//------------------------------//
// Interlude: Somewhere Else in Stoneanchor... 
// Story: Fire on the Mountain 
// by MongolianFoodHoarder 
//------------------------------//

It was that calm serenity one feels after a long night of jubilance. The dust gently danced between beams of gold sunlight that bled through the blinds. A gentle murmur of voices rang from the outside, telling the room that the world was carrying on without them. But, this world seemed far away to the room’s inhabitants. What it inspired them to do was to slowly wake, defiant of the hustle and bustle.
Their room was reasonably sized, as some dorm rooms are. Paneled wainscotting hugged the walls, bordered on top with a warm scarlet. Its oaken floors were recently polished, only partially obscured by the plethora of clothing that seemed to grow endlessly from between the panels. They led from the door to a simple, four poster bed in the middle of the room, which sagged heavy with use from long days past.
Who first awoke was a scrawny-looking zebra, whose striped mane stuck out in every direction. He was unphased by the rat’s nest, and simply shrugged his shoulders before a good stretch, pulling every fiber straight. His long groan shook his body, pulling him ever-so slightly back from the fringes of consciousness. 
His noise caused his bedmate’s ears to flick at the sound, which was joined by a heavy sigh. She pushed herself from her pillow, hanging her head to stretch it. Her talons gently kneaded the sheets as she continued to stretch — arching her back, straightening her legs, and unfurling her wings. A labored moan escaped her as her body too came back to the land of the living. 
She shuddered briefly as a calm hoof lined her spine. Memories of the past night gently tingled her nethers, causing her tail to wag. 
“Alun,” she cooed. “You know I’d love another round, but —”
    “I know,” Alun replied, opting just to stroke her side. “But you have to admit, we’re just so compatible.” 
The eagless chuckled, falling onto her side to face him. “Did we have to go so long, though? Today is too important to be sleeping in” — she playfully jabbed his barrel — “and we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.” She reached up to stroke Alun’s face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. 
Alun took a deep breath and tightened his teeth together, trying to calm himself. “I hate when you do that, Hazel.” He pulled the sheets closer to him. “Not that I don’t like it, but I  hurt right now, you understand?”
Hazel giggled, playfully punching him on the shoulder. “You bawdy zeb! That thing is gonna snap off if you don’t keep it under control!” 
“What?” He asked in mock defense. “I’m to blame here? While you throw about your callous hunger for the pleasures of the flesh?” He forced his head away, looking to the ceiling. “I’m offended, madam. Offended!”
She crawled over onto him, pushing her delicate beak against his snout. “'Tis more than a hunger. But unlike a certain other person, I at least have the mind to refrain.” 
“That’s not what I heard last night,” Alun challenged, pushing himself at her through the sheets. The eagless visibly shuddered at the touch, gently nibbling on her tongue. 
“Ah, but —” he pulled back, lying flat “— you’re right as always.” 
“Alun, you speckin’ little tease, you.” 
He flashed a cocky smirk. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.” 
Hazel was silent for a moment, scowling. But she eventually squeaked out, “I do.” She then grabbed him from under the sheets, capturing him between the legs. “And I know you like it when I tease you.” 
Alun inhaled sharply, baring his teeth. She let go just as quickly, smiling devilishly. 
“I knew I had a reason to stay with you,” he said as she dismounted. 
Hazel pulled on her chemise, tightening the drawstrings. “Good, I was afraid our conversations were the only reason!” 
“It makes for some passable pillow talk,” Alun responded, pulling on his shirt. After he pushed its frilled collar up, he pulled at the cuffs, tightening them. “Would you mind tying these, please?”
She chuckled as she grabbed the first hoof and began tying. “Passable? Here I thought the classics meant more to you?”
“No, it was just to get you into bed.” 
“You’re lucky Starswirl’s musings are a real turn on, Alun.” She finished up tying the cuffs. “There you are.”
“Thank you.” He slid on his jacket, while admiring Hazel pulling on her corset. “You know how Equestrians like to write. All that fluff and romance. Makes adoring their queen so much easier, don’t you think?”
“Princess, dear,” she corrected. “I suppose it’s a simple way to put it, though — Call it indoctrination, propaganda, what have you. When you have something in place for so long, wouldn’t you consider heaping praise onto it?”  
He grunted he pulled his hoof comb through his mane. “Think about all the poetry and prose that we’ve made about what we have. How many lines are there that glorifies Thy Glim’ring Spire? But in our case, we compare ourselves to every other nation  — We are the crown jewel of the world’s exceptions. How many democracies can you think of outside of ours and the Prench?” 
