It smelt of thick sweat and blood, the roaring of the crowd pounding in my skull as warm bodies pushed me forward and backwards at the same time, my own hands pushing forwards in the panic to see the display.
The group of burly, yet severely outnumbered, guardsmen did their best to push back the crowd with outstretched arms, confident orders in their voices yet their eyes spoke of fear of the mob as their eyes flickered to their sides to ensure their comrades were holding fast.
The heavy and sweet smell of gasoline permeated the air as I stood at my full height to catch a glimpse of the small band of equine figures dead ahead of us that seemed content in their business that made my heart pound against my ribcage and lips curve upwards in slight disbelief as I pondered whether and not they were going through with it.
“Hey,” sounded off a voice just behind me as something with claws and a modicum of strength grabbed my shoulder and roughly tugged it, “Hey!”
The grip soon went limp as a loud swoosh permeated the air, the near deafening roar of the madness coming to a near instantaneous stop as the fire began and overtook the several equines, their positions being one of a calm sitting position on all four of their legs.
The guardsmen stopped their retaliatory push as all commotion stopped at that moment, all eyes turning towards the six horses as they were engulfed in the growing flames feeding off of the copious amounts of gasoline and strange clothes that the six equines wore.
My arms went limp as I too gazed at the spectacle before me with a slightly agape mouth and wide eyes, never had I actually thought that they would go through with the self immolation.
I couldn’t make out the colors of any of their coats or manes but it was a fruitless task as their very fur and manes gave way to the vicious flames, fueled by the thick smelling gasoline that allowed the smell of burning flesh to follow suit that made something churn in my stomach.
My previous grin evaporated as I shivered while goosebumps overtook me, my eyes fixated on those six equines before me. Even as I was staring over the heads of several griffons and equines the sight was powerful enough to leave me flabbergasted.
The equines, now bathed in fire as their skin and fur left them, remained stock still in their sitting position on their legs with their eyes closed and faces solemn as they accepted their fates with a sage like calmness. A prominently tall one was the first to fall with his forehead hitting the rough cobblestone beneath him, certain equines and griffons immediately being shook out of their stupor and dropping to the ground in their prayer positions with hysterical voices as they said their fallacies in frantic voices.
Us with stronger hearts and stomachs continued to stare. By that time I had managed to close my mouth as my tongue cried out for water as I felt a vicarious panic of fire, my chest and head feeling as if they were being licked at by the fires.
And so one by one the martyrs fell, going limp in their sacrificial self immolation that nobody cared to stop as all who weren’t too busy praying were absorbed in the scene of suicide. Never before had anything of the sort happened in the world, at least to my attention, in recent decades.
But there was one equine, one tougher than the rest as he endured it all, that splayed out his front legs out was far as he could in front of him and sucked in a great breath. With a mighty slam of his hooves down upon the ground as tiny bits of cobble sprung out from the ground as the colt, with splotches of his white fat showing from his burnt body, gave out a mighty cry that pierced the air and gripped us all with fear that caused us to move back and for some to trip on the praying.
And with that the mighty stallion went limp, his dead body continuing to blaze brightly with his five comrades as the religious and surprised began to sob loudly and mourn at the ambush of a spectacle.
Several moments later I shook my head violently before peeling my eyes off of the still burning bodies and glanced to my right to find my traveling companion standing on all fours with a petrified look ingrained in her face, her golden eyes the side of beads as I wiggled through the crowd towards her side.
Giving her a hard shake from the shoulder, her fur was standing straight out as well as her wings slightly flared out and feathers bristled, she glanced up to me with wide eyes full of panic and questioning what to do as she met my then placating eyes that showed a complete calm after I took a moment to stabalize.
Flicking my head in the direction opposite of the scene, I quietly began to walk away as the odd mix of griffon paws and claws sounded just behind me as she followed much more closely than any time previous. I spared a glance behind me as the noise of the city slightly returned with the caw of seagulls to see her eyes trained dead on my rough shirt, her face void of any emotion as her legs moved on instinct.
