Census

by The 24th Pegasus

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Adventure
Length: 24198

A Cirran censor travels the land and records his experiences. Supplementary work to "Of Skies Long Forgotten."

"In the pegasus empire of Cirra, the quinquennial census of the population was incredibly important to taking stock of the resources of the empire. Two thousand years after Cirra's fall, the records kept by the censors offer an illuminating glimpse into what life was like for the pegasi and griffons in those ancient times. I have translated the personal records kept by one such censor, Aureus Primus, taken during the height of Cirran power in the Diodan continent. I present them here for you to read and learn more about this fascinating pegasus empire that we know so little about."

-T. Sparkle

Supplementary work to Of Skies Long Forgotten. It is strongly recommended that you take the time to read that story first before reading this one, as this story focuses more on the worldbuilding of the setting explored there, and contains some spoilers to the plot of that story as well.

Part of the Price of Loyalty storyverse.

Published 2016-06-03 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-03-06 06:55:54 UTC

Foreword

Census

The 24th Pegasus

Foreword

Thousands of years ago, a vast and sprawling pegasus empire existed on the other side of the Celestial Sea, wholly separate from unicorn and earth pony cultures, and indeed preceding the story of the Hearth’s Warming tribes that every Equestrian is familiar with. Archaeological finds dotting the landscape of what is now modern day Grivridge and Zebrica allude to the strength and size of this pegasus nation, known in records as the Cirran Empire, at the height of its power; indeed, artifacts are often recovered in the western half of Dioda on an almost daily basis, and examples of Cirran architecture can be found as far east as the Great Canyon of Grivridge’s capital. For remains of Cirran culture to be so prevalent and widespread, one must assume that the Cirran Empire housed, at its peak, millions of pegasi, and understand from oral tradition that it at one point subjugated the entirety of the griffon race. Their fanatical militarism allowed them to conquer the land with incredible efficiency, and to this day, the discipline Cirra ingrained in its entire population lingers in the spirit of the pegasus race.

While Cirra did fall nearly two thousand years ago, the lasting impact of the empire can still be seen and felt, from the old buildings of Cloudsdale, originally a Cirran city, to the structure and form of Equestria’s career army. Yet despite this, original records from the time are difficult to come by, as most were destroyed when the empire collapsed to revolting griffon armies. Almost all knowledge on the empire today comes from the detailed journal that Commander Hurricane kept during the Red Cloud War, which saw the destruction of his empire and home. Apart from this small window into the death throes of an empire, we do not have a clear picture of what exactly life was like in Dioda during the golden age of Cirran culture. Many digs around what archaeologists assume to be the ruins of Cirra’s capital city have been fruitless, and many relics from that time period were purged by the griffon emperor, Magnus, roughly 1500 years ago.

However, that is not to say that records have not been found. Included with this report is a translated copy of the personal diary of a Cirran censor, describing his travels across the Cirran Empire while conducting an imperial census in 380 After Empire (roughly 737 Age of Tribes on the Equestrian Calendar), twenty years before the empire collapsed in 401 AE. The census was very important to the organization of the empire, as it was used for determining the social hierarchy and voting rights based on the wealth of each citizen. It also determined who could be conscripted into armies levied for war, and gave the emperor a realistic estimate of the resources at his disposal. As such, the censor, the pegasus who conducted the quinquennial survey, was expected to travel across the empire’s holdings for record-collecting purposes. Many censors took advantage of the census to go on a government-funded vacation tour of the land, and sometimes this could result in delays in conducting the census lasting upwards of a full year. The personal records of censors are thus incredibly enlightening and important for understanding Cirran culture in its prime. The journal translated from this censor represents the most complete records of Cirra and pre-Equestrian Dioda. As such, I have full faith that they can contribute to what we know about pegasus history, and maybe even rewrite what we thought we knew. After all, history is merely many eyes looking at the same thing.

~Twilight Sparkle

Prologue

Translation by T. Sparkle
Dated 8th High Sun 380 AE (Translator’s Note: 8th June 737 AoT)

I shall waste little time in beginning this log. My name is Aureus Primus [1], appointed by our princeps [2] Augustus Haysar to conduct the 76th census of the Cirran Empire. It is an honor to be awarded the title of censor, and it is an office that I plan to command with the respect and imperium it demands. The Emperor’s will be done.

[1]: There were two common naming schemes in Cirra at the time: those who used ‘Old Cirran’ like Aureus, and those who used the language we’re all more familiar with today. Traditionally, only patrician and optimates families used the Old Cirran language in naming their children, while the plebeian and populares classes used more common language and words. Aureus came from an old patrician family, and that is evident in the names of his family members later in this text.

[2]: The official title of the Cirran emperor was ‘princeps’, which roughly translates to ‘leader’ and is the origin of our words prince/princess. Despite this, everypony called him emperor, and referred to him only by princeps in official records.

With the conclusion of the High Noon War not even seven months prior, our great empire has finally achieved dominion over the entirety of the known world. After four years of fighting, our mighty legions crushed the barbaric hordes of the scattered Gryphon tribes, who banded together in one desperate confederation bent on trampling civilization underhoof. In what will surely be remembered as the Empire’s finest hour, the stallions and mares of the Legion fought tooth and nail, sword and shield, to stop the griffon onslaught at the gates of Nimbus, denying the monsters even a taste of victory at the Shield [3]. Now that the war has ended, and the rest of their lands have been placed under the just stewardship of the Emperor, it is time to conduct a census so that Emperor Haysar may accurately estimate the sum of our population and wealth, and organize affairs for the years to come.

[3]: Nimbus was often referred to as the ‘Spiked Shield’ of Cirra for the number of times it repelled griffon armies over the centuries, inflicting horrendous casualties on the attackers as it did so.

To this end, I was appointed from the Senate to conduct the census. As soon as I filled my position in office at the beginning of the year, I dispatched letters to the far corners of our empire, ensuring that every male adult, both griffon and pegasus, registered their names, members of their household, and property wealth with the officials I sent to the towns and cities across the continent. Now that these officials have had time to conduct their duty, it is now my duty to meet with them personally and ensure the transfer of articles is performed safely and securely. These records I am collecting are the sum total of the wealth of our entire empire; it is thusly important that they reach their destination safe and sound, carried in on the wings of the one appointed by our emperor himself. The gods only know what would befall Cirra were they to fall into the wrong talons, as it were.

I expect my travels to take the better part of the summer, as the world is large, and although I will be accompanied by lictors [4], it is dangerous as well. I am also bringing my family along, as since I will not be home for several months, there will be nopony to provide for them in my absence. It is my hope that the experience will prove enlightening to my two sons as they grow into the world around them. The Senate will need more bright minds in the years to come.

[4]: A lictor was an appointed bodyguard tasked with protecting officials with imperium. While the emperor did not have traditional lictors, as he was protected by members of the Praetorian Guard instead, lesser officials such as the quaestor and praetor were awarded varying numbers based on their station. While a praetor was followed by 6 lictors, a legatus, 5, etc, the office of the censor was an important yet temporary office. Censors were given 8 lictors for the length of their term, usually only one year.

I plan to begin my journey tomorrow, starting with our capital, and making my way north and eastward until reaching the griffon lands. From there, I will journey to the south and the west, completing my loop of the countryside, where I will return to Stratopolis and deliver my report. I shall be keeping a personal journal of the journey as well as making note of anything that I need to discuss with the Emperor upon my return.

I pray to Garuda that I may conduct my service to the empire swiftly and without harm, and that he keep my family safe in our travels.

Ante Legionem nihil erat, et nihil erit post Legionem [5].

Censor Aureus Primus

[5]: This was a common mantra of the Cirran Empire, translated as “Before the Legion there was nothing, and after the Legion there will be nothing.” Due to the historical significance of this mantra, it has been preserved in its original Cirran for this text.

Stratopolis

Stratopolis
8th High Sun 380 AE

To say that our capital, Stratopolis, is a city like no other is an understatement. There has never been anything like it in the history of the world, and there will never be anything like it for eons to come. Here, the heart of the world beats, sending messengers to its holdings and receiving goods in return like the blood of the nation. Stratopolis keeps the world alive, and without it, Dioda would fragment into thousands of tiny, pitiful pieces, each claiming a shred of the glory it manifests and commands over the land.

Stratopolis predates the Empire itself, although you would be hard pressed to find many of the original buildings. Centuries ago, it was a much smaller city, and represented the entire community of the Cirran tribe, for in those days Cirra was not one great nation but a small confederacy of warriors and neighboring tribes banded together for the common good. After the Unification Wars were won by Roamulus, he turned the city of his people into the capital of his empire. Thousands of griffon slaves, freshly conquered in the war against Warlord Haldber, gave their blood and bodies to building the shining gem of pegasus unity.

Stratopolis has grown much since those early days. In the 380 years since the end of the Unification Wars, the city has grown into twelve major districts, all connected at the very heart of the city, an enormous flat forum known as the Plaza of the Emperor. This is where life thrives in this magnificent city. On any given day, you can find hundreds of market stalls selling every good imaginable from the farthest reaches of our empire. Mares can burn through hundreds of bits in a single day (and as a married stallion I should know) and foals can purchase whatever sweets their hearts desire. If it weren’t for law decreeing that business cannot be conducted in the Plaza from dusk to dawn, I have no doubt that the marketplace would remain open all day and night, never sleeping, never resting.

From the Plaza, twelve roads radiate outward from the massive statue of Roamulus in the center. Each of these roads will take you to a different part of the town that feels just as alien from their neighbors as our civilization is from the griffon barbarism. There are craft districts and baking districts; military quarters and restaurants. There is even a district dedicated to the expression of the arts, from fine paintings to sculptures to mosaics and pottery. Imagine, an entire section of a city dedicated to art and culture. Many pegasi may claim that their home cities are the best in the Empire, but none can stand above the splendid decadence of Stratopolis. Only in the greatest city in the sky can you find such grandeur.

I could go into detail about all of the districts of Stratopolis, as I have become intimately familiar with each of them in the forty years I’ve lived here, including the days of my youth, when the walls of the city were the borders of my world, but for the sake of time, as well as my inkwell, I shall refrain from doing so. I might have earlier, but after receiving the census ledger for the city just this morning, I am pleased and somewhat shocked to learn that our great city holds over one million pegasi [1]. Our closest rival, the great merchant city of Nyx to the east, can boast only 431,000 as of the census data from five years ago. Even further behind them would be the warrior city of Nimbus, at 267,000 pegasi. Indeed, the population of Stratopolis now equals the collective sum of the next four most populous pegasus cities on the continent, truly outshining them in every way imaginable.

[1]: If surviving records from the unicorns and earth ponies from this time are to be believed, then Stratopolis was the first pony city to reach one million inhabitants.

But there are certain sights and wonders in the city that I feel are worth covering in my personal logs, the most important of which is the palatial district, home to our beloved emperor, Augustus Haysar [2]. From his lofty perch at the highest point of the city, the Emperor imparts his wisdom and divine mandate on his domain, rebuilding Cirra after the ravages of the war still fresh in all our minds. The palatial district holds his palace in the center, with the Senate House a short ways down the hill and closer to the city, so that the Emperor may always be looking upon them as they conduct their business with his blessing. Behind this palace there is a massive garden, which Haysar is fond of taking flights through, and further beyond that are the barracks of the Praetorian Guard. The most elite of the elite, every member of the Guard has been a legate at some point in their lives, and now they serve as the Emperor’s bodyguards and his chief military advisors. There are only one hundred ‘true’ Praetorians in the Guard, but their numbers are bolstered with veterans from legions that have served with distinction in the past. Altogether, they are tasked with keeping the Emperor safe and the Palatine Cloud secure.

[2]: Augustus Haysar was the 23rd emperor of the Cirran Empire, followed by Commander Hurricane as the 24th and final emperor. Officially, his full name was ‘Imperator Haysar Divi Filius Augustus’, translated as ‘Emperor Augustus Haysar, Son of the Gods’. Cirran emperors weren’t lacking in the humility department, that’s for sure.

The palace itself is a magnificent construction of marble. Built on a foundation of cloudstone compressed so solidly that it can support rock, the palace was built during the rule of Mareius in 104 AE using griffon slaves. Enormous flocks of griffons would be chained to blocks of marble and forced to fly them up to the foundations, where the palace was assembled piecemeal, section by section, stone by stone. The palace itself took three years to complete, and was added to continuously over the next century, until it was completed to its present state by Emperor Grassus in 229 AE, funded mostly out of his own pockets [3]. The palace grounds itself cover twenty-five acres, and it is open to the public on most days. Within are numerous statues, sculptures, and other works of art curated by the emperors over the years. If you can handle the numerous soldiers of the Praetorian Guard staring at you from every doorway and every corner within the palace halls, it is a site I would recommend visiting.

[3]: Emperor Marecus Licinius Grassus is widely considered to be the richest pony to have ever lived, putting even the vast wealth of the old unicorn families to shame. His personal fortune was valued at 2 trillion bits in today’s money, equal to the entire annual budget of Cirra, and most of it was acquired through shady means.

Sitting on the slope of the cloud below the palace, as I mentioned before, is the Senate House. Here, the 500 members of the Senate meet daily to discuss the matters brought forth to them by Augustus Haysar. It is the lifeblood of political discourse, and pegasi from all across the empire fly here to let their voices be heard by the governing elite of Cirra. The Senate is the most powerful political body in Cirra apart from the Emperor himself, and their word is law. Together with the Tribune of the Plebs, they write the laws and ensure they are enforced across the Empire [4].