“Glimmering, indeed!” She tied the last pull on her corset. “We’re not innocent, of course. I mean, take Bluefeathers’ works, for example — They were love letters to fathers or ancestors of whatever warlord patronized him back before the Resurgence.”
“Probably to survive.”
Hazel nodded sagely. “Naturally. But it’s the same thing here — Patriots aren’t paupers.” 
Alun smiled, securing his baldric. “I like that. Maybe I’ll throw that into a speech.” 
“Ah! Speaking of which!” Hazel walked over to a bag hanging on one of the posters of the bed, pulling out a small pamphlet. She opened it up and traced a finger across the details. “I want us to go to this convention next month. The student unions from Rasorgi, Kaelgot and Aethelmearc will be there — You keep saying we need to coordinate just like the labor unions, this is one of the best opportunities to do it!”
“Good eye on that one, Hazel, I’ll pass it onto the marshal. One union can maybe affect one campus, but the whole country would be better.” Alun shifted himself in his jacket, shaking the frills out of the sleeves. “I’m getting tired of doing this alone!” 
“After today’s demonstration, it’ll be more than enough to show everyone that we’re capable.” She walked over and rested the underside of her jaw on his head. Alun smiled, feeling her breath flush down the back of his neck. They sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the arua. They felt each other’s warmth, a needed sensation as the days grew colder. Hazel pulled a smock over them briefly, if only to savor it for a little while longer.
They heard the bustle outside grow to a consistent din, voices rolling in like the crash of a wave on the shore. What was once a simple, pastoral morning was beginning to feel like the start of a hurricane, which could’ve been mistaken as any other student gathering. Outside their door, they heard the stomping of students and the rushing of voices. The sounds of preparation gathered, as affirmations of readiness and the gathering of supplies echoed through the hall. 
Hazel broke their silence. “Are you ready?”
Alun nodded, feeling the butterflies in his stomach go wild. “As ready as I can be.” 
A knock thumped at the door, breaking the two apart. “Misser Alun!” A voice cried. “Ye up yet?” 
“Aye, aye!” Alun cried back, pulling out of the embrace. Under his breath: “Hold on, you specker...” 
Hazel giggled and shoved the zebra forward. “Don’t be mean to Rudy! He’s just looking out for you.” 
Alun slipped on his stove pipe hat that hung by the door — his favorite — and pulled its arched brim to cover his eyes. “Yeah, but when he interrupts you while you’re undressing your bedmate, you get a little irate.” 
She gave him a knowing smirk. “That was only once.” 
“It’s the principle, dar—”
“Misser Alun! ‘Urry up, the lads’re gettin’ antsy!” There was something else Rudy said, but that was probably the incoherent mumbling he was privy to. 
    “Yeah, okay!” Alun exclaimed as he opened the door. Before him, a massive hunk of muscle stood on coiled back legs, whose barrel puckered at the wool waistcoat stretched across it. Rudy was huge by gryphon standards. Easily seven feet tall, and built like a brick shit house. 
“Misser Alun,” he said, rolling through the words like a river babbles over stones. “Good mornin’ — Ye slept well, I ‘ope?” 
Before Alun replied, Hazel giggled again. “Don’t worry about that, Rudy. I made sure he slept like a baby.” 
He was happy his hat hid his ears, because they became blisteringly hot and red. “Y-yes, of course, Hazel,” Alun stammered. Rudy chortled, trying to hide his laugh behind a massive talon. 
“Oh, aye, I bet ‘e got a right solid rest, ‘Azel.” He looked back down to Alun. “The lads ‘ve grabbed the rest of the union on campus, and we’re waitin’ fer ya downstairs.” He backed up suddenly, allowing a group to clamber through with signs hanging off of them. They passed with a litany of apologies. “Well, most of ‘em.” 
“At least we have them.” Alun sighed. “Minus Bryanne, unfortunately.” 
“Speckin’ bastards.” Rudy tightened a talon into a fist. “Like she’d blow up a speckin’ noble’s house! Why, I oughta grab me a piece of the specker who took ‘er…” 
“That isn’t going to change anything, lads — especially with such naughty language, Rudy,” Hazel said, showing a playful disapproval. Rudy looked away bashfully. 
“What we need to worry about now is the good fight.” She gestured down the hall and towards the front of the dorm. “We’ll get Bryanne back, but now’s not the time to feel sorry about it.” 
The other two nodded. What’s the point of complaining about the past, when you can start working on a new future? 
“Then let’s get moving,” Alun said, moving down the hallway. It was abuzz with more of their fellow union members, who were pulling on their coats, which had a gold lotuses stitched into their shoulders. Many were still slapping paint on signs and posting their banners. They all had a passing nod to Alun and his partners. 
