Horizon

Horizon |~| Chapter 2

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Through the haze of his troubled sleep, Erod's mind slowly began to register existence. Opening his eyes, his brain was assaulted by sunlight glaring through the window. Clenching them shut again, Erod raised a hoof to rub at his eyes. With his vision shielded, the culprit was clear.

Wren had pulled the shades aside to let the light into his room. She looked over at him, a sheepish grin spread across her face. He laughed a little, despite his annoyance. It was hard to be mad at her so soon after reuniting and it was getting a bit late in the morning to be asleep anyways.

He rolled out of his bed, sloppily laying the blanket back in place, as Wren made her way to the front room. After briefly stretching his sleep off and brushing his mane into decent condition, Erod crossed into the parlor after the griffon. Laid at the table was a light meal for the morning. A plate of biscuits, a jar of preserves and spice tea were the bulk of it, with some greens on the side.

"Thanks," Erod managed, his voice rough with dryness. After a mouthful or two of the tea, grimacing from the heat of it in his dry throat, he was able to speak properly. "When did you learn to cook?" he asked, dragging one of the biscuits his way.

"Oh, I just sort of picked it up. And you said I'd never manage it," she remarked, puffing her chest out a bit sarcastically. He'd tried to teach her how to prepare food on their travels, but the best she'd ever managed was a gritty, grey mush that was better suited for use as glue than as food. Not a complaint would be heard from behind his lips about her new found skill though. It would be a relief not having to prepare every meal on the road.

They enjoyed the breakfast, laughing over stories and jokes and generally having a good time. With the emotional turmoil that had plagued his sleep now rendered trivial, the day seemed like it would be genuinely pleasant through and through. Erod helped to clean up after the meal, not wanting to leave his friend with all of the work. While Wren's new found skill in cooking was appreciable, she had still left a bit of a mess in the kitchen and cleaning was not her forte

With their little feast over and the mess conquered, Erod was able to set about packing his gear and did just that. Saving the contents of his musty trunk for last, Erod went about collecting the odds and ends for the journey. Remembering well what he liked to carry, he was able to track down, with the help of his feathered friend of course, much of what he would need.

Some of the supplies were not to be found, either used or thrown out previously, and would need to be replaced at some point. Sooner, if Erod could help it. They were not entirely necessary items, but they were ones he knew he'd miss if he didn't come by some, like rope or a thick needle for leather and such, if he needed to patch something or replace a strap on some gear.

With the majority of his accoutrements stored in his pack or lain nearby and mid-day threatening to roll past, Erod pulled the chest out from the wall where he had stowed it the night before. Wren at his side, he undid the clasps and, with a bit more resolve this time, opened the trunk. Prepared for the torrent of emotion brought on by the memorabilia, Erod was able to sift through the contents steadily enough.

The chest’s residents were from his life as a wanderer. They’d been relegated to their dark home after he had set up his on the hill. The first to be removed from the container was his traveling cloak. It was faded now, its color a greying memory of the rich green it had first been dyed. Next he extricated his old iron dagger. Spears and pole arms had been his weapon of choice for most situations and still would be, but in rowdy bars and tight spots that dagger, nearly a foot in length overall, had serviced him well.

Following that, he removed his belt and an assortment of leather and woolen pouches, bags, purses and other such receptacles. Among these was a gourd, secured in a bout of dark humor by a small noose around its neck, for water. From under all that leather he began to remove components of his armor. As he held each piece in his hooves, he examined every strap, weld, rivet, plate and buckle for damage or weakness. Once satisfied that rust and his belly were the only enemies the armor would have to deal with, he set it amongst its companion gear.

The armor was rather cheap as far as armor goes. Instead of well fitted plates with minimal joints and chain mail to go under, it consisted of overlapped iron plates, riveted to leather straps. Padded with wool under the plates and straps, the armor was wearable on marches and provided a fair amount of protection against arrows and blades, although serviced poorly against maces and other blunt impacts. The joints and gaps between plates were hazardous, but he couldn’t afford a better set then and that hadn’t changed, so this would have to do.

Scraping the bottom of the chest, Erod was just about finished digging the gear out. Remaining were some spare leather strips, some wool and leather for gear repair, a tin of grease for leather care and some foreign currency. The money was Skalvenic, which didn’t surprise Erod. His and Wren’s last escapade had ended on the northern border of the changeling homeland.

Skalven bordered Equestria on the south. Tensions had always been high between the two nations due to the natural conflict between the changeling diet and pony emotional spectrum, but they had managed to maintain relatively clear trade routes. The last venture Erod and Wren had been on together had revolved around a pegasus warlord who had restricted one such route, charging outlandish border fees and nearly inflaming a small war between the local lords. Saving that adventure for another time, the important thing is that both Erod and Wren each left it with one of his leather pouches half full of Skalvenic silvers.

