Along New Tides II: Thalassocracy

Chapters

Introduction
Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 1
Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 2
Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 3
Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 4

Introduction

Eight. Months.

That was how long it had been, since the Event. How many things could change in such a relatively short time… Micha would never in her wildest dreams have been able to tell. At least prior to the Event.

Now however?

She saw things from another perspective entirely. Quite literally so, in fact.

In a gesture that had become a routine as of late, the griffon hen flared her wings wide for balance as she grabbed the edge of the laundry basket with a claw and rose up on her hind legs, craning her neck to look herself over in the mirror.

What eight months prior had been a fairly fit human male… was now a quite clearly pregnant griffon hen, a mix of a bald eagle and a wildcat, with green highlighted feathers surrounding her eyes. She pressed a free claw against her belly, feeling the heat radiating out from the two cubs growing within her.

Eight. Months.

And it had all happened so darn fast it felt like her mind was still reeling from the sheer speed of it.

Wake up one day covered in fur and feathers, and the wrong gender to add insult to injury. Discover the rest of the ship’s crew suffered similar fates.

Discover whatever caused that also caused the overwhelming majority of the world’s population to disappear with predictably bad results.

And not even a few days into that, and they had been fighting monsters, gearing up with whatever they could find at the time, shutting down two nuclear plants not a week into their adventure.

The ensuing months hadn’t been any better, ranging from acting third party to sort out issues in Ireland, retrieving artifacts for shady UN offshoots hiding in their bunker, to all-out war against ex-cartel members and cultists in Mexico, all the while keeping a whole fifteen thousand tons of ship running smoothly before they finally set up their base of operations near Rotterdam.

The strangest in that?

Her claw rubbed circles on her pregnant belly.

The mental part.

Monsters, Gods and magic, she could see that.

What had come unexpected… was how real ‘the mind is a slave to the body’ idiom was. Griffons like her didn’t think like humans, and much as she wanted to believe the contrary, the sad truth was a griffon’s body comes with a griffon’s instincts.

An urge to hunt. That she could get used to, having hunted back when she was still human. The ‘call of the wilds’ was something she could keep in check handily, provided it was regularly given an outlet. Griffons had a risk of going feral, she was certain it wouldn’t happen to her.

…

Except that wasn’t all instincts were about. She had come back as a hen in her prime… with the ensuing implications.

Really, it was a reality most who came back the wrong gender faced: they suddenly swung the other way, and they all took it in their own different way.

Not even a month after the Event, Micha was already active and mated for life to another griffon, her fellow Officer Vadim.

By September, following an unfortunate series of events, Micha and her went at it unprotected… leading to her current predicament of feeling like someone had stuck a medicine ball between her hind legs.

All in all, it went so fast it felt like her mind was still reeling from whiplash.

And yet… she didn’t dislike her current situation. She didn’t dislike Vadim, the cubs within her or even Andy. She loved them. The steps she had taken since her return felt natural for the person she had become.

Though maybe she was a bit curious how that would have unfolded any other way. How it would have gone if she had come back a male griffon instead of a hen. Or if Vadim had been the hen instead of her. Or… what would have happened if her fiance from before had been there all along.

Micha stared in the mirror deeply, mind flashing to a weirdly distant memory of a girl back in Gdansk.

With a growl, she averted her gaze and dropped back down to all fours, talons clicking against the bathroom tiles. No sense worrying about such things. She was happy and content. Dwelling over stuff she had no control over and that didn’t even cause her any kind of distress was just nonsensical. Micha flapped her wings idly and went back to her morning routine.

The bathroom wasn’t very big, but it showed Micha and Vadim had done their efforts of modifying the place to better accommodate griffons like installing a squatting toilet – a far better fit for quadrupeds like them- and lowering all of the furniture initially designed for humans down to their height so they wouldn’t need to rear up on their hind legs all the time to reach stuff. Along with that, since griffons on all fours were only half as tall as humans, they had added a couple perches in the bathroom (all over the house for that matter, for the sake of being efficient with their limited space), one of them supporting a large ceramic bowl that looked like a giant bird bath in which they stored spare clouds, both to clean themselves up, and to replace the bits of cloud they used for bedding.

Because when you can touch clouds and they’re actually fluffy on an unbelievable scale, why not make a bed out of them? Unlike bedsheets, you don’t have to clean them. And fur-on-fabric was an issue griffons had with their thick coats.

Outside the bathroom’s little round window, Brielle was still dark. It was still early January, so even there in the Netherlands the sun wouldn’t be up before at least eight. The sole things lighting up the little fortified town then were the sodium street lights, casting an orange glow on the narrow paved streets, small patios and canals.

A groggy Vadim stumbled inside the bathroom right as she was squatting down over the toilet.

“Mornin’...”

“Do you mind?” She squawked lowly in fake outrage.

“Only one bathroom in the house...” He paused, yawning, before he went over to the sink to start brushing his fur. “Can’t help it. Slept well?”

“With Aleksei’s potions and rituals? Better. At least now I’m not waking up every two hours because the cubs keep kicking me in the bladder.” She clicked her beak. “I swear they’re going to run us ragged in four months when they come out if they keep half the energy they have now...”

Vadim paused his brushing, partly turning away from the mirror.

“Remind me of that this evening after the fleet meeting. I might have some idea as to how we could… care for them… properly.”

She threw him a look.

“You know we’re both busy, and I said might. We haven’t even picked names yet!” He added quickly.

“I’ll hold you to that then.” She shook her head. “By the way, did you wake up And-”

“Hyah Mom!” Said cub chirped joyfully as she burst into the bathroom, giving her adoptive mom a quick hug before she flapped her little wings and hopped onto a perch where she had left her clothes.

“Sure, make it a party while I’m on the toilet. I don’t mind.” Micha glowered in mild annoyance, which only elicited chuckles from the other two.

Funnily enough, the mirth disappeared from Andy’s beak the moment her mother snagged her tail as she tried to slip out of the bathroom.

“And where do you think you’re going young lady?”

“Kitchen? For cooking?” Andy smiled innocently, attempting a puppy-eyed look that only earned an unimpressed response from Micha.

Nevermind the fact she had grown immune to it overtime, or that Andy knew her parents didn’t like her in the kitchen unsupervised for obvious reasons.

Sure she loved cooking. Sure she was a great help.

Still not a reason to have the griffon equivalent of a three-year-old girl alone in the kitchen.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, hmm?” Micha tilted her head to the side. “Feeling a bit scruffy maybe?”

A three-year-old cub that also liked making attempts at waging war against preening and basic fur care.

“I’s not scruffy!” Andy squawked out in protest.

The feathers sticking out at odd angles atop her head begged to differ. Protest she did, but that didn’t prevent Micha from preening her as soon as she’d done her business, the cub squirming under her talons, to little avail.

When you’re covered from head to toe in fur and feathers, proper care really does become necessary, unless you fancied finding hair all over the furniture and in your food.

After their morning ablutions, the three of them got dressed, generally opting for some lighter clothes in spite of the wintry cold outside. Griffons were innately geared for cold weather, so for them clothes were more of a matter of utility and decency. While Vadim quickly slipped into his set of orange high-vis coveralls, Micha’s own didn’t fit anymore, for obvious reasons, so instead she elected for a pair cycling shorts and a sailing parka, both a perfect match for the clothes she had Andy wear.

Which in and of itself was rather cute to witness. Though Andy and Micha didn’t have the same feline half, both were bald eagles on their fore half with the sole difference that the highlighted feathers were green for Micha, and red for Andy, but both in the exact same place around their eyes.

They quickly cooked up some eggs and lard for breakfast, with Andy ever too happy to partake in the cooking, before the trio finally left the little dutch house they had claimed for themselves just as the first rays of sunlight were cresting the horizon, hitting the old windmill of the northeast bastion nearest their house, it’s huge shadow keeping the abandoned playground next to it in the shadows.

It was hard not to like the looks of the place, obvious signs of disuse or not, even at this season. The weather was cold, but not dreadfully so, a very thin layer of snow and frost covering the landscape all around, not enough to freeze up the canals, but enough to leave sheets of ice in odd spots here and there to trip people up, with a faint morning mist blanketing the region, though the rising sun meant it was quickly disappearing as the griffons spread out their wings and took off, Andy clinging to Vadim’s tail as her adoptive father towed her through the air.

The little quaint, but tightly-packed brick houses of the old town had hardly changed since their arrival, but the influx of inhabitants meant the previous marks of abandonment and disuse were slowly fading away as more and more took the time to get settled and repair their new properties, previously barred windows now lit up, smoke rising out of chimneys here and there, and a couple vehicles and boats moving about in the streets and canals.

Still… even then, only a small fraction of the town was occupied, with plenty of room left within the safety of its moat and bastions. Brielle may be small, but all told, the WSU and all the locals they had managed to gather were less than three hundred souls. A lot by post-Event standards, minuscule on a pre-Event scale where Brielle could have comfortably housed three thousand people within the boundaries of the moat, let alone all the smaller communities and neighborhoods outside.And Brielle was but one town among many on the island of Voorne-Putten, though all others were still left deserted save for one isolated farmstead or two.

Though it did highlight their continued issues with workforce shortages, it at least had the benefit that anyone could just about pick whichever house they fancied provided they were willing to put in the work to repair and adapt it.

Another detail that was rather easy to take note of this early for three griffons up in the air as they climbed and turned towards the Maasvlakte and the small silhouette of Amandine moored off in the distance was how much the lights reinforced the impression of activity around the region.

You had the Maasvlakte lit up brightly, a bright industrial jewel a distance away from Brielle, blinking periodically from all the navigational lights and lighthouses kept active.

Brielle itself was a more muted light, a mix of sodium-orange lights with a few whiter house lights.

And then were a few odd spots around Voorne-Putten Island. Bridges and choke points where guard teams kept a vigilant eye on the premises.

But the rest was just… dark. The large metropolis of Rotterdam with its high-rises and modern buildings was completely dark, not a single soul having chosen to live there as soon as the WSU moved in. And beyond, vast expanses of abandoned and flooded polders turned into growing swamps and saltwater marshes remained dark, a darkness they knew hid a fair few monsters and stray beasts that thankfully soon learned Voorne-Putten wasn’t theirs to roam anymore.

It really summed up the world right then. A rare few flickers of civilization here and there, against dark expanses of abandoned cities, towns, villages, and the wilds now occupied by countless dangers recent and ancient.

The flight towards the harbor wasn’t long, even flying at a leisurely past coasting along wing currents. Down below they could already see the increased activity around the ships as all three were moored close to each other near the container terminal, with a few auxiliary crafts and the commuter ferry looking positively tiny compared to the larger cargo vessels.

Amandine had received her share of modifications over the course of their travels. While still technically a pure cargo, the roll-on/roll-off freighter had added a fair few tools to her arsenal to better tackle the difficulties and threats of this new world. While some just helped her endurance over long voyage like the two containers welded in place on the main deck housing a chicken coop and a greenhouse, or matters of utility like the helicopter visible through the open hangar door, others were far less benign and borne of the increased threats of demonic piracy and zeebeasts scouring the seas.

Armaments. In that respect, Amandine might now have been classified alongside some of the merchant raiders of the early 20th century, former purely civilian crafts modified with gun mounts, which in this case meant a quartet of 40mm Bofors in single mounts, a pair of fixed torpedo launchers near her side ramps, along with around a dozen miscellaneous deck mounts for machine guns of various calibers.

Though the added weight did hamper the cargo capacity, Vadim and Micha had yet to see a situation where that actually would be causefor problem. With less than 0.1% of the pre-Event population on the planet, freight volumes had quite obviously gone down, leaving cargo vessels like Amandine with quite a bit of unused tonnage to adapt.

When the three landed on the port bridge wing and made their way inside, they found much of the ship quiet, much of the navigational systems shut down while moored with the passageways inside fairly quiet. Hardly anyone was living on the ship at the time, save those that had to keep watch overnight and keep the generators running.

Where they did find people however – the entire crew actually- was when they made their way down to the cafeteria, everyone among the crew of thirty already gathered for the meeting Captain Prateek had announced would be held that morning.

As ever, Amandine’s crew looked like the eclectic bunch of wildly different species that it was, a colorful mix of nationalities sitting down in groups at their own tables. Ornithians, Abyssinians, ponies, griffons and the works, all were there, some in coveralls, others wearing more casual clothes from the prolonged time spent ashore.

As for the Captain, he was pacing back and forth near the back end of the room in front of a projector screen with Alejandro by his side, both clad in their dress blues, though in Dilip’s case, the Diamond Dog Captain also had a shoulder cloak to hide the stump of his arm from the battle of El Tajin.

Quietly, the little family of three sat down next to another pair of griffons just as Alejandro surveyed the room to check everyone was there. The Chief Officer checked the time, five minutes early, before shrugging and rapping his throat.

“Everyone please pay attention. Now that we’re all here,the Captain will now make an announcement.” Alejandro squawked out, quickly bringing silence to the whole cafeteria before he pressed a button, putting on a Powerpoint for all to see.

“Thank you Alej’.” Dilip nodded towards his Chief Officer before casting his eyes over the whole crew. “First off, Happy New Year to you all. May fortune smile on us and the tidings be fair, we will need it. You may wonder why I had you all assembled here… and there are several reasons behind that.” He explained calmly.

“Yesterday, we had a meeting among Captains, in order to decide what our actions shall be in the coming months.” The canine paused, then looked towards Alejandro. “If you’ll bring up the next slide? Yes, that table.”

A small spreadsheet covered the slide in question, with three rather recognizable columns labeled after each ship of the fleet.

“As most of you are probably aware… organizing with current resources is no easy task, and we still have trade routes to ply and expeditions to carry out. However… somebody needs to hold the fort. And after much deliberations and arguing, I can tell you we stand last on rotation. What this means is… Rhine Forest will be first to leave port from the end of January, due to return mid-to-end March for a regular trade cycle and one mission of nuclear material recovery as per commissioned by the HPI. Next… will be Fugro.”

“Hold on, so when does that mean we actually get to leave port?” Schmitt interrupted, the large orange dragoness serving the role of Chief Engineer sitting in the front row.

“If our plans hold up? We should regroup with Fugro mid-June and head down in the Mediterranean for exploration… and making contact with a colony in Egypt to address the Suez situation.” Dilip folded his one arm behind his back as he explained.

“So in the meantime...” Schmitt continued. “We’re just holding things together here? No leaving port?”

“More than that actually. We have several projects underway in terms of developing the Maasvlakte, Brielle and the island of Voorne-Putten. That’ll take some work already. Then… there is always the possibility of carrying out expeditions, not with Amandine, but we can charter smaller crafts if we manage to salvage some. I have some notices from the HPI mentioning we could get some fair payment if we recover art pieces from Amsterdam. Maybe even London. Such missions will however only be brought to consideration if groups volunteer for it. In the meantime, I hope we all can appreciate the locale and start building up our lives. I notice some are already well underway, hmm?” He looked pointedly towards the griffons.

Andy just waved back cutely, not having a good enough grasp of English to understand.

“Is that a problem sir?” Micha tilted her head to the side, frowning.

“I never said it was. Making things harder for organizing crews… yes.” He conceded with a nod. “Truly problematic? No. We can, and we will make arrangements. I do have to give a word of caution however, with current limitations, any of you that takes the leap should know this will be difficult and might require some sacrifices.” He warned, surveying his crew and the few couples he knew had formed. “But such talks are not the second reason why I had you assembled here. Nor is it about how duties will be assigned in the future. For that, please consult your respective department heads.”

He took a pause, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table as a very… corporate-ish slide appeared on the Powerpoint with pie charts and graphs.

“As you likely know… we have already arranged in our operations of Amandine a stand-in for wages, privileges and looting concessions. That, however, is something solely tied to the operations of this vessel. Lacking our previous company, Amandine currently doesn’t have an owner.” Dilip intoned slowly. “To that effect, and after consulting Artyom in virtue of his status as our union rep, we have reached an agreement on how this ownership issue will be addressed.”

Dilip paused, watching looks of dawning understanding appear on his subordinates’ features as the deciphered the slide in front of them.

“Practical arrangements for the WSU are… a complicated matter will likely won’t see settled for years. Currently, what I offer you and will hold up to a vote, is that M/V Amandine becomes its own privately owned company of which we will all hold equal shares.”

He didn’t even want more shares than the rest. Either way, he still was the Captain and that had nothing to do on whether he was a major shareholder or not.

“This ‘Amandine company’ will itself act the role of subcontractor to the WSU. Fair warning however, that relationship will undergo changes as time goes on and we develop more utilities and civil bodies in the WSU. For the time being, all Captains and Chief Officers have agreed this was the simplest way to settle things administratively. All ships are subject to such a shares system, and depending on what we decide today, meetings will be held regularly to oversee ship operations...”

“Wait, so we don’t get more shares depending on our duty?” Hawthorne – their helicopter pilot- inquired from the back.

“No. I want to insist that you don’t mistake shares distributed, with wages and privileges obtained from fulfilling a job on this ship. Those are notrelated in the slightest, and the aim behind this decision is to ensure everyone is duly represented in the handling of this vessel. It gives you a way to put your own words forward, and it makes me – us all for that matter- accountable towards our peers for our actions.”

Though his initial explanation was accurate, it took the rest of the morning to fully detail the arrangement to the last bit, and to assuage any inquiry and worry voiced by the crewmembers, of which there were many. There were questions about to which extent ownership of the vessel went, which items fell under those terms, what kind of decisions they could expect to be taken each meeting, and many more questions about how the relationship between each vessel in the fleet and the WSU was going to develop...

...many of which Dilip couldn’t quite answer.