There was a charge in the air, that bound everyone together in a common cause. The feeling twinged every hair and shocked every feather. A smile tugged at every mouth — it was too easy to share one. It was as if a band had started to play a song and stoked a fire in their bellies. 
Alun had no doubts in his mind. He never even considered the idea that he could call it all off, and tell everyone to go home. What he did instead was to remind himself to remember this feeling for the rest of his life — The jubilancy, the solidarity and the hope! It was like a deep sip of melah, its intoxicating embrace filling his body with a certain giddiness. 
He wanted more. 
He turned to his muscular friend after squeezing through another group of students. “Has the marshal arrived, Rudy?” 
“Aye. Still frettin’ over ‘er speech, as always.” Rudy chortled again. “Funny ‘ow she gets so nervous, but once she starts speakin’, she’s all milk an’ ‘oney.” 
“Where is she now?” 
“Common room on the ground floor. The RAs convinced the Hall Director to let ‘er ‘ave some space.” He waved them towards the nearest stairwell and they descended. 
A swirling cacophony of smells saturated in the tight stairwell, all originating from the dormitory kitchens. The welcoming scents of cumin and clove dominated the senses, allowing them to accurately guess what their comrades were cooking. As they exited into the ground floor, they could see curries, rice and breads all on a single table closest to the kitchen. It was a good, hardy meal for a long day.
The ground floor was much the same as the third floor: A madhouse. It was full of zebs and gryphs of all kinds, readying themselves for the event. That same electricity upstairs seemed to have originated from down here, and everyone rushing upstairs were the conductors. He admired everyone’s energy, which beamed with determination and earnestness.  
Alun left Hazel and Rudy at the closed doors of the common room, which had a pleasant and respectful “Please Do Not disturb” sign hanging from a hook above the door’s handle.
He gave a little knock. A frustrated voice replied: “Yes! What is it?!” 
“It’s Alun, Beatrice! Can I come in?”
“Alun!” There was a short silence between her responses. “Of course you can. Let yourself in!”
Alun slid the door open to see the marshal placing an acoustic megaphone back on an end table. Her beak clamped on an elegant, eagle-feathered quill by the nib, fluttering about as she moved her head. Alun was thankful she hadn’t gotten any of the ink on her clothes, as that promenade dress looked exquisite on her. 
“How are you holding up?” He asked, trotting over to her. Her notes were scrawled all over with her signature chicken scratch, which always took him by surprise. Wasn’t she trying to get into medicine? He asked himself.
“Frazzled,” Beatrice replied, pushing a talon through her head feathers. “As always.” Light streaks of ink were littered across her talons, which seemed to have left marks across her head feathers. 
“Sounds like the status quo,” he noted, idly looking over her parchment. He pulled on his cravat slightly. The heat from the bodies in the lobby stacked on top of the active fireplace here in the common room. 
“Looks like you’ve changed a little about what you were preparing.” Her language was eloquent, but there were some parts that seemed... 
A slight scowl bounced across his brow as he read. “This is a little inflammatory, Beatrice. We’re trying to get everyone on our side, not possibly start a riot. The constabulary is on edge enough as is.”
“I thought it’d be poignant to include the student arrests,” Beatrice said, tapping a finger on a newspaper next to them. Its text was bold and big, detailing many names. “We maybe be protesting the class discrimination and the administration’s abuse of its funding, but I’ve seen signs demanding justice.” She grinned. “Six know I’d be shouting their names too.” 
“You and me both,” Alun agreed, keeping a diplomatic tone, despite his uncertainty. “I think the constabulary is getting desperate.” 
“They’re always desperate,” she replied. “Especially when a kind of political attack is involved.”
Alun grunted. “If it’s political.” 
“Is Rudy feeding you his conspiracy theory again?” 
“No, but he’s from Razorwing Province — Lord Razorwing was reported to be sympathetic to the plebs.” Alun trotted to the window facing the campus green and peeked around the curtains. There were even more students outside than there were inside, and were looking charged. 
“He has no idea why anyone would ever want to kill him,” he continued. “And to be honest, I’m inclined to agree. One less Veronian is nice on the Six’s globe, but he could’ve been a key ally if things go south.” 
He tried counting the amount of students out there, losing count somewhere after seventy-five. There were just so many. Their bodies obscured what was the white stone terrace, sitting and standing on just about everything from the retaining walls to the outside of the fountain. Their sound was buzzing through the windows at a low hum, slightly shaking the glass. Aside from their voices, the light beating of drums and baglama strumming joined the din.
He was surprised at the attendance — He was sure that there were more than students in the crowd. That zeb is looking mighty tall for a student...
“Is that Bohaarsa the Black?” Beatrice asked behind him, who was peering through over his head. After a closer inspection, he saw him, near the tall zebra. His black stripes were much wider than most, almost making him look like a pony. 
