Fallout Equestria: Sola Gratia
Chapter 4: Night Train
“If you aren’t getting your hands dirty, you aren’t making a difference. Welcome to the World.”

“What is it?” I asked the ghoulish pony beside me, as we both gazed into the black night, staring at the machinated monster charging, cutting, through the darkness.

“Old Slave Train, the Coltilde, we’d better wait it out.” Charon and I stood on a ridge, a fair amount of distance between us and the beast, as well as the small town that it was rapidly approaching.

“Wait, what do you mean Slave Train? Are there ponies being kept prisoner on that thing?”

“No, they would have been dropped off at the Pens, the previous stop. Train’s on a collection trip.” His tone was almost aloof; there was no panic or concern in his words. This was normal. Slavery was normal.

“Then we have to do something! We can’t just sit here with front row seats to watch ponies getting abducted.” I was determined to fix this, I didn’t know how but I couldn’t just let this happen. Whether Charon was coming or not, I was going down there to help those ponies. “We need to get the authorities!”

“The only authority left is invented.” He shook his head. “They are safe. Damascus worked out a deal a long time ago; they don’t take anyone from the town anymore.” This failed to subdue my concern.

“Then why are they stopping?” I was in emotional discord, my body was tense and yet adrenaline pumped through me, anger and confusion muddled my thinking. Slavery was an industry now, they were harvesting ponies from their homes and turning them into objects, and it was a lucrative enough business to have control over the railways. I wanted to go down there and get things explained to me, I needed to know exactly what was going on and not have to deal with Charon’s reluctance to answer me anymore.
For once, however, he began to explain.

“Part of the deal, our population is too low for regular extraction and too weak to make us good slaves, so we serve as a rest-stop. We maintain the train and feed the slavers; they’ve even been given the old motel for shelter when they stop by. We make sure their good and ready to hit the next settlement along the line, just so they won’t take us.” A subtle implication of begrudging regret laced his last words.

“I don’t understand…why doesn’t anypony stop them?” I was coming to realize just how cold the wasteland really was, how lawless and cruel a place Equestria had become.

“Ponies don’t care, they’d rather have somebody else suffer than themselves, it’s Instinct, and it keeps them alive.” I tried to read his expression; it was as blank as his stonewalled tone. I wanted to know what he thought, why he would kill raiders and save me, if he didn’t have some moral justification to do so. Surely it couldn’t all be about money, or his adherence to whatever power commanded him.

“What about you? You’re good with a gun, you saved me from three raiders and went on to hunt down Goddesses know how many more. Surely you see that this needs to be stopped.” I pleaded to him.

“I follow orders. Damascus holds my contract and therefore controls my actions, my existence. And as much as he’d like to stop the Slavers, ponies don’t care. Just one with a shotgun and suicidal orders isn’t even going to make a dent.” How could he be so obedient? He was more than the claim of a contract; he was an individual, a buck. The way he talked about himself almost made him sound like a slave.

“Who says you have to be controlled by a contract? Don’t you see that if you let it rule you then you might as well be on that damned train? Why can some piece of paper stop you from living as you choose to, why can it change who you are?” I asked him, sadly, as his face failed to fluctuate.

“That’s how it works.” Was all he said, staring down at the small station town that the train had docked in. I felt sorry for Charon, whatever had happened to him had warped his mind, he could no longer see beyond the black and white of paper and orders, no longer think for himself. He was brainwashed.

“I see, so I suppose you aren’t going to let me go down there and do something. Or are you willing to ignore your orders just this once, so we can stop that train from ever taking another slave aboard?” I pressed, ambitious, trying one last time to convince him, to appeal to whatever individuality he had left.

“The mercy deal doesn’t extend to Stable ponies, only residents of Hell. They would kill you or, more likely, put you in chains before you said a word or fired a round. I am obligated to escort you to Damascus; I cannot escort a slave, or a corpse.” It seemed he wouldn’t falter in fulfilling his orders.

“Fine, I appreciate the fact that you aren’t delivering me to the Slavers at least. I suppose that’s twice that you’ve spared me from ending up with them. I just hope this ‘Damascus’ has some answers for me.” Charon stood still and regarded me with an indiscernibly, different look in his misty eyes.

“I’m a ghoul.” I was taken aback by the sudden change in his voice, it had become personable. If this was the term for whatever he was then it seemed awfully derogatory, at least by how I understood the word.
“It’s something that happens after massive exposure to radiation, kind of exposure that would kill most ponies. For some it just changes them, they become eternal, while their ageing bodies still decay they stay functioning for decades, even centuries beyond a lifetime. Some go insane; some become warped through isolation or depression, but understand that despite our appearance most of us are no more dangerous or malicious than a normal pony.”

“I…Thank you for telling me that.” I was intrigued by the concept, but also wondered what had prompted Charon to open up.

“It’s something you need to understand before you meet Damascus. You’re too polite, if you have a question then ask it, manners will only keep you ignorant.” Back to the blunt monotone, Charon began to make his way down the ridge towards the dark town.

“I thought you said we would wait it out.”

“Raiders set us back, was supposed to get here before slavers. Won’t waste any more time… Stay quiet.” I nodded at his order and followed him towards Hell. The town was indistinguishable in the darkness, but judging from the outlines and implications of the buildings I could see that they were a lot more solid than those in Acheron. This was a functioning settlement, not just a ruin. The lights from the train shone through the cracks and gaps where the houses had been patched up, their solidity came from repair and replacement, planks of wood and steel seemed to cover most of the buildings I could see, filling holes made by the bombs. I assumed this town was pre-war, as despite the structure’s ramshackle appearance it was clear they had a frame and foundation from a different time, the railway station in particular.

Before we got close enough for me to get a better look at either the Slavers or the town itself, Charon swerved to the left, circling the outskirts of the settlement with me in close pursuit. We hopped over a broken wall that constituted the western border, it was ‘made’ of blasted brick and jagged fence but there was a gap low enough for us to clear. To the north I could make out the railway entrance into the town and the long black body of the Coltilde. Its lights slowly shutting off as the slavers exited made it seem to shrink from the back until, like the town, it appeared to be a fraction of its actual size.

Now that we were over the wall, Charon went from one building to another searching for an entrance. Some of the houses had back doors into little yards or patios but he seemed more interested in a lower alternative. Finding a cellar door, he beckoned me over and swung it open. The staircase below was dark and cold but Charon and I descended safely and quietly, despite our blindness. As we reached level ground I realized the ghoul was no longer beside me and was tempted to light up my horn to get my bearings, but resisted for the sake of stealth. A switch clicking and a light flickering made it clear that both my stealth and my spell casting were no longer necessary.