Shaking my head at the sight, I was met with the familiar sight of the crowded streets of Iuris as the prattle of merchants began to resonate through the passing houses and small businesses. Managing to maneuver myself through the crowds was simple enough as the distant smell of saltwater worked its way into my nose and made me shiver involuntarily at the prospect of once again having to cross that mighty ocean once again.
Once again implies everything works smoothly, a rather snarky bit of my mind called out but was subsequently shot down by the rational part in my brain.
We walked by the busy merchant section being no worse for wear with our destination dead ahead of us. Run down would be an understatement for the building that belonged to a member of my companions family.
Somewhat moldy and loose planks of wood made up the walls of the shabby two story house that stood somewhat off center and gave the viewer a precarious feeling. There was a single window to the right of the first floor just below the poorly maintained porch cover that seemed to be open and the only normal thing about the house.
Our footsteps were the only noise as we entered up the barren yard, the ambient noise and obligatory sound of someone yelling in the distance diminished into near nothingness as I unlocked the door after my companion handed it to me with her still blank expression but with some life returning to her eyes as she dared to glance downwards instead of dead ahead.
The door opened with a slight creak as the homely smell of dust and the click clack of an approaching pet which charged its way past me. Gilda barely flinched as the aged English Mastiff made a mess of her face with its tongue, slobbering profusely all the while.
An annoyed grimace formed on Gilda’s beak as she peered down at the black faced companion of her elders that, once it noticed the mean glare sent his way, soon stopped his relentless assault
And with that Gilda’s previously angry demeanor gave way to a exhausted grin as she gave the hefty pooch a quick rub on the head and sent him on his way with some gentle words and a pointed digit down the hallway. Ruckus, as his name came to be, gave off a reasonable bark as he galloped down the corridor with his tail hitting the walls of narrow hallway.
Gilda merely shrugged upon catching my stare as the sight reminded me of times long past and forgotten faces. Shaking my head lightly, I broke eye contact with her and turned to take the left towards the kitchen where I began to rummage around for the desired substance. The soft creaking of a well worn table announced that the young griffon was still following me in silence, a very rare thing considering the boisterous attitude of hers.
Sliding my calloused hands all along the backs of every shelf in the cupboards proved pointless as I never felt the smooth feel of a lukewarm of a bottle hidden behind the bread loafs and spice bottles. Rubbing my smooth chin with my off hand I grunted in dissatisfaction before settling for two glasses of tap water down on the knee high table and taking my seat opposite of the silent griffon.
There were a few moments of silence as we both digested what we had just witnessed, the only sounds coming from our small sips and the muffled screaming of an argument belonging to a couple that owned the shack all too close the one belonging to Gilda’s elder.
Both of our eyes were glued to the scratched wooden table below us as my body finally began to cease shivering from the growing cold of the early November chill. Finding the warmth encouraging and soon regaining my composure, I glanced upwards to see Gilda’s yellow eyes staring pointedly at her glass with her young mind hard pressed to digest the brutal and abrupt suicides.
“Hey, Gilda,” I called out with a weak voice to notice minimal effect on the perturbed Gilda straight out of flight school, “you alright there, mate?”
The lack of response soon forced me to slowly wave a hand in front of her face with my own face scrunched up in unease and slight fear for the young griffon as I soon began to poke her lightly in the shoulder. Lightly cuffing the prominent mass of feathers on her chest. I reeled back in shock as her eyes went wide and she slammed a clenched claw on the wooden table.
“That bastard,” she hissed through a thin beak as her eyes narrowed with a silent fury, “he knew this was going to happen all along!” She let loose a low growl as the sound of her tail thumping around in anger slowly grew in volume and frequency.
“What?” I questioned after a moment of thought, utterly clueless as to what my traveling companion was referring to.
Her eyes locked onto mine, “The captain, Renagas, he knew it was going to happen!” She caught sight of my confused expression which only caused her anger to swell, “Think about it, man, when he took us aboard his crew it was full of teens and kids, a bunch of impressionables into a land full of social unrest and on the verge of revolution!”