“Wow, it is!” He exclaimed, suddenly smiling. “And look! That’s Caris Silverfist!” He pressed a hoof against the window. “Did you see her mural on the old warehouse on Coriander Boulevarde?”
“What in Tartarus is going on?” Beatrice ran her talon through her headfeathers again, bewildered.
“They heard of us, that’s what!” Alun’s tail started to wag, and his ears tried to push themselves through his hat. “I can’t believe these people are actually noticing us.” He pursed his lips briefly, and looked back to Beatrice. “Do you think there are a few unionites around there?” 
Beatrice gave him a look of uncertainty and shrugged. “I have no idea — But whatever is going on, I intend for us to make a good example for them.” Her whole body shivered as energy ran down her, slightly puffing out the feathers on her chest. “Get everyone ready, vice marshal.” 
“Aye aye, ma’am!” Alun exclaimed, giving her a salute. He trotted over to the doors and slipped through, a goofy smile on his face. Hazel and Rudy were still on standby, chatting idly with a few other students. Rudy looked over first, returning his own grin.
Rudy tried to keep his voice down: “And ‘ere I thought it was only ‘Azel who could give ye that kinda smile!” 
Hazel punched Rudy’s shoulder, who responded with a pathetic whine. But she soon softened up, continuing: “What’s going on? Looks like Beatrice said the right thing to you.” 
Alun’s smile grew wider. “The marshal and I saw some pretty important figures in the crowd outside — Bohaarsa the Black for example — and we got inspired to get things rolling.” 
Rudy jutted his jaw forward — the closest thing a gryphon could do to pursing one’s lips — and his ears flipped erect. “What?!”
Around them, the students Hazel and Rudy were talking to were starting to listen in. 
Alun nodded. “Yeah. He’s not the only one. We’re seeing a few solid names out there. There might be a few industrial unionites out there, too. This is our chance to show them what we’re made of!” 
He climbed onto a table next to the door and cleared his throat. “Rudy, would you mind?” 
Without missing a beat, Rudy turned about. Before he began, those closest to him pressed their hooves and talons to their ears. 
“Oi, ye lot!” Rudy bellowed, his voice carrying well above the crowd, which quickly grew silent. “If ye don’t mind, we have an announcement!” Heads turned to Rudy, who then shifted to Alun after following the arm that pointed to him. 
“Good morning, everyone!” Alun exclaimed, who received a loud wave of salutation in return. “Thank you for coming out today. We’re happy to have so many supporters this cold morning!” A cheery din returned as the crowd gave a general “you’re welcome.”
“Now, if you would please, we would like to begin today’s activities, which will require everyone to be outside with us. If you have a friend with you, please stick together! If not, find someone! We will be coordinating as…” 



“...we are not cattle who graze upon these fertile fields of knowledge, but a united front of academics, destined to plow the prairies and share our fruits! We will not hoard, but we will share! We will not be chained — We will break through their shield wall, and hold their throne until they fall to our demands!”
There were 250 people — nearly a forth of the student population — cheering. 250 very rambunctious, energized, optimistic, and determined people. Flags, bisected with Confederate cobalt and a deep scarlet, fluttered in the wind. Signs of all kinds bobbed above heads, demanding justice, fair treatments and freedom for students. 
This crowd all stared straight at him and Beatrice, who, in a fashion which could only be described at witchcraft, spread her arms, evoking hoots and hollers from the huge crowd. 
Alun, trying to hide his nervous smirk, was checking the clipboard strapped to his arm. The pen in his mouth jotted down some notes about these numbers, creating small modifications to the formation the students would make at the center of campus. 
But, butterflies tingled in his stomach, reminding him to stay vigilant. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rudy and his small band roaming the edges of the protest, looking externally for signs of trouble. The administration had their eyes on them, and the occasional glimmer from a campus constable’s steel jingasa made them wary. 
Alun saw student eyes glaring at them from the windows of the other dorms. He couldn’t determine what the thoughts were behind those stares — Are they disdainful? Maybe they’re admiring us?
Rudy was as paranoid as he was strong, but at least he was mindful. His patrol was steady and tried to be as casual as possible during Beatrice’s speech. Luckily, she was articulate enough to keep their attention, which allowed Rudy’s patrol to do some scouting. Alun looked over Rudy’s notes again: 
Clear to the center, but flanked by campus constabulary. Minimal choke points, with possible alternative routes. Whispers of more comrades, but can’t rely on rumors. 
Alun nodded. Though still confident, this note still gave him pause. He looked over the determined strikers — They were strong in their conviction, and it was infectious. 
