them well in the tens of thousands. It's easy to imagine the very first 'lobotomies' being nothing more than well-read sadists poking and cutting at slaves' brains from open craniums to see what would happen, and that wouldn't be too far from the truth. But after lots and lots and lots of death, they eventually found a reliable method of altering the brain, in a relatively non-intrusive manner that ran risks acceptable enough for the Imperial government to tolerate.

“And so, lobotomization of slaves became the Empire's standard practice. Despite somewhat of a decline in each slave's individual productiveness, it was a huge success overall. They required no magic to control because they were handicapped at their most basic of levels, and they required no surveillance because there was no need to clamp down on behaviors they simply had no way of exhibiting. The Empire was free to focus several times more effort on controlling its puppets, and they could breed as many slaves as they liked without having to worry about revolts. Lobotomization has been perfected and diversified over time, from the simplistic lobotomies of early times to the rich and complex process that it is today. Does that answer your question?”

“It does,” Starlight said. “Are we at those books yet?”

“We're almost there. Oh, if you don't mind me asking, what made you bring up lobotomies anyway?”

“Well, there's a very big reason why I'm interested in neurology, and lobotomies have a lot to do with it.”

“How so?”

“I want to reverse all the lobotomies.”

Checkmate stopped in her place, and gaped at Starlight, staring in silence for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Checkmate stayed silent.

“What? You think it can't be done?”

She shook her head. “Tsk. Starlight. Darling. The Wasteland is no place for idealistic flights of fancy. The Empire's gone through all this work do find the best possible method of controlling slaves, and here you are wanting to throw all that away because, why? You feel sympathy for them?”

“I want to end slavery as a practice.”

“And replace it with what?”

“Factories. Industry.”

“Fac… to… ries… oh! I've heard of those. They're those big workshops in Equestria where things are built by machines, right? In long lines of assembly?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I'm glad to see you're not completely naive. I can see why you'd want to replace slave labor with mechanized labor. I can even see why you'd want to de-lobotomize the workforce as part of such a transition. But darling, repairing organs is a lot harder than breaking them down. And this is the brain we're talking about. One of the most complex and complicated phenomenons on the entire planet. And doing it on such a massive scale? What you're suggesting isn't exactly wine and olives.”

“Well, I'm willing to dedicate all my free time to studying all the books and scientific journals I can to make it happen. For my own personal sake as much as anything. Do you know how boring and embarrassing it is to do sit around doing nothing while my partner does all the heavy lifting? This is my story. I want to do my part, and this is how I'm going to do it.”

“That's noble of you, I guess. A university graduate knows what dedicated study is and what it entails, so I suppose your promises aren't extremely unrealistic. Just don't obsess over it so much that you go insane if it proves to be above your capabilities. If you go insane, then the population won't like it, and the Praetorians certainly won't tolerate it.”

Starlight groaned. “It's starting to look to me like the Praetorians are more trouble than they're worth.”

“Each Praetorian is elite even by Imperial standards, and you get a whole cohort of them. They're an ideal protective force if you don't get too far on their bad side. If you're not an idiot, then you'll get along fine with them.”

“But I'm not even an Imperial.”

“The current Kaiser. Shattered Dreams. Nobody likes him, least of all the Praetorian Guard. Yet, he still rules, mostly because his sponsors bribe them not to murder him. That, and it's not easy to find anyone who wants to be Kaiser these days who's fit for the job. Just do something impressive that'll make them not want to kill you.”

“Oh. I already have that covered. I'm going to defeat the Legate in a duel.”

“The Legate? Snakefang Gelder?”

Starlight nodded.

“That guy's a beast. I hear he fought off an entire battalion of Changelings all by himself. You better be ready for the fight of your life, darling. Even putting a scratch on his armor won't be easy.” She looked to the upper part of the bookshelf to her left. “Oh, here they are! Lemme just slip a few pieces out from here…” Checkmate's horn glowed pale blue, and an aura formed around a large stack of leather-cased books, which was slid out from the shelf, then rotated ninety degrees so its frontmost book faced the ceiling.

Starlight looked at the title of this book: The Frontal Lobe: Parts Necessary and Parts Unnecessary. It was a very thick book, looking to be about a thousand pages. 'All that print, just for the frontal lobe? I really have my work cut out for me,' Starlight thought to herself.

“Okay,” Checkmate said, “let's go back. Imperator probably has that stuff ready for you by now.”

Starlight nodded. “Alright. Let's go.”

They sauntered down back the way they came. Starlight still took passing glances at the books she walked by with a feeling of content, knowing that all these books were now hers. Nearing the library entrance, a glittering that illuminated a silver jewelry box on a table caught Starlight's gaze. Starlight upped her pace, eager to see the contents of this box. There, Imperator stood in wait for her.

“So, Starlight, I see you have already taken some books for yourself.”

She nodded. “Yep. Neurology.”

“To reverse the lobotomies?”

“Of course.”

“I am still skeptical, you know. But I suppose if there is anyone in the world who can do it, it is you. But, anyway. Do you remember when I told you that I was using the secret gold stash for a secret purpose?”

Starlight smirked. “I like where this is going.”

He motioned to the box. “Open it. The secret will be revealed.”

Starlight took delicate steps to the box, and with magic, she unlatched the box, and flipped it open. What was inside amazed her. In the box, sitting on a plush bed of purple satin, was a gold coin, buffed and polished to a striking luster, embossed with her own smiling visage and a motto underneath: 'Equality for Eternity.' She magically lifted it up from inside the box, and flipped it over to look at the other side, which had embossed on it the equal mark, and another message: 'Minted in Year I of the Equal Age.' She was completely stunned. “I… I… I…” Once the image set in Starlight's mind, she looked to Imperator with a wide and toothy grin. “I love it!”

“This is a sample that I extracted from the first batch of the new currency.”

“But aren't schillings made of silver?”

“Does Equestria not use a gold currency?”

“They do. But then, they have a lot of gold. We don't have to base our new money on gold. In fact, we don't have to base it on anything but our own population's faith in it.”

He hesitated. “You lost me.”

“It's called a fiat currency. An expert in economics could explain it to you in detail, but basically, it would allow us to make money made of nickel or copper, or even just paper, and it would make the circulation of goods much more fluid. And it would give our citizens some peace of mind knowing they don't have to worry as much about being mugged, since they're not carrying piles of gold around in their saddlebags anymore.”

“A currency made of paper? Would that not be incredibly easy to counterfeit?”

“Not if we use a special ink to print it.”

“You never fail to impress.”

She chuckled, flattered at the comment. “So, about the gold. How much in weight is the stash?”

“Just over a metric ton.”

“Hmm. We couldn't exactly buy their entire kingdom with that, but I think we can buy enough to get started. As pretty as it is, it's still just a piece of shiny soft metal, so we don't need to worry too much about keeping it sitting around.”

“Very good. Now, there is one last thing for me to show you. Have you ever slept in a bed with a mattress stuffed with pegasus feathers?”

“You're showing me the Minister's bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then. Lead the way.” She looked to Checkmate. “You may go.”

Checkmate nodded. “Of course. I will make sure the city is ready for your speech tomorrow.”

As Starlight eased her thorny crown on her freshly cleaned toga, folded and set atop the Minister's varnished oaken dresser, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyelids weighed down heavy over her eyes, as the lull of a good night's sleep beckoned her to retire for the day. She'd spent several days prior practicing for her big speech, memorizing the words and perfecting her delivery of them. A hearty rest was sorely needed. She looked to one corner of the room, and slowly drew her gaze out from it. The room was a lavish marble bedchamber; her first sight was an open window, draped on two sides with purple satin curtains hanging over a silver frame, letting the cool nighttime air breathe tickle them. Next to the window was her bed, large enough to fit a small elephant, yet elegantly decorated with a silver frame holding up a mattress draped in a silk blanket that barely touched the pillows sitting on the far end of it, and yet more satin curtains that hung down from near the ceiling on all four sides, with the front curtain pushed aside. Laid down in front of the bed was a carpet with an exotic – Saddle Arabian, apparently – flowing design of plants and flowers. Lastly, on the other side of the room, was an oaken door with an intricate brass handle that led to the washroom. The door was closed, as the washroom was in use by Imperator, but she had already brushed her teeth with minty toothpaste, and taken a refreshing shower in steamy warm water with smooth cinnamon-scented soap. Running water was something that, in and of itself, she'd sorely missed since she left Our Town. But the Minister's washroom was outfitted with an extravagant porcelain shower, dual sink, bidet, and toilet. This was grand even by Equestrian standards, but in a land where one was lucky to have more than a couple wooden buckets, this was unimaginable luxury of truly staggering magnitude.

As Imperator opened the washroom door, still in his armor, Starlight turned to him to speak. “That armor is probably very uncomfortable. Are you really going to sleep in that?”

He turned his head to the side and down, remaining silent.

“What's wrong?” Starlight asked.

He lifted his head back up to face her. “I have had to sleep standing up these past few days. Laying down in a bed is, to be frank, rather difficult. You need not be concerned with it.”

Starlight shot him a stern look. “No. I do need to be concerned with it. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I would rather not bother you with it. Please, enjoy your rest.”

Not wanting to let this up, Starlight walked closer to him to examine him carefully. There was nothing out of the ordinary with his legs, head, or any other immediately obvious thing, but there was something odd about the way his cape draped over his sides. It was spread too wide, and slightly pointed on each side, not contouring to his torso in any sensical manner. Once Imperator noticed where Starlight was focusing her attention, he took slow and deliberate steps away from her. Annoyed by this, Starlight raised up a hoof and gave one of those pointed ends a firm tap. This made Imperator jolt in place and go into a fit of coughing as droplets of silky smooth golden fluid fell onto the floor from underneath the cape on both sides. 'Ichor,' Starlight thought to herself, 'alicorns bleed ichor.' At the glow of Starlight's horn, Imperator's cape was flung to the side, and Starlight was treated to the sight of a wooden shaft impaling his belly. One side was broken and splintered; the other had feathers glued on it.

“So,” Imperator said with slight stifled pain in his voice, “now you know.”

Starlight let out an exasperated huff. “Wh-… wha-… what the hell is this!?”

“I was wounded during the *cough* occupation. A ballista's shot at close range, with a bolt spo- *cough* sporting a head of adamant, shaped narrow to pierce armor. These plates are exquisite protection, but not *cough* invulnerable.”

“You actually fought like this?”

“I would be an emba- *cough* an embarrassment to the Reich if I could not.”

“Well, why didn't you tell me about this? This isn't exactly a paper cut.”

“A professional does not complain about pain that he accepts as *cough* part of his job.”

“There are other professionals whose job is to treat this sort of thing, you know!”

“I could not find any.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't go around killing things indiscriminately and scaring everyone shitless, you could find one!” She sighed. “Lucky for you, I'm adept at solving exactly this sort of problem. Now, hold still…”

She lit her horn, and focused all her attention on the wound. Care was taken in sliding the bolt out of his stomach. A shield was formed around the splintered end so that not a single shard of wood would be left stuck inside. Imperator, now more prepared for holding back expressions of pain, kept completely silent. Gradually, the shaft exited the wound, being coated in golden ichor as it did so. Once it left the wound completely, Starlight removed the aura around it, sending it plummeting to the ground and leaving a spatter of ichor where it landed. Then, she put her mental effort into mending the torn flesh. She could sense that no vital organ or blood vessel was severely damaged, so her efforts went mainly to the skin, the muscle, and what very little there was in fat. Every part of the body worked together as a single, cohesive unit, and each part was vastly complex in its function. Thus, it took considerable talent and skill to mend even minor wounds with magic, and the wound Starlight was mending was far from minor. But after some time, the flesh healed seamlessly, save for a relatively minor scar, which fit well into the already sizable collection of scars on his body. Finally, she focused on his armor – she didn't want this happening to him again, after all – and began work on that. Although she wasn't sure what the armor was even made from, she did her best to close the gap. There was something supernatural about this armor's material, and manipulating it wore on her greatly. But again, after some time, it all came together seamlessly. Starlight looked at her work and smiled proudly. After licking her hoof and wiping the ichor stains off the spot, she planted a kiss on it, and stepped backward to find Imperator staring at her in awe.

“Miss Glimmer. That… that was utterly astounding. You have done in minutes what even the best surgeons would have done in hours.”

“There. You see?” She wrapped a hoof around his neck. “You get some tender loving care from your precious dear Starlight, and she still doesn't think any less of you for it. And now, she's going to ask if you want to share the bed with her.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Again, Starlight?”

She released her hold, then nodded. “Sure. I actually kinda liked it last time. It was comfy. And I think a guy who literally took a bullet for me deserves to share the best bed in the palace with me.”

“Ballista bolt.”

She dismissively waved a hoof. “Close enough. So, you'll do it?”

“Hmm… I suppose there are worse ways to spend a night.”

“Excellent!” she chirped. “Just take a shower before you get in the bed, okay? You probably reek. I don't want to share a bed with someone who reeks.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

As Imperator turned and walked back into the washroom, Starlight walked up next to the bed, and prodded at it with a hoof. Very soft. Soft as only a bed of pegasus feathers could be. With so many of the Empire's pegasus slaves getting their wings clipped or torn off, it'd be a shame to let all those feathers go to waste. With magic, she lifted the blanket up, and slipped herself into the bed before easing the blanket on her, laying on her side. As she rested her head on a pillow, also stuffed with pegasus feathers, she fell into a state of relaxed bliss. To her, it felt like she really was sleeping on a cloud. Letting the sound of running water from the shower on the other side of the room fill the air, she shut her eyes, accepting the call to sleep that echoed in the back of her mind. She hadn't slept in such a wondrous way her entire life, and the wonder was even greater at the thought that once the Wasteland belonged to her, this was how she'd sleep every night for a very long time to come.

Chapter 21

In this evening to be remembered forever, Starlight looked at herself in the mirror, dressed sharply in her toga and crown, examining her appearance in search of any glaring flaw. Her speech was only an hour away, and she wanted it to be as close to perfect as possible. First impressions were lasting, after all.

Checkmate Master had gotten the crowd assembled and in the mood for a rally; Imperator's centaurs made sure its less favorable members were kept in check. Just yesterday, Starlight had conferred with Checkmate concerning the specifics of the event. Getting these things all planned and prepared in a few days was no easy feat, but with Checkmate's superb organizational skills and the strict penalties set for disobedience, it was possible. In fact, it was already done. All Starlight had to do now was make sure she looked pretty for her audience.

She took a few strides back, so that she could see herself entirely from her hooves to the top of her head. Her shoes were buffed and polished. Her coat was clean and vibrant. Her toga was free of stains or wrinkles. Her necklace was lustrous. Her head – face, mane, and crown – was completely flawless. Certainly a far cry from that dusty old mayor from that dusty old cottage.

As she admired her own reflection, she began to monologue in her mind. 'Ah, here I am, an alicorn… what? Princess? Queen? Empress? Those all sound good, but too generic. There are already plenty of princesses, queens, and empresses out there, and I want a revolutionary title to fit my new nation's revolutionary philosophy. So, President? No way in hell. Generalissimo? Nah. This is no military dictatorship, and certainly no backwater banana republic. How about… Premier? Yes. Premier Starlight Glimmer. Has a nice ring to it. Not a very impressive-sounding title, sure, but I know for absolute sure that I'll make it impressive in time, just because I will be the one using it.'

She took a last glance at herself. This alicorn premier was ready for her inaugural speech. With pride in her smile, a spring her step, and excitement tingling in her bones, she magically swung open her bedroom door and made the trek up to the palace's top floor, where the balcony stood, and Checkmate and Imperator waited for her. Checkmate told her that she had some entertainment up there to raise her spirits before the speech. Starlight looked forward to it.

Starlight came to the top floor lobby, where she saw the balcony overlooking an enormous crowd through a clear glass door, and a wooden door on the room's left side. On both sides of the balcony, a centaur stood facing the front, standing perfectly, eerily still. In the lobby, she saw a young unicorn mare, trembling where she stood and looking up to her with pleading purple eyes. She looked very much like Checkmate, except with a darker coat, and wearing a jester's silly striped and belled uniform. Beside this jester was Imperator, to the left, and Checkmate, to the right. As Checkmate whispered into the jester's ear with a malevolent smirk, Imperator stepped forward to greet her.

“Good evening, Starlight.”

Starlight smiled. “Hey.”

“So, how does it feel to make your first speech as a head of state?”

“It's a rush, that's for sure. I have an idea for my title as a head of state.”

“And what would that be?”

“Premier,” she said with a whimsical wave of the hoof.

“Sounds exotic. I like it.”

“I knew you would.” She turned her head to face the jester. “I take it this is my entertainment. So, what's your name, little filly?”

The jester made a timid look downward, and one corner of her mouth drew downward.

Imperator turned to face the jester and barked, “She asked for your name, you useless turd.” He lit his horn, and the jester suddenly collapsed on the ground with all her muscles spasming in unnatural tightness. She crashed down to the ground on her side and screamed in agony, her squirms ringing the bells on her costume. “You will tell her your name. Now.”

Imperator's horn stopped glowing. The jester's eyes welled with tears in the brief fit of sobbing that preceded her introduction. “M-my name is Bellatrix. I exist only to serve. I will be your entertainment for tonight. I-if I fail to meet your standards, p-please say so after the performance so that I may have my p-proper… *sniff*… p-punishment.”

Checkmate looked down to Bellatrix and gave her stomach a firm kick. “Get up.” As Bellatrix fumbled her way back up, Checkmate looked to Starlight with her trademark polite smile. “Don't worry. She won't be this way for long. Bellatrix knows better than to disobey her big sister.” She shifted her cold gaze to Bellatrix. “Doesn't she?” Once Bellatrix gave Checkmate a frantic, whimpering nod, Checkmate looked back to Starlight. “She's used to this treatment by now.”

“Oh, is she?”

“Of course, darling. Little sister has always been my favorite whipping post. Ever since we were fillies.”

Starlight chuckled. “So, I take it you have a fairly harsh punishment for her if she doesn't do a good enough job?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“Can you… tell me what it is, by chance?”

“Death.”

Starlight let out a hearty laugh. “That sounds like a pretty good incentive. But what about losing your favorite whipping post?”

“It's fine. I can always get another one. This way, she'll perform for you as if her life depended on it,” she said with a wink.

Imperator raised a hoof and gave Bellatrix's back a pat, which made Bellatrix flinch. “She will be doing a dramatic reading of a story loosely based on a true event: Hannibal the Cannibal's greatest exploit during Planetvoid's conquest of the Wasteland. In this one, he leads a tiny force of three-hundred of the Reich's finest warriors against a Changeling swarm numbering half a million.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “Half a million? I find that hard to believe.”

“My dear. Retellings of ancient history are almost always treated with slight embellishments. A Changeling recording of the event would probably put the numbers at somewhere around a thousand against fifty-thousand, if they even bothered to record it at all. Do not dwell too hard on the facts. It is entertainment, not a serious history lesson.”

“Alright, I won't. I don't see any book or paper with her, so I take it she's doing this from memory?”

“She is.”

“Then let's not waste any more time. I want all of us facing in front of Bellatrix, with you two beside me.”

“That does not sound bad to me.” Imperator looked to Checkmate. “How about you?”

Checkmate looked back to Imperator. “Not at all.”

Starlight watched as Imperator and Checkmate made soft steps forward, then whipped themselves around so they were facing the same way as her. Once it was done, Starlight shot a smug look at Bellatrix. “No more dilly-dallying, little filly. Get going. I'm expecting a particularly hammy performance, and I won't accept one teeny, tiny bit less.”

Bellatrix's drew a long, wavy sigh. After swallowing something in her mouth, presumably fear, she began performing her act.

The Changeling swarm which blocked the morning sun, turning day to night, threatened to descend upon Hannibal the Cannibal, Lord of Pain, and consume his host in its all-encompassing tidal wave to grind it to dust slowly, like a river to stone. Hannibal, greatest of warriors below only the Prophet, himself; was clad in a caped suit of red metal armor, which was forged in Tartarus from pure hatred manifest in physical form fused with the blood of demons, seared with such heat as to make iron melt to the touch, and menaced with spikes which could pierce the hearts of gods. Hannibal, he who made kings quake in fear at his very presence, he who so thoroughly ravaged the cities he conquered that none left alive were virgins, he who spilled enough blood in his lifetime to fill the world's vast seas; his reputation was matched only by the hubris of the Changeling queen, Obsidian, who dreamed only of sucking all passion and love out of all the world's hearts.

As the great Planetvoid, Nightmare of Nightmares, battled in the east with every warrior the Reich could muster against the the massive combined forces of the last Romulan dictator, Dux Titus Brutus Atroxus Tyrannus, and the legendary Saracen warlord, Ja'far al-Djinn; the Changeling queen thought this an opportune moment to add the Wasteland to her realm. But Planetvoid, in his wisdom, had sent Hannibal to face Obsidian south of the River Styx with three-hundred of the Reich's most accomplished fighters long before the swarm was expected to arrive. After sacrificing forty-seven foals to God on the altar of Wenn, Hannibal forded the river south, and along its banks erected himself a fortress from mud brick, which took seven weeks to build, and blessed it with a ward of hardiness, so that the queen could demolish it with neither bolts of lightning, nor projectiles of stone. To this fortress, he gave the name, “Brustworth”.

And once the eagle of the Reich soared atop the fortress' citadel, Hannibal stood up next to the banner with the wind blowing in his beard tied in many braids so that it looked like a nest of angry vipers. He looked upon the swarm in flight, which would arrive by dawn to storm the fortress. As his heart was cold as the mountain peaks, and his nerves were unmoving as the mountain rock, Hannibal felt neither fear nor doubt, but only joy at the thought of placing the queen's head atop a pike to be mounted atop a pyramid stacked from Changeling corpses.

Hannibal, in his booming voice which made the earth's very crust tremble, looked down upon his warriors and bellowed, “Come hither, ye glorious butchers! Heed my words.” And indeed, his warriors all gathered in rank and file in the rallying point on the open ground which the citadel faced, and looked up to him silently to heed his words. “Ye slaughterers, ye killers, ye lovers of mass graves. Is this not the finest of honors, to be chosen by the Prophet, himself, to write your own passages in the immortal pages of history with pens made from Changeling fangs? Is this not the pinnacle of our careers? Is this not a fine day to be alive?” In unison, Hannibal's warriors beat their chests three times with steel-clad hooves. “Those beasts. Those foul, disgusting, contemptible animals. They number five hundred thousand, and descend upon us like a plague of locusts. And yet, they are lower than locusts, as at least locusts are not so haughty as to throw themselves upon such fine killers as us! Truly, the only good bug is a dead bug.” Again, thrice, they beat their chests. “Around us are walls erected from brick. In front of you stands a keep erected from brick. Notice their colors of brown, dull, rough, unpainted, hardly distinguishable from the Wasteland, itself. Throughout the course of this battle, it will be coated with a green pigment most vibrant: Changeling blood. And you are the artists who will paint it!” Again, three times, they beat their chests. “And that impudent whelp – the so-called queen, Obsidian – I will personally rend her stupid head from her body with my ax!” Again, they beat their chests. “But as she is a coward, despicable and worthless, I do not expect her to come to me. And so, I call upon every ten of you to choose among yourselves a champion who will accompany me in cutting through the swarm so that I may slay the queen. These champions should be the most ruthless, the most skilled, the most disciplined among you. They should have the hardiest muscle, the fastest reflexes, and unwavering stamina. They should have war-cries which make dragons freeze in horror, stomachs which hunger for the screams of the suffering, and gazes which tear souls to ribbons. This will be my retinue – my First Cohort – and they will see that the swarm scatters and scurries back to their hive once they see their queen reduced to a pile of quivering flesh. To victory, my brothers! To victory, and a bloody day!”

As if of one mind, Hannibal's warriors extended their right forehooves in the Reich's salute, and chanted, “Hail victory! Hail victory! Hail victory!”

As Hannibal waited in the empty keep, he took a towel of fine white silk dipped in blood-oil, and with it, he polished Knulla Mördare, his ax who was molded in a dark universe by unthinkable horrors that would make any mere mortal drop dead at even the faintest glimpse of them; whose thirty pound head was wrought with existence's decayed, mangled soul; whose handle was laced with vessels that pulsed with alicorns' boiling ichor, and hewn from the spine of Tirek's slain grandfather. And once the head of Knulla Mördare shined so that Hannibal could see his own eyes reflected upon her, his thirty champions emerged from the keep's entrance, draped in red capes. They stood in three ranks of ten, and the largest of them, Mauler No-Jaw, emerged from the front rank and spoke.

