Aitana Pones: The hell's fever
Chapter 1: The pony slave
CHAPTER 1: The pony slave
Three years before.
City of Taichnitlan.
Wolf Kingdoms.
A young wolverine carried a bag filled with scrolls, while he shook one of them in her claws yelling something in his mother tongue. A creature approached: it was a quadruped, with paws that ended in a single not-sharpen claw. It had a brown coat, slightly darker in her fang-less snout. Over its head and neck a violet and grey mane fell down, the same colours that adorned the tail of the creature. It wore and strange green waistcoat, filled of pockets, and over its head there was a white explorer hat. Underneath that one a white piece of fabric was hold, covering the back of the strange creature, protecting it from the heat of the sun.
The wolverine had never seen such a thing. But the most impressive fact was when it talked in a perfect wolf tongue, although with a very marked accent, “give me an scroll, boy”.
The young wolf took the golden piece that it gave him and he gave an scroll in exchange. “Are you a pony, sir? There are not many ponies in the Wolf Kingdoms!”
“I am a female, boy”, the creature answered, “and yes, I am a pony, name's Aitana Pones. Is it true what you were announcing?”
“Yes, miss pony!” he answered. “The millenarian Crystal Empire has reappeared but, if I have to say the truth, I have no idea about what that is”.
The wolverine waved good bye and continued his way, announcing the scroll's main news -they were the wolf equivalent to newspapers-: 'The Crystal Empire reappears after a millennia gone”. Aitana opened his own scroll and, after reading the news, she exclaimed in equestrian: “For fucks sake! A damn millennia disappeared and it comes back when I am in the ass of the world! Fucking luck!”.
Still swearing in low voice, she launched the scroll to a pile of garbage and proceeded on her way. Taichnitlan was the commercial capital of the Wolf Kingdoms. It grew like a flower next to the sea, in the middle of the desert. Its buildings were built mainly with bricks and clay, giving to the whole set a monotone orange-brown colour scheme. But, however, palm trees and fountains decorated the streets and houses of the richest families, giving the city a well merited nickname: 'The Jewel of the dessert'.
Hundreds of merchants went daily through the port, that was always rushing with activity. The population was mostly of low and worker class, gathering the wealth just a few maharajahs. But the inhabitants of Taichnitlan didn't have great problems to subsist: the food was never short and, despite being surrounded by desert and sea, the water abounded in the form of fountains and artificial springs that were flooded through a deflection of the Filho river that passed at a few kilometres from the city.
To travel through the wolf kingdoms was risky. In a city, if a pony was unnoticed, he could count with the relative security that he would only be attacked by robbers that would be happy enough to take his gold. But, in less populated areas, it was a matter of time that someone would try to assassinate him, specially being a pony. It must never be forgotten that the wolves are, mostly, carnivorous. Although they could survive with a vegetarian diet, culturally, it was still considered an extravagance.
Aitana walked through the streets of the city towards her destination. After crossing through a market she got into the richest part of the city. The wolves that saw her, and occasionally a griffon, stopped, whispering in low voice. Aitana was used to it and, after all, she understood it. Despite all the good things that Equestria had, she had noticed through her travels that it was a very closed nation. The ponies didn't know almost anything about the neighbour nations with the only exception of Griffonia.
The houses of the zone were protected by guards, mercenaries or servants of rich bourgeois and merchants. Several business were happening behind those doors, many of the probably of questionable morals, and other openly illegals. But it was not for those that Aitana had come to that place, those things were not her business. She arrived to a house or, better said, an small palace. Two wolf guards guarded the gate.
The wolves, usually, walked as a quadruped as well, but their forepaws ended in claws that had a pseudo-opposable thumb. That permitted them to grab and use all sort of objects with more dexterity than the average pony. And every wolf warrior was trained fight standing over his hind legs, leaving the forepaws free to use big weapons.
Such as they were doing at the sight of Aitana: standing over the hind legs the wolves almost doubled the height of any pony. They wore reinforced leather armours, a sword hanged on their belts, and they had bronze halberds on their claws. When Aitana got closer they adopted a defensive stance and crossed their weapons in front of the gate. “You can't get in, the amnar merchant Alib ib Massan ib Massaure is reunited”.
The warrior, whose fur was grey, spoke the pony language quite awkwardly. Aitana could see three marks tattooed under the fur of his arm, one for each enemy that the wolf had killed. Trying to be polite, the pony spoken in the mother tongue of the guard. “Alib ib Massan is a busy wolf, but we are old friends. Inform him that Aitana Pones has come for a visit”.
