On the outskirts of the town of Adlerheim, a griffon laid on a cloud that had been pushed far, far lower in the sky, becoming tinged with dusk, than was natural, and peered over the edge of it, looking down at a flock of sheep out to pasture. Her flock of sheep, all hers, just to take care of. Watching them graze was the most soothing activity she could think of, and nothing could ruin it for her. Not even that distancing buzzing that had grown into a loud drone in what seemed to be an instant.
“What is that-“ was all she managed to say before an airship she would later swear was far larger than it actually was plowed into her cloud, destroying it entirely, and knocking her out of the sky with a scream that ended abruptly as she landed in a large pile of wooly bodies. Her faithful sheep caught her, just like she knew they would. She spared them a warm smile before glowering at the airship as it moved beyond the pastures.
“Damn airships,” she grumbled, before turning to address one of her sheep, “Think they own the sky.”
“Baa-aa-aa-aa,” said the sheep in agreement.
The departing airship itself measured a not-totally-insignificant seventy feet in length, and while certainly much smaller than larger airships measuring nearly a quart-mile in length, this one had been lovingly built one component at a time. The gondola hung suspended beneath the envelope, the former nearly as long and wide as the latter, made from wooden planks nailed to a frame and reinforced with thin bands of riveted steel, each one adorned along its length with runes of Old Griffon. The envelope itself was covered in dark, powdered metal and lacquered to protect it from the elements.
The space in between the two, where the main deck was located, was opened to the air, giving it an appearance more similar to a sailing ship than an airship. There we even a fore- and mainmast that extended upward, serving as locations beyond the lengths of steel cable where the gondola was anchored to the envelope. And at the stern stood an enclosed cabin, pentagonal in shape to allow the wind to flow around it as it drove forward, that housed a large panel of navigational instruments, a long, narrow table over which several maps were spread and clamped down flat, the helm and associated controls, and at that particular moment in time, Jacoby Flynn as he guided Die Trauer Stern through the sky towards Adlerheim, pushed through the air by two whirling propellers aft of the cabin.
Although he had not changed out of his suit since leaving Griffondorf, he had donned a heavy, leather jacket over it for added warmth at altitude. A pair of blocky, wide-lensed goggles were pushed up to his forehead. And, though he foresaw no need for it, a heavily used, well-loved revolving pistol was holstered at his left side. He was the very image of the daring, privateer captain that had become so popular in literature.
An image that was broken the instant the cabin door opened and Alexios, dressed similarly but with his goggles over his eyes and a blunderbuss that would have looked like a cannon next to any other creature slung over his shoulder, stuck his head in.
“Jake, I think we hit somegriffon.”
Jacoby turned his attention to Alexios only long enough to ask, “Are they dead?”
After a moment of confusion, Alexios returned to the stern of the airship, purposefully leaving the cabin door opened, and raised his spyglass to his eye, before returning to the cabin. “They are not.”
Jacoby waved his talons dismissively at that. “Then don’t worry about it, I’m sure they’re fine.”
“You’re a model citizen, Jake.”
Scant minutes later, the airship dipped low to the ground at a large yard just outside the town where a few other, larger airships were moored, the propellers reversing to arrest forward motion before shutting off completely. Four large anchors, two forward and two aft, dropped noisily to the ground, pitons in each of them plowing into the earth and preventing errant wind currents from carrying it away. Moments later, a rope ladder was lowered from midship, and Alexios, without his weapon and changed out of his flight jacket and goggles and back into his suit, climbed to the ground. Once his weight was gone, a spring in the ladder’s mechanism happily wound it back up. And a few seconds after that, Jacoby gracefully flew down to join him, likewise without his flight uniform and back into his suit, a satchel slung over his shoulder, and the two were off into Adlerheim proper.
In contrast to Griffondorf, Jacoby and Alexios both were recognized by only a few faces, but that suited them fine; they weren’t there to converse with anyone or to make new friends. Bypassing the shops and market entirely, they moved into and through the residential quarter, and eventually into the noble estates, which were simply two large lots of land belonging to the two noble houses that made their home in Adlerheim. As soon as they stepped onto the road leading to the larger of the two estates, Jacoby unfurled his wings and took to the sky while Alexios took off running, although it was hardly a race; wings or no wings, minotaur could outpace griffon any day of the week.
What it did do was save them time as they made their way to the large manor on the estate grounds. Stopping in the drive just in front of the entrance, they took a moment to compose themselves and then proceeded up the walk towards the clean, whitewashed walls that comprised the outside of the residence. A small button next to the dark, oaken door invited Jacoby to press it, and when he did, a sharp buzz emanated from the other side of the door, signaling the arrival of visitors.
Several seconds passed, during which Jacoby and Alexios took a few moments to straighten their jackets and make themselves seem just a bit more presentable, before the door opened. Behind it stood an elk who, despite getting on in years, carried himself with unsurpassed dignity, was dressed sharply and precisely in a three-piece suit; black jacket, grey vest, and white, wing-collared shirt, and black necktie, and had been immaculately groomed. This was Anton, the senior butler of the estate. A consummate professional, the only indication he gave that he was pleased to see either of them was the corners of his mouth upturning by half a millimeter into an invisible smile.