[4]: By this point, the influence of the Tribune of the Plebs had severely declined to where they were more of a puppet position under the emperor’s control than an actual figure looking out for the plebeian class of Cirra. Many similar things can be said about the Senate as well, as they served only to rubber stamp the emperor’s agenda, but patricians such as Aureus would never admit that.

Perhaps of equal importance to the pegasi that live within the city is the great cloudosseum positioned at the opposite axis of the Emperor’s palace. Here, the massive cloudstone structure towers over its surroundings, and several times a month, you will hear loud cheering and roaring from the crowd as they watch the fights. The cloudosseum can fit 80,000 pegasi at once, and it is routinely filled to capacity, with many more spectators watching from makeshift cloud benches up high. Here, you will see all sorts of spectacular fights, from wild beasts captured from the empire’s vast borders, to thrilling gladiatorial combat. Griffons are common in the gladiator fights, but I once bore witness to a Stripe [5] from the south that fought for our entertainment. You never know what you might see when you go to the cloudosseum.

[5]: It seems from Aureus’ logs that the pegasi of Cirra were aware of the zebra islands off their southern coast, though there is almost no record of their culture or even Cirran interactions with the zebras from this time. It would seem that with a larger and wealthier threat on their eastern borders in the griffons, the pegasi routinely overlooked an indigenous civilization on poor tropical islands at the farthest reaches of their borders.

Stratopolis is also home to a curious military tradition. For as long as it has existed, armies are not permitted within its walls, apart from the First Legion. The First Legion traces its roots back to the army under Roamulus’ command during the Unification Wars, and because of this they are the only legion that is permitted within the walls of Stratopolis year-round. This was a safety measure implemented by the Senate shortly after Roamulus’ reign, as during the middle of the 1st century, the legions of Cirra fought for whoever paid them the most, and money was always changing hooves. By 62 AE, the city was so ravaged from the constant warfare that the Senate decreed that no soldiers could be stationed within the walls of Stratopolis apart from the traditional garrison of the First Legion. Since the First Legion was paid directly from the state treasury, this ensured that only loyal soldiers were inside the city, and could easily respond with strong defensive positions against a bought off legion stationed outside of the walls. This law has held to today with provisions to except it in times of crisis, but thankfully, no additional legions have ever had to be stationed within Stratopolis’ walls. The only time other legions are allowed to enter Stratopolis is for Triumphs. The last one of these was held at the conclusion of the High Noon War, and all of the victorious armies were allowed to parade through the streets before being forced to leave the city.

Once you leave the city itself, you find yourself flying high above fertile and beautiful countryside. Stratopolis itself is placed above Lake Trasimare, which reflects the magnificent flying city on its mirror-like surface on a calm day. On the far eastern shores of this lake lies a major encampment, which by itself is responsible for raising and training the legions needed for the year’s campaigns. Indeed, the camp has the facilities to train four legions simultaneously, and can have them sent to the front in as little as two months if necessary [6].

[6]: The Cirran Legion emphasized discipline and a rigid chain of command above all else. They did not employ drill instructors like our modern day armies, but instead brought in excess officers from the front who lost units due to battle and consolidation, and gave them new units to train and lead. In this way, fresh ‘greenwings’ would feel comfortable fighting under a pony they were familiar with as opposed to a stranger they were assigned to in the chaos at the front.

Built around the camp are numerous smaller villas and towns dedicated to supporting all of Stratopolis’ vast material needs. The rolling plains are covered in farmland in every direction, almost all the way up to the sea to the west, and disappearing into the forests in the south and the mountains in the north. Far to the east, nothing but hills and splotches of forest decorates the landscape until those too give way to more mountains in the heartland of the continent. From the vantage point Stratopolis commands in the sky, you can see the entirety of the Cirran heartland spread out for miles and miles below you, and know that there has never been a greater city in the sky.

Ringing Stratopolis itself on massive and decorative cloudstone foundations are the temples to the gods of our pantheon. The three most important temples, those of Mobius, Garuda, and Ofnir, stand side by side, or at least next to each other in the ring; each of these temples is massive, eclipsed only by the palace of the Emperor himself. Inside, statues of the gods stand within marble halls and chiseled columns, where they are meticulously looked after by the priests of Stratopolis. The doors are never closed to visitors, and in the case of Garuda himself, this was taken quite literally until very recently.

Each temple serves a function in addition to being a place of worship. The temple of Mobius, God of Mercy and Lord of Justice, houses Cirra’s highest court, run by the Praetor Urbanus. The temple of Ofnir, God of War and Lord of Conquest, is where legates returning from war go to offer tribute to their good fortunes or atone for their failures. The Goddess of the Sun and Lady of Love, Celeste, houses grand weddings between patrician families within her house. Her sister, Lūn, Goddess of the Night and Lady of Secrets, houses the wretched, the sinful, those who wish to repent for their mistakes. Grabacr, Galm, and Strigon all have their temples as well, but they are seldom used as often as the others. But, perhaps more importantly due to the magnanimity of recent events, is the temple of Garuda.

The temple of Garuda, God of Honor and Lord of the Afterlife, is a three-sided building oriented so it points away from the city, with massive oak doors inlaid with gold leaf facing it. Columns nearly a hundred feet tall support the roof, which raises to the Great Skies like a spire, directing the souls of all the pegasi who have died and were deemed worthy to their reward high above. Inside stand many statues to Garuda, and there the temple houses elaborate catacombs beneath its floors. It is a great honor to be buried in Garuda’s home, an honor that is only open to the emperor and members of his family. But in addition to serving as an elaborate and beautiful mausoleum, the doors of the temple serve a very important function. Whenever Cirra is at war, the doors are open, so that the souls of legionaries who have fallen in battle may find their way to Garuda and be swiftly sent off to the Great Skies for their service to the Empire. The doors to Garuda’s temple have been open for 329 years, since the first great war against Gryphus the pegasi partook in as the unified nation of Cirra in 51 AE. Since that day, the emperors have left the doors to the temple of Garuda open, for so long as Gryphus remained a threat to our nation, our mares and stallions would continue to give their lives in defense of it. The doors had been kept open for so long that nopony knew whether the hinges had rusted open or not.

Four months ago, I am proud to say that I witnessed Emperor Augustus Haysar close those doors for the first time in three centuries.

With Gryphus finally subsumed into the greater Cirran Empire, and the threat of griffon assaults on our way of life forever crushed underhoof, Emperor Augustus decreed that the doors to the temple of Garuda would finally be shut [7]. After more than three centuries of armed conflict with our barbaric neighbors, Dioda will finally know peace eternal. Pegasi will no longer have to die by the thousands to protect our way of life, and it is time to finally let Garuda rest, for he has guided so many to the Great Skies since those doors were opened. Now, all that remains is to take stock of what all those lives have bought us over the years.

[7] Emperor Augustus succeeded his uncle, Emperor Julius Haysar, with about a year left in the war, as the previous Haysar died on the field of battle while leading an assault on the griffon capital city of Angenholt. While the assault was unsuccessful, it opened the door for stronger military action by Cirra, and ultimately resulted in the unconditional surrender of griffon forces. Julius Haysar was incredibly popular with the population of Cirra, and so closing the doors of the temple of Garuda was likely a huge PR opportunity that Augustus capitalized upon to solidify his rule as the new emperor of Cirra.

After having the census records of the city delivered to my office, where I signed and sealed them and had them stored until all of the records were ready to present to the Emperor, I gathered up my family and our belongings and loaded them into a sky chariot that would be flown to our next destination, Pileus in the north. My wife, Electri, and our two sons, Iustitia and Solidus, boarded the carriage around noon, and with half of our lictors pulling and the other half following in formation, we set off to the north, where the mountainous city of Pileus awaited us.

Pileus

22ndHigh Sun, 380 AE

Several hundred miles to the north of Stratopolis soars the city of Pileus. An ancient cloud city almost as old as the capital itself, Pileus was formed during the reorganization of pegasus tribes under Roamulus’ rule in the early years of his reign. Although not a spectacularly large city, as the census data I collected here shows there are only 114,000 pegasi and 20,000 griffon slaves, Pileus is one of the more famous cities due to its unique geography. Unlike most Cirran sky cities, which float over plains or lakes, Pileus is concealed within the Stormspike Mountains, where the precipitation and perpetual cloud cover hide it from you until you almost fly directly into it.

The mountains are a harsh place to live. Their jagged teeth continually deflect gusts and turbulence into the skies, making it very difficult to try to fly over their peaks. To navigate, you have to fly low, in the valleys between the mountains, but the air here is cold and damp, even in the summer. Apart from a few hours both before and after noon, the valleys are filled with fog and mist, limiting your sight to only thirty or forty yards. In the winter, howling blizzards of snow and ice make it impossible for all but the strongest of fliers to stay aloft. An inexperienced or unfamiliar flier could easily become lost in the valleys, if they didn’t dash themselves to pieces against a mountainside. Thankfully, one of my lictors was a Pileus native, and he knew the entire mountain range by heart.

Like their city, the Pileans are a curious people, quiet and mysterious, almost brooding. They consider themselves a pegasus subspecies, equipped with superior eyesight and quieter flight than us, in addition to a few smaller differences. Unlike most of us, they’ve developed extra feathers along their wing crests that muffle the noise of their wings, and their eyes can find prey through the thick cloud cover of the valleys [1]. They use this to their advantage when hunting goats on the mountainside or preparing ambushes. I was startled to see when the chariot landed in Pileus an entire century of Snow Warriors following us. I never once heard their wings in the several hours it took us to make the last leg of our journey. Only my lictor knew we were being followed, and he told me he didn’t want to say anything to ‘ruin the surprise.’

[1]: Although not as common today as they were back then, around 2% of the modern pegasus population carry specialized flight feathers as holdovers from the genetic pool of Pileus. The edges of the feathers lining their wings are serrated to reduce turbulence and thus silence their flight, like owls. Unfortunately, also like owls, this makes them fairly vulnerable to wet weather, and pegasi with these feathers have difficulty flying in heavy storms, unlike their common counterparts, whose feathers are naturally waterproof. It is interesting to note that these ‘Snow Warriors’ preferred to fight in inclement weather despite this handicap, where they could easily ambush their enemies and not be impaired by the resulting sluggishness of their flight.

The Snow Warriors have lived and fought in these mountains for centuries, and Roamulus described them as some of the fiercest pegasi he’d ever fought, even when compared to foes such as the legendary Nimbans and the fire-wielding Sages of Nyx. They wear leather armor painted entirely white to blend in with the clouds, fog, and mists that clog the valley. Hunting in small groups of eight, they watch from nearly invisible outposts stationed in the clouds and through the valley, looking for signs of intruders. When danger is spotted, they silently take flight and follow, and begin eliminating threats under the cover of darkness and thick fog. In his memoirs, Roamulus described how he lost an entire maniple to Snow Warrior action in a single day without anypony the wiser. Only when he took a head count after they had made camp in the valley did he realize that something was wrong. The following morning, he was able to force a conventional fight by organizing his legions and using their collective wingpower to clear the valleys of the fog, and without their camouflage, he was able to decisively rout the Pileans. Despite their ferocity, Pileans are better skirmishers than they are soldiers, and thus the region is known to produce some of the finest scouts Cirra has to offer.

The city of Pileus itself is notable for two things. The first is that the city is low flying by most standards. Nestled into a deep ravine between the mountains, Pileus is very low to the ground to prevent the ravaging gusts and winds blowing off the mountains from ripping it to pieces. It also helps the Pileans reach their city from the valley when it’s raining, as unlike most of us, they have exceptional difficulty flying in wet weather, so a tall, soaring city would be difficult to navigate or even reach safely in the event of a storm. As a result, the city has grown outwards and downwards as opposed to upwards like most pegasus cities such as Stratopolis, Nimbus, and Nyx do. The city is so low that they even have grand stairways that reach the ground, built out of flexible cloudstone to allow the city to bob and move without breaking them.

The second thing, and perhaps the one most ponies will care more about, is the Pilean vineyards. It seems strange to think about; the best vineyards in Cirra outside of Pileus are all built near the south coast, where the air is dry and warm. Here in Pileus, the air is cold and wet. Despite this, however, Pilean wines are considered some of the best in the land, and many senators and officials (myself included) pay a considerable fortune to have casks shipped to their sunny villas in the south. So why the seeming contradiction in climate and quality?

The answer is Pilean iceberries. Iceberries are small, purple fruit that are about a feather’s width across. They’re perfectly round, although they appear wrinkled in warm weather. This allows them to expand and not rupture when they freeze in the regular freezing temperatures common in the high mountains, especially at night, and especially in the winter. The Pileans culture these berries year round, and they make up a considerable part of their diet, as not many plants to even graze on grow in the mountains, and meat is scarce in the winter. They also use these to make their wine, in an elaborate process I was fortunate enough to witness firsthoof:

The berries are harvested early in the morning, when the sun has not yet risen to warm the land, and the cold mists cling to your coat and soak you to the bone within minutes. They’re placed in buckets of snow and ice, which the Pileans collect from the tallest mountains around their city, and taken back to the wineries. From here, the iceberries are destemmed and placed into a barrel full of ice and trampled underhoof to extract the juice and pulp, much like in traditional vinification. Yeast is added, along with some herbs collected from the valley; when I pressed them for their recipes, they refused to tell me, saying only that it was a Pilean secret. Once this is completed, the barrels are filled to the brim with ice, sealed with wax, and buried underground, where they are allowed to ferment for upwards of a decade. When this is done, the barrels are removed and shipped off to wherever they were ordered, usually the villa of a senator or a noble [2]. My wife and I spent an entire day at the winery, tasting all the wines and their subtle variations. Thankfully, since I was conducting the census, we were able to sample for free in exchange for promises of a tax exemption for the owner during the coming harvest season.

