Coldsteel clears his throat.

"I count myself among the resurrected, sir, and I believe that under the circumstances I have weathered the situation fairly well. Yellowbelly, also, does not seem any more notably useless now than he usually is. But Sergeant Rictus is..."

"Off his damn head," Breakspear says bluntly, frowning at me. "He has done nothing but lay on his bed while gibbering about 'the things in the dark' for four hours now."

"Classic Rictus," I grumble.

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Dynamite looks at me like I'm the crazy one.

"Where the hell am I?!" he screams. "What is this place? What world am I in?"

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"Killjooooooooooy!"

I barrel into her, and we both tumble to the floor. Killjoy grunts as her back hits the stone, a faceful of vermillion mane caught in her mouth. I stand over her, eyes wide and manic.

"Killjoy! Killjoy!" I gasp, wildly gesturing behind me.

She spits out her mane and glares up at me while the guards peep around the door with concerned looks. I keep making hoof motions, trying to explain, but all that comes out is a babble of subsonic noises.

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I never asked for any of this. I never wanted to negotiate with the orphans. I never wanted to be saddled with Cash's useless crotch-spawn. I never wanted to be in Dragonfall. Hell, go back far enough, I never even wanted to be a mercenary. I just wanted to get away from my parents and bang the recruiter. How did it all come to this? Why am I here? What's the point of anything? Does life truly have any meaning? Is there really a grand design, a destiny for us all that our cutie marks

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At first, they're just creepily silent; then they begin creepily humming in unison. I feel that sense of unease again, and it only becomes all the worse as their humming transitions into a surprisingly upbeat and jaunty tune. The foals bounce in place as they follow along with us. Worry transitions into sheer dread, and I finally let out a pained groan when the air suddenly fills with the sound of musical instruments from an unknown source, matching their tune. It's exactly as I

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Peacemaker chews his lip and nods his assent, shrugging. "I suppose an alcoholic is preferable to an out-and-out bigot... No offence, Hoofler."

Hoofler blinks at him. "Vhy vould I be offended? I do hate minorities."

"I knew a filly in my youth, who stayed at the local hospital in my hometown for all the time that I lived there. She was a blind-deaf burn victim with fragile bones that constantly broke, and an inability to digest solid foods. Healing magic gave her seizures, and she was somehow allergic to literally all medicine, but painkillers most especially. All she did, all day every day, was repeatedly chant 'please kill me,' and all night every night, she would have the same persistent

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"Wow, how convenient! So she's totally my foal, but just so happens to have had any physical identifiers that would confirm her as such removed! So, entertaining this stupid line of thought, why would you have done such a thing?"

Next chapter will be a short one, but shorter means more expedient updates sometimes. Expect it sometime tomorrow.

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"Dragonfall is a city on its last legs, its populace so perpetually depressed that they're basically all just waiting to die. Until four days ago, they didn't even have a city guard. You are a gang of thieves and murderers. This is an environment you should be thriving in, yet you're camped out in the forest like a bunch of losers, subsisting on turnips and pig fetuses."

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