“And he decides to return conveniently on the day of all this” - Gilda failed to suppress a shiver - “to bring back another shipment of damn near kids and more than a few journalists, judging by their notepads and cutiemarks!”
My eyes slowly widened as the realization dawned upon me, but I wasn’t yet to fester in the rage at the treachery as Gilda merely continued.
“They were planning it all; Think about it, Schulz. He told us he would have space enough for us to get us into the capital but he apparently also promised that to everyone else at the docks.” She took a moment to suck in a breath, “There were at least two hundred others crowded around the place before it all went down, all waiting at the exact spot waiting for him, and it all started a short while after the ship docked.”
I merely shook my head in disbelief before adopting a snarl and slamming both fists down as my voice roared throughout the house, “Son of a bitch!” Not only was it a crippling blow to my quest to Yasso, the jewel of The Empire, but was sure to spark the nationalist fervor swelling within every oppressed race within the small colony to rise up against their masters.
“Quickly,” I took off towards the front door with a brief stop to urge my companion to follow with furious waves and a commanding voice, “the guard must know, we can’t let this filthy rat get away!”
The walk back towards the well worn house of Gilda’s grandmother was quite silent, nearly no words being exchanged as the griffon took the lead this time with a stiff posture as she moved ever forward.
Being myself, I dared to glance about as several street urchins darted in between my companion and myself with their scratchy voices and lanky limbs propelling them forward at maximum speed. The group of several equines varied heavily in color, both in their manes and coats, yet all had the common thin body shape the equines of this land seemed to have. Damn skinny, but not thin as to be considered starving. Slightly malnourished and grubby were two epithets I would have said I were banter about their kind.
My face adopted a scowl as one of them, a particularly wide eyed filly whose voice made me automatically irked me and something about her stance that made me mentally disparage her, found it convenient to stumble into my leg and trip over her own lanky legs and hit the cobblestone with a smack. I only stepped over the obnoxious little thing after staring it down for the better half of a minute before noticing Gilda either hadn’t cared or didn’t notice my lagging behind.
Catching up to Gilda, I could faintly make out a local guardsman hollering and swooping down upon the little ones with the rough end of his left leg before all five equines fled the scene, pregnant with fear of the beefy guard. They had all the right to be, considering the imposing height advantage she had on them when she stood on both hind legs with her mighty spear in hand, clad in a thick dark gambeson with a dark red shield. The early afternoon light glistened off of the guardsman’s visored sallet as she shook her head in exasperation of the foals and retook position on the street corner.
Soon enough we came into view of the financial district yet again, my eyes giving a rudimentary glance over the various shops and vendor stalls stationed far and wide about the place. The stalls were fairly rudimentary, uneven in some places and some were leaning to one side as their wooden planks showed their fair share of aging. A far cry from the well kept stores that lined the streets, their varying colors and well made wares inside shining through polished glass.
The stall and shop workers seemed to be completely enthralled in their works and duties, yet it became instantly clear that the place was, for all intents and purposes, dead.
There were absolutely no customers in sight. A shiver involuntarily ran down my spine as our footsteps became one of the few sounds ringing out throughout the place packed previously in the morning, my eyes darting to and fro for the sight of anyone else who wasn’t a guardsman or shop owner.
“You seein’ this?” questioned Gilda as she briefly saw cast me an uneasy glance, unsure of what to make of the whole situation. I gave her a barely noticeable nod just before her head turned back around and we continued in silence down the cobbled road.
Glazed over eyes of the equines followed me as I passed, their worn minds and bodies from having to keep an eye out for petty thievery and the likes all while haggling to try and make ends meet to put food on the table. A few slightly woke at the sight of movement again and shook their heads, faint ideas of cutting the day short and heading to the local tavern for a drink before getting an actual night's rest.
Looking past the destitute folks, a pair of brilliant pair of bright brown eyes caught my own. My steady gait didn’t falter as I observed the rather clean and stout looking fellow, a young griffon male with a predominantly grey coat who was no older than twenty years old with a rather impassive look upon his face. He merely blinked upon realizing I had returned the stare before switching his eyes over to Gilda, a claw rising up to scratch his chin while he nodded while giving a slight shrug at the young one.
