Fallout Equestria: A Light Shining in Darkness

Chapter Three
“We all make choices…”

Alive!

I was alive.

Well… when I say alive, I mean that my brain felt like it had been squeezed through a meat mincer, every muscle and bone in my body was screaming out in blistering agony, and my throat was so impossibly dry that it felt like my tongue was a hunk of dried leather.

But… I was still alive.

The first thing I noticed when I slowly started to come too, aside from the pain, were the faintest sounds of a crowd on the edge of my hearing before growing slightly louder and louder. The second thing was the smell of something sweet drifting in on a cold breeze ticked my nostrils, almost reminding me of Grandpa’s apple pies. The third thing was the very warm blanket I was laying under, it felt rough and scratchy, but to my tired body it felt heavenly.

My eyes opened slightly and glanced around, I was in some kind of hut/tent made of quilted, canvas-like fabrics with a couple of bedrolls and a few crates in the corners, a wooden mask of a strange looking, multicolored bird beak rested on a folding table next to a stack of old books. Thin plastic surgical tubing ran down from a hung up iv bag full of a thick milky fluid to a needle jabbed in my neck above my collarbone.

I turned to my left and was greeted by a strange looking assault rifle’s muzzle pointed at my head.

Looking past the weapon I noticed a zebra stallion wearing a dark green military uniform with a rampant zebra outlined by a golden sun on a dull crimson armband pinned around his left shoulder. He held the rifle in his hooves as he sat up in a defensive stance, his cold gray eyes glaring down at me.

Glancing back down at the rifle again, I didn’t recognize it’s model but I knew it definitely wasn’t made by Ironshod, judging by the bore diameter I guessed it was probably thirty caliber, maybe 7.62mm.

“Uhh… hello?” I horsely greeted him cautiously, the stallion just glared at me, “Do you understand me?”

He didn’t speak, but did nod slightly. Well… that was good at least, “Am I your prisoner?” again he didn’t speak, but he also didn’t move in a way that indicated that I was, “What’s your name?”

“Shut up, Stable Dweller,” he barked at me, in perfect Ponish without a hint of an accent at all, “The General will decide your fate when he returns.”

“Who’s the General?” I asked carefully, I got him talking this much at least, “Do you mean the war is still ongoing?”

“Ongoing?” the stallion asked, lowering his rifle slightly, “The war ended months ago.”

“Wait, months?” My ears shot up, how could that be possible? I leaned up on my elbows, “I thought it was two hundred years, the Stable’s mainframe said so.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, a little more confused and lowering his rifle more, “The Old Guard drove the Enclave out of the Bay several mo-”

“That’s quite enough, Tahka,” a feminine sounding voice sternly interrupted, filling the whole room.

My head whipped around and I saw quite possibly one of the most beautiful mares I’d ever seen, pony or zebra, standing in the doorway of the hut. I felt my heartbeat pick up a tempo or two.

She stepped up to the stallion and pushed him to the door, “I asked you to watch my patient, not hold a social gathering, get out of my home.”

“But, Saluem, it wasn’t my fault,” the stallion protested, glaring back at me, “He got up and-”

“OUT!” the mare shouted firmly, slamming the door in his face, she whipped around and offered me a very warm polite smile, “I apologize if Tahka acted… unprofessionally.”

“Uhh…” Was all I could say as I stared at her transfixed.

Despite probably being older than me, she was very lovely, her long mane was done up in alternating white and black dreadlocks with a few silver and gold rings that were pulled over her left shoulder, her earlobe had three rings in it, two gold and one silver, and her coat looked very exotic with it’s curling black stripes with a couple of circular pendants that looked to be made of colored bottle glass on necklaces, and a carved wood bangle on her left forehoof.

She wore a similar dark green uniform as the stallion, but she had a white armband on her right shoulder with a pink butterfly over a red cross, like Medical back in Stable Fifty-Two and finally a short barreled revolver with a crisp shiny black finish and red amber grips strapped into a black leather holster on her hip.

“Welcome to the Castrum, you may call me Saluem,” she cheerfully spoke the words with such grace, I felt my heartbeat pick up that little bit faster, she extended a hoof to me, “What’s your name?”

“O-Ozzy,” I stammered a little, shaking her hoof, why was I getting so damn nervous?

“Ozzy,” she murmured as she dug through her saddle bag with a matching butterfly and cross and pulled out a compact silver colored metal cylinder, a thermos and handed it to me, “Is it short for anything?”

“O-Ozymandias,” I admitted after a moment, I always felt a little self conscious about how weird it sounded and everybody back home just called me Ozzy anyways.