“Herr Flynn,” he said to the griffon, before turning to the minotaur, “Herr Stonehoof. A pleasure to see the both of you again.”
“And you, Anton,” Jacoby replied. “We don’t mean to keep you long, but the Duchess has drafted us to investigate some, uh, strange occurrences, including some around the manor.
“Uh, didn’t you have the option of turning it down?” Alexios asked, mainly because he was pretty certain that saying ‘no’ had been an option.
“Drafted, appointed, who cares?” countered Jacoby with a shrug.
“Very glad to hear,” said Anton, “Unfortunately, the Count is out hunting today, although he is expected back very soon, if you would care to wait for him.”
“Hm.” Jacoby brought a talon to his beak in thought. “I see no harm in that. Alex?”
Alexios glared down at Jacoby. “I’m barely qualified as a pilot and you said not to bring pocket money. Where else am I gonna go?”
“And there’s the answer. We’ll be happy to wait, Anton, danke sehr.” Both visitor’s to the Count’s manor stepped through the door and into and surrendered their jacket’s to Anton, although Jacoby maintained possession of his carrier bag, reason that he'd 'need it soon.’
It was only after this that either of them realized it was not only them and Anton in the foyer. There was also a fledgling standing against one wall who was trying his absolute best to avoid making eye contact, to stay perfectly silent, and to seem less interesting than the wallpaper (which, being a deep green and patterned in columns of tiny, tiny roses, was at least not unpleasant to look at, if not especially interesting). What stood out most about him at first was a lack of clothing common on highborn griffons, save for a small carrier bag that looked to be more patches than cloth. For talon caps, he had wrapped small strips of heavy cloth around his nails, which was far from ideal, but better than nothing. His fur and feathers were smudged in places with dirt, but it looked as though he had at least attempted to clean up.
"Who's that?" asked Alexios, somehow beating Jacoby to the punch.
"Just a young tiercel from town who comes to call every so often," answered Anton as he finished hanging the two jackets he'd been given. "The Count has carefully guarded any details beyond those, I'm afraid, though I suppose he might reveal a few more, should you ask him.”
As if that were a stage cue, the front door opened again, and in entered a third griffon, although he was not paying enough attention to realize he had company. Like the fledgling, his fur and feathers were lightly smudged with dirt, but it was clear that whatever he’d been through, the heavy, brown sport coat he was wearing took the brunt of it. Two leather bags hung suspended from either hip. One was an old, military-style ammunition bag, which doubtlessly held powder, shot and wadding for the long-barreled shotgun holstered across his shoulders. The remaining bag, of newer make, doubtlessly held whatever he had been hunting for.
To somecreature unfamiliar with him, the heavy, rough-spun coat, dirt, and hunting equipment may have concealed his identity for a brief time. But none present were unfamiliar with him at all. This griffon was the estate’s current master, Count Hänsel von Vergoldetflügal III.
“Guten tag, Eure Exzellenz,” Jacoby said, both he and Alexios dipping down in bows.
“Ah, meine freunde!” Hänsel said with a wide smile, as he attention turned to them fully. It was then that he noticed the fledgling, and in turn, Jacoby and Alexios noticed that the fledgling’s mood had improved by leaps and bounds once the Count had appeared. “You must excuse me for a moment, sirs.”
Hänsel, after pausing a moment to allow Anton to remove the shotgun from his back, approached the fledgling, who bowed to his elder in a very practiced, precise manner, although he continued to say nothing. “Hallo, little one,” Hänsel said to him. He seated himself on the floor, a model of perfect balance and straight lines, and the fledgling followed suit, a model of near perfect balance and mostly straight lines. “Und how have you been today? Have you been vell?”
The fledgling nodded, perhaps just a bit more enthusiastically than was really necessary.
"Gut, gut," Hänsel said with an approving nod. "Und you've been keeping up viz your exercises und practice? I noticed zat your form is almost perfect."
Bolstered by the approval, the fledgling gave an even more enthusiastic nod.
"Wunderbar! Ve shall make a gallant griffon of you in no time!” Hänsel was visibly pleased, much in the way a teacher would be towards a student who had performed exceptionally well. “But I suspect zat is not all you are here for. It vill be dinnertime very soon, after all. How many vill you need today? Don’t be shy."
The fledging lost his smile in an instant. With no small amount of trepidation, he looked away for a moment and, seeming to steel himself, turned back to face Hänsel with both his front feet raised, three talons extended on one, and a single talon on the other.
“Vier?!” The surprise in Hänsel’s voice could not be mistaken, but he relented immediately and surrendered everything he had in his bag. “Only zree today, so sorry. I hope zat vill be enough for your visitors.”