“Sir. Your champions stand by for your command.” He saluted the Lord of Pain.

And Hannibal said unto them, “So, you are my champions. I have plans for you. We will leave the rest of the warriors here in Brustworth as we go to the queen. The details will come later. Now, remember this creed, as it will carry us to victory: 'We are the most ruthless, the most skilled, the most disciplined soldiers on the face of the planet. We have the hardiest muscle, the fastest reflexes, and unwavering stamina. We have war-cries which make dragons freeze in horror, stomachs which hunger for the screams of the suffering, and gazes which tear souls to ribbons. We are the reapers of the Reich – the First Cohort. There is no foe we cannot defeat. There is no land we cannot conquer. There is no wall we cannot tear asunder. We are strong. We are legion. We do not die – we are death!' Memorize this creed, and keep it in mind as we tear through the swarm. This creed will be the creed of the Reich's elites for the rest of time. Now, recite the oath.”

The thirty champions, as one, held their right hooves across their chests and recited the oath: “We are the most ruthless, the most skilled, the most disciplined soldiers on the face of the planet. We have the hardiest muscle, the fastest reflexes, and unwavering stamina. We have war-cries which make dragons freeze in horror, stomachs which hunger for the screams of the suffering, and gazes which tear souls to ribbons. We are the reapers of the Reich – the First Cohort. There is no foe we cannot defeat. There is no land we cannot conquer. There is no wall we cannot tear asunder. We are strong. We are legion. We do not die – we are death!”

From behind the hill to the southwest, Hannibal witnessed as the swarm was cut down one by one  atop the walls of Brustworth, and the Changeling queen watching from behind, protected by a bodyguard, numbering forty thousand, born from the Changeling caste of soldiers which made up the elite body of the Changeling army. Behind Hannibal stood his champions, and next to him stood Mauler, who looked to him and nodded. When Hannibal climbed to the top of the hill, his champions stood to his sides, fifteen to his right and fifteen to his left, with a quarter mile of space between them. With his magic, he withdrew Knulla Mördare from the strap that held her to his side, and as he held her up to the setting sun, he bellowed, “CRUSH THEM! KILL THEM! CUT THEM OPEN!”

Then, to the singing of a choir of Valkyries, Hannibal and his champions charged down from the hill towards the queen, catching her and her bodyguard off guard as their ranks were cut through like a diamond blade through gelatin. In this battle, Knulla Mördare earned seven-thousand-seven-hundred-seventy-seven more kills to her name in a green mist of Changeling blood and guts. Both she and her wielder relished the shrieks and cries of the queen's guards as they were eviscerated in a gory spectacle that pleased God, letting the copper-like stench of their open insectoid innards lift their spirits.

Once seeing nine-tenths of her bodyguard destroyed, Queen Obsidian opened her feeble bug-wings and took flight. But Hannibal was not fully pleased. He spat down on the ground. His grimace showed his utter contempt for this worthless bug queen who refused him a worthy fight. He then shouted, “DIE, YOU CUR!” and with his magic, he threw Knulla Mördare directly at the Changeling queen, sending the ax spinning in the air with the speed of a sprinting jaguar. For seventy-seven yards, Knulla Mördare soared, until her edge met with the Changeling queen's neck, decapitating the queen and sending both parts plummeting down to the ground before turning around to return to Hannibal.

The shock of the queen's death shattered the swarm's resolve, and the few Changelings that survived fled the field, leaving the bodies of their fallen kin piled around the walls of the fortress of Brustworth in the hundreds of thousands. Hannibal looked upon the queen's falling headless body, its severed neck now a pretty fountain of blood for him to smile at, a serene reward for a job well done.

In this battle, which was henceforth known to history as the Brustworth Massacre, not a single one of Hannibal's warriors died even as two thirds of the Changeling swarm laid dead before them. All but a hundred of the Changeling corpses were stacked atop each other in a pyramid that scraped the heavens, and its tip was adorned with the black head of the wicked and vile Queen Obsidian, which was stuck onto a pike. The remaining hundred, which were hoof-picked by Hannibal, were butchered by the Reich's finest butchers, treated with salt and herbs, smoked into jerky, and preserved in steel chests made airtight by magic; they would be a favorite snack of Hannibal's for the rest of his living days. Upon returning to Planetvoid north of the river, Hannibal was canonized as a saint, and rewarded with the Reich's very first Medal of Honor, which remains the Empire's most prestigious military award to this very day.

Starlight looked at Imperator with a wide smile, so blown back was she by how over-the-top the performance was on every level, from its content to its execution. After indulging herself in a bout of laughter, she said, “That was some story. Did you pick that one out for me?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Well, you picked very nicely. Just, um, how much of that was exaggerated, anyway?”

“Besides the clear artistic license taken with certain elements that I am sure you can infer for yourself, surprisingly little.”

“Seemed to me like the author of that story went out of his way to make everything sound cool.”

“Did it work?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. It worked. But literally everyone and everything in that story was flagrantly, unapologetically evil. Doesn't Wasteland history have any… you know… heroic or good figures?”

“In Wasteland terms, words like 'good' and 'heroic' mean whatever one wants them to mean. But in Equestrian terms, no, I am afraid not.” He looked to Checkmate. “Do you recall any figures that Starlight might consider heroic?”

“No,” Checkmate replied, “none that I remember.”

Starlight looked to Checkmate. “Why not?”

“This place has been Equestria's dumping ground for unsavory ponies for millenia. What else would you expect?

“Well, why don't we ever see Wastelanders in Equestria if Equestria is so clearly better?”

“Several reasons,” Imperator replied. “A Wastelander would have to trek the outermost fringes of the Wasteland for months, maybe even years to find even a small Equestrian settlement. Which makes me wonder how so many Equestrians make it over here, but I digress.”

“By train. I told you about trains, right?”

“You did. But why they would bother building railways to this place is even more baffling.”

Starlight chuckled. “Yeah, I don't get it either. Just one of those things, I guess.”

“Well, anyway. Even if they could manage that much, what are the chances of any Wastelander properly integrating into Equestrian society? The Equestrian is notoriously bigoted and arrogant for how much better off his society is from all others. Not too different from the Imperial in that respect.

“All this, and only if the Wastelander has enough confidence in the stories to put himself through all that. The environment of trust and friendliness that Equestria provides makes the Equestrian liable to put trust in things that he should not, but the distrust and hostility of the Wasteland protects the Wastelander from this even when it means he also mistrusts some things he would be better off trusting.”

“Oh, okay, I get it now. But you know, I wasn't banished here or anything.”

Checkmate shot Starlight a quizzical look. “Then why did you come here?”

“I wanted a remote, secluded place to build Our Town to keep the meddlers away. It didn't work, but that's another story. Anyway, the Wasteland was about the most remote and secluded place I could think of, so that's where I decided to put it. I hadn't even the slightest clue that it already had civilization, and I certainly didn't know that this civilization was such complete crap.”

“Well,” Imperator said, “when I had first introduced you to the harshness of the Wasteland, I was deeply surprised at how well you took it. I had figured you would have reacted in the same way as… whoever that simpleton was who we replaced with Sucker Pop. I do not remember his name.” He put a hoof on Starlight's back and started to rub it. “In any case, that was my first hint that you were something truly special. Put here by the Eldritch, itself, to change the course of history in a profound way.”

“Wait. The Eldritch?”

Imperator took his hoof off Starlight and set it back down. “You Equestrians know it as Destiny.”

“Oh. I see.”

He turned his head back towards the glass door, looking through it for a moment before looking back to Starlight. “It is almost time for your speech. Now, please tell me. Was the jester's performance good enough for me to spare her life?”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment. “You know what? Sure. It was good enough.”

Imperator turned his head to Bellatrix. “You are a lucky one. Did you hear that, child? You were good enough for her. You know what that means, correct?”

Bellatrix looked up to Imperator with a smile and eyes dripping with tears, and nodded so strongly that her face was a blur.

“Very good.” He rubbed the top of her head through her hat; the hat's bells jingled with the movement. “Now, run along, little one. Gestures of kindness from Miss Glimmer are not to be taken lightly.”

Now quivering with joy instead of fear, Bellatrix looked into Starlight's eyes, mouthing a silent 'thank you' before running off, exiting down the stairway from which Starlight entered.

“Anything else before we go?” Starlight asked.

“Yes,” Imperator replied, “one more thing.” He looked to the left. “Slave. Come. You may see your mother now.”

Starlight and Checkmate also looked left, and they heard excited galloping echoing from behind the door, which was soon burst open by an excited young earth pony mare with a cocked eye. It was Sucker Pop, whose mouth was covered by a light paper muzzle, presumably to keep spittle from getting on anything important.

Sucker Pop looked to Starlight with eyes bulging with excitement and shouted, “Mommy!” Starlight stood still while Sucker Pop bolted to her, then latched herself onto her in a hug as tight as only an earth pony who loved her mom could hug.

Starlight rubbed Sucker Pop's back. “Hi, sweetie! You're here to hear mommy speak?”

“Yeah, yeah! I wanna hew mommy speak! Mommy speak few woving cwowd!”

“Well, you'll get to right now.” Starlight nudged Sucker Pop off her, then turned to the glass door in front of the balcony. “Follow me, everyone. My adoring public awaits.”

After taking a deep breath, she opened the door with magic, and she walked up to the balcony with slow, leisurely strides, with Imperator, Checkmate, and Sucker Pop following her. It was then that she could get a better look at the crowd in the square illuminated by oil-fueled lamps. The audience was assembled in perfect ranks that filled the palace square and was surrounded on all sides by stone centaurs, and crimson banners, which bore at each of their centers a bold yellow equal mark circumscribed by thorny branches. Starlight was made breathless by the joy and excitement.

In the very back of the crowd was an orchestra, which had assembled with it percussion, woodwind, and brass instruments of various sorts, ready to play powerful music at a moment's notice.

The crowd all wore familiar grins. Those exaggeratedly wide and toothy grins were exactly the kind that Starlight's followers in Our Town wore.  It was nearly perfect, but there was only one flaw – they still had their cutie marks. This one, single flaw would have annoyed her to no end were it not so easy to fix.

Imperator stood at her left, Checkmate at her right, and Sucker Pop standing in a back corner. Imperator looked down to shout at the crowd. “You are all assembled here to witness Premier Starlight Glimmer's first inaugural speech. This is a highly exclusive and prestigious privilege that we have given you, and I will not have it abused in any way. There will be no heckling, no interruptions, no littering, no speaking amongst yourselves, and no exiting the square without the express permission of your assigned Centurion. You will maintain full eye contact with your Premier, and you will retain your mandatory facial expressions. You will applaud when I tell you to applaud, and you will continue to applaud until I tell you otherwise. And when I tell you to kneel, you will kneel. All violators of these simple rules will be crucified. No exceptions. We will have order, and we will have your full, undivided attention. We will accept nothing different.”

Starlight shifted her gaze to Imperator and whispered, “You know me so well.”

“There is one last thing to deal with.”

“Oh, of course! The Cutie Un-marking! It's a really beautiful thing, you know. Observe…” Starlight put a hefty sum of energy into her glowing horn that illuminated every face in the crowd with its greenish-blue hue. Then, she let the energy boom into the air in a burst that stretched throughout the city limits, and almost every cutie mark in Starlightopolis launched up into the dim evening sky and left behind them trails of light as they soared, like comets in space, southwestward to the Cutie Mark Vault a long distance away. Even Checkmate, usually so cool and stoic, couldn't help but mutter to herself as she stared awestruck at the sight of millions of cutie marks leaving their hosts at once reflecting in her eyes.

“You are right,” Imperator said, “it is a very beautiful thing.” He paused. “Almost as beautiful as its creator.”

Starlight slipped a hoof underneath her hair and flicked it in the wind. “I am beautiful, aren't I?”

“After your transformation, yes. Alicornhood suits you well. Now, no more stalling.” He motioned to the audience. “Speak to them.”

“Alright. Here goes.” She cleared her throat, then took a very deep breath. She had to be loud and clear for the crowd to hear her, after all. “Friends. Compatriots. Citizens all. I come to liberate, not to conquer! By my own hoof, I have broken the Imperial bond of servitude that had kept you poor and downtrodden for so long. You will no longer be subject to the whims of a Kaiser who openly hates and despises you. And you will no longer be under threat of persecution by brutish thugs and greedy robber barons who long to steal what little you already own. Whatever you were before – be it slave, laborer, beggar, or cutpurse – you may now consider yourself in charge of your own fate, under my wise and compassionate leadership.”

Starlight stopped, and gave a slight nod to Imperator, who then barked to the audience, “Applaud.” In unison, every single crowd member hit her right forehoof on the ground, not once breaking eye contact with Starlight, and never letting her smile recede even a little. Once she was satisfied, Starlight nodded to Imperator again, and he barked, “Hold your applause.” Again in unison, the audience stopped, and awaited the rest of Starlight's speech.

She continued. “To any here who were once slaves: You will no longer be held down, chained to some master who calls you his property. I give to you the keys to your own freedom. You may now seek education, housing, and free employment, so that your fate is in your own control. And to those unfortunate enough to have had their own minds and personalities robbed from them by the ghoulish, horrific, inhumane practice of lobotomization: Rest assured that I will personally see to it that you are given proper treatment.

“To those of you who are mares or fillies: You will no longer be forced to be escorted everywhere you go by stallions. You will no longer be barred from any meaningful place in society. You will no longer be assumed to be useless on the sole basis of your sex. If you ever dreamed of being something you couldn't because of your sex, now you can follow your dream, as mares and stallions will now be on a completely level playing field.

“To those of you who were forced into a life of crime against your wills: You will not be ignored. We will work diligently to ensure that any addictions you may be wrought with are treated, the circulation of any and all harmful substances that cause such addictions is ceased, and opportunities for you to become a decent, productive, law-abiding citizen are made plentiful. Rehabilitation will be one of our golden words. Those who accept it will be treated with compassion. Those who do not will be dealt with accordingly.

“To those of you who have had to live your lives without shelter: The day will soon come when you are guaranteed a roof over your head, and a warm fireplace to stock with wood. Housing will be provided to you with money snatched from the cold, dead hooves of your old oppressors, and employment will ensure that you may live on a generous, steady income.”

She nodded to Imperator again, and again, they applauded when ordered, then stopped applauding when ordered.

Starlight continued. “I have come to usher in a new age. A new age of prosperity, security, and equality.

“You will no longer be forced to huddle under wooden shacks or mud huts for shelter. The vast sums of wealth that have been squeezed and wrung out of you and your families for generations by your old masters will be used to build houses, industry, and public services for your common good. You may sleep comfortably in warm bedrooms, travel to work in clean and safe public roads, then come back home to fill your bellies on hearty dinners. There will be jobs aplenty, as your generous Premier will work diligently to ensure that there is not a single one of you without work. In as little as twenty years, with economic growth guided by carefully engineered plans stretching five year intervals, wealth will flow throughout the Wasteland in unseen measure, and this wealth will be shared by all who participate. Be assured that your loyalty will not go unrewarded.

“The arms that were once used to oppress you will now be used to protect you, from threats without and within the Wasteland. From without, you will no longer need to fear the Saracen, the Changeling, the Griffin, the Equestrian, nor any other foreign power that you may have once feared. War will no longer be waged on the whims of bloodthirsty warmongers who would have fathers, husbands, and sons killed in mass droves for their own selfish gain. We will be cordial with those who wish for peace, and protect ourselves from those who wish us harm. From within, you will no longer need to fear the thief, the rapist, the murderer, nor the insincere demagogue. You will be safe, and find comfort in the knowledge that extensive and well-trained police forces will snuff out crime wherever it may rear its head, and will brush away those who would abuse your innermost virtues with vile sophistries in an effort to exploit a failed system. Such sophistries will be banned! Outlawed! Erased from the public memory! So that the good and decent citizen may live freely and happily without ever having to worry about such matters.

“And most importantly, you will no longer be subject to those who would call themselves your superior out of sheer birthright. With the cutie mark now a thing of the past, and with class-based nepotism now abolished, you will find within yourself a sense of liberty never before possible. You will no longer be forced to look around you and feel inadequate in the face of those who claim to be better than you. You will no longer feel that your efforts are unappreciated, and you will no longer suffer scorn for your failures. Instead, you will find freedom in committing yourself to a higher ideal. You will become one with your fellow good citizens, and once you are driven by a unifying purpose, you will become great by becoming a part of something great.”

Starlight gave Imperator another nod. Like trained dogs, the audience acquiesced to his commands. A rush of joy pulsed through Starlight at this moment. She didn't even have this much power over Our Town's citizens during her speeches to them; they were loyal and obedient to her implicitly, and there were far less of them. This was certainly something she could get used to.

She concluded, “So, my friends, do not fret! Change is good. You must find within yourself the ability to transcend from the base individualism that has been the cause of your misery for so long, and I will help you through every step of the way, as your strong, enlightened alicorn sovereign who will rule the Wasteland for ten-thousand years… and then, until the end of time! And as long as I rule, the harvests will always be plentiful, the water will always be clean, and the streets will always be safe and filled with cheer. Long live equality! Long live our collective singular purpose! Long live the Commonwealth!”

One last time, she nodded to Imperator. One last time, Imperator barked, “Applaud.”

They began their applause, this time with prodigious vigor. Starlight got the sense that this applause was genuine. She took time to drink in the moment, until she was ready for the cherry on top of her dessert. She shot a smug look to Imperator, and dipped her head down slightly.

He commanded to the audience, “Kneel,” and all at once, the audience bowed down to Starlight, with such submissive depth that their foreheads hung centimeters from the ground.

Starlight lifted her head back upright, and examined the audience. Not a single one of them refused to bow. In her final assertion of dominance, she puffed out her chest, and spread her large, majestic wings, casting her imposing shadow down on her crowd. Once satisfied, she folded her wings back in, then nodded to Checkmate.

Checkmate, after nodding back to Starlight, waved to the orchestra in the rear of the crowd. Then, once the orchestra began to play their instruments, music of immense power and volume boomed from the orchestra, echoing throughout the entire city. It was an instrumental of the song that she, herself, had written for Our Town. There were no lyrics being sung, but this was understandable. Getting this orchestral epic down to pat in a few days was probably hard enough without having to deal with retooling lyrics and getting a choir ready alongside it. It took as long for this band to play her song as it would have for her to sing it, as it matched her song note for note. Throughout the song's runtime, Starlight slightly bobbed her head side to side and hummed the tune to herself, until it was finished. Starlight was the happiest she'd ever been in her whole life.

Imperator spoke again to the audience. “That concludes Premier Starlight Glimmer's inauguration ceremony. You will now return to your living quarters in an orderly fashion, just as you have rehearsed. Go, and learn to love the new future that we are building.”

Starlight watched as the crowd, in unison, make an about-face towards the exit, then peel away from the center line by line, making two continuous single-file lines marching beside each other down the road in front of them. She admired the orderliness, the obedience, the discipline.

After some few quiet moments, Imperator said to Starlight, “So, did you enjoy your ceremony?”

“I did. It was really wonderful. Thank you so much for that.”

He nodded. “Not a problem.” He looked to Checkmate. “Miss Master, would you mind escorting the slave to her proper living quarters? I would like to speak privately with Miss Glimmer.”

Checkmate chuckled. “Sure thing, hotshot.” Once she turned around, she motioned Sucker Pop to follow her. She eased the glass door open, and once she and Sucker Pop were on the other side, she eased it shut.

Starlight watched the two walk out of the room, then looked back to Imperator. “So, what was it you wanted to say to me privately?”

“These past few days. While I was getting the city prepared for you. You were training on your own, weren't you?”

She nodded. “I was. Extensively. How could you tell?”

“A Centurion can tell these things. I am not surprised. You have always been an excellent self-motivator.”

“You know, given the circumstances, motivation isn't that hard to come by.”

“Regardless. There is one final surprise I have waiting for you. I was going to wait until you were ready, but I think you are ready now.”

She sighed. “Please. No more surprises. Not tonight. I've had enough already.”

“Of course.” He paused. “Would you mind staying here with me for a while? To watch the marks in the sky.”

“Not at all.”

Imperator turned his head to face upwards, with Starlight shortly following. The enormous cluster of cutie marks in the sky glistened like a bluish-green sun, next to the moon and amongst the stars. It was a long way to the Vault, and the cluster gradually shrunk in the air as they flew further away from the city.

Starlight figured this would be the best time to spring a surprise of her own on Imperator. The song that Ebony had taught her a few days prior. She drew in a long breath, brought her head up to face Imperator with a smile, and began to sing. “Crusader, Crusader, please take me with you. The battle lies far to the north. Crusader, Crusader, don't leave me alone. I want to ride out on your quest.”

Imperator took a couple steps away from her and snapped his gaze at her. “Where did you learn that song?”

Starlight pulled her head back, with her eyes wide and her smile gone, jolted by his harsh reaction. “I learned it from one of Luna's guards. Why? Do you want me to stop?”

He hesitated. “That song. That is not a song that I have heard since…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Do I want you to stop?” He chuckled, walked up close to her, then wrapped a hoof around her waist and pulled her into his chest in a tight squeeze. “You are a resourceful, clever, visionary, dedicated, charming, talented young mare. And I love you dearly for it.”

“Aww.” She smiled and held her head against his neck, rubbing her cheek against it, feeling its warmth on her face. “I love you, too!”

After keeping her embraced for a while, he released her. “Do continue your song,” he said.

With renewed confidence, she looked up to him and resumed singing. “I'm waiting, I'm waiting, to stand by your side; to fight with you over the sea. They're calling, they're calling, I have to be there. The holy land has to be free.” She leaned herself against him. He stood like a wall of brick; his armor warmed her through her toga. “Fight the good fight. Believe what is right. Crusader, the Lord of the Reich. Fight the good fight; with all your might. Crusader, the Lord of the Reich.”

Chapter 22

“So,” Imperator said to the saddlebag-wearing pink pegasus stallion in front of him, in the Starlightopolis palace lobby, “you are the new envoy that Elder Big Rat has given us.”

“I am,” he replied, “and I have the scout reports for you here, just as Starlight Glimmer requested.”

Imperator looked to Starlight and Checkmate, who stood together behind him. “Did you hear that? Our scout reports have arrived.”

“Took them long enough,” Starlight said.

“I'm just surprised you have the Brotherhood working for you in the first place,” Checkmate added.

Starlight looked over to the pink stallion. “Do you know what happened to Bright, by any chance?”

“Afraid not,” he replied. “We've had no word of or from him since he went to negotiate your terms with the Legate. The Elder has officially declared him 'missing in action'. Likely dead, possibly enslaved.”

“But what about the thorny branches?”

“Snakefang is rather iffy with parlay, it seems.”

“Hm. That's a shame. I kinda liked Bright. So, who would you be?”

The pink pegasus stroked his curly red mane. “I am Red Velvet. From Kov.” He looked to Imperator. “Along with the scout reports, I also have a letter bearing the seal of the Equestrian head of state.”

Imperator replied, “The Equestrian head of state… you would not mean Celestia, would you?”

“I would. It's addressed to Starlight. Technically, the scout reports are also addressed to Starlight, but we all know you'll be the one using those.”

“I see.” He lit his horn, and after opening the saddlebags, he lifted two papers, both folded and sealed. One was sealed with the Elder's snarling rat, and the other was sealed with the image of a sun shining over an apple orchard. “Move along now, Mister Velvet. Keep us updated on future reports.”

Starlight watched as Red Velvet, without a word, nudged himself through the palace doors, letting them shut behind him when he was through. Then, she looked at the folded letter in front of her. Once the letters were levitating in place, Starlight took Celestia's letter with her magical grip, and pulled it towards her.  She knew that this was, indeed, Celestia's seal. The scent emanating from the paper struck her. It was the smell of decomposing flesh. It made Starlight raise an eyebrow.

Checkmate tapped Starlight in her side. “Go on. Read it. It must be important.”

