This…is going to be unpleasant isn’t it, Zephyr thought to himself as he idly followed the compass. Ran all the way from home to ensure I didn’t get forced into the military and here I am making my way over towards it willingly! Hehm, great, just great.
The walk towards the military base was simple, at least in theory. Follow the compass and eventually you would find your there. An earlier look through the travel guide that he had helped him at the very least get an idea of what it was. It was large, open, had a heavy and high wall around it that was accented by an earthen rampart and ditch named curious named Jeb. It would be easy to get there, at least in theory.
But still, with the directions something about it ached Zephyr’s and put his hair on end. The reason for which was simple, he, the military, and in turn those affiliated with it had a relationship. A relationship that could best be described as…poorly. One of which led him to running away from his homeland and into The Isles.
Honestly, I could just not go, Zephyr thought to himself as he planted his feet and took a moment to think. Just head somewhere or anywhere that wasn’t there, but then what?
He looked around for a moment in the streets and didn’t see anything he could particularly do. It was still dark, nobody was around, and daybreak wouldn't come for an hour or two. Even if he wanted to grab a train or a cart out of here, how could he? They were closed right now anyway. It was better to just do something with his time than do nothing at all and to leave him alone with his thoughts. Because at least if he was going somewhere he could maybe make some progress on getting out here.
Yeah, because at least then I’ll know how long I have left before the Isles get itself stuffed into war, Zephyr bitterly thought to himself as he poked the compass that he held in his hands. Better to know than to not.
How long did he have anyway when that happened? Was it hours, days, weeks? How long would The Isles remain untouched by war? It couldn't be long now, everyone he spoke to more or less gave the feeling that something was going to happen soon, very soon.
And when it did happen, how long would they last? The Isles was just a small country state with no more than a single major island and a few others to its name. They had no real allies to help, no factories to make anything for them, and Zephyr suspected that they didn’t really have an army to make a stand with. Instead just a few hopefuls who were willing to fight the good fight along with the ignorance that everything would be okay in the end.
But that wouldn't matter at all Zephyr knew. Cloudsdale, his former home, thought the same with the way their city was made, with the militia’s they had coupled with the garrison given to them by Eqeustria, and the forts they had constructed and…..and…and.
The screaming of sirens, the buzz of airplanes high above, the rancid yet almost pleasant smell of burnt flesh, oil, gunpowder, and the deafening sound of overheated gem’s exploding coupled with the screech of magic dispelling hit Zephyr in a way sent him rocketing back to the past. One that was only accented with the feeling of falling…falling.. falling. To Where? Only the ground of course.
Thankfully the feeling didn’t last long, but it was there, and it was just enough for him to remember the night that Cloudsdale literally fell to the changelings. The night in which he realized how alone he truly was when he stood at the end of it all by himself in the ruins. Still, it was enough to send him reeling and stumbling from the recollection of what had happened to him before.
“Just breathe, just breathe,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he let out a wheeze while the blood drained away from his face as he scrambled onto a nearby wall for purchase. “You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, your not there, your here, home is far away, your away from there, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”
One breath, two, three breaths, four, in and out, in, and out. He was fine, he wasn’t home, he was here, he was far away from home, and sure he might not know how long he was safe, but he could find out. Sure the idea of it would make his skin crawl, it may bring back memories that he would rather leave behind him, and who knows what, but he could at least do that. And doing that was better than something, because doing something was better than nothing.
Because doing nothing just meant you weren’t doing anything at all, Zephyr thought to himself as he tried to calm himself down. Because that meant that you were lying on the ceiling dead as a fish and waiting for the noise in your head to go away all the while you were rotting away. And I'm not doing that right now, am I? No sir, no sir, not at all.
Taking a moment to pat himself down Zephyr checked his belongings and person: he felt his hat, he felt his jacket, his suitcase, the rings that were on his fingers, the badges that he was given, and his broken wings that were on his back that affirmed him of where he was . He was still here, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t home, and he wouldn't be dragged away to who knows where to die a terrible death.
“Yeah, yeah,” Zephyr muttered to himself before letting out a sigh and started walking while taking out the compass in his hands. “I’m here, I'm not there, and let’s get this thing over with before I go insane.”
And so paying attention to the compass zephyr stepped forward to follow the directions that were given to him to to the military. Like before he could feel his thoughts becoming his loose, his vision blurring past the recognition, and within moments he was gone. This time being whisked away to the military camp to where he could know just how much time The Isles had left if they were under attack. The former of which was a welcome reprieve this time around.
Well, when they said it was isolated and new, I didn’t expect it to be…this new, Zephyr thought to himself as recollected himself and found that he was looking at the outpost with the sun shining high above his head. Was it constructed like yesterday?
Like the chancery itself the outpost seemed makeshift as many locations in The isles albeit it was somewhat complete this time around. The few buildings around seemed to have been made of solid stone blocks and loosely held together with clay mortar. While concrete blocks, sections of plywood, metal plates, half-made wooden fencing, boulders, debris, and even a broken down car or two made up the perimeter wall surrounding the camp. All of which was accompanied by the earthen ditch and rampart named Jeb and whose existence was pointed out thanks to a sign written in various languages.
Combined all together it was a sight to behold and one that entirely befuddled Zephyr as he neared it while the strange feeling that he had from the metalworkers shop before. One where one step felt like it was ten, the buildings felt larger, the debris bigger or smaller by the moment, and everything just felt wrong. It was confusing, very confusing to say the least as Zephyr made his way through. Was that wall he looked at ten feet tall or was it twenty feet? No,maybe it was thirty? He couldn't tell in the end. Everything just felt like it was being stretched or squashed to its limit with him being in the middle of it.
Regardless, the place itself was relatively unguarded. With only a small set of guards stationed around the outside of the gate, and with a mere glance at the badges Zephyr had strapped to his jacket let him through. With the reasoning behind their actions being that thanks to his tired demeanor, sprained wings, and his haggard look’s coupled with the official looking badges gave them the impression of a government official. One whose time was precious to them and could not be wasted for a single second, and would certainly not be interrupted by a set of tired guards asking for paperwork they knew was most certainly there.
So Zephyr made his way inside the camp, and when he did the feeling of confusion and befuddlement only continued. Why? Because the entire place was somewhat empty, with only a minor amount of personnel around for the camp. Only a few hundred or so made up the entire place that could host over a thousand.
