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// Tonitri e Fulgur 
// Story: Census 
// by The 24th Pegasus 
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5th Amber Skies, 380 AE

We left the mountains of Pileus behind and embarked on a northeasterly course for the next few days. Upon reaching the Pon river, which flows northward from the mountains to the coast, we followed this natural road for quite some time. Gradually, the further we flew from the mountains, the warmer the weather became, until once more we found ourselves in comfortable air and bright sun; a welcome change from the cold dreariness of Pileus.

The northern coast of Dioda is comprised mostly of small fishing villages clustered around natural wells and springs that bring fresh water to their towns. Unlike cloud cities, most small villages in Cirra are built as settlements on the ground, and these villages were no different. In fact, many seemed to have forsaken the ground entirely, building homes on large logs of timber that rose many tail lengths off of the sandy beaches upon which they perched. It would seem that in the centuries of fishing the rough waters of the north, the pegasi living here have adapted to the frequent and violent storm surges that can raise the tides by ten, fifteen, or even twenty feet with little more than a day’s notice.

The pegasi that fish these waters are a more crass and crude people, but not without honor or hospitality. It is simply their way to not mince words or trick their neighbors out of some small fortune. You will notice upon meeting one, should you ever be so fortunate or daring in your exploits of the world, that they move like the ocean swells and speak like waves breaking against the shore, with momentary outbursts of intensity followed by a quiet remission into introspective thought. Even their appearance is befitting of the sea; their coats and feathers are streaked a powdery white with the salt of the sea, and their manes and tails have been cut short, if not outright shaved, so as to make swimming easier. Even some of the mares have chosen to shave themselves, creating an interesting appearance of wild, almost animalistic energy and grace.

These thoughts I did not air with my wife, for reasons any married stallion would understand and appreciate. I did note, however, that my eldest, Iustitia, seemed particularly struck with a clam diver. She was a fine filly, strong of wing and slender of limb, who had chosen to shave her mane and tail like many of her neighbors. I regret that, in recounting this filly now days after I last bore witness to her, I have forgotten her name. At the very least, my love for my son was such that, at my wife’s encouragement, I tarried a day longer than I expected in that town, so that young Iustitia may have his fill of the pleasantries of courting fillies. Even still, she was a plebeian, and any serious tangible threads of romantic attraction would be beneath my son’s position [1]. It is perhaps for the best that Iustitia will soon forget about her in the rest of our travels.

[1]: While it seems arrogant and even appalling to us that Aureus would speak so dismissively of another pony as being beneath his son’s ambitions simply because of the station of her birth, intermarriage between the patricians and plebeians of Cirra was very frowned upon. In fact, marriage between the two classes used to be illegal, as prescribed in one of the Laws of the Seven Tables, Cirra’s original lexicon of laws, but this was overruled in 59 AE when some poor patrician families realized that there were some rich plebeian families they could marry into to reclaim some wealth for their name.

From these small fishing villages we finally entered once more a city proper. In the north, there stands a ravine which the Rubiton river flows through as it makes its way out of the heartland. Perched on opposite cliffs of this ravine are two large cities, those of Tonitri and Fulgur, or collectively referred to on maps as Tonitri e Fulgur. Commonly known as the twin tribes or Twin Cities, these two settlements have existed together as separate but nearly identical institutions in terms of practice, culture, and outlook for centuries. Indeed, even in the times of the pegasus tribes before Roamulus united us, the two cities served as two tribes bonded by blood, close allies that fought together as one.

Unlike most cities in Cirra, these cities are likewise built on the ground like the fishing villages around them. The bluffs which they occupy are covered in all manner of buildings, and yet while no two buildings may look alike, the architectural themes are shared between the Twin Cities. If you were to start in the center of each city and work your way outwards, you would see the same themes at around the same time, corresponding with identical shifts in style and preference as the cities grew [2]. It is a curious coincidence, although I find it unlikely to be unintentional.