The fledgling's expression brightened, and he nodded excitedly once more, quickly grabbing all three birds and stuffing them into his own bag. His expression brightened further when Hänsel, wearing a warm and patient smile, ruffled the feathers atop his head. With surprising agility, he darted forward and seized the Count’s leg in a hug, and then zipped back to his bag, closing the top, throwing it over his shoulder, and hurrying on his way out the door Anton had opened for him. With a sad smile, Hänsel watched him depart.
“Friend of yours?” Jacoby asked after Anton had closed the door.
Hänsel nodded. “He lives viz his uncle, who has a crippled ving und cannot hunt. He is too proud to ask for or to accept any help, so I give food to his nephew, und ve pretend zat I have zrown it out, so it is not stealing, und it is not begging.” With a sigh, he turned to face his guests, adopting a happier expression. “But zat is not vhy you are here, of course. Give me a moment to change, und ve shall have our own discussion.”
“Well, if we’d known ya’d gone hunting’, we would’ve come a little later,” Alexios said.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” replied the Count. “Ze two are my friends, und I am alvays overjoyed to receive you. I shall only require a short time to dress a bit more appropriately for guests.”
“Really, Hänsel, we can come back in a bit,” Jacoby suggested.
“Nonsense, my friends. I just need a few moments to change out of zese clozes. Wait for me in ze drawing room. I have a new brandy for you to try. Ist wunderbar. Einfach wunderbar.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad, actually,” Jacoby replied. “Alright, Hänsel, we’ll see you in a bit, then.”
With a nod, Hänsel departed in one direction, while Jacoby and Alexios left in another. The count’s large house had a parlour off of the banquet hall, but that was mainly for entertaining large parties. The drawing room, located off the second, smaller dining room offered far more intimate interactions. It was also less lavishly appointed, with only a few large wall hangings and a single, large rug in the center of the room, three sofas arranged around a coffee table, with the fourth side unoccupied as it faced the large fireplace. Although no fire was burning, the room was dimly lit by low gas lamps.
Rather than any of the sofas, two pair made for a small, round table that sat opposite the sofas, near the windows. Rather than the chairs that were common in the drawing rooms of other nobles, four deep red, velvet cushions were arranged around the table (Hänsel felt that chairs were confining). A few moments after they took their seats, with Jacoby placing his carrier bag on the floor next to him, Anton appeared again from a door opposite the one they’d used, a silver tray bearing three snifters and a small carafe of mild, amber brandy suspended over a small candle balanced on one hoof, while the other three carried him forward, the liquid not sloshing even a bit. Exactly how he managed to do this had long remained a mystery to essentially every creature that chanced to meet him (including other elk, particularly the few who insisted it was impossible after trying it themselves).
Anton paused just long enough to rear back onto his hind hooves and use his remaining free one to raise the gas lamps just slightly, and then he was back to walking, depositing the tray on the table once he reached it and distributing the snifters, including to an empty cushion not yet occupied. Next, the carafe was raised up and away from the candle flame and swirled lightly before small measures of alcohol- not more than a couple of sips each- were poured into the snifters in front of Jacoby and Alexios. They each nodded their thanks, and then lifted their drinks, lightly inhaling the slightly sharp, slightly sweet aroma before taking a sip, savoring the feel on their tongues and the way it warmed their throats.
“Leave it to the Count to find the best,” Alexios said.
“Zu der Graf!” replied Jacoby in agreement.
“Danke sehr, danke sehr!” said Hänsel as he entered the drawing room, having changed from his hunting clothes to a white shirt, black dinner vest and scarlet cravat with a pearl pin. “But all zat I have done is provide ze space in which you drink. Zis most marvelous brandy vich you have enjoyed vas found by Anton’s impeccable senses.”
Anton, a consummate professional, only shifted slightly under the praise. “I can offer my best efforts,” he said calmly, “And am pleased that my find is to your liking, sir." As Hänsel took his own seat at the table, the elk poured the remainder of the brandy into the empty snifter, and then gently blew out the candle that had been warming the carafe before replacing that on the tray. The griffon, for his part, enjoyed the brandy’s aroma before taking a small sip, a smile playing across his face.
“Now zen,” he said suddenly, losing his glass to the table without releasing it, “Anton has informed me zat ze two of you vill be investigating ze, ah…” He twirled his free claw for a few moments until the word came to him. “Ze disturbances zat have been occurring around ze duchy, around ze Confederation of late, so before ve attend to business, I must ask you boz to stay for tonight. You have a lot of vork to do, so stay, have dinner, get a gut night’s rest, start early tomorrow morning, you vill zank yourselves for zis.”
“Hm,” Jacoby said, pretending to think hard about it. He turned to Alexios. “Good night’s rest?”
The minotaur nodded. “Good night’s rest.”
“Wunderbar! Two more for dinner Anton, if you vould not mind informing ze kitchen. I expect zat ve vill be along momentarily.”
“Of course, sir,” Anton said with a light bow. The two griffons and minotaur finished their brandy, scarcely more than a sip for each of them, and then placed them on the tray which was swept up by the elk and then carried away.
