Census

by The 24th Pegasus

Nimbus

19th Amber Skies, 380 AE

The sea now behind us, we embarked on an easterly course to the city of Nimbus. Gone now was any semblance of the Cirra that I knew, the Cirra of Stratopolis and the west. The further east we flew, the more rugged the terrain became, and perhaps not coincidentally, the more hardened the pegasi. The comforts and easy life that so many enjoyed in the Empire began to bleed away, only to be replaced by the hardships of the frontier. For to survive here, a pegasus must be as unyielding as the very earth which they work.

The land surrounding Nimbus is heavily forested and rugged, with rocky hills and deep ravines all hidden beneath the canopy of the trees. Large settlements quite literally carved their mark into the earth, slicing down hundreds of trees to make room for their growing populations and selling the timber to the rest of Cirra. We would stop in these small towns for the night, collecting the required census data as well as filling our bellies with forest greens, berries, and the meat of the hunt, which was largely rabbit and pheasant [1]. It made for a fine feast, as far as the local hospitality could afford us. It was a pleasant enough experience, and we all found ways to make the most of our time en route to Nimbus. My dearest Electri spent much time exchanging gossip and recipes with the mothers of these small villages; it seems that even so far removed from the grand comforts of Stratopolis, a woman’s instincts remain unchanged. It is only my hope that I can sample the fruits of my wife’s labors when we return to Stratopolis, if they are anything like the food we tasted out here, though I expect them to be far better when perfused with the love of such a caring mare, and the resources that come with being married to a senator that the ponies here could scarcely afford.

[1]: Though it seems disgusting to us nowadays, Cirran pegasi supplemented their diets with meat, as was clearly explained in the previous installment when Aureus mentioned the grand fisheries of Tonitri and Fulgur. I add this footnote here because of the specific mention of pheasant meat, as there are still many pegasi that eat fish casually and without a second thought, though very few today would be willing to eat the flesh of other animals that walk the earth as we do. It was the Cirran belief that the consumption of meat led to the development of strong muscles fit for a warrior, but the pony anatomy is not well suited for extracting nutrients from such a food source. It is likely that the pegasi became so reliant and accepting of omnivory as a necessity; with no earth ponies to grow their food for them, their farms yielded very little product, at least in comparison to the earth ponies, and grass is a poor substitute for an army on the move.

I seized the opportunity to take my sons hunting when it became clear to me that one of the towns we had stopped in would not be delivering its census data to me until the following morning, on account of local incompetence and lack of organization. I have already written a letter to the Senate suggesting that an additional tax be levied on the town for interfering with the duties assigned to my office due to their negligence, but I digress. We were escorted into the forest by two locals and given spears with which we would hope to catch pheasants, as the villages do not go hunting by bow or javelin as the communities in the west do. From there, we were instructed in how to properly hunt pheasant. The trick is to stick to the treetops as best as you can and try to approach the birds from behind, dropping on them and impaling them before they can run or fly away. This requires a lightness of hoof that these ponies seemed to be naturals for, but which eluded me and my sons. Our attempts to sneak up on the birds always seemed to end in their escape before we could get within striking range. Indeed, the closest any of us got was Solidus’ frustrated toss of his spear at a fleeing pheasant, which nearly struck the bird before it became embedded in the soil. At the very least, I had the excuse of age to blame my failures on.

For their part, the locals were very amused to show us up, each managing three pheasants apiece. That they insisted we carry and clean their haul for them rankled no small number of feathers on my part, but it did serve to at least let my sons learn something from our adventure. After all, what good is hunting if you cannot do the cleaning that follows?

In the end, I think my wife ended up the best out of us. She certainly seemed to enjoy the serenity of the woods, especially with some time to spare herself from us stallions that surround her day after day. Blessed is a mare’s patience, for such is a virtue of a good wife.