[2]: I’ve deliberated upon several historical scenarios that could arise in the creation of these ‘Twin Cities’, and the description Aureus gives here lends credence to one I find to be the most likely. Griffons tended to build their cities on the ground instead of in the air like the pegasi, and Tonitri and Fulgur are close to culturally griffon lands. It is likely that at one point the two cities were a single entity ruled by a griffon warlord before they were conquered by pegasus soldiers from a neighboring tribe. Upon the capitulation of the settlement, the commanding officers of the pegasus forces might have split the city along the natural divider that the ravine provided, to make the distribution of loot and the management of the settlement easier by those who would come to inhabit it. However, this raises the uncomfortable question of what happened to the griffons that inhabited the area to warrant a city of such substantial size that it would necessitate splitting by the victorious pegasi; given the disdain that Cirran pegasi carried toward all griffons regardless of birth, it is easy to imagine what happened.

I personally find the history of the Twin Cities fascinating, so pardon my pursuit of this tangent.

Historically, Tonitri and Fulgur existed as two separate tribes with extremely close ties through blood. The tribes of Thunder and Lightning, the two strove to reach consensus in all of their decisions, and when one flew into battle, the other would follow. Perhaps the most interesting of historical anecdotes is how the tribes were ruled. While each tribe had its own monarch who attended to the matters of their own pegasi, the rulers of both tribes shared blood, and were very frequently siblings. Tonitri and Fulgur were also unique for their time as they let mares rule over their tribes, for while the rule of the tribes was generally constrained to the blood of a few royal families, the leadership of the tribes was appointed based off of merit, so long as the appointed leader shared blood with the other tribe [3]. In this way, Tonitri and Fulgur were able to withstand repeated assaults by their neighbors, the ferocious Nimbans, and even invasions by griffon warlords thanks to the strength and competency of their command.

[3]: Who was truly the first to initiate this practice is cause for some debate. We know from Commander Hurricane’s journals that the leadership of Nimbus in his time passed directly to the eldest child of House Rain, regardless of whether they were male or female, but whether this practice was conducted before or after Tonitri and Fulgur instituted it is unclear. Both parties claimed the practice as their idea, but only Nimbus was allowed to keep its ruling dynasty and general autonomy when the pegasus tribes were united.

Leaders were chosen to the twin tribes by form of a specialized enclave. If the monarch of one tribe were to perish, the elders and advisors of both tribes would meet in a specialized cloud forum placed above the Rubiton to facilitate such intertribal events. In most cases, the ruler of the surviving tribe would be brought forward, and they would be asked by their own tribe to recommend one of their kin to take the mantle of leadership of their sister tribe. Usually, this would be a sibling, if the tribe leader had any surviving, or if not, a parent or child fit enough to rule. Cousins were nominated as last resorts, as blood any more dilute than that was not close enough for either tribe’s liking. This candidate had to be approved by their own tribe, and if they were not, a replacement had to be proposed. In rare cases where the monarch simply ran out of close enough blood to provide candidates from, an entirely different system would supercede this one, but that is discussed later.

Once a pegasus of their kin was selected, the surviving monarch would present that member to the currently leaderless tribe for review. Here, the elders and the clanless were allowed to debate on the merit of the candidate brought before them; those of the royal clans were barred from the first round of discussions so as not to let their jealousy or ambition bias their own review of the new candidate. Only if the elders and clanless could not come to an agreement were the royal clans allowed to partake in the second round of discussion. 

Depending on the strength of the candidate, discussions could conclude in as little as an hour or as long as several days of intense debate. However, once a choice was made, two things could happen. If the candidate was accepted, then both tribes would immediately begin preparations for the crowning of the new king or queen, in which the leader who nominated them would, after much festivity, take the crown of their twin tribe and place it upon their family member’s head, at which point the two tribes stood united and strong once more. Were the candidate to be rejected, however, then a dramatically different series of events would unfold.

While the initial debates of the leaderless tribe were conducted in private, were they to reject their candidate they would then call a hearing with their neighboring city and voice the reasons for their refusal. The elders and clanless of both cities would be able to debate with each other on the merit of the candidate, at which point the leaderless tribe could still be persuaded to back the pegasus put forward by the surviving leader. If no agreement could be reached, or if both tribes agree that the candidate put forward is not a suitable replacement, then the surviving monarch would be asked to put a different candidate forward. This would repeat for as many times as deemed necessary, or as possible, and it served as an excellent check against unmerited nepotism [4].