The room I was in was larger than I had expected, the ceiling was low, at about three times my height, but the walls were so far apart that I almost couldn’t see the one furthest from me in the dim light. The dull yellow bulb flickered for a time until settling into consistency, its glow was similar to my own horn’s, and I immediately preferred it to the fluorescents I was used to. Charon was standing at the base of another dark staircase on the other side of the room, where he had found the light-switch, and was waiting for me to stop analyzing my surroundings so that he could speak.

“Wait here, I’m going to tell Damascus you survived. Don’t leave and stay quiet, I don’t like the look of this place, not with all those shadows crawling around; there could even be hostiles in the building above.”

“Thanks Charon, for helping me with those raiders, I would have been introduced to the Slavers a lot more directly if you hadn’t…stopped them.” The buck grunted and ascended the stairs out of the cellar. I had a feeling that, now that his task was complete, he had no obligation to come back; he had escorted me where he needed to and hopefully Damascus would now let him find some radiation to heal his wound, however that worked. I barely even knew what radiation was, but the idea that it had created an entire new form of pony fascinated me, ponies that could live forever at the cost of their physical and possibly mental decay. I wondered what they did with ghouls who went insane, probably the same thing they did to Slavers: nothing. Whoever ‘they’ were certainly weren’t doing their job. ‘They’ probably didn’t even exist anymore, authority, law, justice, these were the forces that had once regulated Equestria, kept it safe, though ultimately failed. Now the only way to deal with Slavers was to make deals with Slavers, sacrifice the lives of others to preserve your own, instinct, as Charon had called it. More like cowardice.

I didn’t know enough to judge, maybe there was something I wasn’t seeing, some aspect that could excuse this deal, this pacification. I would talk to Damascus, he would explain, I would take Charon’s advice and make sure to ask every question I could, no matter how unpleasant. Ignorance was bliss in the same way that death was bliss; it was a form of avoidance, dealing with a problem by keeping yourself as far away from it as possible, not that you could blame the dead for doing so. Stay informed, stay alive, that was the plan I came up with for myself while waiting in the cellar. Oh, also stop the slavers and save Equestria, but that was a more long-term goal.

Eventually I heard the door creak open once again and my first instinct was to dart over to the staircase that led to the house. I hugged the side of it as I waited for whoever was coming down to reveal themselves. They stepped slowly down the stairs, the door creaking shut behind them, light steps making less noise against the wood than seemed possible. I had probably drawn more attention to myself by scurrying across the room over to where I was, having pattered against the wooden floor on my way.
The buck that descended the stairs was obscured by the shadows until he reached the end of his descent. He turned immediately to face me, confirming my suspicions that my attempt at stealth had been more hurtful than helpful, and I found myself looking into the blue eyes of the pony who could only be Damascus. He looked too important to be a Slaver, too regal to be anything but in control, his gait was as calm and focused as his eyes and I found myself feeling an irrationally spontaneous trust for the stranger.

He looked like a ghoul, not a fraction of undamaged hide was left on his body, his coat looked like it had been completely charred off and the skin remaining looked disturbingly cooked. He wasn’t as flayed as Charon, he seemed more solid, while his red skin was raw and scarred it wasn’t missing in patches and his insides mercifully remained obscured. In the places where he was missing skin it looked more like it had been torn off in strips to reveal the rawer red below rather than flaked off by time. His mane and tail were whitish-grey but full and complete, both short and wavy. His mane could even be described as voluminous; it didn’t lay flat or dead on his head and looked soft and alive, setting him even further apart from Charon, my only reference for ghouls.

What they most certainly had in common were their eyes, Damascus’s were light blue, atmospheric, but they had clouded over, his pupils no longer the solid black I expected, but merged into the pale of his iris. The skin on his lower forelegs had been peeled off to reveal bands of light-red flesh and left an absence on his left where one would expect to find a Pip-buck like mine. His cutie mark looked like a brand, it was black and burnt and had a texture that was disturbingly close to confirming that its artificial birth, implying that it had been cut or cooked onto him. It was a symbol, the same symbol that adorned the material on my back, the same symbol covering my own cutie-mark, painted in gold on the side of my fathers’ coat.

“We should have given you a better welcome on your first visit to Hell, but from what I hear you already came dangerously close to meeting our other guests first. I apologize for that, but they seem to be the only visitors we have these days, and they tend to take any others that are unfortunate enough to end up here. Hell is not a place I would force onto anyone, as it has become suitably appropriate as the punishment it was intended to be… but here we are.” He had a powerful voice; it was gentle but strong, rumbled like quiet thunder and sounded as weathered as his flesh. The way he spoke reminded me of the Confessor, as it could instill trust, but also of Saber, as it could easily generate fear.

“How is Charon?’ I recited nervously, wanting to confirm his well-being before getting to my questions.

“Interesting that you ask that first, it isn’t often that anybody has much visible regard for anyone but themselves anymore.” There was a glint in his eye as he appraised me. “Physically he is fine; I’ve seen him survive enough bullets to take down a buffalo and I doubt a rusty knife to the side is going to slow him down. But I suppose you want to know about his mind, given your naivety to his condition.”

“What happened to him? Why is he so,” I struggled to find a word that was suitable. “Obedient?”

“Charon has been in the wasteland longer than I have, his past remains his own, I can only speculate as to what made him the way he is, what brainwashed him, what made him adhere to a binding by scrap of paper. He is like most out here, not only a victim of the Wasteland, but a product of it.” He replied.

“But why do you have his contract? Why did you buy him?” I retorted, not letting the subject drop.

“As a kindness, believe it or not, he will do whatever he is told to do and the quality of his life greatly depends on who controls him. The mare he worked for before treated him as you assume I do, like a slave, a convenience, an object, to the point where she sold him to a stranger for a monetary gain that she didn’t even need. I have tried to free him, give him his own contract, make him his own master, but sadly he cannot function this way. He would not know how to exist; he has been living a life of obedience for your lifespan five times over. And without a master he would be alone, and ghouls who are alone are quick to stray from the path of sanity. Qui est sola ambulant brevi viam.” He concluded.

“He who is alone walks on a short path. You’re from the Stable?” The dead language was only survived by the followers of the Faith; I doubted that any other trace of it existed anywhere but the Stable. Although the Pip-buck missing from his leg only refuted my suspicion.