“Alright,” replied Starlight. First, she peeled off the seal, then she unfolded the letter. She was treated to a block of messy, erratic handwriting, etched on a paper dotted with stains of coffee and cake frosting. It read:

Starlight's eyes widened, and she pulled her head back with her teeth grimaced in a cringe. 'Good god,' Starlight thought, 'she's gone completely bonkers.' Just then, she noticed another block of text directly below it. This one was more cleanly written. It read:

P.S. (From Princess Cadence) Luna and I thought it would be best to show you Princess Celestia's mental state firsthand. This is just the latest of many letters she has tried to send, to you and to many others. They all are pretty much the same, but they have been getting more incomprehensible and paranoiac with each one she writes. You should know how badly all this is affecting her sanity. Please, take pity on her. She's ruled in peace for millenia; change does not sit well with her. Surely, even you are not so heartless as to ignore this level of suffering. All of Equestria loves her, and seeing her in this state saddens us all deeply. I am trying my best to mitigate the damage that her illness causes to the realm, since Luna is busy leading our forces in war. Please do not force us to take more drastic measures. I fear the death of Celestia would mark the beginning of a second Ice Age.

Starlight looked to Checkmate with pursed lips, and discomfort in her eyes.

“What's wrong?” Checkmate asked.

“Ugh. What isn't wrong? You have to read this!” Starlight exchanged magical grips on the letter with Checkmate, who began examining the letter. As her gaze drew down the paper, she remained cool and inexpressive. But, about three quarters of the way to the end, her eyebrows shot up. Checkmate eventually finished reading, and she looked back to Starlight with a slight cringe.

“What happened?” Checkmate asked.

Starlight hesitated. “Well, we kind of… sort of… sent her Princess Twilight's charred corpse with a forged letter of provocation from the Kaiser to get her help in our war.”

Checkmate let out an airy chuckle. “That is completely and utterly deplorable. Even by Wasteland standards.” She chuckled. "I love it."

“Yeah, I expected her to take it hard, but not this hard!” Starlight's voice was becoming distressed. “Oh god, what did we do?”

Imperator turned around and walked up to Checkmate and Starlight. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I don't know! I got this letter from Princess Celestia, and… and it's all one big word salad. I can hardly understand it.”

“Let me see…” He exchanged magical grips on the letter with Checkmate, and took a quick scan of it before looking back to Starlight. “I recognize this sort of language handicap. The technical term is, indeed, word salad. It is caused by deep psychosis, often found in discount slaves, caused by botched lobotomies.”

“So, you can decipher it?”

“Not with complete accuracy, no. But back in the day, I did serve some time stationed as a guard at a slave holding chamber, and I did gain a modicum of skill in deciphering confused language in that time. And this letter is not entirely unintelligible.”

Starlight let out a huff. “Go on, then. Read it.”

Imperator locked his gaze on the paper to read it more thoroughly. “Hmm. It seems that the Princess believes that you were taken under Twilight Sparkle's wing as a student of friendship.”

Starlight rolled her eyes and scowled. “That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Seriously. What kind of idiot would even think of that crap, let alone write it?”

He continued reading. “It seems that her sister told her that she was insane. It also seems that she is having hallucinations concerning a friendly version of the ancient chaos god, Discord, which serves to affirm her delusions, so Luna's testimony is probably for naught.” He paused. “She comforts herself by gorging herself on sweet pastries, but is afraid that Luna might be poisoning it.” He looked to Starlight. “Perhaps she is somewhat suicidal. She would otherwise be avoiding cake if she feared it was poisonous, would she not?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Keep going.”

He continued. “She seems to have developed an irrational fear of dresser drawers. Considers them harborers of demons. She claims to have banished them from the kingdom, considering bags to be the better substitute. Apparently, she believes that placing a bag over her head protects her from demonic possession.” He read more. “She murdered her favorite castle guard, probably with her royal scepter, having either mistaken him for a demon or believed that he was possessed by a demon. Either way, I can only imagine the grief adding to her psychosis.” He read more still. “Luna told her that you were possessed by a demon.”

Starlight shook her head. “Probably in an attempt to convince her that I'm a bad mare.”

“Likely.” He continued. “She somehow got the idea that clean white socks help ward off demons.”

“Well,” Checkmate said with a smile, “they certainly help my hooves stay nice and warm. Maybe she's not completely insane.”

He kept reading. “Her guards have told her of her paranoia. She has taken this as evidence that her guards are conspiring against her, with Luna as the head of their plot. She also suspects Luna of being possessed by demons.” He paused. “She is asking you for advice on how to deal with the situation, as since you are Twilight Sparkle's student of friendship, you are the most well-equipped to help her.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Friendship will ward off the demons. And who better to wield the power of friendship than a brand-new student of it with a teacher who's barely out of school, herself? Excellent plan. Foolproof.” She paused. “Keep going.”

“Hmm. I think you will take a liking to this one, Starlight.”

“What?”

“It seems that Celestia has taken in Princess Twilight as her bedtime cuddling partner, going so far as to give her kisses. Whether or not those kisses are platonic, I cannot guess.”

One corner of Starlight's mouth tensed up. “But wait. Twilight's dead.”

“That has clearly not been a deterrent.” He continued. “She has grown accustomed to, perhaps even fond of the corpse's stench, as she believes it to be a repellent to demons. She also cries regularly, and uses the corpse to soak her tears. Interestingly, although she hallucinates speech from Twilight, it is incomprehensible to her, but she does understand some things.”

“Like what?” Starlight asked.

“Apparently, Twilight forgives you for something you did. What that something is, I cannot guess. She also says that Twilight wants to come see you again, and lay in Celestia's bed with her.”

Starlight tried to purge the mental image of herself sleeping in a filth-ridden bed with a charred, rotten alicorn corpse.

Imperator concluded, “Well, Starlight, Checkmate. Celestia is, indeed, mad. I am sure this revelation comes as a complete shock to you.”

“Yeah. Shocker.”

“Cadence seems to be attempting to put it under control, so I do not see why you are so concerned.”

“I don't know. I just feel like I should be concerned. We're supposed to be trading partners with them. If Celestia steps off the throne, then Luna's going to take her place, and I'm not sure if she'll let us trade as freely, if at all.”

Checkmate looked to Starlight. “You can try trading with them by proxy.”

“What do you mean?” Starlight asked.

“If you can't buy directly from Equestrian merchants, then you can tell merchants from other places to buy Equestrian merchandise, then sell it back to you. You'll have to pay quite a bit more money, sure, but it's not the end of the world.”

“But I also wanted to import skilled labor.”

“Darling. Surely, Equestria isn't the only industrial country out there.”

“Yeah, I guess not. But it is the only one with skilled labor in sufficient quantity.”

“Give a mare an apple, you'll feed her for a day. Teach a mare to grow an orchard…”

“Hm.” Starlight put a hoof to her chin, thinking about it for a moment. “So, you're saying I only need to get a few of them so they can teach the Wastelanders, themselves, these skills?”

Checkmate smiled, then nodded.

“Additionally,” Imperator added, “Cadence should keep Celestia tied to the throne just long enough for us to take what we need while still keeping things relatively stable. We may not even have to trade by proxy. And the weakened leadership will just make it easier for us to betray them if such a course of action should prove beneficial. Really, Celestia's descent into madness is a good thing, is it not?”

Starlight drew her gaze to the side, conflicted over whether she should be worried or not. But Checkmate and Imperator both made good points. And Celestia probably deserved it, too. It was her fault for not keeping her brash, young, hot-blooded vassal on a tighter leash. Celestia should have seen this one coming.

With her mind made up, she looked up to Imperator with certainty in her eyes, and confidence in her smile. “You know what? You're right. To hell with her. I don't know what I was thinking! Getting all worked up over something like that.”

Imperator lifted a hoof and caressed Starlight's cheek. “Ah, there is the Starlight we all know and love! You had me worried there for a moment. I was starting to think you were losing your resolve.”

“Nope.” She leaned her head against his hoof and laid one of her own over it. “I'm still your favorite mare, and I'm still fully committed to equality.”

“That is what I like to hear. Do you want to see that last surprise I saved for you now?”

“I do.”

“Very good.” Imperator slid his hoof off Starlight's cheek and set it back down. “Our scouts report that the Empire has begun its assault on Brustworth Bridge. Speed is of the essence, but it is imperative that you see this before we go. I think it will help you greatly in your fight against the Legate.”

“Well, then. Lead the way.”

A biting chill loomed in the air as a full moon cast its light down from the nighttime sky. On the wooden deck of the Dodger Young, the black flagship zeppelin of the all-pegasus Equestrian Mobile Infantry, Private Rainbow Dash stood at attention with her squad, led by Sergeant Lightning Dust, and the rest of her company, to hear the briefing of Major Hurricane Blitzer for today's mission. The Major stood over his company on a platform, under bright fluorescent lights swinging from loose rubber-coated wires, with a topographic map standing on a trifold board and marked in the middle with a red X.

“Attention, company,” the Major ordered. “As you may have already been told, we're here to do one thing, and one thing only: kill Legate Snakefang Gelder. This primary objective comes all the way up from Luna, herself, and you will dedicate your lives to it. Now, you may be asking yourself: 'Why kill the Legate?' The best answer is because I told you to. But some of you won't be content with that, so I'll tell you why Luna wants us to kill him.

“Intelligence tells us that Snakefang has been the Empire's top Legate for over thirty years, and has held the rank of Legate for forty. He is one-hundred-twenty-seven years old. That might seem fanciful to you, but that's a typical age for an Imperial Legate. These are some dangerous folks, born and bred exclusively for war, with decades of experience being the norm rather than the exception. They're big. They're highly resistant to pain. They have razor-sharp sight and hearing. They're super-strong, and super-tough. They have absolutely no qualms about killing – they actually enjoy it, in fact – and are immune to combat fatigue. And as a unicorn-only race, they have extremely potent magic that they use almost exclusively for combat. Don't even think about engaging one unless you outnumber him ten to one.

“All this is why Luna would rather fight them directly as little as possible. Snakefang commands his forces with fear and terror. But more importantly, Snakefang is the Kaiser's uncle, and resides in the same familial house as him. Having Snakefang defeated by us 'lowly' Equestrians will reflect poorly on the Kaiser, perhaps even prompting his own personal bodyguard to murder him. This, too, may seem fanciful to you, but it is standard procedure in the Empire. However, even if this does not happen, Snakefang's death will weaken their morale, and leave them confused until they find a replacement for him. Just long enough for Luna and her ally in the east to give them a good double whammy.

“So you know the importance of this mission. Now, Snakefang has just left the city of Benn after a meeting with the Kaiser, and is now heading back to his camp to prepare for his own attack tomorrow morning. He's all alone. Wants to stay mobile and inconspicuous. But it was a foolish decision. We'll have him surrounded by our whole company, four whole platoons, ambushing him from all directions.

“We will be attacking in three waves. One squad from each platoon will attack before the other. Now, I want First Lieutenant Fast Bolt to hide behind this hill here.” He tapped a place on his map. “First Lieutenant Wind Whistler will take the hill north of Fast Bolt's. First Lieutenants Thunderlane and Flitter will take this hill and this hill, respectively.” He tapped two places on his map. “Thunderlane is with me.” Lt. Thunderlane led the platoon to which Sgt. Lightning Dust and Pvt. Rainbow Dash were assigned. “You will notice that these four hills conveniently look over the point on the road here from four sides.” He pointed to the red X. “On my signal, I want every First Lieutenant to send a squad against the Legate. If you ever get discouraged by seeing more of ours fall than theirs, then just remember: If one legionary dies for every ten of us, we'll do fine. Now, are there any questions from my Lieutenants?” There was silence. “Then consider yourselves dismissed. You have ten minutes to get everything prepared before we move out. I suggest going light on the armor. His blasts will easily punch through even our heaviest gear, but they won't punch through anything they don't hit.”

Some time later, Rainbow Dash and all the rest of Thunderlane's platoon were huddled in an assortment of foxholes, dug hastily with shovels held with teeth, underneath beige cloth blankets held up with sticks and topped with a thin layer of sand. Sgt. Dust had told Pvt. Dash and the rest of her squad, in no uncertain terms, not to speak until spoken to. So, Pvt. Dash was reduced to counting the rings on her standard issue thin chainmail suit to pass the time, dwelling on her life choices as she did. She took special note of the many rings that were brown with rust, as well as the gaps left by rings entirely absent.

Pvt. Dash recalled that Sgt. Dust was still sore over what happened at the Wonderbolts Academy, so she always went out of her way to ensure Pvt. Dash had the worst equipment and the most unpleasant duties. Sgt. Dust had joined the Mobile Infantry quite some time before the war, giving her just enough time to rise up to the highest enlisted rank available. This was due, in no small part, to being kicked out of the Academy; yet by sheer chance, it gave her the opportunity to enact some sweet revenge on this fresh new recruit who'd ruined her dreams in another not-too-distant life.

These thoughts dwelled in Pvt. Dash's mind, until she finally found a distraction from them: a hushed conversation between Second Lieutenant Cloud Kicker and Sgt. Dust. Pvt. Dash focused her attention in on it.

“Word from Thunderlane,” Lt. Kicker said. “Snakefang stopped moving.”

Sgt. Dust had a glazed look in the eye, fixed on a cockroach scurrying around in the sand. “Great. More sitting around. That's real good news. Have any other useful facts for me?”

Lt. Kicker groaned. “You know, you should treat your officers with a bit more respect.”

“Or what, new meat? You'll report me?” She looked to Lt. Kicker. “I'm the best sarge this company has. It's not my fault you're a meek little college filly who sucks at leadership. Why don't you just give up if you can't even get respect from your subs?”

Pvt. Dash got the urge to stand up to Sgt. Dust. With a heaping helping of hoof to the face. Too bad that was extremely against the rules. Stupid rules.

“Hey, I didn't think we'd be going to war!”

“If you didn't want to go to war, then you shouldn't have joined the MI, sweet-cheeks.”

Just then, she heard a throaty, guttural shouting, echoing over the hill. “Hey there, girlies! I see you there. Yes, you! The beardless ninnies behind the hills. Stop hiding like scared little goats and come die like a real stallion. I dare you.”

Pvt. Dash's heart sank. The element of surprise, the one thing they had to count on, was lost. As if to not be noticed, Pvt. Dash lifted her steel cap off her head and cradled it in her chest as she laid on the ground, quivering in fetal position.

Sgt. Dust stood over Pvt. Dash with a grin, and laughed. “Aww. Look at the big, bad Rainbow Dash, waying down wike a widdle baby. You gonna cry, little baby? Go on. Cry. I wanna see you CRY!”

Lt. Thunderlane ordered his first squad out to the Legate. The air echoed with the booms and crackles of deadly unicorn magic, and the pained screams of pegasi being either shot down in midair or crushed by Snakefang's armor-clad hooves. The fear and hopelessness that struck Pvt. Dash made her sob like an infant. She tried to hide her crying by holding her cap up to her face, but Sgt. Dust knew, and Pvt. Dash knew that she knew.

Sgt. Dust kept taunting her. “Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited to see this, you dumb little cunt. Even your fellow squadmates are laughing at you, little miss 'I'm as good as the Wonderbolts' Dash. For all your talk, this is what you do when it gets real. And I hope you die like this. Die in dirt and your own pathetic puddle of tears. Stupid cunt.” Lt. Kicker couldn't be bothered to help with this situation. There were more pressing matters. Pvt. Dash heard some muffled speech a few yards away, but couldn't quite understand it. Immediately after the speech stopped, Pvt. Dash heard more laughter from Sgt. Dust, followed by a hard kick in her stomach that made her puke a little in her mouth. “You hear that, baby Dash? Second squad is out, Thunderlane is dead, and the Major can't be assed to deal with Kicker.”

But then, a noise from the Major rung throughout the field. It was not an order. Not a comment. Not even someone's name. It was a scream laced with agony, followed by silence. The Major was dead. The central leading figure of the company was now gone. And at this point, the only sound to be heard was Snakefang's joyful cackling. This foxhole now only had Sgt. Dust's squad, with the only officer around being Lt. Kicker. Pvt. Dash lifted her cap back up to her head so she could see what was going on. Lt. Kicker and Sgt. Dust were arguing.

Sgt. Dust flung a hoof up and yelled, “Yeah, and we have HOW MANY left?”

“None. They're all dead. We're the only ones left. But you and Dash are our company's best, and Snakefang's coming up the hill alone.”

“Psh. And, what? You think we can take him? Look at Private Dash. You think she's in any shape to fight Snakefang?”

“I know it looks grim, bu-”

“But what? You wanna do a 'heroic sacrifice'?”

Lt. Kicker stuck out her chest. “It's what we signed up to do. I took an oath to die for my country, and I'm going to do it. And you're going to do it, too.”

“Or what?” There was a long silence, until Sgt. Dust looked at Lt. Kicker with a razor-sharp stare, and a grin eager for blood. “Yeah. You can die for your country, sweet-cheeks. Here, I'LL HELP YOU!”

Sgt. Dust pounced on Lt. Kicker, knocking her down to the ground like a bull on a hapless matador, then pummeling her head into the ground with a hoof, making her wail in anguish. Pvt. Dash stared horrified as Sgt. Dust slammed her hoof into Lt. Kicker's head again and again, until her brains oozed from cracks in her skull, and then until her skull shattered entirely. Sgt. Dust's blood-spattered grin only grew as she pulverized the leftover brain, but it was cut short when the squad's makeshift camouflage cover was ripped from the ground in a green aura and thrown away with careless abandon. Sgt. Dust's smile shrunk. The squad looked up at the top of the hill, and found Snakefang in his signature green and purple armor, looking down at them.

Snakefang chuckled. “A bit of unfriendly fire, I see.” He looked directly at Sgt. Dust. “And you look like you're enjoying yourself.”

Sgt. Dust said, “As leader of this squad, I surrender.”

“Hmm… and why should I accept?”

“I'll be honest. I can't think of a good reason. I just think this is my safest bet.”

“I like you. How's that for a reason?”

Sgt. Dust smirked. “Enough to take me out to dinner sometime?”

“Hah! Keep that up, and I just might.”

Pvt. Dash looked around. Each and every one of her squadmates stared stricken with terror at what was happening. Not just for Sgt. Dust brutally murdering her commanding officer with manic glee, but also for getting along with the infamous Legate Snakefang Gelder better than she did anyone in her own army.

Sgt. Dust motioned to her squad. “We're all gonna follow the good Legate, okay? It's our best chance to come out of this thing alive.”

Snakefang pointed to Pvt. Dash. “You want to bring that thing with you, miss…”

“Lightning Dust. Sergeant. Mobile Infantry.”

“It is a pleasure meeting you, Lightning Dust. I am sure you know who I am.”

Sgt. Dust nodded.

“Good. Now, about that blue thing…”

Sgt. Dust chuckled. “I want to watch you to do some horrible things to that one.”

“Kid, you don't know the meaning of 'horrible' until you've visited an Imperial torture chamber.”

She pointed to Pvt. Dash. “I want you to teach it to her. She's a bitch.”

“Hah! You remind me of my eldest daughter. Trust me, that's a complement.” He put a hoof up and extended it to her. “Come with me. I'll have to put you in a cage just like any other prisoner, but otherwise, I will give you very special treatment.”

“I couldn't have asked for more.”

He put his hoof down. “And, if you're a good little filly, then I'll put the blue one through some work in the chamber, and I'll let you watch. Consider it our first date.”

“Don't forget the wine.”

“I would never dream of it.”

With her grin returned, Sgt. Dust walked up the hill, motioning her squad to do the same. Pvt. Dash was petrified in despair at this point. After waiting a few moments for Pvt. Dash to get up, Snakefang eventually grew impatient, and lifted her up with magic. Pvt. Dash got sick in the pit of her stomach, seeing evil not only not punished, but rewarded. Hoping this was all just a bad dream, Pvt. Dash closed her eyes, thinking that maybe if she ignored the horrors of the Wasteland, they would go away.

“Your surprise is in here.”

Imperator swung open an oaken double-door, and Starlight saw a wooden box roughly her own size standing in the middle of an empty marble chamber. Then, the box was surrounded by a golden magical aura, and it burst into millions of flying splinters that rained down like confetti. Starlight shut her eyes, not wanting any to get in them.

After the last splinter fell, Starlight looked back into the room, and she saw a lavender suit of Imperial-style plate armor standing on an armor rack. Her smile grew wide as she examined it. The plates' color matched that of her coat perfectly, except for the black equal marks on its flanks, and reflected light from its sleek curvature like a glazed pot. It was articulated with utmost precision at every joint. Its helm had a plume of plucked slaves' hair that matched her own mane's color scheme exactly, and a gold-plated crown of thorny branches welded on it. And most impressively to Starlight, the two openings in the back had metal frames to protect the flesh and bone parts of her wings, like the frames Imperator had on his.

Imperator stood next to the armor and turned to Starlight. “What do you think of it?”

“I love it!” She took a breath. “Can I try it on?”

“Please. By all means.”

With her magic, she slipped each part of her toga off her body, making sure to fold each one neatly before setting it on the ground. She felt coolness brush through her coat after the toga was removed entirely, and stacked in a pyramid on the ground. Finally, she lifted her crown off her head and set it on top of the pyramid before she looked to her suit of armor.

As she clad each part of her armor on her, she couldn't help but smile at how it hugged every part of her, from her head to her haunches, and from her withers to her hooves. Because it was a masterfully crafted suit made specifically for her, there wasn't the slightest bit of chafing or wobbling, and she could move around in it just as well as if she wasn't wearing anything. The suit was lined with a smooth padding so that her coat didn't get stuck in the plates, and so she'd be as comfortable as possible in it. But oddly, the helm's eyeholes were covered from the inside with clear glass.

Starlight looked to Imperator, who was still watching. “This is wonderful!” She strutted around the room, pleased at the sound of her own voice muffled through the helm. “It fits me like a dream, and you even put my old mark on there. How sweet of you. So, how do I look?”

“You look dashing,” he replied.

She stopped and looked at him. “But, you know, I don't think it's safe to have glass near my eyes.”

“That is not just regular glass, dear. That is an Equestrian import. Acrylic glass, they call it. Plus, it has highly specialized ward, so that even putting a scratch on it would be a gargantuan effort."

“Well, what if it's hit with something that can break it?”

“In that case, you will have other things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Like pigs sprouting wings and taking flight.”

“Oh, okay. So, are there any other things about this suit I should know about?”

Imperator's horn began to emit fire. “It is fireproof.” Starlight suddenly found herself engulfed in fire from in front of her, yet its only effect on her was a twinge of warmth on her skin. The flame, itself, seemed to glide off her helm's air slits as if they weren't there. Starlight felt a rush of excitement, and laughed. The fire suddenly went away, and a mirror was being held in front of her, its handle covered in a golden aura. Her reflection showed not a single singe or stain; even her plume was untouched.

Imperator set the mirror aside. “It is also magic-resistant.” A flurry of golden magical missiles struck her from Imperator's horn, followed by various dings and clangs from each place she was hit, but no pain.

Starlight walked up close to Imperator, and she tried to shoot him a smug look, but then realized her helm concealed it. “Anything else?”

“One last thing.” Without warning, Imperator struck her jaw with a lightning-fast backhoofed blow. Yet, although her head was flung back from the hit, the pain was minimal. The sound and the vibrations of her armor ringing from her helm to down her back was more noticeable. “It is shock absorbent.”

Starlight recovered from the blow. “Hey! That's the second time you did that.” She paused. “Do you like hitting me?”

“Do you like being hit?”

She chuckled. “You know me. I don't mind a little rough treatment now and then. Just don't overdo it. I'm not a masochist.”

“I will try not to.”

She touched a hoof on the spot where she was hit. “And I'm assuming you didn't leave a dent in there?”

“Of course not. I would not be so cruel as to damage your gift just after giving it to you.”

She nodded. “Good. I'd hate to face down the Legate with a dent in my helmet.”

“Your duel should be soon. Cordelphi should go down with practically no effort, and we should be meeting the Legate's forces in short order.”

Starlight sauntered past Imperator, and through the room's exit. “Well, let's go, then. I'd rather not waste any more time.”

Chapter 23

Snakefang's holding chamber was a musty dug-out cave, supported by wooden beams and lit by a dim, flickering candle on a table that was surrounded by the rusty cages inside. There were eight cages, as least so far as Pvt. Dash could see. Eight cages for eight prisoners. Seven of these cages, Pvt. Dash's included, was just tall enough for her to stand upright if she lowered her neck down a bit, just wide enough for her to almost turn her body either way at three degrees, and just long enough for her to fully extend a forehoof outward if she squeezed herself into the bars to her rear. The eighth cage, Sgt. Dust's cage, was large enough for her to move around quite freely.

Pvt. Dash took a glance at Sgt. Dust. She was humming a loud, happy tune to herself as she stretched her wings outward and strutted around in a circle, looking at her squadmates to make sure they were watching.

There was shouting from the shadowed hall in the distance.  “Prisoners! Time for your mid-day ration.”