We made another stop on our way to Nimbus at Lake Trasimare, which I mentioned in my previous entry was a source of contention between Nimbus and the Twin Cities during the tribal era of the pegasi. Apart from rainclouds, Trasimare provides most of the water to Nimbus and the surrounding settlements, and is also an important source for freshwater fish, coveted by the warriors of Nimbus for developing and honing their muscles and hearts for the conflict with the griffons they have become so accustomed to over the years. While we were there, we toured some of the old battlefields of this war, including the infamous ‘Helm’s Ditch’, where the helmets of thousands of Twin City pegasi that fell in battle have been dumped into an open ditch in the earth, a marker of the decisive Nimban victory that won them the lake, and an open warning to any that would dare stand against Nimbus. The crowns of the kings who ruled before King Ictus and Queen Reverentia were also prominently displayed here, and the Twin Cities saw the monument as an insult to their legacy for many years. Only when Nimbus was vanquished in the Social War, and the crown of Queen Sleeting Rain was displayed alongside those of the Twin Cities’ former rulers did they finally find justice [2].

[2]: From what records we do have, the Social War was an armed conflict that took place within the Empire in 271 AE. Numerous cities turned on Stratopolis and the Senate and began fighting for greater autonomy and concessions from the Cirran government following the devastating Talon War with the griffons from 245 - 268 AE. While Cirra won that war, it was not without heavy cost to the easternmost cities, which were left devastated and destitute, and received little aid or sympathy from the untouched western cities such as Stratopolis and Pileus. Among the cities leading the independence movement was Nimbus, which had suffered the greatest loss of life of all the cities that participated in the 23 year war. The war was only ended when loyalist forces, including those from the Twin Cities, slaughtered the outnumbered Nimban militia at Lake Trasimare, who refused to make peace and instead opted to die for their cause. But dead soldiers aren’t all that useful to a cause, and a dead queen even more so. Queen Sleeting Rain was slain alongside her soldiers, and the Rain dynasty was forced to abdicate the throne in punishment for their treachery; however, they were restored four years later by the Senate to appease the growing resentment in Nimbus before another war could break out. In the years following, Sleeting Rain was seen as a martyr figure for the Nimban people, a ruler willing to go to extreme lengths to protect Nimbus, even if that meant staring down an army that outnumbered hers ten to one.

But it would seem that my family had had enough of water for the time being with the northern coast still fresh in our minds, so we only stayed at the lake for a day to collect census data from the many small towns that surrounded it before pressing onwards to Nimbus. I’m certain that, come another year, I might return to the lake for a peaceful vacation from the hectic activity of Senate politics. Even if my sons have become absorbed into their careers by then, the privacy would not go unappreciated by my wife and I. I’m sure we could make much of it.

With Trasimare behind us, we began to ascend once more, for Nimbus at least had the decency to be like other Cirran cities and stick to the skies rather than mire itself on the ground, where the Nimbans spend much of their attention anyway. The city was easy enough to spot at a distance, especially given that it was perched higher in the atmosphere than most pegasus cities traditionally are placed. Two of my lictors had visited Nimbus before as escorts to other senators, and they informed me that the city is placed so high in the sky so that they may keep a better watch on the surrounding countryside in case of griffon aggression. Though with the griffons finally subdued, and a suitable buffer state erected between Cirra and Gryphus proper, I began to wonder whether the Nimbans would ever lower their city to a more comfortable altitude. Of course, they may also have become so used to the high altitude chill that doing so would be uncomfortable for them, but I digress.

The point I make is that we could see Nimbus long before we ever arrived, and as soon as we had flown close enough for their sentries to notice the Emperor’s seal on our carriage, a wing of Nimban soldiers was dispatched to escort us into the city proper with the welcoming we deserved, or as much as the Nimbans were willing to provide. Indeed, it seemed that my lictors, being ponies concerned with arms and battle, received a warmer welcome from the Nimbans than we did. I had heard it said before in the Senate that the Nimbans value the common soldier over the shrewd politician any day. I now found the reasoning behind such rumors, and I can confirm that they are true.

That is not to say that we were treated unfairly. Nimbans, proud as they may be, still respect the authority of imperium, and as a censor I carried much with me. We were hastily brought to the grand palace of Nimbus for a formal reception, where the damage to the city was the least. Indeed, as I looked out my window, I could see the city still struggling to get back on its hooves. Nimbus had been bypassed and besieged for nearly a year as the griffon hordes struck deep into the heartland to eliminate our food stores and tie up our legions far from their borders, and assaults on the city to weaken the defenders’ morale and overrun fortifications were common. Despite that, I think the Nimbans reveled in the hardships and combat foisted upon them, for I have heard it said that morale never reached the breaking point during the long siege. I suppose we have to thank the tactical brilliance of Commander Thunder Gale, who led the defense of the city, for holding out as long as he did. Still, despite him being their ultimate champion, the Nimbans are too proud to admit that a pony other than their beloved Winter Rain was responsible for their continued survival, especially when that pony was a westerner from Stratopolis.

