For the People of Prywhen
Thus it is the right of every creature to enjoy their own well-being, and to benefit from the fruits of their labour. The aim of the socialist state in Prywhen will be to dismantle the feudal claws that still hold many griffons in the continent under their yoke, and free the workers from hard labour. Technological innovation will lead to automation, which will decrease working hours while at the same time increasing prosperity.
-Filip Redglad, Chairgriffon of the Prywhenian Communist Party. (The Conquest of Rice, published 1011)
The bucolic atmosphere of the Prywhenian countryside was still pleasing, despite the ongoing winter. The snow had stopped to fall just a few hours ago, and left the ground; trees and everything else with a significant coating of white. Many griffons, familiar with the idea of Prywhen through its most famous southern port of Sydia, assumed that it was too hot for any large quantity of snow to fall in the country, even in the coldest months.
This was, of course, wrong. Prywhen's north had a temperate climate that could get cold starting in fall and, more generally, a cold front from Hellquill or Lake City swept down the entire Evi River valley every winter, causing quite the snowstorm through the country, even down to Sydia. Despite this, good prayers to the goddesses Eviliana and Eyr would protect griffons from the most harmful effects of the freak weather, it was thought.
All trees were empty of any leaves and the air without sound, natural movement absent from the landscape as many animals were hibernating and birds roosting. Except for a lone magpie. The bird was flying from tree to tree, before it perched on a branch near a walking path, the snow cover barely distinguishing it from the rest of the ground. The magpie looked around with its black eyes, as if looking for something.
Then a loud boom broke the stillness of the countryside.
The magpie barely had time to make a sound or fly before it fell to the ground. A large hole had ripped through the bird's body, leaving a small though still bloody scene on the white of the snow. A griffon approached the dead magpie, picking up the body with his black talons. The griffon grinned before turning to his companion, which was slowly walking towards him.
"See?" the griffon said. "I told you I could do it."
"Good shot," the other griffon acknowledged. "But was that really necessary, Andrei? The poor bird was probably looking for food. Not too different from you ten years ago." The griffon sighed, before crossing his forelegs.
"I did the same thing ten years ago," Andrei stated. "Besides, you challenged me to it, Simu. Don't try to shame me on this. We both lose this dare then."
"Yeah, yeah." Simu gave a small laugh, before looking at the spot the magpie fell and raising an eyebrow. "Now that I think about it, comandant is going to have our tails if he learns about us wasting supplies on shooting birds." Simu's eyes turned dark. "Or worse, good black powder and musket balls are rare enough as they are."
Upon the griffon's last words, Andrei's vision turned dark for a moment as well, and his eyes grew large at the realization. "Uhh..." he struggled for a few seconds to speak. "Maybe we can say that we saw a Royalist patrol nearby. Or that Lushians were invading the country."
"No, you fool." Simu's somberness turned into anger. They're never going to believe that, Andrei. Royalists don't exist anymore near here, and the Lushians are too busy in their own problems to invade." The griffon slammed his talon into the ground, flattening the snow below it. "Damnit."
"Hey, hey, don't worry." Andrei tried to reassure the griffon by placing a talon on his shoulder. "We're going to find the musket ball. It shouldn't be too deformed from a bird. Come with me," he said.
Simu looked at Andrei for a second or two, before slowly nodding. "Sure... if you can find it on the snow."
Andrei looked at the place where the magpie perched before he had killed it, and narrowed his eyes as he looked beyond the tree, trying to estimate the place where the musket ball probably ended up. He gestured to Simu to follow him with one claw, and took off to flight.
Andrei flew to the place he guessed the musket ball ended up. It was a clearing in the forest they were located in, with only a few leafless bushes interspersed through it. A small creek, still running despite the cold weather, ran through it and into the deep forest. Andrei started to look for the musket ball, turning and looking at the ground in all directions.
"Tell you what," he said. "If you find it, I'll give you one idol. The idol. Not just any old coin."
"Really?" Simu looked at Andrei with his eyebrows raised. "Where did you even get an Imperial coin? Did you steal it?" The griffon rubbed his talons together, either from the prospect of gaining money or from the frigid temperature.
"No," Andrei said. "But my aunt, she... had a job helping move goods to and from Sydia. One time, she went up the Evi, to Lushi; Longsword and all these places to transport some sugar from Zebrica to Griffenheim. Probably for some fat noble. Anyway, she finished the job. They paid her in idols, she gave some to my mom as a gift. Not bad, actually."
"Yeah, that's actually pretty good," Simu said, before smiling. "Alright, I'll help you find it."
Andrei nodded before continuing to search for the musket ball. He moved closer to the ground, the griffon utilizing his sharp eyes to their maximum potential in an effort to find it. However, after ten minutes of searching there was still no sign of the musket ball anywhere. Lowering his ears and closing his eyes, Andrei slowly glided towards the ground, beginning to accept the fact that he might not find it at all.
His eyes quickly reopened as he heard Simu's voice.
"Hey!" he shouted. "I think I found it!"
Andrei's face lighted up as he zoomed towards where Simu was. The griffon was crouched over, looking next to the snow near a bush. Simu was digging the snow out of the place he was investigating, grabbing talonfulls of snow with his bare claws. He regretted this though, as he was soon enough clenching his talons together and putting them close to the fur and feathers of his body.
"Really?" Andrei asked him, grinning.
Simu shivered. "I-I think its just below the snow, I saw the hole in it. Dig it out a little more, the w-wind probably buried it."