“Ozymandias…” Saluem mused, almost tasting my name, “I like it, sounds exotic.”

I grinned slightly, surely a name like Saluem was a little better than mine, I opened the very warm thermos and saw a peach colored creamy liquid inside that smelled of something sweet. I gave it an experimental lick and the pain in my tongue eased slightly.

“Healing potion,” Saluem confirmed my suspicions, she was leaning into a chest across the room giving me a good look at her trouser covered rear end, “Brewed up just this morning, Celia mixed in some honey from a Honey beast Queen the scouts found.”

We had healing potions back home, but they tasted like… coldness, having no real flavor. Don’t need any to do a job, right? This drink however, how did I ever stand them before this moment? The delicious tartness of the fruit spiked the honey as it dripped down my throat lessening the roughness. It pulled a comforting warmth into my chest that spread across my limbs loosening my stiff muscles and tired bones.

Saluem pulled out a mortar and pestle and started working on some strange looking herbs and a very strange looking fruit together with clean water. The fruit was a lumpy ball a little bigger than my hoof with a light sickly green yellow skin that was reasonably soft to my touch.

“Never seen a punga fruit before?” Saluem asked, holding out a hoof for the fruit, I shook my head, giving the fruit back, “Doesn’t surprise me, far as I know you can only find them here. They’re very nutritious and chalked full of vitamins, but they can be addictive if you don’t cook them right.”

I finished the potion and wiped off the excess on the back of my hoof. We sat in as the zebra mare added other roots and herbs turning the paste into a viscous ointment that she spread over a couple rolls of cloth bandages. She carefully placed them aside and reached down to pull the blanket from over me and that’s when I noticed I was naked. I quickly covered myself and earned a chuckle from the zebra mare.

“Goodness,” Saluem chuckled into her hoof, “It’s good to see someone so old can still be embarrassed about their body.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” I squeaked out, blushing profusely, and keeping my crotch covered, “Where’s my suit? And my saddle bag and pistol?”

“Safe,” Saluem calmly reassured me, “You had quite an experience the other day, you were shot… twice, suffered a minor concussion, moderate dehydration, and Arhem’s still patching up your suit and gear.”

I cocked my brow, “I don’t remember… getting shot.”

Saluem brought over a small mirror and handed it to me, in the cracked glass I saw the bandages wrapped around my forehead with my horn peeking out, looking down I saw the ones wrapped tightly around my arm and chest.

“Sometimes the brain doesn’t quite react to being injured if you’re in danger,” Saluem explained, readying the bandages, “In any case, one of the bullets just lightly grazed you and the second didn’t fragment and was easy enough to remove, they didn’t hit anything vital and the healing bandages seem to be working nicely, of course your PipBuck made it much easier to access the damage.”

We sat in silence as she carefully removed the needle from my neck and unwrapped the used bandages, I saw that they had dried blood on the inside, she placed them in a bag and dabbed a wet washcloth against the wounds on my chest preparing to wrap them with the fresh bandages.

“I might be able to help a bit,” I interjected, focusing my magic on my chest, its pink light warmed my hide around the wound, sealing up the remaining openings turning them into fresh scabs.

“You’re a healer?” Saluem asked, slightly astonished.

“My Mom was a doctor back home, she taught me some basic stuff so I’d be able to work with her and my Grandma, but that didn’t work out.”

“Sorry, my granduncle taught me almost everything I know, myself,” she said, “You might need at least another couple of days to rest,” Saluem said, wrapping the bandages on my chest just for a safety measure, putting the bag in her saddle bag, “Don’t worry, you’re considerably safer here than you would be out in the Hayseed Swamp alone.”

“Hayseed Swamp?”

“H-hey, I appreciate your help, but I’m kind of on a slightly tight schedule.”

“Whatever it is, it will have to wait, it won’t do you any good if you die, for right now just get some more rest,” she left without a further word.

I leaned back in my bed and thought about the slight torrent of events that just happened.

Zebras.

They’d slaughtered us by the millions and bathed our homeland in poisonous balefire radiation. Back in Stable Fifty-Two, they’d always been portrayed as Equestria’s enemies, the demonic, soulless, and villainous antithesis of ponykind.

I had never really paid it too much attention, it was just pre war propaganda after all. Was it really fair to paint Saluem by the sins of her ancestors from over two hundred years ago?

At least they’d let me stay here… for now.

*** *** ***

When my eyes opened again it was probably midday, with dull sickly green light casting from the doorway, and filling the small room. Saluem wasn’t around, but the zebra/unicorn filly from the other day was sitting beside my bed flicking through my PipBuck. She looked much better compared to the last time, her mane, coat and tail were cleaned and she had bandages covering her wounds under the smaller dark green uniform jacket she wore.