[2]: Shortly after translating this segment of Aureus’ journal, I attempted to recreate Pilean ice wine using the recipe within. I had to guess at the herbs used; I used sage, parsley, and mint for mine, as they are native to the area, but so far there are no surviving records on which to use, and in what quantities. I attempted to ferment the mix with my magic, as I didn’t have a decade to wait, and tried some on ice as the name ‘ice wine’ would imply. The brew was a bit thin, likely due to the melted ice that watered down the wine, but sweet and very refreshing. It is also much stronger than I anticipated, as I’m somewhat ashamed to admit from personal experience.

The city of Pileus itself is shaped like a cross, with its long axis aligned with the valley and its short axis nearly touching the rocky slopes. The points of each of these city arms are capped with sprawling fortifications and garrisoned with Snow Warriors, the idea being that the four hard points of defense in the city could support their two adjacent neighbors if one was under siege, and the wide, open space between them allows for javelins, arrows, and ballista fire to be exchanged to repel an assaulting army off of the walls of another fort. Between the forts and the rest of the city lies a stretch of barren cloud that allows the garrisons of the forts to march out and engage the enemy before they reach the interior of the city and exposes an attacking army to withering missile attack from their surroundings. All this to give an already tough nut to crack an additional layer of armor [3].

[3]: It is interesting to see how much emphasis the Cirrans put on the defensive measures to protect their cities. Walls and embattlements ringed their airborne homes, even though they could be circumvented if the city was attacked from above or below. Military historians hypothesize that the walls and forts served as defensive bastions from which the defenders of the city could organize to launch counterattacks and repulse invaders. Therefore, to conquer a city, an invading force had to subdue the hard fortifications scattered throughout it, or risk being outflanked and counterattacked by the garrisons of these fortifications, as simply sieging them inside would be ineffective for the same reason that the city’s walls were not designed to keep invading armies out.

At the intersection of the two axes of the city stands a magnificent castle. Reinforced with cloudstone and shrouded in chilly mountain vapor, the castle occupies a commanding view of the city. It was in this building that the grand kings of Pileus once resided, and nowadays, it holds the provincial governor, as it has ever since Roamulus abolished the kings of the tribes and declared himself emperor. I was fortunate enough that the governor of this region, an elder statesman by the name of Alabaster White, gave me and my family a personal tour of the interior, followed by an excellent feast and, of course, more ice wine.

Snow Peak, as the castle is called, is nowhere near as ornate as the Emperor’s palace in Stratopolis, nor anywhere near as well fortified as the grand palace of Nimbus, but it has a might all its own. Rather than trying to keep invaders out, it was designed to kill them as fast as possible. All large chambers have two doorways attackers must go through before getting to the next hall. These short killing zones are filled with murder slits and trap doors, where the defenders can pour boiling oil or hurl rocks and javelins at the attackers as they attempt to break through the next door. All of the doors can be closed from the floor above, so that the Pileans can cordon off small groups of invaders for their defense forces to kill more easily. In addition to that, I passed by several scorpio artillery pieces placed at the ends of long halls, with torsion springs tuned to the cold weather of the city. Any besieging force would think twice about charging down those halls; a scorpion can fling a bolt with such force and precision that it can pierce a griffon’s shield at 100 yards and easily kill the barbarian behind it.

Later, we took the time to go sightseeing in the city itself, although we retreated as soon as the sun disappeared behind the mountains; you could feel the temperature drop almost immediately, and it sent a chill through my bones. I was reaching for my overcoat before long, earning laughter from the native Pileans around me. If they were bothered by the cold, they never showed it, for not a single one of them was wearing anything of any substantial warmth. If this was summer, I dreaded to see what winter was like.

While I was there, I was able to witness a curious ritual one Sunday morning. My wife and I were awoken before the break of dawn by the tolling of bells. At first we thought it was just to signal the time, but we soon realized that this was no ordinary event, for the bells all over the city were ringing incessantly. We soon moved to the balcony, wrapped tightly in our evening robes to fend off the cold, as we sought the reasoning behind the cacophony. Our eyes witnessed a sight like no other: pegasi all across the city perched on rooftops, in towers, or on low flying clouds, all facing east. Their still silhouettes against the gray sky made them seem like statues, memories of the past carved into the very rooftops from which they perched. They remained like this, motionless, for an hour, until finally through the parting clouds and fog to the east, the sun began to rise. At this point, a low chorus arose from the pegasi gathered. This was no tavern song or battle march; this was a hymn, something sung with reverence and worship. I could not make out the words, but they sounded like a hybrid of Old Cirran and some other language. It continued until the sun had finally revealed itself in its entirety above the mountains, and which point the pegasi bowed low and began to disperse. When I asked my lictor about it, he said that it marked the annual celebration of Celeste’s arrival in Pileus millennia ago [4]. Checking the date, I realized it aligned with the summer solstice, though that did little to clarify the story. I suppose some superstitions are localized, especially when one lives in a land this cut off from the rest of civilization.

[4]: Having had the opportunity to interview Princess Celestia herself, this religious practice likely arose from when she and Princess Luna visited Dioda roughly four thousand years ago to try to convince the pegasi to fly across the ocean to where the earth ponies and unicorns lived. From their accounts and the historical evidence we have, we know that while they were treated and received as goddesses, which likely explains their place in the Cirran pantheon, their words were not heeded, as the pegasi swiftly became embroiled in wars with their neighbors over who the gods favored more than the others. Still, Celestia told me that Pileus was one of the first places she and her sister landed after crossing the ocean, so the sudden appearance of two alicorns must have seemed to the local Pilean population like the coming of the gods.

With the census records collected and safely sealed, we moved to depart Pileus while the weather was clear; the turbulence on the flight in had my wife feeling ill, and I did not want to make her suffer on the way out. On the way out, I purchased a cask of ice wine for the road, and had four more delivered to my villa back in Stratopolis. The boys were allowed to try some, but only a little bit; as I expected, they weren’t too fond of the taste yet. But they are young; with age comes wisdom, and with wisdom comes an excellent taste in wine.

I expect to spend the next few weeks along the northern coast, seeing the famous twin tribes of Tonitri and Fulgur, before continuing onwards to the legendary city of Nimbus. From there, we begin the crossing into griffon territory to survey the Emperor’s new holdings for the first time.

Tonitri e Fulgur

5th Amber Skies, 380 AE

We left the mountains of Pileus behind and embarked on a northeasterly course for the next few days. Upon reaching the Pon river, which flows northward from the mountains to the coast, we followed this natural road for quite some time. Gradually, the further we flew from the mountains, the warmer the weather became, until once more we found ourselves in comfortable air and bright sun; a welcome change from the cold dreariness of Pileus.

The northern coast of Dioda is comprised mostly of small fishing villages clustered around natural wells and springs that bring fresh water to their towns. Unlike cloud cities, most small villages in Cirra are built as settlements on the ground, and these villages were no different. In fact, many seemed to have forsaken the ground entirely, building homes on large logs of timber that rose many tail lengths off of the sandy beaches upon which they perched. It would seem that in the centuries of fishing the rough waters of the north, the pegasi living here have adapted to the frequent and violent storm surges that can raise the tides by ten, fifteen, or even twenty feet with little more than a day’s notice.

The pegasi that fish these waters are a more crass and crude people, but not without honor or hospitality. It is simply their way to not mince words or trick their neighbors out of some small fortune. You will notice upon meeting one, should you ever be so fortunate or daring in your exploits of the world, that they move like the ocean swells and speak like waves breaking against the shore, with momentary outbursts of intensity followed by a quiet remission into introspective thought. Even their appearance is befitting of the sea; their coats and feathers are streaked a powdery white with the salt of the sea, and their manes and tails have been cut short, if not outright shaved, so as to make swimming easier. Even some of the mares have chosen to shave themselves, creating an interesting appearance of wild, almost animalistic energy and grace.

These thoughts I did not air with my wife, for reasons any married stallion would understand and appreciate. I did note, however, that my eldest, Iustitia, seemed particularly struck with a clam diver. She was a fine filly, strong of wing and slender of limb, who had chosen to shave her mane and tail like many of her neighbors. I regret that, in recounting this filly now days after I last bore witness to her, I have forgotten her name. At the very least, my love for my son was such that, at my wife’s encouragement, I tarried a day longer than I expected in that town, so that young Iustitia may have his fill of the pleasantries of courting fillies. Even still, she was a plebeian, and any serious tangible threads of romantic attraction would be beneath my son’s position [1]. It is perhaps for the best that Iustitia will soon forget about her in the rest of our travels.

[1]: While it seems arrogant and even appalling to us that Aureus would speak so dismissively of another pony as being beneath his son’s ambitions simply because of the station of her birth, intermarriage between the patricians and plebeians of Cirra was very frowned upon. In fact, marriage between the two classes used to be illegal, as prescribed in one of the Laws of the Seven Tables, Cirra’s original lexicon of laws, but this was overruled in 59 AE when some poor patrician families realized that there were some rich plebeian families they could marry into to reclaim some wealth for their name.

From these small fishing villages we finally entered once more a city proper. In the north, there stands a ravine which the Rubiton river flows through as it makes its way out of the heartland. Perched on opposite cliffs of this ravine are two large cities, those of Tonitri and Fulgur, or collectively referred to on maps as Tonitri e Fulgur. Commonly known as the twin tribes or Twin Cities, these two settlements have existed together as separate but nearly identical institutions in terms of practice, culture, and outlook for centuries. Indeed, even in the times of the pegasus tribes before Roamulus united us, the two cities served as two tribes bonded by blood, close allies that fought together as one.

Unlike most cities in Cirra, these cities are likewise built on the ground like the fishing villages around them. The bluffs which they occupy are covered in all manner of buildings, and yet while no two buildings may look alike, the architectural themes are shared between the Twin Cities. If you were to start in the center of each city and work your way outwards, you would see the same themes at around the same time, corresponding with identical shifts in style and preference as the cities grew [2]. It is a curious coincidence, although I find it unlikely to be unintentional.

[2]: I’ve deliberated upon several historical scenarios that could arise in the creation of these ‘Twin Cities’, and the description Aureus gives here lends credence to one I find to be the most likely. Griffons tended to build their cities on the ground instead of in the air like the pegasi, and Tonitri and Fulgur are close to culturally griffon lands. It is likely that at one point the two cities were a single entity ruled by a griffon warlord before they were conquered by pegasus soldiers from a neighboring tribe. Upon the capitulation of the settlement, the commanding officers of the pegasus forces might have split the city along the natural divider that the ravine provided, to make the distribution of loot and the management of the settlement easier by those who would come to inhabit it. However, this raises the uncomfortable question of what happened to the griffons that inhabited the area to warrant a city of such substantial size that it would necessitate splitting by the victorious pegasi; given the disdain that Cirran pegasi carried toward all griffons regardless of birth, it is easy to imagine what happened.

I personally find the history of the Twin Cities fascinating, so pardon my pursuit of this tangent.

Historically, Tonitri and Fulgur existed as two separate tribes with extremely close ties through blood. The tribes of Thunder and Lightning, the two strove to reach consensus in all of their decisions, and when one flew into battle, the other would follow. Perhaps the most interesting of historical anecdotes is how the tribes were ruled. While each tribe had its own monarch who attended to the matters of their own pegasi, the rulers of both tribes shared blood, and were very frequently siblings. Tonitri and Fulgur were also unique for their time as they let mares rule over their tribes, for while the rule of the tribes was generally constrained to the blood of a few royal families, the leadership of the tribes was appointed based off of merit, so long as the appointed leader shared blood with the other tribe [3]. In this way, Tonitri and Fulgur were able to withstand repeated assaults by their neighbors, the ferocious Nimbans, and even invasions by griffon warlords thanks to the strength and competency of their command.

[3]: Who was truly the first to initiate this practice is cause for some debate. We know from Commander Hurricane’s journals that the leadership of Nimbus in his time passed directly to the eldest child of House Rain, regardless of whether they were male or female, but whether this practice was conducted before or after Tonitri and Fulgur instituted it is unclear. Both parties claimed the practice as their idea, but only Nimbus was allowed to keep its ruling dynasty and general autonomy when the pegasus tribes were united.

Leaders were chosen to the twin tribes by form of a specialized enclave. If the monarch of one tribe were to perish, the elders and advisors of both tribes would meet in a specialized cloud forum placed above the Rubiton to facilitate such intertribal events. In most cases, the ruler of the surviving tribe would be brought forward, and they would be asked by their own tribe to recommend one of their kin to take the mantle of leadership of their sister tribe. Usually, this would be a sibling, if the tribe leader had any surviving, or if not, a parent or child fit enough to rule. Cousins were nominated as last resorts, as blood any more dilute than that was not close enough for either tribe’s liking. This candidate had to be approved by their own tribe, and if they were not, a replacement had to be proposed. In rare cases where the monarch simply ran out of close enough blood to provide candidates from, an entirely different system would supercede this one, but that is discussed later.

Once a pegasus of their kin was selected, the surviving monarch would present that member to the currently leaderless tribe for review. Here, the elders and the clanless were allowed to debate on the merit of the candidate brought before them; those of the royal clans were barred from the first round of discussions so as not to let their jealousy or ambition bias their own review of the new candidate. Only if the elders and clanless could not come to an agreement were the royal clans allowed to partake in the second round of discussion.

