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// 2. Arrival in Thymíaustadt 
// Story: Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof 
// by Staleprate 
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Thymíaustadt was not quite the city it once was. Since the Empire conquered these lands, it was almost unrecognizable from the days it had been under Minotaur rule. The buildings had been redone, Griffons lived there, and its original inhabitants had been barred entry from the city. Indeed, in spite of the fact that the griffon invaders were vastly outnumbered by the minotaur natives, the word of the griffon was law.

Though the Asterionese archipelago was technically under Imperial rule via a local minotaur king, this walled city was the Kaiser’s bastion in Southern Griffonia, as well as the home port of the Southern Fleet.

As their transport slowly came into port, Fliedgling noted one ship that stood out from the rest, outlined by the moonlight. It was far larger and carried heavier armament than any of the cruisers, yet not quite as big or armored as a battleship. From gossip that he had heard around the port he determined that the boat in question must have been the Austernfischer. The Austernfischer was a battlecruiser, one of the first of its kind. Designed with the purpose of chasing down lesser ships, while outmaneuvering any that might pose a fight, the admiralty was convinced that it would play a pivotal role in future naval doctrine. Fleidgling was certain they were raring to see it in combat.

Fleidgling noticed he wasn’t the only one looking out. There was a sailor beside him on deck, admiring the city’s seaside. “Pardon me, but is that the battlecruiser i've been hearing so much about?” Fleidgling asked, looking towards the vessel.

“Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif. It is the flagship Austernfischer. It is a new design, there is even electricity onboard,” the sailor replied, confirming Fleidgling’s suspicions. “It was launched several months ago. The Countess Sumpfkiel was in attendance.”

“Sumpfkiel herself? But I thought she wanted to open peaceful dialogue with the Minotaurs?” Fleidgling was a little surprised to hear her show support for increased military presence. One of her main goals since coming into power was to end the conflict between the resentful minotaurs and griffons, a status quo that had been present for centuries.

The sailor merely looked at Fleidgling and shrugged. “The hull was laid down a little over a year ago. Herr Hauptgreif will recall the Count Sumpfkiel was alive then. This has long been planned, and a portion of the cost borne by the Admiralty.”

“Hmm,” Fleidgling grunted with indifference and looked out to the fleet once more. Without Imperial support, he doubted that the griffons would be able to maintain their clawed grasp over these hostile lands for long. But his thoughts were interrupted by the loud wail of the ship's horn. “Ah, we’re finally docking! Oh, a nice rest from all this is just what I need,” 

Fleidgling made his way back to the bunks, where he found Guntram marching circles around the sack of funds, kept in one corner. “Korporal!” he shouted. In one quick movement, Guntram halted, unshouldered his musket, and aimed directly at Fleidgling. “Aah! Guntram, put that down!” Fleidgling ducked for cover around the other side of the hatchway.

“Hauptgreif, is that you?” Guntram asked, still pointing his musket towards the entrance, slowly lowering it.

“Yes, of course it’s me!” Fleidgling angrily cursed him from where he cowered. He entered again once he heard Guntram release a sigh. “Forgive me, mein Herr, I thought somebody was trying to steal the leftover funds,” Guntram explained, looking around the room warily. “So when I-”

“Nevermind that!” Fleidgling interrupted, looking Guntram directly in the eyes. “Now, we are about to offboard. You are going to carry those funds with me to command, where we will fill out our reports, and meet back in three days’ time. Is that understood?” Fliedgling addressed him sternly, but maintained a level voice.

“Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif!” Guntram saluted and picked up the bag in his beak. Once Guntram was ready, Fleidgling led him off to the deck, making sure he maintained good form.

By the time they reached the deck, the gangways had just been laid out. They technically had the ability to simply fly off, but to do so would have been a severe breach of protocol. Just as they began their descent, another officer flanked by several soldiers stopped them.

