Chapter 7: Patriarch

I was going to be a father.

It had taken me a week to find out. After committing to my order, Hoofstrong had locked herself away in the smithy for several days with only the muffled ‘ping’ of rhythmic hammer strikes letting the world know she was okay. When she had sent for me on the seventh day, I had opened the smithy door, only to be pulled into a deep kiss by a waiting minotauress.

Minotaur pregnancies, it turned out, progressed unnaturally quickly. Over the course of just a few days, Hoofstrong’s belly had swollen up like a human woman’s would at several months of pregnancy. I wasn’t sure how to describe the chocolate minotaur’s journey to motherhood, since trimesters most certainly didn’t apply here. The way things were going, it seemed unlikely that even half a trimester would elapse before the birth. And she wasn’t the only one. The rusty minotauress, Angy, was also nursing a rounded belly. Multiple women were pregnant and I was the father.

I was having some difficulty processing it all. Over the span of a few days, I had gone from a bachelor who’d never imagined he’d be able to afford a kid in this economy, to an expectant father to two pregnant minotauresses. There wasn’t really anything that prepared you for that kind of thing.

Hoofstrong, in a hastily resized flowing blue dress, was laid on her side in her room in the smithy. A calloused hand rubbed with uncharacteristic tenderness over the bulge in her stomach. She looked calmer now, more relaxed than I had come to associate with the powerful smith.

Credit: Whiterabbit95

“Some more alfalfa? A cup of water?” I prodded the chocolate minotauress while leaning over her mattress. It was not the first time that day I’d asked the question.

“Enough!” Hoofstrong barked, shooing me away with a hand but making no movement to pull away from the stack of pillows I’d brought to her bedside. “I am pregnant, not infirm. I managed to finish your damned armour, I am still perfectly capable of doing things for myself.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” I apologised, again, not for the first time that day. Ever since I had discovered the pregnant Hoofstrong, my protective instincts had kicked into overdrive. I was channelling them in a slightly more productive channel than smashing potential threats to the smith, though I was internally cognizant that it was a bit excessive. Pulling back, I stared at the smith for a moment, emotions swelling in me. Darting back to her, I gave the red-faced minotauress a peck on the cheek.

She didn’t swat me away.

To my surprise, the minotaurs had decided to throw a party at the news of the girl’s pregnancies. Somewhat darkly, it seemed that new life being brought to the plains was much rarer than an attack of Diamond Dogs being fended off, and so there was more cause to celebrate. The whole thing was a very impromptu affair, but it wasn’t like the townsfolk had rows of streamers and balloons to break out for the occasion. No, the party light was the red glow over the dimming horizon and the only present was the attendance of near-every minotaur in the village, young and old. And, really, that was all I could ever ask for.

Around a large table, handmade ceramic cups were being passed around. Inside, a golden-brown liquid sloshed around, smelling strongly of fermentation. A handful of watchful, matronly minotaurs hung around the table, making sure that curious children didn’t make their way to what the adults were drinking. Being the furred black goliath I was, it didn’t take long for me to get recognized. The man of the hour, I was welcomed in with a subdued cheer and smiles all around. A slight chill blew on the winds over the plains, but I could only describe the environment as warm.

As soon as I’d arrived, a cheery minotauress passed me a mug. To be honest, I was a little cautious. The liquid in my cup was definitely crude. Husks of fibrous stalks from the brewing still floated in the mixture. Albeit, that they had managed to filter or brew a drink at all with what I had seen in this village was fairly impressive.

Well, man of the hour and all. It would be rude to turn it down. Deeper in the crowd, I could see the round-bellied Red with a waterskin in hand, instead of a mug. She, at least, got a pass. God, she was such a good mother. Blinking away the rush of protective thoughts, I returned to the mug at hand. Raising it up to my lips, I let a sip of the golden mix flow into my mouth.

It was delicious. The brew was like the best part of eating alfalfa, but in liquid form. Was this why cows liked eating fermented hay so much, it tasted something like this to them? A wave of cheers passed around the party as I drank. Some minotaurs clinked their mugs together, others rose them in toast, all drank.

I had barely gotten my first sip in before a pint-sized, pink-haired fuzzball careened into my waist with a tackle that would have made rugby players tear up with pride.

“Partin’,”–a familiar voice by my hip called out–“yer here!”

My eyes lit up, seeing the little minotauress clinging onto me.

“Lulu!” I beamed, picking the minotauress up in my arms and pulling her into a hug against my chest.

“‘Ey, ‘ey! Too high!” she protested, waving her hands and grabbing at my fur for stability while keeping an eye on the metre drop to the floor below.