[4]: The distinction is obviously important here, considering that by the way the twin tribes ruled, they were in effect a nepocratic oligarchy. At least both tribes recognized the merit in having somepony qualified rather than just accepting appointments through blood, even if in the end they were still choosing from the same bloodlines.

In the case that the surviving monarch could not put forth suitable kin, or in the event that the leaders of both tribes had perished at the same time, then the assembled clans would begin the process for appointing two new rulers, both of whom were related by blood, and preferentially siblings. In the case of the loss of both tribe leaders, this was only natural, but it is interesting to note that they pursued this if the remaining ruler was still alive but also failed to produce a candidate to the tribes’ liking. If such was the case, the leader was removed from power and made an elder of his tribe, regardless of his age, as a reward for his service to the twin tribes in his time ruling one of them, but also as punishment, stripping him of his power before his death. Once this was done, if necessary, the royal clans from each tribe would present two siblings from their households as their candidates for the twin thrones, and again, the elders and clanless would deliberate and vote on each pairing. Interestingly, not all pairs were shown at once; there was some procedure about how the tribes determined which clans would get to present their candidates first, and in what order the remaining clans would follow, but with the practice discontinued for four centuries now, the records of this procedure are lost [5]. If the assembled enclave approved of the pairing brought to them, they would then cease seeking new rulers from the royal clans, and decide amongst themselves which sibling would rule which tribe. Even if both siblings spent more time living in Tonitri than Fulgur, or vice versa, this was irrelevant to the enclave; all the royal clans had bloodlines rooted in both cities, and it was not uncommon for family members, especially the young mares and stallions, to spend time living on both sides of the ravine. As such, who ultimately ruled which clan was a matter decided by necessity, compatibility, and public demand, and the siblings and their clan had little say in the matter. Once this was done, both siblings were crowned together, and would then separate to their respective new holdings, to rule as they were chosen to do so.

[5]: It is likely that this was done on some sort of rotation so that one royal clan wouldn’t always be seen as favored by the enclave in times when both leaders needed to be chosen. However, that is mere speculation, and it is unlikely that we will ever uncover texts detailing the process outside of Aureus’ words. Regardless, the system he describes here is surprisingly democratic for an age of kings and oligarchies, and wholly unique. There have been examples of “Twin Cities” elsewhere in history, but none with the same sort of co-dependence that Tonitri and Fulgur exhibited. It’s astonishing that one did not come to dominate the other and subsume it into a greater unified whole; at the time of Aureus’ writings, it seems quite clear that the two cities have remained separate but unified despite the passage of time since their last kings and queens.

The last king and queen of Tonitri and Fulgur were King Ictus and Queen Reverentia, respectively [6]. While they initially opposed Roamulus’ goals for the unity of all pegasus tribes under one banner, and indeed nearly ended it altogether when they decisively routed Roamulus at the battle of Canneigh in his campaign against them, the two ultimately realized that joining the coalition Roamulus had established between Cirra, Pileus, Procella, and many other smaller tribes was the only way they could guarantee safety from foreign aggression, both Nimban and griffon alike. In the end, the king and queen were allowed to remain as local governors and rulers of their cities, in effect maintaining much of their autonomy within the greater Cirran Empire, but losing their titles and many of the benefits they once enjoyed in exchange for the protection and services of the pegasus commonwealth.

[6]: Surprisingly, much information remains on King Ictus and Queen Reverentia, as it was carefully observed by their descendents as the last great monarchs of the twin tribes, and even managed to escape the destruction of the Cirran Empire by the griffons 400 years later. Born into the Incursio clan, the two were elected rulers of the twin tribes following the deaths of their predecessors in battle against Nimbus, when the Nimbans drove the twin tribes from the Brayccio region and claimed the lake for themselves, decapitating their leadership in the process. Ictus was described as an impassioned and impulsive stallion, while Reverentia was renowned for her beauty. Apparently that beauty even struck close to home; rumors abound of the number of foals the queen bore that looked remarkedly like her brother, and the two were inseparable, even by the standards of the Twin Cities.