It was as he had said it: most aspects of their blooming organization were still being set up, like how they would be governed, which roles they had to define, ensuring the whole scope of their operations was viable…

A bizarre mix of statecraft and mercantile operations they were discovering one problem at a time as they cropped up, and the shareholder system for returnee crews was just the first stone on the structure. Many more would come, and some would have to be torn down to make room for better masonry the more ships and souls joined the fray.

But concerns like those were to be dealt with in the coming months, if not years. All things considered and carefully explained, the crew actually agreed to Dilip’s system in full, and from then on the Captain let Alejandro and Schmitt take up the lead of the meeting as respective department heads to begin explaining what they would be doing while shoreside.

The deck crew for one, would mostly spend their time on watch keeping the territory of Voorne-Putten secure, with some extra tasks like helping out in development projects here and there whenever needed, and the odd jobs for specialized personnel like Vadim and Boris – both griffons counting as medical personel- winding up assigned to the little clinic that was still being set up in an old retirement home for naval veterans in Brielle.

As for the folks from engineering, their time would be spent keeping Amandine maintained and ready to leave port with her generators running, all the while assigning a few to shoreside jobs that mostly involved either construction, industrial development, or plainly keeping the current and water running.

Last were the veterans, and though technically spread across Engineering and Deck for common tasks, the squad of four also needed to help train the ‘Brielle Brigade’ as it had been dubbed.

In fact even their two pilots had some sorties planned with the helicopter to seek out and reactivate some offshore installations like sensor towers and navigational relays, maybe even take an aircraft out to Belfast and establish a more regular liaison than could be achieved by ship.

…

Provided they actually found a plane that could carry passengers and pull of the trip of course. The Super Tucano was neat as close-air support and air recon, but it certainly didn’t have the range for a single trip over Britain and to Ireland, let alone back. This was yet another task added on an ever-expanding to-do list which itself only promised to grow more pages whichever way things panned out.

If more folks joined the colony and solved their current workforce issues… neat. But more folks needed more accommodation, amenities, food, equipment and the likes, all of which needed to be handled.

And if the current workforce shortage kept up… then the list of tasks would keep growing anyway because they needed to counter the shortage, and expand their capabilities, and also tackle all the issues that cropped up in the various colonies allied to the WSU.

In short?

Work. Work. Work.

The crew had dispersed soon after the meeting came to its conclusion. With the duties spread out and little chance of changes regarding that for at least a couple weeks, most returned to what they had been doing prior to New Year. For some, it was decidedly more active than others.

In Aleksei’s case… it looked like her afternoon was going to be rather boring. Good. She could use the rest after spending the night keeping an eye on the generators.

The little house she had picked on the east side of Brielle (actually not too far from where Vadim and Micha lived, she could see the old mill out of her window), she had worked on a bit so it would be tailored for her… ‘secondary duty’ as fertility cleric of Epona, for a lack of a better term. And the go-to religious authority on Celticism in town.

Out the front windows, the facade overlooked a narrow brick street that followed the course of one of the many canals in town. Aleksei had taken the time to make the oils to paint runes and sigils on it, signifying her abode would be a safe place to all who sought out her advice and help, their faint lunar glow making the building stand out from the rest, a fact only heightened by the presence of vines and plants all over the building thanks to the magic that permeated her place, keeping the plants green and lively despite the cold season.

In practice? Nothing too complicated. A few wards. Spiritual protection. Comfort. Translation. Their full power was aimed at the relatively large living room and adjoining office one immediately encountered upon crossing the threshold.

Should she call it a sermon hall? Because that was exactly what she’d used it as in the past weeks, and visibly it had its effect, even on locals, despite the Netherlands not really being Celtic. They were more of a… Nordic-Germanic mix?

It didn’t seem to prevent anyone from attending her sermons, or the few that came afterwards seeking out life advice she never felt she was the best person to ask for… yet here she was, her living room looking like a temple from all the decorations and runes added to it, with tables and benches ready to be moved at a moment’s notice and way more plants than reasonable.

Although… as plants went… she heavily suspected the garden out back would end up like a jungle come spring, with the obligatory standing stones if she had the resources to make them.

At least her office looked somewhat normal for a marine engineer like her, with a fair few screens up and displaying readouts from various installations around Brielle. Mainly the LNG power plant, and the pumping station. Other than that, maps covered the walls.

Germany mostly, or rather, the Black Forest, each map covered in various post-it notes, crossed, arrows and drawings. Even a couple photos from her last trip there looking for the legendary horse Bayard that Epona had tasked her with finding.

They had found a lot of things there. Monsters included. A couple lone settlements even.

A magic horse with the ability to leap over rivers and adjust his size at will though? Not even a trace.

…

Aleksei felt a sinking feeling deep in her gut. She groaned in annoyance. Every time she thought about her quest, her vow to become male again, her geas reactivated and reminded her she was supposed to be out there looking for Bayard.

“Oooh this fucking sucks...” She grumbled through a gritted beak in her own native tongue.

And boy did she rarely speak Latvian these days… Still clutching her stomach with one set of talons, she grabbed for her maps with the other and set to mentally plan out her quest. Immediately, the feeling abated… for now. She knew it would be back with a revenge, until her wings carried her to Germany and she resumed her quest.

Which at this point she wasn’t sure which was the most painful. The geas dragging her back into the quest, or her feelings of being increasingly drawn between her feelings for a certain demigod Earth Pony and the inevitable fact she would close off that relationship if she kept on the same course.

The hardest part?

Epona hadn’t even asked her to take the geas when she became a cleric. That idea was all her own, and she was regretting it plenty.

With an odd mix between a groan, a trill and a sigh, she jotted down a few more notes on her map of the Black Forest before pushing it aside and downing a glass of water. Plan all she wanted, she still had to go out and request to be freed from her normal duties to resume that quest, and previous experiences over there also showed she would need to find someone to go along with her.

Pavlos and Mikhail? Nah… doubtful. Rhine Forest was due to depart soon and she wouldn’t ask dragon and rider to follow her twice if the first time had turned up nothing.

Who then? Maybe…

The doorbell rang before she could consider any alternative. Quickly, she checked the time on the clock hanging on a wall in the living room, but this wasn’t the time for the evening’s sermon yet, and most chats she had with attendants seeking advice were after the fact.

The doorbell rang again.

“Come in!” The hippogriff squawked out, exiting her office hastily just as whoever had rung walked in.

It was another hippogriff hen, one she had come to know fairly well in the last few months actually.

Sri. The hen walked in shaking a thin layer of snow that had built up on her coat, shivering slightly. Hippogriffs weren’t too well-suited for the cold, and thus most like Aleksei or Sri were wrapped up in multiple layers at this season. In Sri’s case, it looked like the hen had invested quite a bit in the clothing department, wearing a wind shell over M/V Amandine’s signature orange coveralls, along with gloves, hoof wraps and thermal underclothing.

Not the most comfortable of arrangements for creatures with wings and feathers, but it beat catching a cold.

Unlike Aleksei though, Sri hadn’t had her appearance altered by pledging fealty to a deity, so where Aleksei was at alicorn levels in height with all the curves and swan-like appearance you could expect from her fertility domain, her Indonesian shipmate was noticeably shorter and more plain, her avian half bearing the lithe aspects of a gannet, with an ivory coat that made a sharp contrast with her fiery red crest and tail feathers, a match in color for her eyes. A redhead in short.

“Sri...” Aleksei blinked. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon before the sermon. How are you doing? Satisfied with this morning’s meeting? Feel free to hang your coat by the entrance, I have some tea over in the kitchen if you want.”

“Brrr… Some tea would be great, thanks. I’m from Jakarta, never was meant for colds like this.” Sri shivered as she shed her coat and hung it by the door before following Aleksei into the kitchen.

“And here I was born in Riga, and you don’t see me doing too well against it either.” Aleksei joked before her look turned somber.

Well… thinking about it she had thought for her entire life that she was fully Latvian. And yet… it had taken a divinity revealing it to her to unearth the fact her mom may not have been the good wife she pretended to be while on a trip to Bali.

Sort of explained why she was a hippogriff and not a griffon, come to think of it.

She hated her mother for it.

But… now was not the time to dwell on thought like that. Sitting down on her haunches in front of a kitchen table that had its legs shortened to suit quadrupeds like her, she poured Sri a steaming cup of mint tea.

“So what brings you here then? Not satisfied with what we decided for the ship this morning?”

“Wha- Oh no. Not at all.” Sri shook her head firmly. “I can hardly complain about that, it’s more than fair. If a bit boring that we’re stuck here in the near future. Some of us, at least.” She looked pointedly towards the taller hen across from her.

“I won’t leave until I’m sure my duties are covered. Can’t have the electricity shut off while I’m gone, can I?” Aleksei tucked a few crest feathers behind her ear and clicked her beak. “But I can’t not go either, that’s how the geas works. Enough dawdling though, you came here for a reason, right?”

Sri shifted on her haunches uneasily, Aleksei seeing her tail feathers swish behind her.

“Well… uh...” Sri mumbled something under her breath in what Aleksei assumed was a native dialect the translation ward didn’t pick up. “You know, I value your advice. I was… lost when I came back. I hated this body, I hated myself and what I had become, I didn’t know what to do or if it was good or bad. But now it’s alright. I got to meet Epona, and I’ve never been more comfortable than now. I learned to set aside my life from before, and enjoy the new one I’ve been gifted.”

“Thanks?” Aleksei tilted her head to the side.

Not that she would ever qualify herself as someone suited to give out life advice. Most other times people came up to her, she just referred to Celticism and the ideologies of various deities in the pantheon, rather than actual life experience.

That said… she had a calendar with a fair few conversion ceremonies planned out. Weddings even, though most were locals that were already married and just wanted to reiterate their vows under the banner of a new religion.

“So… can I have your opinion on something?”

Ah, there it comes.

“Of course. Go ahead, I promise anything you say here will stay private.”

“Right...” Sri paused, clicking her beak a few times. “So you know how me and Bart are a thing?”

By which she was referring to the Belgian unicorn currently serving as Amandine’s gunsmith. Not originally from the crew, they had picked him up in Zeebrugge shortly after their Return, and the ex-army pony now counted as a reliable member of the vets’ squad.

“Since Mexico, right?”

“Havana actually. We hit it off the night I converted to Celticism, at the party.” Sri blushed slightly.

“I take it it’s less about you and more about him, then?”

Sri nodded.

“I like him. I mean… I really like him and I’m a hundred percent certain the feeling’s mutual. I just want to take things to the next step, but I’m afraid he… You know how he was before?”

“Can’t say I do.” Aleksei shrugged with her wings.

“He told me. He had a wife and a daughter at a time.”

“He lost them?”

She nodded.

“Car accident he said. They always let their daughter go to school by bike. One day, her teachers didn’t see her turn up on time. A hit and run. She was dead when they found her, the drunk behind the wheel didn’t even call the police.” Sri told her. “He said that broke their couple, that it didn’t matter how long they had been together, that losing your own child is the epitome of failure in life and that it was enough to break up a couple that had been together for just short of fifteen years.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as Aleksei mulled over her words.

“And you think that would make him...” She searched for words. “Unlikely to go further? You can’t fault his reasoning, losing one’s child isn’t something you ever truly recover from. Divorces leave a mark, too.”

“But… do you think I could convince him otherwise? I don’t want to pressure him, but he really is the one.”

Aleksei eyed the other hippogriff critically, watching her fidget slightly, teacup cradled between her claws.

“I’ll say… I’m definitely not someone you should consult for relationship advice, Sri. But I can give you word of caution. Romantically, you may want to wed him on the basis of the pair-bonding and eternal loves that comes with it… and I can’t fault that. Today’s world is one where you seek out stability and that definitely does the part.” She coughed in her beak. “However… I hope I do not need to remind you the actual point of a wedding ceremony in our faith, is to make and raise children. Ignoring the fact it would be extremely counterproductive at this point with Bart, are you ready for that?”

Aleksei didn’t even need to hear a reply from Sri’s beak, her features were enough of a tell. Though the Indonesian was far more comfortable with her feminine situation than she originally was before converting… it was still a decidedly male mind in a female body.

Sri lowered her gaze, the claw reaching up to her belly all too visible.

“Too soon eh? I understand, unlike griffons we don’t have instincts to push us along.” Aleksei nodded.

“But I want some… eventually. I...” Sri hesitated. “I had kids before you know? Back home in Indonesia. It’s the best thing that can happen to you, and if I’m to treat this life as a new one, I won’t miss that chance just because I’m apprehensive.”

“Which is good to hear then.” Aleksei grinned. “Just don’t force yourself on it. You have more control over whether or not you have children than human women ever had, and Bart isn’t any more ready than you are. You said it was a new life? Break him in on that idea, ease him in in regarding the world the way you do… and only then can you envision a wedding. Understand? And if there’s anyone that could ease his pain about that loss… it should be you.”

“Thanks. I can always rely on you for advice. I… I do need some time to get ready for kids. But I want some, that I’m certain of.” Sri asserted, now sounding more confident. “Say… in practice?”

That, Aleksei was more confident talking about.

“If you’ve paid attention to the griffons, then think of it that we work in a similar way. You know your trigger for ovulation is food, at least triple your average daily calorie intake, but then it’s warm if you want to lay eggs, cold for a pregnancy. Big word of caution though… is that if you turn at any point in time into your seapony form before laying eggs, then it will be a pregnancy regardless of temperature. And given that Bart is a unicorn… if you go with eggs, you’ll have hippogriff children. Pregnancy… you might get pegasi, unicorns, or hippogriffs.”

“Plural?”

“Clutches of two are the most common, yes.” Aleksei made a gesture with her talons. “It might prove difficult if your uh… potential children come out as ponies though.”

“Why?”

“Pony mares have teats. We hippogriffs don’t. Beaks ya know? We can produce the secretion needed for regurgitation, but that’s not suitable for foals.”

“So I’d need formula?”

“Eeyup.” Aleksei nodded. “Or I know a few potion recipes that can act as a stand-in. It’s manageable, but it’s a difficulty you must consider if you’re serious about your project. And try to make Bart think about it if you’re going to ease him in on the idea. It takes two to make children.”

“I will. Promise.” Sri chirped, looking more cheerful than when she’d first come in.

There was a brief pause where the both of them sipped their tea, with Sri idly looking at the furniture of the office, though it was clear she was searching for words.

“What’s on your mind?” Aleksei decided to break the silence just as she finished her cup, setting it down with a clatter.

“What’s next?”

“If you don’t mind waiting I was about to prepare for the sermon before y-”

“I don’t mean the usual schedule.” Sri leaned forward. “What I mean is, are you planning to resume your quest soon? I’m aware… actually I don’t think anyone in town isn’t, that your last attempt didn’t turn up much. You’re going back, no?”

Aleksei crossed her forelegs over her chest and reclined back in her seat, wings uncomfortably pressing up against the back of her seat as she stared at the ceiling.

“I have to. Problem with that would be that last time I was there, I had Mikhail and Pavlos along, and they’re on Rhine Forest’s roster, so they’re leaving soon...-ish. Why?”

“When you came to Rotterdam from Germany, did you pass through Limburg?”

“Yes. Of course. That’s the shortest route. Why the question?”

“Well… let’s say I’m trying to better my relationships with Bart. That I know his daughter is buried in Diest where he used to live. And that it – sort of – is halfway where you need to go, knowing it’s difficult for you to assemble a team to go there, what with the workforce shortage.” Sri tilted her head to the side while looking Aleksei dead in the eye, her orange irises bearing a confident look.

In turn, the cleric leaned back in her seat with renewed appraisal for the fellow hippogriff across from her.

“Did you come here with that in mind?”

“I might. What of it? Bart still needs to visit his daughter’s tomb, and I’m fairly confident this would help him. It helps him, it helps me, and it helps you because you assemble the team you need.” Sri grinned. “What, then?”

“Alright, you’re in. I’ll make sure to plan a detour by Diest, just slip me the address of the cemetery so I can at least ask Roberto if there’s anything he wants us to look at while we’re their.”

“Gear?”

“We’re heading into the Black Forest for upwards of three weeks, and it’s winter. Expect snow up to your neck so make sure you have a few sets of thermal underwear. You’ll need it. I think Bart being a pony he can withstand the cold better than us, but warn him as well. Though given he’s the gunsmith, make sure he preps us guns at least 7.62. I know they kick hard, but given the size of some of the monsters in the forest, 5.56 won’t do shit. Maybe even big game hunting rifles if he can find some.”

“Alright, I will. We should be able to put the right guns together for the job. When do we leave?”

“Whenever I can convince the Captain, and I know he won’t be too happy about it. Now…” Aleksei threw a look through the open door and towards the window on the street side, where she could see a few figures gathered outside the house. “… if you don’t mind, I have sermons to hold.”

Author's Note

There it is. At long last.

New story. New adventures. New parts and details to add to an expanding worldbuilding.

Take note however, that unlike my previous story, I will *not* be able to keep up a regular, weekly update rate. I'm far too busy as of late to pull that off, while keeping the story and its quality consistent.

Hope you enjoyed the first taste though.

Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 1

Aleksei wasn’t sure which wound up being the hardest task. The actual preparations for her second expedition into the Black Forest, or convincing the Captain to let her do it in the first place. She knew why Dilip was so reticent about the prospect. The workforce shortage was still a thing, and in letting Aleksei and her team go, he would be parting with a very valuable Engineer in the form of Aleksei, a cleric, and even Sri and Bart meant he was short an able-bodied sailor and a guard/gunsmith.