Andrei landed on the ground, and began to dig with his claws where Simu left behind. After ten seconds of digging snow and rubbing his talons against his body to warm them, he finally found it: a dark gray ball, around fifteen millimeters in size, laid on top of the hard, brown and frozen dirt. A wide smile formed on Andrei's beak, and he picked the ball up, inspecting it: there no deformities present on it. He turned to Simu.
"Yes!" Andrei shouted. "We're saved!" the griffon moved quickly to shake Simu's near-frozen talons. "Thank you."
"Hey, no problem," Simu said. "You owe me that idol now though." He laughed. "Might afford some new talons."
"Yeah, I do," Andrei said, before sighing. "Though... thank you, really. You probably just saved both our tails. The black powder, on the other claw..." Andrei looked grimly at the horizon.
"I think... I hope, if we have the musket ball, they're not going to complain about the powder. Gods know we will need it soon," Simu sat on the ground near the bush, putting his talons inside his uniform's pockets. "Though, they're probably not even going to notice it missing."
"Hmm?" Andrei hummed. "What we will need more for? Apart from normal 'civil war' needs, of course..." he looked at Simu bleakly.
"I overheard comandant the other night, talking to Theresa. They're planning to put us on some mission. Evi knows what one. Frontline against the Royalists?" he asked Andrei.
"Theresa?" Andrei asked in shock. "She's the leader of almost all the forces! Its probably very important, then. Though I hope its not frontline... I'm all for hanging Kloseu as any griffon, but what I've heard from some of the griffs returning from there makes it sound bad. Very bad."
Simu nodded. "Yeah, I hear you." The griffon then narrowed his blue eyes and looked at Andrei. "Why did you join the militia? You know I did because most griffons I know did it as well but... I realized I haven't asked you, Andrei."
Andrei stared blankly ahead before sighing. "Yeah. Kind of the same situation as you. E-except for some differences." He clutched the bag he had near his wing before continuing to speak.
The griffoness laid the large bowl on top of the table, the wooden appearance of it matching her own fur and feather colours; and the colours of much of the house for that matter. The griffoness looked at the table, before poking through a hole in the flower-style tablecloth. She sighed. It had served the house well for many years, but it now looked that the cloth was soon going to be beyond repair. Already it had many distinctly coloured textures and shapes sewed into it – the result of previous fixes.
Two smaller griffons sat at the table. The largest of them looked at the female griffon and lowered his eyebrows. Clearing his throat, the griffon moved the spoon he had been given around the table before speaking. There was no other noise in the room, apart from the griffon's own voice, which struggled to come out.
"Mamă, a-aren't you going to eat? You only gave us two bowls," he said. The griffon circled the bowl in front of him with his claw, producing a scratching noise and leaving a faint mark on its texture.
The griffoness turned to look at the griffon. She smiled softly and began patting him on the head, running her talons through his head's feathers. "Oh Andrei..." the griffoness said. "Don't worry about me. I will eat later. You and your sister just go first. There are many beaks to feed after all," she reassured him.
Andrei mirrored his mother's smile, hoping to believe her words. He turned his eyes towards his younger sister, who hadn't payed much attention to the conversation. In fact, she had already served herself a generous portion of the steaming rice inside the larger bowl. The griffoness left the room, leaving the two young griffons alone.
He grimaced though, as he quickly noticed something: unlike the rest of the times they ate rice – which was most of the time these days – there was only a good portion of salt to accompany it. Little oil, and no pepper. Andrei sighed. There was a nice spice merchant who came to sell at a very low price but of respectable quality, which is rare for a griffon. Nicolae, he remembered his name. However, the last time he had seen him come to his village was a little over two months ago.
The lack of pepper meant that his family had probably run out of it. He silently lamented this to himself as he served some rice to his bowl, not forgetting to grab some pinches of salt with his claws and some oil. Pepper would make this taste much, much better. It was one of these products that he felt were justified in being so expensive – except for Mr. Nicolae's, Eviliana bless him, wherever he was.
The two ate their rice mostly in silence. Mostly, because his younger sister, Elena, had asked him about today's lesson. Of course, as the oldest sibling, he had to help his parents educate his sister. The temple school of his village had closed just one year ago, citing 'domestic concerns'. Now, it was too dangerous to even teach, and families had to pick up the slack.
"It will be about the Gods," Andrei said, responding to Elena's question.
His sister smiled and moved her legs back and forth in excitement. "Really? That's great! I was wondering when it was going to happen. It was the best subject, for sure."
Andrei gave a small grin at Elena's excitement, and patted her head with one talon. Even with all the happenings, she still found a way to be happy at the world. From the little time she had spent there, she had latched at the temple's schooling message, naturally focused towards religion and the Gods. He found it uplifting, as faithful prayers would prevent any more food shortages from threatening any more griffon's lives. He had already seen the hunger take his family's neighbours nine years ago, despite all the help they tried to give them.
Andrei did not want to see that again.
After their small conversation, the two continued to eat the rice in silence. Somehow, the lack of talk was both stifling and relaxing for him. No sound meant there was nothing bad happening, but it could also mean that there was nothing bad happening because the 'bad' wasn't manifesting itself, or it could also mean that it was stalking.
Half hour later, Andrei was rummaging his room's cabinet. He was searching for a book the temple teachers had kindly donated them before they left. He still did not understand why they did. After all, the temples were present in almost everygriff's life since, well, as long as he could remember. He did pick up some possible reasons though, just from a subtle change of direction of his ears when listening to the other griffons in the village. An assassination; 'freedom fighters'; and emergency powers. If he had to guess, it was connected to one or all of these things.