“Alright, fine,” I chuckled, leaning down and bringing the thrashing minotauress to the ground as she struck against my arms with surprising force. Must have been all that carrying-giant-bags energy.

Our heads coming close together, I could smell that familiar alcoholic fermentation coming from Lulu’s breath. Had she already started drinking?

“You and Hoofstrong, huh? Big strong ‘uns, I guess. I’m happy fer yah.” Straining to reach up to the drinks table, Lulu stood on her tip-hooves and stretched, grabbing herself a mug.

“Thanks, Lulu. That means a lot coming from you.” I said, beaming at the minotauress. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t lead me out of that old maze.” She didn’t seem to react to my words, instead kind of staring off through the party.

“Yeah, you really got yerself situated. Started movin’ fast, huh?” Taking a deep breath, Lulu brought her mug up to her lips and took a huge swig, proportional to her body-size. Honestly, seeing Lulu drink at all was a little odd to look at, though internally I knew she was in her twenties. Holding the mug up to her lips for a moment longer, Lulu finally lowered it and snorted a little puff from her nostrils. Taking a deep breath, her face turned serious and she looked me in the eyes.

“We need tah talk, big guy,” Lulu stressed, her lips pursed. “Not now, or ev’n today. But it would mean a lot tah me if we could sit down an’ talk some things over.”

Yeah, that sounded nice. I was kind of missing the time I hadn’t been spending with Lulu these last few days, though we still saw each other about.

“Yeah, of course, Lulu. But what do-” I’d started, before being cut off by the little minotauress at my waist throwing a friendly slug at my knee.

“Not now, big guy. The night’s yours!” Bouncing on her feet, Dwarf Lulu gave a fist pump before turning off and darting away from me. Under her breath, I could hear a muffled, “Yeah!” as her tip-tapping hooves carried her away.

Perplexed, I took a sip of my drink, watching the small minotaur skip away and disappear behind the legs of the many celebrating minotaurs, I suddenly felt a pair of thin, silky arms slipping around my left bicep. Turning my head in surprise, I found the pink-white minotauress Charolais hanging languidly from my arm, an assured smile on her face. In one of her hands, a half emptied mug of the night’s spirits swirled about, a mere afterthought to the drink’s owner.

“So, you got Hoofstrong and Red pregnant,” Charolais trilled, leaning back and sipping at her mug daintily. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”

I coughed hard, the sip I’d taken being sent down the wrong pipe. Wide eyed, I beat a fist against my chest, wholly caught off guard by the sudden conversation topic. Turning fully to face the light pink minotaur, my mouth hung agape as I scoured my seemingly shut-down mind for an acceptable response. Not waiting around for me to talk, she traced a lone index finger up to the upper half of my agape jaw and gave me a little boop on my nose.

“Just a little tidbit about myself, dear,” Charolais tittered to herself, seemingly amused by how flustered I’d become. Steadying herself, the pink furred woman released my left arm from her grip and gave me a kiss on the side of my neck. Turning away without a care in the world, the minotauress strutted away into the packed party, her sleek tail fluttering from side to side with each step.

Fuck.

The evening progressed like that for a while, often to an uncomfortable degree. Eventually, I managed to slip away from the droves of well-wishers and girls who sounded suspiciously like they were irked to not be part of the evening’s main attraction. Catching my breath, I’d wrapped around the back of one of the village’s round buildings. It was central enough to the celebration’s core that I wasn’t leaving the party, but secluded enough that I could collect myself for a few minutes.

Brushing a hand through the thick hair at the top of my head, I had managed to bring my breathing to a crawl before even noticing that I was not alone around the back of this home. Cane in hand, the hunched Malvi Elderhoof was stood not a metre from me. The dark browns and blacks of his coat helped him blend into the darkened wall, as the sun began its parting journey from the sky. And the elder, heedless of the celebrations around us was just still, staring at the fading sun.

Seemingly waiting, unconcerned if I had noticed him, Elderhoof acknowledged me with a small nod.

“Let me offer you my congratulations, young man,” the elderly minotaur praised with a smile. Stepping awkwardly over to me while leaning on his cane, he placed a frail arm around my back, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “This is the happiest I have seen Hoofstrong in years. It eases an old man’s heart, to see his little girl focused on something other than broken blades and burnt lands.”

Nodding dumbly along with the elder, it took a moment for the rugged minotaur’s words to process in my mind. The pieces clicking, I nearly spat out my drink.

“Her fa- Hoofstrong is your daughter?” I spluttered with wide eyes. My posture straightened through some instinct inherent to men everywhere, which seemed to transcend both minotaur and man.