"I think you don't get it, pony”, sputtered the other warrior violently, showing all his teeth. “Your species are nothing more than cattle. And I'm starting to be hungry, right Mohammed?”. Both mercenaries laughed in low voice, expecting the mare to run away from her unsubtle menaces. After all, they were a race of pussies risen in a rainbow land, and they never were involved in real trouble. Such pussies that they were incapable of leaving their homes to commerce in the great port of Taichnitlan. For the wolf mercenaries, the ponies were a race that didn't deserve any more respect than the pigs they raised to eat.
But, for the surprise of both warriors, that pony did not run away. She didn't even shown sign of getting frightened. Even more: she stared directly to their eyes and, with an arrogant smile, she said “of course. No doubt that you don't want to annoy your owner, right dogs?”
“Stupid pony, we are mercenaries contracted by Alib ib Massan, not slaves.”
“Oh, excuse me, dog, but I didn't know that your species were now paid with gold. Don't worry, certainly they will give you a cookie by the end of the day.”
There were not shouts or warning, the mercenaries simply rose their weapons and attacked the pony. Aitana jumped to one side, dodging the first halberd. Then she crouched on the ground, dodging the weapon of the other guard and she charged with all her forces against the grey wolf.
Inside the house, the great bourgeois Alib ib Massan ib Massaure heard a huge rumble through the main gate, followed by combat sounds. The extremely fat wolf called his servants, fearing that an enemy was coming to kill him. But who? He had paid to the Mafia of the city, and bribed all the authorities! There was no one with reasons or enough power to kill him!
He didn't have time to get away from the gate when that one was opened. A few servants arrived, holding clubs and knives, willing to fight for their own lives rather than for their master's one. But behind the door they found an extraordinary scene:
The grey-furred mercenary was lying in the floor, holding his belly with his claws, fighting for breathing. The other guard was on his knees, his halberd on the floor, several metres away from him. A sword was being hold at a few centimetres from his neck, by a pony. That one turned away, spitting the sword to the ground, and the wolf merchant recognized instantly his old business pal. “Alib, you should contract better educated guards” sentenced Aitana, speaking in wolf. “If they had announced me as I asked for, that would not have happened”.
“Aitana Pones!” exclaimed Alib, relieved. “Much time has passed! Come in, old friend, and let my servants serve you figs and some tea. And... someone, take care of the mercenaries, come on!” he added, doing two sonorous claps.
The servants obeyed in perfect order. Before that the main courtyard door was closed, Aitana could see how the grey wolf looked at her with anger. She sighted to herself: those wolves would cause her problems. That was her vice: wherever she went, she had to search for problems.
The interior courtyard of the mansion was practically an small oasis: an artificial lake filled the centre of the place, with lilies growing over it. Two female wolves, two of Alib's wives, were having a calm bath. One of them was around forty years old, just a little younger than her husband. The other one, on the other hand, had barely went over her puberty.
Alib guided her invited -to address with a single word to the way Aitana had presented herself in the house- to a little table under the shadow of a palm tree. He clapped two times and some servants brought a tray filled with desert vegetable delights: figs, prickly pears, thorn-free cactus with honey... they also brought an smoky teapot and two glasses. Alib ordered off the servants and proceeded to serve the tea.
Aitana noticed that one of the servants, that wore a collar identifying her as an lave, was a pony. Red fur, black mane collected in two pigtails that fell at both sides of her face, and a cutie mark with the form of a golden watch. But she decided to not say anything about it, yet. “Tell me, my friend” said the wolf speaking roughly, but politely in pony, “what did bring you to my beautiful city? And I hope that the reason is not to humiliate my mercenaries.”
Aitana took her tea and sipped it. Bitter, strong and aromatic, 'bitter as birth', as the wolves born in the desert used to say. Then, she answered the question with a single word: 'Manresht'.
The wolf didn't fully finish the sip of tea and stared blankly to the archaeologist. “Are you kidding?”
“Alib, you know that when it comes to chase creatures and damnations from the antique world I never joke.”
The wolf ate something while he observed his invited, expecting that she would confirm at any moment that it was just a joke to relax the ambience, but it never happened. “Are you telling me” he continued, speaking in his mother tongue, “that you have crossed one half of the world to pursue the myth of a diablerist sorcerer that awaits its moment rise again? Seriously, is that a joke, Aitana?”
“No. My investigations indicate that the legend could be real, and some of my artefacts shown that something is happening in the desert. I've come here to investigate.” Both of them finished their tea and Alib served two new glasses. The sugar stone inside the teapot had smoothed the drink, eliminating the original bitterness. 'Smooth as the life'.
“And what do you need from that humble merchant?”
“Access to the centres of wisdom of that city and a place in which to rest secured over the night, and maybe a team of diggers and mercenaries to venture in the desert. In exchange I offer you a thirty percent of any benefit in gold we may get from the expedition”
“And what about if there aren't enough benefits or you are wrong, old friend?” asked Alib. “Even if you never failed before, I would not be a merchant of my category if I was not cautious”.