A legionary in chainmail and visored stahlhelm emerged. One of the regular troops. His horn glowed with an aura as gray as his eyes, beard, coat, and armor. In front of him, he levitated two food containers: one family-size serving bowl full of gruel made from stale barley, and one regular porcelain bowl full of tasty-looking salad.

Pvt. Dash focused on the orange-sized granite bowl in front of her. Everyone except Sgt. Dust had one of these, and they were all smelly from being used over four days without cleaning. Pvt. Dash was emotionally numb at this point. She was always hungry, used to eating plentiful amounts of nutritious food for her athletic pursuits, now reduced to starvation rations.

“Prisoner Three.” The legionary scooped some gruel out of a ladle and dumped it in Pvt. Raindance's bowl.

“Prisoner Four.” Gruel for Pvt. Flitter. As the legionary got closer to Pvt. Dash, she could practically feel the chill from his glazed eyes. Like every other legionary, his empathy was nonexistent.

“Prisoner Five.” Gruel for Pvt. Sky Walker. His father, himself a war veteran, was murdered. Like many of the Equestrian troops deployed here, he was a new enlistee who wanted to fight for his country, just as his father once did. Now, the only thing he'd be fighting would be his own mental decay.

“Prisoner Six.” Gruel for Pvt. Dash. She watched her bowl fill up with gruel. Tiny specks of mold could be seen floating around in the brown soupy food-product if she looked closely enough – a mistake she quickly learned not to repeat.

“Prisoner Seven. Prisoner Eight. Prisoner Nine.” Pvt. Dash didn't bother looking at the other three. Prisoner Nine, also known as Pvt. Parish, once complained about his bowl never being filled completely, and asked for more. After being denied rations entirely for two days, he never complained again.

“Sergeant Lightning Dust.”

Sgt. Dust audibly licked and smacked her lips as she watched her bowl slide in through a slot in her cage. “Wow, sir. That looks really good. Crisp, clean, fresh, not one bit of dirt or mold. An outstanding ration. Would you agree, my good, kind sir?”

The legionary replied, “I would.”

Sgt. Dust looked up to the legionary's glazed eyes with a smile. “Oh, sir. You're so nice to me. Can you remind me why you're being so nice to me?”

“I am to abide by the Legate's orders.”

“Oh, wow.” She looked to the rest of her squad. “Did you guys hear that? Legate's orders. Snakefang is such a kind gentlecolt, isn't he? Really knows how to treat a mare.” She looked back to the legionary. “Can you tell me your name and rank, sir?”

“Gray Stone. Legionary Apothecary.”

“That's good. It's good to be on a name-to-name basis with your POW's, you know. It's a sign of respect. Would you agree, that it's a sign of respect?”

“I would.”

“I'm glad. You can go now. I'm sure you're a very busy stallion.”

The legionary turned to leave the chamber, but then another figure emerged from the shadows: Snakefang, himself.

The legionary saluted Snakefang. “Sir! I have the coronary reports on prisoners one and two ready for your eyes, sir.”

“Hmm. I was actually coming in here to take my dearest little pet out for her walk. But, sure. I would like for you to read both their abstracts to me in full, so the prisoners can hear.”

“Yes, sir.” He slipped two rolls of paper out from his utility belt, then unrolled the first one in front of him so he could read. “Prisoner one, A.K.A. Shining Bright. Guilty of treason and collaboration with hostile forces. Died in captivity. Probable cause of death: Deadly infection, originating from severe open wounds in the rectum and groin. Buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, without ceremony.”

“Hah! I guess he didn't have the balls to brave the infection. Maybe it's not entirely his fault. Slaves aren't exactly known for their cleanliness. Continue.”

The legionary flipped to another page. “Prisoner two, A.K.A. Skippy Sparkles. Guilty of treason. Died in captivity. Probable cause of death: Internal bleeding, originating from severe blunt trauma and tearing in the lower body. Buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, without ceremony.”

“Excellent. I'll be taking those, thank you.” Snakefang took magical grips on the reports. “That will be all, legionary. Dismissed.”

The legionary saluted Snakefang with a “Sir!” then exited the chamber.

Sgt. Dust looked to Snakefang with a smile. “Hey there, sir. What's that I hear about balls? Sounds funny.”

“Oh. Nothing important. A prisoner dropped dead from an infection in the hole where his testicles used to be.”

Sgt. Dust laughed. “They don't call you 'Gelder' for nothing, huh?”

Snakefang laughed with her. “No. They most certainly don't.”

“So, you've decided on taking me out on that date?”

He nodded. “Of course. I've heard nothing but good things about you these past few days.”

“So~ they haven't told you about the way I've been with the other prisoners.”

“Oh, no. They have. Like I said. Nothing but good things.”

Sgt. Dust laughed again. “Man, why was I stuck with the MI? Your army is way cooler.”

“So I've noticed. So, Miss Dust. What is your favorite brand of wine? I have a pretty wide selection.”

Sgt. Dust's smile went away. “I was kidding about that.”

“Does that matter?”

“Yeah.” She paused, then her smile returned. “I prefer beer.”

“Hah!” Snakefang gave Sgt. Dust's head a playful rub. “Beer! Excellent choice, kiddo. Looks like we have a proper Imperial here, trapped in a petite, squishy barbarian body. Absolutely adorable.” He lit his horn. A ring of large steel keys from some shadowed part of the wall was drawn to Pvt. Dash's cage, then stuck into the keyhole in front. The chamber echoed with the clanging of keys. “The Empire makes a fine lager. I would like to see you try some.” Snakefang turned to Pvt. Dash. “Exit. Follow. Now.”

At any other time, she would've told Snakefang to shove it, then bolt out of there, easily escaping with her unparalleled flight-speed. But she was too tired for that, physically and mentally, so she shuffled out of the cage with her head hanging down and her eyes shut. 'Just block it out,' she thought to herself, 'just block it all out.'

“Well, Miss Dust. Here it is.”

Sgt. Dust looked at all the neat toys that were stocked in this dimly lit dug-out room, and was filled with wonder. The rack, the iron maiden, whips of various shapes and sizes, and all sorts of others that she didn't even recognize. The pear-shaped thing on the table, especially, was a bit strange, but the strangeness only added to the collection's whimsy.

Sgt. Dust laughed. “This is awesome! Look at all this stuff. It's like a museum, but cooler.”

“Unlike in a museum, these exhibits are actually used. Extensively.”

“Why?”

“Mostly for my own entertainment, but they are sometimes used to extract confessions. Occasionally information as well, but only as a last resort.”

“A last resort? Why?”

“Information extracted from torture is questionable to say the least. For security reasons, I cannot go into detail, but let me just say I tried it recently and got disappointing results. The Secret Service is better at their job than I give them credit for. Not like it matters. I would have put my focus on the Equestrians either way.” He paused. “So, the real reason why you are here is avenging the death of your Princess Twilight Sparkle, correct?”

“Yeah, it's kinda like that. They called it a 'punitive war'.”

“But the Empire had nothing to do with your child-princess. She had come within our own borders on her own volition. The Kaiser told me to leave her alone to prevent exactly this sort of thing from happening.”

“The Kaiser? He's the one who sent Celestia that little package. It had his seal.”

“It did? Only a member of the Kaiser's family can have a Kaiser's seal, and only with the Kaiser's approval!”

“Well, maybe it was a forgery.”

“Preposterous. The seal cannot be reproduced, and only a very select few have it. Such a forgery cannot have been made unle-…” Snakefang stopped for a second, then growled. “The heretic.”

“Heretic? What heretic?”

He stamped a hoof on the ground. “Your ally, you stupid little girl! A consorter with xenos and ruinous powers, taking up arms against his own nation. Or maybe you'd be better acquainted with that wretched siren who no doubt led him down the heretical path in the first place? Hm?”

“Who?”

He glared at her; his horn charged for an attack. “STARLIGHT GLIMMER, YOU…” He sighed, then dissipated his magic and shook his head. “You are lucky you are so damned cute. You would be dead right now were you not. You are a barbarian. An unusually intelligent and adorable one, but one nonetheless. How am I supposed to think you have the slightest clue about these things?”

Sgt. Dust rubbed Snakefang's armored shoulder and looked into his eyes with feigned concern. She figured comforting him would earn her even more special treatment. “What's got you so worked up, bro?”

“I have fought barbarians of all sorts. Griffin, Zebra, Changeling, Saracen, and your own lot, but I never hated them. They were fun to kill was all, and it was my job. But two things I cannot stomach are TRAITORS AND HERETICS.” He let out a rippling snort. “But I cannot discount Glimmer's role in this. Temptress, weaver of falsehoods, practitioner of the highest order of witchcraft… and most disgusting of all, wants to free the slaves. Blasphemy of the worst sort.”

Sgt. Dust let on a sheepish smile. “Um, have you considered that maybe you were born in the wrong universe?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, but I have a hunch you'd have been happier in, say, the grim darkness of the far future.”

“… the what?”

“You know. The far future. With a god-emperor and a theocratic empire waging war on a galactic scale with xenos, traitors, heretics, and all that stuff.”

“Where are you getting all this from?”

Sgt. Dust rolled her eyes. “Some tabletop game my nerd brother plays. I forget what it's called, but you seem like you'd enjoy it. I dunno who decided that our world needed grim darkness, but he must be bored out of his mind. Seriously, who comes up with this crap?”

Snakefang groaned. “You Equestrians are crazy.”

“Hey, just trying to lighten up the mood. But anyway, I don't get how freeing slaves is disgusting. Isn't more freedom better?”

He shook his head. “You cannot know what is good and holy. You simply lack the capacity. But I can tell you that I got reports of what she said during that blasted speech of hers. And the way she had that traitor spellbound by her singing. No doubt another act of witchcraft.”

“What makes you think that? Maybe he really does believe in… whatever she'd have him believe.”

“Preposterous. He should know from his time in the Academy how sick, evil, and stupid the idea of total equality is. Even the dumbest, greenest legionary would. It is clear that she is using her witchcraft and her siren's call to cloud his judgment and corrupt his soul.” He growled. “Yes, I have reason to believe that she is a siren as well as a witch. Even though our agents listened to her sing the Crusader's Hymn through a distant sound-catching device, they were still mesmerized by her singing.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Cleanse her evil from this world with holy fire. The Wasteland can no longer suffer her demonic presence.” He paused. “I hear she wants to challenge me to an honor duel. Probably why the rock-things are coming here so quickly. A laughable proposition to say the very least, a barbarian challenging a Legionary First Cohort to single combat, and one that I was going to ignore entirely. But now that I have learned that she is the one behind all this, I will gladly accept. I have always wondered what alicorns' blood looked like.”

“And her friend?”

“He must also burn. The pyre is the only cure for a corrupt soul.” He slammed a hoof against his chest and shot his gaze up to the ceiling. “I must begin the bridge assault immediately. I'd wanted to wait for a few more of their cowards to die of whatever their army's been cursed with, but now, there is no time.” He looked back down to Sgt. Dust. “I cannot get into why for security reasons, but Prisoner Six will have to wait. But don't worry. I'll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“I'll let you watch the assault.”

“Meh. Better than staying in that cage.”

“Oh, no, you'll still be in your cage. Your cage will just be moved outside.”

“Hey, whatever, bro. Fresh air is fresh air, and a good show's a good show.”

The muscles below Snakefang's eyes tensed, and those above his eyes loosened. “D'aww. You are just the cutest, most adorable little creature I have ever come across. Oh, I just want to rub those perky little cheeks of yours.”

And rub her cheeks he did. Sgt. Dust felt her lips purse and her cheeks flood with warm pigment as she looked away in embarrassment. Then, Snakefang lit his horn, and Sgt. Dust felt the pits of her wings tingle a great deal. Her wings unfolded reflexively, and despite her best efforts to fight it, she burst into laughter, which only made her more embarrassed, which only made her cheeks hotter and more discolored.

“Stop!” Sgt. Dust said, still laughing. “Come on. This isn't cool. I'm a warrior.”

“Aww. The cute little filly thinks she's a warrior. You want to know how many warriors your country's armed forces have?” He chuckled. “None! I knew you were going to try to ambush me when I left Benn alone. In fact, I do this sort of thing regularly. Do you know how boring it is being a field marshal? It's all desk work. I hardly ever get to get my hooves nice and dirty these days.” He paused. “You're all just a bunch of kids playing make-believe, thinking you're going to be the next… eh, what do you call her? Daring Do? Ah! That's what I'll call you. Dusty-Do. My cute little Dusty-Do. A cutesy name for my cutesy little pet-concubine.”

Sgt. Dust's laughter started to die down. “What the hell is a concubine?”

“Kind of a cross between a slave and a wife. But you'll be more like a pet than a slave. My dearest pet Dusty-Do. Yes, I have all kinds of plans for you after I make you an official concubine. Mmm. Sweet, delicious plans.”

Sgt. Dust's stomach turned. Her smile faded as she was conflicted between the tickling in the pits of her wings and Snakefang's creepy allusions. “But I don't want a family. I'm too young.”

“Don't worry. You will not be forced to suffer motherhood. Mutant foals are snuffed out at birth, as per divine law. You will only be an object of pleasure.”

What little laughter there was left vanished. Her heart rate picked up pace. Each breath was shallow and fast. In her chest, she felt her heart sink. She stuttered. Fear kept her from finding a decent response. She struggled to get words out. “N-no. I… I won't”

“Your consent is a non-issue, my sweet. You have no rights whatsoever in the Empire. No non-citizen does. I'll probably have to keep you in your chamber a bit longer until you learn that.” He laughed. “Yes. I could burst into the Ruusonian prince's palace right now and ravage his daughters, and he couldn't say 'boo' about it. Same goes for you… and the blue one…” He looked back and fourth between Sgt. Dust and Pvt. Dash with audible slobbering coming from beneath his helm, then lit his horn, lifting both of them up off the ground and leaving them fixed in place. “Now that I think about it, you both look very appetizing, and I'm rather famished.”

He looked to the table, and magically tossed the pear aside, watching it fall to the ground. Sgt. Dust and Pvt. Dash both tried to wriggle and shake their way out of Snakefang's magical grip, but no matter how much their nerves fired, their muscles didn't respond. They could only look on, horrified as Snakefang swaggered to the table with them floating nearby, so deeply frozen that they couldn't even use their vocal cords to scream.

Snakefang chuckled. “I might make the blue one my concubine as well. Depends on how well I like her. I admit, I've always had a bit of a thing for pegasi, and you two are the best-looking pieces of meat I've seen in a long, long time…”

It had been a while since Starlight last saw rickety wooden barricades. Yet, here were the walls of Cordelphi, sitting underneath the afternoon sky, just as rotten and filthy as she'd remembered them. Dressed in her toga, she traveled by carriage, with centaurs in marching formation in front of and behind her. She was pulled by recently freed slaves and was kept cool under the roof by another former slave who held a fan in her mouth. These former slaves all had equal marks on their flanks, and all kept permanent toothy grins. Books were stacked all around Starlight, and she magically held in front of her an open book called The Lobotomist's Bible, examining its contents and having her pen held over her pile of loose leaf papers, ready to add whatever she needed to the already extensive compilation of notes she'd made throughout the trip. Being a fast reader was a boon for her, and she always had Checkmate and Imperator to keep her company.

Those two rode on separate chariots next to each other, also pulled by former slaves. They held a chess set between themselves, holding the board and pieces with their respective magics. Starlight, although putting most of her focus on her studies, listened to them speak.

“… and this piece is called the rook,” Checkmate explained. “What it does is it moves either horizontally or vertically, past as many squares as you like. Within the rules, of course.”

“Ah. I see.”

“There's a special little thing you can do with the rook. It's called 'castling'. If the space between your unmoved king and one of your original, unmoved rooks is free, you can move your king along the first row of squares until it's one square away from the corner, and at the same time, place your rook two squares away from that same corner along that same row.”

“I thought you could only move one piece per turn.”

“Yes. That's mostly true. But this is a special case.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Oh, there are plenty of reasons why you would. It gets your rook closer to the middle of the board, and your king in a safer spot, for example.”

“And I suppose I could also use it to move the king to a safer spot should it be put in check?”

“No. That's against the rules.”

“What if I am in check no matter what I do?”

“Then you're in checkmate. It means you lost the game. The object of chess is to get your opponent in checkmate.”

“Hm. It is not to destroy all your opponent's pieces?”

“No. A really good player will be able to get her opponent in checkmate without losing or taking a whole lot of pieces. A lot of pieces lost on both sides generally means the players are both novices.”

“Interesting. And I am to assume you are a really good player?”

“Darling. My name is Checkmate Master. It'd be silly if I wasn't. Of course, I've had a lot of practice.”

“What for?”

“Just a hobby. A fairly productive one at that. Helps keep the mind sharp.”

“Ah. And I would suppose a beginner such as myself playing with a master of checkmates is out of the question?”

“Hmm… no, I don't think it would. As long as I go easy on you, of course. But I think I can teach you to be a fairly decent player with some time. Starlight?” She turned her head to face Starlight. “Would you mind if I taught your partner the intricacies of chess?”

“Sure, sure,” Starlight replied, still reading her book.

Checkmate looked back to Imperator. “There you go. You're white, so you go first. I suggest moving one of your center pawns.”

Eventually, Starlight's carriage stopped in front of Cordelphi's town hall, a humble brick abode that stood three stories tall and had two granite statues of dragons, standing behind the ranks of centaurs that stood at attention for Starlight's arrival, flanking the pavement that led from the road to its doors. Imperator's and Checkmate's chariots stopped behind her. A centaur Legate, one almost her size and made of obsidian that glistened in the light, greeted them with a cohort of centaur legionaries standing in formation, all giving her and her companions a salute closely matching the Imperial salute, but using its right arm instead of its right foreleg. Starlight disembarked from her carriage, and Imperator and Checkmate disembarked from their chariots. Imperator walked up to the Legate to speak with him. Since their conversation was entirely in Reichschpeak, Starlight figured there was no sense in listening in to it, so walked up to Checkmate to speak with her instead.

“So, Checkmate. I hear you and he played some chess?”

Checkmate nodded.

“How is he?”

“Eh. He's alright for a beginner. A surprisingly good sport, too, and he seems to like the game.”

“Oh, that's great!” 'Something a bit more PR-friendly to keep him occupied,' Starlight thought to herself.

“Just curious. Do you play chess at all?”

“Me? Occasionally. Though, I can't remember the last time I've had an opponent who wasn't a complete idiot, so I'm a bit rusty.”

“There was nobody in your old cottage who was not a complete idiot?”

One corner of Starlight's mouth tensed. “I'm afraid not.”

“That is unfortunate. I know how frustrating that can be sometimes.”

Starlight took a glance at Imperator, who had just finished his talk with his Legate and returned his Legate's salute before turning back to talk to Starlight.

“This town is now officially ours. Martial law is in effect here as well. The mayor is waiting in the town hall lobby to speak with you.”

Starlight nodded. “Okay. Let's go, then.”

While walking down the pavement, Starlight examined the statues as she passed by them. Dragons. Mean-looking ones, too. Something like this in Equestria would get the artist's sanity questioned. But here, it was good enough to be placed in front of a town hall, and Starlight would agree. Not good enough for Starlightopolis, of course, but good enough for this place.

When Starlight swung open the doors of the town hall, she was taken aback by a grizzly sight. A large and stocky mare, whose glowing green horn protruded from her pointed white mask made from the same cloth as her white robe that touched the ground. To her right, she levitated the severed head of a blue stallion, which let drop after drop of blood spatter on the puddle staining the white tile floor below it. To her left, she levitated a ring of woven thorny branches.

“Greetings.” Her voice was coarse and rough. “I am an agent of the Imperial Secret Service. I come bearing a message from Legate Snakefang Gelder. For Starlight Glimmer's eyes.” She magically pulled a folded and sealed paper out from underneath her robe and presented it to Starlight.

Starlight shot Imperator a quizzical look. “Why is she dressed like a ghost?” she asked.

“Standard Secret Service uniform,” he replied. “The motto of the Secret Service is, 'Haunted by none, haunts all.' Akin to a ghost, hence the ghost motif.”

She nodded. “Oh. Okay.” She looked back to the secret agent. “Whose head is that?”

“The mayor's,” she replied. “The Legate wants you to know that the Secret Service is nothing to sneeze at.”

The secret agent then looked to Imperator, and said something to him in Reichschpeak. The two then spoke politely to each other in the foreign language. Starlight and Checkmate glanced at each other, neither sure what was going on, but both were surprised at how little hostility came from either party. After they finished, the agent disappeared in a flash of green, leaving the mayor's head to plummet on the ground, and the Legate's letter to nearly touch the ground before Starlight caught it with her own magic.

Starlight brought the letter to her, then observed its seal. The Kaiser's growling wolf. After peeling the seal off, she unfolded the letter and read it.

To: Starlight Glimmer

From: Snakefang Gelder, Reich-Fieldmarshal

If you have received this message, then you have no doubt seen with your own eyes how far the Reich's talons reach. I can assure you that I know far more about you than you will ever know about me.

You talk so haughtily about how you plan to defeat me in single combat. I accept your challenge. You were foolish to present it. The reason why is obvious, and no-one in the Empire would be surprised if you went back on it like a coward. But if you do decide to follow through with it, then I advise you to prepare whatever you can for your passing. It will come in handy.

I stand with the Second Legion, fortifying the north of the bridge as the other five Legions butcher your spineless country-folk. There is no helping them. If you want to help them, you will have to break through us. And should you attempt to do so, you will only break yourself.

Starlight then passed the letter on to Imperator, who skimmed through it.

“So,” he said, “what my Legate said was true. Snakefang has decided to block off the bridge crossing.”

“Yep.”

“Snakefang is right, you know. The Second Legion is perfectly capable of defending that crossing from anything we could throw at it.”

“Hm. We still have that thing, right? The… you-know-what?”

“Yes. It is perfectly safe.”

“Can we use it on the Second Legion? Hmm. Then the Legate will probably die, which means I can't kill him in the duel.”

“Which means you cannot earn the Praetorians' favor.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Then I suggest we follow through with our original plan.”

“Really? Even though this happened?”

“Especially since this happened.”

“But we didn't want to fight any of the Legions.”

“I think avoiding that is still possible, assuming Bright served his purpose well enough.” He looked to Checkmate. “You say you write speeches, correct?”

Checkmate smiled. “I do. My work is quite excellent, if I say so myself, and results don't lie.”

“Would you help me write a speech of my own?”

“What kind of speech did you have in mind?”

“A new era speech. Like the kind Starlight gave in Starlightopolis. We can discuss the details later, but suffice it to say I would like to adopt similar rhetoric for an Imperial audience.”

“Can I help?” Starlight asked.

“You need to focus on your studies,” Imperator replied. “It is bad enough you need to balance that with preparing for your fight with Snakefang. Let Checkmate have her moment in the sun. This is why we invited her to the team in the first place. You are doing so much already.”

“Yeah. You're right.” She looked to Checkmate with a smile and a pat on the back. “Go on. Write his speech. Make it the best speech you've ever written.”

“Thank you, Starlight. You won't be disappointed. Neither of you will.”

The quaking of the ground threw Sgt. Dust on her side from off her four-hundred-twenty-second wing pushup, and rattled every cage in the chamber. The sound of clanging metal filled the air. The candle that lit the room fell over. Its flame was then extinguished, leaving the whole room in darkness. All of Sgt. Dust's squadmates began a symphony of distressed moaning and groaning. She, herself, remained silent except for her quick and heavy breathing. The floor shook too violently for her to feel confidence in standing up, and there was really no point to it, so she laid there on her side until the shaking ended with an ear-splitting boom from outside. After that, the room was quiet, save for the distant shouting of legionaries who claimed that a meteoroid had fallen down from the heavens and destroyed Brustworth Bridge.

Some claimed it was their mysterious god, and others claimed it was some trick from Luna or her sister, but not one denied that it happened.

Sgt. Dust continued to lay motionless on the ground, listening to the commotion from outside. Several hours were spent in the dark, eavesdropping on speech that was often an unintelligible garble for how much of it was coming to her at once. It was boring, but she was used to boredom by now. At least, she was until her visit from Snakefang a week or two ago. After that, boredom gave way to far worse things. She had dedicated all her focus to the speaking outside, and just when her mind began to slip into places where she didn't want it to, a gray light marched down the hall, followed by seven more lights of different colors following from behind it.