But he couldn’t let himself be caught up in it. In the back of his mind, the newspapers he read about past strikes lurked like a predator. He wasn’t ignorant of their outcomes — The Railway Strike of 890 killed 400 workers. The Kordis Street Massacre killed 500. The Battle of Kaire Mountain killed more. 
We don’t have spears and crossbows, just bodies! This feeling continued to hang around him, reminding him of the dangerous game he played. What’s worse is with every move, the rules can change.
A wave of applause pulled him from his thoughts, scrubbing them away with a whooping of cheers. Beatrice bowed, thanking the protesters for their attendance. She was beaming when she returned to Alun. 
“Sounds like we’re going to have a very good day, comrade,” she announced, couching her megaphone under her arm. Her coat flipped gently in the autumn breeze, with the sun bathing her in an aura of total confidence. Alun shared her feelings, but after reminding himself of the strikes of the past, he forced himself to rein it in. 
“I can share your confidence, Beatrice,” he replied, not completely lying, allowing himself a little smile. He looked ahead at the crowd, his ears burning as his nervousness did. 
He cursed himself for not being so jovial, and his sudden change of mood. He thought he had this! The only thing positive he could consider was that he had so many people here to help support the cause.
Damn it, Beatrice, Alun admonished, his heart beating out of his chest. If we make the wrong move, we’re going to hurt people! He shook his head while he looked over his notes one last time. How is everyone suddenly so confident, and I’m not?
With another look at the crowd, he nodded at Beatrice. “I think we can start moving,” he said, despite his apprehension. “Rudy’s scouting helped immensely. We should be safe — relatively.”
Beatrice’s ears flattened briefly, but popped right back up. “Very good, vice marshal. We’re going to prove to the administration just how serious we are. Let’s get this moving!”
Alun took the stage and beckoned for the attention of the crowd. “Good morning, everyone — We have marked a suitable path for the crowd to follow, and if you would please join our security detail, they will lead you to the square! The marshal will be at the front, and I will be here in the back. Please stick together, and do be safe!” He looked across the crowd to see Beatrice moving to the front. He waved to her, and after a moment, she gave a wave back. “Okay, everyone! Let’s go! Good luck!”
The crowd bobbed and fluctuated like some gelatinous beast, and while it was once silent and attentive, became rowdy, chatty and loud. It looked like it could split with just how malformed it became as it moved into position. Somehow, it was able to continue just fine, and reformed into a rough, circular shape. As Alun had said, he placed himself at the back, next to Rudy. Hazel was closer to the front. 
As they advanced, Rudy’s crew started passing around makeshift shields, made of whatever materials they could scrounge. They were all of a general design: Long, towering shields made of sturdy pieces of oak. They were all bisected in blue and red on their faces. The idea was to use those shields to not only protect the protesters, but to work in the second phase of the plan. Phase one — getting to the green — seemed to have been working.
Alun’s heart slammed against his chest, and it beat so hard that his whole body felt the pulse. It was electrifying to walk with such a huge contingent of people, and he wanted to be swallowed by the feeling. But with that electricity came the heightening of his senses, and his eyes darted like mad. His head craned to and fro, eager to call out what could be around the corner or in the next alleyway. 
“Alun, relax,” Rudy said offhandedly, tightening his shield straps around his arm. He flexed the talon in the straps, impressed with the simple creation. “The administration wouldn’t dare try an’ do somethin’ fishy.” 
Alun’s stomach grumbled. “Easy for you to say. They’re total minotaurs with how they act around us.” 
“I wouldn’t call ‘em unpredictable, but I’d certainly call ‘em cautious. But — by the dearth of Tartarus, this is lighter than I thought! — they sure know how t’ rile us up with their arrests.” Rudy let out a light growl. “Of all the backstabbin’ they’ve done, they really like doin’ stuff rotten.”
“And I expect something rotten here.” Alun’s eyes skimmed the edges of the protest, to the buildings that laid to their flanks. “I’m no strategist, but I keep thinking they’re going to pop out of the alleys and break us up.”
Rudy nodded as he did the same, scanning the opposite side. “And ye’d be right t’ be concerned. But we’ve got folks posted to warn us just in case. So far, they’re lettin’ us go... within reason.” 
“That’s the thing, Rudy. They’re letting us proceed. Don’t you think they’ll be waiting for us?”
    Rudy was silent for a few moments, his response only briefly being his fingers drumming on the top edge of his shield. Chants then filled the silence, cadenced with synchronous drum beats. Alun silently thanked them, as they would be able to start speaking a little louder to each other.
“They are,” Rudy continued. “We know the campus constabulary is on the edge, but they wouldn’t dare attack the students.” He turned his head Alun, leaning over with a hushed tone. “Ye don’t think we coulda overlooked anythin’, do ye?”