Aitana brought a piece of cactus with honey to her mouth, while she settled accounts in her head. It was delicious. She found it was ironic that, in a mostly carnivorous culture, they were able to elaborate vegetarian delights like that one. “You know that I am not precisely poor. If it doesn't turn out good, I will pay you all the expenses plus a twenty percent of the total, for all the troubles.”
Alib meditated the offer. “To have a pony accommodated in my house is always a risk, my friend. Even more considering that you have already looted some millenarian tombs. Those things always create powerful enemies.”
“And the benefits it provided you, don't forget it. Tell me your price”.
“Forty five if it turns out well, thirty percent if it doesn't.”
“Thirty five and twenty five. My last offer”.
After some seconds of silent rumination, the extremely fat wolf smiled and rose his tea, sealing the pact with the pony custom of a toast. Aitana did the same. They spent a good time speaking about other subjects, mainly about the best commercial pacts that Alib had signed the last year.
“Alib” interrupted Aitana after some time, "I have observed that you have a pony slave. They are uncommon in the Wolf Kingdom, she must have costed you a fortune.”
“A true rarity!” he exclaimed with joy. “An slave hander of my confidence was selling her some weeks ago. It was to see her, the strength of her gaze, and I decided to buy her.”
“The strength of her gaze, or the luxury to possess a pony slave?”
“Plus, she knows how to fight” said Alib, ignoring the slight annoyance in the voice of Aitana. “It is always wise to possess happy and well cared slaves that are able to fight. Security is always important for a wolf of my category.”
“As it is freedom”.
There was a tense silence. They had already debated in the past regarding slavery and it was not a good idea to start a new argument. For Alib the answer had not changed: Aitana was in a nation in which slavery was permitted, and she had to accept it. Aitana drained her tea and approached the glass to the centre of the table, so Alib could serve the third and last drink, as the custom marked. “I want to buy her. Tell me your price”.
The wolf busted out in a laughter, almost spitting out his tea. “You cannot afford her, pony! Except, of course, that you have become millionaire during the last year, which I doubt.”
“ And you are not wrong. But I do have some artefacts way more valuable than any slave. What do you think about the Golden Alicorn sceptre? In Equestria I can barely sell it for a few thousands bits, but in the Wolf Kingdoms is worth of thousands of gold coins.
The merchant raised his eyebrow, incredulous. “And may I know where do you keep an ancestral sceptre of pure gold of almost 2 metres long? Because if it is inside of what I'm thinking of, I'm afraid its value is going to drop drastically”.
“You sick bastard” exclaimed Aitana with half an smile. “Seriously, I don't want to know which kind of perversions you imagine with me while you lay with your youngest wife”.
“The youngest one has energies, but she lacks of experience. I reserve myself for Emilda, the one that's almost my age, for the most difficult things.”
“Such as finding your... tool underneath your immense belly?”
“Well, that's enough!” exclaimed Alib. “Now seriously, where is the sceptre?”
“At my home, of course, safely guarded. But I can arrange everything to have it sent to you. It will take roughly two weeks to arrive in the next ship from Equestria.”
Alib smiled openly. “It is a very generous payment, so generous that I will erase the clause 'in case it goes wrong' from our deal, and I will consider you my invited during this time. But I will not give you the ownership of the pony slave until I don't have the sceptre in my claws.”
“Fair enough” answered Aitana. “But until then, she will serve me. If you don't receive the sceptre you can always recover her”.
With the satisfaction of a well-sealed agreement, they toasted their glasses again. Aitana took a long drink, her favourite. The sugar stone had dissolved almost completely, giving the tea a nice sweetie taste.
'Sweet as the death.'
Some time later, Alib and Aitana entered again in the house. From the main living room, the wolf shouted 'Pony! Come here!'. The red mare took a few seconds to appear. Now that she had the opportunity to observe her carefully, Aitana noticed some details: her black mane was slightly dishevelled. She should be roughly twenty nine or thirty years old, as Aitana was. Her eyes, coloured by an intense shade of green, looked to her owner and to the archaeologist, with the exhaustion of someone that is trapped in a despicable situation. “What do you wish?”
Alib frowned and brought his claw to a gem that hung around his neck. “Do I have to explain you again how to address to me properly, slave?”
The red mare stepped back half an step and instinctively rose one of her hooves to the slavery collar she wore around her neck. “No master, it's not necessary master, I'm sorry, master”.
“Alib” interrupted Aitana, “no matter how much I love to make deals with you, if you dare to use the punishment collar I will make sure that you are unable to use your paws for months.”
“My friend, she is still an inexperienced slave that needs to learn. And it is not a good idea to menace the one who is hosting you in his home.”
