Under her shady oak high above the sea, a young gryphon peered down to the jubilance unfolding in her beautiful seaside town. Gryphons and zebras were laughing and playing, enjoying the beautiful day. The smells of sizzling meat wafted up the hill. Booths and stalls lined the sandstone streets, all adorned a striking blue-and-white design.
There was so much she could see from here: The dry docks, full of the skeletons of ships. The steel mill, with it’s mighty smokestacks reaching for the sky. All the way down, the red tile roofs glowed warm, meeting up with the pristine emerald-blue south sea. Interspersed between these roofs floated an army of blue balloons, which bounced gently in the sea breeze. It, like many of the other fluttering flags in town, had a distinct silhouette of a mighty looking mace.
No one stayed home today — how could they? The sky was beautiful and the sun was warm. It was a perfect day for a holiday. Baldric's Day.
The eagless was pulled from her gazing by a talon placed on her shoulder. With a cute little eep! her tail curled around a leg. She relaxed quickly after realizing it was the gentle touch of her new boss.
“Madam mayor,” the eagless quickly apologized, hastily forcing herself onto four limbs. She fumbled with her new copper-hilt longsword. It's length was a little different from her old dirk.
She continued: “Forgive me, missus Whitetalon — I was staring a little more than I should have!”
Whitetalon chuckled, the light of the sun bringing a twinkle to her scarlet pupils. “It’s quite alright, Alya,” she replied, her raspy voice steeped in wisdom. “Talon’s Reach this time of year is a beautiful sight.”
Alya smiled back, her ears perking back up. “Of course, madam mayor! It's... ah!" She ran a talon through her black head feathers, befuddled. She flipped through a few pages of her clipboard. "I can't get distracted again — We have to get ready for your speech!”
“Aye, you're right." Whitetalon gave a beckoning gesture with a wing. "Come, we’d best not keep our friends waiting.” The mayor gripped her longsword by its golden hilt, and performed a swift about-face. She took a few steps out from the cooling shade and into the bright sunlight bearing down around them. Alya padded along, pressing the clipboard to her breast.
The terrace atop the hill was bustling with many of the well-to-do citizens of Talon’s Reach. The common colors of blue hung from capes and coats of all kinds, fluttering in the breeze. As the mayor approached, many fell to all fours, bowing their heads in reverence. Whitetalon returned a bow each time.
She made frequent stops to the silent annoyance of Alya. It felt like hundreds of gryphs approached the elderly mayor, barraging her with mountains of praise. She was honored to be in the mayor's presence — But, ugh! This sun is so hot! The color of her feathers didn't help her much, either. Respectfully, she prodded Whitetalon along, constantly reminding her of the speech.
They descended the hill to Alya's relief, falling under the shade of the overlapping overhangs of the stucco buildings. More blue balloons and buntings were down here, burying the town. Again, they were constantly barraged by the praise of the citizenry to the mighty mayor of Talon’s Reach.
It's astonishing that so many love mayor Whitetalon so much. She mused.
“Madam mayor,” Alya started. “We must get down to the town plaza! There's only so much time! I don't want to be the assistant known for your tardiness!”
Whitetalon laughed, which was echoed by the group Alya interrupted. "Oh, miss Turig! I'm sorry that I'm taking so long, I just have so much to say to our constituents!"
Alya tried to keep her frustration in check, tightening her jaw momentarily. "I'm sorry, madam mayor, I just —"
Whitetalon raised a gentle talon. "Don't worry, Alya. You're right, you're right — How about you give me... oh, fifteen minutes? Not a minute more. Then you'll see me."
Alya smiled wide, grateful for the compromise. “Of course, fifteen minutes! I can’t wait for your speech, madam mayor.” She scuttled away, her tail wagging with anticipation. She was enamored by the swath of color as she walked down, her eyes beginning to ignore the soft tans that laid beneath the bright blue decorations.