“I wish I could say you shouldn’t worry, but I can’t help but think about all of the terrible outcomes of protests past.” Alun’s belly quivered unabated. “I don’t want this to happen to us.”
“Please, Alun,” Rudy quietly begged. “Ye think I’m no’ thinkin’ about that? I’m spekkin’ terrified of it!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help but think of it.” Alun briefly pressed a hoof to the side of his head. “Selka’s sword! I wish we armed ourselves…”
“We do ‘ave these,” Rudy said, motioning to his own ceremonial sword. 
Alun’s fur stood on end, abhorred by the taboo. “You wouldn’t dare! We could get killed for pulling those out!” 
“Would ye rather be killed by the axe of the court, or while defending yer friends on the picket line?” Rudy jutted his a thumb onto his chest. “I, fer one, would prefer me friends before the jury.”
Alun was silent as he processed Rudy’s confession., his mind ponderous. Did he want to run away? Or did he want to march along with him? 
I signed up for this, he thought, looking at the advancing protesters. I mean, I want to be a good comrade, but I never considered risking my life until now. 
“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this, Rudy.” 
“Yeah, neither did I.” Rudy adjusted his baldric while craning his head, giving another sweep of the perimeter. “But I guess I ‘ad a ‘ard think about it when Bryanne was arrested. Me pa was almost arrested at a strike, ye know — I didn’t know what t’ do then. I guess when it actually happens, it does somethin’ to ya.” 
“Don’t do anything rash, today,” Alun pleaded. “Please.” 
“I won’t do anythin’ ‘less they do somethin’ first.” 
Alun’s ears flattened. That’s what I’m afraid of.
The two were silent, off to stew in their own thoughts. Alun didn’t want to dwell on the idea of being in a fight. He was just a skinny little zebra. He’d never been in or near a fight — and here he was, about to get in the thick of one! All the other zebs he knew were big, brawny sorts, able to pummel through just about anything. Why else were they Confederate cavalry, or accomplished steel workers? 
He felt himself falling into a pit of self-doubt. He was going to talk to Rudy again, but he was stopped. The crowd’s chants coalesced into a coherent string of unified calls. Within the formation, baglama strumming formed stanzas, creating a song. The beating of a drum joined this jingle-jangle of string.
Their singing and chanting echoed off the buildings and rang through the campus. Occasionally, windows opened up to look at them. Some cheered at their advance, and sometimes little red fabrics waved in the high winds. Other open windows assaulted the crowd, either with a verbal lashing, or to pelt whatever they could at them, leading to retaliation from the crowd. Alun flinched at every squeaking open window, afraid for what the outcome would be. His heart raced, and encouraged the crowd to rush ahead, aided by Rudy and his crew. 
They ended up at the campus green, a manicured, grassy place, lined with trees slowly losing their golden leaves. The main lecture halls hugged its borders, their imposing brick facades looming. The parade’s direction was to the center of the green: a large, carved stone platform that was a mirror of the terrace outside of Alun’s dormitory, but twice the size. Instead of a central fountain, there was a tall pillar that stood extravagant, bright and shiny like the great Spire that could be seen anywhere in the city. On top of it stood a bronze-cast likeness of Alana Razorwing, her fluttering cape frozen in time.
Across the way from the statue, in front of the administrative building, stood a solid formation of campus constabulary. Their only armor were their steel jingasas, which shined in fighting unison in defiance of the hodgepodge of students in front of them. 
Up the steps behind them were the university’s heads: The chancellor, with an acoustic megaphone at her side, the provost and several deans were right in behind her. Her gold headfeathers twinkled as brightly as the jingasas in front of her. It was like staring right into a formation of soldiers. 
All they needed now was a Confederate standard and a line of pikes, Alun thought.
The chancellor pulled the megaphone to her beak, and with a clear voice, cut through the din: “Students, please disperse. Your presence is unwarranted and disruptive to the campus. We do not appreciate your defiance.”
A cacophony of noise erupted, all varied ways to tell them no. Alun’s ears went hot when he heard some of the more colorful versions of their replies, stifling a giggle. 
He allowed himself to be swept up by the chorus, despite his feelings. He smirked as he thought about it — It was a hell of a way to keep everyone’s morale up! It even attracted more people to the protest, causing him to lose count of the numbers. Soon, the whole group was yelling so loudly that it was hard for him to even think.
If this wasn’t a combined front, I don’t know what is, he mused, finally feeling more at ease. Even if we don’t succeed, I’m going to remember it for a long time. 