He shook these thoughts out of his mind, at least for the time being, and focused on finding the book. The cabinet wasn't large, but it was filled with all sorts of random articles he had thought missing months ago. Finally, he found it next to an old, dusty mirror. He examined the book: it looked new, with no torn pages or scratched covers, which was remarkable for something handled so often by young griffons. He took it together with the mirror, as it could also still be useful. He just needed to wash it, and it would be good as new.
Andrei walked, book and mirror in claw, back to the table where Elena was. However, midway through his way back, the picked up the sound of voices coming from the front room. They were his parent's voice, of course, but it sounded like they were discussing. Forgetting about the book and Elena, Andrei placed his talon on the door and leaned on it, placing his ear on the wood. There, he picked up the voices more clearly.
"Constantin... " his mother's voice said. "Is it really necessary for you to go and be with those griffons? Think of what would happen if got hurt, or worse! What about Andrei, or your daughter?"
"Oh, Ana..." his father said. "I know the risks. What they'll probably do to me if they catch me. But can we really continue like this? Work for a tyrant King until we die from either starvation, old age or exhaustion? Would that be better for us, or for our children?"
"No. It won't be better," his mother stated. "All I can say is... there has to be a better way than this. To organize ourselves. But doing this, we would ruin what we already have. And Eviliana knows what would happen to us or the other griffons after, if we lose."
"If we lose," his father raised his voice."Do you think he can continue forever like this, crushing everygriff under his claw. No. The chance for a 'better way' ended a long time ago. And you know it too. You saw our neighbours die."
Andrei gasped at the mention of his neighbour's deaths, the unwelcomed memory coming at the front of his brain once again. This was before he also noticed a 'thump' sound fill the room he was in. Andrei looked at the floor, and his eyes widened. The book had slipped from the hold it had between the mirror and his arm, and was now on the floor.
Hoping his parents hadn't noticed the two sounds he just had made, Andrei pressed into the door closer so he could balance himself. Lowering against the ground, he picked the book up from it and put it again next to the mirror and his arm.
Then the door opened.
Andrei's squawk of surprise and shock was only met in volume with the sound of the book, and especially the mirror, crashing against the floor. The 'thump' of his own body meeting the ground also soon followed, and he gave a small yelp as the pain of hitting the surface reached his brain.
Opening his eyes and rubbing his right arm – which had received the full brunt of the fall – he dared to look up at what was the closed door just a few moments ago.
His eyes meet the dissaproving gaze of his mother, the griffoness' rose-coloured eyes looking at him with a stern look, but which still carried some of the worry and fear that her voice manifested earlier talking to his father. Speaking of his father, Constantin was just behind his mother, alternating between looking at Andrei and Ana.
Finally, after a long silence as Andrei laid on the floor and looked at his mother, Ana began to speak.
"Andrei!" Ana exclaimed. "What were you doing listening to us?!"
Andrei opted to avoid looking at his mother directly, instead doing so at the book, which was now next to Ana's talon. "I... uh I w-was going back to the table to teach Elena when I h-heard talking. I just wanted to hear what was happening," Andrei stuttered sheepishly. "I was worried it was somegriff else in the house."
Ana's face softened, even if it was just a little, and she helped lift her son off the ground. "Andrei," she said as she placed him on all fours back again. "Its good to be worried about an intruder, but..." she placed a talon on Andrei's cheek. "It does not give you a right to spy on somegriff's conversat—"
"Why were you discussing with dad?" Andrei blurted out. "You sounded worried."
At this interruption, Andrei's father quickly came over to the two griffons, patting his soon in the head; before smiling reassuringly. "Nothing to be worried about, son." Constantin's beak clicked. "Adult matters that shouldn't worry you."
"But..." Andrei said. "I heard you talking. About our neighbours. Is the same thing going to happen to us?"
Constantin picked up Andrei and hugged him close, with Ana soon following and nuzzling her son with her feathers. "No," his father stated. "As long as we're here... nothing will happen to us." He smiled at Andrei. "I promise."
Andrei grinned and looked at both of his parents. Constantin also smiled and set him back on the floor. Ana then looked at the mirror – or what remained of it. The fall, even if small, had been too much for the old thing, and now its pieces were all near the now useless frame. Andrei's mother picked up one large piece of mirror shard and then looked at her son.
"What you should be worried about is how are you going to clean up the mess that you made, Andrei," his mother said. "Where did you get this mirror, anyway? I haven't seen one like this in the house."
"I found it on my room's cabinet. I thought it would be look nice. I was going to wash it but w-well..." Andrei stuttered out to Ana.
"Well, if you found it, and broke it, even more so," Ana stated plainly. "There's a broom in the kitchen, it should make the clean-up easier."
"But I was going to teach Elena about the Gods today, mom," Andrei said. "She was really excited about it, too."
Just as Andrei mentioned her name, Elena walked into the scene, a look of annoyance on her face. "Hey, Andrei," she said. "What is taking you so long to pick up a book?" she said. Then, she looked at the broken mirror on the floor, and the book near it. "Oh."
Ana smiled and looked at her daughter. "Don't worry about teaching Elena, I can do it while you clean up the mirror pieces." She picked up the book and put on her side. "Let's go, my dear," she said to her. Elena nodded happily before both her and Ana walked out of the front room, and towards the table he was eating at just forty minutes ago.
Constantin then proceeded to pat Andrei on the head again, before grinning. "See you soon, son," he said. The griffon then picked up a saddlebag that was placed next to the house's door. It looked heavy. Andrei's father gave a small wave to his son before leaving the house, leaving Andrei alone in the front room.