Shaking my head at the sight, a small derisive grin creeping its way onto my face as my theory about how all sapient life would replicate itself across all borders, the poon hound making an unexpected but useful example to my unspoken theory.
Oh how I would come to regret wishing that to be the last time I would have seen the rather dapper looking lad.
“She wants to know if you’re allergic to fish,” Gilda said as both of our eyes were locked onto the massive platter as the eldest of the house slowly carried it towards the table.
The thing was absolutely massive, a silent curse being spoken under my breath as the weight of the thing caused the table to shake slightly when it was gently sat down on the table center. The sea bass, although common around the waters of Iuris, didn’t fail to impress at the dinner table when it was two and a half feet wide and looked as if it weighed as much as a small child.
I turned to the cook with a sincere smile upon my face and bowed my head in thanks before voicing my gratitude in the their tongue before glancing back up to see the homely face of Merry smile back at me after processing that I had actually shown positive emotion on my face. It was the first time I had done so in her company, after all, so it was only natural.
Gilda looked pointedly at the large fish in a poor excuse not to meet my sincere and grateful look. Eventually she relented, after several peeps at me, and met my look with a slightly embarrassed and annoyed stare to catch my polite smile and slight nod of appreciation. She merely flicked a dismissive hand while breaking eye contact and deciding to take the first bit of the large fish and large salad bowl of the meal. I could see the corners of her beak shift upwards, if only for a moment.
I was actually immensely grateful and surprised with the hospitality and sense of equality Gilda had shown towards me as our first meeting around a little over a month beforehand ended in me thinking that she was merely a naive young woman that would eventually make me lose my temper repeatedly.
But, much to my surprise, she proved to be quite antisocial and fearful of socializing when it came to talking about things that weren’t rehearsed introductions or small talk about recent events. We barely talked, if at all, during the trip from the Western Continent, due to the situation of me being within the hold of the ship and Gilda riding on one of the crew spots within the ship. I suspected she tried to act impassive and distant as a defense mechanism to actually being forced to socialize, I knew this from experience.
With her social ineptitude and stuttering characteristic in mind, it was a substantial shock to me when she approached Merry directly and told her of the situation in a bold fashion that gave me pause along with a small case of fright. And, much to my surprise, Merry merely smiled and took me in as if I were family. I was infinitely grateful for the understanding of the old griffon as well as Gilda taking that risk instead of just getting through our arrangement as quick as possible and dropping me off at Yasso with me barely alive as she could’ve easily thrown me out in the cold with nothing but a blanket until the boat arrived.
Seeing as the youngest of us all had taken her portion of the meal, I took my own proportion as Merry watched me and Gilda with expectant eyes. Not wanting to taint the finely cooked meat with any sauce, I set upon my bit of fish with zeal and found myself cutting out increasingly large pieces of the fish until it was all gone.
I distinctly remember contemplating suicide for a fleeting moment before I realized that there was still a significant sum left on the platter.
“Can’t tell you how good it feels to eat meat again,” I said chugging my glass of water in one go, “those pills may cut it for the protein in my diet but they taste like sand.”
Gilda repeated my words exactly in her own language, though sadly lacking my own enthusiasm as I began to tear into my bowl of salad.
“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Gilda translated, “if only my own…” There was a pause as she processed what the old woman had said, though I could tell from a quick glance up that it was a jab at someone, and that someone being the young griffon.
Melly merely cooed some encouraging words to Gilda. The slightly indignant look of hers merely shattered under the sweet old gaze of her senior, “But graaaaaaaaaaaaansssss,” she whinned with a slight slump and a scowl.
Truth be told, I completely understood all the conversation between her and Melly. I don’t know how, nor do I wish to try and find out why, but the dominant language throughout The Empire managed to be a near identical version of German, or as they like to call it, Germane from the equines within The Empire as it was just starting and became dominant as the griffon language before that required their beak to say specific words and sounds. It was a matter of practicality for The Empire rather than a culture or religion.