“So,” Jacoby said once Anton had left, withdrawing a small notepad and a fountain pen from his carrier bag. “Given that you are one of the ones experiencing these ‘disturbances,’ and given that that’s really the only reason I’m taking this even a little bit seriously, impress me. What’s been happening that’s causing such a fuss?”
“Vell,” Hänsel began, “Ze cutlery in ze kitchen has been arranging itself.”
Silence followed that admission. Alexios looked from Hänsel to Jacoby, who was staring at the other griffon as if he’d just asked for permission to wear a spatula on his head. Several more moments passed before Jacoby was finally able to process the information he’d just heard and formulate a response.
“What.”
Hänsel just chuckled. “I zought zat you vould have zis reaction,” he said, “Zat’s vhy I said zat ve vould be along momentarily. It vill be much, much easier to show you vat I mean.” He rose from his cushion and made his way towards the exit, a third door adjacent to the fireplace that served as the main form of egress for non-servants. Jacoby and Alexios watched him for a moment before sharing a look with each other. Alexios shrugged, and then both of them rose from their own cushions, Jacoby stuffing his notepad and pen (after reapplying its cap) into his pocket and lifting his bag over his shoulder again, and followed.
It was a short journey to the kitchen, and the kitchen itself was largely the way Jacoby had remembered it. Large, interspersed with several island countertops, two large iceboxes (to which Jacoby had discretely added a few ‘improvements’), and four full-sized ovens and stovetops. At that moment, it was also suspiciously empty of kitchen staff. “I thought dinner was promised,” Jacoby said.
“It is,” replied Hänsel, “But viz ze… vell, you’ll see.”
“Of course.” With a light thump, Jacoby dropped his carrier bag to the floor, and and then fished around for a moment, and brought out… something that Hänsel was not quite sure what to make of.
“Was ist das?” the Count asked.
It took Jacoby a moment before he realized he’d been asked a question about the boxy device he held in his talons. “Oh, this? Just a little contraption I whipped up. I’ll give you the full explanation if you want, but in summary, it reacts to ambient magical fields and converts a portion of their energy to an electric charge. As the needle on the gauge moves in response to changes in voltage and current, we can get a sense of how strong the fields in question are. Thinking I’ll call it the Arcano-Electrometer. Now seems as good a time as any to give it a field test.”
“I see,” Hänsel replied with a grin. “Every time I see you, it’s somezing different. Your runecraft never ceases to amaze me.”
Runes were both the oldest form of griffon writing, and also the expression of their magical heritage; words of power that allowed them to shape their world as they wished. Although they were not nearly as versatile as a unicorn’s spells or an elk skald’s song, as they had to be written, they were both reliable and predictable; an external magical field could disrupt a spell in unpredictable ways, and something as minor as a sore throat could prevent a song from ever forming. By comparison, unless physically damaged, runes would always work, and always work exactly as they were written, if not always as intended. And it was runes as well as wires that would hopefully make the Arcano-Electrometer work.
And sure enough, as soon as Jacoby pointed it towards the kitchen and squeezed the trigger on its underside, they all hear the distinct and repeating ‘pop!’ of electricity rapidly arcing between conductors. The needle of the gauge featured prominently in the center of the device rose a bit, indicating a detection of three volts.
“Zree volts,” Hänsel said, “Vat does zat mean?”
“I haven’t decided yet, I’ll need more data first. But there is definitely some kind of persistent magical field in your kitchen.” His piece spoken, Jacoby replaced the Arcano-Electrometer (which was perhaps a bit more of a beakful than he had originally anticipated) in his carrier bag and brought his notepad and pen out from his jacket again. “Now, what exactly was it that happens?”
“Vell, ze cutlery is in ze drawer in a specific order. Zis makes it easy to find vat you are looking for ven you need it,” Hänsel stated, “But vatch zis.” Without another word, he strode into the kitchen, opened one of the drawers, removed all the cutlery, and then made a point of putting it back in a different order than he removed it in. That done, Hänsel returned to the others, and turned around to face the kitchen.
For several moments, nothing happened. And then, something did. The drawer opened itself and in a flash, all the cutlery contained within it flew out and into the air, and then back into the drawer quickly and efficiently. Finally, the drawer closed itself.
“Vell, sere you have it,” Hänsel said when it was finished, “Vat did you zink?"
Neither Jacoby nor Alexios really had any words to describe what they’d seen. It was jarring, certainly, and had somecreature been in the kitchen at the time, there was no doubt it might have posed a safety hazard. But mostly, it was just jarring. The griffon looked down at his notepad, still devoid of anything meaningful, and then back towards the kitchen. Placing the notepad back into a jacket pocket and holding his pen in his beak, he advanced into the kitchen, opened the cutlery drawer, swapped the positions of two knives, shut the drawer and then stepped back.
