It sat there, staring at me through the strangely large eyes its species carried. Normally expressive and vibrant with life, the orbs seemed dull in the chilled room. Yes, I could have removed the muzzle at this point, but some things always needed to be said to the subject before their release. You know, I'd never wanted to be involved in this bloody business but the family trade is the family trade after all. So I sat in the dark while the shackled pony realized the position it was in. It was chained to this inevitability as soundly as I was.
Bright Spear would only be able to see the polished metal table he was currently strapped to and the shadows beyond. Dull pain from the cold steel against his barrel and muzzle slowly leached the energy from his limbs. If he were able to feel emotion, I'm quite assured the unicorn would have been panicking to the point of soiling himself. Oh yes, I haven't explained that part yet. Sorry, I do get a little bit absorbed in the theatrics of the thing instead of getting to the point. With a slight flourish to stretch my wings, I stepped out from the shadows and basked in the harsh light.
"Bright Spear, you have been found guilty of treason by a trial of your peers and royals. Truthfully, your supposed 'crime' matters little as your punishment has already been decided and begun. It is safe to assume you've noticed the sensation of cold spreading through you, along with an overwhelming sense of detachment. The short answer is simple really, you are going to die. How depends just on your reaction."
The glazed eyes of the pony followed me as I neared the table, my talons clicking against the tiled floor with every step. I knew not what crime he had committed or had been thought of committing, but his fate was assured. This was something my family had never once thought of occurring to us. His name alone was spoken in reverence in some places, a visage that was considered regal. For several generations, the children of royal lineage had carried the porcelain coat, and the former prince was no different. His mane however was a garish electric blue that could only have come from his grandsire. Again, I digress, my apologies.
It was a simple thing to remove the muzzle, just a single strap that wrapped around his head. No matter how many times I've done this, the acrid scent of burnt hair and blood still assaulted my sense of smell. Yes, it was a necessity to keep the subjects complaint, but having them delivered as such was still disturbing. A simple mistimed gesture could knock the entire cap of his skull off to expose the electrodes buried within. So you didn't know of the process? For an inspector you should know such things. Prior to their arrival, the subjects are prepared by their fellows by having a pair of probes buried in the soft tissues of their brain. A little low voltage later and you have a very compliant and emotionless subject. This way it lets the condemned make a final appearance and remain among the living on their trip here. Even with the muzzle removed, I've never once heard one of them speak or make a single noise really. A small blessing I suppose.
If you don't mind sir, I'd like to get along on this though. I do have a timetable set by the Empire to keep after all. Pardon the pun, but this is really no different than carving up a vegetable. I assure you that all procedures are followed as are set by the treaty. Yes, I'll get on with it m'lord.
It is an odd thing, holding a knife that has the weight of a thousand souls on it. No matter how many times it is cleaned, it always feels heavy in the talons. Ponies sort fur always tickles against my skin for some reason, I've always assumed it was because of their natural magics. In the end, it matters little when Bright Spear gives a small shudder and falls limp. Death always leaves a bitter scent in the air. What's that m'lord? Oh yes, the fan controls are the switch next to you sir.
With practiced ease, I slip the knife free from the subject's neck and place his head above an indent in the table when blood begins to pool. Such a simple thing, adding a small incline to the table but it makes my job so much easier. Now is the time to work quickly though, the first of many knives slicing a crimson line through alabaster fur, the pattern quickly spreading from joint to joint, belly to sides, hide slowly stripping away. Naturally, I am careful not to slice into the abdominal cavity as the blades quest deeper until striking ribs.
Oh, could you hand me those cutters hanging on the wall next to you? If you haven't been involved in this before, I do warn you sir. Very well.
Everyone thinks that bone makes a loud snap when it breaks. Nothing could be further from the truth. In reality it is little more than a softened crunching noise. Yes, I see you look away while the noise repeats again and again. It is simple but bloody work, this. Soon enough, a dripping slab of ribs is ready to be placed on a waiting table. Where the missing bits were opens to reveal the mystery of flesh underneath. As always, the first thing to be taken, weighed and measured is the heart. A few careful slices spare it from the maze of arteries and veins that hold it dearly. Absolutely amazing that something so small and fragile holds the key to life. Carefully, I scratch the information into the diptych provided for this subject. Why they require such thorough notes, I'll never know but they provide only one. This continues through all the usual bits, eyes, lungs, liver, kidneys, you name it, it is included on the list. One requested item appears to be his, well stallionhood. Something I'll refuse to contemplate as my talons and blades set to work. I can honestly say it is something I hope never to have to measure again in my career.
Oh, you are here for the tablets? Of course sir, I'll finish up momentarily. A thin strip of hide fits easily into an attached pouch, and a sample of blood into the small vial as well. You need that too? Very well. Tenderly, the subjects 'hardware' slips into a bag given from the shadows nearby, before I close the tablets and hand them into the gloom with the needed samples. As always, I turn away from the shadow. You are never to see the subject arrive nor any other persons other than the subject through this process. Thankfully, it is nearly done and I can get on with my morning.
Soon enough, the wet noises cease and I am left with several stacks of flesh and bone. Some are placed in drums to be cooled while the trays are slipped onto a rack inset into the wall. That I am only doing my job is the mantra voicing itself through my mind while I spin a tap and rinse my talons in the heated water. Every bit of water carrying away the weight of my task, the color stained onto my talons, only to reveal the white plumage below it all. Soon enough it'll be my turn to pass these teachings onto the hatchlings and let them carry the family name into the future. Until then, I have work to do.
A dull thud heralds my departure from the chilled room and welcomes me into the blooming light of a new day. Golden color streams through the large plate windows in front of me while I flip the small handmade sign over. Ten generations this sign has been in the family, and it will probably be used for another ten. Despite our tasks, it brings a small smile to my beak to see the letters revealed in the light.
Welcome to Goldtalon's Meats.
My name is Alric Goldtalon and I have a great special today.
Author's Note
So this was a complete departure from my usual writing style that came to me at 2am (ish) when I couldn't sleep. Still, it helps set the universe for Petrichor when I finally get around to publishing it.
As a whole, not anywhere near as dark as I thought it would end up when I started. More of a narrative than imagery heavy which is odd for me. As a whole, what do you guys think?
