Study of the Laws of the Cynogriffin People.
Written by Callistephus of the Romeo pack.
What is justice?
Justice is a greater good, necessary for peace, defined by the rules and regulations commonly called "laws". Those laws can be changed over time, as they have to adapt different environments and variables. Once established to be the best possible, they are to be applied in the fullest feasible way, as they serve an absolute concept such as justice itself.
Every kind of this world has a different culture, and thus different laws. Now, I shall quickly examine the foundations of each of them before examining more closely the Cynogriffins' judiciary.
First, the dragons. Immense and strong.
Their society is built on two pillars: wealth and culture. Both are symbols of power, especially the second, as their kind of magic is based on an ancient, secret language whose words must be studied and chosen with the utmost attention and care. So great is their dedication to the language that their greatest spells are said to be literary masterworks.
They are also solitary, prideful creatures, and can easily become hostiles to their own kin for simple accidents or misunderstandings. The role of their laws is mainly to avoid the birth of feuds between dragon clans that could easily escalate in disastrous civil wars. The leaders that enact those laws are the Seven Lords, inferior only to the Dragon King himself. The Seven Lords are each one the most influential dragon of the seven most powerful scale colors, and act as leaders of all the dragons that share it. At the same time, they also have to answer to the assemble for the crimes committed by their followers and, in extreme cases, take responsibility for it.
The Alicorns, creatures of greatest magic.
Unlike dragons, they do not need any language or rituals to perform spells. A quick thought is all they need to bend the reality to their will. They are a more peaceful kind than the dragons and do not need powerful overseers as rulers. The various Alicorn settlements, however, are ruled and managed by several nobility Houses, that coordinate themselves through reunions and ancient shared customs. Only in case of emergencies are they allowed to contact the Alicorn royalty. One of the most common examples of said traditions is the prohibition for males to learn healing arts, reserved to the females. At the same time, though, females are not allowed to hold any real authority without a male to accompany them.
Their law is focused on the concept of Harmony as peaceful, spontaneous living with each other, with the other kinds as well as with the planet itself, whose balance must not be damaged with an excessive use of their magic.
A related subspecies but with totally different lifestyle is represented by the Flutterponies. They are an even more magic-centered evolution of normal Alicorns, and their racial peculiarity is the possibility to feed directly on positive emotions, like love, that stoke their magical power to incredible levels. This has allowed them to connect with the magical essence of the planet Equis itself, and consequentially has even modified their bodies, changing the appearance of their wings in a crystalline and butterfly-like manner. The first two Flutterponies, now queens of their whole kind, are the royal sisters Queen Chrysalis and Queen Pandora. Little is known of their way of ruling, as they are an extremely inclusive kind. They still share some common customs with their Alicorn kin, but considering that the rulers are both females, completely contrary to the equine customs, we can be certain that several other traditions have been changed.
The main value of their society is Love, considered a gift owed to everyone and everything. Thanks to that, the members of their society are extremely collaborative and affectionate towards each other and even worthy strangers, making some laws and rules almost exclusively directed to the several visitors of their country.
Finally, there are us, Cynogriffins. Kin of the Sky. Proud hunters and warriors.
Our people are divided in different packs, each ruled by an Alpha wolf that gained that position by defeating his predecessor. While not as strong and resilient as dragons, nor as powerful as Alicorns, we hold our pride in our unmatched speed and flight.
All the members of a pack must obey to their Alpha, which answers only to the Pack King, when the unending struggle for the position of power allows the rise of one. Even when said King is absent, the Alphas must follow our common laws, whose principle of justice is
And there it stopped. After nearly six years since a quill had last scratched the old surface of the parchment, it still stopped there. Nothing had been added.
Not a single, little word.
Which was justifiable with the fact that, in truth, the Cynogriffins never had nothing even close to a common law whatsoever.
The winged wolf sitting in front of the incomplete parchment groaned in frustration, then let his head slam against the rough surface of his desk, where the document laid. The impact made the dozens piles of sheets around him shudder, sending up wisps of the thick layer of dust that had covered them. The cynogriffin stared tiredly at the floating particles from behind his glasses, letting his thoughts roam free.
