Chapter 1: Intruder

Black Flag's eyes shot open to the sight of complete darkness, which covered everything like a thick fog. Even through the thick leather flap of the tent he shared with his friend Red Ink, he could still hear the annoying chirps of the crickets outside. But really, that wasn't what he cared about at the moment. Not like he would care about their non stop chirping any other time either, but especially not now. Not even a little bit. No, he focused on the noise that stirred him awake in the first place; the distinct sound of a twig snapping under too much weight. Unless twigs begun snapping themselves, that meant something or somepony was outside. And they were getting closer and closer to the tent, whatever they were. The sound of hooves pushing softly against the dirt grew louder and louder with every passing second.

His first conclusion was that Red Ink was just coming back to the tent after he went outside to take a piss or something like that. It would make sense, after all, the simplest solution was more often than not the correct one. Unfortunately, his hopes on that being the case were quickly dashed when the sounds of the Pegasus snoring beside him reached his ears. He quietly sat up and began to try and formulate a plan. Unfortunately, he wasn't the smartest pony and the best idea he could come up with on the fly was to just beat the daylights out of whatever came through the tent flap.
His eyes darted to the other side of the tent. He could see his sword's hilt sticking out proudly...while the rest of the weapon was buried under a bunch of cooking equipment. That was just fine and dandy. Why not just put it behind a brick wall on the other side of the woods that happened to be on fire, for how much help that hunk of metal was gonna do him as he tried to yank it from that heap of junk.

With every step that the unknown intruder took, Black Flag could feel his grey fur standing up on end and his heart pounding so rapidly he was certain that it would give away that he was awake to the mysterious creature outside. Knowing that the light from his magic would also give away his element of surprise, Black Flag blindly searched the ground around his sleeping space for something that he could use as a makeshift weapon. Dammit, why did he think it was a good idea rest his sword against the far wall of the tent? Well, that question was answered with a very simple answer: He was a cretin and was going to pay the price for his stupidity in about five seconds if he didn't find something to protect himself right now.

He frantically scraped against the dirt for something he could use as a weapon. It felt like forever, but his determination was rewarded when his hooves hit something thick. It felt like a book spine, actually. Black Flag suddenly put two-and-two together and realised it was Red Ink's manifesto, which he was writing in the previous night. What great luck on his part for finding such a completely useless weapon. On the plus side, once the intruder finished putting 23 stab wounds into their bodies he could swipe that book up, decide to take a look inside and become invigorated enough to take down the bourgeois oppressors of the working class. Hooray. But seeing no other options available at the moment, Black Flag hurried to grab the book in his hooves and ready himself for whatever came through the tent, be it some lost foal looking for directions or a bloodthirsty Viking looking for vengeance after the slaughter of their family at the hooves of seafarers. Whatever it was, he would not let harm come to Red Ink no matter what.

Louder and louder the sounds became until they finally stopped right outside of the tent. Everything went deathly quiet. Everything around the unicorn seemed to stop as his panic and adrenaline began to truly take hold of his mind. Beads of sweat rolled down his muzzle and soaked his fiery red beard. He was both ready to meet the unknown foe and terrified to fight something that could possibly overpower him with ease when he was so poorly armed.
The quiet stillness was finally shattered when the brown leather flap was finally pulled back, revealing a pony of undetermined gender on the other side. With the piercing light of the freezing moon to its back and mostly blocked by the clusters of trees around the tent, the figure was almost completely cloaked in the shadows, but the details did not matter to Black Flag. He only needed to rely on his instincts.

With a shrill shriek akin to the deathly wail of the fabled banshee filling the air, the unicorn sprung into action. He lunged forward with surprising speed, and with one fluid motion he swung the book across the silhouette's muzzle, which resounded with a very satisfying clunk. As it clenched its muzzle and released a groan of pain, the pony stumbled backward into the cool gleam of the moonlight revealing it to be a very familiar mare. Black Flag did not strike again, realizing his mistake almost immediately, which was quickly followed by a sheepish grin spreading across his face. She was an Earth pony, with a forest green coat and a dark brown mane that seemed to fall behind her like a powerful waterfall pouring over a vast wall of rocks, well-known to the two stallions and many other ponies that lived around the area as Golden Keg, the owner of the tavern she called Filosofem. Black Flag never knew why it was called that, because the last thing he thought of when he pictured philosophy was a run-down bar where brigades threw glasses at each other out of boredom. However, that wasn't exactly what he should have been focusing on anyway.

"Er, sorry about that," He said quickly as he tossed the book back into the tent so he could help the mare to stand. He pulled her to her hooves and began to dust her off, quietly hoping she wouldn't be too mad that he clocked her in the head with a book. And considering she had yet to say anything, which from previous experience with her was a good indication that she was royally pissed, things were looking grim. "Are you alright?" He asked quickly as he instinctively began taking a few steps away from her. "I swear, I had no clue that it was you who was out here."

For what felt like an eternity, the mare said nothing and did nothing. She was just standing there menacingly, with pure death seeming to blaze like the roaring fires of Fantloft in her murky eyes. While she might not have had the largest body build, Black Flag witnessed more than a few times where she subdued drunkards and thrown them out of her establishment without much trouble, so it would not be wise for him to underestimate her physical strength even with his magical advantage. He bit his lower lip; bracing himself for what he felt would be a very painful ass-kicking.