All the while the soldiers and the personnel that were around dressed in what he felt wore uniforms that belonged to a history museum. Because the soldiers that were inside of the outpost that actually wore uniforms didn’t wear modern military clothing or uniforms such as natural woodland colors and thin jackets or shirts. Instead they wore elaborate coats and jackets that were dyed purple, trimmed with gold, and felt fit more for a ballroom or a reenactment battle than anything else. The guards back at the chancery wore the same things and he thought it was just the uniforms they wore for being formal bodyguards until now.
And stranger still to Zephyr was that he hadn’t heard a single gunshot so far. A part of him suspected it to be because of some distant firing range to ensure people’s ears weren’t hurt, but racking through his memory as he approached the site Zephyr didn’t see anything like it when he got close. Instead the military base was all by itself. Just a simple base in the middle of a valley, with walls made out of scrap, a rampart named Jeb, and with soldiers dressed in antiquated uniform or in simple civilian’s clothing.
Overall, the strangeness of the situation calmed Zephyr in a way. He didn’t really know why, perhaps it was because of how dumbfounded he was by it all, or perhaps it was because he was there and didn’t really have a chance to run away anymore. Regardless, he was able to maneuver through the camp with ease. With him only giving the occasional grunt of acknowledgement to a soldier as they passed by, all of whom simply assumed the same thing that the gate guards did and left him alone.
All of which led to Zephyr finding his way into the center within a matter of minutes, and from which he saw an assemblage of soldiers together. The population of which was mostly dragons, young ones as they were mostly the height of a normal man given a foot or two in height, and with them the many flavors of humanity: earth ponies, unicorns, kirens, gryphons, and more. With them all obediently marching and drilling themselves to the tune of a drum and the shouts of a drill instructor.
And the drill instructor was just as eccentric as they dragons themselves. Because they were not dressed in standard uniform, but instead in heavy plate armor made from thick steel with a helmet that obscured his face entirely. One who was followed by the same diamond dog that Zephyr found before dutifully following behind him, taking notes, handing him items if gestured, and always having their head down in a gesture of obedience. Thankfully to Zephyr’s relief as he looked at them they had an identical badge that he was given to him before. But one that he would have discovered was exactly the same as his own if something else hadn’t distracted him from looking at it longer, something that left him dearly worried.
Are those muzzle loaders? Zephyr thought to himself as he squinted at what some of the soldiers were holding at their side. Oh my god those are.
Zephyr had only seen a muzzle loader once in his life, and that was when a now long forgotten and estranged acquaintance brought one out to show off during show and tell in school. It was a thing of beauty, made out of perfumed luxury wood and an ergonomic grip to go along with it, but there was a problem with it, a big one that all muzzleloaders shared, it was old and slow to reload. It took them nearly two whole minutes to reload it, one when he stopped fumbling around with the powder, but still two whole minutes to reload and fire it off, once. Zephyr knew the average rifle nowadays was either semi-automatic, bolt action, or automatic. Each one capable of firing more rounds in a minute than a muzzle loader could hope for in ten. It utterly dumbfounded him to see a working piece used in a modern army today.
Why would they be using those things here? Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the display unfold in front of him as the soldiers drilled and marched. It’s the modern day, shouldn't they be using modern rifles? The guards in the chancery had shotguns, don’t they have enough to go around?
Curious and wanting to know, Zephyr carefully made his exit from the scene and began searching around the place for an armory of some sorts. That way he can take a look at what the dragons really had for the weapons they had available to them. During which like before nobody bothered with him presuming the same thing that everyone else had, and within minutes he was able to make his way into one of the few armories that were kept within the base. The contents of which nearly left him speechless.
Oh my god it is really nothing but muskets, Zephyr thought to himself as he looked around. All around him he could see a mishmash of weapons that he thought to better in an old war museum than in an active training field: flintlocks, breechlocks, pikes, makeshift oil bombs, old cannons, and more made up its contents within the armory. All of whom were accompanied by crates upon crates of ammunition, but all of whom were stamped with a strange insignia on the side that he knew wasn’t just a factory’s maker mark. An imprint with a paw upon it.
Diamond dogs? Zephyr thought to himself as he ran a hand over the side of a crate of ammunition. Hmm, I wonder if that assistant’s employer had something to do with it.
He thought about it for a moment. It seemed likely. Hire a mercenary to come over and as they do they just happen to bring a few crates along with them for…personal use. Something of which they could simply sell to their own employers for a high price if they hadn’t already agreed upon it before. It was a simple plan and that he knew would certainly work in the right circumstances, there was just one problem that had in his mind.
Who even buys swords and black powder bombs these days anyway? Zephyr thought to himself as he handled a heavy and oversized sword for a moment before putting it back. I’M positive that using something like this will get you killed nowadays.
Looking around a bit more he noticed a few flintlock rifles that were sized for the usual height of a dragon, but whose number he found were less than a hundred. Barely enough to equip a squadron much less a company.
“I guess you do so when you're either ignorant enough to swindled for them, or your desperate enough for anything to arm yourself with that you couldn't care less for what your holding as long as it’s something,” he muttered to himself as he took a step back from the room before letting out a sigh.
“You know what, whatever,” Zephyr muttered as he grabbed his suitcase, took out his compass, noted the directions, and walked away from the armory. “It’s not my problem, it’s theirs. I already got what information I wanted here anyway so I should just get out of here while I still can.”
So grabbing his things Zephyr began to make his way out of the camp. With him speed walking through the place with his compass in hand. It didn’t help him in finding a direction as to which direction he was, he already had an idea based on but it at least helped him look important. Something of which was vital if you were in a military base snooping around in places where you shouldn't be looking in.
And things were going good for a time. None of the guards paid attention to him as they were still preoccupied with doing their things such as: fetching supplies, talking with one another, and simply finding whatever ways they could to pass the time. He was nearly out with him rounding a corner and seeing in the exit in sight until he heard the tell tale sound of a revolver being cocked.
“I would advise you to stop walking if you want to live,” said the gruff voice of a man in what Zephyr heard in Equestrian behind him. “If you don’t, well that’s on you and the bullet I have with your name on it.”
“Alright,” Zephyr replied with a sigh as turned around. When he did he saw the drill instructor from before holding up an armed revolver at him with the hammer cocked and ready to be fired.