Once they came close enough, they revealed the faces of legionaries. One of them was familiar. It was that of Apothecary Gray Stone, their primary caretaker. Sgt. Dust had always gotten along well with him. As well as someone like her could get along with someone like him, anyway. Perhaps he knew what was going on.

“Hey!” she called out. “Gray Stone! What's going on?”

The eight legionaries each faced one of the eight cages; Gray Stone happened to be in front of Sgt. Dust's cage.

“Hey! Gray Stone! Tell me what's going on!”

He looked to one of the legionaries behind him. “Permission to tell her, tent-leader?”

“Granted,” the tent-leader replied.

Stone's emotionless eyes met Sgt. Dust's, and he replied, “Brustworth Bridge has been destroyed. That means the way south has been cut off, which means our Legion no longer has any reason to be here. We are moving out.”

“Moving out? Where?”

“To Benn. We will hold out there until the war south of the bridge is finished, and another crossing is built. The Legate wants to make taking Benn by storm impossible, so that the other force will be forced to starve it into submission, thereby giving the other Legions the time they need.”

“Well, where will I go?”

“The citadel dungeon.”

Sgt. Dust felt the cage lift up in the air from below her, surrounded by a gray aura. The seven other cages were lifted in seven other magical auras. Once each legionary turned back and left the chamber, a cage levitated next to him. After every other cage was on its way out, Gray Stone turned around, and carried Sgt. Dust with him. She smiled, looking forward to some fresh air and a change of scenery. Hopefully, she could start putting all this behind her.

Chapter 24

It was midday. The siege camp around Benn was built. Starlight stood in her tent, clad in her armor, which Imperator rubbed down with a silk cloth dipped in liquid polish. She was fighting Snakefang today, and she wanted to look her best for it. Not that the life-or-death nature of it didn't occur to her – indeed, it left her jittery whenever it came to mind – but there was something strangely empowering about keeping her battle attire clean and in good order, and in any case, it was more pleasant to think about.

Her plates already glistened in the light peering from the tent's open flaps; the last rubs were made on her inner thighs. And once that was finished, Imperator set the magically held cloth on a nearby table and began walking in circles around Starlight, hunting for any leftover blemishes or stains.

“I still do not know why you insist that I do this,” Imperator said. “I am not accustomed to this sort of work.”

“You're the only one I trust to do this. Having anyone else do it just doesn't sit right with me.”

He stood behind her and magically lifted her tail up and to the side with his magic to check the haunches, crotch, and back legs. “You were never one to care much for personal space.”

“I just feel better this way. And even if my personal boundaries are small, I still have them.”

“Ah. I see.” He released her tail, letting it fall back down, then went on to inspect the back, belly, and sides.

“And besides. I like your attention to detail. You keep everything neat and tidy, just like I like it.”

“A slave would do just as well. All you have to do is beat it if it is doing poorly.”

Starlight groaned. “Again with the slaves. I just like spending time with you, okay? Is that so wrong? I spend so much time alone, studying. And you're always either doing army stuff, playing chess with Checkmate, or helping Checkmate with your speech. I just wanted to be with you for a while.”

After checking her front legs and chest, he made eye contact with her. “You could have just said so without having me do slave work.”

“Hmph. Well, excuse me if I'm not an expert on slaver etiquette. I thought this would be a good way to spend time together.”

“Hm. You know, that was the only reason why I agreed to doing this in the first place.”

Starlight smiled. “You like spending time with me, too?”

“I do. So, how are your studies going?”

“They're going great! In fact, I think I've made a breakthrough.”

“A breakthrough? Already?”

She nodded. “Yep. I think I know how to fix a lobotomized brain now.”

“…you can't be serious.”

“I am. The only problem left is doing it on a massive scale.”

“Have you tried it on any live specimen?”

She shook her head. “No, I haven't. It's all been theoretical so far, but I've been wanting to give the honor of 'first de-lobotomized pony' to Sucker Pop.”

“I will believe it when I see it.”

“Oh, come on! Why do you have to be so cynical all the time?”

“Cynicism is the best defense against disappointment.”

“When have I ever disappointed you?”

“There is a first time for everything.” He paused. “And you still have Snakefang to worry about.”

Starlight shook in her armor; her chest got heavy. “Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence. “I sense fear in you, Starlight.”

A shaky breath came from Starlight. “Yeah. I am a bit scared.” Her gaze drew down to the ground, and after a quiet moment, she looked back up to Imperator. “When you were about to fight Princess Twilight. Were you scared at all then?”

“My dear. I have been facing these situations for almost a century. The constant risk of death has become a banality for me by this point. That said, I do understand your concerns.”

“Really?”

“I never told you what made the Academy consider me worthy of elite training. Perhaps it is time I did.” He cleared his throat. “It is true that I was included in the First Cohort after my first kill, and upon receiving my mark. But what I did not tell you was that it was no mere sparring session.” He paused. “Not long before my fight, I was caught stealing bread from my Centurion. Now, this Centurion had a child of his own in the Academy. He was several years older than myself and was included in the First Cohort program. The Centurion, none to pleased with my theft, had decided that the best way to salve his anger would be to watch his own son kill me in single combat. Needless to say, I and everyone else had practically considered me dead by that point. But still, I fought, and I arose victorious.”

“Well, how did you beat him? Support from your friends? Some powerful magic? Believing in yourself?”

“No. None of those.”

“Then what?”

“Fighting dirty. Employing cheap, dishonest tricks to dispatch a more orthodox opponent.”

Starlight chuckled. “Wait. You fought dirty?”

“Yes. I fought dirty.”

“But what about honor? Professionalism? Warrior's code? All that stuff? Aren't you Imperials all about honor?”

“Never. That is just something we tell the barbarians. The truth is that we not only tolerate, but encourage dirty fighting among our ranks. A custom set by Planetvoid, himself. We just pay lip service to honor and the warrior's code because it gives us a sort of prestigious grandiosity to foreigners, and it makes our cheap tricks all the more unexpected, thus all the more effective.”

“But that doesn't stop you from disparaging others for fighting dirty.”

“Most certainly not.”

“So… You're all hypocrites. Every last one of you.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, no wonder you didn't care that I kept my cutie mark!”

“You mean back when we first met?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well, it was not just that. It was also because I could tell straight away that you were better than the worthless simpletons who put you in charge, thus deserved to be held to a more privileged standard.”

Starlight giggled. “Yeah. They are worthless, aren't they?”

“Indeed they are.”

“And would that also be why you didn't even bother trying to tell them about it?”

“That is part of it. The main reason, however, was that if I had directly accused you without evidence, then you would have flatly denied it, even if it was just between us.”

“But wait. You did accuse me of it.”

“Not directly. I just alluded to it. You were the one who made that connection, just as I had intended.”

“And if I didn't make that connection?”

“Then I would have considered you a moron and not worth my time.”

“And if the others were watching?”

“Then your overly defensive reaction would likely have been enough to arouse suspicion, and I would have had plausible deniability to keep you from accusing me of libel. One of the oldest tricks in the book, really.”

“You're quite the manipulative bastard aren't you?”

Imperator gave Starlight a playful poke in the chest. “You would know.”

“Oh, I'm so glad I had you come here and do this for me.”

“I am curious. Do you have… a family?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I told you about my dad. I don't know about my mom. I have a sister, too.”

“Hm. No husband? No children?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He tilted his head. “Is that so? An outstanding mare like you, thirty and still unwed? Would you be a widow by any chance?”

“No. I just never got around to it. I had my studies, I had Our Town… it seemed like a waste of time.”

“I had a wife.”

Starlight was taken aback. “What? Really?”

“Well, of course. Two, in fact. I had also four children.”

“You're a dad, too!?”

He nodded. “Three sons. One daughter. The sons are dead, but perhaps I will introduce you to my daughter one of these days.”

“What about your parents?”

“Dead.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“I haven't the faintest clue.”

“Well, what made you ask me if I was married? Are… are you suggesting…”

“I am. A mare as excellent as you should not be thirty and unwed. And of course, I believe myself to be the prime candidate for a myriad of reasons. Would you agree?”

Starlight put a hoof to her armored chin, feigning thought, then nodded. “You know what? Yes. I would.”

“Very good. Now, if my research into the matter was accurate, then it would befit Equestrian custom for me to present a ring to you right about now. I know how much you like shiny things.”

Imperator lit his horn, and after a short while, Starlight noticed a large gold and satin jewelry box come into her sight from the side. As it was presented to her, she awaited what was within. Then, the box snapped open. Inside the box, she saw a behemoth of white, glimmering diamond. It was perched atop a golden ring that was thick and polished so finely that it reflected the sun's peering rays. Starlight gasped, and locked her gaze onto the ring. It left her mesmerized, grinning a toothy grin stretching as wide as could be.

“This is indeed a strange custom,” Imperator said. “It would be impossible to adorn oneself with this thing. A display piece, I suppose. But, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Starlight Glimmer, will you make me the luckiest stallion in the world and give me your hoof in marriage?”

After staring at the ring for some time in giddy excitement, she looked back up to Imperator and answered him. “Yes! Yes, I will!”

“Very, very, very good. Now, please try not to get killed in your duel. A corpse would make a rather sub-par wife.”

“Yeah. That's true.” She glanced down at her armor. “So how's everything look back there? All spic and span?”

“All spic and span, dear.”

“Excellent!” She took a deep breath and made her way out of the tent. “Let's get this over with, then. The sooner I get to see Snakefang choke on his own blood, the better.”

Benn's walls were a soulless stack of gray stone blocks, with towers and a gatehouse as blandly square as the blocks, themselves. Those who stood guard atop those walls looked down on Starlight with cold indifference as she stood in front of the city gates, waiting for Snakefang to emerge. Imperator was a stone's throw behind her, and just behind him, ranks of rock centaurs awaited their next command.

It was a while before the sound of legionaries marching in lockstep echoed from behind the gates. Starlight felt her heart kicking against her ribs. Her breathing grew heavy. The time had come. Soon after the marching ceased, the iron grate rose, and the doors behind it were pulled open. The rattling of chains and a cloud of dust kicked up by the doors filled the air. Once the gates were open, the marching continued. Snakefang marched ahead of his First Cohort towards Starlight. Once he was some distance outside of the city, he stopped, and his First Cohort's six Centuries formed a single line behind Snakefang in mechanical lockstep. Once they were done, they stood still and silent. Even their Centurions, who wore devil's horns on their helms and white capes on their backs, stayed quiet.

After a brief stand-off, Snakefang was the first to speak. “You've gotten a lot farther than you should have.”

“I did. And I'll go even farther after I'm done with you.”

“Hah! I think not. Your ride's over, barbarian. Time to die.” He chuckled. “I suggest you pray to your pathetic sun-goddess now. You won't get a second go.”

“I don't need any god's help to wipe the floor with you.”

“I eat Equestrians like you for a midday snack. Literally. You have no chance.”

“I'm not like most Equestrians,” she boasted. “I am a prodigy and a revolutionary.”

Snakefang ripped out a snort. “You are a swine.”

“Oh, really? Well, who's the one here who's snorting like one?”

“Bah! Well, how does it feel knowing that I sent my Legions to slaughter your country-folk like pigs right behind you? That the way south is destroyed, and you couldn't save them even if you wanted to?”

Starlight let out a great, malevolent laugh. “That was exactly what we wanted you to do, you stupid idiot!”

Snakefang took a quick step back in surprise. Even from a distance, Starlight could see the shock in his eyes. “What!? WHY!?”

She grinned wide; the chance to brag about her plan's success to her foe filled her with a manic thrill. “I don't care the slightest bit about them or their lives. They served their purpose. They were only ever meant to be bait, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“But… but the mass deaths! The meteor from the sky! GOD IS ON OUR SIDE! WE ARE HIS CHOSEN!”

“Your god doesn't give two rat's asses about you, idiot. In fact, it was your god who gave me these.” She unfolded her wings, letting Snakefang look upon them with wonder before folding them back in. “We sent in Bright to make you think that we were going to betray you by offering you a ceasefire that we knew you'd think was a ruse, so that you'd send everything you could against Luna. We told Luna that the River Styx was safe to drink from, only to pour poison downstream to make her a juicier target, just for good measure. Then, we took your dead daddy's dumb little staff and used it to blow up the bridge so your army would be trapped on the other side!” She laughed again. “We played both you and Luna like a fiddle. Now, Luna won't have any say in what we do once this war is over, and you won't have any say in anything at all.”

Snakefang began fuming with anger. “You.. you… you are a vile, evil, insane, conniving, treacherous, backstabbing, dishonorable witch!”

“I am not vile. I'm beautiful, and everyone with half a brain in their head knows it. You're just jealous.”

The veins in Snakefang's eyes popped, his horn roared with green fire, and spittle foam oozed from the air slits of his helm as he snarled like a rabid wolf. In a seething anger, and at the top of his lungs, he bellowed, “YOU WON'T BE SO PRETTY WHEN YOUR FACE IS BURNED TO ASHES!”

Starlight was engulfed in green fire. She watched it whoosh past her eye and air holes, making her sweat in the intense heat. Quickly, she lit her horn, and launched a flurry of magic missiles through the blaze directly at Snakefang. The fire faded away as Snakefang was forced to defend himself with shields just large enough to block each one. Starlight was shocked at Snakefang's unnatural dexterity and focus, and stopped. Snakefang then charged directly at Starlight, showering her in his own missile flurry. Starlight covered herself from the front with a flat shield. As she watched each missile burst in sparks upon collision, she chuckled at how foolish she'd been in the past for thinking a round bubble was needed for everything.

Starlight lit her horn again, and disappeared in a flash of greenish-blue light, then reappeared some distance away to Snakefang's left side. It was then that Starlight performed one of her new tricks: small, concentrated, piercing magical bolts that hit their targets in the blink of an eye. Snakefang blocked them as he turned around and charged at her. She could only fire one every few seconds, but thanks to her training, each bolt flew straight and true. Snakefang's shield began to flicker, so he set magical protection aside for the moment, ducking and dodging from the bolts instead. Starlight was amazed at how quick he was, and missed her mark once. Snakefang seized the initiative, launching a blizzard of cutting spells at her. She protected herself again with a frontal shield, but she grew tired as the barrage made her own energy falter.

Snakefang was in close. Starlight could see the bloodshot whites of Snakefang's eyes. She focused on those eyes, and with magic, she grabbed a clump of sand from the ground and threw it in them. While Snakefang was distracted with getting it out, Starlight leaped at him and raised a hoof up for a grand punch, augmented by magic. But Snakefang made a stride to his right, and Starlight's hoof smashed the ground, making the earth shake. Snakefang lunged at her, collided with her, and pinned her to the ground. Starlight was now on her side with her head and legs fixed in place by Snakefang's green aura. She tried to jerk her head and legs about, but they wouldn't budge. Snakefang raised up his hoof and bashed her in the side of the head, again and again and again. Starlight's helm kept her skull intact, but the assault still left her with a blistering headache and ears bombarded with the clanging of metal. She lit her horn, putting all the energy she could into breaking that bond. It was hard, and Starlight felt her consciousness slipping away with each blow at her head. This might have been the end. But in her desperation, she found untapped strength. She shattered Snakefang's hold on her, and rolled on her back. With a hoof, she made a magic-aided strike at Snakefang's head. Snakefang was blown back, and Starlight squeezed out a teleportation spell to distance herself from Snakefang.

After she was back on her hooves and a fair distance away from Snakefang, she took a breather. She regained lucidity and strength with each new breath. She tasted blood in her mouth, so she spat it out. Gold, silky ichor sprayed out from her helm's air slits to the ground. Snakefang got back up on his hooves and spat out his own red blood. They continued fighting.

Snakefang launched another flurry of cutting spells at Starlight. Starlight made a frontal shield. As Starlight's shield was pummeled with cutting spells, she felt her energy fade. She looked to a spot right beside Snakefang, cocked her rear legs up to buck, then disappeared in a flash of light. After reappearing beside Snakefang, she unleashed her kick. Snakefang ducked, and engulfed Starlight in green fire before tackling her, making her fall down on her side. Snakefang stopped the fire, then raised a hoof and punched Starlight in the chest. She felt the air in her lungs pushed out, and pain piercing through, but her chest-plate kept her ribs intact. Snakefang's hoof was raised up for another strike, but Starlight rolled out of the way, bolting back up on her hooves while Snakefang's hoof hit the ground, and lighting her horn to attack. A great hail of missiles assaulted Snakefang from up close, and although he blocked most of it, a few hits were made in his chest and legs, leaving charred and blackened holes in his armor, through his skin, into his immense muscles. Snakefang, in a last ditch effort, made another lunge at Starlight. But Starlight leapt left and cocked her legs back, then made a mighty magic-aided buck aimed at his head. Her right leg missed, but her left leg hit dead center in Snakefang's horn, snapping the appendage off from its base and shattering the attached viper to pieces. The horn now dangled by a shred of torn metal from Snakefang's helm. Blood gushed from the severed artery. Snakefang fell down on his side. He was left jerking and flailing wildly on the ground, gargling on his own foaming spittle, his eyes rolled back so that only bloodshot whites were visible.

Starlight lit her horn one last time, and ripped Snakefang's mark from his flank, through his armor. It was an image of a viper digging its fangs into a helpless rat. Starlight grinned with sadistic glee, and split one of its atoms, causing an implosion that tore the fabric of the Mundane and formed a vacuum that sucked Snakefang into the fringes of Tartarus where neither light nor sound could travel, yet mammals could breathe, if only barely. There, Snakefang would drift for eternity in a black, empty, freezing abyss from which there was no escape, blind and deaf while suffering a violent and unending seizure.

Starlight then closed the rift and looked up to the legionaries on the walls, who were watching the whole time. A rush of excitement shook her to the bone. Some of the legionaries had gaped mouths, some were muttering to each other, and a few smiled, just happy for the entertainment.

A flash of gold appeared beside Starlight. She looked to it, and saw Imperator walking up to her. Once he was close, he slid a forehoof underneath hers and lifted up her foreleg.

With Starlight's foreleg held in the air, Imperator looked up to the walls to shout, “Victor!”

After “victor” was done echoing through the air, the air loomed with silence.

Then, one of the First Cohort Centurions broke the silence when he started chanting, “Glimmer! Glimmer! Glimmer! Glimmer!”

That Centurion was first joined by his entire Century. Then, the entire First Cohort. Then, the entire Second Legion. The chanting boomed from the walls, adding to Starlight's excitement. Her foreleg was let back down. Starlight lifted up her visor and tapped Imperator on his neck so he could see the enormous smile on her face. Once he looked to her, he lifted his own visor and showed her his own smile, smaller but no less joyous. Starlight looked into his eyes, kissed him on the lips, then put her visor back down.

The chanting stopped. Imperator put his own visor back down, then turned to address his old Legion. “Centurions of the First Cohort. Form a single line in front of me. Double time.”

The Centurions did as he commanded, leaving gaps in their Centuries' formations and standing side by side to be addressed.

Imperator walked up directly in front of the Centurion on the far left, looked him in his steel blue eyes, and spoke. “You. You are the one who started the applause?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“And did you, by any chance, like Snakefang?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“He performed his duties in a slovenly manner unbecoming of an Imperial Wärmarschal and indulged himself in various sorts of vile degeneracy, sir.”

Imperator nodded. “Rest assured that I will make a far superior Wärmarschal. Now, what is your name, Centurion?”

“My name is Freezing Sword, sir.”

“How would you like to be Legate Freezing Sword?”

“I would very much like that, sir!”

“Very good. Looks like I have two dubbings to perform now. Bow your head, Centurion.”

The Centurion did as commanded.

Imperator looked down at the Centurion to speak. “By my power and authority as Wärmarschal of the Third Reich, I bestow upon you the rank of Legate. The Second Legion is now yours to command. May you lead him to victory and glory on the battlefield. May you be an example for your Legion to follow, brave, strong, fearless, and deadly. May you bestow pain, terror, and despair to all those who would oppose the Third Reich, and may you keep your legionaries well disciplined so they may do the same. Arise, Sir Freezing Sword, Legate of the Second Legion.” He tapped the Centurion's withers with his horn. “Duty. Honor. Courage. Everlasting loyalty.”

Legate Freezing Sword then lifted his head. “Those who oppose equality will fear our wrath, sir.” He saluted Imperator. Imperator returned the salute.

Imperator took a few steps back to address the Centurions once again. “All of you. Return to your Centuries. Legate Sword is your commander now. He is to answer to me, and you are to answer to him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” they said in unison.

“Then you are dismissed.”

The Centurions saluted him with a “Sir!” then did as they were told.

Starlight walked up to Imperator and asked, “Wait, so, they're completely on our side now?”

“Correct,” he replied.

“Well, that was easy.”

“I was not the only one who wanted change, it seems.”

“I thought you were going to do a speech.”

“No. That is intended for another time.”

“Okay. So, who's getting the second dubbing?”

“You.”

She chuckled and put a hoof to her chest. “Me?”

“Yes. You. Now, bow your head, if you please.”

Starlight chuckled again, then bowed her head. “Okay.”

Imperator looked down to Starlight. “By my power and authority as Wärmarschal of the Third Reich, I bestow upon you the title of honorary Imperial, for you have demonstrated worth far beyond the lowly barbarian. May you long find joy and comfort in life. May you long have luck and success in all your ambitions. May you live long, eat well, and sleep soundly. And may you find ample pleasure in watching your enemies scream and wail as they suffer anguish in unthinkable measure. Arise, Madam Starlight Glimmer, honorary Imperial.” He tapped Starlight's withers with his horn. “Duty. Honor. Courage. Everlasting loyalty.”

After lifting her head back up, she said, “So, what about the city?”

“It is ours now.”

“Surrender?”

“No. Defection.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “Defection? You mean it's not just this Legion that's defecting to us, but the whole city, too?”

“Correct. The Secret Service is on our side, and they have seized the city's citadel.”

“What? The Secret Service? You mean their spy slash secret police force? That Secret Service?”

“Yes. The very same.”

Starlight let out an airy chuckle. “Well, that's great, bu-… but why?”

“The Grand Dragon – the head – of the Secret Service has taken a liking to us, and she sees us as a better alternative to the Kaiser. But she wanted to wait and see if you would be successful in your duel before she decided for sure. And clearly, you were successful.”

“Wait. She?”

“Yes. The Secret Service is an all-female organization.”

“Why didn't you tell me this before?”

“It never came up.” He paused. “She waits for us in the mayor's office. I would suggest you change into your civilian regalia.”

“Why? What's wrong with this?”

“It is dented in the head and chest. And it is stained with your ichor.”

“Oh! Right. Wouldn't want to make a bad first impression, after all. Where will you be?”

“I will be examining the citadel's other main rooms. Armory, dungeon, et cetera. And I will be bringing Miss Master with me.”

Starlight nodded. “Okay. And I'll meet you, her and the Grand Dragon in the mayor's office. At, say, in the evening?”

“Evening is satisfactory.”

Starlight started her way back to the camp to change her clothes. “And I'll bring Sucker Pop with me. I want you, Checkmate, and the Grand Dragon to all see her glorious transformation.”

Imperator followed Starlight; he needed to go to the camp to get Checkmate. “I look forward to it.”

Sgt. Lightning Dust surely had the most powerful wings in the world by now. She was on her hundredth one-winged wing pushup in one of her sets of two-hundred. Exercise kept the bad thoughts away, and kept her from dwelling on the dank, rat-infested jail cell, which she was locked into by rusty iron bars. Her cell was no different from Pvt. Rainbow Dash's, or any of her other squadmates' cells, but she was still given special meals that gave her the energy to do this.

Poor Pvt. Dash. She was in the cell in front of Sgt. Dust's cell. Her body was so withered away that her ribs could be seen at a casual glance. All she ever did was lay in fetal position, huddled in a corner with her crippling trauma, only alive because the guards force-fed her.

Half of the squad was missing, tortured to death by Snakefang for no reason other than his own entertainment. Ever since her first “date” with Snakefang, Sgt. Dust had been demoted from “pet” to “toy”. It drove her ever deeper into her exercise-driven escapism. But let's look on the bright side. He made an excellent coach.

At pushup number one-hundred-thirty-three, Sgt. Dust heard strange sounds from down the hall. The sound of hoofsteps, and two unusual voices. One was a cold, soft-spoken female voice with a weird foreign accent. The other was a booming Imperial voice that rumbled so deep, deep even by Imperial standards, that it hurt her eardrums.

She stopped her exercise and peered down the hall to check what was going on. The first thing she saw was a giant alicorn, clad in a bulky suit of white armor with a cape of shimmering gold, a saber-toothed skull for a head with golden glass plates for eyes, and a plume of fire.

