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. Next Chapter: Chapter 7 Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 10 Minutes