[centre][b]Beaner Territory, Northern Equestrian Wastelands[/b][/centre]

A mountain range, copper red in the rising sun, cast long, cold shadows that were slowly shrinking back into the mountains as the sun climbed the cloudless sky. Sacred trotted slowly, leaning on Decimus for support. The stubborn Zebra had refused to take breaks over the night for fear of losing another slave to the wastes. During their last rest-stop, one of the slaves had laid down, closed her eyes and never woke up. Her carcass was dragged along behind the group by a slaver. The rest of the slaves were in a state - their tongues lolled out of their mouths, dry and swelled. But the worst were their flanks and backs - 2 long days of whipping by the slavers had left them bloody and raw to such an extent that Decimus explicitly banned the use of whips until they were handed over to the Beaners, the clan that owned the slaves.

A sea of tents sat at the base of one of the larger mountains, covered on three sides by a high wall. The Beaner's, despite the silly name, were actually a rather important faction in the slaving world. After the fall of Fillydelphia, a significant minority of slavers made their way in the lawless wastelands of the North-West, where NCR control was weak and slaving was still commonplace. The Beaner's took the name due to their former control of a large bean plantation in the South, which had since become overrun by the NCR. The name had stuck, unfortunately. The Beaner's were pushed into the North West with their small contingent of slaves and had finally settled near a small, dusty mountain range, where they had taken a particular interest in the hills around the area. There, they had exploded, with an army of slaves surpassing 500, giving them the largest slave stock in all of the North. From what Sacred could gather, the slaves were had been used to mine into the hills to presumably extract ore. The Beaner's were lead by a rough, one-eyed stallion who called himself the Grand Beaner. The Grand Beaner fancied himself as a successor to Red Eye and often spent time rubbing flanks with the rich and affulent members of Vanhoover, the closest city. He rarely took visits to "Fort de Beaner", as it was commonly called and controlled his empire from the confines of his Vanhoover mansion.

As they approached Fort de Beaner, signs of life began appearing along the beaten track. Broken wagon wheels, used cartridges, empty needles and  even bones lay littered along the path. The slavers had erected a rough wooden sign at the top of the final hill. [b]"Beware! Beaner teritoree iz ere!"[/b], it warned. Sacred squinted as the evening sun stung his eyes and blinked several times, the bright light leaving its mark on his eyesight for several moments. He had seen many slaver camps in his years on the wastelands but none as big or mighty as this. The ragtag group was fast approaching the camp now and the tracker could see the walls clearly.

They were made of sheets of iron, crudely stuck into the ground and supported by planks. The fort was backed against the hills and mountains, so there was only three directions to escape from. For roughly 100 feet on all three sides was clear of all signs of life, presumably so the watch ponies could see any runaways with ease. Towers sat along intervals and the occasional glint of a shining rifle in the sunlight could be seen. The gates were an equally simple affair - two towers sat on either side and the gates themselves looked like they'd been specially made. Knowing the pure grandiose of this camp, they probably had.  They were made of a thick metal, painted a deep maroon. It looked as though they were a pain to open and close (for the slaves, anyway...)

"Well..." murmured Decimus. "This is the famous Fort de Beaner". One slave behind him groaned audibly at the sight of it. The slavers wooped at its sight and gave one of the slaves a kick on the rump in joy. "You'll be working hard, now, won'cha?" smirked a slaver, looking around his stock. They didn't even lift their heads to answer. Those that had lifted their heads just dropped them again at the sight of the infamous slaver fort.

Except one.

The unicorn the slaves called Lank, the unicorn with the shaved mane who proudly kept her head up and her eyes forward. She was the one that Sacred had been thinking about the whole walk to Fort de Beaner. That image of her beautiful smile had stuck to his mind and although he tried hard not to, he had occasionally glanced back at her. She kept his line of eyesight and smiled softly, although it was nothing compared to that first smile. She was rather plain to look at but there was something about her that had Sacreds heart racing. It was possible he was in love. But Sacred had been in Equestria longer than that. He'd heard tales of Unicorn mares so beautiful they'd gobble up poor, unsuspecting stallions and wrap them around their left hooves. He'd even seen such a mare once- while in a bar in Manehattan, he'd seen a relatively plain Unicorn followed by a group of drooling Earth pony stallions who would follow her command without question. They felt such "love" for this mare they'd stolen and killed. Perhaps thing had happened to him.

"All right, Sacred, stay in my sight all the time we're in there. Things should be all right but I don't want to lose my star stallion to some greedy, butt-fucking slaver" muttered Decimus to his tracker, glancing back at the slavers. They were too busy flirting with Bliss or berating slaves to notice. The pony from Prance nodded and shifted his weight unsteadily so he no longer leaned on the Zebra and instead stood alongside him. 

"Right, you lot. Buck yourselves up. We're going into Fort de Beaner and I want to get my money's worth" barked Decimus, giving the slavers a death glare. "Bliss, up here with me". Bliss gave a longing look at the slaver before bounding up to be beside Decimus. Sacred saw a pang of jealousy appear in the Zebra's eyes. He clearly didn't like Bliss talking with the slavers or the way they stared at her backside as she bounded towards him. He didn't say a word to Bliss - he didn't need to. She scared any potential mare-nappers off with her horrific smile and the rifle strapped to her back. The slavers set about organising the slaves, who obediently got into a straight line. The unhooked the dead slave from the chains and tossed her corpse aside like rubbish before hooking the rest back onto the chain line.

"Lets go then. Let me and the slavers do the talking. I'll see if I can get you some food while we're in there, Sacred. You look like you've been starving yourself for too long" said Decimus, smiling at his tracker. Sacred only nodded, his thoughts engrossed on the unicorn known as Lank. He'd almost forgotten about the pangs of hunger in his stomach and had supplemented them with water. He took a swig from his water flask only to discover not a drop had entered his mouth. It had all been drank already. The Prench pony let the bottle drop around his neck in annoyance before continuing his walk towards the forts red gates.

They were almost there. By the end of tomorrow, Sacred would be asleep in a bunk somewhere in Vanhoover with a full belly and a throat drenched in as much as wine as he could drink. He'd need it after all this.

After he abandoned the most beautiful unicorn he'd ever seen to the chains of slavery.