Looking at it, Zephyr could immediately feel a small part of him wanting to freak out, to scream, to hide, and to do whatever he could to get out from the situation he was now in, but a larger part of him didn’t. The part of which felt tired and numb to everything from what he unwillingly remembered earlier simply said to not react at all, instead to simply react nonplussed to everything and to merely raise an eyebrow, so he did. With him leveling an accusing finger towards the drill instructor.
“Lessons done and you're using a bit of your free time to find me?” Zephyr jokes to the drill instructor, “or did you take a break instead?”
“The second,” the instructor answered Zephyr. “ Thought you were just some official at first, but a quick question from my s,” they paused to correct themselves,” my servant told me otherwise. They told me you were just some random person they had met weeks ago”
“Oh really?” Zephyr quipped with a dry smile. “Well good for you, any idea what you're going to do with that information.” He then pointed towards the pistol with a dull look in his eyes. “Are you going to shoot me with that gun you have?”
“Perhaps,” the drill instructor said as they took a moment to flex the fingers holding the pistol. “Or perhaps not, depends on what your here for.”
“Well if you want to know, I'm just someone passing through, that’s all,” Zephyr answered with a shrug. “I had some questions that I wanted to get an answer to, I got the answers for them, and now I'm heading out.”
“Oh really?” the instructor replied with a dry laugh. “Are you leaving so you can tell someone about them?”
“Oh no, no, no,” Zephyr refused with a shake of his head. “I’m heading out so I can leave this place before it gets steamrolled by the first country that has its eyes on it. I’m sure you've got a word by now about it right?” he asked him with a curious look.
“I mean,’ he said, waving a hand around him. “There's barely any soldiers here, your using muskets in a world of bolt action rifles, and while your dragons I'm sure that won’t mean a lot come time when a tank rolls up to you wanting what's yours for theirs now will it?”
“No, no it will not,” the instructor sighed out as he holstered the revolver that he had away before crossing his arms in a display of dismay. “I know what’s coming, and it won’t be pretty, I can tell you that.”
“No kidding,” Zephyr said with a raised eyebrow as he crossed both of his arms for a moment. “Mind telling me more about it?”
“If you have the time, but first you’ll have to tell me a bit about yourself before I tell you anything in return, ” the instructor said with a smile before making a motion behind him. “Follow me for now.”
Nodding towards the man Zephyr did so with his suitcase in hand. The only thoughts on his mind as he did so was just contentment on learning more of what was going on in the Isles. Another run in with an official and with more information to be learned.
“So, you mean to tell me that you ran away from home after being beaten by guards, hopped on a ship, made your way into the chancery, spoke to some people who I had never even knew existed until now, and you simply wanted to walk here to find out what was going on?” the instructor recounted what Zephyr had told him with a look of confusion.
“If you can believe it,” Zephyr said with a smile as he looked around the place. The two were in a tent and one that seemed to be one of the more permanent structures within the area. Because instead of simply being cramped and narrow inside, it instead was wide and tall with ample space inside of it; sporting low built sandbag walls, a radio built within it along with a small office consisting of a table littered with writing supplies, a comfortable cot, and all the while being clean and well maintained.
Right out of a demonstration manual, Zephyr noted to himself with a small smile as he turned his attention back to the instructor. Whom of which was currently seated across from him in a small chair made from stone as Zephyr sat down in one made of wood. Wonder if they set this place up themselves or if they had someone else do it for them.
“I mean there's not much more to say other than that,” Zephyr said to the instructor as he pulled his suitcase alongside him. “Does that satisfy your curiosity towards me for now?”
“It does,” the instructor answered with a nod. “I can tell that at the very least you're not a spy or someone that’s going to harm anyone. At least, anybody but yourself,” they finished adding the last part in with a bit of hesitation.
“That’s good,” Zephyr said with a nod just happy enough to not be shot for now. “By the way, is it alright if I start asking you some questions before I leave?.” He looked around for a moment. “It’s just so I can know the full idea of what’s going on.”
“Go ahead,” the instructor answered with a wave of a gauntleted hand. “As long as it isn’t invasive enough I'll see what I can do.”
“Right well, I guess first thing’s first,” Zephyr said, scratching the side of his head for a moment. “How did you even guess the language I spoke anyway? As far as I know I could have been speaking Maregyptian, changeling, or who knows what instead of Equestrian.”
“You learn after a while to guess those kinds of things,” the instructor answered. “Plus you are the spitting image of an Equestrian from what news I know back home: low born, dirty, ragged, probably flea infested, and god knows what else.”
Zephyr raised a hand to refute that he wasn’t infested with fleas, but the instructor persisted through.
“The courage that you displayed however while being held at gunpoint is a bit strange,” the instructor mused to himself for a moment before looking at Zephyr. “Are you a veteran of battle?”
“Oh, no no no no,” Zephyr adamantly refused. “I’m about as civilian as you can get. I’ve never held a weapon or fired one in my life.”
He then held up a set of fingers as he made a scissoring motion with them, “I'm a hair cutter back home if you can believe it,” Zephyr said with a smile before it turned into a frown. “Hame it didn’t last long however with the whole war going on.”
“I see,” the instructor said with a nod, “but that doesn't explain the way that you acted towards being held at gunpoint though.”
“Well uhm,” Zephyr erred for a minute as he scratched the back of his head. “Let’s just say that it’s been a bit of a tiring day.”
Zephyr couldn't see the facial gestures of the instructor, but he knew he could feel a quizzical look being given to him. .
“Just…uhh, yeah,” he said, giving a lackadaisical shrug towards his answer. “Sorry about that.”:
“It’s fine, keep your secrets then,” the instructor waved off. “It’s not like it’ll harm anyone anyway.”
“Thanks,” Zephyr said with a shy smile as , “I just..uhm, yeah.”
For a moment an awkward silence began to fall between the two before it was sharply interrupted by Zephyr as he said, “uhm anyway! So it seems like you already know your going to be invaded by someone. Do you mind telling me who?”
“Yes, yes, I suppose I could,” the instructor said as they rooted around the chair they sat on for a moment.
“Uhm, what are you,” Zephyr tried to remark before he was interrupted by the procurement of a bottle from the instructor. To which they uncapped it with a smooth motion before lifting their helmet revealing a waxed beard as they took a heavy slug from it.
“Just give me a moment,” they said as they took a moment to breathe before they took another slug from the bottle. “I don’t want to explain what I'm going to explain in the next few minutes while being sober.”
“Uhhh, why?’ Zephyr asked somewhat confused.