“Impressive that you recognized that, I was sent here many years ago by the same mock creed that presumably damned you.” He answered coolly. Wait…no…nononono…The symbol? He couldn’t be, this couldn’t be him, not after all these years…

“Who are you? Really.” I demanded with newfound passion. “You know what I want to know.”

“Our understanding of the term ‘many years ago’ varies greatly” He almost chuckled out his words. “How long has it been since the one you think me to be was damned, a decade? Two? I can reassure you, I have been out of that accursed Stable for over a century, so I cannot possibly be whoever you think I am.” He reassured me. “Unless they still remember me in there.”

An incredible relief washed over me. “I’m sorry, it’s just the symbol, I mean your cutie mark, it’s on my father’s coat. I thought for a moment you might be him.” I didn’t know what I would have done if he had confirmed the identity I had assumed for him.

“Looking to find him? If he came from that Stable then I may have met him under these same circumstances.” He implied an offer to help me track him down, unnecessary but appreciated.

“No, I have no desire to waste any time just to get hurt. We never knew each other, better to keep it that way. I suppose you know since he ended up out here but… he was a murderer.”

“So are we according to that logic.” Damascus pointed out, following a train of thought that I would rather have left unconsidered. I had never been willing to give my father the benefit of the doubt, not even now.

“Commissary framed me, but I’d rather just forget about it.” I dismissed, quickly averting further inquiry into the nature of my damnation. “But what happened to you? You’re not a murderer?”

“I am, now, and for that I try to repent with every action and every breath, but when I left the Stable I carried inside me, a soul as uncorrupted and pure as yours. But a soul is easily sullied, especially in dark times such as these, where looking to the Goddesses can be our only salvation.”

“So you’re a member of the Faith, I guess that’s where the symbol link comes from.” I said gesturing to the covered side of my flank. “My father was a follower, I’m not, but I understand what your point is, I almost killed a pony in my very first minutes outside of the Stable.”

“Don’t be afraid to kill, we will all be judged in the life after this one, but deploying a little judgment of our own is a justifiable method to speed up the process. If it will benefit this mortal plane to kill somebody then there isn’t anything wrong with helping them on their way to the next one. But if your judgment ever fails then make up for your sins through your actions, whether you believe or not. It is this belief that has kept me so busy; I have a lot to make up for.” He sounded like he was giving a confession.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you’re awfully devout for somepony who has been away from the Stable, the Faith, for so long.” My curiosity for the world I found myself in was giving way to questions about the past, about the world I had come out of.

“I would be,” he said knowingly “But that is a discussion for another time, there is a balance between work to do and questions to ask that must be upheld. For now, there are more important things you must know, if you are willing to walk this path, there is much you can do to spread the Good News, or create it.”

“Like the DJ.” I remarked. If anypony that I had encountered so far was a force for good, he was.

“How apt that you would bring him up, prophetic almost, but again our focus will come to that later. For now I must deal with the Coltilde, it is a shame that your arrival here coincided with theirs; we could have talked at length were it not for these dangerous circumstances.”

“I’m not going to leave without offering help. What can I do?” I hoped it involved putting those slavers out of commission, but when he said he had to ‘deal with’ them it didn’t seem to imply what I had in mind.

“I know you are concerned about the train but I must ask you not to act on that yet. I am responsible for the deal between them and this place, I have always been a leader to Hell and it was my sworn duty to protect it from the control of sinners, despite the town’s origin. I will reassure you, however, that what we can work towards together will not only benefit us, but the entire Wasteland.” He used the term wasteland as if that was what Equestria had come to be known as, just like DJ Pon3 had.

“Is that all it is? Equestria I mean, is this all that’s left? Violence and radiation, with ponies just barely surviving as the land rots their flesh and scars their bodies.” I asked.

“There is always Hope, faith, there are settlements dotted all over Equestria, and some could even be called thriving bastions of civilization based on their size and prosperity. Raiders, criminals and the ever-present shadow of Death may seem to be in control, as it is undeniable that power can come from a disregard for morals, and for good. And if the promise of eternal salvation is not enough reason to stay pure then nothing will be. But we can fight these evils, we can deny these temptations, and we can change this wasteland into Equestria. We just need to believe.”

“How bad is the Coltilde situation? I thought that the deal you’ve struck up was cowardly and selfish but hearing you talk makes it hard to imagine you agreeing to something like that. The situation must be pretty desperate if you resorted to opposing your beliefs.” I found myself trusting Damascus, his intentions seemed pure and it was clear that his faith drove him to regret his interactions with the Slavers so far.

“I pay for it every day, but my repentance means nothing if other ponies still suffer for my actions. I know the train would have ravaged those other towns regardless of our dealings, but to feed it, to house it, that is something I must atone for. What I needed was time, it has been only a few years since I made that deal, even since I came back here. Our initiative is small and weak but our drive is strong, we can be a rallying force, and we can make allies, become powerful enough to finally stop this railway, to take the ability they have to abduct ponies from across the wasteland away from them.” He said passionately.

“So how can I help?” I asked eagerly

“Based on your attitude so far, I think you will be of great benefit to this cleansing. I would ask you to do something small for us first, you cannot be in town while the Coltilde is here, and the longer I am away, the more suspicious they will get.”

“So you just want me to stay out of town until the train leaves? Not the noblest task, but I see the logic behind it. Couldn’t I do anything to help while I’m away?” I offered.

“Of course, we all go through periods of darkness. In such times we can always turn to the Goddesses, but it is good to have friends.” He smiled. “A mercenary is a pony who takes on assignments for money, but a good mercenary is one who is driven to successfully complete their tasks by their own motivation. Money can only go so far as an incentive, there has to be something more propelling them on their course.” Damascus threw around proverbs and sayings like nopony’s business, I thought to myself.

“Don’t worry, money seems like more of a deterrent to me, if something is truly worthy of being done then money shouldn’t be necessary to get somepony to do it.” I said because I can say deep, meaningful stuff too. “Just point me in the right direction.”

“I think you two will get along well together.” He mused, almost to himself. “I speak of mercenaries because to the East of here is one that I sent out to deal with a little raider problem, with which I would like you to help. As much as I admire your innocence, I’m afraid that, if you’re going to be a part of this, then you’ll need to know how to fight, how to survive…how to kill.” He gauged my reaction as he spoke the last word, though I didn’t balk, he was right, I had seen raiders, I had heard how dangerous they were from the DJ, how undeserving of mercy or naïve consideration.