Regardless, with perseverance, and quite a bit of arguing that regardless of Dilip’s approval of it, her geas meant she didn’t have a choice as to whether or not she could drop her quest; Aleksei managed to get a three-week window to get it done. Plus the authorization to take whatever gear they’d need.

That at least they didn’t have a shortage of.

What they took?

A lot of equipment. Enough, in fact, to completely fill one of the Defender 130 the fleet commonly used as light utility vehicle, both inside, outside on its roof rack, and even an entire trailer worth of gear, fuel and supplies. Radios to keep in touch with the fleet in the Maasvlakte, a satellite dish on the roof to get access to the database, and plenty of ammunition to deal with whatever critters got in the way. Parked in the holds of Amandine before departure, the white 4x4 with the black anchors on its hood and doors looked ready to cross the Sahara.

Was it necessary? As a matter of fact, yes. Sure, on a map, the trip boiled down to heading from the Netherlands down into southern Germany. It wasn’t that far. Except that didn’t account for the state of roads and highways after the apocalypse.

Jokes about potholes and taxpayer money aside, the state of infrastructure had decayed far beyond what could have been expected from just leaving roads abandoned in the span of time since the Event.

In the Netherlands where they were, slight tidal damage to the Delta Works had led to large swathes of land turning into swamps, forcing anyone that wanted to get through to Belgium or Germany to take a ridiculously convoluted path through, needing to scout out which bridges still stood, and which marshlands were fordable.

And that was the easy part, because then would come Belgium and Germany.

“What’s wrong over there? We stopped by in Belgium all the way back in May, didn’t look too bad back then.” Angelo countered as Aleksei watched the minotaur pour himself some coffee in a mug that looked more like a bucket to the smaller hippogriff.

They were inside Amandine’s cafeteria, having a last word over breakfast before the expedition finally departed. Most of the room was empty, save for them, Sri and Bart sitting at their own table in a corner, and some folks from the day’s watch still looking over their duty sheets as the coffee cooled. Outside, the sun had yet to rise.

“Yeah, but when you went to shut down that nuclear plant, it had barely been a month after the Event. Now...” Aleksei leaned forward slightly. “It’s almost been a year. And let me tell you: Europe’s got its fair share of enchanted forests, and they grow like crazy.”

“The Black Forest you mean?”

“If it were only that. Mind you, the Ardennes count as an enchanted forest as well.”

“They do? What’s the deal with them then? German tanks appearing out of nowhere?” He chuckled.

“Nah. Err… how do I put it?” Aleksei drummed her talons on the table pensively. “Think of it like that: you have the Black Forest. Keyword: dark. That’s its trait as enchanted forest. Then you have Broceliande, over in Brittany. Keyword: mystical. Or fay. You get my meaning.”

“The Ardennes then?”

“Wild” Aleksei clicked her beak and took a sip of coffee.“At least that’s the impression it left when I flew over it with Mikhail and Pavlos. It’s like it’s… cancelling all development that ever happened there? The magic’s just gnawing at anything remotely civilized that’s left in there for a prolonged time. Metal gnawed back to ore. Buildings back to rubble. Highways that look like nothing more than fire cuts. I’m certain you can get through, I saw some of the older bridges were still standing… but by land getting it done is going to be...”

“A bitching time?”

“Aight.” Aleksei nodded. “It’s all hills and valleys after you get past Flanders, and now the highways are proper fucked, everything is covered in trees, and it’s filled with monsters. Both the Ardennes and the Black Forest are growing to the point where you’ll have one massive green blob of a forest cutting a line across western Europe from the Alps to the North Sea in less than ten years if this keeps up...” She sighed.

“Eh, not like it matters much to us. We’re sailors, what’s our business in the hinterland?” Angelo joked with a wide grin. “Except for you of course… Think you’ll do fine out there?”

“Think you willdo fine over here?” Aleksei shot back. “Not going to get bored?”

“Me? Bored? Hardly. I got two weeks left to spend with Artemis before Rhine Forest leaves, and I am going to make the most out of them.” He said, the joking grin turning into a wistful one.

“Oh? You two finally stopped prancing around and got down to it then?”

“Eeyup.”

“Pair-bonded?”

“Eeyup.”

“How is it then? I read that you minos pair-bond for life like with griffons, but it also said in the text it’s nowhere near… uh… intense?” Aleksei asked, genuinely curious.

“If by that you mean I actually can spend one day away from Artemis without feeling depressed...” The minotaur shrugged his wide shoulders. “Then yes, it’s less intense. To be honest, Artemis still doesn’t seem all that comfortable with winding up genderswapped, but she’s growing into it. Unlike you, come to think of it.”

“Don’t start please.” Aleksei sighed. “It’s a geas, how many times do I have to say it? Magical oath. Can’t break it.”

“Cù Chulainn broke one.”

“The Hound bore one of a different type, and it had consequences. You can take a geas like mine as an unbreakable vow… or one as he did, which grants powers so long that the vow remains unbroken.”

“So you don’t lose your cleric status if you break it?”

“Unrelated. There’s a way I can lose it, but that would involve committing an act unfathomable by Celtic values or the domain of fertility.”

“That, I expected.” Angelo paused to take a long gulp of coffee. “Not that I think it would be much of an issue to you. You’re too straight-laced to ever do that.”

“Thanks I guess? But can we talk about something other than me and my geas? I’m already going to spend the next few weeks trying to sort that out, you know.”

“Well between you and me, seems rather obvious you don’t want it sorted out...” The minotaur rumbled lowly before grunting as Aleksei kicked him under the table with a hoof. “Sorry! But if you’re curious about it, then yeah, I’m rather happy with my situation right now. Sure there’s a lot of work to go around, but it’s the closest to a regular nine-to-five I’ve had in years, I got a girlfriend that by all means I’ll be with for the rest of my life without even being able to regret it, and I even found a gaming group.”

“A wha- really?”

“Hey, don’t snark. I need my hobbies. Turns out, someone in Brielle had opened a board game shop before the Event, and now Rhine’s cadets have claimed it for themselves. I’m not especially fond of the tabletop part since they make a lot of house rules adding new races in settings that don’t necessarily need them. I mean, if the intent is roleplaying from the get-go, then what’s the point in adding current races? Let me play a human fighter for all I care, at this point it’s more in the realm of fantasy than picking minotaur.” He shrugged.

“All the options… and you still pick a human fighter?”

Angelo shrugged.

“What can I say? I like my classics, and I don’t need no obscure race with min-maxed multiclassing to get good roleplay done. But props to you for knowing human fighter is as classic as vanilla ice, what are your hobbies anyway right now?”

“Hobbies? I have my job as Third Engineer here on Amandine, and then my duties as fertility cleric. You know what that means? Too little time for myself, and way too much info on everyone’s sexual life.” She shook her head, sighing. “If I told you how many in Brielle are at it, you wouldn’t believe me. I checked, my most used spell these days is the contraception cantrip.”

“Doesn’t seem too logical, coming from a fertility cleric.” Angelo rubbed a thumb against the tip of his horn, Aleksei only then noticing the sheen on them.

Wait… were they actually waxed? Was that minotaur fashion, the horn trim?

… Better than nose rings anyway.

“For one… human contraception only works on a handful of species.” She glanced at the minotaur pointedly. “You should know. And fertility or not, it’s usually better when kids are planned for, not accidental. Plus the contraception cantrip kind of has that ‘kicking the can down further down the street’ effect. Sure when you use it, you have one day of free fun but...” Aleksei raised her wings in a shrug. “It increases potency after the effects wane, and it stacks the more you use it. Like it or not, Epona really is like that mom that’s always asking for grandkids.”

From her position looking into her scrying pond in the Otherworld, Epona threw her head back and let out a neighing laugh.

“Oh child, if only you knew how true that is!”

Aleksei’s expedition left a few minutes later, she, Sri, and Bart piling up inside their Defender before they drove off, first away from the harbor, then away from the safety of Voorne-Putten and the Maasvlakte altogether.

To say there was a stark difference between the island that was actually inhabited, and the surrounding area, would have been the understatement of the day. The Netherlands were a country raised on reclaimed land, and much like forestry reclaimed civilization deeper inland, the sea was showing signs of gaining terrain over the Low Countries. Broken dams and jetties had seen to it that fields and villages secured centuries prior now found themselves under at least half-a-meter of water, if not more. Needless to say, it severely slowed down their advance as they tried to make a cut for the Delta Works.

In a perfect world, they would have made a beeline for Rotterdam and taken the highway south to Germany from there.

In practice? Rotterdam being on their HQ’s doorstep meant they knew fairly well how the metropolis had fared. How badly that is. Lacking anyone to close the floodgates during a particularly nasty spring tide prior to the WSU’s arrival in the Maasvlakte, what had been a key commercial hub in the pre-Event world, now threatened to crumble at a moment’s notice from all the water that had seeped into its foundations, streets blanketed in water, mud and debris. Of all the scavs that routinely ventured into Rotterdam, not one ever took a car. Boating was the way to go.

Rather un-intuitively so then, the shallower parts, those a vehicle could still get across, were actually closer to the sea rather than inland. Though heavily damaged and with their floodgates torn open, the Delta Works still stood in part, allowing for a somewhat faster way to get across Holland and through the vast expanses of floodplains and marshlands the region had become.

Somewhat faster.

“You’re good… you’re good… bit more to the left… theeeere...” Aleksei carefully said.

Not a few hours into the journey and after they had passed the first set of dams across Haringvliet, they found they had to slow down drastically as the first flooded village came up and the water reached the top of their Defender’s wheels, forcing the 4x4 to trudge along in first gear to avoid making waves, while Aleksei sat perched on the hood with a sounding pole, poking ahead of the vehicle so as to avoid crashing into a ditch or any other obstacle hidden beneath the muddy waters.

Sure, she was a hippogriff, she could have turned into a seapony and checked underwater herself.

It was also January, and last she checked there was quite the weather difference between all the tropical ports they had cleared the previous year, and the Netherlands. The waters were frigid, with sheets of ice floating here and there, and so filled with mud and debris you couldn’t see anything a few centimeters below the surface.

Dreary really. They progressed along, Aleksei frequently shivering and tugging at the collar of her coat, thankful she had thought of packing some thermal underclothing prior to leaving, watching as a mass of broken ice, debris and plant matter accumulated around them. Further out, fog banks rolled over the flat landscape with the shadows of the next set of dams that would lead to the next island up ahead. Around them, what at one point might have been a quaint village lay rotting, partly sunken in the frigid water, the buildings’ foundations slowly growing more unstable as saltwater seeping into the masonry. Many had already collapsed, adding debris to the piles that floated with the tide. Come summer, this promised to become one more fetid swamp among many. Off in the distance, the shadow of a ruined windmill loomed, a symbol of how broken the Netherlands were. Further, the sound of seagulls mixed with that of the waves.

There were dry parts, fortunately. It wasn’t all flooded polders. But even then, progress was slow and tedious, and though the area was traversable…

…

They weren’t above making mistakes, and though having a giant moat around the WSU’s HQ could be seen as a good thing, what wasn’t was Aleksei believing she could traverse it with a land vehicle in short order. Had they looked into it a bit more before leaving, then they’d have known they should have rather loaded the Defender on a boat and taken it to Belgium by sea before starting the road trip.

Or even better: take a boat inland up the Rhine and get as close to the Black Forest as possible.

…

Really, anything would have been better than the current plan.

“You know, I starting to think this not the best idea.” Bart commented, the unicorn’s voice ever bearing the accent of someone who only recently started actively speaking English.

“I’m aware.” Aleksei groaned. “Couple paces to the right, you’re straying off the road. In my defense, how was I supposed to know if nobody had tried it yet? I flew above the area before, but it’s not like you can gauge how easy it is to traverse at a glance. Too far to turn back anyway now, best we can do is tell the guys in Rotterdam to look into fixing the highway.” She paused, tapping a claw against her beak. “Let’s hope it’s not as bad in Belgium or Germany, otherwise we’ll be wasting some serious time just getting to the Black Forest.”

“Wait, so how will we bring the Defender back to Rotterdam once we’re done with your quest?” Sri joined in.

“With difficulty.” Aleksei replied, wincing at the prospect.

Might as well call for backup and have a boat sail up the Rhine to pick them up at that point. At the very least, this trip through Holland confirmed their assumption that the region acted like a moat around the WSU’s HQ.

“So if you came through here last time, how come...” Bart started.

“Last time, I barely even touched the ground. Problem is, when you actually plan for an expedition, you need gear, and flyers can’t carry it all. We don’t exactly have a dragon the size of Mikhail to fly our stuff around.” Aleksei pointed out.

“And Mikhail is not here because?” Bart pressed on.

“Can’t expect anyone to be at my beck and call ready to leave whenever I need to continue my quest. He and Pavlos, they got a life of their own you know.” The hippogriff shrugged with her wings before returning her attention to the cold, murky waters in front of her. “Which unfortunately leaves us poking a stick at water. Never figured you would want an echo sounder for a truck, and yet here we are.” She trilled sardonically.

In normal circumstances, a road trip from Rotterdam to Belgium wouldn’t have taken more than two hours tops, traffic jams included.

From two hours, it rocketed up to two days. When night came, the group found themselves forced to drive the Defender up onto the roof of a parking building to get away from the rising tide before they made camp.

Sri and Bart set up their tent, Aleksei making a point of ignoring the noises and the shaking emanating from there during the night whilst she herself curled in her sleeping bag tucked between two supply crates in the back of the Defender, shivering.

For what little rest she managed to snag that night, it was a relief they didn’t have to put up a sentry, thanks to her putting up a ward prior to curling inside her sleeping bag.

But still cold enough that by the time she woke from her state of half-sleep, half-toss-and-turn, there was a layer of frost covering the truck’s windows, given a rosy tint by the lights of the rising sun.

Let it be said that a morning’s coffee is that much more of a relief when you add the fact you’re freezing your wings off in the wintry cold.

More of a relief though, was when they finally made their way into Belgium and that the Dutch swamplands ceded their place in favor of the short-but-dense shrub and copses of trees that covered the Flemish Plain, between decrepit suburbs, towns and industrial zones. It was still cold, with a few centimeters of snow covering the landscape, but the upside was that they finally got away from the humidity.

And the roads were serviceable too, so nowhere near as bad of a time loss when they crossed the region as they had getting away from Rotterdam, exception made for a large pack of feral dogs which were easily chased off after shooting a few of them.

“Guess we’re down to that now...” Bart commented dourly, hearing the barking disappear in the distance after the short altercation. “Shooting dogs...” He poked the corpse of a rather mangy retriever with his hoof.

“Don’t start. It’s necessary.” Aleksei fired right back at the ex-military. “They’re not happy puppies anymore. Pack mentality is a thing. Roving dog packs were already dangerous to humans, how do you think it would go now that you’re a fraction of the size you used to be?”

“I uh...” Bart sighed and shook his head before lifting his rifle back in its sheath across his back with his telekinesis. “Ik know that… is just hard to see them like that. I was with K9 units in the army you know. I know how dogs work.” He sighed again. “Godver-… I miss Samson.”

“Eh, maybe we’ll snag a pup when we get back.” Sri came up to her mate and draped a wing over his back for comfort. “A little ball of life and joy to fill a home.”

Aleksei threw the other hippogriff a look at the remark, to which Sri responded with a knowing wink.

“I figure once you separate them from the pack at a young age they’re safe to raise, I guess.” Aleksei conceded. “Doesn’t change the fact the packs are a danger. Imagine you’re a recent returnee and you come across one of those. Dragon, griffon maybe, you’d be fine. A pony though? I’d bet a few pony returnees have already died that way, thinking the dogs weren’t a threat.”

“Not that there aren’t already many things out to kill returnees...” Bart mumbled, raising a hoof to his collar, the scar on his neck still visible from when a timberwolf attacked him upon returning.

“Unfortunately...” Aleksei nodded.

Nearly a year after the Event, all logic would have it that the current world population should be around three quarters of a million.

Truth was, it probably was much less than that.

Vehicular returnees crashing.

Monster attacks.

Demonic incursions capturing returnees and destroying colonies to make thralls.

Or simply dead due to the downfall of all infrastructure and logistics, lacking access to proper food and medicine.

Hell, even getting proper clothing was a challenge. Only a scant few species could wear human clothes without needing to retrofit them.

Really, if it weren’t for the Equestrians’ assistance at the beginning, and the Gods of Old coming back in this time of need… Aleksei doubted there would be much of humanity (if it could even be called that anymore) left.

She shook her head, shaking off the thought before turning towards Bart.

“Dogs aside… You mind taking the wheel? I know we’re headed to Diest, but you lived there, not me. It can’t be too far, right?” She inquired, looking up at the late afternoon’s sky.

“Half an hour from there.” The unicorn nodded, his tone a bit more somber at the mention of the place. “Come on… If we get going now, I might know a place where we can spend the night. Won’t have electricity running, but it beats tents.”

Diest indeed wasn’t very far away, a little town near the border between the provinces of Limburg and Brabant, where the terrain was just starting to transform from the flat fields of Flanders into the hills and hillocks more commonly present in the southern parts of Belgium. Much like most older European towns, its streets were narrow and paved, with intricately decorated buildings made up of bricks and stone. Testifying to its past as a fortified town, an old Napoleonic fort stood perched on a small hill, looming above the rest of the town, surrounded by dark trees.

It was also definitely devoid of returnees. Left deserted, most buildings bore broken windows and light weather damage, with some facades covered up to the roof in vines now frozen by the cold. In other places, saplings had grown on the sidewalks whenever vegetation managed to escape the parks and planters. As the group drove through, the wind picked up, kicking up flakes of snow and pieces of trash. The only signs of life in the area were the footprints animals left in the snow, and there were few of them.