This was phase one of the protest, and so far, it was going well. The protest was going to move from there and into the administration building, but it seemed like that was going to be a little more difficult than Alun imagined. 
As their formation started to solidify around the statue, Rudy parted from the group and started to meet up with his comrades. Alun joined him, keeping an eye on the administration building. His heart pounded so hard that it made his vision bounce, and his breath was accelerated. He couldn’t believe that he was here right now. This whole protest took months to plan, and he was afraid it would fall apart in an instant. But so far… so good. 
Everyone was staying in the designated area, but the constables were not. After a brief trumpet call, they slowly spreading their organized rectangle, growing from four ranks deep to two. The students matched to meet the push.
Alun had a small smirk as he nodded at the changing lines. “Solid plan getting your lads those formation books Rudy.”
“Woulda been better if we ‘ad some weapons.” Rudy shook his head with a sigh. “I mean, shite, we ‘ave some shields. We at least we got this goin’ on. But what th’ constables are doin’? That’s all they’ll prob’ly do. That’s what’s gonna protect us.” 
Alun’s brow scrunched together. Are you serious, Rudy? The constabulary is willing to attack a worker, why not a student?
“Students!” The chancellor exclaimed. “This demonstration is entirely unnecessary. You will disperse, or else consequences will be incurred. We don’t want to affect your education, please understand!”
As she yelled that, the constabulary created a solid line established in front of the somewhat organized students, advancing two paces at a time. Rudy’s crew were ready, quickly forming at the sound of a shrill, tin whistle. They quickly coalesced at the front with a shieldwall, falling into formation from both sides of the student group. Their goal was to hold down the constables and to force a path through them to funnel students into the administration building to occupy it. With an occupation, they can force the university to acquiesce to their demands. It was the hope, anyway.
Flying over them would’ve been foolhardy, considering they’d be beaten and arrested as they landed one-by-one. Not to mention it would provoke the constables further than they already were. And this would allow the zebra to push through.
“It’s time fer a party!” Rudy shouted, checking his gear one last time. Alun’s whole body shivered, still not believing it was happening. “Wish me luck, Alun — I’ll see ye on the other side.”
“I —” He cleared his throat and steeled himself “— I’ll see you inside, Rudy. Best of luck.” 
Rudy launched himself into the air with a mighty beat of his wings, and gracefully joined the shield wall, his boisterous, commanding voice clear among the shouts of the protest. 
Alun’s heart went into overdrive, but he tried to power through it. Now he had to rush to the front with them and stand with Beatrice, and more importantly, with Hazel. He squeezed through the crowd, while his mind rushed through a flurry of emotions, all pulsing through at a million miles an hour. He was scared, but he was feeling bold, maybe even brave? 
Another shiver sped through him. The shouting at the front was getting rowdier, and the exchanges were becoming fierce. The students’ colorful language always broke through the din, and he could barely hear the constables. But between each verbal bout, the heavy crack of shields-on-shields pierced the shouts, raising his blood pressure a few more beats. The closer he got to the line, the louder it was. 
“Hazel!” He cried, pushing past another group of students. He could see her on the front edge of the protest, chanting with the best of them. He could see her beautiful, woolen shawl a thousand yards away and he’d still recognize it. 
“Hazel!” He yelled again, finally getting closer. “Hazel! Do you hear me?” 
She turned about to the last call, seeing him slide through another group of people. She reached down and gave him a nice, warm hug, instinctively pulling her shawl around his head. Almost immediately, Alun’s woes eased as he felt her against his body. Though his body surged with the racing heartbeat pumping through him, he was able to ignore it just by her presence alone. 
“Alun,” she cooed. She completely shifted her attention to him, making Alun smile wide. “Are you okay? Everything alright?”
“Everything is fine,” Alun said. “All we need to do is break through the shields, and we’re home free. How is it up here?”
She hesitated to respond, only due to the fact that everyone around them was shouting their ears off. Hazel gave him a nervous smile, adding, “I think it’s quite enthusiastic up here — Beatrice just advanced, closer to the shield line. She wants to get closer to the action.” 
He pulled back his neck, surprised. “Six above! We need to be up there with her. She’s going to need some support!” 
Hazel placed a talon on the side of his neck, rubbing between it and the shoulder. “You need to calm her down,” she asked, putting a sight grip onto Alun’s neck. “I don’t know if it’s because of the mood of the crowd, but she’s getting… excited.” 
Alun cocked his head while a scowl crawled across his brow. “I don’t like the sound of that. Let’s go.” Without hesitation, they ran to the front.
