Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

by DarkZonker

Ceremonies

A shaft of light pierced the darkness of Marcus’ room, illuminating his closed eyes like a bandanna. His eyes cracked open slowly, squinting through the light. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, trying to knock the sleep out of his system. He sat up with a stretch, popping his neck and spine with a twist. His legs swung over the edge of the bed as he finished releasing his built up tension.

He brushed the straw that was stuck to his tunic off and straightened it out. Marcus looked at his apparel deeming it clean for the trials ahead. Slipping on the discarded sandals from yesterday, Marcus walked outside to the nearby well. The bucket fell into the cool, dark hole ending with an echoing splash. He pulled on the rope hand-over-hand, the jerking bucket spilling a little water back into the well. Bucket in hand, Marcus walked back inside to the water basin that was in a small closet near his room.

He opened the door and saw the stone basin at the far end of the closet. Above the basin was a small mirror, really only big enough to fit his face. The room itself was barely big enough to stand in, his shoulders had maybe half a foot of clearance from either wall. Marcus poured the water into the basin and dipped his hands in. The ice cold water numbed his hands as he cupped it and splashed his face. The shock from the cold washing away any remnants of sleep. He continued to wash his face, scraping the long dried blood from his forehead, chin, and nose.

He wiped the freezing water off of his face with a hand. A breeze had swept through the closet making his slightly damp face even colder. He placed his hands on both sides of the basin and leaned. Marcus looked at the mirror and was greeted by his own face. His green eyes stared right back as he looked over his face. There was a slight bloody tinge to his skin making him look a little sunburnt. His messy brown hair hung down to bushy eyebrows in a curly mop. There was long stubble, at least three days worth, that covered the lower half of his face and met up with the rest of his hair at his sideburns.

He grabbed the bronze razor that hung on a wooden peg underneath the mirror. The long straight razor shone in the closet’s low light. Marcus snatched the bar of soap that sat in the rim of the basin and started lathering his face and neck. He grabbed the razor close to the blade and brought it to his cheekbones, thankful that his sharp facial features didn’t get in the way of shaving. Marcus pulled the blade down, cutting away the soapy, black veil. He managed to not cut himself shaving the rest of his face and neck, leaving the short sideburns that hung down from his hair.

Splashing the rest of the lather off Marcus ran a hand along his cheek and chin, reveling in the smoothe tingling sensation. The elders had told him that being clean shaven was an important part of the pre-ritual. He didn’t understand why but he would follow their directions, they were the elders for a reason.

Marcus, content with his appearance, grabbed the long, worn, green travelling cloak and left his house. As he closed the front door, He looked at its wind battered facade and thought about how long it would be until he saw it again.He threw the cloak around his shoulders, clasping it at his collarbone. Sighing, Marcus started the walk down the dirt road into the city. He quickly fell into a rhythm of the sound of his sandals crunching the rocks. He allowed his mind to drift as he continued down the road. Trees and rocks passed by as a brown and green blur. A pastel colored blotch broke out from the mould.

What? He thought. That color really didn’t fit in his scenery. Marcus stopped and found the foreign colors. What he first saw was a bright red wooden wagon, followed by several colorful ponies. Marcus didn’t much like the ponies, they looked disproportionate and acted silly all of the time. How a society could just burst out into song and dance for no reason baffled him. As much as he didn’t like them, their transportation was wrecked. Marcus could see that both left wheels were busted. It was the polite thing to do, to help them, and he was honor bound to help.

With a sigh, Marcus approached the ponies. One of the ponies was standing on a box, pointing a foreleg at the others and barking orders. He was white with a grey mane and a marionette “cutie mark” or whatever they called it. His underlings were scrambling around comically searching for the tools to fix their wagon.

“Hello,” Marcus called out, startling the boss pony. The pony jumped nearly a foot in the air, his hair spiking out like a rolled up porcupine. Marcus really didn’t like ponies.

The pony turned around, a look of fear flashing across his face as he saw the tall, well-built, cloaked human. It passed quickly as he recognized that the human was not acting threatening. He was what they called an earth pony, if Marcus remembered correctly. A face splitting smile burst out on his face.