But no intelligent life. Timberwolves that had passed through? Yes. Monsters? Yes. A single sign of scavenging or abandoned camp or colony?

None whatsoever. Not even when Bart took them to a large grassy plateau on the outskirts of town where they found a small airstrip. As per the unicorn’s explanations, it was an old training center that paratroopers used for balloon jumps. Its gates were still locked shut, with the only living creatures on the strip being a herd of horses escaped from a nearby ranch rummaging the snow for food near the wreckage of a C130 outside its hangar.

Shortly after, Sri and Aleksei noticed Bart slow down. They were getting close to the whole reason why Sri and Bart had accompanied Aleksei in the first place.

A graveyard.

To Bart, that graveyard.

It wasn’t very big, set quietly out of the way in a hollow made by the terrain in a copse of trees. A worn stone wall surrounded the graveyard, with a little bridge passing over a small brook to lead to a set of imposing wrought iron gates. As they approached, the sunlight cast at just the right angle to give the sheets of ice clinging to the gates an eerie glow.

Their truck came to a slow halt in front of the gates, with Bart staring straight at them, stone-faced and silent. Betraying his state of mind however, were the telltale sparks the unicorn’s horn was emitting. In the passenger’s seat, Aleksei cast him a sympathetic look before she reached for the key with a claw and shut the engine. Then, she turned towards Sri in the back seat and gave her fellow hippogriff a nod.

“Go. I’ll keep an eye on the truck, take all the time you need.”

Sri nodded her thanks silently. Meanwhile, Bart closed his eyes, head held low. Aleksei heard the pony mutter something in Dutch before finally making his mind and opening the door.

Aleksei looked away awkwardly, feeling a little out of place.

When she looked back, Sri and Bart were already making their way towards the gates, the hippogriff keeping a wing over her mate’s back.

Through the waters of her scrying pond, Epona observed the emotions dance across her cleric’s features. Envy. Hesitation. Regret.

The goddess mare knew exactly what each of those meant, which only broadened the knowing smirk she bore on her muzzle. Whether all the players in the game were willing to look at the results or not… the die had already been cast.

And Epona liked those results. With another smile and a slow blink of her eyes, the reflection in the pond shifted. If all went according to plan, Brittany’s Celtic fealty would be cemented for centuries at least.

Further into the hinterland, a breeze blew through a dark forest.

Wind chimes rung. An old lady cackled at Fate.

Author's Note

Took me a while, but I finally managed to spare enough time for writing to get this one out. I'll try not to be as slow posting the next chapter, but time is a resource I haven't had in spades as of late, so I cannot guarantee I'll be able to maintain a weekly update schedule in the foreseeable future.

So, here's to the beginning of a new arc and all the worldbuilding it will bring.

Aside from that, I don't feel like my vision of country-wide floods turning the Netherlands into a giant swamp is outside of the realm of possibility. I mean, if you look at the great flood of '53, it didn't even need an apocalypse to get this bad, and now you have a difference between Voorne-Putten which is populated and with its floodgates under control, and the rest of the country.

Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 2

Was a war room strictly necessary for the purposes of the WSU?

Not really.

Did it stop them from putting one together anyway?

Not either.

It wasn’t like they didn’t have the resources and equipment. Quite the contrary. With several thousands of containers left abandoned in the Maasvlakte, plus a multitude of warehouses, stockpiles, and whatever salvage they could obtain from Rotterdam, resources were hardly an issue. Logistics, yes. Manpower absolutely. But not resources.

Hence, what had initially been a fairly large meeting room within the harbor control building that the Captains used to discuss their organization’s activities and their future course of action ; had slowly but surely filled up with ever more electronics that connected it to the expansive digital framework that coursed through the building.

Hanging on a wall opposite the wide window that showed off the landscape of the port facilities, was a positively gigantic screen displaying a world map. On the sides, smaller though no less important, half-a-dozen screens relayed various pieces of information like a map of the Maasvlakte with everything the port’s sensors could show. On the adjoining walls, a few cork boards overflowing with reports had been hung alongside paper charts of some notable colonies, such as Belfast and Havana.

Along with that, a couple computer desks and a long oval table had been set up so every occupant would be able to keep an eye on the main screen.

Overall, not a bad setup. It was mostly Angelo’s work, the minotaur sort-of copying design aspects of the war room he had seen at the derelict HPI facility in France. It was easily among the most high-tech bit of equipment the WSU had in their arsenal.

Although...It did leave the room feeling no small bit cluttered, compounding into a somewhat oppressive feeling from the limited light that streamed in from the tinted window, the constant beeping and the hum of ventilation fans running constantly. Reportedly, it was extremely nerve-grating for any species with fine hearing.

In Dilip’s opinion, the issue was more that his keen canine sense of smell turned the faint smell of bleach in the room into the fastest way one could get a headache. The Diamond Dog raised his one paw and rubbed a digit against the side of his head.

“So how’s that exploration been going so far?” Dilip spoke up, looking down at the laptop he had set on one edge of the oval table.

The image shifted, showing two individuals against the backdrop of a city’s roofs which he quickly recognized as Antwerp. One was a gargoyle, Pavlos, a fairly stoutly built male with black fur and a gray mane wearing a woolen aviator’s cap tailored to fit his curly antlers, along with some thick fur-lined clothes under a military chest rig. The other, standing behind the gargoyle, was Mikhail, a very large quadruped dragon with bright purple scales and bronze-hued spikes and fins all over his form. He wore a saddle that was filled to the brim with various packs and bags held together by netting on his underside.

The dragon rider duo.

“Pretty much everything we expected.” Pavlos replied with a shrug after a second’s pause, the sat phone’s connection was far from perfect, and the latency nerve-grating. “Still quite a few art pieces worth recovering which could be sold off to the HPI. Monster presence is on the low side, which we think is owed to all the escaped zoo animals.” He told, taking a drag of his cigarette before staring directly into the webcam.

Dilip did not like it when he did that. Upon bonding his soul to Mikhail’s, the gargoyle had gained a large boost to his magic which seemed to radiate out from his blue eyes.

Unnerving really.

“They survived? The lions I sort-of expected, but the rest?”

“Predators seem to prefer picking off wild dogs than attacking large herbivores, so all the herds are generally intact. Magic’s made plants grow so fast food can still be found in winter, and even though they’re not really suited for cold weather, the city must provide enough in the way of shelter to let them survive.” Mikhail noted, the dragon’s voice a deep rumble. “Most monsters we’ve seen around here are the solitary kind, like chimeras, so they wouldn’t try attacking those animals. We found a couple wolves among the dogs, tho’.”

“So they did make their way into these parts of Europe.” Dilip frowned.

Mikhail shifted in place, moving his wings in a shrug.

“’twas only a matter of time I reckon. Probably came in from Germany. Mankind left a big power vacuum when we disappeared, and the addition of monsters and magic threw entire ecosystems off-balance. Things will keep shifting for a good while before the dust settles.”

“And we’ll make sure to keep an eye on it then.” Dilip replied after jotting down a few notes. He paused. “Say… I’ve been asked… have you two experienced anything unusual?”

“Care to clarify, sir?” Pavlos crossed his arms. “Did that come from the HPI? Because if it’s about the nuclear plant, we took the radiation readings. Containment in the cooling ponds is fine, no leakage.”

Dilip nodded slightly, though that wasn’t actually what sat on his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, the canine turned his notes to the page that held information on his latest teleconference with the HPI.

“It’s good news then, you should have the location of other such plants if you think you can take their readings… but that is not what I was referring to. Mind you, you’re correct. The requestdid come from the HPI. They say their orbital thaumic sensors have been spotting… err… anomalies in their readings, as they put it. Near cities known to have large museums.”

“Ah, then you want us to check it out?” Mikhail guessed.

“Correct. It’s hard to pinpoint, but given the finds we made in that small museum in Coatzacoalcos back in Mexico, archaeological museums should be the cause of those anomalies.” Dilip then frowned. “London and Paris, Rome even, have been showing rather extreme signs of such.” Dilip leaned closer to the webcam, a serious frown on the D-Dog’s muzzle.“Do. Not. Attempt to venture there as of now. These are highly dense clusters of suddenly-reactivated relics and artifacts, none of which you two are suited to tackle.”

“Implying you have a set goal for us, and it’s nearby.”

“Correct again. If you head south from Antwerp towards Brussels, there is the Royal Museum for Central Africa. Once you’re done in Antwerp, get over there and give us a report on what happens when you have so many magical items in close proximity to each other. That should give us the heads up for when we send expeditions to larger museums, okay?”

“We’ll get it done.” Pavlos nodded. “Can’t say how fast just yet with all our recon still on the table. How high priority is this?”

“Don’t lose sleep over it, but make sure not to botch the report. HPI’s paying for it. Handsomely.”

“Understood. Will that be all, Captain?” Pavlos asked, the gargoyle straightening up.

“Yes. Best of luck, don’t hesitate to fly back when the supplies run low.” Dilip concluded before cutting off the feed.

Well… that was one thing done. Five hundred more to go. The Diamond Dog had to bite back a frustrated growl after pulling out his agenda. No matter what he was doing, tasks just seemed to pile on and on, faster than he could tackle them. They had the HPI on one side, their colonies on the other, the HQ here in Rotterdam to take care of, along with all the prospects and possibilities they needed to fulfill if they wanted to keep to their charter and broaden the network of colonies and trade routes.

Simply put? Too much to do and not enough folks to get it done.

Always the same damn problem.

Always.

The graveyard’s gates parted with a loud creak of rusted metal, bits of snow and ice falling before being carried off in the breeze. Sri watched the glow of Bart’s telekinetic grip fade from the gates… but the unicorn didn’t move, just looking into the graveyard with a forlorn look in his gray eyes, not daring to cross the little bridge that led to the gates.

Sri squeezed the wing she kept draped over his back.

“It’s alright. I’m with you.” She comforted him.

Bart didn’t say anything at first, then he glanced up at her with a small smile.

“Thank you.” He said, planting a quick kiss on the underside of the hippogriff’s beak before he put his first hoof forward.

The graveyard was quiet, the sound of the brook by the gates dulled by the walls, leaving only the soft breeze and snow creaking under their steps as they slowly made their entrance. The first tombs by the gates were old and worn, dedicated to people that had died over a hundred years prior, some had even crumbled away, with a few iron crosses tilted in the soil.

Further in, past a few rows that had been filled over the years, more recent and better-tended tombs appeared, though time since the Event meant pictures had been bleached white by the sun, and plants had long rotted or frozen in their vases.

The one exception, one of the last and most recent tombs, was the tomb Bart went for. The odd blotch of color in a sea of gray and white, plastic flowers strewn about the grave by a gust of wind. Bart quickly gathered them in his magic and put them back in place while Sri glanced at the engravings on the tombstone.

Elke De Mesmaeker

Jan 12 2001 – Sep 22 2013

And below was a phrase in dutch she didn’t understand, enshrined by a little daisy flower and a fairy near a faded picture under some glass. Sri heard Bart sniff, before the unicorn lay down in front of the grave, heedless of the snow.

“She was the joy in my life, you know?” Bart finally started after three minutes of complete silence. “My little Ellie… I remember when I first held her. We… we had been trying for years, and she was so small when she came out. But she was the bravest girl I ever laid my eyes on.” He sniffed fondly. “Always wanting to go on some adventure, to be strong like papa.”

“Guess a girl like her would have loved seeing you now.” Sri attempted. “Papa-pony, eh?” She squeezed her companion with her wing, laying close to him.

“Ah!” Bart laughed hollowly. “She did have her horse phase, ja. There were pictures all over her bedroom… even made me study horse breeds by heart. Calmed down a bit with the horses after that, but it stuck with her. We didn’t really have the means to buy and feed a horse, but I used to take her to a ranch nearby, on weekends.”

Sri saw him close his eyes for a second, as though he was reliving those memories for a mere instant.

From an outside view, the two went silent for a minute more, the only sign of life coming from them being their fogged breaths.

“Can I ask...” Sri tried, trailing off pointedly.

The muscles of her equine friend’s jaw tightened visibly.

“Sri… Ik- sorry, I… I don’t know how it usually goes in Indonesia, but in these parts of Belgium, we really like our bikes.”

“Like the Dutch?”

“Pretty much.” Bart nodded, his features gaining a look of mixed pain and anger as the memories flooded back. “So it’s very common for kids to simply bike to school. Ellie had been doing that since she was four. Never any issue. No accidents. Until...”

Sri’s eyes widened in realization.

“She was twelve. Kept insisting she was all grown-up and she didn’t need me or her mother to accompany her to school.” He gulped. “Left in the morning. Wasn’t until ten that school called. Eleven when she was found. Too late by then. Way too late.” Bart’s eyes shone with the telltale glint of repressed tears, though his features looked furious rather than sad. “Twelve years old, and she spent over three hours lying in a ditch by the side of the road with forty fractured bones screaming for help. Tore up her vocal chords trying, the docs said when they took a look at her.” He shook his head before swearing something under his breath. “She never woke up. After three days in the ICU, it was over. And you know the worst thing? It was only then that they got around to telling me. Because I was in godver- Kunduz at the time! Three. Fucking. Days. Before the dommekut that used to be my superior went ahead and told me my daughter was dying and ‘oh, excuseer eerst-caporal-chef, news came, she’s dead now’. Prick. Deserved the stitches I gave him.”

Sri tightened the wing she kept draped over his back, noticing the angry sparks the unicorn was starting to release from his horn.

“And you know what’s worse? Worse than the fact the hit-and-run driver was never found? Worse than them...” He practically spat the word. “...thinking it’s fine to wait three days before telling a father his child is in the ICU?” He deflated abruptly. “She thought I’d be there to protect her. And there she was, screaming for three hours, and dad never came. I’d heard her brag to her friends that her dad was a soldier. That I’d be there to protect her. Protect your kid, that’s the most basic task of a parent… and I failed. I went all over the place, all over the world, and what killed her was a moron behind a wheel instead of a bullet. I could have been there if I hadn’t gone. I could have warned her-”

“You couldn’t.” Sri cut him off.

Bart opened his mouth to retort.

“It’s not your fault Bart.” She kept going, lifting up a claw to start stroking Bart’s back for comfort. The unicorn was tense. “You said it yourself: Elke thought she was old enough to go by herself. Even if you had been there, you’d either have let her go on her own, or you’d have insisted, and she’d have hated you for it. The school would still have given the warning too late, and it wouldn’t have changed a thing.” The hippogriff reasoned calmly. “You didn’t fail to protect your child. In fact I’m positive you are an excellent father.”

He didn’t seem to notice her inflection in the last sentence, but she felt her companion relax, somewhat. Idly, Sri wrapped her talons around one of his hooves.

“I’m sorry for your loss Bart. Truly. And I want you to know… if you’re worried and feel talking about it would hel-”

Sri was interrupted when the unicorn raised his head to plant a quick kiss on her beak. She caught herself blushing, ears going flat against her head.

“It does help, thank you.” Bart gave a small smile, still looking sorrowful… but better. Then he turned towards his daughter’s tomb, his horn flashing once.

A whirlwind of magic rose up around the tomb, instantly sweeping away snow and accumulated grime while gathering the plastic flowers and gently depositing them in vases around the headstone. With another flash of magic, the faded picture of Elke regained its lost colors. Bart stood up quietly.

“Tot ziens Ellie, papa komt je later bezoeken.” He concluded in his native tongue before turning away, back towards the gates.

The evening that followed was spent at a nearby farm which, although long vacated by both inhabitants and cattle, still had sturdy shutters and enough firewood for the night. They set up in front of the fireplace in the large living room before scrounging around for some leftover cans and dry food they ate so as not to dig too deep into their own supplies. By the time they finished their makeshift dinner and Aleksei was done giving a status report over the radio, the sun had set and what little light streamed out the window and into the farm’s courtyard showed snow falling quietly.

Aleksei watched the flakes land on the hood of the Defender for a minute before closing the shutters. She wasn’t too worried anything would bother them during the night. For one, the cleric had made sure her wards were set up around the farm… And for second, the region seemed mostly desert. Monsters and intelligent creatures could be sneaky, but they always left traces. Timberwolves tore up vegetation. Quarray eels would leave holes. Even returnees were easy to notice provided you paid attention to loot markers.

None of those in the region. Hence: a quiet night. She could already see the snuggled forms of Sri and the smaller Bart, both holding each other close under sheets, snoozing quietly with their bedding laid down near the hearth, the remaining embers still giving out a faint crackle.

With a yawn, the cleric waved her talons and watched the air shimmer before her, confirming her wards were locked shut and tight. Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she turned away from the window and finally headed for her own sleeping bag she’d set down on a dusty couch. She slid in neatly after shedding off her clerical robes and travel attire.

What greeted her soon after closing her eyes however, wasn’t the reprieve of dreams, but the now-familiar sight of a grassy plateau filled with equines under eldritch skies.

Epona’s realm in the Otherworld. And like most of her visits there, Aleksei appeared in a translucent projection of herself… which was unfortunately clad – un-clad rather- in her sleeping attire. Biting back that signature mix of equine neigh and avian trill hippogriffs made when annoyed, she decided to ignore that last detail and made a beeline through the tall grass in the general direction she knew Epona’s scrying pond was situated.

Although… she did take note that the realm seemed to be expanding, both in its population and detail. There were notably more creatures frolicking about the plateau, and more than just the horses she’d seen on her first visit there. Ponies – the Equestrian types that is- of various tribes, a couple hippogriffs and seaponies like herself, most cluttered around a small lake on the outer edge, even a couple centaurs too. That same outer edge of the plateau also bore the first buildings Aleksei had ever laid eyes in the realm. Crude log cottages with grass on their roofs, but a definite first on the grassy plateau.