“If they can’t be reasoned with and continuously threaten the safety of others then death is the best thing I could provide for them. The world seems to be struggling enough without that anarchic band of sadists spread across it.” I answered the question he had implied: could I kill somepony?
Though I wasn’t entirely sure of the answer.

“Glad to see you know what has to be done, I’ll get Charon to meet you on the ridge south of town with a weapon. I would prefer if he could go with you but I need to keep at least one other pony who knows how to use a gun around town, just in case.” He began to head back to the staircase that he had come down after he gestured to the one on the opposite side of the room. I would have to sneak out of town.

“I already have a gun.” I reassured him.

“Wars aren’t won by diplomacy; it all comes down to which side is better armed. Any preferences?”

I succumbed to his offer and asked with a small smile.
“Well… I wouldn’t complain if you happened to have a Tri-Beam laser rifle lying around.”

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I had exited the cellar by the same way I had entered it, and I clambered up the staircase out into the cold night. Oddly enough the sky seemed brighter than it had before as the clouds were illuminated by the light of the moon and stars behind it. I wondered if they would ever go away and let me see what I had only ever read about, the Princesses purpose. Usually it would rain, or more likely snow, before the clouds dispersed, but I doubted things worked as they were supposed to anymore. The only Pegasus I had seen had been much too busy trying to evaporate me to bother with regulating the weather.

After jumping the wall out of town, looking back to see the shadowy form of the Coltilde visible in the filtered moonlight, I headed south towards the ridge from which me and Charon had watched the train approach. Waiting on the overlook, I saw that the towns’ lights were still mostly off, it must have been midnight or early morning possibly, but I knew that the lights weren’t dimmed simply because it was bedtime in Hell. I imagined wide awake ponies shivering in the darkness just waiting for the Slavers to pull away in their black machine, so that they could sleep knowing that nothing was coming to steal them from their beds. Even though I had never met one, I was fairly sure I hated Slavers.

After a time, Charon showed up, creeping up the ridge as I had, trying not to draw any attention to us. When he reached the top he began loading up my saddlebags without a word.

“Charon, wait, I can’t just take all these things from you.” I argued. He dropped the small box of ammunition clenched in his mouth into my bag and gave me a look. He then proceeded to take the scrap and bottlecaps I had found in the supermarket out of my bag and place them into his.

“Now its trade.” He said. “Bottlecaps are currency.”

“That’s a cute game, but you can’t just give that random junk value and give me quality ammunition in exchange.” I was all for being prepared to fight raiders but from what Damascus had said it sounded like the town would need this ammunition more, if worse came to worse.

“Bottlecaps are currency.” He insisted as he dropped a bottle of water into my saddlebags. Even a small amount of water, food and ammunition was worth more than what few scraps and caps I had, but he wasn’t budging in his resolve. After he was done taking my payment he presented me with my new gun. An AEP7 laser pistol, a gun that was durable enough to fire over seven hundred shots before needing critical repair, and capable of firing three shots a second, ten seconds of continuous firing before reload. I wasn’t actually expecting a Tri-beam, and was pleased enough that I had gotten an energy weapon. At least now I had a gun that I knew how to efficiently reload and maintain.

“Thanks Charon, this is great! It’s even got modified focused optics!” I said as he strapped the gun, within a holster, to my upper hind leg. I practiced drawing it and holstering it with my telekinesis, resisting firing it to avoid putting on a light show for the Slavers.

“Stay away from the rails but follow the highway east until you see a toll booth; do not go near it until you find the mercenary posted nearby. You’ll get your orders from there.” Explained the buck, his voice trailing off, as he had already begun descending the ridge.

“I’ll assume that’s your way of saying goodbye and that you’ll miss me!” I exclaimed after him, whispering of course, but loud enough so he would hear. “Keep safe, Charon,” He looked back and me and gave a respectful nod acknowledging my mortal need to be acknowledged. I let out a little giggle of delight, this felt awfully close to professional, military even. I was getting orders, not requests; I was off to teach evil a thing or two instead of deliver papers to the…Overmare.

I was going to probably ending up having to kill somepony, put a beam or a bullet through their head…just to make a tiny dent in the mass of horrors and dangers that now swamped Equestria.

Bleh…Thinking about the Stable made me depressed, I’d try to avoid doing that anymore! Probably not healthy to block out the emotions of my past, but I was a soldier on the front lines of justice now! Emotions are for little fillies! I bounded towards the highway with a spring in my step, a spring that was undeniably a little artificial.

Once I reached the highway, I took some time to examine my Pip-Buck to see what else it had automatically recorded in its data banks. The Station was now labeled with a solid marker for ‘discovered’ as well as another for ‘Middle Passage Intersection’ which I was currently standing in. This valley must be one of three, I deduced, the one to the north was clearly there, it’s own northern mountain range made evident by the towering behemoth now visible in the moonlight, silhouetted by the starlight in the exposed sky that I could no longer see. There must therefore be another valley over the southern mountain range, making this the one in the middle of the triplicate. Or they could have called it ‘Middle Passage’ for another reason, I don’t know.

I also noticed that my inventory was being catalogued, divided into weapons, armor, aid, miscellaneous and ammo sub-categories. Miscellaneous was now empty after Charon’s ‘trading’ where he had taken most of my supermarket loot, apart from the medical braces, filed under ‘aid’, as well as the frag grenades and ammunition. I checked the time displayed on the device, it was way off, it had to be early morning at least. I reminded myself to correct it later. My own perception of time had been greatly skewed because of the near sleepless night before the trial. I hadn’t gotten any real sleep in over forty-eight hours, but my excitement would keep me going for a couple more, hopefully.

Dark was the night, Cold was the ground and I hummed to myself as I walked on the nearly icy gravel, my way made clear by only the streetlights in an otherwise black world. It was an eerie feeling, occasionally a rock outcropping or the skeleton of a tree on either side of the highway would be visible in the white light, like the earth was trying to encroach on this road, but couldn’t. Apart from those few exceptions everything aside from the highway was reduced to a void, all the way to the shadows of the mountains contrasting with the lighter sky. It was just me and my path, with the dim gray and white sky above us, a shifting pattern of clouds that made it look like the very heavens were tearing apart. Time seemed to move along quickly as I passed streetlight after streetlight and white line after white line on the road itself.