But her adoration was quickly broken as she bumped into a gruff looking zebra, accompanied by more of his brothers. Her eyes grew wide, these zebs were huge, hulking lads, and though were much shorter than she, could break her with a sneeze.
“Oy, lass! Ye better watch yourself!" He called with a smile. Alya slowly eased herself as his soft demeanor. But his eyes widened as he looked to her weapon. "Oh, miss! I apologize — Ye're the mayor's newest assistant, yeah?" He gave her a quick bow, and all of the beads woven into his mane chattered together.
“I am,” she replied happily.
Smiling, the zebra continued, “Excellent. We’d normally bring this to her on any other day, but because of such an... auspicious occasion, us lads at the mill wanted to give her this gift.” A rather scrawny looking zebra approached her with a beautifully crafted spear. A gold-trimmed blue bow hugged the joint connecting the shaft and the head. It was intricately engraved with many symbols of a blending of zebra and gryphon iconography; the most prominent being a sword, an egg, a scroll, an eagle’s head, an owl and a shield. Symbols of the Six, she recognized. They were the patron gods and virtues of the gryphon people.
“A thank you from the Metal Shaper's Union for her support in rebuilding the mill yard after the fire.” Alya took the spear gingerly, feeling an energy surge through her. She felt immense pride knowing the mayor was the recipient of this immaculate piece of art.
“I am honored to represent you in relaying this gift, gentletiercels — Er, I mean, gentlecolts.” She nervously smiled after her correction. The zebra payed no mind, sharing a round of laughter. “However, I’m sure the mayor thanks you even more for your community service. Instead of giving it to me, why not give it to her yourselves?” The zebra looked at each other — The thought hadn't crossed their minds.
“We thought she'd be busy, miss,” the leader replied.
Alya held up a talon as if to calm their minds. “Nonsense! A small deviation to honor you wouldn't phase her in the slightest."
The entire group beamed widely, looking to each other as if they were about to receive sweet morsels from their mothers. “Ye bet yer head feathers, miss,” the leader said as the group started to chatter with excitement. “I think I speak for the lads 'ere when I say we accept yer offer.”
“Perfect,” the assistant said. She flipped through her clipboard and drew few a notes with the charcoal pen hanging from it. “I can slip you in right before her speech, is that fine?”
“Yer a saint, miss.”
Alya smiled. “No, just a simple organizer.”
“Just as humble as the mayor, ain’t she, boys?” The head zebra asked his colleagues, causing their bodies to rear back in laughter. Alya laughed along with them, still warm in the cheeks. “Ye have a happy Baldric’s Day, miss. Don’t go pokin' anyone’s eyes out with that, ya hear?”
The group left with the spear with a pep in their step, with mutterings about celebratory drinks later. Alya, however, continued down, halfway to her destination. By this point, her mouth started to water. Her sense of smell grew hypersensitive as the succulent scents of spiced chicken and pepper vegetables enveloped her in a sultry embrace. Looking about, she could see steam rising from under booths surrounded by ravenous patrons, squabbling their demands and waving shining coins. She squeezed out a satisfied moan while she passed a chokkho stand.
Alya took a closer look at the stand. The cook had his back to her, tending to one of the many pots and pans that went into the chokkho creation. A display case next to the kitchen showed more than what was cooking, Squid, fruits, vegetables, all skewered by sticks. She smirked while looking around the stall, realizing that everything was punctured by them. The tips of these makeshift spears were topped with what looked like a small mace head.
“You like it, eyas?” The boisterous looking cook asked, his talons calmly resting on his bulbous potbelly.
She nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s an amazing selection you have here.”
The cook's laugh was as bouncy as his massive gut. “Of course it is! I have the finest morsels here, enough to feed five of Baldric’s armies!”
“Five? He only had one to fight the forces of Rocktalon Hold.”
The cook flashed an arrogant smile. “Were I with Baldric those years ago, my food would have attracted more than his twelve thousand. Maybe eighty!”
"Then, the great victory over the Hold would not have been so legendary!”