“What do you think you are doing?” I snapped, pulling my foreleg back.

“Auntie asked me to watch you while she got food,” she muttered, “I thought your puppy-thing had some music on it.”

“Firstly kid, it’s called a PipBuck,” I corrected the filly, who rolled her now magenta eyes, “Secondly, you gotta ask permission first.”

“YoU goTTa aSk PerMiSsIoN FirSt,” she sarcastically immated, rolling her eyes again blowing a raspberry, “My name ain’t kid, it’s Prysm.”

I glared at the filly before glancing down at my PipBuck’s radio, I noticed a new signal that I hadn’t seen before, flicking it on my radio sparked to life filling the small room with a stallion’s voice.

““Friends, ponies, rejoice! Although the world about you is bleak, scarred and poisoned by the war of honorless, thoughtless, inferior ponies of the past, we do not have to live in the shadow of their greed and wickedness. Together, we can raise Equestria back to its former beauty! Together, we can build a new kingdom where all live together in perfect unity! It’s already happening, my good ponies. Already, the foundation for a new and wonderful age is being built. Yes, it’s hard work, but don’t we owe it to ourselves and to the future generations of ponies, to be better? No, to be the best we can possibly be? I’m telling you now, as your friend, as your leader, that we can. We must. And we will!”

“What in Celestia’s name?” I muttered to myself, the voice oozed with the greasy charisma of a cult leader and reminded me far too much of the Overstallion.

The voice vanished and a high prancing tuba and flute duet started up, I flicked off my radio and just stared at it.

“You don’t know about Red Eye?” Prysm asked, her eyes turning a bright yellow in alarm slightly startled, “Missionaries from down south claim he’s been sent from your Goddesses to rebuild the world, but Papa says he’s just some high society, stable prancing, colt fucker.”

Shit, “Do your parents know you speak like that?” I asked crossly, checking my PipBuck.

There was a long stretch of silence as the filly looked down at her hooves, her eyes shifting to a more somber dark gray blue before quietly murmuring, “Mama’s gone, I don’t know where Papa is.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, rubbing the back of my neck embarrassed again, I’m kind of bad with children, “My Mom vanished out here and I didn’t know my Dad.”

“Didn’t care much about you, huh?”

And all of the embarrassment I felt vanished at the audacity of this little shit.

“No… Mom just never told me,” it wasn’t something I enjoyed talking about, after a very long silence I pointed at my PipBuck and asked, “Is he your leader?”

“What, Red Eye?” The filly glanced up at me, her eyes shifting into more of a bright orange, she chuckled before rolling over laughing loudly, “Hell no, the Caesar watches over us and he’ll guide us back to-”

“That’s quite enough, Prysm,” Saluem interrupted, entering the hut with a bowl of something steaming in her teeth, “I told you to leave him to his rest and not disturb him.”

“But, Auntie!” Prysm protested, but Saluem ushered her out, telling her to go play with her friends.

“I’m sorry about her,” she put down the bowl and offered an apology.

“It’s ok,” I reassured her, “Honestly I’m more glad that she’s better now… after those mutants.”

“Swampfolk,” Saluem corrected, sitting down beside me, passing the bowl, “Specifically the Chips.”

“Okay? So not mutants then?”

“No, they are mutated by contaminations, some families down south apparently can’t outbreed with ponies or zebras, so perhaps they could be considered a subspecies if not a new one.”

Holy Shit! “How many are there?” I asked, giving the weird looking soup an experimental lick, it tasted like carrots, potatoes and corn.

“We don’t really know for certain, but we’ve speculated that there must be a bare minimum of tens of thousands if not a couple hundred thousand grouped together in families scattered all over the Swamp.”

“We’re in the Rive nan No Region, around here there are two main factions, us, the Legion of Outcasts and the Foalbanks. The Foalbanks are a collection of a few families loosely working together, namely the Chips, the Knifes, the Packers, the Ballery, and the Lyres and own a massive swaf of land mostly centered around the town of Dela Crow a couple of days to the south.”

“We have claimed nearly half of their land in the past decades or so, the Onions, the Chukk-chukks, the Kattayls and the Beavers all used to be a part of or subjected by the Foalbanks before we took them under us.”

“The McZaphords claim the Fourleaf Whiskey Brewery, and the Clovercoats claim the Lucky Joi Fisheries in Port Aedstuath, and the Black Isles are controlled by the Black Clans and led by Clan Black Apples a few days to the northeast just outside of Baltimare, selling clean food and water for massive swafs of the Wastelands, as far south as New Roam in fact.”