These coins, best distinguished from their same-metaled Equestrian counterparts by the four-point star cut out from the center, were useless outside their home province itself or the towns just outside its border. Both governments higher leaders had refused to exchange either currency for the other, claiming that it would hurt the respective domestic economies too much to warrant the benefits. Due to this rare burst, for the governments of the lands were often reasonable, of bureaucratic idiocy, Erod found it useful to keep a few foreign coins on hoof when he traveled about.

After packing everything in his pack save the armor and dagger, which would need cleaning to remove the rust that had developed upon them, he dropped the Skalvenic silvers into one of the wool coin purses and a hoof-full of Equestrian bits into the other. He cinched these tight and strapped them to his belt now, so he wouldn’t forget about it later. The chest was closed and replaced in the cellar, now entirely emptied out.

With Wren’s help, Erod retrieved a cask of oil and scrubbing supplies from the cellar. Moving everything into the parlor, in preparation for cleaning the rust from his metallic items, he only just took notice of the sun’s position in the sky. By this time, darkness was about to set in and the pair agreed to set the chore aside for the next day, since they were under no time constraints. After a dinner of rye flatbread, potato soup and a bit of wine, they turned in for the night to their respective beds

The next day began a bit more softly for Erod, since he was no longer so shaken, and he rose shortly after the sun. Following another cheery breakfast, he and his guest set about scrubbing his armor and dagger to remove some of the rust. It would take a good deal more scrubbing and long-term care on top of that to return the armor to its former glory though. But, just removing the majority of the pesky oxidized residue would suffice and would prevent them from spending too long on just that one task.

Although the dagger was no longer so rusted, it would still need to be sharpened before it would be truly useful in a fight. If he had any say in the matter though, Erod would prefer some variation of a long pointy stick. Fortunately, spears were cheap and easy to come by just about anywhere. There wasn’t too much to a simple one besides a wood shaft and a bit of sharp metal on the end, and that was assuming he didn’t just cut a tree branch and sharpen that until he could purchase a decently made one. So, he would have no problem getting his hooves on a comfortable weapon, once they visited a nearby town.

Cleaning the gear and other general preparation ate up the rest of the day and passing the time was greatly eased by chat and discussion. A portion of the talk revolved around the finer details of whatever it was that had possessed Wren to leave her home. It was no trivial distance, to come this far south and seek Erod out again. Posing the question to her, he thought a bit about how little he knew of the trip and Wren’s motives. He trusted her, with his life, but he was simply curious about it all.

“I couldn’t stay home longer. Maybe it’s just in my blood Erod, but I can't stay still that long. Traveling was all I really knew; all we really knew, and when I realized that I came to invite you along."

That didn’t surprise him. After traveling with her, he knew how easily she got restless. “And you came all this way without gear?” he asked. She had arrived void of pack, supplies or armor. All she’d come with was the old family sword belted around her middle and a few pouches on a wide-cut style flank harness, a common apparatus used in her day as opposed to the modern saddle bags now in use.

The harness itself consisted of a belt circling each thigh with a third belt crossing over the lower back to connect the two. There were many variations on this rig, but the uses were fairly universal. Pouches, purses and weapons could be securely strapped to them and it was also common to see them used as a base to armor the flanks and lower back. Some of the designs used multiple, thinner straps while others preferred fewer wide ones, such as Wren’s did.

“No, hardly," she said doggedly. "I brushed into a gaggle of thugs a couple of days north and figured that my life was probably worth more than my supplies. They got busy scuffling over who should get what from the pack after I’d handed it over and I took the chance to flee.”

Erod sighed with relief. "Well, I'm glad you're alright. Should we replace your pack now? I think I've got enough material here to make a new one."

Tired at just the memory of it all, she replied dismissively "Believe me, I'm just as glad as you are." After a bit of consideration, Wren next addressed his question. "I don't think I'll need one just yet. It's not far at all to Brinsaddle and we'll be able to replace it there."

Satisfied with that, he began polishing away at a particularly stubborn patch of rust. "So, what's the nature of this little venture of yours?" He’d really prefer to know what he was getting into, at least vaguely, before they went gallivanting away across field and stream. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Wren, because he did, but there was always that desire to know what was coming. Even if the knowledge would provide no advantage on his part after they set off, it would comfort him a bit to know what lay ahead.