“As it wasn't a good idea for your guards to attack me, right Alib?”
The brown mare hold her stare to the wolf until that one looked away, frightened. He knew that a menace from Aitana Pones should not be taken lightly. “Slave, from this moment you will serve my invited as if she was your master. If I receive the accorded payment for you in two weeks, you will pass to be part of her property. Understood?”
“Yes, master.”
“Show her the invitees room.”
While Alib disappeared through a door, both mares took their way. Once they arrived to the room, the slaved mare closed the door behind her, staying with her new master.
“What's your name?” asked Aitana.
“I'm Macdolia” answered the red mare. “To whom do I owe my liberty?”
“Hah!” exclaimed the archaeologist with a sound laughter, “and how do you know that I'm going to free you, and not make you my slave?”
“Explorer hat, fur stained with the sand from the desert, determined look and you beat two wolf mercenaries without weapons. Plus, you didn't let Alib to use the god-damn collar” she said, touching the one that closed hopelessly around her neck. “I may be wrong, but you don't look like an unscrupulous slave trader”.
The brown mare smiled and tended her hoof to her. “I'm Aitana, Aitana Pones. How did you end up so far away from Equestria and sold as an slave?”
Macdolia observed her liberator with half opened mouth. After some seconds she looked down and muttered in a whisper: “She's Aitana, THE Aitana Pones”. Then she rose her head and talked normally, “well, let's say that I came with the intention of solving an issue. I'm a... bodyguard, in a manner of speaking. And I had the bad idea to think that the person I had to protect was my 'master'”.
“To protect that old pervert of Alib? Protect him from what exactly?” Then Aitana though again about what Macdolia had muttered in low voice. “Wait a second, do you know me?”
With an smile, the red mare denied with her head. “Not directly, but I know your work. The archaeology fascinates me. And coming back to the first question: I had suspected that my 'master' may be in danger. You just need to see the people he frequents and the business he gets in. But when I wanted to notice it... I was stuck into a problem from which I could not get out easily.
Aitana nodded, comprehensive, “yes, once you get one of those collars only your master can remove it. I'm surprised that you know my work. Even though I gave many relics to the Equestrian museums, my theories have always been crossed as 'nonsenses' by doctors that have never moved their butts from their offices. My ideas break completely the established history, no matted how many proves I provide. They even refused to investigate the ruins that prove that there was a war between Equestria and Cebrania Five hundred years ago!”
“Maybe it's precisely because I possess a relic whose theories are even more unusual —said Macdolia, smiling—. Willing to know more about it drove me to find your name several times. You are considered a renegade in the archaeological world due to your... 'passion', to say it so, when you tried to prove your theories.”
Aitana brought a hoof to her neck, looking away. “Well...yeah. I think that calling the doctor TrottingHoof 'short-sighted inept' in the middle of a conference wasn't one of my brightest ideas”. After that she looked to Macdolia, interested. “Wait, what relic? Heh, the last think I expected to find in the Wolf Kingdoms was an slave in possession of a historical relic.”
Macdolia noticed that she had talked more than she should and, with an inch of sadness, she denied with her head. “I'm sorry... but I can't talk about it. Not yet.”
“No worries, your secrets are not my business” answered Aitana with a fellowship smile. “You will still be an slave until the payment for your purchase arrives, but after that you will be free. I think that it will coincide with the depart of the griffon merchant ship 'Sea Star', its captain is a friend of mine. He will bring you to Griffonia y from there you will have an easy way back to Equestria.”
“Then, we'll have to be pals until then, right?
“Well, you can always go back to serve Alib, if you wish.”
After some seconds of dubious silence both mares shared a sincere laughter. Probably, the first one that Macdolia had shared in several weeks.
Author's Note
Well, first full chapter of the story. "The wolf kingdom" is inspired by the old Fenician cities and culture.
If you are wondering about it: Yes, Macdolia is one of the OCs that was selected as a playable character for the videogame "Curse of the Lost Kingdom". His owner, Quisco Mcdohl, is a good friend of mine and we did roleplay the conversations between Aitana and Macdolia. He helped me a lot with the plot, and without Macdolia that fanfiction would simply be... boring.
Also, obviously the original Aitana Pones was a parody of Indiana Jones for a forum roleplaying game. However, as the game went on, Aitana acquired a marked personality and story that I though it deserved to be written down. Right now, Aitana doesn't have anything in common with the original Indiana Jones but the similarity in her name... and a detail you'll see in the next chapter.
I hope to read your reviews soon. I'll try to keep translating at a rate of one chapter per week. Please, tell me if there are problems with my grammar or format that I should correct.
Thank you again for reading my story! If you have any questions just ask and I will answer them in the next chapter.
Best!