“Baltimare?” I asked, finishing the soup, “What’s that?”

“You haven’t heard of Baltimare?” she asked incredulously, taking the bowl from me, I shook my head, “Well… the Horseshoe Bay Union, or just Baltimare, is one of the safest nations that have risen in the post-war world. Their population is massive, over several hundred thousand.”

I had to think about that for a while. Apparently Stable Fifty-Two had over a thousand ponies in it at one point, what did several hundred times that look like? How did you organize that many?

We sat in silence for a long time before I asked, “Hey, Saluem, do you believe in anything?”

She glanced at me looking for an elaboration, “Well, you mentioned something about Spirits and Prysm mentioned a figure called The Caesar, and you don’t seem to worship the Goddesses, so what do you believe?”

The zebra mare stared at me for a very long moment before starting to snicker before laughing rather loudly for a few moments before answering, “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to ask about something so… well, childish.”

I stared at her a little puzzled.

“The Caesar is little more than a story told by mothers to their young children so they behave, you know, ‘Eat all your vegetables, or the Caesar will forbid you from entering Elysium.”

“What’s Elysium then?” I asked even more confused, “Is it your heaven?”

“No, well… kind of,” Saluem straightened her uniform before continuing, “Elysium, also called the Summerlands, was our ancestral home hundreds if not almost two thousand years ago when the earth was young and long before your Goddesses were born.”

“Wow,” I whispered, amazed.
“We had to leave because the earth became hungry, and the water refused to flow, the thirteen tribes fought brutally for the remaining resources until they were banded together by the First Caesar. History has long since forgotten his name, or perhaps there were many Caesars over many lifetimes, but he led us away from Elysium.”

“The tribes traveled across the world for decades in search of a new homeland, the Atoli tribe sailed across the seas discovering the dragons of the Dragonlands, the griffons of Griffonstone, and the chaotic broken lands of Abyssinia before reaching the lands south and east of Equestria, our adoptive homeland.”

“But when the Discord happened roughly twelve hundred years ago and our new home was split apart, the First Caesar died or perhaps in his perceived failure he returned to Elysium, pure hogwash.”

“Ok,” I mumbled, thinking about the large amount of information, “If you don’t believe in the Goddesses, and you think that The Caesar is just a story, then what’re the Spirits?”

She was about to explain when suddenly the door flap was pulled aside and two zebra stallions stepped in.

The bigger one stayed looming in the doorway, he was probably even bigger than Officer Crosshairs, with wide shoulders and massive healed burns that started at the right side of his nose, traveled over his muzzle where his teeth were exposed through the melted flesh, over his right cheek and reached down his muscular neck to under his uniform’s collar. Dressed in the dark green uniform with the rampant zebra armband, but also having a second armband like Saluem, this one had a golden pony/zebra skull with a green laurel on a field of deep purple. He looked down at me dismissively with teal eyes.

The smaller one was probably closer to my age, and far far more handsome. Dressed in the dark green uniform with the same rampant zebra armband, but he had gold wreaths on his collar tabs. His face and coat were littered in small scars that only added to his… I know it’s a little sappy, but his ruggedness.

“Auntie,” the smaller one addressed my healer, “Did you get my message?”

“Yes, Umeme,” Saluem answered, getting up, “It’s quite ill advisable, assuming that you’d even survive the journey.”

The stallion, Umeme, glanced down at me with a pair of sharp light green eyes and my heart picked up even faster, “You tried to save my little cousin” -he leaned down and bowed to me- “thank you.”

“Uhh… You’re welcome,” I stammered, “It’s really nothing though.”

“No, truly, you killed Bitterchip, the Foal Fucker of the Chips,” he interjected, leaning down closer to me, my heart thundered in my chest, “So tell me, Stable Dweller, why did you try to save Prysm?”

I glanced to Saluem for help, but she was looking away, I gulped, looking back into Umeme’s handsome eyes, “Honestly… how could I just lay there and allow that sick fat fuck to do… that to… well anybody? Pony or zebra? What kind of sick world would allow that?”

Umeme stared down at me in contemplative silence for a long time, considering my words before he asked, “How able are you with firearms?”

“Umeme, no,” Saluem suddenly sternly raised her voice against her nephew, shooting up, “You’re not dragging my patient into Lucius’ crusade.”

“Auntie,” Umeme replied, very straightforwardly, “He seems to have his mind in the right, perhaps he can-”

“OUT!” Saluem shouted, pushing the stallion to the door.

“Alright, alright,” Umeme said, turning to his friend, “C’mon, Q’osk.”

*** *** ***

I stayed at the Castrum for another two days. My wounds had healed completely, leaving two small pink spots in my hide, but Saluem was a little hesitant in letting me leave her hut, but I managed to convince her stating that she could accompany me if she was so worried.

