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.” Next Chapter: Chapter 22 Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 6 Minutes