“Halt! You are with the Asterion Garrison?” The officer asked. He was a shorter and relatively thinner griffon. The outline formed by his feathers seemed a little unkempt. In the darkness, Fleidgling couldn’t make out his insignia or assignment.

“Yes, with Generaloberst Vögel’s group, the Eighth Regiment. Hauptgreif Germund Fleidgling and Korporal Guntram Arend,” Fleidgling replied, annoyed that he would have to wait a little longer before being dismissed. 

“And just who might you be?” Fliedgling could just make out a curve forming at the corners of the officer’s cheeks, which made him a little anxious. “Well?” He chuckled and turned to Guntram, hoping for some encouragement, but was met with the usual stoic look he maintained around other soldiers.

“I am Major Grause, sent by command to inform you that you will not be staying in Thymíaustadt.” Grause observed with some curiosity as the color in Fliedgling’s plumage somehow faded, but continued. “Divisional headquarters has seen it fit for you to resume your rotation around the islands, effective immediately. You will be confined to troop quarters onboard until the transport is of sufficient distance from port.”

“But surely-” Fleidgling started.

“Silence!” Grause shouted before he had a chance to say more. “You will do exactly as ordered.”

“Y-yes, H-h-herr-r Major.” He was momentarily taken aback at this outburst, grasping the railing for support.

“You are to remain on this transport for the next two hours, until it departs. During that time, you are not to make any contact with griffons on the docks, civilian or military. A squadron from the Southern Fleet will accompany you on your voyage, Once in Thebos, you will perform your duties as normal, until further orders are received.” Grause stated the rest of Fleidgling’s orders without missing a beat.

“Aha!” Fleidgling began. “Herr Major, I must inform you, I cannot carry out my duties without a new supply of Idols. I am paymaster after all,” he nervously chortled, gesturing to the empty bag Guntram held and his own insignia. “I’m afraid you will simply have to let me through and notify command that this cannot go ahead,” he stated, as he began tugging at Guntram to walk forward with him. Guntram, for his part, merely looked away.

“Not to worry, Hauptgreif, we have your Idols right here.” Grause turned to one of the soldiers. “Unteroffizier, the Idols, please.” 

The soldier grabbed a sack resting on the dockside, extending it towards an incredulous Fleidgling. He could do nothing but accept. In return, the soldier took the empty sack from Guntram.

“B-but, uh, isn’t this bag a little too light to have the proper amount?” Fleidgling asked, weighing it in his talons.

“I am certain you will find the amount to be more than adequate for your revised duties. Oh, and you will be needing this too. This should supplement your revolver and sword quite nicely,” he said with a pleasant tone in his voice, presenting a musket before Fleidgling. It was even more worn than the one Guntram used.

“Now, Hauptgreif Fleidgling, if there is nothing else, I believe that will be all. Good evening,” Grause proclaimed with no small amount of smugness in his voice. He turned around and disembarked.

“Yes. Good Evening, Herr Major.” Fleidgling gave a half-hearted salute. Major Grause returned it without even looking, as he walked away. 

“Well Guntram,” he began, handing over the bag of Idols as he prepared to re-embark. “There goes our time off. A whole evening, to be spent stuck in our quarters” Fleidgling looked down at his musket. “But there’s something else I don’t like about this. There simply can’t be enough Idols in that bag to last more than a few postings.”

“I estimate no more than ten thousand Idols.” Guntram shook the bag, and sighed. “Unfortunately, Herr Hauptgreif, it seems not all the officers share the same foresight you do. I am certain that if you were in command, things would be done the right way down here. But regrettably, we can only follow orders.”

Before they moved into their quarters, Fleidgling gave a last, forlorn look towards Thymíaustadt;  among the lights of the city and the ships of the Southern Fleet preparing for the voyage, he saw the major talking over some arrangements with a crewgriff. Fleidgling followed a marching Guntram into their quarters. Though he was in good form as usual, Guntram called out no cadence this time.