She handed me a black shirt and a dark green uniform jacket to wear to get my gear back from the Armorer, I pulled the apparel on and the zebra healer held the door flap open for me and I stepped out into the zebra town.

The Castrum was set up into four sections, the Core, the Inner Rim, the Mid Rim and finally the Outskirts. The Core was where the Outcasts lived, set up as a large flat square and divided into four more squares of the hundreds of similar huts and tents by the four main roads running along the directions of north to south and east to west with a large three story blue farmhouse in the center, a large flag with a rampant zebra outlined by a golden sun on a field of crimson fabric fluttering in the wind was tied to a long pole just beside the stairs leading up to a pouch and the front door where a couple of guards wearing dark green combat armor stood watch with crazy looking curved swords and magical energy lances on battle saddles. Saluem elaborated it was where the General lived and organized the over five thousand zebras and ponies stationed here and the other nearly ten thousand stationed between the two other Outcasts headquarters, the Bastille and the Palatine.

The Inner Rim was farmland with dozens of half cylindrical buildings called greenhouses and small gardens of corn, wheat, carrots, potatoes, and other crops were in a state of harvesting and being stored in the wooden barns by the non fighting Outcasts zebras and even a few dozen ponies. A large number of young colts and fillies were lined up at a small training range learning basic fighting techniques and other such training. The Core and the Inner Rim were bordered by fifteen foot high walls made of concrete and reinforced with steel beams, a number of emplaced turrets were spotted around the top at key points and each was decorated by the rotting severed heads of Swampfolk on spears.

As Saluem showed me around the town, I glanced around and noticed a number of the zebras and ponies were staring at me. Probably close to a hundred showed recovery from some level of injury and were being helped by other healers like Saluem.

“Is that the Stable Dweller, Mama?” a little zebra colt with a green coat asked a zebra mare.

“Hush,” she scolded, “Don’t point, Carino.”

We stopped at the Castrum’s Armory, a collection of large tents by the farmhouse, inside were a number of shelves covered in cardboard boxes lined up behind a few old card tables. A side door opened and an elderly zebra stallion wearing a cleaned black suit with a red tie, a pair of thick rimmed reading glasses hung by a small silver chain on his neck. He picked up a clipboard and pulled out a pen in his mouth.

“Name?” he asked in a rather refined tone.

“Ozzy,” I answered, he glanced up at me, expecting more.

“He saved Prysm, Arhem,” Saluem interjected, “Give him back his things.”

The stallion jutted down something before turning and re-entering the side door again, behind it I spotted a few dozen zebras and ponies laboring at old looking loud sewing machines powered by pedals in the side tent.

“This won’t take too long,” Saluem reassured me, “Arhem is a bit uppity, but his workers do good work.”

Arhem returned with a box and the clipboard and set them on the tables, picking up the clipboard he read off the items as he pulled them out.

“One Stable jumpsuit, two bullet holes, patched.”

I picked up my suit, two small circular patches of black leather were sewn into the surrounding blue so perfectly I could just barely feel them with my hoof.

“One saddle bag, one bullet hole, patched, reinforced with boiled leather.”

I picked up my saddle bag, a small patch of black canvas was sewn into the side and the whole piece was much sturdier from the leather between the inner and outer layers.

“Contents, one steel flask, empty. One small tool kit.”

“Where’s my pistol?” I asked confused, digging through, but it was just my flask and tool kit.

“There was no pistol,” Arhem answered, passing me the clipboard and pen, “Sign here please.”

I signed my name and took my gear, I’d need to find a pistol somewhere.

“My price for the repairs stands at two hundred bucks,” Arhem read off from the clipboard, “Or one hundred fifty drachme.”

“Bucks?” I asked, stuffing my suit into my saddle bag and securing the straps in place, “Drachme?”

“You are aware of the Baltimare Dollar, yes? Republique Drachme?”

It took the armorer a few minutes to explain the two most widely used currencies up here, the Baltimare Dollar and the Republique Drachme.

The Baltimare Dollar, or more commonly just called bucks, was the currency printed and used by the Horseshoe Bay Union. Originally trading caravans from some long forgotten place down south in the Heartlands used bottle caps for money before Baltimare established itself as a major power after a conflict called the First Emergence War. As a result of their extensive trade connections and wealth their currency has mostly replaced bottle caps in the North Shore in the one hundred and ten or so years since.

The second most used currency was the Republique Drachme, by our proximity with the various kingdoms surrounding the New Roamani Republique, it was very natural that their currency drifted in on the trade caravans.