In a way it shouldn’t have surprised her. After all, wasn’t it logical that an equine goddess would gain power that fast, given most returnee species had equine traits? The civilizing too, wasn’t much of a surprise, given Epona went from a patron of ‘mere’ horses (though they were still noble animals) to several sentient races.

What did surprise her when she actually reached her deity’s scrying pond, was what Epona looked like.

In fact she was so surprised she did a double-take at the sight and almost forgot to kneel before Epona in the usual fashion. Not that her vowed deity minded, but…

“Apologies for my rudeness, milady…” Aleksei stammered quickly. “I was just taken away by your looks. To what honor do I owe your summoning me tonight?” She inquired, sneaking a glance at the Goddess.

It seemed Epona had opted for the same logic of being relatable to her followers that some of her children – like Morvarc’h- had already been doing for a while. No longer was she a mere horse, however exceptional she may have been as one, but instead before Aleksei, perched on a dais that overlooked her pond, stood an alicorn version of her sworn deity. She still was a chestnut mare with white blotches covering her fetlocks and snout, except now the markings of three horses chasing each other in a circle of Celtic curls had moved to her hindquarters like a Cutie Mark. Her pearly white mane and tail which previously had been carefully braided, now floated behind her as though set in motion by an invisible wind.

And that divine aura was still wrapped around her, strands of golden magic floating about while her eyes glowed with gold, looking right at her.

Aleksei averted her gaze.

“Rise my child.” Epona spoke up after a second, once again surprising the hippogriff by speaking instead of conveying her meaning through telepathy. “There is no urgency in my summons tonight, only the need to ensure my clergy stays informed of the tides of this world. You in particular should take heed. The Fates are winding themselves around the Black Forest. I fear more awaits you there than your own quest, and that which would have far more sway than you do.”

“I’m but a cleric, milady. Such shouldn’t surprise me.”

“That ‘but’ would be an error in judgment, Lady Klavins. You are a cleric, true, but you’re my First and most powerful priestess in this Age. You have my trust that you will abide by your vows and carry out my will. Do not think lightly of it. You may not be the biggest fish in the pond, but you are by no means negligible either. Remember that. I have bestowed many boons upon you, in body and in magic.”

“And I shall use them wisely.” Aleksei promised.

Epona threw Aleksei a look the hippogriff didn’t know whether to read as sympathetic or knowing.

“I know you will. But heed my warnings. Do not take the Fey lightly, nor underestimate the Magics of the Wilds. Much awaits you still. Provided you make the right choices, greater heights may welcome you.” Epona warned, before her features turned more cheerful. “Aside from your own ventures however, our faith grows. Two more clerics have joined my fold this month, and believers all across the Celtic Nations and further flock towards our faith, many of them thanks to yourself. There is even word of the Hound returning and taking an apprentice to train into the Otherworld.”

“The Cù has returned?!” Aleksei’s eyes widened.

“Aye, by King Lugh’s decision, his son will now personally ensure Eire always has a protector. Both to keep the peace from without, as from within.” Epona nodded sagely before noticing something that made a smile appear on her muzzle. “I also needed to keep you up to date on the state of Brittany, but I do believe my own son is better suited for that than myself.” She said, the alicorn unfolding a wing and nudging Aleksei to turn the opposite direction, in time to see Morvarc’h emerge from the tall grass.

Aleksei’s heart fluttered at the sight of the stallion. Nostrils filling with his scent as he approached her and planted a kiss on her forehead. Her wings sprang open.

When she roused from her dreamwalk later in the night, Aleksei made sure to slip away to go clean her sleeping bag.

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“A floating city, you heard me.” Aleksei repeated to Sri, steering the Defender onto the side of the road to avoid a fallen power line. “It’s the City of Ys. Morv’ said he used to serve as the King’s stallion there before it sank for whatever reason.”

“Yeah like Atlantis.” Bart piped in from the back of the truck.

“I mean… kinda? I told you he didn’t go into details on the sinking, only that he’s planning to refloat it, and that now he’s actually managed to find the first ruins.”

“Wait, for real?” Sri tore her eyes away from the GPS and looked at Aleksei in disbelief. “Your boyfriend actually found French Atlantis? Damn...” She whistled, genuinely impressed. “Talk about luck. Over a thousand years buried under the sea, and he finds it in a few months’ time.”

“He’s no- No. Nevermind.” Aleksei shook her head. “Not biting that bait. But yeah, very lucky, ‘xcept now he’s got to find a way to actually, you know, repair and refloat a city.” She shrugged with her wings. “I figure anything that’s been under there for that long, can’t be easy to bring back up, magic or no magic. And there’s a bunch of stuff he’d need to scrap completely and replace with modern tech.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, which do you find more obvious? To avoid letting the city sink again or because you do need modern amenities?” Aleksei pointed out.

“I’m calling bull on that last one, we all know there are some communities that shun tech. Ask Fugro’s crew, they'll be happy to tell ya’.” Sri countered. “You can convince colonists to join without chucking plasma TV’s at them ya know.”

“Yeah I guess that’s fair...” Aleksei trailed off. “It’s just I had these thoughts on Ys. Stuff that could be useful to keep a city afloat. I mean, I’m an engineer, ain’t that supposed to be what I’m all about?”

“What, so now you want to move in with your big hunk of a stallion?” Sri laughed.

“Aw, shaddap.” The cleric gave her fellow hippogriff a mock punch in the shoulder before setting her focus back on the road as the terrain got progressively rougher.

It had barely been twenty minutes since they left the farm behind, and already the expanding mass of the Ardennes was rearing its ugly head with its effects on the landscape, compounding with the snowfall from the previous night which had laid a thick blanket over anything in view.

Which in itself meant Aleksei had to be twice as careful – and twice as slow- as she would otherwise have been lest she hit an obstacle or sent their truck skidding off the side of the road.

They weren’t even in the foothills yet, and the effects of the magic forest were already dawning on them. First it was the electronics: the GPS lost reception, Sandra’s voice from the day’s broadcast turned into the crackle of static on the radio, and their own personal satellite phones shut down, their batteries emptied.

Meaning if they ever stopped the engine while in there, restarting would be a pain in the ass.

Then they started seeing the signs. The anti-tech decay. Road cracked and falling apart. Power lines fallen to the ground and with their insulator layer seemingly decomposing not a year after the Event. Buildings with their roofs caved in and falling apart, with only winter halting the spread of vegetation as it crawled up the ruins.

And there was the vegetation too. As the foothills turned into the Ardennes proper, they first saw entire fields of young trees, most already three meters tall, that had sprouted and grown in a matter of months all over the place. Ruins so thickly covered in vines you could barely see the bricks underneath, some of them so thick their growth had ground the stone to dust until the plant was a trunk on its own, lifting up rusty girders that used to be a factory’s roof.

It was a testimony to how badly the land was warped, that Bart, a career soldier very much used to navigating his way around his own country’s rural areas, could barely steer them the correct way as they headed south as quickly as they could. Even the larger towns, some of which had been industrial hot spots in their own time, were ever so surely being swallowed by the enchanted forest, ground back to their base components.

The cities were in ruins. The towns were swamped down by vines and creeping vegetation. The villages were already young forest and heathlands.

And the forest itself…

Aleksei could feel a chill of foreboding creep up her spine as she stared at them. Oaks and pines, most as wide as a truck and winding their branches into one another’s for support, their bark twisted and gnarly from the insanely fast growth rate. Little in the way of light managed to carve its way through the canopy, and what did was only illuminating the cold fog that spread out between their trunks.

Oh, there were breaks in the forestry alright. A bit of an icy swamp there. Some heathland there. A snowy meadow that used to be a four-lane road.

But that still didn’t help the unease Aleksei felt whenever she looked at the expanse. Whatever entity had decided the Ardennes would turn that way… wasn’t a welcoming one. She’d seen a couple standing stones planted here and there in the ground, adorned with runes and sigils, celtic in their origin, but badly twisted. And those same sigils, they saw them on the odd ancient oak and animal they crossed paths with, each and every single one of them glowing with a faint silvery light that sent sparks flying in the breeze.

“This place…” Bart mumbled something in Flemish. “Wat duivel… It’s not right. This feels wrong.” The pony said.

“Damn right it does.” Aleksei nodded curtly, her eyes going back and forth between the road ahead of them and the truck’s gauges to make sure she didn’t stall the engine. There would be no second start if they did. “Last time I only flew over the region. From the ground… it’s much worse actually. As soon as we’re out of this place, I’m calling the fleet to tell them to put a big red warning label over the area. I know there’s supposed to be a goddess in the celtic pantheon that has this forest as her domain… but she hasn’t shown signs of life since the Event, which has many divinities in the pantheon concerned.”

“Can gods even die?” Sri piped in.

Aleksei frowned, unsure.

“Are they even alive to begin with?” She started her reply, her status as cleric making her doubly careful of her choice of words. “They’re beings of magic, manifested by the will of many. I don’t think death equates to the same thing to them as it does to us, except maybe when… if they take a corporeal form. The concerns mostly stem from the fact Arduinna was a regional goddess with a domain on the outer borders of the Celtic Nations. Past that, it’s Germanic territory.” The cleric tried her best to explain without overstepping the limits of her status.

“So they think she might have switched allegiances?” Bart guessed.

Aleksei nodded.

“Germanic or Roman, could be either, though I’ve also overheard some gods with multiple ties were treating pantheons like pubs during a bar crawl. Not Epona for sure, though she’s got an ear over what’s going on in the Roman pantheon.”

And that one was really the worst offender as shifty divine allegiances went. Part of why the WSU wasn’t in too much of a hurry to explore the Mediterranean too: let them sort out their allegiances first, then come actually do some work once the dust had settled. A few months’ wait would be more than enough, mid-2016 would be about the right time to sort that out.

In the meantime, the hours came and went as their truck continued its progress, sometimes forced to backtrack when faced with a particularly dense thicket, other times slowed down to a crawl by thick powdery snow, but the Defender kept going nonetheless, winding its way down narrow sinewy roads and ruined valleys. A pack of wolves (regular ones, not the car-sized dire wolves of the Black Forest) tried its luck against them around noon… and failed miserably, turning tail after the first few tracers landed in the snow ahead of them.

Packing 7.62 instead of the usual 5.56 was a good idea.

The highlight of the day came soon after that particular event, near the midway point in their traversal of the forest. It was after Aleksei drove the Defender down the slopes of a river valley and was nearing a fordable spot, that they actually met… someone? It was hard to discern at first, the dense vegetation and fog making it incredibly hard to see very far, but they saw a shape through the haze. Large. Dark. Awaiting on the other edge of the river.

Bart’s horn instinctively came alight, the glow of the unicorn’s magic wrapping around his rifle and chambering a round.

Aleksei wrinkled her nose as a strong scent suddenly filled the air, unmistakable. Boars. Lots of them.

As they drew closer to the ford, the dark shape made itself clearer, it too coming to cross.

It was a bulky wagon assembled together from logs which had been intricately carved before being smeared in a mix of tar, resin and pigment. It looked rough, but cozy, with a small chimney trailing smoke poking through a roof of wooden shingles. Tools, packs and knick-knacks had been hung off its sides, along with some feed-baskets, low to the ground. Idly, the group of three noted that whatever metal could be seen to be very crude at best. Pig iron.

Drawing the wagon was the cause of the smell. A large herd of some two-dozen wild boars led by four males each sporting impressive tusks which had been decorated with pigment. They all wore harnesses and walked in neat order, dutifully pulling the wagon. Sometimes, one of them would un-hitch itself and go grab a bite off the feed bags hanging off the wagon. In passing, and Bart only noticed them then, they would check on the piglets which were following shortly behind, guarded by a pair of sows.

The wagon had an owner obviously… one that made them blink.

It was a large figure, about as bulky as a minotaur albeit in a shorter stature with broader shoulders, clad in several layers of wolf fur and leather, sitting nearly motionless at the wagon’s reins. He was some sort of giant boar with bristly, dark brown fur. He looked at them unconcerned through a pair of shining, silvery eyes as they crossed paths, slowly taking puffs from the carved pipe he held in his maw.

The boar man just gave the trio a curt nod as their Defender emerged on the other side of the ford before he tugged the reins of his wagon and led his own boars across, muttering a greeting in a tongue Aleksei didn’t recognize before he starting humming a song in that same language.

Bart would later identify that language as Walloon, a dialect native to the region.

She did however quickly pull out a notepad and made a quick sketch of a few symbols she saw on his wagon. Maybe Lady Epona could figure out where the creature’s allegiances lay…

Not a minute later, the creature was gone, his silhouette swallowed up by fog and vegetation.

“What was that?” Sri finally asked after a minute of complete silence, Aleksei only then realizing she had left the truck idling, staring off towards where the creature had disappeared.

“I have no idea.” She shook her head. “It’s not a returnee species for certain… but some gods do modify their followers upon joining. Like Xolotl did to Los Lobos when he created wolf-dogs and jaguar warriors, so he could have been a returnee? I think?”

“So he could have been something else?” Sri inquired.

“If it’s not a returnee… not a demonic follower, definitely not...” Aleksei hesitated. “Could it have been a magical creature? But I’ve never heard of anything like it… No clue, sorry. No clue.” She concluded with a shrug of her wings before turning her eyes back on the road. “We’ll send a report about him. Maybe that’ll turn up something. Probably not.”

The rest of their journey that day was less eventful and… a bit boring even. Since they couldn’t really stop the truck lest it didn’t start up again, they decided to cross all the Ardennes in one go, taking turns at the wheel over the course of several hours of offroading, backtracking, and intermittently letting one of the two hippogriffs out to fly up and figure out where they were exactly.

At least river beds had changed little, and the decay had yet to fully deconstruct high voltage lines, so they could rely on the pylons to steer themselves the right way.

Nevertheless, it was already near dusk when they finally saw the influence of the Ardennes ebb and finally cease as they crossed what used to be the border of the Grand-Duchy of Luxembourg, forestry finally making space for meadows and abandoned villages and towns which had sadly become the norm in this brave new world.

With yawns interrupting her sentences at increasingly more frequent intervals, Aleksei made her reports to the admiralty over the sat phone before the group found an old motel and elected to set up camp and turn in for the night.

Author's Note

At long last I've managed to put enough time aside to finish one more chapter. I swear it never was this hard for tome 1, but I guess you gotta make do with what you have.

And what I have... is not much free time unfortunately.

Nevertheless, I do hope this was enough to sate your curiosity and add some neat elements to the worldbuilding of the tidalverse. I try to pair advancing the story with small-and-large scale bits of worldbuilding, hopefully it works out.

As for why I chose to have the Ardennes that way... I would have to look deep to find the quote, but I think it was the French poet Appolinaire that said of the Ardennes (and translation may twist my words) that: [...] Of Men it makes Beasts, and of Beasts it makes Monsters [...]. So there you have why I made it that way.

Hope you liked the read, I'll be working on the next chapter for a good while. Depending on my schedule, could be... next chapter in three to four weeks?

Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 3

“So tell me Miss Jensen, how goes your work with the radio station?” Dilip calmly inquired as the canine served a fresh cup of tea to the much smaller batpony across from him.

Sandra tore her eyes away from looking at the decorations around the room and tapped a wingtip against her snout, searching for words. The two were having a meeting of sorts on Amandine – which was fine by her, since she did have broadcasting equipment on board – in the Captain’s office.

As per usual, the room was decorated with various items accrued over the course of their travels, including the most recent addition of a group shot of the crew taken after the battle in Mexico. She rather liked the feel of the room, it gave one-on-one meetings with the Captain like this one a more informal tone.

That said, with few on board to run maintenance and the rest of the crew ashore in Brielle… the vessel was almost deathly quiet. Unnervingly so, when Sandra had grown used to the bustling of activity, chatter and running engines to the point where the batpony had to keep a set of headphones on most of the time to avoid injuring her sensitive hearing.

“It’s err… it’s going very well Captain.” She started after a few seconds. “We’ve set aside some space for our broadcasting equipment in harbor control and linked it to the mainframe to pass on our data. We also have a comms relay set up in Brielle to convert our sat radio broadcast to FM, and in addition to the broadcasting station we already have on Amandine, I’ve ensured the one on Rhine Forest was upgraded to a fully-fledged one, and another on Fugro should be finished next week.”

“On Fugro?” Dilip’s ear twitched, denoting curiosity.

“Aye Cap’n. We wanted to up the ante, so we had Lekan and I making broadcasts previously, and now we’re inviting Scott on board so we have three presenters, one per ship.” She explained.

“Scott, hmmm...” Dilip took a sip of his tea and trailed off, drawing a blank on the name.

“Scott Price, their Assistant Steward, a Hedgefog. He volunteered as soon as we asked, and so far we’re not regretting the decision. He’s got a great voice for radio, the accent helps too.” Sandra clarified, nodding sagely.

“So that’s the three of you then?”

“Yes and no… Managing WSU Radio and organizing the broadcasts, checking connectivity with our relays, that’s our stuff, but since we try to spread knowledge on how to survive and create colonies, we’ve kept ties with the Intel Officers in the fleet and anyone who’s willing to lend their expertise when we record our broadcasts.”

“And in turn any info you gather in passed on to Intel I take it?” He guessed. “That’s how you’ve come to know about some colonies? They contact you on their own.”

“Correct sir.” She nodded. “Some, I openly tell about if they’re fine with it, others just request for specific data or recorded podcasts, but I do keep tabs on all the info that passes through. I’ve got contacts with Aussies, some in Africa, and recently I’ve started getting logs from a group that’s found a ship and is sailing down the Missisippi trying to join us.”