If my objective wasn’t lying on the asphalt directly ahead of me, I might have easily passed it, but that’s the nature of a toll booth, it’s unavoidable. It looked like a gate in the distance, with the colors of red and yellow as well as the usual white fluorescent shining dimly from it, blinking. I had no idea where to go. I knew that I was supposed to meet somepony near here, but whom and where I did not. The street was especially lit up for a short distance away from the toll; a tall metal fence bordered it on either side, forcing approaching travelers to head directly through it. I knew I didn’t want to end up in there, otherwise I would be lit up and trapped in the sights of several assumed raiders.

Instead, I headed off the road to find one of the possible pieces of escalated land around; I needed higher ground to scope out the area. I had gone far enough east to reach what, in the daylight, had appeared to be mostly flat land and my choices for a nearby increase in altitude were numbered. The brighter lights on this stretch of highway made it easier to find my way to a sloping ridge on my left, whose face was towards the toll, and whose slope was towards me, perfect.

I scampered over the rocks, which seemed to appear just in time for my hooves to inevitably collide with them mid-step, and was almost at the top of the slope when I heard the subtle, metallic click.

“Don’t shoot me.” I whispered, having recognized the sound for what it was.

“Don’t make me.” Came the reply, a mare’s voice whispering through the darkness.

“I’m Grace, and I really wish I had some kind of code word or something to set you at ease. But Damascus didn’t give me one. Will Damascus work?” I asked. “If so then: Damascus.”

What I thought I heard next almost sounded like a giggle, but it was quickly converted into the kind of sound somepony would only make if they were trying to make a giggle sound tough.
“Alright, Guns holstered Grace.” The voice reassured me, after it had recovered.

“Oh…mine wasn’t drawn, I probably should have had it drawn, thinking back.” I murmured.

“I don’t blame you, from what I hear you’re fresh out of the box.” I was trying to find my way towards the voice. Thankfully, as I got closer to the top of the slope, light from the toll made it easier to see.

“Yeah, I just left the Stable…” I paused as I side-stepped a loose rock “Yesterday afternoon.”

“Damn,” she almost sounded impressed. “That e-ffectively makes you just about a few hours old. Welcome to the world baby girl, I hope you aren’t too disappointed that your first great adventure in the Equestrian Wasteland is going to be a stake-out.” She sounded a little underwhelmed herself.

“Stake-out? I thought we were here to clear the raiders from that toll booth. Make the wasteland a safer place… and all that.” I wasn’t upset, just a little surprised

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that. We just need to watch them for a few hours first. Get to know the neighbors before we encourage them to move out. Then we’ll get to work on… all that.” She explained, using my own vague terminology.

“The way Damascus had talked about raiders didn’t make it seem like he needed us to gather evidence against them.” I couldn’t focus on finding my way up the dark, unpredictable rocks while hearing anything interesting so I opted to stop and stand still for a while.

“We’re here because the Coltilde is in town, and that means its slavery season. It’s like one of those pre-war travelling circuses…except really, really awful.” Despite her odd analogy, her tone as she said ‘awful’ indicated that the Slavers upset her as much as they did me, disgusted her even.
“What’re you doing, standing all wonky on that rock? Come over to the edge and get comfortable, we’re going to be here for a while.” She added.

“You can see me?”

“Yep, while I have stra-te-gi-cally placed myself in the shadow of this here ridge by staying close to the ground, you are precariously perched on that rock for all to see.” She sounded out the longer words oddly, not as if she struggled to pronounce them but more like she enjoyed saying them.
“Just get low and slide yourself to the edge here, if the raiders can’t hear us talking they certainly aren’t going to hear a few rocks shifting around.”

I took her advice and slid uncomfortably close to the end of the ridge, the lights illuminated the toll booth below and I realized how effective a viewpoint this was. My face was still lit up in the white light as I sat down near the edge but I doubted the raiders would see anything at this distance. A slumped shadow next to me, that I realized looked a lot like a curled up pony, began to move. The mare quietly straightened herself out into a sitting position beside me. Her posture was a little slumped but I could tell that she would be a little taller than me if we were standing.

“I’m Caliber, glad to meet you.” She extended her hoof for an introductory shake.

Caliber was a slightly yellowy brown mare with a few white freckles just above her nose. Her mane was auburn with light red tips and was cut fairly short, but still appeared a little wavy, even poofy. At the front it curved upwards as it did around her ears. Her right ear was missing a small chunk at the tip and on the left side of her head, at her temple, was a faded bandage. Her eyes were a vivid brown.

“Grace.” I returned her vigorous hoof-shake. “How are you?”

“Um…” she seemed confused by the question, her eyebrow arched. “What do you mean? I’m not injured.”

“Don’t ponies ask that anymore? It’s just a question that’s exchanged to check in on somepony you start a conversation with. Or if you’re greeting somepony you know passing by.” I explained.

“I can’t imagine how much time that would waste, I mean, you ask this to everybody?” She almost seemed perplexed.

“Well you don’t actually answer; you’re supposed to just say something like: ‘Fine’ or ‘Good, and how about you?’ You don’t really say anything, not even if there’s something wrong. If you’re having a bad day you would still answer quickly and positively to be polite. It really doesn’t take up any time at all.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do it at all if it doesn’t accomplish anything?”

“It’s good manners.”

“Manners?”

“Never mind…”

“Okay, just remember that I’m not going to know what to do if you ask that again.” She said.

“Noted,” The brief exchange had completely distracted me from what I was supposed to be doing, which was finding out what I was supposed to be doing. “So… why the stake-out?”

“Well, like I was saying, we’re on the lookout for Slavers. See, Raiders are dangerous but they aren’t organized, we may call them all by the same name but if two separate groups of them ever met they’d probably just attack each other. Hell, I’ve been here just a couple of hours and I’ve already seen a Raider buck kill one of the others, tore him apart with just his teeth.” She paused and took in my look of disgust.
“Nasty, I know, but that’s my point. Raiders are like animals; there are a lot of them, but they aren’t ever going to take advantage of their numbers to get any kind of power. Not without organization.”

“So Damascus thinks that the Slavers are trying to rally the raiders? Why would they even try that if they’re as dangerous as they sound?” I asked the head, floating in the darkness beside my own.

“The Raiders aren’t complete degenerates; some of them still have enough sense to strategize. They’ve been turning in ponies to the Slavers. Who we know are expanding; that very railway line does a full circuit through Northern Equestria, and chances are their going to try to get these savages to help.”

“So if we want to beat the Slavers we need to know what we’re up against.” I summarized.