“Because it is entirely absurd that’s why,” the instructor said as they drained the bottle before looking for another. “I don’t want to say what I’m going to say next sober.”
“I guess,” Zephyr said, accepting the logic somewhat, “but don’t you have student’s to teach?”
“Ehhh they can wait,” the instructor said, waving off Zephyr as they took another drink. “They’ll be fine waiting for a few hours anyway, it’s not like it’ll make that much of a difference in the end.”
“Uhhh, alright,” Zephyr said as he looked around the tent and just now noticed the pile of bottles around. “I’ll be waiting here until you're ready.”
The instructor merely nodded in appreciation as they took another drink and with it drained a quarter of the bottle they held in the process.
“Mhmh, so,” the instructor began a bit tipsy after having drained three bottles. . “There is a man out there in the world, one who is smarter, wiser, but most importantly luckier than many others in the world. He wishes to set himself as a king and he is willing to do whatever can to accomplish his dreams. He will not bargain, nor will he buy, but instead simply take what he believes is rightfully his through fire and sword. The ideologies of harmony or neutrality mean nothing to him, and so the only way to stop him is to meet his forces in battle and to emerge victorious with his head on a pike.”
The instructor frowned for a second, before taking another swig and frowning at the taste. “And he isn’t the only one as well, hungry eyes watch The Isles now. Often with them having the same plans as the man has. Of which is to make The Isles theirs, to crown themselves the king of dragons, and to rule over them while enjoying the riches that this place has. That or to use it for what strategic value it has to them whatever it may be.”
“They are coming,” he continued before heaving a sigh,” and when they’ll come The Isles will stand alone. “Why?” he said to Zephyr, tilting his head. “Because they have cut themselves off from the rest of the world in their arrogance and pride.”
“And I am meant to help them in what ways I can by teaching them the ways of war,” the instructor said, giving a dark chuckle. “Hmph, a fool's errand, but one I shall attend to for honor.”
“Honor?” Zephyr said, raising an eyebrow confused that the mercenary in front of him had a sense of honor. “What do you mean by that?”
“As a knight it is my honor to do whatever my liege asks me,” the instructor answered Zephyr plainly gesturing at a nearby banner that sat in the corner displaying a rolled up banner. “I may be old, but I am not some craven mercenary with a lust for gold.”
The man sighed as he looked at the bottle before looking at it. As he did, Zephyr could feel an incalculable weight settle on the man’s shoulders. One that threatened to crush him into nothing.
“And before you ask, I am not alone in the job that I have been tasked with,” the instructor began, idly shifting the bottle from side to side and watching its contents shift all the while. “I am accompanied by five of my fellows who were all present along with I during the sacking of the mountain in 972. We were sent here due to our age and experience in the hopes that our efforts may bear fruit.”
“I see,” Zephyr acknowledged with a nod. “Is it going well?”
The instructor merely stared at Zephyr in a mixture of baleful hatred and undisguised bewilderment. One that was only calmed by the balm of alcohol as they took another drink and finished it.
“It's going terribly,” the instructor growled out, tossing the now empty bottle they had to the side. “I wouldn't be drinking this much if it was going well. As I have said before my colleagues and I have been asked to do the impossible, and the dragons make for poor students. They are too proud, too strong, and too stubborn in clinging to their own old ways to realize the full danger of the situation that they are in. The only reason that they’ve even begun listening to me now is after I've defeated their so-called…champion in single combat,” he said with a clear tone of disgust at the idea of someone formally opposing him.
Randolph merely raised a dubious eyebrow in response. Something to which the instructor merely answered by pointing to a bronze sword that lay next to his cot.
“Won that after I ripped out her spine and I haven't had an argument since then.” The instructor duly answered. “It's a good sword if you're wondering, good metal , the enchantment is well, and I'm positive that it's older than my homeland so if I ever want to pawn it off I can probably make a fair amount off of it.”
Zephyr began to make a motion to respond, but knowing what it was the instructor cut him off.
“She’s fine before you ask,” the instructor said, waving off the question, “after the duel the medics stitched her back together and now she’s one of the top leading students.” He stopped for a moment to think. “She could even be officer material if given the chance. Mhmh, something to consider later I suppose for myself.”
“I…see,” Zephyr said to himself as he took the information in. It wasn’t good to say the least, The Isles was outmanned, outgunned, out developed, and they were outperformed in nearly every aspect that could count. The only thing that Zephyr suspected that they didn’t was that The Isles was one of the few sources of dragons in the world. Dragons were tough and strong, and their legendary reputation that they had wasn’t for nothing after all.
But would that be enough? He knew dragons were stubborn and tough, tough enough to ignore bullets and shrapnel, but were they tough enough to ignore cannons? What about tanks? What about bombs?
He didn’t know, the thought unsettled him. Was the situation truly hopeless? Was the end so settled already in sight? Wanting to know, he asked the instructor for an answer. And what he got was a mixed response.
“To be honest it’s… complicated,” the instructor admitted, dwelling on his words for a moment in hesitation. “The situation I will admit is not entirely hopeless, but it is one that is clearly not in their favor. They have no rifles or weapons apart from the loot that they have along with the ones I have brought from my homeland, and there is no pre-built defense to use or ground to lose. If a landing is made it must be repulsed right then and there or in the early stages when they reach the ports or it will be the end.”
“But,” the instructor said, holding up a finger, “if they have one thing going for them it’s their heritage. Their hide is thick enough to repel most bullets, their breath can melt flesh and steel with ease, and they are stubborn in a very peculiar way that I've never seen before to injury. Because I do not know why, but they are able to revive themselves in a way that no other man can.”
“What do you mean by reviving themselves?” Zephyr asked, confused. “Like they just bring themselves back from the dead?”
“Not exactly,” the instructor answered with a shake of his head. “When they are grievously injured their bodies go into a state of hibernation. One that allows them to survive nearly every wound that I can imagine on this earth, even decapitation.”
“Even that?” Zephyr said befuddled by it. “I thought things would die if you cut the head off.”
“They do, but for dragons things are different,” the instructor answered. “Because for them that separated head can be sewed back on without a worry sometime later. A bit of stitching here, a few healing poultices made from gems there, and given some time any dragon can seemingly come back from the dead even if they were in pieces moments ago. Exsanguination, limb loss, heavy damage to one’s own body and brain, and more are nothing but minor injuries for them,” the instructor continued in a morbid yet fascinated tone. “There's a limit of course to time and one's injuries, but the concept of it existing is something that I've never heard of before.”
“Mhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in reply. “But just because you're tough doesn't help a lot you know? You can’t do much if most of your head is gone and your waiting for your friends to stitch you back together.”
“Of course, of course,” the instructor agreed with a nod and a wave. “But what i've mentioned is just one thing for them,and they have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves that’s turned them into the legendary raiders that they are known for today. For example, have you ever seen a dragon crack open a tank like it was a block of wood with an axe?”
“No,” Zephyr uttered out.
The instructor merely pointed towards a corner and upon further investigation revealed a large steel plate that was over six inches thick and with a heavy gash punched right through it. Next to it was an unassuming fire axe whose pommel was made from a gem.
“That stranger, is what I mean by their heritage and the tricks they have up their sleeves,” the instructor said with an air of triumph. “Give them a magical axe or hammer designed to break stone and they can use it to punch through steel plates. They might not be able to destroy it outright, but all you need is a good hit or two to disable it, crack open a gash wide enough for flame to get through, and allow yourselves a chance to incinerate the crew inside,” he said with a light tone and a chuckle. “Making the weapons is easy as well, and finding fools brave enough to do it is even easier with the students I have on hand.”
“I-i-i guess,” Zephyr said with a bit of a stutter as the mention of people being burnt alive brought back troubling memories. "So uhm,” he said, taking a breath to try to steady his nerves,” your writing about the doctrine of modern tactics for the dragons?”
“Eh not entirely,’ the instructor said with a shake of his head. “I’m not alone, but I was the one who drew up the plans for that one. My comrades have their own ideas so if we ever manage to write a book I won’t be the only one getting the credit for it,” he finished with a bit of disappointment and envy.
“Mhmh, w-well, at the very least it seems that you have things good for now,” Zephyr said, getting up as his legs still shook. “I should be going now while I still can.”
“Alright,” the instructor acquiesced , “you stay safe alright? It’s a dangerous world out beyond The Isles, and trust me when I say this, people aren’t going to be as welcome or as ignorant as they are here.”
“I’ll uh…try sir, I’ll try, " Zephyr answered with a shaky smile before he began to leave, “ see you around.”
The instructor merely gave a wave of goodbye as Zephyr exited the tent and into the camp’s open air, and within moments he felt himself fade away.
W-well, I guess that’s that, Zephyr thought to himself as he took a moment to reorient himself. Now finding himself standing in the middle of The Mountain’s streets in the afternoon. The situation isn’t exactly great, but it isn’t hopeless I guess. Maybe things will work out for the better after all.
But on the other hand it couldn't. The isles will be invaded that was for sure by now and it wasn’t a matter of if it could be, but instead a matter of when. And when it did it could fall just apart just like Equestria, except this time there would be nowhere to run to. Anyone that was living in The Isles when the invasion began would be stuck there, helpless to resist the wills of either the government in charge or the invading army.
And that didn’t sit right with Zephyr , it didn’t sit right with him at all. It sent chills down his spine, made hair stand on end, and it made that sinking feeling in his gut sink even deeper than before. He had to leave while he still could. The only question was, how could he even do that? He didn’t know where to go, what to do, or even who to speak to. Without an answer, Zephyr chose to pull out the guide and look for somewhere to go next. It wouldn't help him right now with getting out of The isles, but it could at least get him doing something in the end. And to him doing something, even if it only distracted him, was better than doing nothing.
What to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he read through the guidebook in search of an answer now that he was slowly walking. It didn’t provide much in the way of things. Instead giving him the usual script of answers that he knew before: stores, hotels, places to exchange cash, and more.
“Heavens above, is there anything that people do around here?” he grumbled to himself as he thrashed the book that he had momentarily. “Seriously it just feels like all there is to do here is just work, eat, sleep, fight, and who knows what.”
Frustrated he threw it on the ground whereupon the book split revealing a hidden page that was glued together, a a picture of a graveyard, but not just any graveyard one that could have only been
Oh hello, why have you been hiding from me so long?” Zephyr said to himself with a smile as he picked it up and read through the page. And of which the manual described was a traditional burial site for many dragons within The Isles started long ago. With elders, whelps, failed eggs, honored foreign champions, and more being buried within the place.
But, buried for a loose sense of the word. Because as Zephyr read through it, he learned that the place functioned less as a graveyard and more as a natural crematorium site. Because anything that was buried there quickly combusted and turned into soot and ash in a matter of minutes, at least anything that wasn’t a dragon. If a dragon was buried there, they could slowly be cooked and cremated. A process of which was extremely slow for them thanks to their hide and oftentimes requiring a helping hand to shift the corpse around like they were barbecuing meat.
But, it was the only place and method that worked for them the book described. Dragon’s didn’t decompose easily and unless they were eaten by another, destroyed by industrial methods, or cooked in that place it could take decades or even centuries for them to decay into nothing. And oftentimes failing to do even that as they would mummify or fossilize into an ageless thing, eventually be found by an errant student, and become a museum piece.
“A museum piece? How could that happ- oh right that happened last year didn’t it,,” Zephyr mumbled to himself as he remembered more than a few incidents involving archeology and dragon history in the past. Most of which involved dragons petitioning for a museum to relinquish their inventory on a new species or item that was discovered The basis of their claims being that the inventory that they held was simply an old ancestor that they wanted returned to them.
Sadly, most of those requests were turned down. Either with researchers saying that whatever they found couldn't possibly be a dragon, as dragons didn’t have short arms, strange beaks, or whatever strange mutation they had found the accused object of having. With one example being the widely known Tyrannosaurus Rex proudly held at museum’s today. Something to which the book stated to simply be a minor species of dragons that just had small arms.
“Heh, honestly I have to see this place for myself then,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he noted down the directions for the place before making his way towards it. “Probably won’t ever get a chance to see a place like that when I leave.”
“Hmph, abandon all hope ye who enter here,” he said to himself as he took a look inside of the graveyard that the book described. One of which he felt could have been better to have described as a pit that felt like the entrance to tartarus.
Because the pit itself was several miles wide, deep, and utterly huge. Its size is easily able to accommodate both elder dragons, normal ones, and anyone that would be willing to cross the stone gate that it had for entrance to go inside. Something of which stood as a border as anyone that was subject to that strange effect Zephyr had before. The very space itself stretching, moving, and shifting to accommodate its inhabitants with ease like before in the metalsmiths workshop.