Depending on the strength of the candidate, discussions could conclude in as little as an hour or as long as several days of intense debate. However, once a choice was made, two things could happen. If the candidate was accepted, then both tribes would immediately begin preparations for the crowning of the new king or queen, in which the leader who nominated them would, after much festivity, take the crown of their twin tribe and place it upon their family member’s head, at which point the two tribes stood united and strong once more. Were the candidate to be rejected, however, then a dramatically different series of events would unfold.

While the initial debates of the leaderless tribe were conducted in private, were they to reject their candidate they would then call a hearing with their neighboring city and voice the reasons for their refusal. The elders and clanless of both cities would be able to debate with each other on the merit of the candidate, at which point the leaderless tribe could still be persuaded to back the pegasus put forward by the surviving leader. If no agreement could be reached, or if both tribes agree that the candidate put forward is not a suitable replacement, then the surviving monarch would be asked to put a different candidate forward. This would repeat for as many times as deemed necessary, or as possible, and it served as an excellent check against unmerited nepotism [4].

[4]: The distinction is obviously important here, considering that by the way the twin tribes ruled, they were in effect a nepocratic oligarchy. At least both tribes recognized the merit in having somepony qualified rather than just accepting appointments through blood, even if in the end they were still choosing from the same bloodlines.

In the case that the surviving monarch could not put forth suitable kin, or in the event that the leaders of both tribes had perished at the same time, then the assembled clans would begin the process for appointing two new rulers, both of whom were related by blood, and preferentially siblings. In the case of the loss of both tribe leaders, this was only natural, but it is interesting to note that they pursued this if the remaining ruler was still alive but also failed to produce a candidate to the tribes’ liking. If such was the case, the leader was removed from power and made an elder of his tribe, regardless of his age, as a reward for his service to the twin tribes in his time ruling one of them, but also as punishment, stripping him of his power before his death. Once this was done, if necessary, the royal clans from each tribe would present two siblings from their households as their candidates for the twin thrones, and again, the elders and clanless would deliberate and vote on each pairing. Interestingly, not all pairs were shown at once; there was some procedure about how the tribes determined which clans would get to present their candidates first, and in what order the remaining clans would follow, but with the practice discontinued for four centuries now, the records of this procedure are lost [5]. If the assembled enclave approved of the pairing brought to them, they would then cease seeking new rulers from the royal clans, and decide amongst themselves which sibling would rule which tribe. Even if both siblings spent more time living in Tonitri than Fulgur, or vice versa, this was irrelevant to the enclave; all the royal clans had bloodlines rooted in both cities, and it was not uncommon for family members, especially the young mares and stallions, to spend time living on both sides of the ravine. As such, who ultimately ruled which clan was a matter decided by necessity, compatibility, and public demand, and the siblings and their clan had little say in the matter. Once this was done, both siblings were crowned together, and would then separate to their respective new holdings, to rule as they were chosen to do so.

[5]: It is likely that this was done on some sort of rotation so that one royal clan wouldn’t always be seen as favored by the enclave in times when both leaders needed to be chosen. However, that is mere speculation, and it is unlikely that we will ever uncover texts detailing the process outside of Aureus’ words. Regardless, the system he describes here is surprisingly democratic for an age of kings and oligarchies, and wholly unique. There have been examples of “Twin Cities” elsewhere in history, but none with the same sort of co-dependence that Tonitri and Fulgur exhibited. It’s astonishing that one did not come to dominate the other and subsume it into a greater unified whole; at the time of Aureus’ writings, it seems quite clear that the two cities have remained separate but unified despite the passage of time since their last kings and queens.

The last king and queen of Tonitri and Fulgur were King Ictus and Queen Reverentia, respectively [6]. While they initially opposed Roamulus’ goals for the unity of all pegasus tribes under one banner, and indeed nearly ended it altogether when they decisively routed Roamulus at the battle of Canneigh in his campaign against them, the two ultimately realized that joining the coalition Roamulus had established between Cirra, Pileus, Procella, and many other smaller tribes was the only way they could guarantee safety from foreign aggression, both Nimban and griffon alike. In the end, the king and queen were allowed to remain as local governors and rulers of their cities, in effect maintaining much of their autonomy within the greater Cirran Empire, but losing their titles and many of the benefits they once enjoyed in exchange for the protection and services of the pegasus commonwealth.

[6]: Surprisingly, much information remains on King Ictus and Queen Reverentia, as it was carefully observed by their descendents as the last great monarchs of the twin tribes, and even managed to escape the destruction of the Cirran Empire by the griffons 400 years later. Born into the Incursio clan, the two were elected rulers of the twin tribes following the deaths of their predecessors in battle against Nimbus, when the Nimbans drove the twin tribes from the Brayccio region and claimed the lake for themselves, decapitating their leadership in the process. Ictus was described as an impassioned and impulsive stallion, while Reverentia was renowned for her beauty. Apparently that beauty even struck close to home; rumors abound of the number of foals the queen bore that looked remarkedly like her brother, and the two were inseparable, even by the standards of the Twin Cities.

But such times are long behind us. Nowadays, the Twin Cities perform an important function as grand fisheries and maintain a modest navy, inasmuch as a species that moves our armies by wing with no enemies across vast oceans has need of one. The fisheries of Tonitri and Fulgur collect the daily harvest of the sea that the numerous fishing settlements along the north coast bring forth and store it for distribution across the Empire. To preserve the fish and the bounty of the sea, the cities employ thousands of griffon slaves in the huge salt mines beneath their lands, which produce the sheer majority of the Empire’s salt. I learned during my visit to these cities that these are the only slaves that the cities employ for their public services; even in servitude, griffons are not welcome here, with only Nimbus being more openly hostile to our barbaric neighbors than they. It would seem that the only reason Tonitri and Fulgur employ slaves in their salt mines is due to a simple concern for placing equine workers in close proximity to what are essentially enormous salt licks. I will confess that I can understand the reasoning behind this; to work in the mines all day, surrounded by salt on all sides, would simply drive any pegasus to madness. Griffons do not share our fondness for salt, so it would only make sense to employ them in the mining and extraction of the mineral.

As I mentioned, however, griffons only make up a small part of the cities’ populations. Tonitri and Fulgur have populations of 57,000 and 52,000, respectively, for a total of 109,000 inhabitants living in the cities and surrounding countryside and shoreline. Less than five thousand griffon slaves live in the cities, and of these, two thousand are dedicated to the salt mines. The remainder are simply the personal charges of the wealthy nobiles who have come to call the city and the surrounding riverlands their home. In addition to these inhabitants, there are countless other migratory pegasi that flock to these northern waters around this time of year, namely the Gulls.

Much like the Pileans have noticeable natural differences between us and them, there’s a substantial flock of pegasi known as the Gulls that are curious in their own way. Though there is no true Gull city, or any Gull culture or history, the majority of their population lives in the Twin Cities and along the coast, as these pegasi have a much greater love of the sea than the rest of us do, and Tonitri and Fulgur are the closest major cities to the shore in the north. They are migratory pegasi, moving between the many coasts of Dioda as the seasons demand, and they spend much of their time hunting for fish, and I do mean that as I have written it instead of a poorly chosen alternate for fishing; the Gulls are known to spend entire days over the water, scanning for schools beneath the blue waves below them. When they find one, they abruptly dive into the water, landing with a wet splash and, if they are lucky, emerging with a fish pierced on the end of a wooden stake they carry with them into the water. Though they mostly patrol the coastal waters, the braver bands of Gulls like to scour the deep oceans, sometimes flying so far out over the sea that they disappear on the horizon. There, they prey on the larger fish, such as tuna and swordfish, and return at the end of the day with impressive hauls. While much of our fish is supplied by conventional fisherstallions using boats and nets, the Gulls are responsible for the majority of the larger fish brought to the market. They are more at home over the sea than over the ground, and their skills are quite respected by their neighbors, even if they might appear different from the rest of us [7].

[7]: Aureus doesn’t mention their specific differences here, but the Gulls were pegasi that were specially adapted to long flights over the sea. They tend to be larger than the average pegasus with very long, thin, and pointed wings to maximize their ability to glide for minimal energy at the cost of speed and agility. They were also remarkably waterproof, braving even the saltiest of waters without problem, in stark contrast to the Pileans. Pegasi today that have Gull blood in them are easily identified even when standing on the ground, as the tips of their wings will poke out above or behind their flanks instead of just touching their cutie marks like the common pegasus, and their flight feathers tend to be a different color than the rest of their wings and coat. They make up roughly 7% of our modern population.

The sibling nature of the Twin Cities extends to their laws as well. Laws passed in one city are passed in the other, after extensive review from the local governments of both, and both cities persecute criminals equally and fairly. This is made easier because pegasi born in one city are automatically recognized as citizens in the other, so they are subject to the laws and customs of both. This carries advantages for the average citizen as well, as they can very easily move between cities as they wish, own homes or businesses in one city and live in another, etc. Most families have members living in both cities, with roots running deep back into the time when both cities were there own tribes. It’s truly an interesting society to experience, and an amazing community that the cities have fostered over their history.

While my family stayed in the Twin Cities for me to gather my census data, we were housed in alternately the governors’ palaces in each city. Admittedly, while both palaces were grand, they had a decidedly similar layout, to the point where I did not need to ask for directions around the palace when we moved from Tonitri to Fulgur. Beyond that, the typical daily life of each city was almost identical, save for the ponies living those lives. Indeed, it felt like the ravine splitting the two cities was like a giant mirror, reflecting the nature of one city onto that of its twin, and vice versa.

Still, there was much to do while I awaited the delivery of my census reports. I took my sons, along with two of my trusted lictors, deep sea fishing to spend one day. Thankfully, the waters were calm, and it was a good day of bonding for the males of the family. Solidus had the largest catch, a young tuna measuring 27 inches from mouth to tail, which we all celebrated, even if the rest of us were less successful. For my part, I briefly hooked a sand shark, which thrashed about with snapping jaws with such ferocity that we were forced to let it go ere it cause some damage to the boat or any of us upon it. While it was an exciting moment, it was not something I was keen on experiencing again.

Iustitia, for his part, hooked a horseshoe. I am not particularly sure how he did so, but it happened.

While we were out on the sea, we also bore witness to some of the Gulls in action. There were only seven of them, which surprised me, and they towed a makeshift cart fashioned from cloud and wood behind them to hold their catch.They would take turns diving into the water, sometimes from as high as a hundred feet up, with their fishing spears braced against their bodies as they dived on the nearby schools. How they avoided breaking their necks when they pierced the water’s surface was beyond me, but after a few seconds in which they vanished beneath the briny surface, they would emerge in a flurry of splashing wings, sometimes with a catch. There was a lot of jovial whooping and hollering from their party as they fished, and when we hailed them and offered them a share of some of our beer and food, they took a break from their fishing to enjoy our hospitality.

Easterly Wind was the paterfamlias [8] of the family, and he and his two brothers and four sons had been working that stretch of ocean for the past week in search of better hauls. They were very friendly and keen to share their customs with us, including their migratory patterns; given that it was the beginning of Amber Skies, they figured they would only hang around the northern shores for another two months before rounding the western shores near Stratopolis before taking up winter residence in Procella to the south. I commented that the migratory nature of his clan makes it difficult for me to take accurate Census data, to which we began to practice some friendly debate. While I was of the opinion that keeping accurate count of all of the Empire’s inhabitants and wealth could only bring good things to our beloved Cirra, Easterly was, unsurprisingly, skeptical of such a practice, believing that the counting of ponies was a waste of time, for ponies are always birthing, dying, and moving from place to place, and any attempt to write them into the record books was therefore a waste of time. Still, Iustitia and Solidus were fascinated by the Gulls and their culture, and they were sorely disappointed when Easterly and his family departed to resume their fishing. At the very least, their minds were returned to their own spoils later that night, when my dear Electri fried the tuna Solidus had caught in some olive oil and made a good meal out of it. While we had become used to feasting on the local cuisine wherever we went, it was good to carry a bit of home with us; a good wife’s cooking is something sorely missed, even in the presence of other extravagance and bounty.

[8]: ‘Paterfamilias’ is old Cirran for ‘head of the household’, in this case, the oldest stallion of the group (similarly, the oldest mare of the group would be ‘materfamilias’). The paterfamilias was an important part of Cirran culture, as they and they alone commanded the authority of the household and oversaw its daily tasks and needs. When guests stayed at another pegasus’ house, they were housed under the hospitality of the paterfamilias, and as such were expected to show him respect and honor.

As much as I enjoyed my time in the Twin Cities, it eventually became time to gather my things and embark again. Next, we will travel to the very border of the Cirran Empire, where Nimbus serves as the stalwart vanguard to the precious Cirran heartland. The difference between it and Stratopolis, as I’ve heard from many senators who have made the journey before, is as stark as night and day. While my wife is nervous about what we might find, my sons are both excited for what awaits us. I confess that I find myself with a mixture of trepidation and excitement at what we will find. Every colt hears the stories of the great warriors of Nimbus while growing up; who knows how many of them are grounded in truth, and how many more fashioned from fiction? I shall soon find out, I am sure.