Since I had no money, Saluem offered to pay my debt this one time. I awkwardly promised her that I’d repay her, somehow. Back at her hut, I pulled on my suit and pulled the Outcast jacket back over it, Saluem had to go help another healer with his own patient.

In the quietness of the setting I thought about what I was gonna do. I needed to find Mom, I was… what? Four maybe five days behind her? I’d been outside for maybe little over a week?

Of course, I wouldn’t be going anywhere without a gun and bullets at my side and I couldn’t get a gun and bullets if I didn’t have any money.

*** *** ***

It was quite dark when I opened my eyes, glancing down at my PipBuck I saw it was actually early evening, around eight. Saluem wasn’t in her hut, looking around I noticed a pair of shadows by the door flap.

“How much longer will he have to be here, Saluem?” a very rough voice rumbled in from outside, “Three days is long enough.”

“His body has healed, but he might require a little more rest, Lucius,” Saluem’s softer, kinder voice drifted in, “Besides, what would Doctor Rose say if she found out that you wanted to turn away somebody from her stable?”

‘Okay… What?!’ I thought, shooting up, the blanket falling to my waist. How did they know Mom? Did she come through here?

“I will never comprehend you and Kaldi’s sickening fetish for ponies, after what they did to us,” the rough voice growled, something heavy stomped away, “Fine… you may keep your new pet… for now.”

The way he said fetish gave me a serious pause. Did my healer prefer ponies to zebras? Was that frowned upon in their culture? I glanced up at the door as Saluem stepped in, she blushed slightly when she saw I was awake.

“How… How much did you hear?” she asked, nervously rubbing her neck.

“Enough,” I muttered, “Did my… uh… Did Doctor Rose come through here?” probably wasn’t a good idea to tell them I was after my Mom yet.

“Well… another Stable Dweller wearing a suit with your number did come through…”

That was something, at least, “Do you know where she might’ve gone?” I asked, getting up.

Saluem put the bag down and refused to turn to me, pretending to check on her supplies instead. I carefully stepped closer to her, “Saluem, I understand that you’re just doing your job as a healer,” I started, keeping my voice as steady as possible, I gently placed my hoof on her shoulder, “But I’m fine now and I need to get a move on to find Doctor Rose.” Saluem still didn’t look at me, “If you could point me in the right direction, or perhaps somebody who knows, I will make it up to you… somehow.”

She still didn’t look at me as she did try to say something multiple times, but didn’t seem able too. She turned to one of the books on her table and placed her hoof on it, even if she covered it, I recognized it as one of Mom’s.

“Doctor Rose… did come through here and helped me treat troops injured by a Foalbanks attack. She… She gave me this book as a small parting gift.”

We stood in silence for a few minutes or possibly an hour before she turned to me and I saw her eyes were bloodshot, full of tears. I offered her a hug and she pressed her face into my shoulder. As she cried my hoof stroked her mane softly, just like how my Grandparents would comfort me when I was young.

“Sorry,” She wiped her face on her sleeve and apologized, “I’m supposed to be the cold, unfeeling doctor, but… so much blood on my incompent hooves.”

“I’m sure you tried your best,” I gently offered.

We stood in silence again before she stepped over to the door flap. I followed her out and saw a young looking zebra stallion in uniform with the strange assault rifle standing waiting.

“Ms Saluem,” he nodded to her and glanced at me, “Curfew starts soon.”

“The Stable Dweller wishes to speak with my brother, Axius.”

The soldier glanced between us before nodding, “Very well, this way.”

We followed the soldier through the streets and approached the farmhouse, the guards watched me silently as the soldier led me inside.

“Sit here,” the soldier said, pointing to a chair in the corner of the entrance room.

“Please, stay here, my brother can be… touchy, he’s not at his best right now and just returned,” she turned into a side room.

I sat down in a chair and waited, the entrance room was a good size with a staircase rounding a corner and heading up to the second floor. The walls were covered in simple cream colored paper and a few old looking framed photographs and paintings were hung up and lit candles were placed on metal bowls just over head height on the walls offering light.

The guards around the room watched me with smoldering suspicion until the young soldier extended a forehoof, “Prime Axius.”

“Uhh… Ozzy,” I shook the appendage, the soldier had a bandage wrapped around his foreleg above his hoof just under his sleeve, “Did you get injured?”

“Defended the Mid Rim, a Foalbanks markspony got a shot, Ms Saluem said I’d be fine if I rest.”

I nodded and was about to continue the pleasantness but Saluem returned and waved me in.