Sure enough, a few moments later, the drawer opened itself, both knives hovered up and into the open, switched places with each other, and floated back down into the drawer before it closed itself. Jacoby supposed, for a moment, that a unicorn’s magic could have replicated the effect, but except in the cases of an especially skilled illusionist, unicorn magic always had a very obvious tell. Withdrawing his notepad once more and taking his pen in talon again, he made a simple note to indicate that what they’d witnessed in that kitchen was, without any doubt, übernatürlich:
UN+
And then, he turned to Hansel and said plainly, “I think I’ll have another brandy."
“Thank you for coming, Herr Flynn.”
In the village of Lerchenwiese the following day, Jacoby and Alexios were both led out towards the sheep pastures by one of the more prominent residents, the former with a carrier bag slung across his chest to carry some equipment. Not a noble, but well-respected by the locals nevertheless.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Jacoby replied to the statement. “The information I was given only indicates that your sheep are grazing differently, but that nothing much else has happened.”
“Well, it’s not that they’re just grazing differently, Herr Flynn. It’s, well, I think it’ll be easier to show you.”
Jacoby and Alexios exchanged curious glances, but settled on silence for the remainder of the walk. The destination was, as expected, the sheep pen, where the sheep inside seemed perfectly normal. The instant they’d reached the fence surrounding the sheep, Jacoby reached into his bag and brought out his Arcano-Electrometer (deciding that name might, in fact, be a bit too cumbersome), and trained it on them. They immediately reacted as could be expected of any creature that suddenly found a device that resembled a weapon pointed at them; by shying away and trying to stay out of the perceived line of fire.
“What’s that?” their escort asked.
“Measuring instrument of my own design,” Jacoby answered, “It detects and measures magical fields, and given that it’s silent and its gauge isn’t registering, I think it’s safe to say your flock hasn’t been hexed. They seem normal, at least.”
“Well, I’m very happy to hear that. Now, put it away, you’re scaring them. More than they already are.” With a snort, the griffon clambered over the fence and was immediately beset by a chorus of bleats, and responded by pleading futility, “One at a time, one at a time!”
Without warning, Jacoby felt a sharp pain on the top of his head and whirled about to glare at Alexios, rubbing the spot he’d just been bopped on, as if to ask, ‘Why did you do that?' Alexios glared back evenly, as if to say, ‘You know why.'
“What about the pasture?” Alexios asked asked after a few moments of glaring in an attempt to defuse the situation. With a huff, Jacoby turned the Arcanometer (a much better name, he decided) onto the open field of grass, which he noted then also had a fence around it, even if it was much less sturdy and intended only to mark a property boundary. Even five yards distant, the sporadic electric snapping that accompanied the slight, but noticeable rise and fall of the needle told him everything he needed to know. When he moved closer, the reading only became more positive.
“Well, there’s something off about the pasture,” he concluded, before turning back to the griffon that had led them out there. “You had something to show us about the sheep, I think.”
The griffon nodded, and with a flap of his wings, he cleared the fence surrounding the pasture, and then opened the gate separating it from the sheep. Immediately, the flock stared at the gate and made no moves, which was, to say the least, unexpected. “I know none of you like what happens,” the shepherd said, “But Herr Flynn thinks he can fix what’s happening, if he has more information. We just need you out for a little bit, and then we’ll pull you all back in."
A few moments passed, and then the flock turned in on itself, quietly discussing what should be done. Finally, it turned back towards the gate, and the sheep moved towards it in the way they always might. At least, until they actually reached the pasture. The moment that each sheep stepped outside the gate, they immediately fell into lines with the rest of the flock, quickly forming ranks with precision expected of soldiers. Once they had all formed up, each sheep leaned its head down in unison with the others, took a mouthful of grass, chewed it exactly fifteen times, and then moved forward a half-step to repeat the process. When the sheep behind the first rank reached grass that had already been eaten, the entire formation marched forward until it stood over uneaten grass, and the process repeated anew.
“They’ll do this for a few minutes, until they’ve had their fill, I think,” said the griffon in the pasture as he approached Jacoby and Alexios again, who watched with the same disbelief they’d shown the day before with the kitchen in Hansel’s manor. “And then, they come back in all on their own. Herr Flynn, what’s happening to my flock?”
“I don’t know, yet.” Pressing a button on the Arcanometer, Jacoby locked in the current reading before placing the device on a fence post. Out from his jacket pocket came his notepad and pen, and he began to rapidly scribble notes about what he’d seen, the reading from the Arcanometer, and his conclusion of the situation:
UN+
“But I have every intention to find out."
In the town of Zuckburg, Jacoby and Alexios stood quietly in a clockmaker’s shop, attentively watching the seconds tick off on four of the devices she had lined up on the front counter. Three had been set to different times by her, and the fourth had been left alone. The fourth was also a rather attractive piece, and both Jacoby and Alexios were quietly considering what steps might need to be taken to convince the other not to purchase it, leaving the way clear for themselves to take it home.
Finally, it was time. The clock which had been left to keep its original time ticked off another minute as it passed, and just as the griffon who owned the lot had promised, the remaining three immediately went into action, their hands moving until they indicated the same time it apparently now was. According to their owner, and the few other griffons Jacoby had interviewed, it was exactly the same way for every clock or watch in town, all of them keeping perfect time. All in all, the whole activity was quiet, unobtrusive, not disruptive to the environment around it, and in all truth, was actually quite helpful.