But such times are long behind us. Nowadays, the Twin Cities perform an important function as grand fisheries and maintain a modest navy, inasmuch as a species that moves our armies by wing with no enemies across vast oceans has need of one. The fisheries of Tonitri and Fulgur collect the daily harvest of the sea that the numerous fishing settlements along the north coast bring forth and store it for distribution across the Empire. To preserve the fish and the bounty of the sea, the cities employ thousands of griffon slaves in the huge salt mines beneath their lands, which produce the sheer majority of the Empire’s salt. I learned during my visit to these cities that these are the only slaves that the cities employ for their public services; even in servitude, griffons are not welcome here, with only Nimbus being more openly hostile to our barbaric neighbors than they. It would seem that the only reason Tonitri and Fulgur employ slaves in their salt mines is due to a simple concern for placing equine workers in close proximity to what are essentially enormous salt licks. I will confess that I can understand the reasoning behind this; to work in the mines all day, surrounded by salt on all sides, would simply drive any pegasus to madness. Griffons do not share our fondness for salt, so it would only make sense to employ them in the mining and extraction of the mineral.

As I mentioned, however, griffons only make up a small part of the cities’ populations. Tonitri and Fulgur have populations of 57,000 and 52,000, respectively, for a total of 109,000 inhabitants living in the cities and surrounding countryside and shoreline. Less than five thousand griffon slaves live in the cities, and of these, two thousand are dedicated to the salt mines. The remainder are simply the personal charges of the wealthy nobiles who have come to call the city and the surrounding riverlands their home. In addition to these inhabitants, there are countless other migratory pegasi that flock to these northern waters around this time of year, namely the Gulls.

Much like the Pileans have noticeable natural differences between us and them, there’s a substantial flock of pegasi known as the Gulls that are curious in their own way. Though there is no true Gull city, or any Gull culture or history, the majority of their population lives in the Twin Cities and along the coast, as these pegasi have a much greater love of the sea than the rest of us do, and Tonitri and Fulgur are the closest major cities to the shore in the north. They are migratory pegasi, moving between the many coasts of Dioda as the seasons demand, and they spend much of their time hunting for fish, and I do mean that as I have written it instead of a poorly chosen alternate for fishing; the Gulls are known to spend entire days over the water, scanning for schools beneath the blue waves below them. When they find one, they abruptly dive into the water, landing with a wet splash and, if they are lucky, emerging with a fish pierced on the end of a wooden stake they carry with them into the water. Though they mostly patrol the coastal waters, the braver bands of Gulls like to scour the deep oceans, sometimes flying so far out over the sea that they disappear on the horizon. There, they prey on the larger fish, such as tuna and swordfish, and return at the end of the day with impressive hauls. While much of our fish is supplied by conventional fisherstallions using boats and nets, the Gulls are responsible for the majority of the larger fish brought to the market. They are more at home over the sea than over the ground, and their skills are quite respected by their neighbors, even if they might appear different from the rest of us [7].

[7]: Aureus doesn’t mention their specific differences here, but the Gulls were pegasi that were specially adapted to long flights over the sea. They tend to be larger than the average pegasus with very long, thin, and pointed wings to maximize their ability to glide for minimal energy at the cost of speed and agility. They were also remarkably waterproof, braving even the saltiest of waters without problem, in stark contrast to the Pileans. Pegasi today that have Gull blood in them are easily identified even when standing on the ground, as the tips of their wings will poke out above or behind their flanks instead of just touching their cutie marks like the common pegasus, and their flight feathers tend to be a different color than the rest of their wings and coat. They make up roughly 7% of our modern population.

The sibling nature of the Twin Cities extends to their laws as well. Laws passed in one city are passed in the other, after extensive review from the local governments of both, and both cities persecute criminals equally and fairly. This is made easier because pegasi born in one city are automatically recognized as citizens in the other, so they are subject to the laws and customs of both. This carries advantages for the average citizen as well, as they can very easily move between cities as they wish, own homes or businesses in one city and live in another, etc. Most families have members living in both cities, with roots running deep back into the time when both cities were there own tribes. It’s truly an interesting society to experience, and an amazing community that the cities have fostered over their history.