“Sorry Gracie, but we’re not beating anybody, the Slavers are just as spread out as the Raiders, we cut off the head of one snake and they’ll still be plenty left in the grass.”

“But we can take this railway out of commission, you said yourself that it allows the Slavers to abduct ponies from all over Equestria, we could put a stop to that.” I resolved.

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re working towards a worthy goal, and it certainly isn’t going to be easy. But slavery is not an opponent you can fight and defeat, it’s an idea. And you can’t kill and idea.”

A silence that felt neither uncomfortable nor unwarranted followed as Caliber gave me a final look of almost pitying sympathy before she turned her attention back to the toll. She knew I needed a minute to think, she understood that I had ideals that had yet to broken, an instilled hope for the world that I desperately, if naively, clung on to.

I didn’t like what she was saying, but it was true, I was setting my sights too high, to impossible levels. Nopony could truly cleanse the wasteland, just as nopony could truly save Equestria. There would always be something wrong with the world, things were never perfect, and they never had been. But the difference between the past and the present was that now, law was gone, regulation was gone, and the true nature of ponies came out, for better or worse. Anarchy let crimes like slavery, rape and murder go unpunished, and left the ponies of the Equestrian Wasteland alone, to sin and to suffer.

“Caliber?” I drew the attention of the pretty, but weathered, face beside me. “I’m not going to give up, and I can tell that you haven’t either. Whether you say you’re fighting for a dying Equestria, as I plan to do, or just for the ponies who live in its corpse, we’re both here for a reason, we are willing to try.” I waved my hoof around in the air, blindly searching for her shoulder, and then rested my hoof on it.

She pondered what I had said for a moment. “I’m sorry if I put a damper on your fresh perspective; it’s hard to look on the bright side when you’ve never really seen it, you just have to try and believe it’s there while all the bad whittles away at your resolve. It gets harder the longer you’re exposed to it all, but you’re right, I still believe there are things worth fighting for.” She reassured. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Maybe we should have waited before we got ourselves this psyched up.” I said, smiling at her. “A lot of good all this faith in ponykind and hope for a better world does us while we’re just sitting on a ridge.”

“Yeah,” she giggled “Strategy takes all the fun out of things.”

I rolled onto my back to look up at the dark clouds, hooves hovering above my body. The thick coat bore the brunt of the rocks that would otherwise be uncomfortably pressing against my spine “So what are ponies supposed to do on Stake-outs? Aside from the obvious of course.”

“I think we can assume by now that the Slavers are staying in town tonight, meaning the Coltilde won’t be leaving until morning. So if we want to be fresh when the action starts I think one of us should get some sleep, while the other keeps watch for a Slaver messenger, or any other sign of an alliance forming between those bastards.”

“So how do I know for sure if it’s him, I mean we’re just speculating that a messenger will show up. What if something else happens?” I asked, ready to take on the role of lone watchmare.

“You have the roles I had in mind reversed.” She corrected me.

“Caliber, you’ve been out here all night, you deserve a rest. I promise you, I can handle it.”

“I had seven solid hours of sleep just last night, and I’ve done nothing more exciting than hang around in Hell and sit on this ridge since then. I’m sure leaving your Stable and having more new experiences than you’ve probably had in the last ten years was a walk in the park for you, but I still think you need some sleep.” She insisted. I tried to convince myself that she was wrong but my understandably tired mind wasn’t invested in the internal argument.

“Alright, thanks. I suppose it’s better if we have the pony who is least likely to pass out on guard.”

“Exactly, I’ll wake you when I decide that it’s morning.” She held her left yellowy brown leg into the light and glanced at small device strapped on by a band. “Oh, and enjoy your dreams, I gua-ran-tee they aren’t going to be the same after tomorrow.” She added grimly.

She didn’t know that I had already seen a bucks head explode close enough to coat my face in gore. As well as one of my only friends sprawled in her own blood in the place that I thought was the safest in Equestria. Realizing that both those things had happened since the last time I had gotten any real rest, I convinced myself that I undoubtedly needed to sleep. I had gotten tired before for so much less…

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Salvation waits in the realms of our forefathers, supplement your soul before you enter the Kingdom of the Skies. Regurgitate your sin, kill the part of you who propagates it, and make your Goddesses proud. Make yourselves worthy, worthy of redemption, of forgiveness, do so before you leave the mortal coil, or spend eternity in the cold darkness of another nether. You were baptized in blood and walked the road to Damascus, to me, your path has been changed but you must still follow it. Adapt to your new life or be undone by it, it doesn’t matter to the Goddesses; your eternal soul is all that is at stake. For every sin I have committed, for every life I have ended, I repent, by word or by bullet. Learn to do the same, or the wasteland will consume you on the deepest level, learn to judge, or die.

You were a necessary sacrifice. You saved the Stable, after you had doomed it. You and that naïve mare, two idealists in a world filled with unattainable ideals. She died by your actions, by her intentions and by my word. It doesn’t matter who pulled the trigger, the three of us were what brought about her death, your damnation and the Stable’s salvation. I am not a savior, I did what needed to be done, and the two of you were not murderers, you strove for what you believed in. But you would have killed us all, and I stopped that from happening. That is the unavoidable, irrefutable truth. We created a balance, you and I, with Shady Sands in the middle. We are both responsible for her death; we are both responsible for saving the Stable. We have both made sacrifices that weren’t ours to make.

My little Gracie, I like the sound of that, Grace Marie, my little girl. What do you think, darling? *giggles* I suppose it does sound a little fancy… Grace Mary doesn’t seem quite right though. Your distant grandmother, the one in the logs, her name was Marie, wasn’t it? Please say you like it… Oh, thank you darling… She’s got your eyes, look, brilliant gold… I know…I know… Let’s not think about that right now, okay? I just want this moment to be perfect, I want to remember it for the miracle that it is. The Goddesses have blessed us with her; they’ve given us a gift, another chance, New Life.

…Can I hold her?

They aren’t all worth saving. Some of them are beyond it. We are taught that all can repent and be redeemed in the eyes of the Goddesses, but I am not Celestia, I am not Luna. I am not above the need for vengeance, the desire to harm those who harm me, I am not above sin. Neither are you.

Equestria is dead; we cannot bring it back, at least not yet. The Faith holds on to their Goddesses and old-world lore but we know the truth. Celestia is dead, Luna is dead, and Equestria is dead. We are all that is left, and that War is not going to be the end of us too. We will survive, even if we must sacrifice.