As for what was inside of the pit, Zephyr couldn't make out the contents due to the sheer distance of the pit and the effect from before, but he could see various people moving around the place. Some were moving deeper into the pit carrying on their backs gems, stones, small figures, scrimshaw carvings, and more on the singular road that went into the center. While others were simply flying around, either going into their chosen spot or flying so deep into the depths of the pit that they eventually faded away from sight.
“Peculiar place to say the least,” he mumbled to himself as he shielded his eyes from the sight. “I wonder what this place looks like to a camera. It’s got to be something to say the least, especially to those colored ones.”
And for a moment he imagined an excited photographer trying to take a picture of the pit. Something that ended with the camera either malfunctioning, exploding, or showing a distorted picture of it like someone rubbing their finger across a newly painted canvas. With graveyards, people, items, and more moving from location to location like a spirit photo.
Heh. Well enough of that I guess, the only thing left to do now is to go inside anytime soon, Zephyr thought to himself as he took a moment to ensure that he was still gripping his suitcase before passing the stone goat and making his way inside. All the while not noticing a sign next to the entrance that warned its inhabitants to not let anyone that was a dragon or a kiren inside. Because if they did the sign warned that there was a good chance of them simply combusting into flame due to the sheer heat that place contained within.
The trip there was slow, uneventful, but strangely peculiar. All around him as Zephyr walked through he could see dragons of all shapes and sizes going around. Some of them were carrying around gigantic palanquin upon which a figure was shrouded away from view in clothes, others carried tools with them such as hooks and shovels, and more than a few had with them the treasuries and offerings to be placed around. With the wealth of those offerings often being enough that any person who just grabbed a handful of them could be set for life.
But strangely to him…nobody touched the offerings that were left out for the dead. Nobody moved to grab them, no fights started over them, nothing. Nothing except perhaps a simple nod of acceptance from anyone that watched as they moved on.
It was a strange place to say the least, and if the people weren’t strange to the ordinary viewer then the road itself and the activities that took place along it would be instead. Because littered beside the road were volcanic vents upon which the corpses of dragons would be dumped within, buried beside, and disposed of by workers. All of whom weren’t priests by any means. They were workers, simple as, and as simple can be. WIth them burying the corpses that were brought to them, tending to them, guiding the fava flaws that came from the various vents nearby, and excavating the bones of their fallen kin with heavy tools made from metal and bone.
As for the road, the road itself took care to never trespass into the volcanic vents, but it certainly went near them. Near enough that while Zephyr could never see what was going on inside of the events, he could see the heat coming off of them blackening the edges of his clothes.
Hmph, I wonder how much these guys are getting paid. Is it a lot or do they do it for free? Zephyr thought to himself as he watched a team of workers slowly maintain the corpse of a dragon that was as large as a mountain. Well whatever, moving on…oh?
Next to the ground that was on the was a discarded knife, one that was red hot. Without much care or thought he picked it up in his bare hand and as he felt it much to his surprise he didn’t feel anything. No heat came from it, nothing blistered his skin, and instead all that was left was just him holding a red hot knife. but surprisingly he didn’t feel the heat at all even if it touched his bare skin.
“Hmm,” Zephyr hummed to himself as he then took a moment to casually move the knife to and fro finger to finger and watched as it still didn’t burn his skin or flesh. “Shouldn't this hurt?”
And taking some time to recall his memory Zephyr eventually made the conclusion that yes, holding red hot knives should hurt. Especially because a little over a year ago he had a habit of picking up pots, pans, and cooking ware that were straight from the oven. So…why didn’t it hurt now? Was this a part of Discord’s blessing? And if so, how far did it go? He didn’t feel the heat from the furnace before when he was in the metalsmiths workshop and it didn’t hurt him when he dug his nails into his arm, so when would it hurt? Did it even matter?
Acting off of macabre curiosity Zephyr idly pressed the knife that he had into his other arm. First just the side to see what would happen followed by its edge. Strangely just like before he felt nothing. Even when he scraped it across his skin and he saw the scratch marks form he still barely felt anything at all.
“Hmm,” he hummed out as he held out the knife and twirled it between his fingers, “that’s interesting. I wonder what would happen if,” he mumbled to himself as he inched the knife towards his arm with the tip pointed .
But before he could do anything to himself, he was interrupted by a gruff voice by his side. And turning around he saw what he could only describe to be giant. One whose height and size was so large that he couldn't make out what it was, instead all he could see was simply a humanoid figure towering above and looking down. It had to be an elder dragon, nothing else on earth could match that size or presence.
“Are you alright young one?” it said in a voice that didn't have any physical volume, tone, or accent, but instead one that felt like a resonance. Like the feeling of a bell being played and everyone understanding what it meant no matter what it was. Hearing it reminded him of his talks with Discord. It wasn’t exact, not by a mile, but it felt familiar, eerily familiar.
“I’m fine,” Zephyr said as he slowly moved the knife away from his arm. “I’m just...just,” he repeated to himself hollowly before letting out a sigh and tossing the knife that he had away, “I'm just trying to know what’s going on.”
“In what way?” the elder asked him, “perhaps I can help you with that?”
“No, no, I don’t think you can,” Zephyr refused with a shake of his head as he thought about his ultimate predicament on how to get out of The Isles in one piece. “I don’t think anyone can, not right now.”
“I see, a pity then” the elder acknowledged his request humbly, “is there anything I can help you with then youngling? Or perhaps I should leave you alone.”
Zephyr thought about it for a bit. Could this person help him? Maybe they did know someone that could get him out of here, and if they didn't, it at least would distract him from hurting himself with a knife. That at least could be seen as a plus.
But, asking someone right away if they knew a smuggler felt awkward, he would have to approach the topic slowly and carefully, so how could he do that? Well, he could ask about the cremation pit that he was in for what information the elder knew, that could be a start.
“Eh, I guess you can help me with something if you have the time,” Zephyr said to the elder. Fishing through his pockets before pulling out the travel guide that he had and holding it up as high as he could.
“See, I have this guide on me, and while it told me a little bit on The Isles, it didn’t tell me a lot ” he started to explain as he flipped through it. “Maybe you can help me understand a little bit more about it? I mean,” he said for a moment as he looked around again. “I’ve never seen anything like this before in any of the books that I've read before, so I was wondering if I can learn a little bit more about this place.”
“Very well,” the elder said with a nod of its head, or at least what Zephyr hoped to be its head. “Where would you like to start?”
