The Cult of the Alicorn Part I
Maghreb Region - 1400s
“Seriously?” My apprentice really surprises me. I can explain the plan over and over again, yet he still cannot retain the simplest instruction. I reiterated.
“The rhythm cannot be in a basic time signature, lest the vibrations misalign with the lunar photoreflection frequency. I know the style is tad ... unorthodox, but you need to think outside the box. Do not think of it as a problem, but more of a … necessity. We cannot simply live in a world of basic four-four child’s play! Indeed, my dear Spines, this is your time to shine! One day, this style will change the very definition of music. Spines, you will be known throughout the ages as the Sultan of Music. The master of what is called... jazz!”
Spines gazed up at me with those beady little eyes of his. “Seriously?” The poor kid seems to only dwell in confusion. Talented with a horn, certainly, but he really needs to focus.
“I will make this simple: just come up with what you can and I will review it later. You can handle that... I trust. You are dismissed.”
My apprentice gave a little nod, and scampered his way down the hall. “And make it funky!” He slapped his forehead; the bugs in this area must still be prevalent. Curious. I thought the sandstorms would have removed them with the flora.
But I am thankful for those same sandstorms. Without their ruin, I would never have been able to acquire the use of this palace from Tirekan so … easily. Tirekan may have wealth and power, but he can be overly trusting. I just scrawl up plans for an astronomy project, and he let’s me have full operation! That old king certainly loves the night. In fairness, however, it is difficult to ponder up any ulterior motive for a scholar transporting a small crew to an abandoned structure. That aside, I count myself fortunate that those sandstorms cleared the path... metaphorically speaking. Though the event did benefit from a little... help.
I made my way through the corridor, intaking the artwork that adorned the walls. Sadly, the coarse rock had deteriorated sections of the finer interior design. Though the calligraphic nature of the pattern was never my artistic preference; personally, I prefer fine equine portraiture, despite conflicting... religious beliefs. And I have reached my destination, colliding with the door in a purposeful manner, as even architecture partakes in the delight of my... handsome visage.
The door opened with a most unsettling creek. As the sun inched toward the horizon, it seemed the structure itself was trying to warn me. Upon unsealing the room, the deathly silence voided the ambiance and exposed an aura of dread and hopelessness. Whatever creatures lay within had never felt the warmth of life, and the reaper so afraid they would never feel the touch of death. As my eyes adjusted to the somber, these premonitions were confirmed. These beings serve an empty purpose, unwavered by eternity.
Bureaucrats.
Nonetheless, they do prove themselves useful dealing in the more … unpleasant work.
“I assume you are all performing … efficiently?” I inquired, knowing well the rhetorically of the question.
“The predicted locations of the selected astronomical bodies will be processed shortly,” the bureaucrats stated. Of course, only one of the five or six uttered the statement, but for all practical purposes they act and think unanimously. Essentially this renders the perception of conversing with one, or more accurately, zero persons.
“Your reply was not exactly the one I … requested?” At least Spines responded in a direct manner. “But nevermind the star charts, I am able to recite heavenly locations by heart.” This is true; excellence is essence, is it not? “I am currently concerned with the more... atmospheric elements. Do we anticipate clear and fair skies this twilight?”
“We have calculated within a small margin of error that there is a nine-hundred thirty-five in a one thousand circumstance that there will be no obstruction of the selected astronomic bodies.” I still ponder whether they speak in turn, or if the order is more... haphazard. “No significant alterations in climate are expected within six and forty-seven hundredths standard hours.”
“If that is the case, this section of the procedure is approved. Most excellent work, gentlemen. Continue to follow protocol.” I began my leave, preparing so my countenance would find it contrasting with my entrance in a more … sympathetic manner.
“We thank you, SCORPANUS.” Okay. This time, they spoke in unison. For such impersonal persons, bureaucrats do know how to disturb one’s innermost sense of security. To remove all grandeur from my beautiful name required an almost impressive and refined ability. Almost. When I appraise the word, I feel “bureaucrat” is overly human for those... entities. There was a more appropriate term the princess once mentioned, amidst all her “jive.” She referred to a mechanical construct of sorts from the far east; an inorganic collective whose purpose is to compute. I must inquire about the term later.
For now, I must make my leave.