“Kidding, kidding,” said Gilda’s grandmother with a quiet chuckle before taking her first bite of the fish, oddly having eaten her salad before the fine fish. Her smile turned into a grimace as something was mumbled about a specific sauce before she stood to go scour the cupboards for some little bottle.
Catching my little smirk, Gilda was quick to wave away my look with a quick fix of her most prominent feathers atop her head, “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a slightly embarrassed voice.
Sniggering, I merely took another bit of fish and salad before the old griffon returned with a small bottle of some white paste and smeared it all over the top of her fish. I blinked several times at the stuff, my mind trying to articulate my exasperation at the clearly familiar condiment.
Is that... t-tartar sauce?
….
…….
Dear Lyra,
By the time this letter will have reached you, if at all, then you will have assuredly heard about the disturbing scene down by the docks. Me and Gilda have been at dock for no more than a week and already several things have gone amiss. We were supposed to leave earlier this day and were ambushed by the damn fanatic’s suicide in the middle of the docks, in front of hundreds of young impressionables disembarking from the ships and a number of guardsmen that had no idea that they had the intent of self-immolation.
It was quite a sight, surreal infact, coupled with the deafening silence of it all as they went limp one by one in front of our eyes. Now, I am afraid, we may be caught in the thick of some infighting if all I hear and see shall prove my predictions right. I’ve seen the look on the young one’s eyes, their susceptible faces mixed with scorn for The Empire and the elitist griffons that run the system as they walk by the government house and any non-equestrian in these lands. Answering generalization and racism in kind, it does not bode well for the young men and women of this colony.
There will be riots within the city in the coming days, though I hope that we may depart as soon as possible, yet Gilda seems reluctant on leaving her grandmother within a city in such a state and finding another voyage willing to transfer me to Yasso, The Empire’s capital, so I may sell my wares and begin my journey back.
Having already heard about the unrest in this area and several pamphlets being published in the name of freedom for the oppressed races within the land, there is no doubt in my mind that the self-immolations will no doubt cause some sort of violent reaction from within Aragon or abroad.
If all of this ends this week, everyone just walks away and goes back to their loved ones before it escalates, then there will be much prosperity for all as the growing politics of the world force The Empire to abandon its way of racism and subjugation. If not, I weep for the coming generations as the tens of thousands will be sent to their premature deaths.
I will be fine, Gilda has been more than sufficient in her duties in keeping me fed and rested on the journey and doesn’t look to stop anytime soon. But pray for my luck in the chance that a random vessel will happen to take us abroad to Yasso so I may sell my wares and come back with my name to be put in the books as a name of science and one dedicated to the mind as well as a rich man rather than a millionaire along with my name being spat and called a warmonger.
I miss our various debates that used to drag for hours and I wish you the best of luck in your life and still wonder if you will receive that promotion you’ve been pushing for back in the office. The days have dragged on and on with barely a word spoken between me and anyone else and I’m already halfway through that Equestrian history book. You remember the one, that one as thick as myself and had lost its spine lost ago? Good read and quite interesting, despite what you have said.
Don’t get too sad without me gone, I’ll come back with riches fit for a king and finally have enough to repay your kindness, with interest, and buy you a cozy old house for your mom and pop.
With warm regards,
Ernst Schulz.
P.S. Remember what I have said, no one except yourself is to see what I have written or know of it. Not even your significant other.
With a sigh, I rolled up the scroll of finely aged yellow parchment before tying it up with a frayed piece of string. Nodding at my knot, I slowly rummaged in my rucksack for a moment before finding the desired purple gemstone. Glad that I didn’t lose it already, I slowly hovered the finely cut amethyst stone above the scroll.
Ever so slowly did the letter burn before the finely crafted piece of magic ingenuity. First the edges of the paper began to smolder and burn before disappearing into the void of nothingness as continued the process across the piece of parchment several times.
About ten minutes later the process was finally said and done as a bare desk laid where the letter once laid. A satisfied nod left me as I tossed the pencil and small amethyst into my bag, a hand going to scratch my bald head as I wondered about my dearest friend oversees, the one I had left to ensure her prosperous future and finding someone she would be happy with.
