“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. Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 16 Minutes