“True.” The cook rubbed the underside of his beak in thought. “And I wouldn’t have so much of a profit today.”
Alya took one of his offerings in her talon and scrutinized it. “Yes, it’s very well looking — though, what is it about the sticks? Why the sticks?”
“Everything’s better with a stick through 'em. Roasted daikon, pork, kahakho, broccoli. The future of food, I tell you!”
Alya giggled. “I don’t see much of a point with it, though.”
“Ah! The point — " He speared a vegetable with a nearby stick "— is it's easy to serve, you see.”
“Even Baldric’s favored meal of chokkho?” Alya challenged. The cook, as if on cue, looked to his left, and from behind the shelf unveiled a whole chicken, run through with a stake the circumference of a sword’s hilt. It was steaming heavily, just recently recovered from an unseen oven.
“Comes with a side of your choice,” he advertised, nonchalantly pulling up a cob of corn and a whole potato with the opposite talon, also skewered.
“Erm, no thank you,” she said, taking her leave.
Though the smells of the this area of the town had were heavenly, she needed to continue. Closer to the center of town laid a plethora of street performances and stage shows. As she passed, a certain street performer caught her eye. He was dressed as Baldric — A spitting image of the tiercel. His brigandine's external cloth was clean, and its copper rivets shined like the sun. The splinted armor on his extremities were just as beautiful, the leather and steel polished with no flaw. Alya was impressed — he even had the blue tabard and flanged mace faithfully recreated.
“...And thus, did I step away from the threats of Garron Rocktalon?” The Baldric impersonator asked his crowd, a heroic aura hugging his boisterous tone.
“No!” Was the squeaky reply, all from the gathered fledglings.
“No, I did not! And upon the mount above us, I looked to my soldiers, ragged from the days of fighting. I knew they wanted it: Freedom! To join our brothers in the west, and bring together a nation of democracy! It was he, Garron Rocktalon, who stood in the way of freedom!" On cue, a stage attendant worked the gears of a shade, darkening the stage.
The impersonator crouched low, as if ready to draw his weapon, and crept over the crowd. “The day was stormy. The day was windy!" Another attendant waved a giant, unfolded fan. "And yet, we took the fiend Rocktalon, and won against the sixty thousand horde. His head is what we wanted, and his head is what we got!” From a wicker basket at his paws, the faux Baldric lifted a droopy and melted wax head, colored blood red at its "neck." The children gasped with surprise. Behind, Alya saw the parents equally impressed.
“I gave this head to the Lords upon Mount Veron,” Baldric continued, unfurling his wings. “I helped bring peace and prosperity, culminating in the mighty Confederacy... but, I don’t need to tell you the rest!” Alya was impressed, and clapped along with the crowd — It was an amusing performance.
From there, the Veronian Documents were signed, and the nation was born, she recalled, returning back to her duties. I love that story!
The plaza revealed itself to her in grand splendor. Higher up the hill, it wasn't hard to notice how busy it was down here, but it was a lot more than she realized. Blues and whites hung from every and all places they could, from gutters to doorways, from window sills to banisters. The Confederate standard was replaced with Baldric's battle flag on every flagpole. Flags even fluttered from telegraph lines. One would be excused to think that's all the colors the town had.
Below these decorations sat a cacophony of creatures. Every restaurant was packed to the brim, and the wine flowed from a thousand glasses. Fledglings ran with streamers from their talons, and little zebra foals galloped along, their barding just as fantastic.
Hundreds of beings danced to an orchestra of recorders, drums and baglamas. She recognized the tune: The Leaping Lumberpony. It was originally a pony song but became a gryphon dance, and it was popular by all walks of life. The song was upbeat and incredibly infectious, making even the humble assistant hum along with the cadence of the lighthearted ditty. Alya found it fitting for the celebrated tiercel.
Once the leader of a lumber guild, turned general. Ah! The Resurgance! What an amazing time!