“Ah, hello,” Marcus could tell that the pony was struggling with his words. “My name is Marionette, and this is my Traveling Show,” he ended with an elaborate bow, then gestured to his employees. The others caught on to their leader after a second of dumbly staring and started doing backflips and juggling random balls that were practically pulled out of nowhere. Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“It seems like you’re having some wagon troubles,” Marionette suddenly looked sheepish, a drastic change from his showboating attitude from before. “I can help you if you’d like.”

“That would, um, be very much appreciated… uh…” Marionette stumbled a little on his words, but clearly digging for Marcus’ name.

“Marcus,” he said curtly, walking over to the pony troupe.

“Marcus,” Marionette said slowly, getting used to the name in his mouth.

“Mhm,” Marcus hummed. He knelt down next to the back left wheel. A chunk of it was missing and it’s axle was broken. He turned his head to the other broken wheel; it had broken in half, the top axle was the only thing supporting the wagon.

“We were on the way to Atlantis down the road there to perform but hit a particularly nasty pothole and drove off the road,” Marionette explained as he saw Marcus inspect the damage. “We’ve been trying to fix it for the last hour, but nothing worked.”

“Yeah, I can help,” Marcus said with a nod. “You’ll be out of here in five minutes, tops.”

“Oh thank you, Marcus,” Marionette breathed out a sigh of relief.

Marcus nodded and closed his eyes. He pressed his hands together, hard enough to hurt his wrists. Focusing, he imagined the curve of the wheel. Marionette saw his hands glow with a forest green aura, his jaw dropped fast enough to break the sound barrier. Marcus began to slowly pull apart his hands, his fingers curling into a cradle. Matter started swirling between his palms, delicately spinning into the form that he held within his minds eye.

The wheel piece finished materializing with a magical pop. Marcus opened his eyes and quickly grabbed the floating piece of wood, fitting it into the wheel. He held his hands over the separated wheel pieces and concentrated on forming them back together. The wheel glowed the same forest green, then dissipated. Marcus removed his hands, finding that the wheel was completely fixed.

“Hey, can someone lift the wagon for a bit please,” Marcus asked Marionette from over his shoulder.

“Yeah, just one second,” Marionette said. He turned to the other ponies and yelled at them loudly in their own language, a nickering and whinnying language with some words tinged with roots of many other languages.

Two large ones, that just rippled with muscle and looked like they could squish Marcus with a single stomp, stumbled and their eyes flashed with fear. Another bark from Marionette and they ran as fast as they could to the wagon and slipped in and lifted the massive wooden box. The axle exposed, Marcus held his hands out covering the axle in his aura. It flashed green and popped, slightly blinding Marcus.

He did the same with the other wheel, hastily fixing the wagon. The wheels and axles looked as good as new, one even sparkled a little, which made absolutely no sense to Marcus considering that it was wood. Marcus stepped back and admired his work with a grin.

“There you go, all fixed,” said Marcus.

“That was incredible, I didn’t even know humans could use magic,” Marionette said breathlessly.

“Yeah, well,” Marcus said, his eyes drooping, “this one can.”

Marionette saw Marcus’ face fall, his good cheer from earlier disappearing, Marionette folded his ears.

“Uh… Oh!” His ears perked back up. “Thank you for repairing my wagon. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Marcus smiled and turned to the pony. “Now that you mention it, you said you were headed to Atlantis, right?”

“Yeah, we have a show there tomorrow.”

“I could… use a ride?”

Marionette smiled broadly and stood up on his hind legs, spreading his forelegs wide. “Of course, my boy!” His bluster erupting once more.

---

The ride into the city was uneventful. After much yelling on Marionette’s part at the other ponies, the two large ones were hitched up in the front pulling the wagon along the road. Marcus sat quietly in the back, bouncing lightly with the texture of the road. The other ponies sat around the wagon tinkering with the gimmicks that they used in their boss’ show. Marionette sat out on top occasionally yelling at the hitched ponies the directions of where to go.

The ponies snuck looks at him when they thought he wasn’t looking sometimes, and when he caught them, they quickly looked away as if Marcus hadn’t seen. He ignored them for the most part, their herd instincts always got in the way of trade. He could see that their muscles were tense, he was sure that if he moved too quickly they would all run away.

Marcus looked out of the front of the wagon to the sprawling walled metropolis that hugged the deep bay. Atlantis was the largest of the human city-states that dotted the Lost Islands. The islands were near the Holy Griffin Empire. Atlantis was on the largest of the islands and closest to the griffin mainland. The island was big enough to fit all of the others into it and then some.