I ascended the tower; the diameter of the spire was quite narrow in scope. Echoless were my footsteps, the sound muted by my …physique, unable to resonate against the unkempt interior. I attempted to apply my garment sleeve to shield my breathing from the dust, but space restriction had besmirched it against the wall. Curse this tower! As I coughed my loathing for the architect soared; what fool designs a hidden chamber but fails to give its pathway sufficient proportion? I was relieved when at last I reached the chamber door and ended the ascension’s... remorselessness.
Discounting the elevation, most nearly everything in the room was within the standards of a small parlor. A tad luxurious to be sure, but nothing unexpected of a palace. Imported carpet? Accounted. Gilded chandelier? Of course. Quaint mahogany table and seating, with which one could recline and converse whilst consuming herbal teas and confectionaries? A proper parlor would not be complete without! Though what gave the chamber uniqueness, and confidentiality, was that toward which I now drew my attention. A window.
By its appearance, this window would seem to be ….unexceptional, if not rather mediocre when contrasted with its environment. Indeed, the glass was hastily made with a provincial... semblance. But an innate property bestowed this window a very grand and authentic power, though within a limited timeframe.
Fortunately, I had managed to arrive just in time, as I surmised it would be necessary to consult the princess one final time before the ceremony.
The full moon had followed my ascent, and the window began to refract its luminance. Scattering its beams across the room, the lunar radiance presented itself as the dominant aura; I experienced a rush of power that overtook my being. I clenched my hands, enveloped by a strengthening glow, but it began to consume me, as a blaze does to its fuel. This final safeguard would destroy any who could not fulfill as a proper host, but my ancestors of the northern peninsula discovered the phrase for redirection, to act as conduit.
“Parvum meum CABALLIO! Parvum meum CABALLIO!” I howled in agony as the scorch within was released. But as suddenly as all had become blinding white, it was finished. I was left in an empty, cold stupor, slipping from consciousness as I collapsed toward the floor. But as I fell, I felt a soft glow cushioning my descent. A midnight blue aura had caught me. Her aura had caught me.
With the magical assistance I regained my footing, and as I regained my senses I began to … cognitate... the figure in front of me.
Princess Luna. She relaxed her poise and rested small grin on her face whilst I foolishly reconstituted myself from my dazed state. I flushed a little as I wobbled and flailed to regain my balance, but the princess showed kindness enough through her patience. We stared at one another in a peaceful silence for a short time; though equine, her beauty was more comparable to the loveliness of a lady than the majesty of a mare. The allure of her slender figure was rivaled only by the angelic quality of her wings. A flowing blue mane of nocturne magnificence complemented a soft coat of a darker hue, which in turn gave its charming color to a luxurious and powerful horn. The emblem on her embellished necklace and fetching thighs radiated a supreme royalty, a lunar insignia that has lent itself as the crest of my family. But in this moment I was enticed by her eyes, which had a playful quality, that of youth and vitality, though mature enough to express calmness and serenity. After a lengthy period of stillness, Princess Luna sauntered in my direction, and greeted me with a most melodious voice.
“Sup homeslice! What’s the 411?”
Albeit with some most ... perplexing word choice.
Providence, Rhode Island - 1939
The three brothers squabbled on the drive to their client.
“...it’s probably best that you let me or Herman handle it,” Henry said. “This guy could be our next big ticket.”
Helal reasserted himself. “But I can’t get experience if I don’t make a sale, and I can’t make a sale cause you say I don’t have experience because I can’t make a sale cause...”
“Ya know, Henry,” Herman interjected, keeping his focus on the road, “it’s not like we need to win him over or anything. Doctor Black requested us, afterall. So, ya know, we don’t need to do much other than basic business and haggling.”
“Wait, Doctor Black? I thought his name was Mister Boddy,” Helal questioned.
“That’s probably his maiden name,” Herman said with a small grin, without breaking his focus from driving. His brothers gave a loud chuckle, and Herman continued to ramble. “You know, in my day men were men! We didn’t go around swapping no names like some sorta Western rigamaroll. No, you were born with a name and you died with a name. I died once. The reaper could catch me cause I changed my name to Sheri. Funny story that.”
Helal exhaled, turning down his laughter as Herman slaughtered his own joke. “But seriously, I thought this guy’s name was Mister Boddy.”