That thin, frail foil of paper was starting to scare him. Completing it, writing a whole set of good, fair laws for his people had been the purpose of his life for years. Years spent meditating about what justice really was and all the potentially limitless implications of the matter. Years spent taking notes, hundreds, thousands of notes, that now composed the dusty paper pillars around him. Years lost studying every single book he had managed to get his paws on. Years lived in regret and shame for the brutality of his own brothers, his most powerful motivation to keep going.
And now, Callistephus the Cynogriffin felt like all that time lost had been completely, utterly useless.
He had known it was a desperate challenge since the beginning, sure. A whole population that had lived without civilized laws from it's birth would not just accept to be suddenly tied by them. And that would have been a problem only if he actually did managed to write said laws.
Cal raised his head from the desk and started looking around the cave that made up his home. The books he had used as references in the last few days were scattered around with no order, the leftovers of his meals hastily piled up in a corner and the crumpled shapes of the discarded notes almost made a little carpet around him. The chaos of the room was a merciless reflection of the state of his mind. Callistephus could almost hear the physical noise of his own thoughts, buzzing, like insects in a massive swarm composed by every little worry, idea or opinion he had birthed during his restless study. Sometimes a thought resurfaced, getting his focus and attention for the briefest of moments, before being swallowed again in the mist and replaced by a different one, soon to be overcome by yet another. Repeatedly, incessantly, endlessly...
*TLACK*
The sudden sound snapped the wolf out of his daze. He turned to see that his quill had simply fallen down from the desk. The wolf picked it up, holding carefully the frail item between two claws. He saw that the tip was already far gone, broken in the fall, and now dangling from the rest of the tool.
"Great..." he muttered between his teeths, before throwing it towards the nearest litter pile, with a little more strength than intended. He could only stare as the feathered projectile met the stone wall above his target and bounced away, broken in half. The wolf then looked at his paw, and found it trembling. He tilted his head.
"What in the name of the Great Hunt just happened?"
Almost as if he was being answered, he felt an incredible, sudden drive to get the nearest window and blast off in the sky flying as fast as he could. He recognized it immediately as the usual cabin fever that hit him every time he shut himself indoors for too long. Taking a deep breath to relax, the winged wolf subdued some of his excitment.
As he did so, the muscles of his troath spasmed and his eyes watered in a fit of gags. Skies above, WHAT is this smell? His eyes runned all over the room, and in the dim light of the candles he became aware of the pitiful condition it had been reduced to during his days-long string of noncurance.
The leftovers were nearly went bad, to the point that some houseflies were crawling around them. The stench was not unbearable, but not pleasurable either, and instinctively averted his muzzle away. To get rid of the smell, Callistephus tried flapping a little his massive wings to make air, but it turned out to be a big error. The thick layer of dust was not only limited to his old notes, but had been covering almost all his furnitures, mixed with his fallen feathers and tufts of hairs. The sudden gust of wind lifted almost all the dirt in a dusty mist, making the air in the narrow room unbreathable. After managing to scramble out of the room in a fit of coughs, he turned back his head to see the grey haze that had filled his study, and noticed that the dust had the time to cover him too, darkening his light brown fur to a sickly grey.
Callistephus took a minute to let the whole situation sink, groaned in defeat and started searching for his bags.
"Ok, that's it. This is where I draw the line. I've been in here long enough. I need to get out a little, breathe fresh air, find new supplies, get some much needed workout and clear my head. Does that sound good? Yes, sure it does..."
He picked up an old pair of saddlebags, now adapted for cynogriffin use, and tied them on his sides in order to leave his wings free to move. Afterwards, he pulled out his old scarf, hiding his neck behind it, and started digging out some more equipment from the mess of the cave.
"...and then I'll really need to come back here and put this place in order. As it is now it’s almost dangerous for me. I want to write, not to kill a writer with rotten food and diseases by living in the garbage... even moreso if said writer is myself. Eheheh... Good one, Cal..."
He stopped a moment in his tracks, blinking. After a few moments, his brows furrowed.
"Uuumh... I need plan an appointment with a doctor. Or, eventually, to talk to someone else more often. This can't be healthy..."