Next to him walked a blue unicorn who wore a toga as gray as her eyes, and a bronze crown of thorny branches on her head. Sgt. Dust heard about those crowns. Only important Wastelanders wore those. She decided that whatever conversation they were having, it was worth eavesdropping on.

“… she says she will fix her brain,” the alicorn said.

“The retard?”

The alicorn nodded. “Yes. The retard.”

“But wasn't her lobotomy botched to begin with?”

“It was.”

The unicorn sighed. “I'm really, really skeptical.”

“And I as well, Miss Master. But Miss Glimmer has a knack for pleasant surprises. She may yet have the bite to go with her bark.”

“What? So you wouldn't be surprised?”

“Oh, of course I would be surprised. Such an act would be miraculous even for her. But then, her exceeding my expectations is, in and of itself, becoming an expectation…”

The two eventually got close to Sgt. Dust. They stopped their conversation and looked at her as they walked in front of her cell and turned to her. The two stared at her with their unfeeling gazes. Sgt. Dust found the unicorn, in particular, to be disconcerting.

“This one looks traumatized,” the unicorn said.

“Hm.”

“She looks well-fed for an Imperial prisoner.”

“That she does. Can you tell us your name, prisoner?”

Sgt. Dust didn't respond.

“We do not seek to hurt you, child,” the alicorn said. “We wish to set you free and return you to your home.”

Sgt. Dust meekly asked, “Why?”

“As a sign of good faith to the Equestrians,” the unicorn replied. “You do us no good rotting in this dungeon, and you wouldn't do us any good dead, either. This way, everyone benefits.”

“Well… what happened to Sna-… Snaaay…”

“Snakefang?” the alicorn asked.

Sgt. Dust nodded.

“Snakefang has been brought to justice. You need not ever worry about him again.”

“Wait… so… he's dead?”

“Worse.”

Sgt. Dust breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh of relief as she got up on her hooves and grinned, as if she, herself, was the one who did it. “Thanks. I hated that bastard.”

“What did he do to you, anyway?”

Her smile went away. “He… well, he… y'know… forced… himself… on… me.”

The alicorn nodded. “I see. He did have a thing for good-looking young pegasi. Now, your name, please.”

“Lightning Dust.”

“It is a pleasure meeting you, Lightning Dust. You may call me Imperator. This mare next to me is Checkmate Master.”

Checkmate put on a polite smile. “Hello there, Lightning Dust.”

“Yeah, ditto. Look, big guy. Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Imperator said.

“I don't wanna go back home.”

“You don't? Why not?”

Sgt. Dust sighed. “Well, y'know. I got my dreams crushed back home. Wanted to be a Wonderbolt. That didn't pan out because of a certain cunt named Rainbow Dash.”

“Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“We have met once or twice.”

Sgt. Dust winced. “Alright. Well, anyway, after I was kicked out of the Wonderbolts, I joined the Mobile Infantry. Made it to sergeant. Then the war happened. Got sent to ambush Snakefang. The bastard was a lot tougher than we thought he was. My CO wanted us to commit suicide on him. So I killed my CO, bastard took me prisoner, and here we are.”

“I see. So sending you back would mean execution or a prison sentence for you.”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“Well, what would you have us do with you instead?”

“I wanna work for you.”

“Hm. You would work for me?”

“Yes. I would.”

“You betrayed your own chain of command once. Why should I think you would not do it again?”

“To tell you the truth, the MI blows. And I'd do you better as more of a freelance agent.”

“And what skill set do you have to offer in that regard?”

Sgt. Dust scoffed, then smiled. “Are you kidding me? Just take a look at these babies!” She extended her wings. Her strong, powerful wings. Checkmate raised her eyebrows, and her mouth went slightly agape. “I'm not finished, either.” She presented her flank to them, and flexed her rippling legs, withers, and glutes. “Boom! Look at that, baby. How's that for a skill set?”

“I must say,” Imperator said, “your physique is remarkable. Like an Imperial with wings. And you are a leader of a squad, so I assume you have experience and at least a modicum of leadership skill.”

Sgt. Dust chuckled. “You know how good I was? I could talk smack to my immediate CO's, and because I was so good, their immediate CO's told them to shut their mouths and take it.”

“That speaks well of your soldiering prowess, sure, but it speaks poorly of your ability to handle authority. And one thing I will never tolerate in my armed forces is insubordination.”

“Look, are you gonna give me stupid lectures on how hurting civilians is wrong? Or how it's my moral duty to share rations with starving brats? Or how I should accept being bossed around by prissy little fillies because they went to college?”

“Of course not. I run an army, not a daycare center.”

“Then I think we'll get along just fine.”

“Hmm… well, I do need an errand boy. Of course, an errand girl would work just as well, especially one with your particular features…” He was silent for a moment. “Very well. You will be my personal agent, outside the regular military hierarchy. You will be given fair amount of autonomy, and you will have your own squad of high-quality pegasus soldiers – real soldiers, no soft-hearted wannabes – at your behest. You and they will be equipped with only the best arms and armor, and you will only be restricted insofar as it is essential. And in return, I will give you a lavish paycheck, and outstanding benefits. Do we have a deal, Miss Dust?”

Lightning Dust laughed, then smiled wide. “You kidding me? Just stop calling me 'Miss' and it'll be a dream come true!”

Imperator nodded. “I am glad we could come to an agreement, Lightning Dust.”

“Alright, awesome! Now, just get the keys and lemme out of here, would you?”

Imperator's horn charged up. “Keys are not necessary.” His horn launched a piercing bolt at the door's rusted lock. The lock was shattered into pieces, and the door swung open from the shock. “These doors are rusty, anyway. I would like them replaced.”

Lightning Dust laughed again. “Man, you are so cool!”

“Mmm. Come with me now, child. I will free the other prisoners now, and prepare them for their return to Equestria. Then, I will introduce you to my dearest Starlight Glimmer.”

“Starlight Glimmer? Who's that?”

“Leader and founder of the cause.”

“What cause would that be?”

“A ruthless, militaristic, dogmatic, totalitarian dictatorship that seeks to stamp out free will the world over, unifying and assimilating all of ponykind into a single-minded collective by brainwashing and brute force, and purging all that cannot be assimilated in holy fire. Interested?”

“Woah. That is wicked.” She grinned devilishly. “Count me in.”

“Good. Now, as a sign of good faith to you, I will let you decide the fate of your old squadmates.”

“Rainbow Dash is one of them. She's right there.” Lightning Dust pointed to the cell in front of her, where Rainbow Dash laid catatonic in fetal position. “I don't care about the others, but there's something I want done with her.”

“Killed?”

“No. Worse.”

“You will have to be more specific.”

“Alright.” Lightning Dust swaggered out of her cell, between Checkmate and Imperator, then looked at Rainbow Dash, letting mirth swell within her. Checkmate and Imperator turned around, then also looked at Rainbow Dash.

“I remember her being a little more spry,” Imperator said.

“Eh. She was all yap. Now, I want you to tear off her wings. Then, I want you to sear the wounds shut. Then, I want you to send her back home with the others.”

“Consider it done.”

Imperator charged his horn, then blasted the lock on Rainbow Dash's cell. The door swung open, and as Lightning Dust followed Imperator into the cell, Rainbow Dash was lifted up in a golden aura to face the two.

Rainbow Dash looked up at Imperator, and her eyes grew wide. “Wh-… wh-… you?”

“Ah. So you do remember me.”

“You… you a-… and that other one. You started this war.”

“We did.”

“Y-you told us you were our friends.”

“We lied.”

With that, Rainbow Dash's wings were ripped from their sockets with the snapping of ligaments, followed by Rainbow Dash's screams, and they were thrown into one corner of the room. Rainbow Dash cried as blood gushed from the open wounds in her back. She was then pinned to the ground. Imperator lifted a forehoof in front of his face and burned it with fire from his own horn. Once the plate glowed red, Imperator magically pinched the first wound shut and pressed his hoof on it, making Rainbow Dash wail and shake as smoke raised up from the searing flesh. The wound was closed shut in a horseshoe-shaped burn scar. Imperator raised his hoof in front of his face once more, and reapplied the heat. He then pressed it on the second wound, making Rainbow Dash scream in pain once again. Once he was finished, Imperator took his red-hot hoof off Rainbow Dash's back, and cooled it with a chilly blue mist from his horn. The open wounds were now gone; burn scars had taken their place.

Finally, Rainbow Dash was released from Imperator's magical grip, and Imperator snapped his gaze to the wings, themselves. He unleashed fire on them. Rainbow Dash watched in horror as they were burned to ashes in front of her. Once finished, Imperator turned away, walking out of the cell and out of the dungeon, motioning Lightning Dust to do the same. Lightning and Checkmate followed Imperator out, all the while listening to Rainbow's sobs echoing through the hall.

Lightning Dust chuckled. “Well, that's one way to serve up hot wings.”

Starlight waited in front of the marble double-door, with Sucker Pop standing next to her. The marechild hummed a happy tune to herself. It was a tune unfamiliar to Starlight, so she couldn't join in, but she listened intently. Here, Starlight stood, certain that this would be Sucker Pop's last day of being a hapless marechild.

Hoofsteps echoed down the hall behind Starlight. She looked down the hall. Imperator had just turned around the corner, with Checkmate to his right, and some scrappy-looking teal pegasus mare to his left. Starlight walked up to the trio, curious about this strange mare, with Sucker Pop following beside her. Once they were close, the pegasus looked up to Imperator to speak.

“So, this is her? This is Starlight Glimmer?” She spoke with an Equestrian accent.

“Correct,” he replied. He looked to Starlight, then patted the pegasus on the back. “This is Lightning Dust. She works for us now.”

Starlight smirked. “Oh, does she?”

“She does. As my own personal assistant. Do introduce yourself.”

Starlight drew her gaze to Lightning Dust. “So, he's decided to get himself an errand girl. And just how are you this fine day?”

“Pretty good. The big guy tells me you're the one who did Snakefang in. Is that true?”

“It is.” Starlight stuck her chest out and smiled wider. “I beat the Empire's top general in a duel, fair and square.”

“Aww, man! That is so badass! I can't thank you enough. He did some really bad things to me a whole bunch of times. Whatever you did to him, I hope it was painful.”

“Oh, trust me. It was. So, tell me. Are you in this for the cause, or a paycheck?”

“I was promised a big paycheck. But you guys did me some huge favors, and to be honest, I'm kinda grateful. I dunno much about your cause. I was never really that into causes. But the job sounds nice, the pay looks good, and my boss is an alicorn super-soldier in really cool armor who'll let me do pretty much whatever I want. It's safe to say I'm feeling pretty loyal.”

“Mhm.” She looked back to Imperator. “She's quite the mercenary. You sure you want her as a personal aide?”

“Oh, of course, there will have to be some trust-building before I have her do anything important. Just to get a feel for her. I can always let her go if she proves too unscrupulous.”

Lightning Dust looked up to Imperator. “How do you mean, 'let go'?”

“I mean fired,” he replied. “Literally, if I feel like it. So I suggest you work within your already generous bounds.”

A gulp of spit went down Lightning Dust's throat, and her lips pursed. “What? Isn't that illegal or something?”

“You are not bound by regular military protocol. That means, in respect to you, neither am I.”

Starlight tensed one corner of her mouth. “I don't know about this. Seems too sketchy to me. Just what do you plan on doing with her, anyway?”

He replied, “Small-scale operations. Seizing important objects, eliminating important targets, et cetera.”

“Are you sure you need a mercenary?”

“Bounty hunters are very useful,” Checkmate interjected. “I know I've made some good use of them, myself, in the past. They're a great way to silence someone without leaving direct links to yourself. Someone quick and fast like her can snuff a target real quick and leave him dead before anyone's the wiser.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Imperator said, “Threats from within our realm are just as, if not more dangerous than threats from without. A mercenary bound only by personal contract will ensure that such threats are easily dealt with. Additionally, the bureaucratic nature of formal government organizations is easily bypassed with such an agent. Ah, that reminds me.” He looked to Lightning Dust. “We will need to discuss a formal contract, for your signature. I would like the terms of our agreement codified in print. I would not wish to punish you for violating expectations that have not been made clear to you.”

Lightning Dust sighed. “Fair enough. Can't have everything, I guess.” She smirked. “Still a pretty awesome deal.”

“Enough waiting,” Starlight said. She pointed to the double-door. “The Grand Dragon is behind those doors, and I want to meet her.”

Imperator gestured to the door. “By all means, dear. Open it.”

Starlight whipped herself around to face the double-door. With a magical push, she flung the doors open. There, she saw the Grand Dragon, a sky-blue, Imperial mare, looking at her with red eyes, leaning back on a silver throne with her front hooves at the back of her head, and her back legs crossed, resting on a slave's back. She was dressed in a blue satin robe with golden lining; her pointed hood was laid on one of the throne's armrests. The Grand Dragon looked at her with confident red eyes, and a smirk so pointedly, infuriatingly smug, that she couldn't help but admire it. Starlight thought that perhaps this was something she could emulate in the future.

The Grand Dragon touched the tips of her front hooves together over her chest. “Hello there, Starlight. I was wondering when I'd see you again.”

“I'm sorry,” Starlight said. “Who are you?”

“You don't recognize me?” She kicked the slave in front of her out of the way, sending him falling to the ground, then stood up and walked up to Starlight. “You don't recognize that mare from Brustworth who told you about the Fireball Races?”

Starlight pieced it together. She started to recognize that gruff cadence, those fiery red eyes, and the cool coat that contrasted with them. The surprise left her speechless for a moment. She muttered, “Shattered Bones.”

“There you are! Shattered Bones. Grand Dragon of the Secret Service, who happened to be on vacation in her own hometown, which was the only reason why she lowered herself to speak with the lowly barbarian tourist and her moronic servant in the first place. By the way, what happened to him?”

Starlight hesitated. “I'm not really sure.”

“That was a rhetorical question.” She turned her head to the left side and shouted, “Unleash the package!”

Starlight and the rest of her party looked to the side. There, a white-cloaked Secret Service agent magically held a wooden rectangular box roughly the size of a regular stallion, kept shut by latches. The latches were undone, and the box's contents were dumped on the ground. A unicorn stallion's dried husk of a body laid there, rotten well beyond the point of emitting stench. Starlight noticed a faint image on its flank. It was an equal mark.

“I forget,” Imperator said, “what was his name again?”

“Party Favor,” Starlight replied.

“Ah. Right.” Imperator looked to Shattered Bones. “So, was he dead when you found him, or did you kill him?”

“Dead when we found him,” Bones replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I ask because Miss Glimmer was not completely convinced when I told her of his death. Not even when I explained to her how unlikely it was that he survived the fall.”

“You'd be surprised how survivable hundred story drops can be,” Starlight said.

“She's right, you know,” Bones said. “I get why you didn't check to make sure – because you really couldn't – but still, deep chasms make surprisingly poor deathtraps.”

“I will be honest,” Imperator said, “I really did not care too much about killing him. He was not important. I would have simply ripped his head off if he were. I just wanted to make things a bit more interesting.”

“Speaking of interesting… in Cordelphi, you told one of my agents that you think I might be your daughter. Is this true?”

“It is,” he replied.

“What!?” Starlight and Checkmate exclaimed in unison. They looked at each other. Checkmate's eyes were wide, and so were Starlight's. As far as they knew, it was entirely out of nowhere.

“You know,” Bones said, “I have a stepfather. I was told that my real father died. You would not be a deserter, would you?”

“I am afraid so. But I did redeem myself.”

Bones scowled. “You did, did you? Then how are you still alive?”

“I was resurrected.” He pointed to Starlight. “She is a witness. You need not take my word for it.”

“Hm.” Bones looked to Starlight. “Is it true?”

Starlight nodded. “It is. He dueled Princess Twilight Sparkle on the peak of Mount Athon, then died of his injuries after he won.” She waved a hoof whimsically. “Then, he was brought back to life before my own eyes. His coat turned white, his eyes turned gold, and his wrinkles vanished.”

“Now, what was he doing fighting the child-princess?”

Starlight tapped her own chest with a hoof. “He was protecting me. This was shortly before we were ascended to alicornhood.”

“Mmm. And who was it that rose the dead and made you two alicorns?”

“Your own god.”

Bones took a quiet moment of contemplation, then drew a deep breath and looked up to the heavens. Afterwards, she looked back to Starlight. “The last time God ever raised the dead was in the First Reich's war against the Diarchs. And the last time He ascended a mere mortal to alicornhood was when He made Planetvoid His prophet in the Wasteland at the founding of the Second Reich. If what you say is true, the-” She hesitated. “Then this is no petty war of conquest. This is the birth of a true Third Reich!” She snapped her gaze to Imperator. “Now I must know if I am your daughter. If that is true, then you can make me an alicorn.” She grinned. “I will be a goddess!”

“Now hold on,” Imperator said. “What makes you being my daughter a prerequisite for me granting you alicornhood? And even if it is, why would I want to grant it to you?”

“Well,” Starlight interjected, “I happen to know quite a bit about alicorn lore. I think I get where she's coming from.”

“Very well then,” Imperator said, “do enlighten us.”

“Alright. But I want that corpse out of here, first. It's unsightly.”

Bones looked to the left side and commanded, “Remove the package.” She watched the secret agent magically lift the corpse back up, stuff it back in the box, then latch the box shut.

The secret agent levitated the box up. “Where do you want it, Grand Dragon?”

“In the landfill.”

The secret agent saluted the Grand Dragon, then carried the box with her out of the room, through the double-door entrance.

“Anyway,” Starlight began. “There are three ways an alicorn can be created. The first is for a mortal to be given ascension by a god, or an extremely powerful magical artifact. The second is biologically, either by an alicorn mating pair or by a female alicorn paired with a very powerful male unicorn, although the latter only has about a one in four chance of producing an alicorn. The third is for an alicorn to give ascension to a mortal, but this is unstable, produces a relatively weak alicorn even when it works, and can only be done once in a very long while. But here's the interesting part: The closer the mortal subject is to the alicorn by blood, the more stable the process, the more powerful the alicorn is likely to become, and the less time the other alicorn has to wait to do it again.”

“I see,” Imperator said. “But how do you explain Cadence and Sparkle being ascended within fifty years?”

Starlight shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Very well then.” He looked to Bones. “So, do you have a blood test ready?”

“I do,” she replied. At her horn's glow, she drew a slip of orange paper from a fold in her robe. “You know how this works, don't you?”

“The two blood samples go on top of the paper. The paper is lit on fire. Blue fire means they are related, any other color means not.”

“Pretty much. So, you have a knife with you?”

“I am afraid not.”

Bones drew two shiny, razor-sharp knives out from her robe. “You may borrow one of mine.”

“Very well.”

They exchanged magical grips on one of the knives. Imperator then undid the armor on one of his front legs, letting the pieces fall to the ground, revealing the flesh and blood appendage. Bones and Imperator then stretched out their front legs, and held the edges of their blades onto them. With one swift stroke, the two cut themselves, letting blood and ichor spill on the ground in small, steady streams. Bones then moved the paper, first under her own stream, then under Imperator's, then into the fiery plume on Imperator's helm. Once it was alight, Bones retracted it from the plume, and watched as it was consumed in azure flame. Bones looked at the flame with a serene smile.

She looked up at him, and whispered, “Father.”

“My child. My daughter, Grand Dragon of the Secret Service. And at such a young age. I am deeply proud of you.”

She was quiet for a moment, and a single tear welled from one of her eyes. As the tear ran down her face, she took a deep breath that shook with joy. “I… I always thought you'd be. I always wanted to make you proud despite thinking you were… dead.”

“I am alive now, my child. Now, hold your tongue for one moment. I wish to see you with my own eyes.” He lifted up his visor, then he smiled, and looked into her eyes. “You are beautiful. Prime Imperial stock.”

“I know, father.”

“While I was away, I was exposed to many xenos customs. There is one I would like to share with you. A gesture of affection.”

“I'd like to see it.”

Imperator set his knife aside on the ground and walked up close to his daughter. “Stand on your hind legs and embrace me with your front legs.”

Bones hesitated at first, but then dropped her knife, stood herself up, and embraced her father, who wrapped his unarmored front leg around her, running it up and down her back all the while.

“This feels good,” Bones said. She rubbed her cheek against her father's neck.

“They call it a 'hug'. Miss Glimmer taught it to me.”

“I'm glad she did.”

They held each other for a good long time. Bones closed her eyes, holding her dad tighter and tighter. Eventually, her dad kissed her on the cheek, and they broke the hug.

“That was really sweet,” Starlight said.

Imperator extended his unarmored leg, which no longer bled, then lit his horn, lifting the pieces of leg armor off the ground and cladding the appendage back into it. He then put it back down, closed his visor, and looked to Starlight. “We only have you to thank, dear. Now, I believe there is one more thing for us to do.”

“What about my alicornhood?” Bones asked.

“We will discuss it later,” Imperator replied. He looked to Starlight. “I would like to see you repair the marechild's brain.”

Starlight nodded. “Alright.” She looked over to Sucker Pop. “You ready to have your old mind back, sweetie?”

Sucker Pop gasped, then let out a shrill shriek with a big smile on her face. “Yes, mommy! I want it back! Mommy give it back!”

“Okay. Now, just close your eyes, and think happy thoughts.”

Sucker Pop did as she was told. Starlight lit her horn, and touched the tip of it on Sucker Pop's head, and it now glowed with greenish-blue light. Vibrations emanated from the point where her horn touched. The buzzing sound of brain matter being restored filled the air. Once Starlight felt that her task was done, she unlit her horn and withdrew it.

Starlight leaned her head close to Sucker Pop's ear to whisper. “Open your eyes now, sweetie.”

Sucker Pop slowly opened her eyes, then blinked several times. Then, she looked around the room. Her right eye was no longer crooked. It now moved in synthesis with the other eye. Sucker Pop's breathing grew shallow and rapid, and she grinned a wide grin.

“My eye! It works! I can see depth! It… it's so wonderful. And… and I remember words to songs. And I don't talk like a baby anymore. And I can do basic algebra in my head!” She looked to Starlight with tears in her eyes. “Oh, thank you, Starlight! Thank you.”

Starlight looked around at the others in the room. Everyone looked at her with jaws dropped, and eyes as wide as plates, possibly except for Imperator, whose helm covered his face.

Sucker Pop continued. “I owe my life to you, Starlight! How can I ever repay you?”

Starlight looked at Imperator with a smug smirk. “Well, Mister Cynical. Looks like you were wrong. What do you have to say now?”

Imperator hesitated. “What do I have to say?” He looked at her silently. “I do not know what to say.”

Starlight chuckled. “Say, 'Starlight, you are the smartest, cutest, all-around best pony in the whole world, and I love you.'”

“Oh, come now. This moment is already saccharine enough without me getting all sappy with you. I am already getting nauseated as it is.”

Lightning Dust gagged. “Me, too!”

“Me three,” Checkmate added.

Starlight scoffed. “Fine. Go ahead. Be a bunch of stiffs. I'm going to spend some quality time with Sucker Pop.”

“Before you go,” Imperator said, “I must tell you something.”

“Really? Like what?”

“It is about my battle-brothers' and battle-sisters' marks. I would ask you to leave them alone.”

“And why should I?”

“I have boiled it down to two reasons. Will you listen?”

Starlight sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Only because it's you.”

“Very well. Here is the first reason. We are a race born and bred for war and violence. And as such, the cosmos grant us marks that reflect this purpose. If you were to take that away, then you would be putting a damper on our ability to enforce equality both without and within the Commonwealth.”

Starlight nodded. “Okay. What else?”

“The second reason is that even if you were to take away their marks, their very physiologies would prevent them from being truly equal. They would still be easily distinguishable from the others at a glance, and their physical and mental attributes would still remain strongly different. You would have to slaughter them wholesale, which would be nearly impossible even with their marks removed, and utterly unpragmatic. And since the highest echelons of government are already keeping their marks for pragmatism's sake, any argument for ideological purity would be moot.”

“That's a good point. Hmm… you know what? Fine. I'll leave them alone. But only on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want their existence to be conspicuous.”

“Please elaborate.”

“You have the Secret Service here, right? Well, I want your folks to be a literal secret service. I want their existence to be hidden. Knowledge of their existence should be restricted on a need-to-know basis. I can definitely see how useful they are for keeping our rules enforced and our armies effective, but I also can't let the masses know that there's an entire race of ponies within our Commonwealth that's keeping their cutie marks. You're the only Imperial I want known to the public, and even then, I don't want you publicly identified as such.”