After squeezing through an uncountable number of people, she gathered her bearings by keeping the central clock tower in view. It was an obelisk of stone and oak, and the tallest structure in town. It was adorned with carvings that were the labor of true love. Baldric, his first command, his story of the twelve thousand, his great career in state, all of it was carved in painstaking detail across every surface. The pièce de résistance was the gold inlaid carving of Baldric over the door of the grand pendulum, standing in a beautiful, flowing robe, standing defiant against the world he once lived in.
Under it, on the base of the tower, had text on a silver plaque:
Baldric Logger:
Mighty as the stone
Grand as the ocean
Strong as the Confederacy
She had heard that back in the capital, Stoneanchor, there was a statue captured the strong and robust Baldric somewhere near the capitol building. She had hoped to see it one day, and see the physical presence instead of the prints of his official portraits. It was lifelike, apparently, and bigger than the ones in Talon's Reach. Oh well, she resigned. Another day, perhaps.
She looked up to the clock face, its golden hands signifying the approaching hour. She said fifteen minutes...
Wanting to stay punctual herself, she took the the sky, pushing herself from the ground with her mighty, black wings. She landed on an expertly crafted stage that situated itself in front of the town hall, a building that was just shorter than the clock tower. Its tall pillars loomed over her, creating an imposing facade. Its brickwork was sleek and terraced, regal stucco columns seemingly holding each floor above one another, placed between sets of bow windows. It was the pinnacle of modern design.
On the wooden platform was a simple podium and speaking trumpet near the edge, and a staircase leading down to the entrance of town hall. The whole area was positioned below the mayor’s office, that if she wanted to make a stylized appearance, she could open her window and descend to the platform. Alya was secretly hoping she'd do that this year.
She approached the podium and looked over the plaza. With her clipboard in hand, she marked off items with the charcoal pen. From what she’d seen so far, this Baldric’s Day celebration couldn’t have gone smoother. The decor was masterfully constructed, and the events were flawless. Were it up to her, the day would conclude on these notes, but she knew that the town came for more than celebration: They wanted to see their beloved mayor.
A perfect end to a perfect day.
Moments later, the clock struck 3 o'clock, its bells booming above the din. The dancing music stopped, and once the bells finished their ringing, began a new triumphant tune. The entirety of the festival slowly made its way into the plaza, filling it to the brim with people dressed in blue and white. It was as if a great river flowed down a wide-sloped mountain.
A shiver eased its way down the length of her spine as she realized how much of a crowd gathered. She had seen the census data many times before, but to see nearly the entire population in one place was incredibly jaw dropping. Clenching her clipboard tightly, she was thankful she was not the mayor.
Cheers erupted ahead, pulling her from her stupor. From the north, the spread wings of Whitetalon flapped gracefully, carrying her to Alya. She landed next to the assistant with a gentle thump, with more cheers clamoring from the crowd. If Alya didn’t feel small before, it was at this moment that she did.
“Alya, dear. I hope you've kept everything together?” Whitetalon's chipper attitude was infectious, causing Alya to grow a goofy grin.
“Oh! Well, uh, as best as I can, madam mayor...” Alya stammered, looking to the audience. She recalled being one of the crowd members many times before she was picked as the mayor’s assistant. The mayor was one of the finest gryphons to grace the world, in her opinion. With what she did for the town, it was worth a cheer. However, it’s one thing to be with the middle of the jubilation, but to be in front of it...
It’s like being in the middle of a typhoon, she thought.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Whitetalon assured, placing a soft talon on her shoulder again. “I know it’s much, but you get used to it.”
“I don’t think I ever will, madam mayor.”
"You're not the first one to say that." She winked and flashed a smile. Alya's tail started to wag, suddenly feeling strong. Whitetalon continued: "Could you give me a few more minutes? I forgot my notes.” Widening her eyes, Alya flipped through her clipboard frantically, hoping to find a copy.
Her shoulder was then patted by the mayor's talon. “Don’t worry about it — My office is just upstairs, remember?”
“Oh." Alya looked up. “Right.”