When we arrived at the palace, which bore very few scars from siege weaponry unlike the buildings closer to the city’s walls, we were greeted by the monarch himself. Winter is certainly a stallion of remarkable presence. While not the tallest, and certainly not the biggest, the stallion still carries considerable power about him, strength honed from a lifetime of fighting griffons. I had no doubt that he was stronger than he appeared, and he appeared very strong. His white coat is covered in healing scars, a testament to his time at the front, and the only color on his body comes from his blue mane. He wears his confidence and experience about him like a cloak, and it’s easy to see why his subjects are so infatuated with him. The name of the legendary Rain dynasty only cements the respect he commands.

He did not arrive alone, for he also brought his wife and son with him, along with an honor guard of royal hoplites. His son, Steel, bears a striking resemblance to his father, and though he is only six years of age, already carries himself with a proper warrior’s discipline. Grooming to take over the throne starts at a young age in Nimbus, for the city cannot afford to have a weak ruler [3].

[3]: While Steel Rain was the only one of Winter’s children alive at the time, Winter’s successor, Iron Rain, would be born two years later. While Steel was originally supposed to succeed their father, he was killed defending his younger sister from griffons during an ambush on her agoge, or her right of passage.

I found Winter’s wife, Xiphos, more interesting, although not for her looks, which, while certainly athletic and betrayed a youthful vigor underneath her stern, almost stoic front, were lacking compared to my own wife. What was interesting to note was her resemblance to Gold Feather’s wife, Aspis [4]. I was familiar with the family of Augustus Haysar’s right hoof, as were all of us in the Senate from all the times the Emperor and his entourage visit us, and I could clearly see the similarities between them. I would find out from later conversations to soothe my curiosity that Winter’s wife was indeed a twin sister to Aspis. How amusing that two mares nearly identical in appearance and behavior could find themselves perched high atop the dynasties of two different reigns. Amusingly, Xiphos did admit that she was sometimes irritated by her younger sister (younger being a loose term here, as they were born minutes apart) technically being her superior with how closely she was positioned to the Emperor.

[4]: Imperator Gold Feather served as a second in command to Emperor Augustus, and his daughter was Swift Spear, who eventually became Commander Hurricane’s first wife. Aspis and her sister, Xiphos, were said to be troublesome twins, with their fair share of adventure across Dioda before they landed as wives to two of the most powerful stallions in the Empire. It’s interesting that by this line of blood, Hurricane’s family, the Stormblades, were more closely related to the Rains than many Nimban pegasi following the destruction of the Empire and the subsequent rebuilding in the Compact Lands.

We were treated to a tour of the Nimban palace, which is very small compared to the grandeur of the Cirran palace, and hardly larger than the average senator’s villa. This palace is the latest in a string of razed and rebuilt palaces, although this one has had the fortune to stand for a little more than two centuries. In true Nimban style, the palace is devoid of most ornate embellishments and decorations that traditionally describe a palace, and was designed with functionality in mind. The palace has just enough rooms to house the royal family, servants, and honored guests, and an entire wing is dedicated as a barracks for the royal hoplites that protect Lord Rain. The palace is also designed to frustrate and thwart any assault launched upon it by griffon armies, with strategic choke points and long hallways that a Nimban pike phalanx could hold against vastly superior enemy numbers. In comparison to the keep in Pileus, the defenses of the Nimban palace are simple, but undoubtedly just as effective; where the Pileans relied on cunning and machinery to defend their palace, the Nimbans were content to rely on the strength of their warriors.

After weeks of luxury and relative comfort while traveling, I believe my wife and sons were disappointed by the modest accommodations that we were given in the palace. We were given two rooms, one for me and my wife, and another for my sons, with firm bedding and little in the way of comforts. My wife was the most distraught at our arrangement, for there was not a suitable station for her to beautify herself in the mornings and indulge her well-deserved vanity. I put a request to Winter to help alleviate some of her concerns, and he had some hoofmaidens assigned to our room to help her feel more comfortable. Although Nimbans might not understand modern comforts and luxury, Winter has dealt with enough senators to know that we in the west expect such things. Though it might make the ponies of Nimbus seem droll and unrefined by our standards, it is simply a way of life for the city. They have never been ones to concern themselves with frivolous things such as material comforts. The only things they value are duty and honor, and of course, skill in combat.