“Because my alicornhood makes any physiological difference moot.”

She nodded again. “Right. And…” She gave him a playful nudge. “I'd hate to have to go to social-political gatherings without you. Going to those things alone looks terrible. And I'll be frank here. Having a big, burly guy like you – not to mention the only male alicorn in the known world – with me will make all the other mares jealous.” She chuckled fiendishly. “Yeah, let them feel not-so-special for once. See how they like it.”

“Is my appearance really that exceptional?”

“Well, you know, compared to Wasteland stallions, Equestrian stallions are rather… how to put this… effete. Probably has a lot to do with how much this place sucks. That goes triple for Imperial stallions.”

“Ah. I see.”

“So, your guys get to keep their cutie marks, but they have to be kept out of sight. We'll put them in really tall buildings with tinted windows so they can feel important. Do we have a deal?”

“An excellent deal. I accept.”

“But wait,” Bones interjected. “If I am made an alicorn, will you let me be known to the public, too?”

Starlight put a hoof on her chin in thought. “Hm. You know what? I will. But only if you're made an alicorn. So I suggest you make a good impression on your dad here.”

Bones put on a beaming smile. “Oh, of course I will!” She embraced him in another hug. “I love him already.”

“Okay, then. I'll see you, Bones, when we move out in the morning. And I'll see you, Wanderer, in the mayoral bedchamber at bedtime.” She turned around to the double-door and started her way out, motioning Sucker Pop to follow her. “Come with me, sweetie. I'd like to get a feel for what's really in that noggin of yours.”

Sucker Pop rushed up beside Starlight. “Yes, Starlight. Anything for you!”

Chapter 25

The Imperial capitol was just a day's travel away, and Starlight was eating lunch with Checkmate in her regal tent. A dark-blue light flashed before Starlight's eyes as she swallowed her last spoonful of pomegranate seeds. After the flash, a sealed letter appeared. This seal was the image of a bat hanging upside-down from a crescent moon.

Starlight looked over the table to Checkmate.

Checkmate looked back at her over a glass of red wine. “Who's it from?”

Starlight glanced at the seal. “Princess Luna. I can tell by the seal.”

“Luna? I thought we were done with her.”

“I guess she has some parting words for us.”

Checkmate took a sip from her glass. “I doubt it's worth reading.”

“Likely not.” She peeled off the seal and unfolded the letter. “But there's always the off chance you find something useful in these things.”

“Too true.”

Starlight turned the letter upright. It read:

Dear Starlight Glimmer,

Our forces have been driven from the field. They have been for a while now. Those five Legions who defeated us with ease now come for you. We are aware that the river crossing is now destroyed, but this has not stopped them, only stalled them. By several weeks, according to our estimation.

We would like to update you on the happenings back in your home country.

Our sister's mental state has deteriorated to the point where she has been formally declared unfit to rule, and has been placed under house arrest in a far-off royal retreat in the northernmost fringes of Equestria. I, Luna, will be taking her place as head of state. Cadence has been given control of the sun, as I do not trust myself with it. The corpse of Twilight Sparkle is now in the custody of the royal research and development department, so that we can try to resurrect her, in the hopes that bringing her back to life will help our sister on the road to recovery.

Here is what this means for you, as we are sure that is all you are concerned about.

Our personal disdain for you and those with whom you associate will not take precedence over our duty as this nation's primary executor. We will not attack you militarily, nor will we embargo you, nor will we seek to form political alliances against you. The enemies of Equestria are many, and we would rather not create more, especially not in these dark times. Indeed, we are glad that the openly hostile “Holy” Empire of Styx has been done away with, even if its replacement is less than ideal. A morally questionable trading partner is better than that horrific and violent remnant of a bygone age.

You may have your modernization. You will have no help from the royal coffers, and you will not be given any special consideration from the Crown, but we will not demand that Equestrian firms refuse to deal with you. Indeed, we could use the extra tax revenue.

Our military involvement in this war was done only according to our sister's brash, vengeful, impulsive decree. We had only acceded to this in the hopes that we could have had you as a bona fide ally, if not a loyal vassal of the realm. Although we see now that this was among the loftiest of pipe dreams, and many good lives were lost due to it, we cannot say that we fully regret this decision so long as you remain at least a neutral entity.

So here is our conclusion: We will trade with you. We will accept you in the council of nations. And we will even invite you and any guests you choose to bring (even him) to political gatherings. But that is as far as it goes.

Sincerely,

Her Grand Royal Majesty, Arbiter of Friendship, by Destiny's Grace, Eternal Ruler of Equestria and Her Tributaries, Queen Luna

Starlight set the letter down on the table and looked back to Checkmate, who was taking another sip of her wine.

“So,” Checkmate said, “what does it say?”

“Luna's the Equestrian head of state now.”

Checkmate sighed. “Oh, dear.”

“She calls herself a queen.”

Checkmate took another sip of wine. “Compensating, I guess.”

“Good news is, we can still trade with the Equestrians.”

“Hm. So, they don't know about…”

Starlight shook her head. “I don't think so.”

Checkmate flicked a hoof. “That's likely why. Probably grateful that we helped them exact their revenge.” She sipped her wine.

Starlight smirked. “Yeah. Grateful.”

The sound of ruffling cloth emanated from the tent's entrance. Starlight and Checkmate looked there; Imperator and Shattered Bones had just entered.

Imperator magically pulled a piece of paper out from underneath his cape. “I got a letter.”

“What a coincidence!” Starlight replied. “I got a letter, too. From Luna.”

“Hm. What does it say?”

“Well…” She looked at the letter. “According to 'Her Grand Royal Majesty, Arbiter of Friendship, by Destiny's Grace, Eternal Ruler of Equestria and Her Tributaries, Queen Luna…'”

Bones snickered. “Seriously?”

“I suppose a grandiose title is one way to compensate for a poor reputation,” Imperator said.

“Anyway.” Starlight looked back to Imperator, “Celestia's out. Luna is completely in control now, but she's still going to let us trade with Equestria.”

“Quite fortunate.”

“It is.”

“Hm. So, how is Sucker Pop? Is she useful at all?”

Starlight nodded. “Oh, yes, she's very useful. It turns out that she's a math whiz. She has a doctorate, in fact. And she made robots in her spare time.”

One of Bones' eyes tensed. “Robots? What in God's sterile shithole is a robot?”

Starlight put a hoof to her chin. “Hmm… how do I put extremely cutting edge Equestrian technology in terms that someone from a backwards Ice Age world will understand… Ah!” She put her hoof back down. “Think of them as semi-conscious servants, designed by extremely well-read engineers and mathematicians. They're built out of mechanical steel parts and powered by magical energy shells, from the ground up, for just about any simple, rote mechanical purpose that you can think of.”

“You mean like a slave?”

Starlight nodded. “Yes. Like a slave. But it doesn't need any training, any lobotomies, or any bathroom breaks.”

“How many of these do you have in Equestria?” Imperator asked.

“Almost none. It's still in the prototype stage, and it's not very popular, anyway. Associated with snake oil salesponies, apparently.”

“All the more reason to maximize our own development of this technology.”

“And,” Checkmate added, “if it really is unpopular in Equestria, then we can probably buy their roboticists for a great price. We will suck them dry of robot-related talent and capitalize on it ourselves.”

Bones pointed to Checkmate, still looking at Starlight. “Ooh, she's good.” She looked to Checkmate. “You are the deceased Prime Minister's daughter, correct?”

Checkmate nodded with a smile.

“I heard about you. It takes real skill for a mare to run a country that doesn't let mares in any sort of office.”

Checkmate chuckled. “A male figurehead with limited intelligence makes that a lot easier.”

“I'm curious. What is your purpose in the Commonwealth? Your Byzuntonia won't exist anymore, I'm sure.”

“Director of Education and Propaganda.” She looked to Starlight. “Isn't that right?”

Starlight nodded. “Yep.”

Checkmate looked back to Bones. “And your father will be the head – Marshal is the title – of the army and police forces. You'll still be Grand Dragon of the Secret Service, but you'll be subordinate to him.”

“Do not fret, though,” Imperator added. “The Imperial Legions will be integrated into the Secret Service, as an armed contingent. The Weaponed Secret Service. That is all I will be tending to as far as you are concerned. I will let you continue doing what you do best. And I will assign a delegate for all the other police forces.”

Bones smiled at Imperator. “Thank you, father. And that reminds me. Have you decided on whether or not you will make me an alicorn?”

“You know what?” He raised a hoof, then wrapped it around Bones' chest and pulled her up to him in a squeeze. “I will. I will make you an alicorn. I would hate to see my sole surviving child die of age, especially when she is so outstanding in her own right.” He released her.

Bones unleashed thunderous laughter. “Yes! Godhood! I love you so much. You have my deepest thanks.”

“You earned it.” He looked to Starlight. “Would you like to know what my letter contains now? I think you will appreciate it.”

“We'll see.”

“A formal letter of unconditional surrender from the Kaiser, himself.”

Starlight put on a devilish smirk. “So, that's it, then. The Wasteland is ours now. It's officially conquered.”

“Correct. Total conquest with only one pitched battle and one siege, both of them incredibly one-sided. Quite remarkable, if I do say so myself. Not even Planetvoid ever did so well.”

Starlight's smirk grew. “So I'm even better than Planetvoid.”

“At the risk of being smitten for blasphemy… yes. Yes, you are.”

“My agents tell me he did it under stress from the Praetorians,” Bones said. “I guess bribe money doesn't matter much when everything else is going to hell.”

“Additionally,” Imperator added, “A short while ago, I gave Lightning Dust her first assignment.”

“What?” Starlight asked.

“With the aid of my daughter's secret agents within the Brotherhood of the Sun, she has been sent to kill Elder Big Rat, and all other major leading figures in the Brotherhood. That way, they will be scattered like the rodents they so emulate, and will be picked off more easily by the Secret Service should they ever attempt to act against us.”

Checkmate smiled and rolled her eyes. “So you're not just stabbing Luna in the back, but also Big Rat?”

“Are you surprised?” Starlight replied. “We did a lot of backstabbing to get here. Sort of necessary when you're starting from pretty much nothing.”

“Miss Glimmer is really quite deft with a knife aimed at the back,” Imperator said. “One of the many reasons why I adore her so much.”

Starlight put a hoof on her cheek and leaned her head into it. “Aww, that's so sweet.”

“But wait,” Checkmate said. “I took all that time to write him a speech. Is all that going to waste?”

Imperator shook his head. “I am afraid so. I apologize, Checkmate. It was a very excellent speech.”

Checkmate sighed. “No, no, it's fine. These things happen. It wouldn't the first time.” She took another sip of wine.

The next day, Starlight stood side-by-side with Imperator and Bones, standing in front of the gates of Wenn, whose walls were just as gray and bland as Benn's, but were thicker and had more towers dotted along it. They waited for the Kaiser and his Praetorians to emerge.

Behind them stood Legate Freezing Sword, who was given a brand new suit of armor, which was commissioned by Imperator to the same artisans in Starlightopolis who forged Starlight's armor. The plates glistened with a light-blue hue; they were adorned with metal spikes forged to look like icicles, and emblazoned on both flanks was a white equal mark. His helm had acryllic glass eyeplates, and a plume of sharpened light-blue steel wires.

Behind the Legate stood his First Cohort, behind them stood the rest of the Second Legion, and behind them stood the stone centaurs.

The rattling of chains echoed from the gate, and the gate's doors kicked up dust as they were dragged open. Six Centuries of Praetorians emerged. They were of great stature even by Imperial standards; they were clad in purple plate armor, with purple capes that were outlined in golden thread. Heading them was a single Praetorian, whose horn had a golden thorny branch coiled around it, and whose helm had a golden plume. Next to him, this Praetorian magically dragged a metal red wagon, and in this wagon, a red Imperial stallion laid naked on his large, flabby belly, his legs bound together with ropes. A green apple was stuffed in his mouth, and his open jaws emphasized his sagging double chin. Starlight laughed to herself at this.

As the Praetorians marched towards her, Starlight looked into the obese stallion's pink eyes. They were blank, soulless, and thoughtless. It was no wonder now, why he wasn't resisting. She then looked at his flank. His mark was an image of a pink heart split by a crack.

Once the head Praetorian was within speaking distance, his Praetorian Cohort formed a line behind him.

The head Praetorian saluted Starlight. “Ma'am. I am Head Praetorian Steel Spine. My Guard now presents to you Kaiser Shattered Dreams, for your review, ma'am. His fate is yours to decide.”

Starlight smirked. “You Imperials have an amusingly dark sense of humor. Looks to me like he was lobotomized. Is that true?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Ha, ha! How ironic. Well, I'd really hate to ruin this joke by choosing a bad punchline.” She pointed to Imperator. “Let him decide how he goes out.”

The Head Praetorian looked up to Imperator.

Imperator looked down to the Head Praetorian. “Rost tze schwein. Ayn arsönisch pyre.”

“Az zu dikture.”

The Head Praetorian took a few strides away from the Kaiser, then stood to face him. His horn was then lit ablaze, and the Praetorian sprayed the Kaiser with fire, consuming him in it.

Starlight smiled wide, then looked up to Imperator and asked, “What'd you say to him?”

Imperator looked to Starlight. “Roast the pig in fire.”

Starlight let out a roaring laugh. “That's good! I wish we had black humor in Equestria.”

“I doubt that it does not exist in Equestria. Lightning Dust seems to have a fair grasp on it.”

Starlight looked back to the roasting pig. “Well, if it does, I haven't seen it.”

Imperator did the same. “This reminds me. You are an honorary Imperial now. I will have to teach you Reichschpeak quite soon. I know you think it is an ugly language, but still, it would be useful for you to know.”

“You know, I'm starting to see a sort of charm in Reichschpeak. Sure, it's a bit rough, but it's not all bad.” Although the flames hid the Kaiser for the most part, Starlight could see glimpses of his increasingly charred and blackened countenance. She looked to the Head Praetorian. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost,” he replied. After a little while longer, he stopped the fire. There laid the last Kaiser, an obese, smoldering carcass inside a hot metal wagon, with the blackened fruit still wedged in his mouth. The Head Praetorian then turned to one of his Centuries and spoke. “Centurion. Have one of your tent-groups take this trash to the landfill.”

The Centurion saluted his leader, then issued the order. A line of eight Praetorians peeled off from that Century, lifted up the wagon with the body still inside, then marched in single file to the right side of the city, with their tent-leader in front.

“I would like to know,” Imperator said. “All the Praetorians here are drawn from the First Cohort, as they should be?”

The Head Praetorian nodded. “Jawohl. Every last one of them.”

“If you are truly of the First Cohort, then neither you nor your subordinates will have issue reciting the First Cohort's Creed. Get to it. On tri.” He was silent for a moment. “Wonn… tuwe… tri.”

Every Praetorian held his right forehoof across his chest in straight and rigid form. Then, in unison, they spoke. “We are the most ruthless, the most skilled, the most disciplined soldiers on the face of the planet. We have the hardiest muscle, the fastest reflexes, and unwavering stamina. We have war-cries which make dragons freeze in horror, stomachs which hunger for the screams of the suffering, and gazes which tear souls to ribbons. We are the reapers of the Reich – the First Cohort. There is no foe we cannot defeat. There is no land we cannot conquer. There is no wall we cannot tear asunder. We are strong. We are legion. We do not die – we are death!” After reciting the creed, they let their forehooves back down.

“So,” Starlight said, “did they do it right?”

“They did,” Imperator replied. “Their recital was not only immaculate, but also was done with the harsh roughness that only a real First Cohort could recognize or iterate. These Praetorians are honest and true.”

The Head Praetorian turned to Starlight. “And you are now under the protection of these fine Praetorians. Rest assured that we will guard you well and faithfully from any threat pointed at you.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I'm real assured.” She looked to Imperator. “Tell him.”

Imperator stomped up close to the Head Praetorian, then glared into his eyes. “I tell this to you as Wärmarschal, as a former First Cohort Centurion, and as a demigod. Grand Dragon Shattered Bones, she who watches your every move and listens to your every word, is my daughter, and is loyal to me implicitly. Premier Starlight Glimmer is my future wife. If I ever find out that you or one of your Praetorians has so much as rubbed a hair on her head the wrong way – and if it happens, I will find out – then I will personally kill you, the offending Praetorian, and your entire families in the most cruel and humiliating of manners, with utmost ease and with total legal impunity. Is that understood?”

The Head Praetorian slunk back, then drew his gaze to the side and downward. “Y-yes, sir. N-not a hair on her head.”

“Good. You know the risks of treason, then. But I do not believe it will be a problem. Miss Glimmer is a fine leader, and very amicable to those who do not tempt her wrath.”

“It's true,” Starlight said with a smile. “I'm sure you Praetorians are really nice. I really don't blame you for betraying the Kaiser, but I have to look out for myself, too. I'm sure you understand.”

The Head Praetorian sighed. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Now,” Imperator said, “what is it that you Praetorians normally do after you have killed a Kaiser?”

The Head Praetorian picked his head back up. “Ravage the Kaiser's concubines and ransack his quarters, sir.”

“Then I will no longer keep you or your soldiers waiting. I am sure they are quite eager. Will you, Starlight?”

Starlight shook her head. “Nope. I'm done with him for now.”

“Yes, sir and ma'am.” He saluted Starlight and Imperator, then turned back to his subordinates to shout. “You heard 'em! The Kaiser's bitches are ours now. Let's have at 'em!”

The rigid Praetorian ranks suddenly broke into a hooting and hollering mob as they turned to the city gates and galloped through them like a swarm, towards Wenn's citadel on the hill, kicking up dirt as they went.

Starlight looked up at Imperator. “So, where to now?”

“To the Pillar of Justice. I was told that should you channel your Un-Marking spell through the Pillar, it will be amplified to cover the entire Wasteland. And I assume you will be leaving the Reichsfolks' marks alone, as we agreed?”

Starlight nodded. “As we agreed.”

“Very good. Now, both of you, follow me to the Pillar, if you please.”

When Starlight turned around another corner in the labyrinth of empty city streets and gray apartment blocks, a gargantuan eleven-sided obsidian pillar, glowing in a sickly green aura, awaited her. It emanated a continuous hum. Etched in white, on each of the pillar's eleven sides, was seven commandments written in old-style Equestrian. Starlight felt her mouth gape in wonder.

“This is the Pillar of Justice,” Imperator said. “When God created Planetvoid's first wife from the dust, He also erected this Pillar, which has His Seventy-Seven Divine Edicts engraved on it. The Empire was built on the principles and rules expounded in these Edicts.”

“What's the green stuff for?” Starlight asked.

“To protect it,” said Bones. “God blessed it so that only one stronger than Planetvoid could destroy it. Which, at the time, only meant Celestia and Luna. All else who tried would be reduced to a shapeless mass of boiling flesh.”

“Eugh. Well, anyway. Let's get to it!”

Starlight touched her horn on the Pillar, and channeled her energy through it. She sunk every ounce of her being into the Un-Marking spell. Then, an immense bolt of bluish-green light shot up high into the atmosphere through the Pillar, and made a deafening boom that echoed throughout the whole planet. Now, the sky became littered with removed cutie marks that soared upwards, then southwest, to the place where they'd be locked away and stored until further notice. Starlight stepped back from the pillar, feeling her eyelids go heavy as she took quick and deep breaths.

“I do wonder,” Imperator said. “Where do these marks go once you have removed them? It must be filled to the brink by now.”

“There's a vault near Our Town,” she replied. “The Cutie Mark Vault. I made it myself. Well, I did with the Staff of Sameness.”

“I thought that was just a useless hunk of wood you found on the ground.”

“That's partly true. It was useless when I found it, but then I turned it into the Vault's link between the Mundane and the little pocket in Tartarus where it puts all the cutie marks.” Starlight grinned. “It has enough room for hundreds of trillions of them!”

“Was it a lot of effort to get that much space?”

“No, not really. Tartarus is a pretty big place.”

“Well, however you did it, I am sure it required quite a bit of ingenuity, if not a lot of effort. It also sounds to me like something that needs defending with arms.”

“We'll have the Weaponed Secret Service do that. They'll build a secret military base around it. Heavily guarded, and armed to the teeth. And we can't let anyone know about it.”

“And about your old town?”

“Security hazard. They have to go.”

“Really?” A moment of silence. “Sure. That makes sense to me. I will get Legate Sword right on it. Now, there is something I need to do…”

Imperator took several strides back, and charged his horn, creating an enormous golden sphere  of blinding light that pulsed with electric veins and hummed even louder than the Pillar. He launched it at the Pillar, and it exploded into innumerable black obsidian shards. Starlight cast a round shield around herself and Bones to protect from the giant dust cloud and the flying debris, which bounced harmlessly off it and Imperator's armor. The surrounding buildings around a fifty yard radius were blown back by the blast, and they were reduced to rubble. Thousands of smaller booms were heard in quick succession from outside the city. Once the dust and the debris settled, Starlight glared at Imperator, whose armor was black and gray from being covered by it. Starlight cast a spell on him, and a gust of wind blew it all away, bringing back its white and gold luster.

Starlight then grimaced and stomped a hoof on the ground. “What'd you do that for!?”

“There is another thing about the Pillar. It was Wolfram's link to the Wasteland. By destroying it, I removed any influence Wolfram ever had on this place.”

Starlight took a quiet moment to digest this, then was flung into a snickering fit. “You betrayed your own god. You actually, willingly betrayed your own god. How did you even think of that!?”

Imperator looked up to the sky. “Let us just say I was told by a kindred spirit.” He looked back to Starlight. “We are the gods of the Wasteland now. You, me, and my daughter.”

Bones raised an eyebrow. “When are you going to ascend me, anyway?”

“Now. In the citadel. Follow me.”

Imperator started his way to the citadel, then Bones trailed behind him, her smile stretching far on both sides.

“Wait!” Starlight called out.

Imperator looked back at Starlight. “Yes, dear?”

“The war's pretty much over now, right? Once we make it official, I want to give you a gift.”

“Is that so? And what would this gift be?”

“A name. I'm tired of not having a real name to call you by. Everyone either calls you by your nationality, or some job description. It's stupid. Names exist for a reason. And since you're clearly not lying about not remembering your old name, I think it's about time I gave you a new one.”

He paused for a moment. “I will be honest. I feel the same way.”

Starlight smiled. “I'm glad.”

“When we discuss this with Miss Master, we will come up with a suitable name. Perhaps we can also give new names to the more poorly named cities. Planetvoid, for all his political and military savvy, was never very good at coming up with names.”

“Alright. I'll go bring Checkmate over here, and we can talk it over.”

“Very good.”

“And since we're going to be married, I think you should meet your in-laws. Or rather, I think your in-laws should meet you.” Her eyebrows tensed, and her smile grew. “Especially your father-in-law.”

“My father-in-law?”

“Yeah. My dad. He told me I was too 'crazy' to ever get married. I'd like to rub it in his face!”

“I thought you were his favorite.”

She waved a dismissive hoof. “We had a bit of a falling out. Don't dwell on it too much.”

“Of course. I would hate to spoil such an entertaining family reunion.” Imperator continued on his way, with Bones following. “I can hardly wait to put a ring on… wherever it is Equestrian grooms place frivolous ring-shaped jewelry on their brides.”

Starlight extended her wings, then launched herself up into the sky. As she flapped her wings and flew in the direction of her camp's main tent, she looked back at the city of Wenn, and her every fiber tingled with excitement. It was hers. The whole city was hers. The whole Wasteland was hers. And this was just the beginning. The Wasteland was hers today. Tomorrow, she would have the world.

Chapter 26

“Premier Glimmer. Your audience awaits your speech. You may start whenever you are ready.” The captain of the Starlightopolis City Guard kept his mandatory grin firm and unwavering inside his Byzuntonian-style helmet.

Starlight stood in her palace's top floor lobby, looking to her right, out through the glass doors and walls, past the balcony. The sun shined directly overhead, the sky bright and carrying a gentle breeze. Below, she could see entire blocks of her city filled with the starting foundations for her citizens' brand new brick apartment homes. Further down, there were her adoring subjects, standing in perfect rank and file in the square, each and every one bearing a wide, toothy grin. Every stallion's mane matched every other stallion's mane, every mare's mane matched every other mare's mane, and every cutie mark was replaced with a symbol of equality. Her Commonwealth's red and gold banners fluttered in the wind, and her city guards' helmets shined with the sun's light. The balcony, itself, had a white marble podium erected in the center, installed with a microphone on top, and a small red button underneath it. Eight city guards stood at attention on the balcony, four on each wing.