“Yeah, that was his name once-a-time,” Henry explained, “but I think he changed it after gettin’ his doctorate.” Henry sat forward to mull something over. He turned back to face Helal. “Okay, Helal, you can do it this time. But talk ta’ me before you seal the deal.” Henry pointed at his other brother. “And no funny stuff.”
Herman gave a few quick glances to his brother. He scrunched his mouth, “Who me? Nah! You worry too much, ya know.” Herman parked the car, and the brothers scrambled out.
As they made their way into the office building, a cold stare from up above followed their path. Doctor Black stood in his office, observing those flim-flam brothers with scrutiny. Black kept his office neat and and in line, from the pencils in his desk drawer to the time on the clock. Aside from his degree, no objects or pictures of personal significance stood in his office. The doctor’s suit was dark as his name, ironed and crisp; his hair showed only small signs of wintering, and it was kept clean, combed, smooth. Doctor Black was a man of business, prosperous and respectable, but easily forgettable. His face belonged to many men, men who wore suits and worked in offices and smoked cigars, that blended into a crowd and would be easily missed.
Doctor Black positioned himself in his office chair, and waited the arrival of his guests. Not long after he heard a knock on the door and some hushed bickering. He invited them in.
The three brothers strolled in, nonchalantly admiring the office as they adjusted their collars. Each brother wore a striped teal-and-white suitvest with a matching bowtie and straw hat. The eldest wore a lush mustache on his lip and the strains of business had begun to show in his face and body. The middle brother, by contrast, had a vibrant and strong expression, with the broadest structure of the three; his stubble of a beard was balanced by a pair of obtuse mutton chops. And it was the youngest, whose tall frame was as wiry as the glasses on his nose, who greeted Doctor Black this afternoon.
“Salutations, my dear doctor! Allow us to introduce ourselves: the gentleman on my right is Henry,” The eldest tipped his hat with a quick nod and smile. “And I believe you’ve met Herman before,” The middle sibling took his hat to his chest and gave a dramatic bow. “And sir, you may call me Helal.”
The brothers each struck a pose, outstretching their arms and bowing on one knee. In unison they proclaimed, “We are the Hassenfeld Brothers! Marvelous salesmen nonpareil!”
Doctor Black examined the brothers with a cold stare. “Adorable,” he commented; it might have been sarcasm had there been emotion in his voice.
The Hassenfeld Brothers each wore an awkward smile. They stood up as Helal began to talk.
“So, my dear doctor, what brought us to your interest? Quite an office you have here and we can stock it up! We have many deals to offer! Folders, binders, pencils, paper, pencil cases, paper shredders, pencil sharpeners, erasers, paper racks, pencil shredders, shredder cases, paper sharpeners! You name it, we can make it!”
“My office is fine,” Black said grimly.
Nervously, Helal continued, “W-Well then, you must be interested in our wide selection of fabulous fabrics and fashion!” His smile became more strained.
“My attire is none of your concern,” Black sharply stated, as retrieved some paperwork from his desk drawer and started writing.
Helal looked back at his brothers, who were also wearing expressions of stress and confusion. Henry motioned his arm to get the youngest brother to continue. Helal turned back to face their client.
“May I inquire then, dear doctor, by what means may we provide our service?”
“Toys.”
Helal blinked. “Toys?”
“Toys.”
“Such as dolls or wooden horses? The things girls and boys play with?”
“That seems like an adequate definition.” Doctor Black continued with his paperwork.
Helal paused. “Would you hold on a moment?”
Helal scattered back and regrouped with his brothers. They huddled and squabbled in muffled whispers as Black observed. After much bickering and comedic punches and slaps, Henry, Herman, and Helal separated and faced their client.
“We would be honored to fulfill your order,” Helal said as all three brothers bowed. Helal peeked up from under his hat. “Though you’ll need to shuffle more of profits in our direction. To cover... research and development, of course.”
Doctor Black closed his eyes and almost gave a smile. “Money is no object.”
As Hassenfeld Brothers rejoiced in this statement, Black tuned out their cheers and cash register noises, drowned out by his own thoughts. He peered down at his desk drawer, pondering on the artifacts contained within. The prototype necklaces and crown would soon be ready, to be entrusted to the three idiots in front of him. He looked back up to see the three brothers dancing, then once again closed his eyes, pondering. Money may not have been an object, but he was running out of time.