Andrei sighed and slowly walked over to the kitchen, resigning himself to the task he had at claw. The kitchen, as the rest of the house, was as brown as the griffons that inhabitated it. A gray wood-fired stove dominated the room, with a few counters and pantries also present – all empty, except for some salt, a little oil, and a large of bread on top of the stove. A medium-sized window opposite the stove gave view to Andrei's village. Currently, there was almost nogriff out, with most griffons inside their homes.
Andrei found the broom on one of the kitchen walls, next to the stove – he cringed at the thought that it could have caught on fire – and examined it. The broom's handle was sturdy, which was good, but its hairs were wiry; inflexible and above all dusty; which wasn't very good. Nevertheless, it would do the job well. He picked at some of the dust bunnies on the broom's hairs and threw them to the floor, before going back to the front room.
He started his work, trying to gather the different mirror pieces together. He picked one up with his claw and looked at it – it was large, perhaps the largest one, and his coral-coloured eyes shimmered as they reflected the light itself reflecting from the mirror. He then threw the mirror piece with the rest of the others. Finally, he grabbed the broken mirror frame and looked at it with sadness before also throwing it with the shards. It had so much potential!
It wasn't long before he had a neat little pile of mirror pieces and floor dust gathered. Andrei began preparing it to be thrown into the trash before he started feeling very brief – but very sharp – stabs of pain in his right paw. Looking at it, he cringed as he saw dozen of tiny mirror pieces stuck to it. He worked with his claw to take them off, but some were just too small to be removed. Sighing, he just accepted that they would come off naturally, somehow, and worked on bring everything back to the kitchen; perhaps focusing his attention away from his paw could help him ignore the pain.
He dragged the pile to the kitchen with the broom, where a flimsy-looking metal dustpan was waiting. Gathering the garbage on it so that he could throw it out, he began heading to the front door.
Andrei began to hear a commotion starting just outside his house.
The griffon rushed to one of the kitchen windows, and climbed atop one of the counters so he could see more clearly what was going on outside. There, a group of griffons in uniform were dragging and even beating another group of griffons through the village. Andrei noticed that the uniformed griffons weren't wearing the relatively simple attire of the constabulary. Instead, these were drab, and more maintained – the Royal Brodfeldan Army.
Andrei also noticed that there was a single griffon, at the front of the group who was being dragged away, that was receiving the most beatings and also was struggling the most. His yellow eyes gave away his identity to Andrei almost immediately.
His father.
Andrei gasped at the sight and sprang out of the counter, hidding behind the sight level of the kitchen's window. The griffon began to shake as he took in the full implications of what he just saw – his father being detained by the Army griffons. Is this what him and his mother were talking about earlier, getting hurt?
He closed eyes and covered them with his talon. Despite his shaking, Andrei was too paralyzed by the shock and the fear to move apart from his spot, lying down almost ground level next to the counter.
His mother also heard the commotion outside, as the unmistakable sounds of Ana's rapid wing beats were coming closer to the front door. Elena also not far behind, as he heard the voice of his little sister asking what was going on; his mother too focused on going outside to actually answer her.
Hearing his sister's voice shook Andrei out of his paralysis, as he felt a sudden rush of energy run through all his extremities. The thought of seeing more of his family being hurt was unnacceptable to the young griffon. Andrei ran to the front room, where he arrived just in time to intercept his mother.
"Mamă! Wait, don't go, you'll get hurt!" Andrei shouted at Ana, grabbing the side of her body with his talons, preventing her from moving.
Ana turned around and looked at her son directly into his eyes. Her gaze was determined, and she grasped his arms with ease, moving them away from her body. "Don't follow me. Watch your sister so she doesn't go outside," she said. Ana then promptly stormed out of the house and into the commotion outside, which was growing larger by the second as more griffons from the village all came out of their houses to see what was going on.
Andrei gulped and looked behind him. His sister was there, also shaking, and with some tears in her eyes. "Brother... what is going on?" she asked him.
"N-nothing," he stuttered out. Andrei reached out a claw and wiped the tears off Elena's eyes before hugging her. "Go to our room and stay there. Now," he commanded. Elena nodded and broke the hug, before running further inside the house.
Andrei also went back into the kitchen, and climbed on the same counter he was a minute ago. This time, he aligned himself just above the window's glass so he could see outside, while a griffon had to be specifically looking for him in order to spot him.
There he cowered as he saw his mother also struggling with the army griffons. Then, the – as Andrei thought it – unthinkable happened as one of the griffons used his baton to hit his mother. He saw Ana let out an expression of pain as she fell to the ground. The sound and chaos outside intensified as the village griffons, angered by the act, began to move closer to the army griffons. Some were even picking up rocks to throw them.
Andrei also felt something explode inside him as he saw the griffons beating up his mother. His mind went blank as the jumped out of the countertop and ran to the flimsy dustpan he left earlier, next to the broom. There, he picked up the same large mirror shard from earlier and looked into its reflection.
He swore he saw his normally coral eyes become blood red in the mirror.
With the shard in claw, he took flight and stormed out into the outside. The riot had become larger and more violent the few seconds he examined himself in the mirror's reflection, and some griffons were now openly attacking the Brodfeldian army griffons with tools or even their bare claws. In the confusion, Andrei spotted the same griffon who had hit his mother with the baton – it appeared as if he was directing the others in controlling the crowd.
Andrei flew faster as he neared towards the bastard who had attacked his mother. He pointed the shard directly at the griffon's neck as he outstretched his arm to its full extent. Nobody messed with his family. And if he had to seriously injure, or even kill somegriff else to prove that, Eviliana be his witness. He prepared himself as he came closer.