"Well, that's just it Erod," Wren said, a motivated, excited sort of grin spread across her beak, her eyes shining, a sparkle in them. She’d always worn that geared-up expression when she got thinking about her goals or anything else that really got her pumped. He silently savored that look, because it was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen, back in the day all the way up until now. But he’d never tell that to her, although it was amusing to imagine the look she might have shot his way if he did.

"I don't know,” She continued dreamily. “I'd thought to myself, 'Self, what do you think would be a good way to rekindle that old sense of adventure?' and what better way than to set out on a path with no destination?" she finished with a pat of her talon, on a plate of armor she had been working on, and a chuckle.

After a share in the humor and a bit of consideration, enough time for Erod to finally rid the metal of that pesky spot of rust, he decided that he liked the sound of that plan. Or what of a plan it actually was. There wasn't much in the world that could quite compete with the mystery and freedom of truly wandering. With no goal in mind, the duo would be free to go wherever they chose and to take up whatever jobs they wished, all on a whim. Besides, could he honestly find a better source of adventure to trust than a friend who talks to herself for advice?

Their conversation was mostly concerned with their departure and what places they were interested in seeing on the road or things they would like to do. While they were going to be wandering about, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t have any small goals and places to go. Due to the subject matter of the talk, their moods had really spiked and neither could help but be excited. However, they did have to eat at some point and with the entirety of Erod’s metalline gear now ready to go and laying with his pack in wait, he set about preparing them a dinner.

The main course consisted of a hash made from yams, celery and some pumpkin seeds, all sautéed in a dash of heather-infused oil. With a fragrant entrée prepared, he would need a suitable side dish. To fulfill this position, he sliced some bread, leftover from the a few days ago, on the bias and toasted it in the range. As a topping, he prepared a tapenade with some mixed flowers in addition to its standard olive base, anchovies and capers. The tapenade had been an acquired taste for Erod, as it was not a standard foodstuff among the ponies and goats of the time. The catching, sale and eating of fish and other meats was against the Canons of the Church. The punishments were harsh and, unlike the government's, much more consistent in delivery.

The Church itself had not lasted into the princesses' later rule. Some of their practices had, however, such as the exclusion of flesh-based food from the diet. Because of their influence and oppressive directives, most of the pony and goat settlements did not have a market in fish or other meats whatsoever. The eating of chicken meat, eggs or other small animals would be common in pony and goat cultures if not for the Church, but the slaughter of cows and such still would not. The natural connection between such creatures and the more sentient races was too intimate for them to eat the flesh of one another. A pony eating beef was as close to cannibalism as it could be. But fish, chicken, rabbit, squirrel, lizard and such were not quite so close to the hearts of those lands. Erod’s years of wandering and current isolation had left him with some resistance to the indoctrination of the Church and so he did partake of such protein-rich foods upon occasion.

Tapenade had, in fact, been introduced to him by Wren herself. The Church had no hold over the folk of Griffonland or Skalven, as the former was beyond the Church’s arm of influence and it was not uncommon for a Church priest to be stoned to death or hung in the center of town, at the end his own sash, by changelings of the latter. The preaching, beliefs and actions of the Church had earned them a harsh reputation across the lands and while they had their supporters, many outsiders were prone to violent action against the Church and its members. Due to the lack of influence in their homelands, the griffons and changelings both held thriving markets in fishing, although the feathered batch had a naturally high skill in fishing that the changelings lacked.

What this all meant for Erod was that fish products, such as jarred anchovies, were rare and rather expensive in Equestria and especially this far inland. It was fortunate that the anchovies the merchants brought in were preserved so well and sold secretly, as the Church would persecute any offenders of any of their protocol with loss of the tongue, followed by the eyes and then the ears, should the offender repeat. You would eventually be whipped, or by some similarly painful methodology, to death. The sentence of death was never issued as “For the ingestion of flesh” but rather as “Repeated breach of the Church Canons”. It was looked upon as an encouragement of rebellion and was swiftly dealt with. The Church took its Canons very seriously.

With all of the trouble caused by the Church and her recent trip down, the tapenade was a pleasant treat for Wren, used to eating fish as she was. Glad to have it after her travels and to be sharing it with Erod, it was already clear that the night was going to be great fun. In the midst of the meal, the toasted gold griffon excused herself to the cellar, instructing her friend to stay at the table, and all with that cute little grin to boot. After a moment of silence and a couple more that involved a lot of clattering and thumping from below, Wren emerged with a cask of cider to celebrate. Erod wasn’t about to protest, so he retrieved two mugs and filled the first round. With a toast to their health, wanderings ahead and good fortune, the two put the mugs to their lips and quaffed the alcohol, beginning their celebration of the night’s youth.