Nimbus

19th Amber Skies, 380 AE

The sea now behind us, we embarked on an easterly course to the city of Nimbus. Gone now was any semblance of the Cirra that I knew, the Cirra of Stratopolis and the west. The further east we flew, the more rugged the terrain became, and perhaps not coincidentally, the more hardened the pegasi. The comforts and easy life that so many enjoyed in the Empire began to bleed away, only to be replaced by the hardships of the frontier. For to survive here, a pegasus must be as unyielding as the very earth which they work.

The land surrounding Nimbus is heavily forested and rugged, with rocky hills and deep ravines all hidden beneath the canopy of the trees. Large settlements quite literally carved their mark into the earth, slicing down hundreds of trees to make room for their growing populations and selling the timber to the rest of Cirra. We would stop in these small towns for the night, collecting the required census data as well as filling our bellies with forest greens, berries, and the meat of the hunt, which was largely rabbit and pheasant [1]. It made for a fine feast, as far as the local hospitality could afford us. It was a pleasant enough experience, and we all found ways to make the most of our time en route to Nimbus. My dearest Electri spent much time exchanging gossip and recipes with the mothers of these small villages; it seems that even so far removed from the grand comforts of Stratopolis, a woman’s instincts remain unchanged. It is only my hope that I can sample the fruits of my wife’s labors when we return to Stratopolis, if they are anything like the food we tasted out here, though I expect them to be far better when perfused with the love of such a caring mare, and the resources that come with being married to a senator that the ponies here could scarcely afford.

[1]: Though it seems disgusting to us nowadays, Cirran pegasi supplemented their diets with meat, as was clearly explained in the previous installment when Aureus mentioned the grand fisheries of Tonitri and Fulgur. I add this footnote here because of the specific mention of pheasant meat, as there are still many pegasi that eat fish casually and without a second thought, though very few today would be willing to eat the flesh of other animals that walk the earth as we do. It was the Cirran belief that the consumption of meat led to the development of strong muscles fit for a warrior, but the pony anatomy is not well suited for extracting nutrients from such a food source. It is likely that the pegasi became so reliant and accepting of omnivory as a necessity; with no earth ponies to grow their food for them, their farms yielded very little product, at least in comparison to the earth ponies, and grass is a poor substitute for an army on the move.

I seized the opportunity to take my sons hunting when it became clear to me that one of the towns we had stopped in would not be delivering its census data to me until the following morning, on account of local incompetence and lack of organization. I have already written a letter to the Senate suggesting that an additional tax be levied on the town for interfering with the duties assigned to my office due to their negligence, but I digress. We were escorted into the forest by two locals and given spears with which we would hope to catch pheasants, as the villages do not go hunting by bow or javelin as the communities in the west do. From there, we were instructed in how to properly hunt pheasant. The trick is to stick to the treetops as best as you can and try to approach the birds from behind, dropping on them and impaling them before they can run or fly away. This requires a lightness of hoof that these ponies seemed to be naturals for, but which eluded me and my sons. Our attempts to sneak up on the birds always seemed to end in their escape before we could get within striking range. Indeed, the closest any of us got was Solidus’ frustrated toss of his spear at a fleeing pheasant, which nearly struck the bird before it became embedded in the soil. At the very least, I had the excuse of age to blame my failures on.

For their part, the locals were very amused to show us up, each managing three pheasants apiece. That they insisted we carry and clean their haul for them rankled no small number of feathers on my part, but it did serve to at least let my sons learn something from our adventure. After all, what good is hunting if you cannot do the cleaning that follows?

In the end, I think my wife ended up the best out of us. She certainly seemed to enjoy the serenity of the woods, especially with some time to spare herself from us stallions that surround her day after day. Blessed is a mare’s patience, for such is a virtue of a good wife.

We made another stop on our way to Nimbus at Lake Trasimare, which I mentioned in my previous entry was a source of contention between Nimbus and the Twin Cities during the tribal era of the pegasi. Apart from rainclouds, Trasimare provides most of the water to Nimbus and the surrounding settlements, and is also an important source for freshwater fish, coveted by the warriors of Nimbus for developing and honing their muscles and hearts for the conflict with the griffons they have become so accustomed to over the years. While we were there, we toured some of the old battlefields of this war, including the infamous ‘Helm’s Ditch’, where the helmets of thousands of Twin City pegasi that fell in battle have been dumped into an open ditch in the earth, a marker of the decisive Nimban victory that won them the lake, and an open warning to any that would dare stand against Nimbus. The crowns of the kings who ruled before King Ictus and Queen Reverentia were also prominently displayed here, and the Twin Cities saw the monument as an insult to their legacy for many years. Only when Nimbus was vanquished in the Social War, and the crown of Queen Sleeting Rain was displayed alongside those of the Twin Cities’ former rulers did they finally find justice [2].

[2]: From what records we do have, the Social War was an armed conflict that took place within the Empire in 271 AE. Numerous cities turned on Stratopolis and the Senate and began fighting for greater autonomy and concessions from the Cirran government following the devastating Talon War with the griffons from 245 - 268 AE. While Cirra won that war, it was not without heavy cost to the easternmost cities, which were left devastated and destitute, and received little aid or sympathy from the untouched western cities such as Stratopolis and Pileus. Among the cities leading the independence movement was Nimbus, which had suffered the greatest loss of life of all the cities that participated in the 23 year war. The war was only ended when loyalist forces, including those from the Twin Cities, slaughtered the outnumbered Nimban militia at Lake Trasimare, who refused to make peace and instead opted to die for their cause. But dead soldiers aren’t all that useful to a cause, and a dead queen even more so. Queen Sleeting Rain was slain alongside her soldiers, and the Rain dynasty was forced to abdicate the throne in punishment for their treachery; however, they were restored four years later by the Senate to appease the growing resentment in Nimbus before another war could break out. In the years following, Sleeting Rain was seen as a martyr figure for the Nimban people, a ruler willing to go to extreme lengths to protect Nimbus, even if that meant staring down an army that outnumbered hers ten to one.

But it would seem that my family had had enough of water for the time being with the northern coast still fresh in our minds, so we only stayed at the lake for a day to collect census data from the many small towns that surrounded it before pressing onwards to Nimbus. I’m certain that, come another year, I might return to the lake for a peaceful vacation from the hectic activity of Senate politics. Even if my sons have become absorbed into their careers by then, the privacy would not go unappreciated by my wife and I. I’m sure we could make much of it.

With Trasimare behind us, we began to ascend once more, for Nimbus at least had the decency to be like other Cirran cities and stick to the skies rather than mire itself on the ground, where the Nimbans spend much of their attention anyway. The city was easy enough to spot at a distance, especially given that it was perched higher in the atmosphere than most pegasus cities traditionally are placed. Two of my lictors had visited Nimbus before as escorts to other senators, and they informed me that the city is placed so high in the sky so that they may keep a better watch on the surrounding countryside in case of griffon aggression. Though with the griffons finally subdued, and a suitable buffer state erected between Cirra and Gryphus proper, I began to wonder whether the Nimbans would ever lower their city to a more comfortable altitude. Of course, they may also have become so used to the high altitude chill that doing so would be uncomfortable for them, but I digress.

The point I make is that we could see Nimbus long before we ever arrived, and as soon as we had flown close enough for their sentries to notice the Emperor’s seal on our carriage, a wing of Nimban soldiers was dispatched to escort us into the city proper with the welcoming we deserved, or as much as the Nimbans were willing to provide. Indeed, it seemed that my lictors, being ponies concerned with arms and battle, received a warmer welcome from the Nimbans than we did. I had heard it said before in the Senate that the Nimbans value the common soldier over the shrewd politician any day. I now found the reasoning behind such rumors, and I can confirm that they are true.

That is not to say that we were treated unfairly. Nimbans, proud as they may be, still respect the authority of imperium, and as a censor I carried much with me. We were hastily brought to the grand palace of Nimbus for a formal reception, where the damage to the city was the least. Indeed, as I looked out my window, I could see the city still struggling to get back on its hooves. Nimbus had been bypassed and besieged for nearly a year as the griffon hordes struck deep into the heartland to eliminate our food stores and tie up our legions far from their borders, and assaults on the city to weaken the defenders’ morale and overrun fortifications were common. Despite that, I think the Nimbans reveled in the hardships and combat foisted upon them, for I have heard it said that morale never reached the breaking point during the long siege. I suppose we have to thank the tactical brilliance of Commander Thunder Gale, who led the defense of the city, for holding out as long as he did. Still, despite him being their ultimate champion, the Nimbans are too proud to admit that a pony other than their beloved Winter Rain was responsible for their continued survival, especially when that pony was a westerner from Stratopolis.

When we arrived at the palace, which bore very few scars from siege weaponry unlike the buildings closer to the city’s walls, we were greeted by the monarch himself. Winter is certainly a stallion of remarkable presence. While not the tallest, and certainly not the biggest, the stallion still carries considerable power about him, strength honed from a lifetime of fighting griffons. I had no doubt that he was stronger than he appeared, and he appeared very strong. His white coat is covered in healing scars, a testament to his time at the front, and the only color on his body comes from his blue mane. He wears his confidence and experience about him like a cloak, and it’s easy to see why his subjects are so infatuated with him. The name of the legendary Rain dynasty only cements the respect he commands.

He did not arrive alone, for he also brought his wife and son with him, along with an honor guard of royal hoplites. His son, Steel, bears a striking resemblance to his father, and though he is only six years of age, already carries himself with a proper warrior’s discipline. Grooming to take over the throne starts at a young age in Nimbus, for the city cannot afford to have a weak ruler [3].

[3]: While Steel Rain was the only one of Winter’s children alive at the time, Winter’s successor, Iron Rain, would be born two years later. While Steel was originally supposed to succeed their father, he was killed defending his younger sister from griffons during an ambush on her agoge, or her right of passage.

I found Winter’s wife, Xiphos, more interesting, although not for her looks, which, while certainly athletic and betrayed a youthful vigor underneath her stern, almost stoic front, were lacking compared to my own wife. What was interesting to note was her resemblance to Gold Feather’s wife, Aspis [4]. I was familiar with the family of Augustus Haysar’s right hoof, as were all of us in the Senate from all the times the Emperor and his entourage visit us, and I could clearly see the similarities between them. I would find out from later conversations to soothe my curiosity that Winter’s wife was indeed a twin sister to Aspis. How amusing that two mares nearly identical in appearance and behavior could find themselves perched high atop the dynasties of two different reigns. Amusingly, Xiphos did admit that she was sometimes irritated by her younger sister (younger being a loose term here, as they were born minutes apart) technically being her superior with how closely she was positioned to the Emperor.

[4]: Imperator Gold Feather served as a second in command to Emperor Augustus, and his daughter was Swift Spear, who eventually became Commander Hurricane’s first wife. Aspis and her sister, Xiphos, were said to be troublesome twins, with their fair share of adventure across Dioda before they landed as wives to two of the most powerful stallions in the Empire. It’s interesting that by this line of blood, Hurricane’s family, the Stormblades, were more closely related to the Rains than many Nimban pegasi following the destruction of the Empire and the subsequent rebuilding in the Compact Lands.

We were treated to a tour of the Nimban palace, which is very small compared to the grandeur of the Cirran palace, and hardly larger than the average senator’s villa. This palace is the latest in a string of razed and rebuilt palaces, although this one has had the fortune to stand for a little more than two centuries. In true Nimban style, the palace is devoid of most ornate embellishments and decorations that traditionally describe a palace, and was designed with functionality in mind. The palace has just enough rooms to house the royal family, servants, and honored guests, and an entire wing is dedicated as a barracks for the royal hoplites that protect Lord Rain. The palace is also designed to frustrate and thwart any assault launched upon it by griffon armies, with strategic choke points and long hallways that a Nimban pike phalanx could hold against vastly superior enemy numbers. In comparison to the keep in Pileus, the defenses of the Nimban palace are simple, but undoubtedly just as effective; where the Pileans relied on cunning and machinery to defend their palace, the Nimbans were content to rely on the strength of their warriors.

After weeks of luxury and relative comfort while traveling, I believe my wife and sons were disappointed by the modest accommodations that we were given in the palace. We were given two rooms, one for me and my wife, and another for my sons, with firm bedding and little in the way of comforts. My wife was the most distraught at our arrangement, for there was not a suitable station for her to beautify herself in the mornings and indulge her well-deserved vanity. I put a request to Winter to help alleviate some of her concerns, and he had some hoofmaidens assigned to our room to help her feel more comfortable. Although Nimbans might not understand modern comforts and luxury, Winter has dealt with enough senators to know that we in the west expect such things. Though it might make the ponies of Nimbus seem droll and unrefined by our standards, it is simply a way of life for the city. They have never been ones to concern themselves with frivolous things such as material comforts. The only things they value are duty and honor, and of course, skill in combat.

I was pleased to meet an old friend of mine from our time in the Senate during my stay in Nimbus. Senator Dicentis Celsus, who has become something of a storm upon the debate floor in the recent years, happened to be in his hometown while my office took me here. I confess a fondness for the younger senator, as he learned under my guidance when he was newly elected to the Senate, and I had taken him under my wing when I realized that we shared many of our views and opinions. Though he still thinks and acts like a young soldier fighting alongside his Lord, he has become better in recent years, and has started to display a shrewdness in politics that is so often lacking from many of the other five hundred senators. If I were to put a feather on what it is that makes him seem so aspiring, I would say common sense, but as anypony who has dabbled in politics knows, common sense is hardly common.