Then the griffon turned around.
With a swipe of his sturdy-looking baton, the officer spun Andrei's flight out of control, making him crash a few meters away from him. Andrei grunted in pain and stayed almost frozen as every limb of his body was screaming in pain. He had hit the ground for a second time today. He dared to open his eyes again and look at where his mother was. There, he saw her staring at him, with tears in her eyes – but also anger. Ana shouted something at his son, but Andrei couldn't hear it.
The villagers were now even more angry as they saw the army griffons attack a chick. One of them was on the ground, uniform torn by the villager's claws and blood coming out the holes, but also there were several villagers fallen – either in pain, unconscious or worse. Despite this, the uniformed griffons were successful in dragging his father further to their barred carriage. He didn't want to see as Constantin was being taken away. But he couldn't draw his attention away from the sight.
The officer was now moving closer to Andrei, even though he had directed the others to move away from the crowd and drag Constantin into the carriage. The officer stood next to the fallen Andrei, forcing the young griffon to look at him in the eyes: piercing green ones that took out almost of the energy out of his body, the one that was left, anyway. He touched the pistol at his side for a brief moment before subtly shaking his head, instead grabbing his wooden baton.
"Consider yourself lucky, kid, that I didn't kill you," the griffon said, aiming the baton.
Andrei's vision went white as the wooden baton hit him in the beak with full force – the thousands of sensitive nerve endings in his beak sending signals of excruciating pain to the griffon's brain. Andrei immediately went to cover his face against any more possible hits, yet he felt nothing more, instead only adding to his pain when his talons touched his beak; now possibly broken. This time, the young griffon could only let out a small whimper as the tears began to fall from his eyes.
He remained there, unmoving, for almost fifteen minutes. When Andrei finally managed to move again and look around the village, his father was missing. Taken.
"I never saw him again," Andrei finished. He picked out a photo from his bag, showing it to Simu. In it, his whole family was together. "Some photographer from Sydia came into our village and gifted this for us," he said. "Only image I have of my dad."
Simu placed a talon on Andrei's shoulder, comforting him. "Your father sounded like a good griffon," he said. "Any reason these Royalist bastards took him?" Simu asked.
"I later found out he was organizing other griffons around the village for a protest. About better conditions. They took him, j-just because of that," Andrei said. He looked at the now darkening sky, as if searching for his father in the slowly appearing stars of the night sky. "That's why the moment I turned sixteen I joined the GLA, to honor him. My mother didn't want me to join, but I told her it was necessary."
Simu nodded and looked at him. "I understand. My family didn't want me to join, either, but... there are some things that have to be done." The griffon gave a solemn smile and looked at Andrei. "Your father was a good griffon, don't forget about that. He fought for the cause. For the people of Prywhen."
Andrei reciprocated Simu's nod. "For the people of Prywhen," he said, and closed his eyes for several seconds.
Both griffons silently walked back to base. Their patrol along the Lushian border was over for the day, soon to be taken over by the unfortunate griffons who did the night shift. The gentle snowfall was now over, but it didn't mean that the temperature was warmer. On the contrary, the cold was now more violent as the night began to set in, and Andrei adjusted the scarf going around his neck more tightly.
Finally, after some thirty minutes of walking, both griffons arrived to their destination: the city of White Flower. Headquarters of the Griffon's Liberation Army, and provisional capital of the Prywhen Republic, until Kloseu's supporters were driven out of the land once and for all.
The city was like most in the so-called Griffonian Frontier, looking as it was still the tenth century, with brickwooden houses alternating between sparse on the outskirts of the city and packed near the centre of it. Propaganda posters and drawings littered the walls; carts; and any other surface somegriff could think where it was possible to stick propaganda on. Most of these were recruitment ones, calling griffons for the 'final fight' against the Royalists, triumphantly stating that victory was near. Others were more grim, with caricatures of Royalist atrocities or crimes against the people of Prywhen in full display. The Great Famine was a particular favourite.
White Flower's militarization was also seen in the citizens that inhabitated it. Except of course, normal citizens didn't exist in times like this. In a more primitive version of what other places in the World would call total mobilization, most griffons were either wearing the uniforms of the Worker's and Peasant's Militia; working to defend the city from crime and Royalist infiltrators, or guarding the precious food storages for the army and labourers. The works of the city, the few that had been brought during the short period the region experienced industrialization, were now fully focused on producing more supplies and weapons for the GLA.
Despite this crude but paradoxically well-oiled machine, there was one fatal flaw: the city still lacked electricity. No worries of course, because as Andrei and Simu were nearing their destination, a group of young chicks in white uniforms and red neckerchiefs ran from one street to another, with torches and lamps in their claws. These 'Torchbearers of the Revolution', modelled of Stalliongrad's Pioneers, provided illumination for the residents of White Flower while being granted education and training in return – far more than these young griffons could expect under Kloseu.
An open iron gate welcomed both griffons as their entered the headquarters of the 2nd Peasant's Militia, once the manor of some nobility that had long fled south. The sentry at the game welcomed them, before the two griffons quickly made their way to the Quartermaster's Office, where the manor's basement formely was.
Andrei and Simu entered the office, where the Quartermaster – Ioan, an old peasant leader from Larios – sat in his desk. Both griffons saluted him before they presented their muskets and supplies for return; a talon over the chest, right where the red-and-black star of their uniform was stitched. "Comrade-Officer," Simu said. "Our patrol is done."