“Don’t have them storm the place, now!” Whitetalon walked down the side of the platform and down into the town hall. She waved back to Alya, who returned it.
Looking ahead, the great sea of people intensified, which grew another tributary from the west boulevard. Gryphons and — Oh my goodness, is that a pegasus? — started to crowd the red rooftops. As the sun shone above, a warm glow bathed the crowd, and with it, signaled the location of the union workers with the glistening of the polished spear. She could see the head zebra looking at her with a quizzical look, raising a brow as if asking for permission. She beckoned them with a free talon and a smile.
The group clamored up the wooden stairwell in a tidy line, forming a small cluster to the left of the young eagless. The lead zebra puffed his chest out, very proud of this moment, as no doubt everyone else was. The spear’s majesty was compounded by its shining spearhead.
Approaching the group, she asked, “Are you ready?”
The leader nodded, his beads bouncing. “Aye. All we need is the mayor, and we’re good to go!”
Alya couldn’t agree more. She knew the people would be wanting to see their wonderful leader, but if she was any later, Alya feared the crowd would become restless. She looked behind to the podium and gulped. I suppose I can calm them some way...
Alya took careful steps to the podium and placed her clipboard down where one’s papers would go. She clenched the sides of the stand tightly, feeling her nails dig into the wood. She adjusted the speaking trumpet to her height and placed it in front of her beak. She took a deep breath, and then spoke — but it came out as a barely audible squeak. She looked down, seeing a few gryphons raise a talon to their ears. She took another breath, and channeled the presence of Mayor Whitetalon.
“Good afternoon eaglesses and tiercels! Welcome to another beautiful Baldric’s Day, and the three hundredth anniversary of the founding of the great Gryphon Confederacy!” The crowd cheered as she was tempted to wipe away the sweat forming beneath her head feathers. This was probably the biggest crowd she'd ever seen — She couldn't count them directly, but it was bigger than the census data suggested. The town normally got a big influx of tourists during the celebration, but this was so much more than anticipated.
She puffed out her cheeks, taking it in. She tapped her fingers on the podium, focusing herself.
“I must apologize for the tardiness of the mayor, but she needed to grab a few things before we started.” A wave of laughter washed over the nervous assistant. She smiled nervously, her breathing starting to ease with the crowd's amiability.
“However,” she continued, gesturing to the zebra behind her, “before she begins her speech, we have a very special gift for our mayor. These are the hard workers of MSU 357, thanking her for her gracious donation to the repair of the steel mill!” The gathering applauded. “But, without further delay, we’ll be back very soon. Again, apologies for the delay!”
Alya turned upwards to the mayor’s office. Though it was a casual glance, she saw movement that was much more active than what she’d normally think would be for the mayor. She's looking for her notes with some vigor, she thought.
As soon as she finished that thought, it was if the entire world slowed down. Suddenly, the shadowy silhouette of the mayor burst through the unopened window, blasting glass in her wake. The window's multicolored stained glass glowed in an unholy sheen, glimmering its shades from the blood that followed in the mayor's fall. She couldn’t see how, nor could she see why, but the mayor was falling.
Alya couldn’t do a thing but watch as her beloved mayor, paragon of good, cascade downwards to the earth. With a sickening crunch, the mayor bounced off the back of the stage head first, gruesomely twisting in the air and landing square in front of Alya. Her breathing quickened and her gaze fogged as tears began to well around her eyes. Her heartbeat lurched and raced, matching the manic galloping that followed her. The crowd was up in arms, their collective wail amplified within the plaza, screeching through Alya's skull.
She approached Whitetalon, the union quickly circling her. The rest of the crowd stormed up the sides of the stage, their emotions pouring a flood. She kneeled, placing a shaking talon on the mangled body of the mayor. As she placed a finger on the poor eagless' neck, the world quieted. The crowd stayed still, and the music refused to play. Only the sound of the fleeting wind graced her ears as she came to an awful conclusion:
Whitetalon was dead.