She then looked to her left. There, Checkmate, Sucker Pop, Bones, and Imperator stood side-by-side, watching her. Bones still wore her Grand Dragon's robe. Sucker Pop wore a bronze crown of thorny branches just like Checkmate's, and was dressed in a royal blue toga.

Imperator walked up beside Starlight. “You did a fine job here,” he said. “I am very proud of you.”

Starlight smiled, then rubbed her muzzle on his helm's nose. “Couldn't have done it without you.”

“So, it is done? The last of the slaves have had their brains repaired?”

She nodded. “Yes. Slavery is now officially abolished.” She looked outside. “The future has arrived.” She looked back to Imperator. “And what about the Vault? Is it secure?”

“Very much so. Your old town has been erased with nary a survivor nor scrap of ruin left over, and a fortress is being built around the Vault as we speak.”

Starlight sighed, then slunk down slightly and inverted her smile to a frown. “You know, I feel kinda bad. They were so loyal to me, and they loved me so much. I feel… like I might have actually cared about them.” She paused. “I mean, I'm starting to think that maybe everything I've been doing here was wrong. All the lying, all the betraying, all the pain and misery I've caused, all in the name of equality. I dunno. Maybe it's time I sit down and have a long, quiet reflection about all this.” There was a silent moment of her looking despondently at the ground. She took a deep breath. Imperator stared at her, and the other three shared confused glances. But then, Starlight's smile came right back, her posture picked right up, and she gave Imperator a playful nudge. “Psych!” Starlight laughed, and her four friends laughed with her. “Now, let's get out there! That speech isn't gonna make itself. And I want you guys to see what those devices on the podium do.”

With vigor in every step, Starlight swaggered over to the glass doors to her right, with her friends following at her back. She then cast magic on the doors. They swung open, and she stepped in front of her podium to the sound of her audience's roaring applause. Her friends stood in a line behind her. The grins on her audience's faces gave Starlight confidence. Once satisfied, she tapped a hoof on the red button below her, and a crescendo of three beeping tones echoed from within the palace's golden minaret. The audience stopped their applause. Starlight heard her friends behind her muttering to each other.

She leaned her head closer to the microphone to speak. “Greetings, citizens!” Her amplified voice reverberated from the minaret, throughout the square. “I am happy to announce that, thanks in no small part to those brave freedom fighters who defected from the old order's tyranny to our cause, and their ever so vigilant commander whom I love and respect very much, our war of liberation has ended in a decisive victory. Kaiser Shattered Dreams, and his top enforcer, Legate Snakefang Gelder, are dead, never to return. And despite our new order being only a few months old, we have already made progress in enormous leaps and bounds.

“I, Starlight Glimmer, your generous and erudite Premier, have personally found a way to undo lobotomies on a grand scale, and now these newly freed masses serve our new nation, the United Commonwealth of Equals, amongst all of you as equal fellow citizens.”

She pushed the button. The ringtones played, and the audience applauded. There was one in some back corner who stood still, neglecting to applaud and softening his grin. He was lifted up into the air by a white magical aura with his mouth held shut, then carried off to some dark alleyway down an open floor hatch that blended in with the ground once it was closed back up. The rest of the audience didn't bat an eye or even look in his direction as they continued their applause. Starlight pressed the button once again, and the audience went silent at the sound of the tones.

She continued her speech. “Additionally, your glorious Premier has also created a potent artificial magical brain within the most impenetrable hidden vault in the Palace, immune to corruption, connected to our vast industrial network, and omniscient in all economic matters, in order to expedite and improve the process of planning economic growth. The first Five Year Plan is already underway, and all is going well. Factories and houses are being built to bolster the Commonwealth's economy and standards of living. The time capsule that the old order had sealed the Wasteland into has been shattered, and the results are better than anything we had previously dreamed of. We estimate that within the next ten years, our industrial output will be the envy of the world, our farm collectives will produce enough food to feed triple our population, and our vast armies will crush any fool who would stand against us!

“Martial law is no longer in effect. Our new order's state infrastructure has been built. Order will now be kept by dedicated police forces, who are sworn to protect and serve the Commonwealth's citizens, and to uphold the Commonwealth's laws and principles as defined by the Commonwealth's government, and by the Equality Manuscript, which I have co-authored with all the rest of our nation's founding mothers and fathers, and will serve as the backbone of our nation's philosophy.

“The Manuscript is a very large and complex tome. Only those most attuned to the cause of Equalism will truly understand its contents, so only a very select few will be chosen to be allowed to read it. But do not fret! The same dedicated and steadfast minds who drafted the Codex have, for your convenience, boiled its teachings down to ten easy-to-remember rules so that you may live your lives safely, happily, and correctly. And now I, from memory, will recite them to you."

She, again, pushed the button. The applause started with the ringtones, then stopped at the tones after the button's second push.

“Rule one: One must always respect and obey the Commonwealth's laws, principles and authorities, with neither question, nor hesitation, nor restraint.

“Rule two: One must always assume that the Commonwealth's leaders are acting in accordance with the Commonwealth's principles, and any thought otherwise must, itself, be assumed to be against those principles.

“Rule three: One must always put his or her duty to serve and obey the Commonwealth before anything or anyone else.

“Rule four: One must always assume that anything the Commonwealth's leaders say is true.

“Rule five: One must always watch him or her self, and those around him or her, for any words, thoughts, or actions that the Commonwealth does not approve of, and report them to proper Commonwealth authorities.

“Rule six: One must never speak ill of the Commonwealth's principles or leaders.

“Rule seven: One must never try to keep secrets from proper Commonwealth authorities.

“Rule eight: One must never attempt to lie to proper Commonwealth authorities.

“Rule nine: One must never let his or her smile fade away in public.

“And finally, rule ten: All ponies must be equal, both in mind and in body.”

Once more, the button was pushed, and another round of applause was made until the second push.

“And so, without further adieu, I will now introduce to you the four co-founders of the Commonwealth. First, I introduce Checkmate Master, Director of Education and Propaganda.” Checkmate walked up next to the podium. After Starlight pressed the button and the audience began their applause, Checkmate put on a polite smile. She gave a quick and weak bow to them, then turned back and left the balcony.

Then, Sucker Pop trotted up and stood in Checkmate's place. “Second, I introduce Doctor Sucker Pop, Director of Science, Technology, and Research.” The audience continued their applause, having not been told to stop. Sucker Pop smiled and looked up to Starlight. With a smile of her own, Starlight looked back down to Sucker Pop and gave her a knowing wink. Sucker Pop started her way out of the balcony.

Then, Shattered Bones went up to take her place. “Next, I introduce Shattered Bones, Head Commissar of Intelligence and Internal Peacekeeping.” Bones then shot her wings up into the air, and stared down at the audience with furrowed brows and a smug grin. Starlight raised a hoof and gave Bones' head a quick pat. Then, Bones folded her wings back in, and left the balcony.

Imperator, with slow and deliberate step, walked up and took the same place. “And last, but certainly not least, I introduce our nation's most esteemed guardian – and my loving newlywed husband – White Hawk, First Marshal of the Commonwealth!” White Hawk lit his horn with flame, and unleashed a vast spray of fire over the audience's heads, giving an orange glow to each and every one of their faces. He then stopped the flame, and gave a weak bow of the head before turning back and leaving the balcony.

Starlight pressed the button; the audience stopped to hear Starlight's concluding words. “We thank you dearly for giving us the opportunity to show you the way to security and happiness. Everything we do, we do for you, our respected and cherished citizens. None of this would even be possible without all of you. And so, long live you! Each and every one of you! And long live me, and long live the Commonwealth!”

Again, Starlight pushed the button, and the audience applauded. Her gaze drew behind her, and through the glass, she saw her four friends speaking with a dark purple unicorn stallion with a black mane and black eyes, clad in the armor of the Canterlot City Guard; and a yellow unicorn mare with red eyes, and an orange mane split between one large bunch in the back, and a slightly smaller bunch hanging over her face along a crooked hairline. The mare was covered from the neck down in a white robe.

Starlight looked again to her audience, and pressed the button one last time. Once the audience stopped, Starlight turned around to leave the balcony, and magically swung the glass door open as she entered the lobby.

Starlight shot the purple stallion a smug smirk. “Hello there, father. I see you've met my husband.” She then looked to the yellow mare, and her expression went deadpan. “Your mane looks like crap.”

The yellow mare started to shake uncontrollably. She slunk down and dipped her head while her eyes drew downward. “I-I'm sorry, sister.” Her voice was high-pitched and nasally. “I… I l-lost a bet. M-magic Kindergarten's Special E-e-ed redid my m-mane.” Her eyes went teary. “P-please don't hurt me…” She started to weep.

'How pathetic,' Starlight thought to herself. She rolled her eyes and sighed, then looked to Hawk. “That's my sister. Lowlight Dimmer. Dad's name is Moonlight Shield.”

“They told me their names,” Hawk replied.

“Well,” Moonlight said, “I thought you were crazy.  Then I took a look at this place you have here, and now I'm certain of it.”

“I will not have you disparage Miss Glimmer in her own home,” Hawk said sternly.

Moonlight looked up to Hawk with pursed lips. “Right. Sorry. I'm the guest, and you're the host. And I guess you'll nail me to a cross if I speak too much out of turn, huh?”

“Keep that up, and I just might.”

There was silence. Moonlight drew his eyes up to Starlight. Figuring he was expecting her to pick up for him, Starlight instead scowled at him.

Moonlight rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Oy vey.” He shook his head, then looked back to Hawk. “So, an Imperial, huh?”

Hawk nodded.

“Can't say I'm all that surprised, to be honest.”

Bones scoffed, then pointed at Moonlight. “What's the deal with this dullard?”

“That is a good question,” Checkmate added. “What bone do you have to pick with your daughter, anyway?”

Moonlight's gaze drew to Checkmate. His eyes scanned her up and down, from her head to her hooves. “You look familiar. Checker Master, is it?”

Checkmate groaned. “No, darling. Checkmate Master.”

“Feh.”

“Why are you asking about her?” Starlight asked.

Moonlight flicked a hoof in the air, then looked back to Starlight. “Your mom's in the looney bin. That's why she isn't here. She's got a friend in there who looks a lot like this one, has about the same demeanor, and has a really similar name to boot. Cause a lot of trouble together, those two. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”

“Your entire country is a looney bin,” Hawk remarked. “I have not met a single Equestrian who was not eccentric in some way. Your daughter is actually one of the more sane ones I have met.”

Moonlight scoffed. “Oh, like you wou-.” He sighed. “Ah, forget it.”

“And furthermore, why do you keep saying these terrible things about your daughter? What did she do to warrant it? This is not how a father should act in this sort of situation. You should at least be able to control yourself.”

Starlight pressed a hoof on her forehead and groaned. “It's because I was nasty to all the other kids in school, alright? And he couldn't do anything about it because he was henpecked by my mom.” She smirked malevolently at Moonlight. “Isn't that right, you whipped little pansy?”

Moonlight furrowed his brows and growled.

“I am curious,” Hawk said. “Exactly how were you nasty to the other children?”

“Well, I'd insult them, belittle them, break up friendships, mess up their food in lunchtime… y'know, kid stuff.”

“Hm. That sounds like normal childhood behavior to me. And I assume you were of greater status?”

“Yes.” Starlight stubbed her nose up in the air and smiled proudly. “I had the best clothes, the best looks, and the best grades in all the best classes.”

“Ah. I see. Then your behavior was entirely justified, in addition to incredibly mild in cruelty.”

Moonlight stammered for a second. “What!? Entirely justified? Incredibly mild? How!?”

“I was a bit like that when I was a filly,” said Bones. “Except I also liked to beat the weak and demure fillies to near-death just for giggles.” She dragged her gaze to Lowlight, with wide eyes and a predatory grin. “Fillies just like this one…”

Lowlight's entire body jolted up, and her breathing got rapid and shallow.

A grimace grew on Moonlight's face as he held a foreleg defensively against Lowlight's chest, and glared at Bones. “You leave her alone.”

Bones chuckled, then smirked at Moonlight and drooped her eyelids. “Oh, I would not dream of hurting your weak, timid, defenseless little daughter. I'm a big filly now. I get others to do my hurting for me… for the most part.”

Moonlight looked at Starlight with a scowl, which Starlight responded to with a smirk. Then, Moonlight shook his head. “Look, Starlight. I know you probably just invited me here to rub the fact that you made something of yourself for once in my goddamn face, but can you tell that bitch to STOP THREATENING MY DAUGHTER?”

“I will have you know,” Hawk said bitterly, “that the 'bitch' whom you are referring to is my daughter.”

“Oh, that's just great!” Moonlight shouted. “You know what? You're terrible. You're all terrible.” He glared at Starlight. “I only came here in the hopes that maybe you got married because you'd gotten some redeeming qualities and found a good guy that liked 'em. But no, you have none. Nada! Zip! Zilch! Turns out you're still a complete bitch, and you found a complete bastard to pair up with. That's it. That is it. I am personally disowning you. From this moment forward, you are no longer my daughter!”

Starlight chuckled. “Oh, I'm not your daughter anymore, am I? Good. Then I won't have to feel bad about doing this.”

She lit her horn, and both Moonlight and Lowlight found their heads and necks bound in place by greenish-blue aura, and their mouths frozen shut. Starlight's smile widened as she drew her gaze back and fourth between her two victims. They looked at her with eyes that pleaded for mercy. Then, she twisted their heads clockwise with a quick jerk, and the loud cracks from their necks filled the room. Starlight felt a cool rush of satisfaction flowing through her. A sigh of relief left her, and she released her magical grip, letting them fall to the ground entirely limp from the neck down, drool oozing down into puddles on the floor from their spasming mouths. Starlight and her friends watched with quiet apathy as the twitches in their faces gradually became more faint, until they fully stopped. Father and sister laid there with their eyes blank and their faces resting in pools of their own spittle.

After a long, awkward silence, Checkmate looked to Starlight with a smile. “Well done.”

“Five star execution,” Bones added. “Good riddance, too.”

Hawk lifted up a hoof and gave Starlight a firm rub on the back. “I concur.”

Sucker Pop giggled. “Yeah, I admit. That was kinda cool.”

Starlight casually stepped over her father's warm corpse, starting her way out of the lobby with her four friends following her. “So, you guys up for dinner? It's on the taxpayers, of course.”

“Dinner sounds good,” Bones said. “Take me to the kitchen. I can make a really scrumptious Kaiser salad.”

Epilogue

“Urgent news!” The intercom addressed Starlightopolis through speakers set up throughout the city. Starlight, herself, listened in with a content smile as she looked down on her city, now fully rebuilt in brick, asphalt, and concrete; and bustling with smiling commuters walking up and down sidewalks in orderly lines. “The Commonwealth's first Five Year Plan was successful. Expectations have been met with flying colors. The second Five Year Plan is currently in progress, and our industrial network can expect to begin execution of it in short order. Three ounce chocolate bars will be added to your regular food rations for one week to celebrate this development. Long live the Commonwealth!” Audio feedback resonated through the intercom for a short moment before it continued its usual loop. “Be yourself by not being yourself. To exceed is to fail. Make equality your special talent…”

Then, Starlight heard heavy hoofsteps, and a slight buzzing sound, from the staircase behind her. When Starlight looked in that direction, he saw Hawk entering the room, accompanied by a mechanical alicorn whose slender androgynous frame was slightly smaller than Starlight's. It was made entirely of stainless steel, and its every movement was followed by whirring from its joints.

“Music to my ears,” Hawk said. “And not just because it is your voice, either.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Starlight turned around and walked up closer to Hawk. They stopped in the middle of the room. “So, it's done? They're finally out of the picture?”

Hawk nodded, then looked to the metal alicorn. “Praetorian. Relay the status of Operation Midnight Longsword.”

A brief electronic white noise emanated from the metal alicorn, then it spoke in its robotic voice. “OldPrae status: Exterminated. Primary objective status: Complete. OldPrae record status: Exterminated. Secondary objective status: Complete. Operation Midnight Longsword completion progress: One-hundred percent.” It ended with another second of white noise.

“It really is miraculous what these things can do,” Hawk remarked. “Killing a Praetorian was no easy task. And I can assume that production is already complete?”

Starlight nodded. “Yep. Three Cohorts of them, one for me, one for you, and one for Bones. And we have quite a few replacement chassis in stock.”

Hawk shook his head and sighed. “Why did I not find you sooner?”

“I'm one in a billion,” Starlight replied. “And so are you. Otherwise, you wouldn't have found me at all.”

“Hm.”

Starlight leaned her head into his and rubbed her cheek against it. “And it's all water under the bridge now. We have each other, and the Commonwealth, forever and ever.” She withdrew her head and smiled at him.

Hawk nodded. “You are correct. I wou-” He stopped himself, snapping his gaze to the window behind Starlight. With his sights locked into the sky, he walked around Starlight, stopping at the window.

Starlight stopped smiling and turned her head back to Hawk. “What is it? What do you see?”

He hesitated. “A white alicorn is taking flight in our direction.” He looked back to Starlight. “She is clad in gold. I think it might be Celestia.”

Starlight's heart stopped for one beat. “What?” She took a breath. “Lemme see.” With quick pace, Starlight walked next to Hawk and peered into the sky through the glass. Indeed, there was Celestia, gliding down from the sky with spread wings, directly down to the balcony. She had glazed eyes and a sullen frown.

Starlight's lips pursed. “Yep. That's Celestia, alright.” She paused. “This can't be good.”

Hawk turned around and started his way to the balcony. “Let us see what she wants. You have no reason to fear. You have my protection.”

“Yeah, you're right.” She started her own way and looked at the metal alicorn. “Praetorian. Initiate defensive protocols on me.”

“Affirmative.” The metal alicorn followed Starlight to the balcony. By the time they made it, Celestia had just made touchdown.

Hawk glared at Celestia. “You are trespassing on restricted Commonwealth government property. State your business or evacuate the area immediately.”

“I didn't come to hurt anyone,” Celestia droned. “I just wanted to see what was going on here for myself.”

Starlight took a step forward. “I thought you were in house arrest.”

“Is that so? I didn't notice. Are you Starlight Glimmer?”

Starlight narrowed her eyes. “I am.”

“Oh. Hi, Starlight. I just wanted to talk something over with you, as a head of state.”

“But Luna told me you weren't the Equestrian head of state anymore.”

Celestia blinked. “I never was.”

Starlight was silent. She and Hawk shared a glance before she spoke again. “Well, Luna certainly wasn't lying about your mental state.”

Without warning, Celestia cackled with a devious grin. “She wasn't.”

A sickly green light from Celestia's horn covered her entire body. Then, from the ground up, the green light withered away, gradually revealing her true form. First, two pairs of black legs dotted with holes. Then, a slender black torso whose back had scaly insectoid wings attached in the back. Then finally, a fanged black face with green eyes whose gaze struck to the core, and a head adorned with a black jagged horn, a dark-teal mane that flowed down to the chest, and some black organic mockery of a regal crown.

Hawk growled, firmed his posture, ignited his horn with fire, then barked, “Changeling!”

The Changeling swiped her fangs with her forked tongue, then lit her horn, making a wreath of thorny branches pop out of the aether in front of her. “Hold your fire, Imperial. I come in peace.” Hawk relaxed his stance and extinguished his flame. “Excellent.” She tossed the wreath off the balcony and looked to Starlight. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Chrysalis. Queen of all Changeling-kind, ruler of the southern wastes.” She chuckled. “And no, that's not Wastes with a capital W. I have my own hellhole to rule.”

“Queen Chrysalis?” Hawk asked. “The same Queen Chrysalis who nearly toppled the entire Equestrian government with one fell swoop on their capitol?”

Chrysalis made another tongue-swipe on her fangs. “The very same.”

“I wonder,” Starlight said quizzically. “Can a queen of a bug swarm technically be called a head of state?”

“She can,” replied Chrysalis. “Just because we're not a nation-state as you'd typically think of it doesn't mean we don't have a state. But let's not get off-topic with eighth grade social studies tripe.”

Starlight nodded. “Right. So, why are you here?”

“Well…” Chrysalis walked up uncomfortably close to Starlight. “I'm sure you've been here long enough to know that we Changelings take a keen interest in Wasteland matters. So, needless to say, we've been watching you. And we like what we see.” She turned around to look down the balcony, at Starlight's city. “You've been building up a sort of hive yourself, I notice.”

“If that is true,” Hawk said, “then why has it taken so long for you to come into contact with us?”

Chrysalis shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Hawk. Sweetheart. What good would it have been to intervene in your little scuffle? Against your side?” She scoffed. “Please. The Empire hated our guts almost as much as they hated Equestria's. Against the Empire? You guys already had things well under control, obviously, so it would've been a superfluous investment. Or against both sides, only for ourselves? There's a fair chance you would've united against us, and even if you didn't, it wouldn't have been worth the risk, since Wasteland love is scarce and isn't very nourishing.” She turned around to face Hawk. “I decided that a wait-and-see approach would be best. And after five years of quiet observation, I've found that we have a lot in common.” She smiled, then raised a hoof and caressed Hawk's armored cheek with it; Starlight scowled. “We feed on love; you feed on love. We are fond of deception; you are fond of deception. We are a hive by nature, and you are a hive by philosophy.” With a sultry look in the eyes, Chrysalis leaned her head into Hawk's ear to whisper. “You can say we make the perfect couple.”

Starlight growled, then pressed a hoof on Chrysalis' chest and shoved her back with it. "Back off."

“There is no need to get defensive, dear,” Hawk said assuredly to Starlight. “This is normal behavior for a Changeling.”

Chrysalis tongue-swiped her fangs. “He's right, you know.” She looked to Hawk. “You were involved with Imperial wars against us Changelings, weren't you? That's the only way you'd know this.”

“I was,” he replied.

“And exactly how many of my kind have you butchered in battle?”

“More than I can count.”

Chrysalis furrowed her brows. “I bet so. And I've killed a fair few of your kind as well.” She relaxed her brows, then carelessly flicked a hoof in the air. “But hey, it's all past. The Empire's gone now, and cooler heads have taken its place.”

Starlight sneered at Chrysalis. “Just tell us what you want.”

Chrysalis groaned. “Isn't it obvious? I want an alliance. Neither of us have anything to gain from fighting each other, and both of us have plenty to gain from fighting Equestria. And if we fight them together, then we're both far more likely to succeed.”

“Hmph. And what do you want from Equestria, anyway?”

“I want their love. Equestrian love is the most delicious and filling in the world to us Changelings. More quality love means more fodder for me to throw into wars of conquest. And I think you have something just as specific in mind…”

Starlight thought for a moment. “Iron. We need more iron for more industry, and we're running out of money to buy it. Equestria has lots of iron that I want.”

“As I expected. Now, you're in the east, and I'm in the south. Our forces can support each other while still making the Equestrians fight on two fronts. We can start our attack in the badlands, where Appleoosa and the buffalo tribes are, and go from there.”

Hawk nodded. “That sounds like a reasonable strategy. Allow me to think it over?”

“Oh, I have my own military staff who can discuss strategy with you in detail. But what I want to know… and want to know now… is if I can be assured of our unholy matrimony.”

“Hmm…” Hawk looked to Starlight. “I am open to it. How about you?”

Starlight put a hoof on her chin, then contemplated this offer. Could she count on Chrysalis to be a loyal and steadfast ally? Not really, but Chrysalis did have a point when she said fighting each other would be pointless for both sides. So, as far as a pact of convenience goes, Chrysalis could probably be counted on. And it wasn't like she'd be betraying any sort of trust by attacking Equestria, since Luna didn't trust her much to begin with. Plus, there really wasn't anywhere to attack but Equestria, so she might as well do it with help from the Changelings.

She decided. With a malevolent grin, she extended her hoof to Chrysalis. “You have a deal.”

Chrysalis, with a malevolent grin of her own, pressed her hoof against Starlight's and shook it. “Good. Good! I'll come back later so we can discuss this alliance in detail, in a more formal capacity.” She broke the hoofshake. “Five years, honey. You have five years to build up an army and set it up to invade Equestria with ours. Be there, or be square.”

Chrysalis looked to Hawk and gave him a wink, then lit her horn, surrounding herself in green aura. In a flash, she changed into a black raven and took flight back outside the city.

At this moment, Starlight and her Commonwealth had officially entered the world stage. She had just shaken hooves with one of the world's major players, and Starlight had just made a deal with her in preparation for her opening act. And this opening act would be glorious.