Not only did I meet Dicentis, but I also had the fortune to meet his little daughter, Summer. At the time of this writing, she was little more than a year old. She showed a fondness for her father that was highly amusing, as she became upset whenever he moved out of her sight, and her natural place was occupying his back between his wings. Although she didn’t like being held by other ponies, myself included, the foal had a remarkable interest in the drilling of the royal hoplites near the palace. I have no doubt that one day she will become a legendary warrior forging her mark in the history books, as all Nimban children aspire to be.

Much of our discussion lingered on our family lives, for Dicentis was naturally very proud of the new spark of life he and his wife had brought into the world, but eventually we moved onto politics, especially his notable absence from most of the Senate sessions since the end of the war. His daughter’s ironclad attachment to him as well as his wife’s lingering sickness were why he had been absent from Senate politics for much of the previous year, although he expressed hope that he’d be able to return come the following spring. I assured him that I was doing what I could to make his position in the Senate unassailable during his absence, which was thankfully not a difficult task on my part; while we all had our rivals, Dicentis included, few would be willing or able to muster enough support to spite him out of his seat while he was singlehoofedly caring for a sick wife and dependent daughter. There are politics, and then there are petty struggles. As Cirran senators, we did our jobs first before concerning ourselves with our rivals [5].

[5]: Though things were better in the time of the Haysars due to the impressive amount of control and influence they wielded over the Senate, having five hundred politicians trying to curry favor and appointments that would grant them imperium from the emperor and consuls frequently ground Cirran politics to deadlock in times past. To reference the Talon and Social Wars one more time, both conflicts started because of incredibly factionalized deadlock in the senate house that would result in laws being repealed by one faction a year after they were passed by another. The tumult and instability that afflicted Cirra during the 3rd century AE can be attributed to bickering senators and weak emperors, who couldn’t agree on a solution to the empire’s problems while the land burned around them. If the Talon War hadn’t forced the senators to set aside their differences to protect Cirra from a griffon invasion, the empire likely would have shattered much sooner than it ultimately did.

However, I did not journey to Nimbus to speak with old friends, so I shall return my attentions to the purpose of my visit. I noted a sharp decline in the city’s population, easily attributed to the High Noon War we just so recently concluded. When the last census was taken five years ago, the city and surrounding villages had a population of 267,000. When I compiled the census data I collected over the past week, my final tally was about 212,000. Roughly one in every five Nimban pegasi died in the war, with the majority of deaths coming from frontier settlements that were simply erased in the conflict, on top of all the soldiers that gave their lives defending the city from the griffon onslaught. By referencing missing records versus the data collected five years ago, I found that 17 towns with populations over 1,000 had been completely destroyed, their inhabitants murdered down to the last soul. These atrocities are barbaric and unthinkable. I will be submitting my findings to the Emperor and the Senate so that we may decide how to punish the hybrids for these crimes once my census is complete.

Still, I did note that as I flew around the city, almost every mare I saw that was still in her prime was already heavy with foal. I expect in the next year or two, Nimbus will see a massive boom in population. It seems that the Nimbans celebrated the end of the war much more enthusiastically than the rest of Cirra.

The city itself has as much character as its inhabitants, and is indeed a city that only a Nimban could love. There is scarcely much in the way of decoration or creative architecture, and the colorful flourishes of Startopolis’ rainbow waterfalls or decorative and intricate gold leafing on its grandest buildings are entirely absent here. Artists and other skilled craftsponies would do poorly in the city, as the Nimbans are not keen to spend their money on any form of art that is not both practical and somehow centered around war and fighting. For example, one of the most decorative pieces of furniture I saw in the entire Nimban palace was the personal weapon rack of Lord Winter, crafted from steel and bronze with intricate carvings that must have taken many, many days to complete.

Still, the Nimbans are not without their decorative flourishes. When they marry, they exchange ceremonial (though still exceptionally sharp) daggers with their spouse, as a symbol of protection. I had become familiar with the dagger Dicentis always carried on his person, the gift his wife gave him, and when walking the streets of Nimbus, it looked like almost every adult I saw was armed with a dagger given to them by their husband or wife. The tradition is said to have started with the first Rain, who was given a dagger by her lover to protect herself with when he went off to war. Though he never returned, she used the knife in his memory, claiming vengeance for his death and eventually giving it to a new husband she married once she had claimed the throne of Nimbus for herself. It would seem that even some of the oldest displays of love and affection in Nimbus carry with them the legacy of war and death.

The Nimbans also have a curious fascination with the wounds of war. They consider battle scarring to their homes and property an improvement rather than a detriment, so long as the damage does not compromise the integrity of the structure or make it uncomfortable to live in. I passed by innumerous houses that had open holes in their walls instead of windows, and roof tiles that had been cracked and shattered from bodies landing on them. Even the north of the city is immaculately preserved and protected, as all that stands there are the ruins of the first city of Nimbus when it was sacked by griffons almost seven hundred years ago, decades before the first Rain slaughtered her way to the top of the throne and installed her dynasty.

I was merely thankful that there weren’t any holes in the palace. Property values are a secondary concern on a structure such as that, and it becomes harder to defend from attack if there are gaping wounds in the walls of the building.

The pegasi of Nimbus themselves are fair, if rough around the edges. If you are a legionary on duty, you can expect to be stopped multiple times with salutes and even small gifts of food and drink as you go about your tasks. In Nimbus, a pony’s character is judged more by the number of griffons killed than anything else, and the bonds of soldiers run deep in the population. They have little patience for politicians, so I found myself receiving tepid welcomes at the worst of times from guards on duty. Still, they recognized the service that I am doing for our Empire, so they treated me and my family with respect, if not necessarily opening their wings in friendship.

The large majority of the male population (and almost all of the young and single female population) of Nimbus is enrolled in their famed militia. I have found the name to be somewhat misleading, as they are less of a militia and more of a professional fighting force that can be rallied in an instant in times of crisis. Service in the militia is not required by law, but is mandatory nonetheless if one wants to navigate Nimban society and advance up the ladder to a higher station in life. The militia offers training for colts and fillies from the age of six onwards, culminating in their right of passage, agoge, where they must survive in the wilderness on their own for as much as a week before being allowed to return home [6]. In days long since past, these young Nimbans, who were only 15 at the time, would be expected to kill a griffon and bring its head back as proof of their victory, but the tradition has faded over time as the expansion of Nimban territory has simply pushed the griffons further and further away from the city. Nowadays, the hope is that if a Nimban can survive on their own in the wild with manticores and other sorts of dangerous wildlife, they will be ready to fight for Nimbus when it is demanded of them.

[6]: Presumably, this formal training also encompassed what schooling the Nimbans received, such as how to read and write, as there are no other references to formal institutions like what could be found in Stratopolis, and given Nimbus’ hatred towards griffons it seems likely that pedagogues, or learned slaves who served as tutors for their master’s young, would have been virtually nonexistent.

As honored guests from Stratopolis, we were treated to a show on the Nimban parade grounds. This show consisted of different veterans and Nimban gladiators demonstrating their skills before us in single or paired combat, only stopping when one had thoroughly thrashed their opponent, and further struggling would only result in serious injury or the death of one involved. It was an impressive display, and I did find myself entertained throughout as Nimbans fought with everything from sword and wingblades to spear and shield. I was surprised when Lord Rain himself made an appearance on the field and soundly beat the five opponents he chose to spar against into submission. Though he was a stallion past his prime, he had yet to reach the age where muscle and mind decay, and his experience more than made up for the youthful vigor his opponents displayed.

I also had my doubts that the young soldiers who were chosen to fight against him really wanted to win. Beating and bloodying your lord is never an option that sits easily with loyal subjects, for fear of what reprisals might come in response. Even though Lord Winter is almost universally beloved by the pegasi of Nimbus, there are those who would take a perceived affront to his honor as a grave insult and seek to settle matters with their own hooves.

Still, the affair was bloody, if not damaging or deadly. While none were seriously hurt, several pegasi suffered broken noses or sprained limbs over the course of the sparring. My poor wife was upset by the violence, and sought to excuse herself partway through a particularly nasty melee. I will not deny that the contempt several nearby Nimban mares and wives scorned her with behind her back as she left threatened to rouse me into a cold fury, but thankfully Xiphos, who was seated at our side while her husband fought, was mindful of my temperament and appropriately reprimanded the mares for their behavior. I would find the same mares apologizing to my confused wife later that day, much to my amusement. It is something I noted as particularly comedic; the Nimbans place so much pride on their honor that the mere threat of perceiving their actions as dishonorable behavior is enough to cause them to reverse their current course and seek to make amends with the offended party, especially if they are a superior, like Xiphos. As the Nimbans are fond of quoting, the first Rain, Katagismos, often said that, “I love the name of honor, more than I fear death.” The great Roamulus had a different opinion: “Honor is like a match; you can only use it once, and its burns are self-inflicted” [7]. Considering which of our two dynasties rules as Emperor of Cirra, I find myself having trouble believing like the Nimbans do that honor is the end all, be all to our lives.

[7]: Whether or not Roamulus actually said this is a matter of some debate, as the earliest reference to this quote that we can find dates to 189 AE. In the ongoing rivalry between Stratopolis and Nimbus, which never really died despite the formation of a unified empire, this seems to be more of a barb invented by the western pegasi to irritate their eastern brethren.

After a week in Nimbus, it became time to move on again, much to the disappointment of my sons, who had become transfixed with the warrior culture of the city during our brief stay. Much like how we entered, we left under the accompanyment of an honor guard of royal hoplites, at least until we reached the city’s borders, at which point they broke off and returned to the palace in impressive formation. From here, it will be little more than a day’s flight from Nimbus to the border, and then on to Hengstead, the first of the Empire’s new holdings we will be visiting. My wife is hesitant about traveling to griffon lands, and I am hesitant about bringing my family along as well, but this is what my lictors are for. All of them are veterans of wars past, and I will place my life in their hooves. At the very least, we will be stopping in the lands of the Canii first, loyal griffons who sided with the Empire instead of attacking us during the High Noon War. In their lands, we will have little to fear, and it should serve as the perfect opportunity to expose my sons to civilized hybrids before visiting their more barbaric brethren.

Hengstead

24th of Amber Skies, 380 AE

Two days of flight took us away from Nimbus and past the old borders of Cirra, an invisible line in the ground that had existed for centuries until we so recently moved it to the east. Past the great warrior city, pegasus towns and settlements dwindled both in size and number the further east we flew, until we spotted only occasional farms or sparse clusters of buildings within miles and miles of dense woodlands. Even the Nimbans have a respect for the pegasi who live this far east, as it takes a ferocity and toughness nigh unmatchable to survive this close to griffon lands.

The pegasi who live on the east border have always been subject to raids from the neighboring griffon state and have had to learn how to band together and defend themselves whenever the hybrids show their faces. Many of these pegasi are older veterans of Nimbus’ legions who were given land awarded to their city for its participation in Cirra’s wars, and as such are some of the most hardened and tested pegasi one will ever meet. Though they scarcely seem to have any sort of governing organization amongst their scattered settlements and homesteads, the settlers can raise an entire legion’s worth of soldiers in a few hours, and their collective response is both brutal and devastating to the marauders that would seek to plunder their homes. In recent years, griffon raids have decreased dramatically due to the willingness of every stallion and mare to fight for their land and their homes, making such attacks more trouble than they are worth.

With the conclusion of the war, however, the violent griffon tribes in the area were pacified [1], and settlement in the border region is expected to increase dramatically over the coming years. I have already borne witness to entire sessions of the Senate dedicated to organizing a triumvirate dedicated to appropriating and distributing lands to the settlers who wish to colonize the frontier at the cost of almost nothing. Perhaps within a few decades, the senate will have to organize another municipium and begin the construction of a properly functioning local government. In time, we may see the addition of a new sky city to our empire.

[1]: Based on military reports that have been recovered from this time period, the Cirrans seem to have an interesting definition of the term ‘pacified’.

There is not so much any solid line or demarcation that separates Cirran lands from those of the griffons, but at some point in our flight, the settlements we passed began to change. Pegasus settlements are wide and rectangular, doing their best to imitate a senator’s villa with what limited resources the working settlers have. Here, we began to see longhouses and other crude constructions in the Gryphon style. Many of these buildings were damaged and in disrepair, casualties of the griffons’ foolish war with the Empire, and most settlements close to the border were completely abandoned. Despite this, I could not shake the feeling that we were being watched as we entered the griffon lands.

We passed by a large clearing filled with tree stumps, the very earth churned up as if thousands of hooves had stormed across it for days on end. As my lictors would inform me, it was not hooves that destroyed the soil so, but paws and talons. We had stumbled upon the remains of a griffon camp, likely a staging area prior to the siege of Nimbus now several years ago. While the tents and other equipment had been destroyed or withdrawn long ago, it would seem that the very earth is slow to recover from the griffon blight. That signs of a camp used in the early stages of the war could still be seen years later was simply remarkable.

The forests soon began to peter out, being replaced by the rugged and hilly terrain that dominates the center and eastern stretches of the continent. Soon, we found ourselves on a path for a cleft in the mountain ranges of central Dioda, where the griffon city of Hengstead can be found. Hengstead was once a jewel of the griffon warlords, a bastion of griffon pride in the west, something to stare down Nimbus from the protective embrace of the mountains. The enormous, walled city straddles a river and climbs up the mountains to its south and the solitary peak to the north, Hühnerstall, as I believe they call it in their tongue, which translates to something similar to the Hen’s Roost. While the city was admittedly impressive in its own right, it fails to compare to the grandeur of Stratopolis, and even that of Pileus, which seemed more at home in the mountains than this work of griffon stone and talons.