Ioan returned the salute before grasping the muskets and the bags of musket balls and black powder. The Quartermaster inspected them, and Andrei gulped as he silently prayed to Eviliana that he didn't notice the missing black powder. Ioan looked at him before speaking. "All in order," he said. "Well done, militiagriffs."
Andrei sighed in relief as both griffons walked out of the basement. "Thank the Goddess he didn't notice, huh?" he asked Simu.
His companion nodded and grinned. "Yeah. You shouldn't have worried. As I said, he's not going to notice some missing powder."
Andrei and Simu then went to the manor's lounge, now converted to an ersatz classroom, with almost all other griffons from the 2nd sitting in chairs along it. While Andrei considered himself lucky to be – mostly – literate, others were not, and the GLA's leadership considered it critical for all militiagriffs to be able to read and write properly. With some of the more advanced skills he had learned from the classroom, he had already penned a few letters to his mother and sister back in his village, writing them of his time in the GLA militia, and telling them not to worry about his safety.
The room went silent as their teacher entered it. Hans Silverplume, a weathered of griffon of Yalish origin. Yale's griffons had experienced a revolution of their own not long ago, and had started an exchange program with the GLA. Always the powerhouse of intellectuals in Griffonia, Yale supplied Prywhen with teachers, while receiving military training from experienced GLA militiagriffs.
As the class started, Silverplume held up a book from his desk. "Anygriff here knows what this is?" he asked the room, gravelly voice echoing off the empty manor walls and windows, stripped of their opulence by the peasants now living in it.
A griffoness raised her claw. "That's Caremel Mark's book, isn't it?" she said.
Silverplume nodded and took off his glasses. "Correct. Not long ago, the ponies of Stalliongrad suffered the same troubles that plague much of Griffonia today, such as bad harvests. But then, they broke the shackles of their tyrant Princess." The griffon grinned. "And now, guided by Mark's principles of a worker's state, they are one of the most advanced nations of the world, leading the way for a new and bright future for all the world's creatures."
The classroom was silent as Silverplume finished his speech. Then, Andrei saw Simu raising his claw. "But I heard that Equestria's Princess was benevolent?" he asked, confused. "Isn't that true?"
Silverplume looked at both Simu and Andrei and shook his head. "No. History has shown many times that monarchy always ends in autocratic dictatorship, no matter how benevolent. One just needs to look at the example of Wingbardy, or Olenia, to see this in action." Silverplume paused to put his pince-bec glasses back again. "It is to kill or be killed, to shot or be shot, as you militiagriffs understand it."
The teacher's words echoed in Andrei's brain as he finished talking.
The militiagriffs dived down and landed against the wall of a ruined wooden house. The light of the full moon shone through the building's holes and the windows that had long lost their glass, giving the inside of it a haunted appearance. From his spot, Andrei could see a cracked table on its middle, a table that could have been the dining place of a family not so long ago.
The griffon breathed into his talons as the winter night cold bit into his body. Simu was right again. His – their – militia group had been picked for a select mission. And Theresa herself had came to brief them together with the group's comandant. However, they were not sent to the frontlines as he expected. Instead, this was more special.
"Attention!" the comandant shouted as he raised a talon. Varujan Stoica was another peasant leader, much like Quartermaster Ioan. However, unlike Ioan, he was not old and relatively solitary. Instead, Stoica had proved himself in several actions against Blackrock's Bandits to the west and Golden Guard squads near Kivessin and his hometown of Temsoar.
A griffon needed to be respected in order to be elected to be a militia officer, after all, and he had done much more than that. "Redglad and Theresa themselves have tasked us with this mission of utmost importance," Varujan said. "Our flying scouts have determined that the Royalists hold a vast supply of weapons and ammunition not far from here." The griffon then looked at all of the twelve others in the eyes one by one. "If we succeed, the Royalists will be dealt a huge blow. And the people of Prywhen will win."
"The people of Prywhen will win!" all griffons shouted, even making a dent in the howling wind's dominance over the atmosphere. The snow had returned once again, and countless quantities of the white snowflakes could be seen falling against the moonlight.
"Comandant," a griffoness, Lexandra, said. "Why have we been chosen for this mission? Would one of the more experienced militiagriff groups do a better job?" she asked Varujan.
The griffon shook his head. "Our best militiagriff groups are being used for the push towards Sydia. While our task is important, capturing the port is even more so." Varujan looked upwards at the moon and raised his talon once again. "They have also selected us because we have done the best in the ricefield trainings. We are the shining example of the common griffon's ability to fight and defend their freedom. Their country." The commander turned his eyes at them once again. "And that we have our tools for that."
At the mention of their 'tools', all griffons present unholstered their weapons. Andrei looked at his musket, stolen from a Royal armoury a few months into the Civil War. He had taken great pains to maintain it properly, and the weapon was devoid any frequent malfunctions. A peasant needed to take good care of his tools, after all. On his breast, next to the red-and-black star, was also a short scythe, adapted to be used for combat.
"We will slowly approach the warehouse, and take the Royalists by surprise," Varujan said. "One griffon will go in front of the rest, while the rest of us take our positions near the building. And I know the perfect griffon to give that task." Varujan turned and looked at Andrei directly into the eyes. "Andrei."
Andrei nearly dropped his weapon into the snow as his name was mentioned. "M-me? comandant?"
Varujan placed a talon on his shoulder. "Yes. You will merge perfectly into the terrain; the Royalists will fail to stop you as you near them." The griffon then unstrapped his weapon and extended it towards Andrei. It looked similar to a musket, but it also looked so different. A bolt-like mechanism was placed on its side, and it was also shorter than his gun. "Hand me over your weapon," Varujan said. "Take mine. It will be far more useful to what you will do."