After filling his bags with everything he needed, Cal neared the opening of his cave. The wolf felt his wings twitch and immediately gave up to his need for flight. He let a thrilled smirk appear on his muzzle, and, in a snow-white and golden blur, dived in the sky.
Oooh, yes. I have to admit that I really needed this. That was almost heaven, at least compared to how he had felt just a couple of hours ago. His muscles were burning, his tongue had lolled out of his panting mouth and his wings were aching for the strain he had put them under. But all that was exactly what Cal wanted. His mind was clear and functional, in a way it hadn't been for days. Despite his scholarly mindset, he still was a member of a race of athletes, after all.
The winged wolf kept repeating the few flying acrobatic maneuvers he was used to, at a slow and relaxed pace, almost mechanically.
He briefly considered that all of them were extremely simple, compared to what an average Cynogriffin could have been able to do, but he consoled himself thinking that the same average Cynogriffin wouldn't even have been able to hold a quill, much less write.
Still, that thought always left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Cal shook his head, thinking what to do next. He had performed every basic form several times: loops, u-turns, aerial corkscrews and so on. There was only a maneuver left that he wanted to do. Possibly, the most important of them all. For all the other flying species, that particular stunt was a nearly unreachable achievement, possible only through years of training and massive use of magic, but not for the wolves of the skies, true masters of flight. To them, it was something natural and easy to attain. And as one of the greatest prides he had in being part of his people, Callistephus had always loved performing it.
The only reason he had not already done it was that he couldn't waste it: he had to wait for the right occasion. Adjusting his glasses, the wolf scanned the ground under him with a certain fondness. In front of his eyes was one of the vast forests that made the flying continent unique with it's flora and fauna. Searching for any kind of movement in the foliage, he hovered high in the sky, beating his wings every so often to get some altitude back. Soon, he found what he was searching for: a flying reindeer running in the forest.
Lean and graceful, they were considered the most beatiful animals in the Atlantis floating islands, and every year, several visitors came here from the continent below for them. Mainly Alicorns, but there was the occasional Dragon too. Tucked behind the safety of the capital City, they waited during weeks to see their migrations, when hundreds of these reindeers crossed the skies without the need for any kind of wing or appendage, a rare show of beauty in the savage Cynogriffin country. They literally ran on simple, thin air.
While he always had appreciated the sight and the animals, Callistephus, like all his kin, couldn't help but find that characteristic annoying to say the very least. Hunting them in the narrow woods, where the wolves weren't even able to properly open their wings, while the reindeers could fly-jump everywhere, was a unparalleled pain in the rear end. Politely talking.
Obviously, there were ways to bypass the problem. And Cal knew them at heart.
After memorizing the approximate direction the animal was running in, he pointed upwards and started gaining altitude, until he judged it was sufficient. Then the wolf divebombed with a powerful flap and kept falling without any sound, cutting the air like a sharpened claw. He left the last clouds behind him, the friction of the air against him increasing exponentially, until it reached the level he wanted. The effort his was putting his tired muscles under an even greater strain than before, but Cal ignored it.
Not yet...
He was starting to be able to distinguish the trees from each other.
Not yet...
He finally spotted the deer again, and adjusted his trajectory accordingly.
Not yet...
He opened his wings and flew horizontally, his trajectory being on the same level as the tips of the trees, while following his soon-to-be prey. The air gathered under his feathers reduced the momentum of the previous free-fall, allowing him to maintain exactly the speed he needed. All of his flight muscles were aching by then, but he kept going. He just needed to resist a little more, just to wait for the reindeer to come near a point where the trees were less thick, allowing him to attack.
Exactly like the reindeer was doing at that moment.
NOW!
The wolf clenched his teeth and pushed his wings even further. A second before the deer reached again the safety of the forest's canopy, Cal let out a ferocious snarl and gave a last, massive flap. The world disappeared for a moment in a white flash as the air ripped apart in front of him. Then the sky exploded in a blooming of colors.
*CRACK-BOOOOOOM*
The deer didn't even have enough time to understand what happened.