“This is a problem?” Alexios asked, looking at the clocks with understandable skepticism.
The griffon who owned the clock shop shrugged her shoulders. “Not especially,” she answered, “But it is interesting.”
“Indeed it is,” Jacoby concluded. He didn’t even need to make a clock reset itself to record a reading on the Arcanometer; whatever force was setting the clocks was keeping them wound as well. In what was becoming more commonplace than he was completely comfortable with, he recorded his observations and conclusion on his notepad:
UN+
In a tiny village that Jacoby would work very hard to forget everything about the moment he left it, he stood patiently, notepad and pen in his talons, with Alexios standing to one side and the owner of the house they were presently in to the other.
All three of them were staring at an ordinary, yellow sponge sitting in the bottom of a wash basin. Or more accurately, they had been staring at it until just the moment when Jacoby reflected that the griffon playing host to them was probably a bit more unhinged than was really healthy. Thereafter, both Jacoby and Alexios were eying their host admonishingly.
"It, it moved, I swear!" said the griffon whose name Jacoby had already blocked from his mind. His voice was just a tiny bit pleading and, more worryingly, just a tiny bit manic. "Just keep watching it, you'll see! It'll move again!"
It didn’t.
UN-
The airship’s anchors fell heavily to the ground, pitons burying themselves deeply into the grassy soil. If the sight of an airship had not been enough to rouse worry in the residents of Eisendorf, the noisy impact of the anchors certainly did. In no more time than it took Alexios to finish descending the ladder and send it winding back up, a griffon wearing a bright collar landed, it seemed, almost as heavily as the anchors did, right in front of him.
“What in the Hell are you doing?” he demanded. Rather than verbalize a response, Alexios calmly reached into his jacket pocket, procured Jacoby’s Letters, and offered them as an explanation. Wearing an irritated scowl, the griffon snatched them away and began reading, his expression changing from irritation to surprise to relief as he did. “Oh, thank Heaven you’re here, Herr Flynn.”
“Stonehoof,” the minotaur corrected, jerking his thumb up towards the airship, “Flynn’s still upstairs.”
“Not for long, I’m not!” An instant after shouting, Jacoby leapt from the airship’s deck and stretched his wings, drifting to the ground in a spiral dive and landing gently. “Sorry for any confusion,” he said, straightening his jacket and adjusting the strap of his carrier bag. “I’m Jacoby Flynn, my associate is Alexios Stonehoof. I take it he’s presented our Letters to you already?”
The other griffon gave a nod. “Yes, he did. I’m Ansgar Wolkejäger, Eisendorf’s mayor. We’re-“ He interrupted himself to address the crowd that was starting to form around them- “It’s fine, everybody. They’re here to fix the mine.” It might not have necessarily been true, but the cheer that rose from the crowd before they reluctantly went back to what they were doing was proof enough that morale needed a boost. Wearing a slightly sheepish grin, Ansgar continue in a much lower volume, “Sorry about that. It’s just-“
“I understand,” Jacoby interrupted with a grin of his own, “And it’s fine. They needed it. Just like we need some information, we haven’t really been given any regarding the situation. Could you fill us in while you show us to the, mine, you said?”
“That’s right. It’s this way.”
Ansgar took the lead as the three of them walked through town, explaining what had transpired over the past week at the mine that was the heart of Eisendorf. The news was not good.
“Just like that?” Jacoby asked, still not quite sure what he had just been told. “Suddenly, the rock stopped yielding? Not to picks or hammers? Did you try explosives?”
Ansgar nodded sadly. “We did. Five pounds of gunpowder, and the rock wasn’t even scored. We even spent a bit of money to bring in some of that, experimental explosive they’ve been working on in the capital. Nitre… nitra….”
“Nitroglycerin?”
“Yes, that’s it! We tried, maybe two quarts of it? Such a small amount, but it was so powerful. Sound and fury like I couldn’t believe!”
Jacoby couldn’t believe it either. “Nitroglycerin has more than twice the explosive power of gunpowder. Even just a small amount… if you set off two quarts in a confined space, it should have at least collapsed part of the tunnel. Did it do anything?”
Ansgar shook his head. “Sound and fury like I couldn’t believe, but not much more than that. The nice griffons who furnished the stuff were shocked beyond belief.” Jacoby had no response, and turned his gaze towards the ground in thought as they walked.
“Well, we’re here.” At that, Jacoby turned his gaze back up, and sure enough, there was the mine entrance in front of them. From his limited experience, it looked well-built and maintained, but also wasn’t being used. There were a few other griffons about the entrance, doing some light work, but hardly anything that could really be considered productive.
“They all look so sad,” he remarked.
“Yeah,” Alexios said in agreement, “It’s almost like they’ve just given up on, everything.”