Hesitating, but not daring to defy Stoica's order, Andrei gave his musket to the commander. He took the new weapon in his claw, looking and examining it. Varujan handed him a bag full not of musket balls, but of bullets in a clip. "Pull back the bolt. Put the clip inside it and then cock the bolt once again. Once you fire, pull it back once again," he explained. "Understood?" he lowered his head to look at Andrei.
Andrei nodded. "Yes, Comrade-Officer." He hadn't processed all of it, but the comandant's rapid explanation at least made him understand the basics. He grabbed the bag of bullet clips and put it inside one of his breast pockets, below the scythe.
Varujan smiled. "Great. Andrei, the warehouse is directly eastwards." He pointed at it with his claw. "Don't be spotted. Once we're in position, I will fire a shot to distract the Royalists. The people of Prywhen count on you. For their freedom," he said. Patting the griffon on the shoulder, Varujan sent Andrei off with his new weapon.
Andrei barely had time to hear Stoica's briefing to the rest of his militiagriffs before the wind's howling dominated the night once again. He quickly made his way through the ruins of the house and eastwards, using the remnants as a way to avoid being seen. It also turned out there were other houses in the area, all forsaken of life as well.
Finally, he arrived at a wood fence, and he could see the warehouse not too far; easily recognizable by the fact that it was intact, unlike the other buildings. Andrei used his small frame as a way to get below the narrow fence opening, though he still had to dig through some snow to get across it. He clasped his talons together and cursed the strong wind for making him unable to fly.
It also turned out that using his bare talons to dig through snow was the same bad idea he used to dig out the musket ball. The cold felt like an avalanche as it cascaded through his thin body, gnawing at his flesh and biting deep into his bones even with his winter clothes on. Andrei shivered as he grasped the scarf around his neck and pulled it around his beak, in an useless attempt to trap some of his warm breath around his head. He also tightened his wool hat, with the black-and-red stitched on it.
Despite the cold, he still had to go on. For the people of Prywhen.
It made Andrei wish back to the meal his militia group had before embarking on their mission. It was the best meal he had in months. In order to prepare them for the winter night task, the cooks had prepared a mix of dried meat; with a broth of beef fat; onions; carrots and rice served with warm water. The griffon could still feel the aftertaste of the dried meat and the onions as he remembered it – which was another bad idea, as the memory of the tasty food made him hungry again. His slapped his stomach before continuing to walk towards his target.
Despite the hunger, he still had to go on.
Andrei crouched and crawled through the snow, his white fur and feathers merging his body with that of the landscape, just as Varujan said. After two hundred meters of ignoring the cold ground grasp at his paws and claws, he dropped to the ground as he saw a griffon. A Brodfeldian Army griffon; just a few meters from the back entrance of the warehouse.
Andrei grinded his beak together as the grabbed the bag full of bullet clips and took one out. Taking one at random, he inserted the clip into the rifle, before cocking the colt. He took another chance to examine the rifle under the moonlight and natural airglow of the night sky. He noticed a few words engraved on the rifle's stock, and even though he did not understand them in full, the meaning was obvious enough.
REGNO DI WINGBARDIA
FUCILE GARCANO MODELLO M91
Andrei clicked his beak and narrowed his eyes, taking aim at the lone sentry griffon around the warehouse's backdoor, waiting for the rest of the militia group. And the musket fire. The words of Silverplume began to echo through his brain once again, and even though he worked to push them out of his mind, they entered deeper and deeper inside it. With the howling of the wind and the seeping cold the only companions he had, the teacher's words were almost like shouting.
Kill or be killed. Shot or be shot.
The griffon grunted as the claw around the trigger began to shake, and he didn't know if it was from the weather or from Silverplume's words influencing his actions. Shaking his head so he could kick out the teacher out of his mind, Andrei moved his claw away from the trigger, placing it on his scarf. He recalled his mother's words years ago: was it really necessary to shoot? Was it true that there was a 'better way?' he wondered, as he laid prone on the snow.
Then, the musket fired.
Andrei went into automatic mode, and he rapidly moved his claw back to the trigger, and pulled it. The rifle's muzzle flash illuminated the snow around him, as the bullet shot out and hit the lone sentry on the chest. It sounded like all of Tartarus broke loose around the warehouse; with the sounds of musket fire coming from his comrades and the shouting of the Royalists who had been taken by surprise from the attack.
Andrei cocked the bolt of the rifle as he sprang out of the snow, and ran to the warehouse's side. He felt the adrenaline run through his body, unfreezing all of his extremities. He took cover against the wall, and grinded his beak and cowered himself as he heard a bullet zip next to his ears. The griffon then felt the rough, hard pieces of brick hit his face, as the bullet impacted the wall he was taking cover from. He took aim and fired in the general direction of the bullet, cocking the bolt again once he finished.
He closed his eyes again as he heard another shot. However, he opened them again as he distinguished it as musket fire. Andrei looked and smiled briefly as he saw Simu run up to him. "Was just behind him," Simu said. "Never saw me coming."
Simu then fully opened the warehouse's backdoor, and gestured with his claw to Andrei. "The rest are coming from the front. We need to surprise the Royalists from both sides," he said. Andrei nodded, and stepped inside the building. It was less a traditional storage warehouse, and more of a large house that had been repurpose to store weapons and other supplies. Simu took out his scythe and holstered his musket back. "This thing is useless on the inside. Cover me with your weapon."