Hush now, Quiet now, it’s time to lay sleepy head. Hush now, Quiet now it’s time to go to bed… Hush now quiet now may Luna guide you through the night. Hush now, Quiet now, until the morning light. Goodnight Gracie… Honey… Oh, come and see… I think she’s dreaming…Honey?

I confess my crimes… but I do not regret them. I repent for my sins, and hope that the Goddesses will not pass the same judgment that you have. If they do, then my true damnation awaits. Forgive me…

Let the light inside you burn brighter than the sun and you will not lose your way in the darkness.

Sacrifices need to be made, irrespective of who makes the decision, of who has the right to make them.

Your daddy can’t be with us anymore Darling. He loved us, I know he did, but he had to leave.

I love you Sweetheart…

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Darkness breached and black became white as I opened my eyes to another endless void. I was still on my back and I quickly realized I was staring up at the sky, but it had changed. The clouds were gone replaced with a white haze, lower in the atmosphere, blanketing the shorter mountains and occluding the tallest ones, cutting off the only borders that I knew. It was day, the sun was up somewhere and the air was pale, the haze seemed to spread vertically as well as horizontally, affecting parts of the surface. The farthest reaches of my vision were as undefined as the sky, the bases of both mountain ranges were visible but the stretches of land to the east and west faded into the pale.

I had been observing my surroundings by twisting my neck, arching my back to look behind me, and scrunching my upside-down body to look ahead of me. I was too fascinated by the blanket of thick air that I neglected to sit up and spare myself the exertion. I heard a soft laugh.

“Sit up before you pop a vertebra.” Caliber said as she helped me up. “Also: Good morning.”

“’Morning,” I yawned. “What time is it?”

“Six-Thirty, you were out for almost four hours.” Said the mare, whose light, toned body was now visible in the light. I was not used to fitness… it certainly looked nice.

She wore a navy-blue vest with a black collar, a white scarf wrapped around low on her neck, tied in a large round knot and tucked neatly into the vest. White bands around her upper front and hind legs and a black pistol holstered on her left front leg. Her tail was cut in a thick, medium wave of red and her cutie-mark sat exposed on her flank. At first it looked like a simple black crosshairs bordering a small white area within.

“Isn’t it winter? Why is the sun…around?” In the Stable there wasn’t much difference between winter and summer, apart from the holidays, but I had read that days used to be shorter in the year’s late months.

“I wouldn’t hold the sun and the moon to anything anymore, they can be…unpredictable.” I gave her a concerned look. “Don’t worry; day and night follow after each other every time, but on rare occasions, they say unusual things can happen.” She waved booth her hooves in the air as she said ‘unusual’.

“Like what?”

“I’ll let them surprise you,” she personified the sun and moon. “How did you sleep?” she glanced at the toll, the streetlights were still on and there was more visible activity from the raiders. “Don’t worry, nothing’s happened yet and the Coltilde is still in town.” She added as a forethought.

“I had an odd dream.” I answered dismissively.

“Well, you might as well tell me about it, I’m curious as to what took my job of waking you up. You get startled or something? Was it a nightmare?” She must have gotten bored staring at the same strip of highway for the last four hours, so I obliged.

“I can’t remember how it all fit together but it was kind of all over the place. Were you… were you singing at all? Like a lullaby?” I inquired; the song I had heard in my dream was unfamiliar to me.

“Singing lullabies isn’t the best way to keep yourself alert and awake.”

“I heard a song that I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. My mother was singing it to me...”

“Maybe it was a memory; everything you’ve ever experienced is stored somewhere in your sub-conscious, and your mind can’t just make stuff up out of nowhere as you dream.” She explained.

“I didn’t think anypony out here would care about that kind of stuff.” I was surprised at her seemingly random knowledge on the subject.

“I like dreams; I found a book on them, partly, when I was a little filly, kept it around until I could understand it. It helped me learn how to read.” She took a moment to think. “Sounds to me like your mind was digging up old memories to cope with what you have to deal with in the present. A dream with your mother singing you a lullaby is probably how you’re trying to comfort yourself.”

“That’s impressive. But I’d rather not analyze it…” The rest of the dream hadn’t exactly been comforting.

“If you say so, but we’ve got time to kill.” She poked her wrist-machine. “Though I’m sure you’ve got questions about plenty of the things you’ve seen so far.”

“I’d like to know about you…” The mercenary seemed surprised.

“Of all the cool shit you’ve seen out here…” I nodded. “Not Damascus or Charon or Hell or Guns or anything like that?” Another nod. “Why?”

“I like to learn about things myself, make a puzzle out of it, if I wanted to know about any of those things I would look into them. The best way to learn about you… is to talk to you. And as you said; that’s all I can really do until the train leaves.”

“Alright, but don’t come crying to me when you try and figure out the Raiders by talking to them.” She teased. “Ask away.”

“Are you Cold?” I asked, she wasn’t wearing anything but her vest and I was sitting there in three layers.

“That’s a little too personal.” She smiled. “I’m fine, thick coat.” she made reference to her natural coat that couldn’t possibly be as protective as my brown material one.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” I huddled my face into the collars of my coat and vest, advertising the warmth that she was denying. She really didn’t seem to be affected by the crisp morning air though, and shrugged off my offer. “Okay then, what got you into mercenary work?”

“I’ve had to take care of myself for most of my life, I got good at fighting, and I fell in love with a gun. I’ve had to do some work that I regret but ever since I started working for Damascus I’ve been feeling pretty useful. He always has me do stuff like this, raider sweeps or scouting missions, good work.”

“You fell in love with a gun?” I asked, neglecting my curiosity towards what work she regretted.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds, after a while you start to feel a connection with your tools of trade, especially when your only constant in life is said tool. That gun has saved my hide and brought me more prosperity than any living pony ever has.” She spoke about it like it was her partner.

“That pistol?” I referred to the black 9 millimeter holstered on her leg. It seemed ordinary.

“No! This two-bit piece of salvage could never compare to my baby!” I could almost hear the pistol whimper as it was depreciated. “My Apollo is a masterpiece of a weapon, a Marksman’s Carbine, sleek and deadly, it’s even got my cutie-mark spray painted onto the side. I’ve had that gun for ten years. I wasn’t even big enough to use it properly when I first got it.” I realized that she was an earth pony, seeing both her head and her body I could now confirm she had neither a horn nor wings. I wondered how she used a carbine effectively.

“So where is…she?” Caliber had called it her baby, I doubted that she still thought of the gun as an ‘it’.