“Easy there, boy,” Malvi chided amicably. The inkling of a smile cracked across his face. “The times of butting horns to posture and dowries on marriage are long past us. That my little Blue is happy is more than I could ask for.”

“I spoke with the young Lulu earlier,” Elderhoof hummed, looking back to the party’s heart. “She mentioned that you were new to these parts. And that you had had some difficulty with getting lost in the Maze of Kings?”

My smile was a little strained with the elder. I didn’t exactly want to have to explain to others why I had been stranded underground in ancient burial grounds. On the other hand, I couldn’t exactly coach Lulu into providing a more reasonable backstory for me. If for no other reason that I had no frame of reference for what normalcy looked like out here.

“That’s right,” I answered after a moment. “This is all a bit of a change of pace for me.” I dipped my head, taking a sip of the golden elixir in my hands. “I’m still getting my bearings out here.”

Malvi looked at me curiously for a moment, the elder’s brow furrowing as he leaned on his cane.

“I see.” There was a few seconds of silence between us as the background noise of jubilant minotaurs laughing and drinking filled the void. Then Malvi’s back un-arched itself by a few degrees as the elder looked me in my eyes. Softly but very pointedly, he asked, “tell me young man, do you know how the old kingdom collapsed?”

I was caught off guard by the sudden line of questioning. For as much as I didn’t want to seem out of place, lying when the elder could pose follow up questions seemed like a terrible idea.

“No, could you tell me more about it?” I probed, trying to frame it as an opportunity for the elder to speak, rather than me not knowing minotaur history. Eerily, the elder’s stare continued.

“I thought not,” he hummed to himself while shifting his weight around on his cane. “And you have said that you wish to protect the plains, yes?” The elder took another glance at my eyes. Not waiting for a response, the hunched minotaur looked away and continued talking. “Then you should know about the threats that plague our plains.”

“Many years ago, back in the days of plenty, our lands were assaulted by the ponyfolk. Back then, they were a very different peoples”–the elder clarified helpfully, rolling a hand in gesticulation–“with whom we had enjoyed many centuries of peace and trade. So you understand it was surprising to us. But we were strong. Our culture of militarism ran deep and our walls soared high. No mutts could have even touched us then,” Malvi sighed wistfully.

“It was not the first time we had been challenged over our lands, nor was it the first time invaders were pushed back. When the grand army of the tribes coalesced around King Ironheart, the ponies found no easy foe in him. The battles were slogs, but the plains were ours.” There was a pause. “I was just a dumb steer back then. Not too different to you, perhaps,” Malvi chuckled, his eyes distant. “Too inexperienced to join our forces. I was just a watchman over the walls of Hooves’ Rest. By the winds, my horns were too short to even keep claim over the girl I liked. Not that that stopped us from sneaking some kisses behind the wall. We were so young,” Elderhoof reminisced with a fond smile, lost in the memories. Slowly, the smile faded and a dimness set in his eyes.

“The ponies’ sun-princess tired of the protracted war. I remember the last day. A messenger come to town, boldly announcing our latest victory in pushing back the ponies. The braggart had scarcely finished relaying his messages before the sun was wrenched out of its heavenly orbit and brought over our lands.”

“The north was where our army stood, and so that is where the sun hovered.” Malvi’s face was blank and stony, but there was an almost imperceptible shake in his hands, which he brought to his chest reflexively, crossing his arms. “Even from Hooves’ Rest, the heat was unbearable. Wood caught alight, houses collapsed, and the winds raged and surged with the fiery updraft. Thunderous clouds roared and snapped, deafening the ears.”

“For a full day”–Malvi rasped–“the sun hovered above the north. I hid,” the elder stressed, looking into my eyes to make sure I was paying attention. “I curled up in a ditch and I cried and I hid, thinking that each moment would be the last one of my life. The blistering winds and collapsing buildings didn’t claim me, but everything was different when I crawled out of that ditch.”

“The breadbasket of Equus became ash that day,” Malvi lamented, his voice dry and cracking. “The north was gone. An endless sea of fertile wheat fields, burned to an ashen wasteland. They call it The Badlands now. The aquifers run dry and the soil accepts no life. Our homelands were cut in half.”

“It looked like the ponies would have overrun us easily then,” Malvi spat, turning his head off to the distance. “I later learned that their princess’ move crippled them too. Fires ruined their crop-season and, with their armies weakened, we were granted a few year’s reprieve. But did it even matter in the end? No wooden palisade or building survived the sun’s wrath. Our honoured warriors laid dead, without even bodies to lay to rest. Little survived but collapsed buildings, scattered minotaurs, and stone reminders of a grand civilization that had left this world without the last of its people. ”

“That was the day our kingdom died.”