The room was dark with dozens of mutated animal heads stuffed and mounted on the walls: a muddy gray lizard with a wide mouth full of razor sharp teeth, a lion with a black silky mane, and a large dog-like creature with what looked like cybernetics to name the ones I recognized. A red throw rug on the hardwood floor led up to a small throne-like chair with five Outcasts guards stood on either side of the rug wearing black combat armor over their uniforms with the special purple armbands, each one held a combat shotgun at their sides. The throne had three spears behind it each with three colored flags, crimson, gold and purple and a colorful animal pelt was draped over the seat.

Standing beside the throne was Umeme with a very sleepy looking Prysm. On the opposite side were another zebra stallion and a zebra mare wearing Outcasts uniforms similar to Umeme’s, but the crimson on the armband was replaced with blue for the stallion and purple for the mare.

The stallion was narrow and he had a thinning silver mane and a goatee and the mare was on the plump side, her gray stripes were swirly and abstract, her mane was braided into a tight crown, and she wore a mask that was elaborately decorated with small gemstones, rainbow colored feathers, and other decorations.

The room was dead silent, Saluem stepped up to stand beside Umeme. Suddenly the door at the back of the room opened and a large zebra stallion stepped up to the throne and sat down carefully. Despite his injuries, he was still the most regal looking stallion I had ever seen and I knew instantly that this was the famed General.

He wore the Outcasts uniform with a pair of golden double wreaths with purple diamonds on his collar tabs and his armband had a field of horizontal crimson, blue and purple stripes. Much like Saluem, his black stripes were long and curly and his face was heavily scarred, a long jagged scar sliced across the left side of his muzzle, through his left eye and his left ear leaving it a crescent lump.

He glared down at me with a single, burning, scarlet eye, so unlike Saluem’s pretty blue ones.

“Brother, this is Ozymandias, the Stable Dweller that Umeme caught at the Foalbanks’ campsite,” Saluem presented me to the stallion, I felt all eyes on me, “He killed Bitterchip of Dela Crow.”

A low murmuring filled the room for a few moments before the General lifted a hoof for silence.

“I am Amandla Lucius Artorius Septimus… General of the Outcasts,” the stallion’s voice was a low rumble, “You tried to save my dear niece,” I nodded tentatively, “You have my thanks, as payment you may have one weapon and ammunition of your choice from my personal armory.”

“T-thank you, uh sir?” this wasn’t quite what I was expecting.

“Now,” he continued, “My little sister and my son have informed me of your reasoning for trying to save Prysm, but perhaps you could reiterate it for my Legates here?”

I glanced at the two zebras standing beside him, “Eadayiy, Legate of the Bastille and Vjera of the Palatine.”

“Honestly… Sir?” I gulped hard, this wasn’t a question, it was a demand… choosing my words very carefully I asked, “What kind of world would allow that to happen to anybody, especially a child?”

The two zebras thought over my words for a few moments before they agreed, the General leaned forward, “Perhaps we can come to an agreement after all.”

“What did you have in mind, Sir?” So far so good.

“As Saluem has told you, another Stable Dweller with your number came through here a few days ago, you desire her whereabouts, yes?” He asked, leaning forward, “How about an exchange? You help me and I help you?”

I glanced at Saluem for a moment, “Alright, Sir, let’s hear it.”

The General grinned slightly, slumping back in his seat he clapped his hooves, “Umeme.”

“Five days ago we were attacked by the Foalbanks, one hundred casualties, three hundred wounded, thankfully Doctor Rose was here to help Saluem and the other healers treat the injured. But fifty were captured and taken away in the chaos including my Aunt Kaldi and Prysm, thanks to our scout’s efforts we’ve retrieved forty and burned down five Foalbanks campsites and towns,” he handed me a small photograph, it was of four people, a zebra stallion with curly stripes hugging a zebra mare with straight stripes, a zebra filly and a unicorn colt holding a zebra foal, Umeme pointed to the zebra filly, “We have reason to believe that Kaldi was taken to Dela Crow as retribution for our war.”

Umeme took the photo from me, “My squad is going to infiltrate the town, find Aunt Kaldi and bring her back.”

“You will accompany Umeme and support him anyway you can,” the General rumbled, leaning forward, “Do this and I will tell you where Doctor Rose was headed.”

I thought about the proposition for what felt like a long time, I did tell Saluem that I’d be willing to do anything to find Mom, but at the same time… I had no real combative abilities! I wasn’t quite sure just how useful I would be in a firefight.

But I needed to find Mom and these zebras were my only shot at finding her, I looked the large stallion in the eye, “Anything to find Doctor Rose.”

The General wordlessly stood and waved for me to follow him through the door he came from.

Saluem pulled me aside and whispered into my ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The General held the door open for me and I followed through hallways deeper in the farmhouse, I looked at the framed photographs we passed.