Callistephus crashed on it, pinning its body to the ground violently. In the same swift movement, he brought his fangs on the reindeer’s neck and broke it with a muffled crack, spilling a copious amount of blood in his mouth. Any struggle from of the animal's part ended before it could even really start.
As soon as the deer went limp, Cal pulled out his teeth, let loose the huge breath he was holding and rolled on his back, looking at the sky. He could hear several other animals running frantically around the bushes, knowing well that the explosion always meant the arrival of predators like him. That was the reason Cynogriffins "exploded" only a moment before to strike - it always signaled their presence to their prey.
He winced as his wing spasmed lightly. The last stunt had taken its toll on his undertrained body, but it was worth every bit of pain. A happy grin appeared on his panting mouth as the prismatic effects of the first "speed barrier breaking" faded away in the sky, leaving only some colored wisps. Cal extracted his gourd from the bags and started drinking greedily, to aid his thirsty throat and lower his temperature, and finally came back to just lay there and pant to relax.
Everything was almost perfect. It was a sunny day, he had fresh food, and even a pleasurable workout, coupled with his best flight session in a while.
Every other Cyno would easily have done that with a third of the effort.
Callistephus blinked, and his canine smile fell at once. He let out a soft growl, raising to his paws with his mood definitively ruined. He just had to do it, right? He had to remind himself of that.
Don't let it bother you, Cal. Now concentrate on your meal.
He lowered his head until his nose grazed the fur of the deer. After a testing sniff, he took the first mouthful. This is so good! There really was no comparison between that warm, juicy meat and the old seasoned stock he kept at home. At every bite he savoured the flavour, the drops of blood trickling down his muzzle and the satisfying creaking sound with an almost religious appreciation. His predator subconscious was in awe.
Once he had his fill, Cal grasped his gourd and raised his head to let some water flush in his mouth, cleaning it from the blood. He put it back in one of his bags and took the other, empty one. Then, he used his claws to cut the remaining meat in pieces and placed them in the bag, partly to be brought at home and fill his storing room again, and partly to be brought as a gift for his old pack.
Well, they weren’t really his pack anymore. Six years earlier, he made it pretty clear what he thought of them all, and left on his own before they could ask for his banishment, or his head, to the Alpha.
Old Romeo... I wonder how he is doing.
Most of that extra meat was meant for him. He always treated Callistephus the same way he treated all the other pups, despite his being so much weaker than them and his... "oddity". Cal's paw went to his scarf almost on its own.
That, and he had allowed him to keep living on his birthland. As an outcast, sure, but it still meant the world to Cal. The old wolf was the main reason he kept visiting the village.
That, and to keep your sanity~y!
"Yes, yes..." He muttered.
Once he finished packing, Cal secured the bags and the cloth around his neck again before flying up again and depart for the village. He waited just a moment to think what would have happened there.
As usual, he would have received some hateful and disapproving glares, as well as some sincere and happy smiles from his very few friends. Then, he would spend five minutes hearing from the Alpha, how he was the shame of the village… All this, while the old wolf ate the fresh meat. Then he would come back to his cave, clean it, and finally feel happy and satisfied for that day of hard work. And life would have kept going.
That was the moment when his ear flicked.
Uh?
"..."
Cal’s ear flicked again.
What was...
"Heeeeeeeey! You theeeere!"
Is there someone here?
He turned his eyes to the sky, to see who was calling him, and then he tilted his head in incomprehension.
Now, Cynogriffins furs ranged in a rather small gradient of colors. Nothing too much, but enough for their tastes. The most common colors were the typical black and grey. Another common color was dark brown. His light brown, fairly gold-like, was already rare. Then there was the white, already rather unusual. The least common was the the tame red of some of the most southern packs. As far as he knew, even considered the possible mixes of said mantles, there weren’t other colors for their fur.
That was why Callistephus couldn't really place the bright pink speck that was flying in his direction.
What... What is it doing?
There was something off. The speck seemed to be getting increasingly bigger every passing moment, as if it was approaching him really, really fast. Almost like it was diving in his direction. Or free-falling without any control.