“Oh are they now?”

“I’m steering them towards Havana in the meantime, hopefully we’ll have a ship there to pick them up by the time they get there.” Sandra told him. “Though I’ll give you that, most of the contacts I get that want to join us here in Rotterdam, they’re Europeans, not Yanks.” She shrugged with her wings. “Got some more groups headed our way that are bound to turn up. I usually pass down how many of them there are, their races, their jobs, to Roberto so he can log that. That should be… half-a-dozen arrivals a month? Ten if we’re lucky? I’m sorry it’s not much, but...”

“It’s more than fine, rest easy. You’re doing good work.” The Captain comforted her. “Those manpower shortages are really what’s slowing us down, and I couldn’t ask better than having folks dedicated to solving that. The sooner we sort that out, the sooner we can expand.” Dilip smiled. “Good job, any particular plans beyond that? Specialists you would need?” He inquired.

“IT workers sir. Hardware or software, we’ll need both, but more of the latter.” Sandra started, recalling a conversation she’d had about that exact topic with the Intel Officers. “Thing is… our data management is a mess right now. It’s really just folders within folders without much sorting. We can make do, but it’s tedious. What we could use, is something like a website, or a platform, that we can connect to remotely. Thing is, we need access to our whole database wherever we go, to organize scavenging, and it would also really help with colonial management and setting up the trade routes. Think… Ebay crossbred with Wikipedia and Google Earth?”

“Watch your scope creep there.” Dilip warned. “I know centralizing data would be nifty, but chances are that even if we find someone that could pull it off, we’ll only have the resources and bandwidth for a library-style database. No need to be greedy.” He advised her, setting down his teacup.

“Understood. Uh… so yes, I think that’s about all? Roberto will probably process all the intel I give him into a report, and if any of those folks up on the Missisipi have something that would warrant giving them your details, I will. So far, I only gave them Alejandro's details so he can give some nautical tips, but they're competent enough it seems.”

“Thank you Miss Jensen.” Dilip decided to bring the conversation to its due conclusion, standing up and extending a paw down towards the batpony. “Glad to have you on my crew.”

“Thanks Captain.” Sandra beamed, revealing her fangs as she shook his paw gingerly before she took off and left the office.

Dilip sat back down behind his desk, remaining silent for a while, thinking, before he pulled a drawer open and uncorked a vial of glowing golden potion. Healthcare-grade healing potion, and he felt the usual ensuing fatigue as soon as it entered his body, like a lead blanket had been laid on his shoulders as the magic used his energy to rebuild his missing limb. Not very convenient, but necessary.

With a sigh, the spent potion was tossed in a bin. He wasn’t particularly busy that day, all personnel available had already been provided with weekly plannings that already accounted for Rhine Forest’s upcoming departure for the Americas, and all projects were being handled by their respective departments.

Really, the most involved task that could possibly await him that day would be to tour the farmsteads that had been resettled around Brielle, and even then barring a few greenhouses and stables, it was the dead of winter, so not much activity there.

Only waiting for teams to give their reports when they were done, and on that front Aleksei had yet to reach the Black Forest last he checked, and… well, there was still the mystery of what Mikhail and Pavlos would find at the Africa Museum.

Now that couldn’t go too weirdly, could it?

“What the fuck is that?”Pavlosmumbled aloud, lowering his binoculars.

“That… is a urinal.” The dragon under him commented over their mental connection, his rider feeling the thrum he’d learned to identify as amusement pass across.

“Yeah I can see that!” Pavlos replied right back, leaning deeper into the saddle as a gust of wind rocked them while they circled their target high above the ground. “Now what’s it doing floating thirty meters off the ground?”

Because there was, indeed, a floating urinal lazily hovering above a hole in the roof of the building, swaying in the breeze like a kite. It was, though by far the oddest, not the only object attending the apparent protest against gravity around the museum. Various bits of paper, books, loose tiles and masonry were floating above a gaping hole blown through the roof of the late 19th century building. Along with those, strands of multicolored magic had burst through, some wrapping around the building like vines, others rising up like trees. Their glow was faint, but enough to cast an aura around the museum under the late afternoon’s sun. Adding to that, the aura of the museum seemed to ward off the current winter, allowing for the park’s vegetation to flourish with the slightest frost or snow to slow it down.

The museum would have been imposing at its peak, an old monument dedicated to the findings made in Belgian Congo that lined up with the surrounding – now overgrown- park and its ponds. It was a wide rectangle-shaped construction with a tall, transparent cupola on its roof, and a courtyard in the middle. In front of its gates, a large statue of an elephant stood…

… or it would have, if it wasn’t wandering through the pathways around the museum right then.

“Now that ain’t something you see everyday...” Mikhail rumbled, the purple feral dragon angling his wings to get a better look at the animal that didn’t quite seem to grasp it didn’t have a mouth to swallow the leaves it was grabbing with its trunk.

“You think it’s aggressive?” Pavlos wondered, the gargoyle idly stroking a finger against the holster where he kept his machinegun on Mikhail’s saddle.

“Probably? Not like I’d put myself in a posture where it would matter if it is or not.” Mikhail eyed the elephant again before banking for another pass and gesturing towards the park’s pathways with a talon. “Look at the tracks it’s left behind. Doesn’t look like it strays too far away from here… my guess is...”

“That something in there is feeding it power?” Pavlos completed.

Without even needing to look, Mikhail slapped Pavlos’ wrist with his ear for cutting him off, the gargoyle’s only response to the gesture being a brief chuckle.

“And, it keeps urinals airborne for some reason.”

“Investigate?” Pavlos started unbuckling the straps keeping him tied to his dragon companion for long flights.

“What are we here for? Picking flowers?”

This time it was Pavlos that flicked Mikhail’s ear.

“Like I’d let you nap on the roof while I’m doing all the work.” Pavlos joked.

“Oh? And what am I supposed to do then? One, I got no thumbs...” The dragon pointed out. “Second, I can barely fit in there. Probably.”

“There’s no probably there pal, it’s an old museum, they built them wide back then.” The gargoyle said over the mental link before he let himself fall off the saddle, spreading his wings to descend in a slow glide.

“Like your m-”

“Oh shut up.” Pavlos rolled his eyes, though it didn’t stop the glow of mirth that passed through their mental link, bringing a smile to his muzzle as he touched down near the hole in a roof, the tiles clicking slightly under his hooves.

The roof trembled behind him as his companion came to a landing, the dragon much less discrete than he was.

“Pray tell, what do you expect to do inside there?” Mikhail queried, twisting his neck to look over the comparatively diminutive gargoyle.

“I think I’ve got a way to give the HPI scientists the exact kind of readings they want, and it won’t cost me much mana. Just make sure I don’t have to waste it on constructs like Mr. Elephant out there.”

“Why would there be other constructs?”

Pavlos tapped a digit against the side of his head.

“Think.” The gargoyle warned. “When we checked the data we could find on the museum, the statue of the elephant had tribals sitting on its back. You see them now?”

“Ah, I see.”

“Well… no. Which is my point.”

“Potato-potayto, you jumping in or do I need to push you?” Mikhail growled.

“Fine then.” Pavlos raised a hand and summoned his gun from the saddle with telekinesis before taking the leap and hopping down the hole.

As a testament to the gravity-defying anomaly that had blown through the roof, he didn’t even need to spread his wings to slow his fall. When he landed, he did a quick sweep of his surroundings with his gun, unveiling dusty, damaged and dimly lit hallways… but nothing that jumped at him to tear his face off. Only the glow of his gun’s flashlight, and the multicolored strands of magic.

He breathed in. The air felt charged with energy. The focis on his forearms almost lit up on their own from the ambient magic.

There was a loud crash behind him as Mikhail followed, accidentally crushing a display case of rare minerals under his bulk. It was a bit cramped for the large feral, but he could fit inside alright.

“Target?” Said dragon asked over their link.

“Let’s see...” Pavlos shone his flashlight over a plan of the museum hanging off the wall “Given what we know, the art section is unlikely to be causing that, and I don’t think biodiversity would either. Meaning we’re going for anthropology for the ‘cultures and ceremonies’ exposition.”

“Lead on.”

To the credit of 19th century architecture, the museum’s interior was as far removed from an eyesore as it could possibly be, though the various displays made it hard for Mikhail to squeeze past without toppling them.

Much glass was shattered that day.

The minerals’ section they had entered through wasn’t much to look at in terms of magic, more so in terms of light snacks – gems that is- for Mikhail to chew on idly as Pavlos carefully advanced, the gargoyle cautiously eyeing the strands of magic weaving all over the place, some so intense they had drilled straight through the museum’s structure. Each thrummed with power, almost raw ambient magic bent and altered by the concentrated presence of so many artifacts in close proximity of each other.

It was when they reached the ceremonial section of the museum that things took a more interesting turn, and that Pavlos turned off his gun’s flashlight. It wasn’t necessary anymore: the entire exhibit was aglow with vibrant magic.

The mana in the air was in fact, so intense that Pavlos had to pause and massage his forearms as the foci in his bones charged up. Out of habit, his dragon companion sent him a wave of soothing through their mental link.

“Thanks.” Pavlos nodded, already eyeing a set of wooden masks on pedestals. “Now...”

“What’s your plan?”

“A little bit of magic is the plan.” The gargoyle grinned before lifting one arm and summoning his power.

With a flick of his wrist, he cast mage sight.

It wasn’t a very hard spell to cast in itself, nor did it cost much power. The difficulty with it was that you had to know how to interpret the results correctly, how to adjust its settings, and also the little twists Pavlos had taken the liberty of adding to the base spell.

The first one being that he didn’t cast it on his own eyes, he cast it on the goggles of the aviator’s cap he wore, the glass instantly gaining an iridescent hue from the magic as he lowered them over his muzzle. He kept one paw up and charged with mana, already tuning the spell to the ambient magic as his other paw reached into pouch hanging off his belt, filled with a blank photo album.

A roundabout way of snapping pictures of the magic around them, including what wasn’t on the visible spectrum.

Though he was no expert at it, gargoyles like Pavlos had this intuitive grasp of spellcrafting that allowed them to tune spells on the go like that, which proved rather useful in… well, he really was no expert, but to him it felt like highlighting the different layers of magic. He felt a prodding in his mind, which he recognized as Mikhail requesting to see through his eyes over their mental link.

“Feast your eyes then.” He complied, to which the dragon replied with a half-appreciative half-awed rumble.

Most of the artifacts spread out among regular items in the exhibit weren’t particularly powerful or interesting. Enchanted masks, relics and whatnot that might have been of some us, but none they had the time or will to inspect in detail to determine whether or not they were safe to pick up. Pavlos could spot them easily enough, some radiant with magic, others more muted, less conspicuous.

More interesting than that, were the interactions between all the artifacts. If each was a drop of water hitting the surface of a lake, the ripples they caused were the fluctuations in magic around them.

And they reverberated off each other. Sure, maybe two artifacts weren’t on the same spectrum or power range to directly interact, but if two were, then the fluctuation they caused could in turn bounce off – and amplify off- of other artifacts’ fluctuations.

All those would in turn feed off each other to reach ever higher levels.

Naturally, he wasn’t getting the full picture, that much he was aware of. Interactions he couldn’t see, gaps he didn’t have the knowledge or skill to fill.

But the short picture was that the magic of the enchantments in close proximity of each other was amplifying itself. He could visualize the points where it did that in the air, knots of a sort, that beat and thrummed like semi-visible hearts of mana of increasing size and power. They grouped up in clusters: some near a pair of artifacts, large ones between two clusters, up until it increased to balls of mana the size of Pavlos’ fist at which point thin strands of magic flowed between them.

Pavlos blinked, then turned his head towards the pulsating root-like strands of magic that had drilled holes through the building.

There was some serious power in there… He felt a cold sweat form in the back of his neck. If one exhibit was already forming clusters the size of his fist, he dreaded to see the…

“The what?” Mikhail ‘bumped’ his train of thought, noting him struggle for words across the mental link.

“No idea? The locus? Point of convergence? It’s not my job to name it.” Pavlos shrugged, but turned his eyes towards the center of the building from where he could feel the height of its artifacts' power.

“But you’re going to take a picture of it.”

“’'course I wi-”

That was when they were cut off by having spears hurled their way.

Luxembourg was… fairly nice actually. The diminutive-but-wealthy enclave made for a sharp contrast compared to the wilderness of the Ardennes and the damp swamps of the Netherlands. In spite of everything that had swept the world, the little country had fared surprisingly well.

Granted, it bore similar damage to what you’d see anywhere else, as should be expected of places left abandoned for a prolonged period, but compared to other places, the industrial damage, the derelict structures, even the overgrowth was rather mild. Young trees could be seen growing near the edges of treelines and the grass poking through the snow in the wide meadows was definitely taller than normal… but the rest was almost unscathed.

And so the southern part of the Grand Duchy greeted them with its gently sloped meadows that only rarely showed harsh lines, revealing the iron-infused red soils that had given the area its name. Terres Rouges, the Red Lands, the springboard the country had used to launch its industries two centuries prior.

All for naught sadly. Before Aleksei’s eyes, the history lay bare and derelict: ancient castles, churches and fortifications dating back to the middle ages. The gargantuan silhouettes of old steelworks the little country had used to expand its riches thanks to the Red Lands. The expansive highways, rail yards and logistics support facilities that had followed to cement a place as a hub between France and Germany. Even the sparkling ultramodern skyscrapers and office buildings of companies drawn in by favorable tax conditions.

And empty streets and highways. Not a soul in sight, except for stray animals and cattle that scattered at their passage.

Sad though it may be, all were in a well-kept state, barring unavoidable signs of disuse like dirt, dust and broken windows.Probably thanks to locals having the money for it prior to the Event, constructions were made to last, and it showed. There wasn’t too much modern architecture around, but the locals seemed to have held a love for brightly colored roughcast, because nearly every house they had passed was covered in it, bearing colors that ranged from bright white to pink, yellow, purple...

Aleksei was damn sure Ornithians would love the place.

It was refreshing really. After the stuff they’d seen, passing through didn’t look as though a bomb had exploded there was a nice change of pace. Adding to that, the roads were nowhere near as bad as they were previously (for which Aleksei’s back was thankful), and morale among the trio had improved considerably after a good night’s rest.

“You know… it’s kinda funny when you think about it.” Sri quipped as they left the motel they had spent the night in behind, the diesel of the Defender releasing a large plume of smoke as it slowly warmed up in the wintry cold.

The hippogriff was wrapped up tightly in her winter clothes, wings kept furled up under a poncho she wore above her parka whilst she held a steaming thermos of coffee in her talons. Hippogriff feathers? Good in the rain and water, not so much in the cold.

“What is?” Aleksei’s right ear twitched, idly orienting itself towards her fellow hippogriff who had taken the backseat that day.

“Well… I know Amandine used to switch back and forth between the Maltese and Luxembourgish ship register, meaning technically we’ve sailed under Luxembourg’s flag for a good while, yet we’ve never even set foot there before the world ended.”

Not that it was particularly strange in the shipping industry. Wouldn’t be the first time sailors served on a ship from a place they’d never actually been to. Panama, Liberia, the Marshall Islands...

“Ah!” Bart laughed. “I have come here, a few times.” The unicorn said in his usual, heavily-accented voice. “Cheap fuel and cheap alcohol, it’s a good stop when you go on holiday.” He told them, nodding sagely.

True that. They did fill up on alcohol off the motel’s minibar. Fuel though… the filters for fuel recycler would have been too cumbersome on their journey.

Not that Aleksei was worried about running out. They had extra in the trailer’s tank, and she trusted her math on how much fuel was needed for the expedition.

“Holidays… Well I don’t know about you Bart, but these days my idea of well-spent time off is more about getting to lay back at home without having to worry about anything. Traveling is...” Aleksei trailed off.

“I noticed! Worst roads ever, full of potholes.” He joked back with a laugh.

“Insofar that the road is the pothole, then yes.” She cracked a smile with her beak. “No taxpayer money? The entire highway network melts away immediately. And they said the roads sucked in Belgium before. Try to get a tank through that now. Your move Rommel.”

The group burst into laughter.

“Ah, now you’re making me wonder what he’d turn into if he were alive now.” Bart wondered.

“Weeeell...” Sri decided to join in. “If I need to remind you two, Captain Lorelei is a unicorn, and she’s German, so...”

Aleksei went silent, her mind slowly drawing the picture of Nazi High Command as tiny pastel-colored fillies like the poor Captain.

She guffawed.

Lorelei frowned.

“Something wrong?” Dilip inquired.

“Nein, I just got the sudden urge to buck a fool for some reason.” The filly Captain replied.

"Nothing out of the ordinary then. Want some more darjeeling?"

Since Luxembourg was apparently in such a good shape, they decided a bit of afternoon salvaging would do them some good, if only because Sri felt it wise to stop in a garage for a moment to look the Land Rover over. The truck had after all been a bit… mistreated, to put it mildly. What with wading through the Dutch swamps and traversing the whole of the Ardennes off-road in one stretch.

For all their ruggedness, Land Rovers had a reputation of being rather capricious, so Aleksei didn’t raise an argument against that. The trio quickly found a garage that looked somewhat specialized in off-roaders and the Indonesian of the group went to work as soon as they jacked the door open and drove the truck over to the pit whilst Bart went around securing the building.

As for Aleksei, the cleric took to the skies with a flap of her wings, intent on getting a feel of the area from the air. Her robes billowed in the wind as she banked and flew lazy circles over the industrial zone where they’d found the garage. Though well-off, it wasn’t much to look at: warehouses and office buildings with large depots and parking lots around them, with the odd blotch of color where shops and fast-food joints had been developed.