“I guess how old is this place?” Zephyr asked before looking around. “Like is it ten thousand, twenty thousand?”
“Mhmhh, millions I would say is a better word,” the elder answered as it made a motion to think. “This place itself I would say is older than your kind. With the bones of the creatures having lived here perhaps outdating your people.”
It took a moment to smile, or at least what Zephyr thought to be a smile as it gestured around the place. “Mhmh yes. For example I remember this place still existing long before when I had heard of some sort of…squabble between your people. One that nearly ruined them as they had summoned some sort of winter spirit that threatened to doom them all.”
“Winter spirit?” Zephyr said confused, cocking his head to the side, “do you mean the windigos? Those winter spirits?”
“Yes, those,” the elder confirmed with a wave as if it was talking about a minor event that happened last week. “I don’t remember much of it as I was still raiding up and down the eastern lands, but I do remember the cold that they had summoned at the time being compared to my cousin’s very own breath,” they said with a chuckle. “Sadly I never saw it myself as by the time I had returned to The Isles where the winds could carry the cold in-land they had been banished already.
“A shame,” they said with a shake of their head before they took a moment to think. “Or perhaps not, as from what I remember of my cousin telling me, there wasn’t much loot to go around from your kind. Nothing but wood, dirt, coal, and cold flesh could be looted from the nearby lands and doesn't sound like appealing treasure now does it?”
“No, no it doesn't,” Zephyr began to reply automatically before the weight of what the elder had hit him. “W-wait-wait, let’s stop for a moment, are you saying you're older than Equestria itself?”
“Nearly all of us that are elders are,” they answered plainly with a shrug and a quizzical look. “Our people live for a long time, a very very long time. Death comes to us not from old age and the deterioration of our health with it, but instead from war, illness or mistake. Because in all of the time that I have been alive, I have never seen one of us die from simply…being old,” they finished as if the world was foreign to them.
“I…see,” Zephyr said, his head nodding in an automatic response. “Then I guess changing the subject for a bit, what do you remember back then?”
“Back then?” the elder said haltingly and a bit confused. “What do you mean by, back then?”
‘ “I mean back when there weren't a lot of people,” Zephyr clarified. “Back when the world was unexplored, smog wasn’t around, war wasn’t commonplace, and the skies were still free,” he said wistfully, believing the tales of a world that was unspoiled before the modern era. “What was it like back then?”
That set the elder into a moment of silence, one that was only punctuated by them nearly taking a breath and a sigh.
“I suppose that in a way it was crowded,very crowded,” they said eventually. “There was so much back then. So much more than your people, the gryphons, or the like with your singular nations along with the industry that they have. Because wild beasts roamed the world without care or master, civilizations rose and fell without much effect, each one being as unique as the last, and in turn my kind was so numerous back then. Because everywhere there was a port, a city, or some village in the world we were around in some way. Everyone knew who we were, what we were, and what we did. We were dragons, the blessed species of this world, fearsome predators, rich raiders, and beholden to none save ourselves.
They sighed now as the weight of the ages fell upon them for a moment.
“No, not so much now,” they whispered to themselves in a voice that Zephyr could barely hear. “Now we are slowly dying out. Every year I've seen the eggs hatch, and I swear that the numbers that are displayed are so much fewer than they once were. There used to be tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of them, and now, now, it’s nothing but perhaps a few hundred or a thousand at the most that hatch.”
“A shame,” they said to themselves, shaking their head,” a shame. I’m sure in perhaps a few hundred years or a few decades of gruesome war we may be nothing more than a myth to you people. A myth that can only be dispelled by those who visit our island,” they said despondently. “That is if it hasn’t happened already.”
There was a moment of silence and one of grief that ensued. Zephyr to allow the elder to compose themselves, and The elder to mourn what had happened and what would.
“Is there anything that can be done against it?” Zephyr asked the elder. “Anything at all.”
“Not much I'm afraid, but I've heard one or two things. If I recall we could have lost an entire season’s worth if it were not for that petulant child Garble and his…poetry, they said with little confidence and a tone of disgust. “So maybe things can be better, but I wouldn't hold my breath.”
“Well, at least it’s something,” Zephyr said, trying to console the elder. “Maybe they can work something out in the future.”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” they said to themselves before letting out a sigh and turning back to Zephyr. “But that’s neither here nor there. By the time it affects us, you’ll be long gone by then, so let’s move on the topic shall we?”
“Okay,” Zephyr accepted before taking a moment to think. What could he ask the elder if he couldn't ask about The Isles of the dragons themselves. Perhaps Celestia? No, that didn’t feel like a good question either. Maybe religion? Maybe, maybe, but perhaps a better start would be what the world felt like to them now.
That could work, Zephyr thought to himself with a nod as he voiced his question to the elder, a lot better than asking him on what he felt on how things are politics wise.
In reply the elder merely hummed for a moment. “Well, apart from what I've said about the world feeling more empty, the world has always been what it has always been. Nothing feels too ordinary and out of place in a broad way,” they said with a slight scoff. “Over a thousand years and the nature of the races of the world have yet to change at all.”
“Really?” Zephyr uttered out loud. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean the world has been what it has always been in the large scale of things,” the elder answered plainly. “Leaders are competing for resources, for ideologies, and for self worth either for themselves, the place they live in, or for others. All the while war is underway across the globe, people are persecuted, they are slaughtered, recruited willingly or not to serve, and more. Nations rise, they fall, and in turn life continues.”
The Elder looked at Zephyr as if they were describing the fact that it was daytime. “The world has always been what it has always been along with its people. Nothing truly significant has changed in my eyes in the many millennia that I've been alive. Except this time,” they mused for a moment, “I suppose that we are entering an era of bloodshed fought not with magic or bronze swords, but ones with guns and cannons.”
“I uhm,” Zephyr tried to say, somewhat staggered by the information. “But what about the maregyptian’s, Nightmare Moon, and so many others, what about them?” he tried to argue. “I mean there hasn’t been anything like that in a while and I don’t think anything will.”
“Perhaps, but in turn the consequences and the patterns that they are beholden to are the same across the world,” the elder answered back. “I can’t tell you how many times I've seen nations slowly stagnant into nothing, powerful siblings and families with demi-god-like power torn apart by strife or jealousy, wars started over petty reasons such as a man not having an heir that was of age, and super weapons created to deter war only to be used to catastrophic effect by men and women who do not know it’s true power.”