There was an incredible wave of voices that echoed through the whole square, which almost drowned out Alun’s thoughts. The protesters were unbelievably loud. He had never heard such a cacophony of noise in his life. Drums and baglamas played a barely organized symphony, student voices shouted with incredible power, and the thunderclaps of the shields nearly scrambled his brain with incredibly harsh shockwaves. But deep in the squall, Alun could hear Beatrice’s sharp voice. 
It was not good. 
“Break ‘em, lads!” She shouted. “Break ‘em hard and break ‘em fast!” As he approached her, a frenzy had taken her over. Her face was angry and passionate, almost stuck in a permanent scowl between yells of vitriol. Her feathers formed a grand plume, giving her a figure a fierce outline, akin to the gryphon warriors of the old republic. 
Her chanting was infectious. People around her echoed, which was remarkable they could even hear above the noise. But the chant was spreading, slowly replacing the constructive chants from earlier.
 The shields were so amazingly loud every time they came in for another push. Grunts and yells were intensified here at the front, and he could hear the protestors and the constabulary exchanging pithy insults. Suddenly, Alun’s entire coat stood on end. 
“Beatrice!” He called out. She was distracted, focused on the melee. As he got closer to her, he could see a snapped piece of brick poking out between the gaps in her fist. 
He knew her fiery speech would be too much. He didn’t think he’d ever think she’d consider violence, but here she was, ready to start a fight. His whole body boiled as he couldn’t keep from staring at the brick, disbelieving she’d be so willing to tip the whole strike for this one little flash of violence.
Alun moved closer, almost touching her. “Beatrice, what in the Six are you yelling about!” 
“C’mon, Alun!” She barked. “It’s time to kick this strike into full steam!” 
“Full steam? We’re already there! One more kick and we’ll break the engine!”
Her craze was not so easily broken. She looked like she was ready to start just about anything. “Look, Alun!” She pointed with the talon holding the brick. “Look! They’re so weak now, they just need the last little blow, and they’ll completely break!”
“What? No! No! You’re wrong!” His body tensed as the memories of the past flashed through his mind. “How do you even know that?”
Without hesitation, she threw the brick. The world seemed to slow as Alun’s eyes tracked its arc, flying unimpeded above the student shield wall and then straight into the unshielded face of a campus constable. His beak cracked and a line of blood streaked in the air as he fell in a fit of pain, his shield covering the outcome as he keeled over. The whole front of the line recoiled in a bestial shout of victory.

As the constable was being pulled away, more rocks and debris were thrown, pelting the constable line. “Break!” Was all they shouted now. “Break! Break! Break!” 
Alun’s heart pounded as all of his fears manifested to the fore. Beatrice was unphased as she picked up another brick. 
“You specking idiot!” Alun yelled. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re going to get someone hurt — no, killed!” 
Beatrice was about to speak again but was interrupted by another trumpet call, a code of brassy thurps easy to hear over the agitated students. In unison, the constables reached across their baldrics and drew basket-hilted rattan batons, and advanced one step at a time, pushing back the student shield wall. The student wall intensified its fight, and pushed even harder. Rudy’s booming voice resonated across the line, telling them to keep strong. The tin whistle tweeted again, ordering the students to double their efforts. Joining the crack of shields was the disjointed whack of rattan. The students were losing.
Beatrice was dumbstruck, realization of a mistake plastered across her face. Alun, however, was furious, and took all he could to keep from pouncing on his friend. “Look at this, you fool! This is your fault! You got so pissy and now this is going to get worse!” 
“We need to get inside the admin building!” Beatrice argued weakly. “We need to occupy it!” 
Alun shook his head and easily pulled her acoustic megaphone from under her arm, sliding its leather strap over his head. “We can’t do that now, marshal. We’re not armed, and you decided to poke a dragon without a spear!” He turned to Hazel. “I need you to get Rudy to pull back and defend our comrades. We’re going to retreat back to the dormitories. Go, Hazel!” 
“Be safe, Alun,” she said, tightening her shawl around her.
He furiously shooed her with a forehoof. “Don’t worry about me, go!” 
As she skirted away, he ran back to the center dais where the column was, clambering over the railing to get above the crowd. Leaning against the marble, he cupped the megaphone between his forehooves and shouted. “Comrades!” He yelled as loud as he could. “Comrades, please listen! I am Vice Marshal Alun! The front has been compromised! We must make a retreat back to the dormitories!”
Before any reaction could happen from him, a sudden roar of anger echoed out from the front, taking his attention. A terrible yell echoed through his ears, in the midst of a terrible melee at the front. His eyes widened as he saw the sudden glint of steel emerge from a one of the students holding a shield. Alun froze, feeling as if the Six themselves grabbed him and forced him to stay. It was as if the entirety of the existence of light shone just for him to see the unsheathed saber twinkle with an unholy shine.

The worst, he knew, was just about to start.