Its aged wooden houses were mixed with much taller marble temples and buildings. He could see columns of smoke rising out of various sections of the city. Seagulls screeched and flew overhead, although there was a large cloud of them circling over the ocean; someone must have had a good haul.

He saw two city soldiers standing guard outside the gates. They had bronze helmets that his their faces in shadows, two dark eye shaped columns separated by a nose strip that ran to their jawline and even a little farther. They carried large, circular, polished bronze shields inscribed with a large A, and tall spears topped with what looked like a serrated harpoon head. A thin bronze chestplate that was carved to look like muscles covered their chests and golden greaves shined in the afternoon sun.

Marionette showed them his papers and the guards let him inside. There was a hastily constructed marketplace inside the gate, a great group of people practically blocking off the road. Marcus pulled his torso out through the front of the wagon and looked to the white pony above him.

“Hey, this is where I get off,” Marcus said, straining slightly from the angle he had to look up in.

Marionette looked down to the cloaked human, taking a split second to register the change in language. “Oh, okay. Safe journeys, Marcus,” he said cheerfully.

“You too, Marionette. And good luck with your show, humans can be a pretty tough crowd,” Marcus said as he pulled himself out from the wagon.

Marionette chuckled and gave a little shake of his head. “Don’t I know it. This isn’t my first time to Atlantis or any of your other cities, I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Take care,” Marcus smiled as he hopped off the wagon. The steady pace set by Marionette swiftly taking them out of sight as they rounded a corner just before the market.

Marcus smirked and gave a short cough of a laugh while shaking his head. Those ponies were silly, he thought. Very comical, but friendly. I hope we can meet again soon.

He turned up the hood of his cloak over his head, the shadow it casted fell over everything but his mouth and chin. The mass of people twisted and turned with each moving person, looking impenetrable. Marcus slowly penetrated the mass, lightly bumping his way through to the other side. Once outside the market area, the rest of the city was practically empty. He made his way to the eastern gate, which exited to the wild lands.

Marcus’ journey was uneventful, mostly because everyone was at market, the rest because he was fairly intimidating in his cloak. He saw his destination, a two story wooden building with elaborate wood carvings set into its front support columns. A large golden knocker hung on the hand carved front door. Marcus raised it, slightly surprised with its weight, and hit the door three times. The door creaked open; the inside was dark and the air that flowed out was cool.

Marcus pushed the door open all of the way and stepped inside, closing it behind him. He saw a hallway lined with rooms that ended with a spiral staircase leading to the next floor. Marcus stepped up the stairs into a large candlelit chamber. Surrounded by candles was a small pillow, and in front of that was a statuette of the Huntress.

Marcus walked over to the pillow and stood before the candle circle. He unclasped his cloak and folded it, placing it on the ground outside the circle. He also untied the rope belt that cinched his tunic to his waist and coiled it next to the cloak. He took off his tunic and felt the mix of cool and hot air barrage his naked chest, then placed his tunic next to the rest of his clothes. Completely naked, Marcus kneeled down on the pillow with his back straight, closed his eyes and bowed his head.

He sat like that for a while until he heard footsteps on the stairs. Three people surrounded him in a triangle, one directly in front of him, the others placed equilaterally behind him. The one in front of him started chanting in a language he did not know, the two behind falling in with the first. The first one’s voice was higher pitched than the other two, and fairly gravelly, making her sound very aged.

She touched Marcus’ forehead with a finger soaked in warm oil and started drawing shapes and patterns. She continued drawing all the way to his pectoral muscles, covering his face, neck, and arms. The other two began their own work on his back as the first placed her palm on his hair and started chanting louder. Then, all at once, they stopped. Dead silence quickly fell in while the first’s hand was still placed firmly on his head.

The creak of wood broke the quiet as the sound of footsteps once again made their way up the staircase. The fourth person stopped behind the two behind him, making another equilateral triangle. The hand on his head quickly closed shut, grabbing a handful of hair, long nails digging into his head. She pulled up. Marcus’ scalp felt like it was going to be torn off, he could feel practically every single follicle and they felt like they were on fire. He rose with it, and once he stood out of practical reach of the first, she let go.