The elder scoffed for a moment with a sad smile that was unseen by Zephyr as they remembered the past.
“It’s a cycle youngling,” they said plainly with a tone of sadness in their voice, “one in which we are beholden to, and unable to escape from. The age that we are in may carry a different flavor, but it is still the same nonetheless.”
“Is there anything that we can do to stop it?” Zephyr asked the elder. “Any way to stop it at all?”
They only shook their head sadly. “No,” they replied. “We can do nothing against it, trust me. When you live as long as I have, you realize that history becomes in your eyes a spinning top. Spinning, spinning, and spinning, doing the same things over and over again until one day it’ll stop altogether. Harmony cannot stop it, absolutism cannot, neither can aristocracy, or any other strange ideologies the world may have nowadays,” they said waving an arm in the air.
“The only thing we can do in defense against it is to simply live our lives the best that we can and to the truest of our potential,” they continued. “That way when we are broken by it, we can at least be who we are,” they finished before giving a shrug. There was nothing more to say in their mind, everything that can be said about it already was.
Zephyr in reaction said nothing, he only gave a sigh and a nod. Not one of acceptance to the idea, but merely one to show that at least he was listening. He wasn’t sure what to make of the information. Was history just a downward spiral? He heard the saying that it rhymes, but did they eventually end? If so, when? When would it end?
I don’t know, he concluded to himself before giving a sigh, I just don’t know what to make or do of it.
“I’m sorry if what I said was not to your liking,” the elder apologized to Zephyr, noticing his internal conflict. “It is the truth, an ugly one, but one that needs to be learned. And better to learn it now than later through the act of senseless rebellion.”
“It’s…it’s fine,” Zephyr said, waving off his concern . “I think I might need a little bit of time to process it, that's all.”
The elder simply nodded as they cast their eyes back to the pit.
“I suppose in the meantime, is there anything I can help you with?” the elder asked one more time. “Anything at all.”
“Sort of?” Zephyr said with a bit of hesitation and seeing his chance to ask the earlier question he intended for the elder. “Honestly it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you knew a fisherman, a sailor or something.”
“What for?” the elder asked.
“I’m uh,” Zephyr awkwardly said for a moment as he looked around nervously for anyone that might be watching. “I'm looking to get out of this place, and I need someone that can help me with that. And I don’t mean just to get me out of the city, I mean to help me get out of The isles in general.
The elder said nothing allowing Zephyr to continue.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm saying is weird, and it’s probably a bit illegal,” he admitted to himself with a bitter laugh. “But I do need help getting out of here, because I'm sure that you know what’s going to happen here soon, and I don’t want to be a part of it…not at all.”
Zephyr made a motion to sigh, but he couldn't find the energy. All he could do was just make a bitter face and chew his lip for a moment before looking up at The Elder.
“So do you know anyone like that?” he asked the elder. “Do you know anyone can get me out of here before it’s too late?.”
He was met with only silence from the elder.
“Yeah, I knew that was a long shot anyway,” Zephyr muttered out loud as he grabbed his suitcase, and dusted the soot on it. “I should be going now, see if I can find someone before it’s too late.”
He was about to leave before the elder said hesitantly , “I do know someone.”
“You do?” Zephyr said, turning around with a sparkle in his eyes, “who?”
“A friend of mine who is a fisherman in the southern ports,” the elder said hesitantly. “He goes by Lazuli and he can help you with what you want, but,” they said, holding up a finger. “He will ask for something from you in return.”
“And what will that be?” Zephyr asked, expecting the answer to be enough cash to drain him dry.
“For you to fish with him,” the elder responded. “He is an old man, entirely alone in the world with no family, and his only companions are the harpoons he carries, the skiff he owns, and the sea. I am sure that he will be more than happy to fulfill your request if you fulfill his own.”
“I guess I can,” Zephyr said hesitantly, “but why doesn't he just hire someone to fish with him or take on an apprentice? I’m pretty sure it can’t be that expensive to hire an assistant or two, especially if he’s a dragon. Shouldn't he be rich if he’s old?”
“His reasons are his own,” the elder answered, “but if I were to make a guess it could be because he’s already tried. Nobody will want to fish with him because of the reputation he carries.”
“And why is that?’ Zephyr asked.
“That he’s said to be unlucky, strange, and mad,” the elder answered with a smile unseen by Zephyr. “I understand why they say that though. It takes a very strange man to fish the beasts that he does with nothing but an old skiff and some harpoons.”
The elder looked at Zephyr for a moment before it nodded to himself. “He’ll like you, you're strange as well,” the elder said. I’ll send him a message and he’ll be waiting at the southern docks for you. Don’t look for him explicitly, he’ll find you.”
‘Thank you?” Zephyr said somewhat unsure at the compliment as he scratched the side of his face. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”
“He’s an old man, older than most, with tattered wings just like yours, and he’s dressed in a blue fishing coat,” the elder said.
“Is that where he gets his name Lazuli from?” Zephyr asked with a light laugh. “Because of his coat?”
“No, it’s because of his eyes,” the elder answered with a wistful smile that suggested something more. “His are unlike anyone else's as they are as deep and as shining as the sea’s. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Alright, “Zephyr said with a nod, making a note of Lazuli’s key feature before grabbing his suitcase. “I’ll be going now, thanks again for the help, and may you have a good day.”
“And yours as well younglings,” the elder said. “Yours as well.”
With a nod Zephyr left the elder and slowly began to walk back up the spiral pit to the surface from the pit. It was slow, a bit exhausting, and he kept getting weird looks from dragons around him, but nothing strange happened.Nobody bothered him, nobody harassed him, and while Discord’s blessing affected him as it blurred his memories of the walk, nothing else of note happened.
Which is good, because I can now focus on just getting out of here, Zephyr thought to himself as he finally made his way out of the pit in the evening and pulled out his compass. As before it wildly spun around and around again, south became east, east became west, north became south, and so on and so forth until he focused it in his hands. The only thing left to do now is just to follow this compass here and I'll get there in time, maybe in a week or two i’ll be out of here.
Hmph, yeah, if only, Zephyr concluded his thoughts with a small laugh as he noted the directions that the compass gave him and obeyed it. All the still not noticing the warning sign planted near the entrance warning travelers from coming inside Instead like before as he walked away his thoughts became loose, his footsteps felt like they weren’t his own, and within seconds he was whisked away to his next destination.