“That mine is everything to Eisendorf. Half the able-bodied griffons in this town work in it,” Ansgar stated, “And most of the other half works because of it. If we can’t mine here, we can’t live here, either. But nothing we try work. Even the rocks just outside the mine refuse to so much as chip.”
Ansgar suddenly found himself with a minotaur-sized jacket shoved into his arms. “Hold this,” said Alexios as he loosened and tossed his necktie after it before walking towards a discarded pickaxe. He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and undid his collar and the top two buttons down the front of his shirt, giving him more room to breathe. With a sharp inhale, allowing his physique to expand out to its impressive (by griffon or really any standards) full size, looking for a moment less a creature and more living statue chiseled from solid stone. Hefting the pickaxe up, he approached a small boulder.
Winding up an overhead swing and drawing in a deep breath, he slowly arced the pickaxe towards the boulder, lining up his swing. The griffons that had been around the mine entrance assembled around him at what seemed like a safe distance.
Winding up a second swing and drawing in another breath, muscles rippling, Alexios slowly arced the pickaxe down a second time, locking the path into memory. Many of the griffons around him noticed how warm it had suddenly become.
Winding up a third swing and drawing in another deep breath, Alexios shut his eyes and slowly arced out the path one more time, preparing himself for what was to come. One of the griffons watching dug their talons into the soil, and would have bitten their lip if their had one to bite.
Winding up a fourth swing, eyes still shut, and drawing in another breath, Alexios bellowed a war cry that shook all present to their bones and exploded into motion, swinging the pickaxe down on the boulder with such force that the unaided eye had no hope of following its path.
With a tremendous ‘CLANG!’ the pick’s head promptly separated from the shaft and went streaking off towards the stratosphere, disappearing from sight in mere moments. Even after, Alexios held his post-swing pose for several moments while his body calmed down from the sudden violence of his movement, his muscles still held in tension and looking as though they might bulge and burst through his shirt at any moment.
Several of the female spectators (and a few of the males as well) immediately swooned and fell to the ground in dead faints.
Finally relaxing, Alexios stood up straight and looked at the broken pickaxe for a moment before discarding it, rolling his sleeves down and buttoning his shirt up again as he returned to Jacoby and Ansgar. “Well, that’s all I got,” he said.
“Wow,” was all Ansgar could manage to say, passing the rest of Alexios’ clothes back to him in a daze.
Jacoby had, by that point, given up watching Alexios, and had even bothered to bring out the Arcanometer, but had switched his attention to his notepad, furiously writing out notes, thoughts, conclusions, extrapolations, hypotheses and everything else that was coming to his mind, heedless of the world around him until he’d heard his name.
“Herr Flynn”?
Jacoby snapped out of his note-writing stupor, looking to Ansgar. “Sorry,” he said, “Swept up in thought. What did you say, again?”
Ansgar quirked his brow for a moment, but did not dwell on whatever it was that came to his mind. “I asked what you meant when you said, ‘by all means available.’”
“Oh.” Jacoby capped his pen before continuing. “It’s a provision of Parliamentary Letters that in any instance where national security is concerned, Letter Bearers are granted special powers and can command resources beyond what would normally be allowed. You said you find some gold here, but that the mine primarily contains iron, and also said that the town’s biggest export is pig iron. Steel is one of the Confederation’s primary exports, particularly to Dromedus and Elkienhiem, and the proceeds from that are helping us build up our army, which we’re going to need if rumors about Equestria turn out to be true. If you can’t mine iron, the Confederation can’t export steel, and we can’t maintain our army. It’ll be a tough sell to the Duchess, but if I can get some more equipment and materials, then I believe I can have a solution before the week is out.”
“Herr Flynn, please don’t drag Parliament into this. We’ve done fine without them since before the Confederation even came together. We don’t need them, and we especially don't need them dragging us into war with anyone.” Ansgar’s voice was nothing short of pleading.
Jacoby heaved a sigh. “Mayor Wolkejäger, this isn’t going to solve itself. Tell me truthfully, with nothing coming out of the mine, how many weeks can you expect everyone to wait, hoping it gets resolved? How many days before griffons start leaving to find work elsewhere, and once that starts, how long before so many have left, the town won’t survive?” When no answer was immediately forthcoming from the suddenly uncomfortable Ansgar, Jacoby pressed on. “There won’t be a war with Equestria. After a lost Princess returning and the rivers of light? They’re probably struggling just to do their housekeeping. But do you know what it means if the Confederation isn’t exporting steel? It means that Eisendorf isn’t exporting iron. It means the citizens have no money to buy food with. It means the town has no income to buy timber with. I couldn’t care less about the politics of the situation if I tried to, but griffons will suffer because of this problem with the mine. I have to find a solution fast, and the only way to do that is to requisition additional resources by means of protecting national security.”
Ansgar was silent for several moments, and then with a sigh, hung his head in defeat. “If you must, Herr Flynn,” he said. He raised his head again, his features showing the beginnings of hope. “Can you really solve it in one week?”