Marcus opened his eyes and saw the first, a small, wrinkled old lady adorned in white robes with a gold filigreed hem. He turned around to face the other elders, who were two equally aged men that were both slightly shorter than Marcus. The last one was a young woman whose face was hidden by the same hooded robe as the others and the golden hair that spilt out and fell about her bumped chest. Her arms were held at right angles with her palms straight out. A serrated dagger with a curved hilt laid in her hands. She slowly walked forward until she was directly between the two male elders.

Marcus grabbed the hilt of the blade, his fingertips lightly brushing her palms, electricity coursed through him. He took the blade and lightly cut a long thin line on his left palm. Blood welled up from the cut and gathered in his palm. When he was sure there was enough, Marcus smeared the blood all over the knife. When he was finished the knife was covered in a thin dark-red sheen. Then, briefly, it glowed in a white aura, which quickly turned to his own green color. The aura disappeared with a pop and when Marcus saw it again, all of the blood had disappeared. The woman pulled out a small leather sheath, which he took and stuck the knife into.

The elders and the woman walked back down the stairs leaving Marcus alone. he knelt back down in front of the statuette and murmured a short prayer then went to his stacked clothes. He put on the clothes without any real hurry, though he did feel warmer with them on. He continued to the stairs and made his way back down to the main floor.

At the end of the hallway was the woman. Her hood was pulled back revealing delicate, finely shaped features and large hazel eyes. A smirk graced her face making it look a little devious. She started a long, languid walk towards Marcus, who in return, walked forward as well. As the distance closed both sped up, walking quickly, very nearly a jog, into each others arms. Marcus gripped her tightly and inhaled, the thick scent of the sacred oils still embedded in both of them.

They briefly broke apart long enough to share a deep kiss that felt electric to Marcus. She broke the kiss and Marcus rested his forehead on hers. She sighed and worry creased her face.

“What’s wrong, Laina?” Marcus asked, her worry starting to spread to him as if by contact.

“Nothing,” she said as she took a step back, Marcus’ hands sliding into hers. “It’s just that I’m afraid,” her eyebrows creased as she looked at him with her big eyes.

“Afraid? For what?” He teased, lightly squeezing her hands.

“For you, you big idiot,” she teased back, punching him in the chest. Her eyes suddenly turned hard and it felt like she was staring into his soul. “I need you to come back in one piece. If you don’t, I… I just…”

Marcus shushed her before she could get herself worked up. “Hey, hey!” He implored, maneuvering his head to meet up with her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I can handle myself, Laina.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that this is so dangerously stupid,” her eyes softened, filling with worry once again. “My father be damned!” She squeezed hard enough to hurt his knuckles. “Why does he hate you so much that he’s making you do this?”

“Because I’m different,” Marcus said, his eyes drooping. “Because I’m not good enough to marry his daughter. Because he doesn’t think that I can do it.”

“I like different,” Laina pulled Marcus a little closer. “Now, I need to stop worrying and let you prove him wrong. Okay?”

“Alright,” He grinned. Laina smiled back, her eyes twinkled.

“Now go get ‘em,” she pulled him in for a quick kiss and started pushing him out of the door.

Marcus marched out of the door and down to the east gate, the sheathed knife firmly attached to his belt and hood drawn. The guards at the gate let him pass as they laboriously pushed open the large doors leading to the wild lands. Marcus was greeted with the sight of a large golden plain and past that, a dense forest. It was there he would find the feral dragon he would kill to pass this trial. For now though, he had to make the long trek to find it.

Comments

[NiXioX]

You diabolical genius. Putting Spartans right in the middle of everything. Well done indeed. I'm very interested to see how they fight against the Holy Griffin Empire. Very well done chapter, I eagerly await more.

-That Hooded Fella

[DarkZonker]

4541156 Thank you! I do have to ask though, how did you feel about the dialogue in this chapter? if anything dialogue is my weakest writing point

[YoungQuillMaster]

Here's a quick thing that I stumbled on.

Marionette looked down to the cloaked human, slowly registering the change in language.

When a person knows multiple languages well they don't 'slowly' register switches in language, in fact they usually flip from one to another in less than a second. Especially if the second language is your common business language then you can flip it on even faster.
But hey, it don't matter!

[DarkZonker]

4590302 Oh, okay. I'll change that to something a little more real. I've only taken two years of french that I didn't care about so I don't really know languages too well