While my family stayed in the Twin Cities for me to gather my census data, we were housed in alternately the governors’ palaces in each city. Admittedly, while both palaces were grand, they had a decidedly similar layout, to the point where I did not need to ask for directions around the palace when we moved from Tonitri to Fulgur. Beyond that, the typical daily life of each city was almost identical, save for the ponies living those lives. Indeed, it felt like the ravine splitting the two cities was like a giant mirror, reflecting the nature of one city onto that of its twin, and vice versa.

Still, there was much to do while I awaited the delivery of my census reports. I took my sons, along with two of my trusted lictors, deep sea fishing to spend one day. Thankfully, the waters were calm, and it was a good day of bonding for the males of the family. Solidus had the largest catch, a young tuna measuring 27 inches from mouth to tail, which we all celebrated, even if the rest of us were less successful. For my part, I briefly hooked a sand shark, which thrashed about with snapping jaws with such ferocity that we were forced to let it go ere it cause some damage to the boat or any of us upon it. While it was an exciting moment, it was not something I was keen on experiencing again.

Iustitia, for his part, hooked a horseshoe. I am not particularly sure how he did so, but it happened.

While we were out on the sea, we also bore witness to some of the Gulls in action. There were only seven of them, which surprised me, and they towed a makeshift cart fashioned from cloud and wood behind them to hold their catch.They would take turns diving into the water, sometimes from as high as a hundred feet up, with their fishing spears braced against their bodies as they dived on the nearby schools. How they avoided breaking their necks when they pierced the water’s surface was beyond me, but after a few seconds in which they vanished beneath the briny surface, they would emerge in a flurry of splashing wings, sometimes with a catch. There was a lot of jovial whooping and hollering from their party as they fished, and when we hailed them and offered them a share of some of our beer and food, they took a break from their fishing to enjoy our hospitality.

Easterly Wind was the paterfamlias [8] of the family, and he and his two brothers and four sons had been working that stretch of ocean for the past week in search of better hauls. They were very friendly and keen to share their customs with us, including their migratory patterns; given that it was the beginning of Amber Skies, they figured they would only hang around the northern shores for another two months before rounding the western shores near Stratopolis before taking up winter residence in Procella to the south. I commented that the migratory nature of his clan makes it difficult for me to take accurate Census data, to which we began to practice some friendly debate. While I was of the opinion that keeping accurate count of all of the Empire’s inhabitants and wealth could only bring good things to our beloved Cirra, Easterly was, unsurprisingly, skeptical of such a practice, believing that the counting of ponies was a waste of time, for ponies are always birthing, dying, and moving from place to place, and any attempt to write them into the record books was therefore a waste of time. Still, Iustitia and Solidus were fascinated by the Gulls and their culture, and they were sorely disappointed when Easterly and his family departed to resume their fishing. At the very least, their minds were returned to their own spoils later that night, when my dear Electri fried the tuna Solidus had caught in some olive oil and made a good meal out of it. While we had become used to feasting on the local cuisine wherever we went, it was good to carry a bit of home with us; a good wife’s cooking is something sorely missed, even in the presence of other extravagance and bounty.

[8]: ‘Paterfamilias’ is old Cirran for ‘head of the household’, in this case, the oldest stallion of the group (similarly, the oldest mare of the group would be ‘materfamilias’). The paterfamilias was an important part of Cirran culture, as they and they alone commanded the authority of the household and oversaw its daily tasks and needs. When guests stayed at another pegasus’ house, they were housed under the hospitality of the paterfamilias, and as such were expected to show him respect and honor.

As much as I enjoyed my time in the Twin Cities, it eventually became time to gather my things and embark again. Next, we will travel to the very border of the Cirran Empire, where Nimbus serves as the stalwart vanguard to the precious Cirran heartland. The difference between it and Stratopolis, as I’ve heard from many senators who have made the journey before, is as stark as night and day. While my wife is nervous about what we might find, my sons are both excited for what awaits us. I confess that I find myself with a mixture of trepidation and excitement at what we will find. Every colt hears the stories of the great warriors of Nimbus while growing up; who knows how many of them are grounded in truth, and how many more fashioned from fiction? I shall soon find out, I am sure.