Satisfied she had a good bearing of her surroundings, the hippogriff proceeded to perch on top of a McDonald's sign and slung her rifle off her back whilst she reached for her cigarettes with her other claw.

“Aleksei here… Take your time in the garage...” She reported over the radio. “No sign of monsters of looting in the area. Want me to go and grab some stuff at the gas station after I finish my smoke? Over.” She offered, eyeing a nearby Q8 through her rifle’s scope.

“Bart here, Sri says she wants a Sprite. I’ll have an Ice Tea if you find some, thanks for the offer. Out.” The radio crackled with the unicorn’s voice.

Aleksei nodded inwardly at the request before taking a long drag of her cigarette. She might grab a pack or two while she was in there.

Her ear twitched as the wind carried a faint sound in her direction. She twisted her head, wings unfolding reflexively, eyes scanning the landscape off in the distance.

Another noise, she caught a flicker of movement.

Then a flare raced up towards the sky, fired from the outer edge of the industrial zone roughly three kilometers away.

Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the shooter. It was an Ornithian, a bright white male parrot clad in a fluo parka, waving at her. He was with another male parrot – a green one- and a pair of deer.

It took her a few seconds before she raised a claw and waved back. The parrot in the parka jumped up at the sight, and the group started racing towards her position.

“Errr… team, Aleksei here. Be advised, we have company. No hostile contact. Meetup at the McDonald’s, hang back for now. Out.”

Tall pines and rolling hills as far as the eye could see, that was the sight the Black Forest presented to newcomers. Though it wasn’t as badly overgrown as most other magic forests of its type, the dark pines it owed its name to still cast their foreboding shadows over the bits of clear lands available in the narrow valleys between the hills, which wasn’t helped by the gray skies overhead as snow fell upon the area. The winter months had set in deep over there, and the snow cover was thick with a fine powder that would be kicked up by the wind at nearly every opportunity, creating strange semi-blizzards that could cover an area in minutes as they picked up on magic, before disappearing just as suddenly.

Magic-induced weather anomalies aside, winter had the benefit for the forest of enforcing some quiet on its inhabitants, as animals and monsters alike settled in their dens to endure the cold, creating a welcome reprieve for the few stubborn returnees that had made the region their home, their fortified homesteads and chalets snuggled tightly at the bottom of the safer valleys.

Although they did have to remain vigilant. Most of the returnees being unicorns and batponies in that area, they made for enticing snacks for the odd pack of predators that wanted to leave their den for some appetizers.

Speaking of which...

“RAAAOOWWRR!”

*thwack!*

“Bad dog!” Rodrigo chastised with a grin as he somersaulted above a pouncing Dire Wolf and smacked its snout with the flat of Durandal.

The lone canine whirled around and snapped its jaws at the knight unicorn, but Rodrigo had already nimbly sprung out of reach despite the weight of his armor. It then swiped a paw at him, only for its strike to be blocked by Durandal as Rodrigo manipulated the enchanted sword with his telekinesis.

Droplets of warm blood sprayed from the humongous wolf’s paw as it recoiled with a pained whine, staining the snow.

“Come on now!” Veillantif complained from where he was casually observing the fight on the edge of the clearing. “Why are you dragging the fight? I’ve seen you down a hydra in under a minute, why are you not finishing it now?”

“Training!” Rodrigo barked over his shoulder towards the other pony. “I can’t get better if I always end it too quic-” He paused, rolling away from another pounce as the wolf resumed its assault, its bulk slamming into the ground and kicking up powdery snow as it went on the offense. “Darn, feisty one ain’t ya? Your alpha must be a mean one if you’re the type it sends out there.” Rodrigo quipped at the monster.

The only reply he got was an ear-shattering roar that made his ears fold back against his head.

“Ew...” He wiped the spittle off his snout with a hoof. “Ya ever wash your mouth? Nasty.”

“Rodrigo!” Veillantif stomped with his hoof.

“On it, on it.” The knight backpedaled on his hind legs, quickly conjuring up a shield to deflect a bite that otherwise could have bisected him, armor or no armor.

With seemingly little effort on his part, the Spaniard went to work, almost dancing around his foe as he thrust and slashed with his sword, drawing lines of blood in the snow but not quite wounding it. It hurt it. It infuriated it to no end. But there was little the wolf could do against the diminutive pony as it danced around it.

Finally, with a slash of Durandal that shortened its ear tip by a third, the Dire Wolf decided to cut its losses and ran off the clearing with its tail between its legs.

Rodrigo gave a satisfied nod, pulling out a rag from a pouch on his armor he quickly used to wipe the blood off his prized sword.

“Great, now it ran off and we have to track it.” Veillantif came up to him, though for all his complaints Rodrigo could see the Earth Pony was relieved his companion was uninjured.

“That’s the point, yes.” Rodrigo nodded with a smile.

“… I think we’re not on the same page here. Didn’t the villagers want us to get rid of the wolves?”

“And where do you think that one ran off?”

“To its…”He paused.“Oh I get it now.” Veillantif finally understood.

“The den, yeah.” Rodrigo nodded as he sheathed Durandal. “Did you pay attention when we passed the last colony? They said a pack of Dire Wolves, not a loner. I’d rather not have to track down the whole pack across the forest, thank you very much. We’re hitting the problem at its source.”

“And so, you’re just going to run up to their front door, charge in like a maniac and take them all on at once?” The taller of the two ponies sighed resignedly. “Will you at least use the shotgun? I swear we picked up those slugs for nothing if you’re just going to stab every monster in sight until it stops moving.”

For a moment, Rodrigo didn’t give a reply, the unicorn simply going for the edge of the clearing where he picked up a smaller set of travel saddlebags than Veillantif’s (can’t be helped, strong as he was, he wasn’t an Earth Pony) before he went back to the trail of blood the fleeing wolf left behind and finally spoke up.

“Veill’… Why do you think we don’t use a truck? I’m not stupid. I could fix one up easily enough, even if the upkeep is a lot of work I’ll admit.”

“Because we have hooves and we enjoy the sights?” The other pony joined him as he bent over the blood.

The wolf was injured, but it should be shallow enough, he nodded to himself.

“True though it may be… It’s about training.” He turned his head towards Veillantif. “That’s why I use my spells whenever possible. That’s why we walk for days on end. That’s why I drag my fights and practice my moves as long as possible. Because she is after us, and if I’m honest with you, right now I’m not sure we’d be able to do much if she managed to catch up.”

“You’re still on to that...”

Rodrigo frowned.

“Think. Before she clouded herself and when Starswirl could still pinpoint her, her course started heading for Aachen when we went there. When we started heading south? She starts heading south. It’s not Starswirl she wants, it’s us.”Rodrigo said, the last word with just a tint of alarm to it.

“Or maybe Starswirl was right and she’s just dragging her draconeequs apprentice to places of power in Europe to train him? Hmmm, you thought about that?”Veillantif countered.

“No tiene sentido.” Rodrigo shook his head negatively. “Think, it’s Baba Yaga we’re talking about. She’d have easy access to all the places of power she wants east of Poland, but for some reason she’d prefer coming outside her territory, to western Europe?” He turned his eyes towards Veillantif that turned more sympathetic as he took note of the fear on his companion’s snout. “Look… I don’t know how she travels or how close to the myth she is, but by hoofing it cross-country like that we can’t be making it easy for her. So we’ll do the usual. Get across the Black Forest, fight off the monsters that are annoying the locals so we get some training in and they help us in return… then we stock up on gear and supplies and cut across the Alps to reach the Balkans. I’d like to see her try and follow us through that. No way the tunnels under the mountains are still okay.” He comforted him, patting a hoof on Veill’s shoulder.

The taller Earth Pony nodded.

“Good. Now that we’re on the same page… Let’s start tracking this thing. We’ll lose the trail if it gets too dark. And if we’re done early, maybe you’ll be able to have a chat with that batpony mare down in the valley? She looked like she had some room in her bed, eh?” Rodrigo joked as he started trotting along the blood trail.

That got Veillantif out of it, and the Earth Pony hurried to catch up as the two started bantering about what they’d do at the colony once they were done with their hunt.

Author's Note

Took me long enough to get that one out... Sad to say, I'm a long way from the time where I could reliably push out one chapter per week. Life be like that sometimes.

Story-wise... Return of the Knight-Errant duo as they monster-hunting takes them into the Black Forest, so now you're getting an idea of which groups will be at the turning point when this arc unfolds.

At the same time, I'm trying to add tidbits of worldbuilding and details as to how the factions are developping. The WSU has a lot of steps to go through before they reach peak efficiency with their supply chains. Needless to say, it will be slow-going for them.

Aside from that, hope you like the dragonrider duo.

Arc 1 - Doom and Gloom under Cursed Boughs - 4

The building must have been constructed some three hundred years prior, give or take. Not that Dilip cared overly much about it, but part of him could appreciate nice architecture when he saw it.

By which he was referring to what had become their clinic in Brielle, an old naval hospice for disabled sailors that had been built right in the middle of town, an L-shaped Neo-renaissance style construction that wrapped its bricks around a small snow-covered courtyard with a statue of a water nymph in its center, its tarnished brass head capped with a snowy white crown. Overall it was rather ornate, with the dark bricks of its walls decorated with bright white mouldings and ornaments. Though being intended for disabled sailors in a time where electricity wasn’t a thing meant it was built all on a single floor, a small clock tower still rose above it, the fresh coat of paint on it implying it had just been repaired.

Tightening the collar of his coat with his one paw, the Diamond-Dog momentarily stopped to look at the extent of the work they had done to the building from an outside view, his breath coming out in a fog from the wintry cold.

A tall antenna and a couple of satellite dishes sprouted from the roof, something they had added to ensure there would be a medical hotline of sorts to assist remote colonies in figuring out medical emergencies and keep enough bandwidth for video calls. Although most such calls usually went through WSU Radio before being dispatched there, given most folks, they didn’t keep much contact with each other, but usually kept in touch with the world thanks to Sandra.

Along with that, a trio of repurposed containers and a couple of greenhouses occupied the edges of the courtyard. The former held their most high-tech bits of lab equipment whilst the latter served as a steady supply of common herbs both magical and mundane.

Knowing how hard it was to source actual medicine, herbal cures and potions were both a necessary stopgap and a godsend.

A gust of wind blew through, and Dilip found himself biting back a very canine (and inappropriate) whine as his ears folded against his head from the biting cold. The pariah dog may have fur, but it wasn’t thick enough to offer much protection against the wet, cold chill of coastal winters. Deciding he’d rather be out of the cold, he made his way past the courtyard and towards the street-side of the building where a pair of reclaimed ambulances sat, the main entrance.

In there he was greeted by a fairly mundane – if a bit makeshift- waiting room with a row of chairs occupying one side of the room, and a desk on the other in front of several doors leading towards various parts of the clinic. On the walls, a few dozen pictograms had been hung with various tidbits of health-related information for the three-dozen or so species folks commonly returned as. Next to the desk, a short quadruped-height table was filled to the brim with leaflets addressing topics going from fur-care to sex-ed.

It also smelled strongly of chemicals and disinfectant, something Dilip’s canine nose was quick to remind him of with displeasure.

He paid it no mind, he’d had enough months as a D-Dog to dull strong reactions to sharp scents.

The room was empty, save for the goshawk griffon behind the desk who immediately stood up upon noticing the Captain enter the building. His Captain.

“Cap’n!” The griffon greeted sharply in a Russian accent.

“Good morning Boris.” Dilip nodded in greeting, deciding to go for familiarity as he shrugged off his coat and went to hang it on a peg near the entrance. “Fine day isn’t it?”

“Yessir. Clear skies and little wind, anyone with wings could tell you that. I’m sorry sir, we weren’t expecting you for another hour or so, I’m afraid Doctor Delacroix is still on Rhine Forest preparing for their next voyage.” the griffon apologized.

Dilip’s stump twinged at the thought. The constant supply of healing potion meant his arm was slowly regrowing… but the process was dreadfully slow.

“I’m aware.” Dilip nodded, idly tilting his head to the side ever so slightly to peer at Boris’ paperwork. “But since I’ve been going around the colony checking up on everything we’re doing, I felt dropping by a bit earlier might help. Is Vadim here?”

“In his office going over his err… research projects? I think?” Boris hesitated. “I’m just here sorting patient files and studying.”

Dilip looked at the griffon with more interest. “Studying?”

“Yes sir. We don’t get many patients around except for some medical advice and the odd injury, which are a quick fix with potions. So since medical is our place of duty when ashore, well...” He shrugged with his wings. “Makes sense to try to get better. We have a lot of species around the colony, and you treat them all the same way. Griffons for instance. Two hearts, one for flying. Makes it a puzzle to figure out blood pressure. And don’t get me started on dragons. I have it easy really, I’m just the assistant, so I just memorize what Vadim, Lilian and Camille figure out.”

“Lilian and Camille?”

“Sorry sir, I meant Dr. Shepperd and Dr. Delacroix.” Boris clarified.

Dilip nodded silently. “Good on you for improving at your job. I can certainly appreciate people finding themselves shoreside jobs for when we’re in port. We need it. That aside, before I go and pester Vadim… How is Tanya? I presume she’s with your eggs?” The Indian politely asked as he moved towards the hallway he knew led to Vadim’s office.

“She’s… sorting paperwork. We do our best to always have one of us keeping an eye on them.”

“Aren’t they safe enough while in Brielle though?”

“Instincts sir.” The griffon shifted. “Doesn’t sit well with either of us leaving the… err... nest unattended.” The Russian finished, seemingly struggling to find the right word towards the end. Dilip couldn’t help with the frown that appeared on his muzzle.

“Sir I-,” but Dilip cut him off before he could start by raising a paw.

“It’s okay Boris. We’ve known the issue would spring up eventually, and it’s a hurdle we’ll have to get past, somehow. I know I’m all business sometimes, but common sense can’t really have me force new parents to leave their...” He trailed off. Was it chicks or cubs with griffons again? “… hatchlings unattended. When are they due to hatch?”

“Around Mid March if we’re correct.” And they weren’t due for an expedition before June… but the hatchlings would still only be months old by then.

“I… am still looking for a solution I’m afraid, Boris.” Dilip admitted. “Were you any other species I’d say it’s a pity but one would have to stay here in Brielle while the other goes, but you griffons work differently, right? Can’t have you bring the hatchlings along either… No time for them on a ship.”

Really, Andy had been a special case because Vadim and Micha’s adoptive child, though young, was old enough to be somewhat self-sufficient, and even then she always had one of the crew keeping an eye on her. And that was one young griffon to take care of that had proved tiring to raise for both his Second and Third Officers.

He paused his train of thought when he saw Boris straighten himself up as if he was steeling himself for something difficult, muttering a few words in Russian before he addressed his Captain.

“Captain… it’s hard for me to say but… maybe mated griffons can be split up.” Boris said with a wince as if the words physically hurt him. “I know it won’t be easy, but we’re not really paying for the satellite bandwidth we use, right? So if I could keep in touch regularly, then maybe?”

Dilip smiled lightly. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer. I’ll see what I can so it doesn’t come to that, maybe get some transfers from another ship, but we’re so hard pressed on personnel it might not be possible. Or it will be. Things can change fast, but I’ll do what I can not to put you in that position. Thank you for your time, now...” He turned back towards the hallway. “Vadim.”

And on that word he walked off into the hallway and disappeared behind a corner, leaving Boris alone with his thoughts in the lobby.

Which was about the time Boris noted his superior had actually called him by his first name.

Now that was new.

Were it not for Mikhail’s quick reflexes, Pavlos’ life might have come to an abrupt stop that day. The feral dragon reacted near instantly the moment the thrown spears entered his vision, moving his body with shocking speed to form a wall of muscle and scales between the more vulnerable gargoyle and their attackers.

The stone spears shattered on impact with his sides, barely leaving a scratch on his scales as he let out a thundering roar in the general direction the spears had come from. Their foes were statues, not in that they froze up at the roar, but actual animated statues of African warriors risen to life much like the stone elephant outside the museum.

They barely reacted at the roar, facial features remaining motionless as the hunting party of five advanced in a semicircle towards Mikhail and Pavlos. As one, they put a hand forward and the pile of dust and shattered stone that had formed from the spears reshaped into weapons and flew back into their open palms.

At about the same time, Pavlos finished dispelling the mage sight spell on his goggles and brought his machine gun to bear.

Mikhail felt the cold trickle of a noise canceling spell wash over him a fraction of a second before the muzzle flash of the gun lit up the hallway and battered the stone constructs with a hail of 7.62.

It was… less effective than either of them would have expected. Sure, the bullets didn’t bounce off and even those that ricocheted still chipped stone on impact… but statues don’t have innards or muscles to cripple, so beyond a few dozen holes in their chests their attackers were unconcerned by the attack.

Which left them free to respond in kind by throwing their spears again, forcing Pavlos to duck back behind Mikhail’s bulk for cover, the dragon having as little concerns about the projectiles as the statues did about Pavlos’ bullets.

“Alright, this is silly...” Another spear impacted his neck harmlessly before the dragon released another roar. “Screw collateral damage!”

And with that mental declaration, he leaped at the statues, claws out, tail lashing.

The tribal statues jumped aside to dodge. Three of them did. The other two… one caught a swing of Mikhail’s claw and went flying into a display case, shattering wood, glass and artefacts, while the other found itself skewered on the tip of the dragon’s tail before a flick sent it joining its brethren.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of leathery wings as his gargoyle friend made space and got behind cover, but he didn’t pay him much attention, feeling a red haze of draconic fury flare up in his mind.