Our carriage was sighted and approached by a coalition of both pegasus legionaries and griffon auxiliaries, eight from each company, and both wearing armor and armament in the Cirran style. The pegasi occupied the right wing of the carriage and the griffons the left, and my wife and I had to move aside to make room for my sons’ curiosity. They had never seen a griffon this close before, and the broad wings attached to a leonine body and large, feathered heads enthralled them. My wife was more wary than excited, for she had never been close to one before either, and I held her hoof as she very carefully sated her curiosity in small peeks through the window. For my own part, I had seen enough of them at the gladiatorial games and on trial in the Senate House for prosecution of crimes committed in the war that they failed to hold the same dangerous mystery they once commanded over my youth [2].

[2]: Cirra’s praetor urbanus of the time, a mare by the name of Ultimus Iudicium, kept extremely detailed reports of the proceedings of these trials. Following the war, almost a hundred griffon warlords and chieftains were rounded up from across Gryphus and put on trial. Here, they were accused of everything from the slaughter of Cirran civilians to other acts of “indecency” and “crimes against nature, spirit, and the gods”. Of the ninety-seven put on trial, sixty-two were put to death, twenty-six were sold into slavery, and six were imprisoned for various lengths of time. Only three warlords were allowed to walk away relatively unscathed, likely because Cirra was able to use them to control some of the neighboring tribes farthest from the reach of its legions. Terms were likewise drafted during these proceedings which arranged for the taking of hostages from nearly every griffon tribe within Gryphus.

We were flown into the city under the escort of our two wings, where we alighted near the hold. Hengstead’s central keep was an impressive building of stone, though it looked decidedly claustrophobic despite its size. The windows of the stone structure were all too small for a pegasus to fit through, and it had a noticeable lack of balconies and other points of egress along its walls. Since Hengstead was so close to Nimbus, the keep was designed to force the Nimbans to fight for it room by room and on hoof, instead of assaulting the structure from multiple angles and elevations, effectively forcing their armies into tight corridors where the larger and stronger griffons held a distinct advantage. Though the city had been sacked, captured, and razed numerous times and in different ways over the years by Nimban pegasi, the keep had never fallen, and the Nimbans of those wars had learned to simply ignore it and concentrate their efforts elsewhere instead of throwing lives away on a fruitless endeavor.

However, the city was not sacked in the war. It was not even attacked, at least not by Cirran forces. Hengstead and the surrounding griffon lands have always enjoyed somewhat closer ties with Cirra than with their brethren across the mountains, and over time this has led to the permeation of Cirran culture in Hengstead, impacting everything from how the griffons dress and act to the kind of buildings they erect. Recently, it has affected how they fight as well. When war broke out, Hengstead and the surrounding lands refused the call to arms of their griffon brethren, instead choosing to pledge their support to our late emperor, Julius Haysar. The city and its lands were besieged and plundered by griffon armies who were almost more eager to put down their traitorous brethren than press the attack on Nimbus itself. This distraction of griffon forces reduced those besieging Nimbus, allowing the city to hold out for as long as it did until the Legion was mobilized in full and could break the siege, beginning the process of ending the war.

Once the war was concluded, the Senate and the Emperor decided to reward the griffons of Hengstead for their loyalty to the true empire. As such, many of the benefits that us Cirrans enjoy were extended to them, such as protection and financial support, and in return, Hengstead was reorganized into a Cirran province. While much of this is still only on paper, the appropriate actions are being taken to make these proclamations and changes official as soon as possible. It is important that the province is recognized and made into law as soon as possible to begin to hamper griffon raids on our settlements in the border region [3].

[3]: Hengstead was one of the few ‘provinces’ Cirra organized in its time as an empire. As a province, Hengstead was given a great degree of autonomy in its everyday affairs, but its foreign policy was controlled exclusively by Cirra, effectively making it a puppet state with integral ties to the empire. As Hengstead settled into its role as a Cirran province, the griffons living there came to be derisively known as ‘Canii’ by their brethren for their dog-like loyalty to their Cirran ‘masters’. Despite this, the Canii never earned citizenship in Cirra, and the pegasi instead offered it as a reward to those griffons that served faithfully in their armies in an effort to recruit expendable soldiers into their auxiliaries.

Upon exiting our carriage, we were immediately greeted by the chief of the Hengsteaders, a boisterous gray griffon with a white head who fashioned himself in the dress and demeanor of a Cirran governor. Chief Gervas, or Gervasius as he preferred to be called, favoring the Cirranization of his name, had the build of a griffon who spent years sharpening his talons in the brutal wilds of the frontier, fighting against our brave Nimban brethren. However, he also carried in his skull something that most of his species lacks; namely, intelligence of any sort above a rudimentary desire to maim and kill [4]. He was able to recognize that the time was fast approaching where the griffons must either kneel before Cirra’s might or be swept aside and trampled underhoof, and when war broke out, he wisely picked the winning side, in effect elevating him and the clans under his rule above that of their barbaric brethren. When the war was concluded, he officially pledged his loyalty and the loyalty of all his kin and clan to Emperor Haysar, and surrendered his autonomy to become a client of Cirra. For that alone, he stands out as an individual worth of pegasus respect, for it takes an individual of strong will to sever their ties to their animalistic nature in the pursuit of something better for themselves and the people who follow them.

[4]: As we’ve seen already, Cirran pegasi, particularly patrician highborns like Aureus, were exceptionally racist and xenophobic.

Gervasius is also one of the few griffons I have met that I find to be an agreeable sort. He recognized my authority as the appointed censor for the census and treated me and my family with respect. When I approached him, he saluted as we would in Cirra, and he knelt before my wife and did his best imitation at kissing her hoof as a creature with a beak instead of lips can. Though this unnerved Electri, having a griffon’s beak so close to her flesh, it was a suitable alternative to the traditional greeting of kissing an acquaintance upon the cheeks. Gervasius is mindful enough to know that pegasi are naturally wary of a griffon’s beak and talons, as they are lethal weapons in their own right, and to greet carelessly with such would be the same as holding a dagger in one’s mouth when seeking to embrace a comrade.

He escorted us not back to the keep, as I was expecting, but instead along a short flight from the city. In a natural plateau weathered from the side of the southern mountains, Gervasius had constructed a replica of a senator’s villa, complete with all the Cirran architectural flourishes; namely, walls and columns of white marble, an orange terra cotta roof, and a spacious atrium large enough to hold a small garden in the center of the house. Even still, the griffon’s native culture still permeated the house, for alongside Cirran paintings and sculpture, he had decorated his villa with wooden masks and small totems that are so common amongst the tribes of Gryphus. The end effect was to create a seamless blend between our two cultures, indeed two entirely different worlds, an ideal of the way things should be. Indeed, if the rest of Gervasius’ kind were to be more like him and his servants, then there would be little for the pegasi and the griffons to squabble about. Hopefully within my sons’ lifetimes Cirra will see her barbaric neighbors uplifted into civilization and enlightenment. It is only fitting that we noble pegasi do our duty to guide those consumed by predatory instincts and warlike rage into the path of duty and honor.

We were drawn to the kitchen by the smell of food, mostly that of cooking meat. Gervasius assured us that in addition to the meat, he had also told his servants to steam vegetables for us pegasi, which was considerate of him. While griffons are exclusive carnivores, and only dine on flesh, it is much harder for pegasi to do so, and while most of us enjoy the taste of fish and sometimes pork, we cannot live off of that alone. Thus, that Gervasius had gone out of his way to procure vegetables and fruits before our visit to cater specifically to us was yet another indication of how much this griffon was willing to see us leave as friends, rather than mere acquaintances.

We made talk during the meal. Gervasius was interested in my journey so far, and I told him my story. In return, he told me about his family life, and the life of the griffons in Hengstead. Gervasius is a married tercel, happily wed to a white hen named Auda, who is softspoken and kind around strangers, but when put in a room with another woman, transforms into a gay and scandalous creature like any mare. Electri and Auda spent much of our stay at the villa exchanging gossip, the differences in race and station completely lost in the excitement of passing on hearsay. I believe that Electri was simply happy to have another woman to converse with, as she has spent so much of this journey surrounded by the stallions of her family and the stallions of our escorts, and stallions are not creatures of gossip like mares are.

Gervasius also has a young daughter, whom my sons spent most of their time fascinated with, as they were surrounded by important adult conversation of which they could not participate in. The fledgling is a female griffon barely a few months old, pure snowy white like her mother. I am told that she will be named on her first birthday, as is the griffon custom, but for now the parents were considering the name ‘Aella’. Griffons that they may be, and creatures much more agreeable to violence than pegasi, the name does have a sort of understated beauty to it. I wish the family luck in raising their daughter.

But talk turned to business soon enough. Gervasius presented me the census records of Hengstead, readily collected from a population eager to prove itself a worthy piece of the Empire. Griffons have always lived longer and bred slower than pegasi, with most families raising only one or two children, whereas pegasus families tend to raise small flocks of their own [5], so it was hardly a surprise to me that the Hengsteaders did not number in the hundreds of thousands. The data collected places their population at 92,000, making them numerous indeed, especially for their species, yet making them one of the smallest proper cities in the Empire. Now that their lands are under Cirran protection, however, I expect that their population will rise sharply over the coming years, as veterans and other displaced pegasi migrate eastward to the lands surrounding Hengstead and the frontier.

[5]: At the time, the average pegasus family foaled five children. Since a pegasus’ lifespan then was about sixty years, and a griffon’s nearly thrice that, the pegasi reproduced faster than their rivals to keep their population up. It also led to Cirra having vast reserves of fighting age stallions that it could call up at a moment’s notice, something that the scattered griffon tribes sorely lacked until they were unified under their god-king Magnus in 400 AE.

Though it was not under my jurisdiction, talk turned to other matters regarding Hengstead’s place in the Empire, mostly concerning its role in trade and the Legion. Hengstead’s primary benefit to the Empire is its positioning near many seams of iron, which our forges need to keep the Legion armed, and even more important than the ore in the earth are the smiths that work it. Griffon steel has always been considered exceptional in quality, and their smiths masters of their craft. Their weapons do not break, and if properly maintained can hold a lethal edge for decades, whereas Cirran steel eventually loses its edge from use and wear. Once the Legion establishes a military quarter in Hengstead, it will probably see to the commissioning of griffon blacksmiths for the crafting of arms for its officers. While the mass-produced steel of Cirra is suitable for the milites of the line, the officers will undoubtedly pay more for superior armament.

Then there was the issue of military service. Gervasius pressed me on what exactly the Legion would expect of him and his griffons, and I told him what I could of the senate proceedings that I’d attended on the subject before I was appointed censor. I informed him that the Legion planned on organizing auxiliary legions comprised of griffons taught to fight in the Cirran style and used to police the Empire’s new holding, as it was believed that his species would be more amenable to order established by its own kind rather than the hooves of occupying pegasus soldiers. The auxiliary legions would be comprised mostly of young griffons pressed into service from the heartland tribes as a means of keeping their numbers under control and pulling potential soldiers away from them before they could muster an army large enough to rebel. However, the auxiliaries would remain open to any griffon who wished to volunteer. As an incentive for voluntary service, the Senate was considering granting citizenship to any griffon who served the full twenty years[6] of service, along with a villa and lands to work in the frontier and lands around Hengstead. Naturally, this led to Gervasius asking me whether or not Hengsteaders would be granted citizenship in the near future. I avoided the question, saying that I did not know, and that it would be up to the Senate to decide. What I did not tell him was that I knew such a measure would be unlikely; Cirran citizenship is something closely guarded in the Empire, as the benefits it confers are not insubstantial, such as voting and property rights. The Nimbans were not granted Cirran citizenship until 250 years ago. I can see it taking as much as a century before Cirra will even consider granting the griffons of Hengstead citizenship in the Empire.

[6]: Amazingly, twenty years of service in the Legion was the standard term of service for its soldiers. Most pegasi who joined the Legion when they were 20 wouldn’t be able to retire until they were 40, although they could retire earlier if their commanders granted them land and spoils from a successful campaign. The idea was to build and maintain a large fighting force of experienced veterans who would be able to bolster the energy and strength of the younger soldiers with the wisdom and experience that comes with years of fighting. For the most part, this was effective; the veterans were usually held in reserve and used only at the decisive moment of a battle, and when they were used, the results were devastating. Many Cirran victories were won this way, using the younger soldiers to tie down the main body of an enemy army, then outflanking and destroying it with the veteran soldiers. Still, twenty years is a long time even by our standards, and back then, it was quite literally a third of a pegasus’ life, though only a tenth of a griffon’s, probably making the offer more appealing. One can easily understand where the dedication to the Legion comes from when you have to devote the prime of your life to fighting for it.

After finishing our orders of business, we were treated to tours of Hengstead and the surrounding mountains. I used the time over the next several days to prepare a report of Hengstead’s assets and potentially promising prospects for the investment of imperial coin. I interviewed many of Hengstead’s master smiths and examined their works and selected the best for presentation to the Emperor when he takes his victory triumph through the griffon lands. I also bought two masterfully crafted daggers to give to my sons, as they are both of the age where they should begin to carry around a symbol of their status and the capability to defend themselves. Though I will not let them have free reign of their new weapons while we are on this journey, I plan to have them instructed in self defense once we return. In the coming years, they may be called by the emperor to serve, and it would do them well to be trained before being sent to a legion.