A knowing smirk spread across Jacoby’s face. “On my honor, I will solve this in one week, or I will retire completely from science, from runecrafting, and from civilization and become a hermit. Your livelihoods are at stake. It seems only fair I should put mine on the line as well.
“Now gather up your workers. I need as much information about the mine you can possibly provide, as quickly as you can provide it. The clock is ticking.”
UN+
In another tiny village that Jacoby would work very hard to forget everything about the moment he left it, both he and Alexios found themselves watching a frog that their (admittedly not-at-all manic) host had been keeping in a shoe box.
Jacoby stared at the frog.
Alexios stared at the frog.
After several seconds, neither of them was convinced the frog had even noticed them. “And you’re sure that the frog dances and you aren’t just lonely?” Jacoby asked. He checked the Arcanometer again, and as expected, it had remained perfectly still.
“If moving in with another creature, any other creature, is what it takes to make the frog stop dancing, I’ll do it,” replied the griffon whose home they were in. This one had not even supplied his name; he heard who they were and immediately dragged them inside so they could ‘fix the problem.’ “I’ve thrown this frog in ponds, off cliffs, I even took it up to the clouds and dropped it. But here it is!”
“Mmhm,” said Jacoby, turning to regard the griffon directly, “Well, I’m sure that just-“ He was interrupted very suddenly when the Arcanometer started popping, and turned his head back to the frog just in time to see it finish donning a top hat and whipping a cane out from somehow before launching into an exaggerated kick step.
Hello, my baby!
Hello, my honey!
Hello, my ragtime gal!
Send me a kiss by wire.
Baby, my heart's on fire!
If you refuse me,
Honey, you lose me.
Then you'll be left alone.
Oh baby, telephone
And tell me I'm
Your own!
The frog finished its kick step, threw its cane and top hat away, and returned to being an ordinary frog, the Arcanometer going quiet as it did.
Jacoby stared at the frog.
Alexios stared at the frog.
After several seconds, neither of them was convinced that the frog was not staring back at them.
UN+
+++
Night time, was quiet time. As the griffon settled down under her blankets, she was absolutely ready to forget about her troubles and enjoy some well earned rest.
At least, until a distant buzzing she had been ignoring suddenly seemed like a roar passing over her cottage.
“Oh, come on!”
She went tearing out of her front door, still dressed in her night gown, as the familiar looking tail of an airship washed her house and everything immediately around it, including her, in wind and noise from its propellers. “Do you jerks know what time it is?!” she shouted, not caring if she couldn’t be heard or not. To help drive home how upset this had left her, she balled her talons into a fist and vigorously shook it at the departing airship. A quick look around revealed that her entire small flock of sheep had surrounded her and were mimicking the same action with their hooves.
“What are you doing?!” she demanded of them, “Shake harder!” The griffon, and all of the griffon’s sheep, redoubled their efforts, shaking their fist and hooves with such furor that it threatened to give them all repetitive stress injuries.
“Baa-aa-aa-aa-aa!” one of the sheep shouted at the airship. Its cry of rage went unheard by its target.
Aboard the airship, Jacoby stood at the helm, the interior of the cabin illuminated in pale light from a tube inset in the ceiling, fluorescing with an artificial daylight best described as ‘enough to see by as long as we’re not in a hurry.’ Although the stars and moon were bright that evening, the griffon elected to navigate using his instruments entirely, the setup of which included more than could be used by a single individual at one time, all linked together through a complex mechanical array. It was a design he was especially proud of.
He briefly turned his attention away from the instrument panel when he heard the trapdoor to the lower compartments opening, but turned back when he saw that it was, of course, Alexios.
“Half-past two, Jake,” the minotaur said, closing the trapdoor behind him with a thud. “Ya sure ya don’t wanna just, anchor us for the night and get some sleep? Hell, let’s turn around, go back into Adlerheim. You know Hänsel will put us up for the night.”
“It’s not much further to Griffondorf,” Jacoby replied. “We’ll be there by sunrise, and then once we’re back home, behind locked doors where I know my notes and samples won’t vanish or be mysteriously altered, then I-“ He interrupted himself with a wide yawn- “I’ll sleep.”
The griffon again turned his attention away from his instruments when he heard a cap being removed, and saw that Alexios had brought up a thermos and was filing the lid, doubling as a cup, with steaming liquid. The aroma of coffee quickly filled the cabin.
“Knew you’d say that, so I brought you a cup,” Alexios said, passing over the liquid energy. Jacoby happily accepted the cup when offered, although he was careful not to burn himself with it.
“Thanks Alex. You are the best bodyguard ever.”
“I try.”
They both stood in silence for several moments, Jacoby focusing on his coffee and the instrument panel, and Alexios drinking directly from the thermos.
“I’m still thinking’ about that damn frog,” Alexios said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. The silence was renewed and persisted for a few moments more before Jacoby finally thought of a response.
“At least the sponge didn’t start dancing.”
Alexios angled his gaze skyward for a few moments, giving the statement some consideration. Ultimately, he shrugged to no one in particular but himself. A dancing frog really wasn’t that bad, after all.