Andrei nodded and took aim again. The front door was at the end of the long hallway, wide-open by the Royalist griffons taking up makeshift defensive positions as the militiagriffs attacked them. Fortunately, it seemed almost nogriff had taken notice of their rear attack. Almost. A Royalist rushed out of one room near the two griffons, and took notice of them. He aimed, ready to fire at Andrei – but not before Simu jumped out, and slashed his neck with the scythe, leaving him on the ground.
Andrei and Simu nodded to each other as they continued down the hallway. Two other Brodfeldians left another room in a rush towards the front. Andrei this time aimed and fired at the griffon in the rear, stricking him down. His companion turned around and, stunned at the griffon's ambush behind him, did not have enough time to draw out his weapon before Andrei cocked the rifle's bolt and fired at him. Another griffon on the ground.
With the ringing in his ears and the shouts and shots preventing any form of organized communication possible, both griffons once again crawled up the corridor. This time, the two gunshots that Andrei had fired had alerted the rest of the Royalists inside the warehouse of their position. However, what would normally be an advantage to them turned into a disaster, as they found themselves pressed between repelling the advancing GLA at the front and Andrei and Simu at the rear.
Two Royalists aimed at the pair, and Andrei ducked and took cover inside one of the warehouse's rooms as he heard the gunshots from their weapons. Aiming the rifle through the doorway, Andrei pressed the trigger and fired downrange; cocking the bolt and firing once again to prevent the Royalist pair to advance closer to them. The clip expended itself from the rifle, and Andrei grabbed another one from his back quickly and inserted it into the weapon, and pushed the bolt to close it.
Andrei pressed himself against the wall, and pointed it out of the doorway again, firing another shot. This time, he heard the grunt of one of the Royalist griffons receiving the impact of the bullet, and he jumped out of the room. It seemed Simu had the same idea, as the scythe-holding griffon jumped into the remaining Royalist, who was now also stunned. Simu slashed the griffon's neck with the farm tool, and mouthed something to Andrei which he couldn't hear due to the ringing.
Andrei was ready to advance further towards the front door, if it wasn't for the remaining Royalists being routed by the militiagriffs. He saw Comrade-Officer Varujan storm through the door, scythe in claw, and commanding for the others to enter the warehouse as well. Seconds later, the other nine griffons all stormed the warehouse with their scythes, entering either through the door or through the now broken windows.
In a few minutes, the battle was over, as the taken-by-surprise Brodfeldians were slashed by the peasant's scythes or surrendered to them. Andrei was standing near the backdoor when Varujan approached him and Simu, the officer perfoming the talon-on-chest salute before speaking to them.
"Well done, Andrei, you were excellent tonight," Varujan said. "You made the common Prywhenian proud."
Andrei smiled as he took out his wool hat and performed the salute. "Thank you, Comrade-Officer."
Varujan nodded and patted Andrei on the shoulder again. "Very well," he said. "The fighting is over, but we still have to identify all the rooms and crates before we rest for the night. We need all the griffons we have to pick out all the boxes, so how about you two help?" Varujan asked. "You could start with these rooms here." The officer pointed at the doors nearest to them.
Andrei turned to Simu and both griffons nodded. "Yes, Comrade-Officer. As you order."
Varujan smiled and returned to the front of the warehouse, leaving the pair at the back. "Let me check this room," Andrei said as he placed his talon on the door opposite to where the first Royalist had came out earlier "No one in it, probably." Andrei grinned. Simu rolled his eyes and looked at his comrade.
"Alright, I'll go check this one then," he said. Simu then promptly went through the doorway, leaving only Andrei and the closed door.
The room was initially dark as Andrei slowly opened the door. As more light from the hallway entered it, he could better distinguish the shapes and objects inside the room, up to the desk in the corner. He fully entered, at first noting that there was nothing inside apart from empty bookshelves and dusty furniture. But then, he saw it.
There was a griffon on the desk.
Andrei immediately raised his rifle to fire at the griffon, but as he pulled the trigger he heard a click coming from it. His eyes went wide as he looked at the weapon: he had forgotten to cock the bolt earlier. His resolve broke as the griffon's shaky claw was too slow to push it again before the griffon in the desk advanced up to him.
The griffon grabbed Andrei by his neck with his talon, choking the thinner griffon. Andrei gasped for air and struggled against the larger figure as he tried to free himself from this grasp without success. Finally, the Royalist pushed Andrei to the ground. With a talon on his neck, he looked up at the eyes of the griffon that had almost choked him to death.
Piercing green eyes.
Andrei became paralyzed as his chickhood memory came back to him. His father taken away. His mother beaten. It seemed that the officer also remembered Andrei, as he smirked once he recognized who he had in front of him. The griffon unholstered the pistol from his Golden Guard uniform and pointed it directly at the wide-eyed and unmoving Andrei.
"Looks like your luck ran out this time, kid," the Golden Guard officer said. "I won't spare you this time."
Andrei's vision went white as the griffon fired at him point-blank.
"D-dad..."
...
The last thing he heard was the sound of Simu crying out his name.
A blue-eyed griffon stood next to the Great Monument, which remembered the griffons and other creatures who gave their lives for the Revolution, and for freedom against Kloseu's tyranny. The blue-eyed griffon was soon joined by two griffonesses, one older and the other more young, as they both stared at a particular name in the Monument in the downtown of Kivessin.
Andrei Ciobanu
September 3rd 991 - February 2nd 1008.
Gave his life for the People of Prywhen.
The blue-eyed griffon and the young griffoness helped the older one place flowers in front of the griffon's name, and soon all three left together.
The coral-coloured petals were soon dislodged from the wind, and floated freely into the sky.