One of them showed a young mare with a wide brimmed hat and a middle aged stallion sitting on a dock with fishing poles in their hooves with a large farmhouse behind them. A second one showed the same mare but older and holding a revolver in her mouth standing with an elderly stallion holding a lever action rifle in his hooves. They stood in front of a weird looking chicken with a scaly body that was hung up on a post. A third photo had the stallion when he was young, he was dressed in a sharp uniform with a plaid scarf thrown over his shoulder. He stood with a young mare wearing a dress and a jacket with a foal wrapped to her chest, a happy family.

I followed him quietly as we rounded a corner and stepped down some repaired stairs into a cinder block basement. At the base of the stairs was a set of chained up double doors with an Outcast holding a double barreled shotgun sat beside them on a chair. She nodded to the General, stood and pulled out a small key and the General pulled out a matching key from his uniform jacket, they unlocked the chains and the door opened.

I stood there mouth agape, there must’ve been at least a hundred weapons of all kinds lining the walls in racks and shelves and hundreds of boxes of ammo and weapon parts.

I took a tentative step forward and glanced back at the General, “Any weapon I want?”

“Just one,” he replied.

I perused the shelves and racks, recognizing nearly every one. Pistols, revolvers, submachine guns, rifles, machine guns, shotguns, conventional and magical energy, I even spotted what looked like a howitzer leaning in the corner.

I didn’t know which one to pick.

Ignoring the magical energy weapons, even if I understood how they worked in concept I didn’t have the brains to deal with maintaining them, I looked over the conventional guns starting with the assault rifles, but I didn’t feel very confident in being able to use them even if I knew how to take them apart. Continuing on, I came to the shotguns, double barreled, lever action, pump action and semi automatic, but I shook my head, if I couldn’t handle rifles how could I expect to handle a shotgun? I finally came across the pistols and revolvers, these I felt confident in. I skimmed over the selection, the 44 Magnum looked very tempting but I thought about the logistics of finding a ready supply of bullets for it, I continued on.

Then one pistol caught my eye.

The 45 auto pistol was smaller than the ones in Stable Fifty-Two, its grip was patterned with what look like tan snake-skin matching the snake-skin holster it leaned against, the hammer and the trigger were both skeletonized for weight reduction, the barrel and slide were shortened by a half inch or so and there was a groove in the nickel polished slide instead of ironsights. I picked it up with my magic and looked it over, both sides of the slide had strange letters engraved into it, on the right side was Kaì tò phõs én te skotía phaínei and on the left side was Kaì é skotía aútò oú katélaben.

“And the Light shines in the Darkness and the Darkness has not overcome it,” I whispered to myself, wait how did I know that? It clearly wasn’t in Ponish.

I took out the magazine and guessed by the witness holes it offered six or seven shots. My PipBuck pinged and I looked down at it, my Inventory sorting spell had labeled it as A Light Shining in Darkness, how the hell my little piece of Stable-Tec technology knew stuff like that was starting to get on my nerves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the General asked, “one of my distant ancestors claimed it during a raid against a long dead Swampfolk family near New Horseleans, but it doesn’t work.”

“A broken firing pin?” I asked, pulling the slide back to peek in the chamber, but no it looked alright.

“I don’t know,” the stallion shrugged, “but it’s never fired when I’ve tried, you’ll probably be better off with a different gun.”

I looked down at the pistol, flipping it over in my magic. I couldn’t really say why, but something deep in my gut was calling to me to take it.

“May I test it out first, Sir?”

“Of course,” he pointed to a side door, “Use my personal range.”

I picked up a box of 45 Auto bullets and the pistol and the holster and took them into the room, there was a small table just inside to the left with a dented steel plate hanging from the ceiling a foot or so from a wall of sandbags opposite the door. I set the ammo box on the table and took out the magazine, loading in six bullets.

The General stepped up to the table and silently watched as I took aim at the plate. The groove sight was a little odd at first but I quickly got the hang of it, I flipped the safety to fire and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore a large hole through the plate with a thunderous boom and hit the sandbags behind it.

Given just how dented the plate was that didn’t really surprise me. I pulled the trigger again and another thunderous bullet tore another larger hole in the target. Ok, so the bullets are pretty powerful, that could prove useful. I reloaded, flipped on the safety and attached the holster to my hip.

The General stared at the plate with slight bewilderment, he glanced down at me.

“I’d say it works just fine, Sir,” I said, “I’ll be taking more bullets too.”

Level Up: New Perk: Hardened: You take 5% less damage from all physical attacks, but all healing items are 5% less effective over time.