“In the room I’ve been staying in back at Hell. I had a battle-saddle rig set up so I could fire it while it was attached to my side, but the damn thing fell apart in the middle of combat and I haven’t been able to find anyone who can fix it yet. I certainly can’t use it with my mouth, it’s too heavy. So… the pistol.”

“What’s wrong with the pistol?” She didn’t seem to like it very much.

“It’s just not the same.” She sighed. “It’s a generic thing from the hoof-full of weapons Damascus could spare.” I presumed she had not taken as much of a liking towards the laser pistol as I had. “If I didn’t need it to postpone death more effectively then I would just fight with my hooves.”

“Well I’ve got a spare pistol,” I levitated out the gun I got upon leaving the Stable. “My Pip-buck says it’s pretty effective, and I prefer energy weapons anyway.” I had no idea what I would prefer in combat but I certainly had a better idea in how to operate and maintain a laser pistol.

“Ooooooooh…” she stared at the weapon floating in my golden grasp, its hilt glinting and barrel shining. “I mean… Um,” She was entranced by it; I swung it back and forth in the air for additional effect. “That’s just not fair…” Her head bobbed from side to side as her eyes followed the gun. “I…couldn’t, I would feel bad taking one of your weapons.” Her eyes said different.

“Exchanging…” I copied Charon’s tactic and floated Caliber’s own pistol out of her holster and into mine, then placed the levitated gift at her hooves. I proceeded to float out all the ammunition I had for it.

“Oh wow… Thank you, Grace.” She really liked guns. “This is the nicest thing anypony’s ever given me.” Her tone implied that she wasn’t exaggerating. I felt a pang of pity as I assumed she had spent her life alone; and had probably gotten very few gifts aside from this one. She hugged me. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” I returned the brief embrace “You’ll probably hit more of your targets than I would.” She gave me another touchingly grateful look before examining the gun. She threw it up in the air and caught it in her mouth, I flinched as I feared it would hit her teeth, but she expertly maneuvered it to face directly towards her line of sight. She winked one eye closed and aimed at the Raiders, lining up shots that she wouldn’t take, and then smoothly holstered the gun. Earth ponies were incredible.

“I’m almost excited to use it,” she grinned “Here, you’ll need some ammo for the nine millimeter,” she fished in her discarded satchel and tossed me a couple of boxes, I felt a little clumsy even as I primly caught them with my magic. It almost felt like cheating.

We settled back down and turned our attention back to the toll, I didn’t like watching the raiders when they were all awake, the toll itself was bad enough in the light. Wire bags of red, bloody meat lay around the booths and incredibly mutilated corpses were nailed to several surfaces. Skulls and even decapitated heads stuck up out of the gaps in the highway on pikes. Blood coated the road. The distance numbed me to the un-godly decorations but I knew that up close, the smell and the detail may well overwhelm me.

“How much longer until the train leaves?” I was angry at the monsters that had been fighting and fornicating before us, and felt ill at ease watching them. I too was anticipating getting to use my new gun.

“Any time now, the Slavers usually get an early start, I just hope the mist doesn’t dissuade them from leaving.” She answered.

“Mist?”

“You’ve notice how it kind of feels like we’re inside a cloud?” I didn’t know if this was what it was like to be inside a cloud but I saw what she meant and nodded. “This is natural, sort of, happens in the morning sometimes. Something to do with the valley funneling in cold, moist night air or something.” She shrugged, not seeming to care about the cause.

“Why would this stop them from leaving?”

“A mix of Superstition and practical concern. This stuff limits your vision when you’re in it, so a certain distance down the tracks will seem invisible to them, and they like to scan the land around them for settlements or wanderers. It probably won’t stop them though, don’t worry.” I was more worried about the settlements and wanderers.

“So what do we do once they’re gone?” I was getting antsy and wanted to talk about what we were planning, to make it seem like it was going to happen sooner.

“That depends on whether or not the Slavers show up; if they don’t then we can tell Damascus that the Raiders aren’t aligned with them yet.”

“How do we know they didn’t go to some other group of raiders?” I queried

“Charon and I have been on scouting assignments ever since the train’s last cycle ran; this is the only spot the raiders have been present at with any sort of permanence. At least, the only spot in the Middle Passage. It’s the best we can do, but you’re right, if they don’t show up then we can’t really rule out the possibility. We would have just wasted a lot of time.” She clarified.

“You don’t mean we’re just going to leave if nopony comes?”

“They’re still raiders, and after everything I’ve been watching them do…to each other no less…” she shuddered. “Don’t worry, once the Coltilde leaves we have nothing to gain from these sick sons of bitches.” I understood.

“And if a slaver correspondent does show up?”

“We keep the raider he talks to alive; interrogate him, if we’re lucky he might even receive a dossier or written orders. Hard evidence would be preferable. Raiders are hard to interrogate; some of them even seem to enjoy torture,” I gave her a concerned look at the word, Caliber perceived my reluctance.
“I understand if you don’t want to be a part of that, if it comes down to It.”

“I don’t think I could bring myself to... I understand what they are, but… surely nopony deserves torture.” The thought was difficult for me to process. Who was I to say who was deserving of mercy? Surely ponies who raped and pillaged to their own contentment deserved no sympathy. However I couldn’t help but feel unable to come to terms with the concept. What they deserved wasn’t the issue, it was what methods I would resort to, how far I would go to do what was necessary.

“Like I said… I’ll understand.” She confirmed. ”Let’s hope we can avoid that. While the raiders benefit from a…unique attitude towards harsher interrogation, they don’t have a single shred of Loyalty.”

“So they’re selfish, they won’t endanger themselves for the Slavers benefit.” I concluded.

“Right, if we’re lucky the coward will tell us everything we need to know as soon as he realizes he’s in trouble. He might even try to run once we drop some of his friends, so be ready.” I nodded.

A train whistle sounded off in the distance. I made eye contact with Caliber as we both realized that the time to act was fast approaching. The slavers were getting ready to leave, if anypony was going to show up then it would have to be now. The tracks to the north were barely visible in the mist, but as soon as the monstrous black machine that was the Coltilde came charging through the pale, we would know the Slaver’s window had closed. It would finally be time to charge the toll, time for my first kill.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Inspired Loyalty: Your good-nature and willingness to give and volunteer inspires loyalty in others. When you drop below 50% health your companions temporarily gain much greater resistance to damage. If you had been a jerk this whole time it’s likely they would’ve made you beg a little before helping.

Next Chapter: Chapter 5: Ashes Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 41 Minutes