I also attended, with my family and Gervasius’ family, a festival being held in Hengstead, celebrating the conclusion of the war and Hengstead’s coming integration into the Empire. Gervasius had us be guests of honor at the parade, as our presence here is an indication of Hengstead’s coming good fortunes. Both Solidus and Iustitia enjoyed their time in the spotlight, though the sight of so many griffons gathered to see us naturally unnerved Electri. Thankfully, the griffons of Hengstead intended no harm for us, and so the festivities concluded without any incident.

After staying in Hengstead for roughly a week, and becoming more familiar with griffon culture, we made our final preparations to leave. The next stop in our journey would be the heartlands of the griffon tribes, where some of the hybrids still have not yet accepted that they have lost the war. As such, I sent out a formal request for additional reinforcements during my next leg of the journey, and was gifted with a centuria from the Fourth Legion, which is finishing pacifying the griffon lands. Now, with a contingent of an additional sixty-four pegasi escorting my carriage, we were all set to continue into the griffon lands, with enough protection to ward off any overzealous griffons who would seek to hurt the empire by attacking one of its faithful servants. Gervasius wished me safe travels, and we departed.

The Darkwood

28th Amber Skies, 380 AE

Hengstead was truly the last bastion of civilization and decency in Dioda as we forged onwards into the heart of the hybrids’ realms. While Gervasius may have impressed with his attempts at imitating Cirran culture to uplift his people, the griffons of the Darkwood Forest showed no such interest. In fact, these griffons are fiercely loyal to their pride and their traditions, and they have caused nothing but trouble to the Fourth Legion as it attempts to pacify the Empire’s new holdings.

Whenever we would stop to make camp along the way, which was often enough, the century assigned as escorts to my carriage would fortify the surrounding area, spending three or four hours on preparing defenses each night only to abandon them come morning. The centurion of our escort, a young stallion by the name of Dusk Strike, informed us that such precautions were simply a necessary facet of life this far east. Griffon marauders who refused to see reason, and whom believed the war still raged on, would often strike at Legion assets in the darkest hours of the night. Many good ponies had died over the past months to these honorless ambushes, and the legate of the Fourth Legion had placed the order that villages would be put to the torch in retaliation for these attacks. To my dismay, it appears that several villages were razed to the ground and their tercels slain to the last, the hens and fledglings sold as slaves [1]. This will certainly complicate my records collection, as I will have to consult with the legate to confirm which scrolls are still accurate and which have been nullified by his soldiers.

[1]: The legate of the Fourth Legion during this time left precious few records on his legion’s actions following the war, and Aureus does not elaborate further on what he and the legate talked about. However, it is safe to say that the pegasi probably overstepped their boundaries when dealing with their defeated but resistant enemies. While the pegasi often described the griffons as heartless monsters, the pointless slaughter they were often only too happy to perpetuate on their vanquished neighbors leaves me to believe that Cirra really needed to take a look in a mirror. However, history is written by the victors, and the pegasi in 380 AE were unquestionably the victors.

Solidus and Iustitia seemed to enjoy these stops, as to them, it was little more than camping and playing with the soldiers. For Electri and myself, particularly my dear wife, it was somewhat more stressful. Despite our escort, we both suspected that there were griffon reavers prowling through the woods around us, and we both feared what would happen if we were suddenly attacked. Thankfully, gods be praised, none of the monsters dared show their faces, not while we were protected by so many fine soldiers of the Legion. I felt doubly reassured in my request for soldiers to reinforce my bodyguard, and I slept easier at night than I otherwise would have. Suffice it to say, we were not attacked at all before we made it to the center of the Darkwood Forest.

The center of this forest, a stretch of hardwood trees that fill the valley nearly to the brim, is home to the ruling tribe of the land. I use the term quite lightly; the griffons are always squabbling amongst each other, and the ruling tribe, who simply refer to themselves as the Darkwood Tribe in disregard for the other griffons that make their residences in these woods, have long fought to keep their hold over their neighbors. Griffon politics are power politics in the most literal sense of the word, and only the strong earn the right to govern the weak. For the past 127 years, that right has rested with the chiefs of the Darkwood Tribe. But even now, it seems their hold on their vassals is crumbling. A defeated master is rarely a strong master in the eyes of the monsters, and though all their beaks are bloodied, the vassal tribes grow restless.

The Darkwood Tribe is a collection of a few hundred griffons, many of them hens and fledglings. The town is almost one with the forest around it, as its inhabitants do not often clear the trees around their homes, only striking down enough lumber as they deem necessary, and never all in one place. Apparently, such measures are taken as a matter of stealth and precaution; it makes it harder for raiding parties to spot their village from the air, and if they can force their opponents to fight on the ground, the advantage will slide to the defenders, who can turn the buildings and terrain against an attacking force. Now, however, many of these buildings were simply empty or occupied by widows who seek no pity, particularly not from pegasi, the ‘prey-beasts’ as they’re so fond of calling us. Perhaps it is only a fitting irony that the prey were able to collectively throw down the predators and leave their lands in such a state of ruin that they shall never challenge us again [2].

[2]: Perhaps Aureus’ words carry a bit of melodramatic weight to them, but he is correct in one assessment: by the end of the High Noon War, the vast majority of the griffon lands were left in ruin. Cirran legions would burn supply depots and farms alike, attempting to starve and force a violent population into submission, and they fought tooth and nail with the larger tribes to destroy their authority and cause their vassals to rebel against them. The actions of this campaign left horrific casualties in their wake, decimating the adult male griffon population and leaving a tercel to hen ratio of 1:3 by its conclusion.

When our carriage set down in an open clearing just north of the village, we were greeted to emptiness. It seemed that none of the griffons that inhabited this small village wanted to step outside to see us, and felt that if they could not fight us without being slaughtered to the last, then they would inconvenience us by forcing us to wait. Ultimately, the centurion had his soldiers start banging on the doors of the griffon huts to bring their population out for a full counting and to officiate the delivery of census records to my hooves. The entire population of this one tribe soon stood before me, my family, and my lictors in front of their great communal hut.

An older griffon stepped forth from the assembled crowd. I was informed that his warpaint marked him as the elder of the tribe, and his wife and only child followed him as he climbed the steps towards me. I could sense the anticipation in the crowd; this griffon was their leader, and all of the monsters wanted to know what he would do next. Would he spit in my face and try to split my throat with his claws? Or would he bow down like the beaten dog that he was?

When he finally stood on level with me and my lictors, his sunken red eyes glared at me like coals. I knew in that moment that he would’ve liked nothing more than to rend me limb from limb. In response, my lictors tensed, ready to cut him down before he could cross the mere wing flaps that separated us. But it was needless worry, even if we were surrounded by bloodthirsty creatures. He submissively bowed his head and handed over a bundle of scrolls. One of my lictors seized them and returned them to me for safekeeping, and I placed them securely within my robes. He said something in his tongue that a lictor translated to me as showing his submission to Imperial rule, and then he withdrew back to his people. I could tell from the weight in the air that his time as leader of the Darkwood Tribes was swiftly coming to an end [3].

[3]: Four years later, a tercel in the Darkwood tribe by the name of Eboric fathered twins, a rare feat for any griffon family, which usually births and rears one child at a time. Seeing his twins as a sign of favor from his ancestors, Eboric won over the leadership of the Darkwood tribe before challenging its old chief, a timid tercel by the name of Miron, to a duel. Eboric killed the old chief and in turn became the new chief of the tribe, a well-received change of leadership for his people. Miron had held his warriors back to limited guerilla actions in the war to try and protect his people, but such tactics were seen as cowardly and dishonorable, and the tribe was attacked and nearly destroyed by a cohort from the Third Legion in the waning days of the fighting regardless. In the end, he had saved no more lives than if he had fought boldly and bravely from the beginning as was expected of him, and his weak leadership had nearly cost the tribe all of its vassals and allies.

My business thusly concluded, I wished for little more than to take my family and leave the backwoods of the griffon heartlands, but we would be treated to another spectacle before we managed to leave. Not long after I verified the contents of the scrolls and personally inspected the property and holdings of each tercel in the village, the First Cohort of the Fourth Legion descended upon the town, some five hundred pegasi in total. I was met by the legate of the Fourth, who, after assuring that I had completed my task with no difficulty, once more reassembled the congregation of griffons. The townspeople, now twice humiliated in the same day, glared at the legate as he repeated to them through a translator the terms of their surrender and the laws they would now have to abide by in service to the Empire. He instructed that hostages would be taken from the nobles of the Darkwood tribe and all of its vassals in order to ensure compliance with the articles of surrender. In addition, the griffon granary reserves were to be emptied to 1/4th capacity, with all excess being redirected to Nimbus and the other areas of the Empire’s east that had been worst hit by the war. I wondered if in five years, there would be anything of the Darkwood left to count in the next census. It seemed to me that the legate intended on starving an already spent populace into extinction through the winter. But it is not my place to comment on such punitive matters as seen necessary by the Legion.

Of course, as was to be expected, his decree was not received well by the local population. Though they said nothing, I could see it in their eyes. Many of them, hens included, actively sought ways to slaughter us down to the last, despite our superior numbers and arms. Tercels clutched at knives and daggers hanging from their belts or merely flexed their talons in the soft earth of their village. But not a move was made, and for that I was thankful. I did not wish for my dear wife to witness horrible bloodshed like this, as any assault of a griffon upon our soldiers would likely have ended in a massacre of the village as our legionaries cut them down where they stood.

With the humiliation of the griffons complete, the legate of the Fourth dismissed them back to their hovels, which the defeated population readily accepted, quickly filing out and disappearing into the shadows within. It was a strange feeling to be looking upon a town in such state, for all appearances a ghost town with the exception of the shadowy figures that watched us through the windows of their homes. There was no sign of daily life to be seen, and I knew that it would continue until us pegasi took our leave. But with the Fourth still camped in the middle of the griffon heartlands, I doubted that life would ever return to normal for the griffons here.

As it was growing late by the time that my business in the Darkwood tribe was concluded, we once more set off again, looking for a safe place away from the griffon settlements to make camp. As I had feared from the beginning, however, our travels through the heartlands were not to remain unmolested forever. It was with bitter irony, or perhaps resulting from, that after our leave of the Darkwood tribe and the double humiliation of the griffons in this area that we were assaulted that night by a band of griffon reavers. The commotion woke me from my sleep, and though I ventured forth from my tent to see what was going on, I wisely kept my family safely concealed within. All around me, a fierce battle waged between the legionaries of our escort and a large pack of brigands and raiders. It was a terrifying sight, and not one that I had seen for a long time, not since my service many years ago [4]. Though I did not have to participate in the fighting, and though it was not a desperate struggle given the training and discipline of our fine legionaries, it still left a sizable number of dead after the fact, mostly amongst the griffons.

[4]: Military service, while not necessarily a requirement for pegasi when the Empire was at peace, was all but mandatory for a pegasus looking to advance their political career. With the amount of pride that Cirra placed on its Legion and serving in the Legion, a politician who had never fought for the glory of the empire would not stand a chance in an election against one who had. Aureus was a middle-aged pony when he became Censor, and had likely joined the Legion at a young age, fought with distinction, and then followed a path into a successful career in Cirran politics.

When the chaos had finally settled, and the surviving marauders either scattered or taken captive, the centurion of our escort quickly organized burial detail and began to question the griffon prisoners. In terms of numbers, we had lost twenty-seven of our sixty-four pegasus escort, while no fewer than forty dead tercels littered the grounds around the fort. Our brave, fallen warriors were cleaned up and buried, their papers taken so their families could be informed, while the griffon reavers were thrown in a ditch where their kin could collect them later if they so chose.

But as for the captives, I was later informed by the centurion shortly after their executions that they had been organized by some of the Darkwood vassal tribes to strike at us as we left, similar to a child throwing a tantrum and attempting to exact petty revenge upon a father after a scolding. The responsible tribes were identified by the war paint of the griffons who participated in the attack, and a legionary was sent to dispatch this information to the legate of the Fourth. I knew that the problem would be dealt with come morning, and so I slept easier knowing that justice would be done for the soldiers that had fallen. I did adjust my census records accordingly, striking out the names and numbers of the griffons in the offending tribes [5].

[5]: As referenced earlier, the Legion was all too eager to exact harsh reprisals upon the subjugated griffons in instances such as these. What Aureus quite clearly says here, albeit in a roundabout way, is that the offending vassal tribes would be wiped from the face of the earth in retaliation for the murders of Cirran legionaries and an attempted assault on an official carrying imperium. Whether these villages would be exterminated to the last fledgling or decimated and sold into slavery, we do not have enough information to say.

After a final tally of the griffon numbers, I was able to put a rough estimate on their population in the central heartlands to around 200,000 hybrids. Whether these numbers are accurate is anypony’s guess, much less my own, given how they tend to fluctuate on a daily basis. It is my belief that they will be inaccurate within six months, but it is not my duty to fret about that. My duty is merely to collect and record population and property figures, and that is what I have strived to do since embarking upon this journey.

With the bloodshed and fright of the previous night behind us, we set off again at the break of wan to press our way over the mountains and into Angenholt itself. I have never visited the capital of Gryphus, and I look forward to it with a sense of excitement and worry. There, more than anywhere else, the griffons are clustered closer together, and even though we have stationed both the Third and the Fifth Legions in the city to keep it under control, there are simply too many griffons to police effectively. I sense great danger in this seat of griffon power, beaten and bloodied by our last war, but undoubtedly not yet broken. It will be my duty as Censor, now more than ever, to determine just how strong that seat is, and if it will ever be able to challenge our dominion over the griffons.