His wings flared out of pure instinct, ready to spring away, but the sudden movement caused the still fatigued muscles to twinge, letting the wolf unmoving while the pink blur was almost on him. At the last moment, Cal ducked forward; and the colorful speck crashed on the ground behind him with a loud impact, a few inches from where he had been moments ago. A cloud of dust mixed with pink feathers engulfed him immediately, and for the second time that day, the wolf started coughing and scrambling away from the dirt.
Agh, again? Seriously? This is really getting... Hold on. Pink... Feathers? But this means...
He turned where the being had impacted. As the dirt cloud faded, Cal could finally see who or what the damn thing was, and he confirmed his suspicion. What was laying in front of the wolf was, without any doubt, an Alicorn.
Its fur was the embarrassingly bright pink he had seen from so far, so intense it almost hurt his eyes. Luckily, the color was well balanced by ragged blue hairs on its head and tail. The size of the equine was noticeably smaller than the standard he ascribed to the ponies, except for the wings, fully extended on the sides of the creature in what had probably been an attempt to slow the fall. A pair of saddlebags were right at its side, their belt loosened during the crash. The bags now were on the ground, uncovering the equine's pink flanks. Completely spotless pink flanks.
As soon as the realization struck him, Cal's eyes widened.
Even not being an expert about Alicorns by any means, he knew that every single one of them, when reached it's adulthood, gained a so-called "Destiny Emblem" on the outer sides of the hindlegs, representing the field of magic they excelled in. Quite an altisonant name for a picture on the butt, but Alicorns were just like that.
The wolf frowned: that was quite a big problem. The lack of these marks could mean that the Alicorn was still a child, which would have also explained why it was so little compared to the few others he had met. But it also raised a lot more of questions.
What in the whole Sky is an Alicorn pup doing alone so far from the capital? Was he with his parents and then got separated? And why would they have been here in the first place?
Cal needed to warn the Alpha. His reputation already had been compromised greatly in the past, he couldn't possibly let himself get in an even worse position than being exiled by interfering with this. He would get kicked out from his territory. His home. Yes, the kid was of no concern to him. He needed to bring it to the village and let it there.
It is the right thing to do.
Then, the smell of blood hit him.
His eyes focused on the equine again. The pink fur had hidden them a moment ago, but now several cuts and bruises were becoming evident all over the pony's body. The village was too far for him to reach quickly with such a heavy load, and the wounds, as minor as they looked, could still have been dangerous for a kid. He had to bring it somewhere safe to treat the scratches and stop the bleeding.
I have to bring it to my cave. It’s a lot closer.
He approached the body, his head hanging low to examine the body better. The chest raised and lowered itself regularly, meaning the Alicorn a healthy respiration, and even after a more careful check, none of the wounds seemed too deep or severe, so it was safe enough to move it. His eyes also shot a quick glance between the supposed child's legs. It was a female. So much for assuming it was a male. Rolling his eyes, Cal slipped his muzzle under the unconscious pony and loaded her on his back. Before opening his wings and taking off, however, the golden wolf hesitated a moment.
He was really putting himself in danger there. Could he really risk so much for a complete stranger? It was not like Cynogriffins had some tradition of hospitality. No one expected him to do something like this. He still had time to warn Romeo and leave her to the old wolf. A moment before, he had even already decided that it would have been the right thing to do anyway.
Right for who? For you, or for the kid? And whose wellbeing is the most important now?
Callistephus sighed and shook his head. It was not the moment for other justice-related mental trips he couldn't resolve, and, frankly, he wasn't even in the mood for it. To get used to the extra weight, he started flapping his wings, but a moment before getting airborne, his eyes fell on the pony's bags, forgotten on the ground. Tucking his wings again, Cal pulled the bags nearby with his mouth before looking at them more carefully. There was something written on each, a colorful word right at the center, under the straps. His eyes narrowed to read it through the grime and the dust covering it. It was evident that someone really cared about decorating the bags, each letter having not only been spotlessly written, but also personalized with swirling lines and little drawings that merged with the writing. Cal was ready to bet it was a name. Her name.
He shot a quick glance to the sleeping form on his back.
Well, at least now I know how to call you.
Hi, Firefly.