He didn’t fight it.

The statues he had thrown rose up, their stony surface chipped from the force of the impact. They joined up with their brethren.

An electric-like arc of wild magic formed up between them. Some artifacts had been damaged already.

It didn’t look like they were going to give up.

Good.

Mikhail snapped his jaws in anticipation.

The spears went flying again.

He merely made sure they didn’t strike his weaker wing membranes or eyes before lashing out as well, jumping in the middle of the fray to crush a statue beneath his bulk before catching another in his jaws and sending it through a window with a roar.

One tried to jump on his back, grabbing at his saddle and back spines for purchase.

He just rolled over once before an open swipe of his claw bisected it. The remains were then thrown at the remaining two statues. He coiled his neck back before roaring again at the remaining two.

They didn’t throw their spears this time at least, deciding to split up instead to try and attack from the sides and maybe draw blood from his wings.

It didn’t work. Mikhail simply opened the appendages halfway and beat them down with such force he rose up to the ceiling, crushing some ceiling lights against his back and showering the museum’s displays with glass before he pushed against the ceiling with his hind legs and dove down on one of the statues with the strength of a freight train, crushing it under one claw so hard the floor tiles cracked and two nearby display cases fell over and spilled their contents.

The statue, in turn, turned into rubble.

Keeping his momentum, Mikhail rushed forward at the other one and crushed it with a snap of his jaws.

It was over in all of thirty seconds.

“There!” He called over his mental link. “Seems to be all of th-”

His train of thoughts was interrupted by a spear pinging off his snout.

“Missed one?” Pavlos asked with a wave of inquiry. The gargoyle was still behind cover.

Mikhail scowled, squinting at the lone statue standing next to a broken display case, this one harboring battle damage and missing an arm.

“Probabl-”

Its other arm extracted itself from the display case and levitated back to its owner, reattaching itself.

“Oh come on...” Mikhail rolled his eyes in annoyance. “They’re like Timber Wolves! They just get back together when you break them.” He told Pavlos.

“Ah...” The gargoyle peeked out from his piece of cover. “That’s… not very convenient.”

“You don’t say.”

The statue threw itself at him. One second it was charging in one direction. The other, it was sent flying the opposite direction with a dull ‘thwack!’.

“Mikhail?”

“Yeah, you got a plan?”

“If it counts as one.” The reply came with the mental equivalent of a shrug. “Seems like it’s only five of them, you think you can keep them here?”

Mikhail huffed.

“’course I can.”

“Good. Errr… go ahead and vent on them then. I’ll be finishing my scans of the area while you’re at it.” Pavlos said, the gargoyle cautiously leaving his piece of cover before he headed off down a hallway.

“I guess that’s what we’re here for, yeah.” Mikhail acknowledged.

Another statue climbed back from the window Mikhail had thrown it through.

The dragon felt almost guilty when he threw it back out through another unbroken window.

Pity the sound of breaking glass was so satisfying then.

“Good. I’ll be over yonder photographing the nexus. Meet you outside by the flying urinal when I’m done. By the way… I wouldn’t touch any artifact. Could be dangerous.” Pavlos advised before his side of the mental link went dull.

Mikhail glanced down at a chipped tribal mask that was leaking blue smoke from its eye holes.

No shit.

Even though Aleksei hopped off the McDonald's sign as soon as she saw the group of returnees start running towards her, there was still some time before they got there. With a flap of her wings, the hippogriff alighted on top of an abandoned car and quickly ran her talons over her clothes in an attempt to smooth them down.

Key word being attempt. No matter how hard she tried, a choice of attire consisting of cleric robes and a military chest rig would always raise eyebrows no matter the crowd. She did however make sure her rifle was well and snug in its sling across her back.

No need to raise an alarm by ostentatiously flashing a gun.

Sri and Bart were quick to join her a minute later, although given the looks of the former and how she was trying to rearrange her clothes, the couple probably had been doing more than car repairs in there.

Hey, at least that meant her fellow hippogriff had a healthy relationship. As a fertility cleric, that ought to mean she was doing a decent job, right?

“Four returnees. Two Ornithians. Two deer.” Aleksei filled them in. “Non hostile, unharmed, tried to get my attention with a flare. Judging by the area, recent returnees.”

“Could be travelers?” Bart countered, one of the unicorn’s ears swiveling as it caught a few words carried by the wind up ahead of them.

Not a language he recognized.

“Unlikely. Not geared enough. Barely equipped even.” Aleksei replied. “As in, clothed at least, but not much more.”

“In that weather, good for them.” Sri shuddered, holding her wings closer to her frame as a gust of wind swept through the parking lot.

There was a brief pause, then the quartet of returnees rounded the corner. There was the male Ornithian with the flare gun Aleksei recognized, one with a tall crest of dirty yellow feathers, a broad black beak and a bright pink parka. Then behind him came the second Ornithian, a green male with somewhat more muted colors and a thick felt coat. Though they were thickly clothed, they didn’t seem too warm, the cold didn’t really suit creatures intended for warmer climates like Ornithians. Parrots and macaws never were meant for snow.

The other two of their group wore notably less clothing. Contrarily to their companions, deer were far better equipped to fend off the winter, and it showed in that they seemed far less affected than their parrot friends.

Aleksei would readily admit she wasn’t as familiar with Everfree Deer as she should though. The last one she’d seen dated way back to when they had sailed to Savannah in the US, and although reports said they were common enough here in Europe, those two were the first she was seeing with her own eyes in a while. They were roughly in the same size range as ponies, if a bit taller (antlers not included) and with a lither build than their equine counterparts. At a glance, they ought to come up Aleksei’s neck, and she knew she was both tall for a quadruped as a hippogriff, and because Epona had made her taller when she became a cleric.

Makes sense. She thought. Better suited for traversing forestry. What magic did deer have again? She frowned lightly in thought. Ah right. Attuned to nature, and an innate talent for alchemy. A bit like Zebricans in a way.

And of course, contrary to ponies and so many other species, their color palette was more browns and greys than other species. One of the two was a doe with specks of white on her auburn fur wearing a woolen cap and a woolen coat adapted to her form, and the other one was a young dark brown stag with sharp orange eyes, clad in a simple denim jacket. Evidently, he didn’t mind the cold.

Their group stopped a short ways in front of the WSU trio.

“Moien!” The stag greeted, receiving looks from the parrots accompanying him.

There was a pause. Sri and Bart looked towards Aleksei expectantly.

Right. She stood up on top of the abandoned car.

“Hello! I’m sorry, does any of you speak English?” She greeted back, mindful to enunciate clearly.

Not that she couldn’t put up a translation ward, but she’d rather save herself the time and components.

She wouldn’t need to. The group in front of her clearly understood her, and one of the parrots – the green one- flashed the stag a winning grin, to which he responded with a mildly irritated glare.

“Yes we speak English.” Said parrot spoke up with a distinct portuguese accent. “It’s great to finally meet someone. We thought we were all alone here.”

“That’s usually what people think when they Return, yes.” Aleksei nodded. “How long have you been here for? I assume you were together when it happened?”

“Three weeks… we think.” The parrot hesitated slightly. “Sorry, it’s a bit hard to keep track of things. Did we travel through time?”

“About eight months. Today’s the 24th, January 2016.” Bart spoke up to clarify. “But I don’t think we’ve introduced each other. I’m First-Chief Corporal De Mesmaeker.” He said, taking a step forward.

Aleksei threw him an inquisitive look, to which the unicorn replied with a small smile. ‘Full title’ He mouthed.

“Oh so you’re from the military?!” The doe exclaimed before shrinking back, abashed at her outburst. “Sorry, I’m Gabriel. And my name… yes I was. Male.” She said the last word in a whisper.

That earned her looks of sympathy from Sri and Aleksei. Sure, they had gotten used to the change, but it had taken them a while to get over it and keep things rolling.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Aleksei comforted. “Sri and I were in the same spot as you. I can’t say it’s easy, but you get used to it.”

Sri coughed into her talons, choking back a laugh at that. As if the reason they were this far from Rotterdam wasn’t because she had a quest to get back her manhood. The cleric just threw her a mildly annoyed glance. ‘Don’t start’.

“And for the record...” Aleksei continued. “… Bart here is the only one from the military, not that there is one left. We’re from the Merchant Navy… or the World Seafarer Union would be more correct these days. We’re a fleet operating from the port of Rotterdam to help set up colonies and keep the world going.”

“Why the guns then? And I’m Andre by the way. Construction worker.” The green parrot squawked, proudly jabbing a thumb-talon against his broad chest.

“We were all working construction.” Gabriel pointed out. “Same company, just… coming back to the offices after work when it happened.”

“I wasn’t!” The white parrot in the pink parka protested. “I was in HR! If I hadn’t needed to get the papers from your site I wouldn’t be here!” He squawked at his companions, feather crest flaring before his features shifted abruptly into a polite smile addressed to the WSU sailors. “Francesca Silva by the way.”

“Oh?” Gabriel tilted her head and trotted over to the parrot, annoyance in her tone. “And where would you be then?”

“Well maybe I’d have been with someone useful.”Francesca haughtily tilted his beak up.

Then the two launched into a verbal fight of who could sling the most insults at the other in Portuguese or Luxembourgish.

That had Aleksei’s feathery brows raised, and judging from the aggravated looks of the two others, it wasn’t the first time this happened. She turned her head towards Andre, the duller-colored of the two parrots pinching the bridge of his beak at the display.

“That happen often?”

“Unfortunately. Hard to tune them out too. Bloody loud.” He shook his head before walking a few steps away from the noise of the arguing pair. Aleksei followed, hopping off her abandoned car. “Sorry about them, it's really great we're finally meeting new people.”

“Likewise. If you want the hard figures, the population left on the planet at the moment is only about... one in ten thousand.” Aleksei told him, spotting the stag of the group moving to join them.

“So few?”

“It's... complicated to tell what happened. We're well-informed on this, but usually when we meet new groups, it's a couple hours to tell them in detail. And that's with slideshows and computers helping.” Aleksei continued. “To keep it simple... Everybody disappears one day because magic reappeared, then we all pop back gradually as time passes. Estimates say it will take 10,000 years for everybody to come back, and because the world has changed, we can't come back as humans, since they die when exposed to magic.”

“What?! Ten thousand years?!” The stag exclaimed.

“Unfortunately. You could wait for family and friends to reappear where you knew they were, but you could spend your entire life there without them showing up.” Aleksei shook her head. “We reappeared on the first day with our ship, and we've traveled a lot before we settled a base in Rotterdam. The world is dangerous these days. There are bandits profiting off isolated people to serve them. Monsters. Cultists. I mean... Look at me.” She waved her talons. “The Gods of Old are back, and I pledged fealty to Epona, a Celtic goddess of fertility.”

“Is that why you're bigger than the other hippogriff?” Andre pointed a digit towards Sri who was seemingly trying – and failing- to break up the argument between Francesca and Gabriel.

“Yes. Pledging yourself to a divinity usually comes with some transformations... although I think in my case it's more extreme than others. Comes with magic too.”

“Alright... I get that. No, I don't. But I will.” Andre crossed his arms with a frown. “But what are you guys doing here then? If you have a base, why come to Luxembourg?”

“Pass through Luxembourg is more like it.” She corrected him. “We're headed for the Black Forest.”

“The Black Forest? I'm sorry if I sound daft – I'm a bit behind in terms of information- but you just said there are monsters and Gods. Isn't the Black Forest the exact kind of place you'd want to avoid?”

“Yes, unless you have a specific reason to get in there.” Aleksei conceded. “In our case, our ship isn't due to leave for a couple months, and my goddess gave me a quest to locate a wizard that's supposedly hiding in there. And it is dangerous. I've been there once already, and the wolves were the size of a car.”

Somehow, despite the green feathers, Andre managed to pale.

“I guess that does explain the guns.”

“Sorry if you hold beliefs against violence, but I think these days the difference between armed and unarmed is the same as alive and dead. You definitely should get some, though in the heart of the EU, good luck with that.”

“I figure the Grand-Ducal palace at the Capital should have the guards' armory. If we can crack it.”

“I wish you the best with that. We came in to the country from Belgium and... to be fair with you, your country is stuck between several huge enchanted forests. You will need to defend yourselves.”

“Not – my – country.” Andre gave her a hard look. “I'm Portuguese, not Luxembourgish.”

“Well... if that's a comfort to you, we have a solid dozen Portuguese folks in Rotterdam.” Aleksei offered. “I can't say we ever got words of colonies in Portugal though. They're all sailors that reappeared on ships, so if you need kinship, the Netherlands is a good place.”

“I'll... keep that in mind.” Andre said noncommittally after sharing a glance with his stag companion. “You did say we're stuck between enchanted forests, and unlike you, our van is...”

“You crashed it when you reappeared didn't you.” Aleksei guessed.

“Gabriel was behind the wheel. Hooves you know.” Andre shrugged.

“Happens to most vehicular reappearances anyway. Aircraft are the worst off in that case. Say, we stopped with our Land Rover in the shop to give it a once over. Would you mind if we moved on inside? I can't say hippogriff feathers are much good against the cold, and it's also better if I have a computer along to bring you guys up to snuff.”

The two paused, glancing over to the rest of their companions, seeing Francesca and Gabriel still trading insults while the rest either made sure they kept apart, or shook their heads in dismay.

“Though to be fair, the Netherlands would be an improvement after these two.”

“Sure is a runner isn't he?” Rodrigo grunted as he pulled himself over a fallen tree trunk covered in snow, kicking up a small white cloud as he jumped off on the other side.

“No kidding.” Veillantif replied.

Though the Earth Pony of the knightly duo had less difficulty traversing the terrain – plodding through the snow seemingly effortlessly- he was no less slowed by the bulk of gear and armor than his unicorn companion.

It was... mildly aggravating at least. The trail of blood left behind by the injured dire wolf didn't abate and was fairly easy to keep an eye on, but the huge canine was either moved by sheer adrenaline, or simply less impeded by its wounds than Rodrigo had first assumed when it ran off.

It had been over three hours now since the 'duel' in the clearing (if that could even be called such), and the two ponies were still hot on the trail hoping their quarry would lead them to its den.

Needless to say, even Rodrigo was now losing faith in his initial plan. The Black Forest, treacherous as ever, was running them ragged as they plowed through snow, trees and various obstacles with little sign that the trail was slowing down.

“You know...” Veillantif commented while glancing down at a trekking GPS they used not to get lost. “... at this point I'm not sure the wolf's even headed back to the den.”

“Neither am I. But it's not like we can just let it get away either way. We're supposed to get rid of the pack so the farmstead down in the valley is safe.”

Veillantif halted, looking backwards.

Needless to say, the valley in question was far behind them now, its only indicator being the thin plume of smoke rising up above the treetops to the north.

“Fair enough. No strays left behind. We're eight kilometers away for your information.” Veillantif noted, pocketing the GPS before catching up with Rodrigo at a brisk trot.

“Noted. Warn me if it's more than twelve. I want to get back before nightfall, even if it's empty-hand- err, hoofed I mean.” Rodrigo told, not tearing his eyes away from the trail.

And on they went. Tailing the wounded wolf as it got increasingly further from the clearing they'd fought it in, past a small frozen brook and a narrow valley, and a bit of heathland.

Then, just as they were trudging through a particularly thick bit of snow, they heard howling, only a few hundred meters ahead of them. The two ponies paused, then they heard the commotion. The woods flashed with a sickly green glow – magic- and they heard a few blasts before the howling died down in a pained whimper.

Then came a long, drawn-out cracking as a pair of trees collapsed, the smell of ozone and charcoal carried towards the duo by the wind.

The forest was quiet again.

Rodrigo and Veillantif looked at each other in surprise before they raced forward. Unfortunately, by the time they actually barged into a clearing that might have been a crossroads at some point, the action was long over. Here and there, churned dirt and melted snow broke up the snow with a dirty brown hue, the magic impacts reeking of ozone.

And on the opposite end of the clearing lay their quarry, buried beneath a pair of fallen trees. The dire wolf was definitely dead, a bowling-ball-sized hole seared into its chest, adding charred flesh to the smell of ozone which made both equines fold their ears in distaste.

But no sign of who or what hunted their prey.

“Well... what now?” Rodrigo worked his jaw, a scowl on his muzzle. He scoured the clearing with his gaze, finding no sign as to who had done that.

“Guess it's back to the farmstead for now, right?” Veillantif joined him in front of the dead dire wolf. “Seems like who did that wasn't in a hurry to meet us. Strange though...”

“That they'd take off like that? Yes.” Rodrigo sighed, before then deciding to go and cut the wolf's tail.

He wouldn't claim a bounty on it at the farmstead, but at least that was one less to deal with. They still had an extra day to deal with the pack before their estimations said they really needed to get a move on unless they wanted Baba Yaga to catch up with them. Already, snow was starting to fall, beginning the process of erasing traces of the fight in the clearing, covering the carcass.

Then Veillantif called him over as he was shoving the wolf's tail in one of his pouches, pointing a hoof at...

A set of footprints.

Foot-prints.

Author's Note

And... there.

Took me long enough didn't it? Sad to say, I don't have a quarter of the free time I used to have when writing tome 1, so it's a lot slower to put out chapters.

But it gets there eventually, so it's better than having an abandoned fic I guess. I've always hated those when on the reader side of thing, I can at least *try* not to wind up on that side of the amateur writing sphere.

Plot-wise... things are getting murkier in the Dark Forest, and poor ol' Rodrigo will have to balance mysteries being unveiling in front of him, and Baba Yaga hot on his tail. And Aleksei's soon to reach the forest too.