I was pleased to meet an old friend of mine from our time in the Senate during my stay in Nimbus. Senator Dicentis Celsus, who has become something of a storm upon the debate floor in the recent years, happened to be in his hometown while my office took me here. I confess a fondness for the younger senator, as he learned under my guidance when he was newly elected to the Senate, and I had taken him under my wing when I realized that we shared many of our views and opinions. Though he still thinks and acts like a young soldier fighting alongside his Lord, he has become better in recent years, and has started to display a shrewdness in politics that is so often lacking from many of the other five hundred senators. If I were to put a feather on what it is that makes him seem so aspiring, I would say common sense, but as anypony who has dabbled in politics knows, common sense is hardly common.

Not only did I meet Dicentis, but I also had the fortune to meet his little daughter, Summer. At the time of this writing, she was little more than a year old. She showed a fondness for her father that was highly amusing, as she became upset whenever he moved out of her sight, and her natural place was occupying his back between his wings. Although she didn’t like being held by other ponies, myself included, the foal had a remarkable interest in the drilling of the royal hoplites near the palace. I have no doubt that one day she will become a legendary warrior forging her mark in the history books, as all Nimban children aspire to be.

Much of our discussion lingered on our family lives, for Dicentis was naturally very proud of the new spark of life he and his wife had brought into the world, but eventually we moved onto politics, especially his notable absence from most of the Senate sessions since the end of the war. His daughter’s ironclad attachment to him as well as his wife’s lingering sickness were why he had been absent from Senate politics for much of the previous year, although he expressed hope that he’d be able to return come the following spring. I assured him that I was doing what I could to make his position in the Senate unassailable during his absence, which was thankfully not a difficult task on my part; while we all had our rivals, Dicentis included, few would be willing or able to muster enough support to spite him out of his seat while he was singlehoofedly caring for a sick wife and dependent daughter. There are politics, and then there are petty struggles. As Cirran senators, we did our jobs first before concerning ourselves with our rivals [5].

[5]: Though things were better in the time of the Haysars due to the impressive amount of control and influence they wielded over the Senate, having five hundred politicians trying to curry favor and appointments that would grant them imperium from the emperor and consuls frequently ground Cirran politics to deadlock in times past. To reference the Talon and Social Wars one more time, both conflicts started because of incredibly factionalized deadlock in the senate house that would result in laws being repealed by one faction a year after they were passed by another. The tumult and instability that afflicted Cirra during the 3rd century AE can be attributed to bickering senators and weak emperors, who couldn’t agree on a solution to the empire’s problems while the land burned around them. If the Talon War hadn’t forced the senators to set aside their differences to protect Cirra from a griffon invasion, the empire likely would have shattered much sooner than it ultimately did.

However, I did not journey to Nimbus to speak with old friends, so I shall return my attentions to the purpose of my visit. I noted a sharp decline in the city’s population, easily attributed to the High Noon War we just so recently concluded. When the last census was taken five years ago, the city and surrounding villages had a population of 267,000. When I compiled the census data I collected over the past week, my final tally was about 212,000. Roughly one in every five Nimban pegasi died in the war, with the majority of deaths coming from frontier settlements that were simply erased in the conflict, on top of all the soldiers that gave their lives defending the city from the griffon onslaught. By referencing missing records versus the data collected five years ago, I found that 17 towns with populations over 1,000 had been completely destroyed, their inhabitants murdered down to the last soul. These atrocities are barbaric and unthinkable. I will be submitting my findings to the Emperor and the Senate so that we may decide how to punish the hybrids for these crimes once my census is complete.

Still, I did note that as I flew around the city, almost every mare I saw that was still in her prime was already heavy with foal. I expect in the next year or two, Nimbus will see a massive boom in population. It seems that the Nimbans celebrated the end of the war much more enthusiastically than the rest of Cirra.

The city itself has as much character as its inhabitants, and is indeed a city that only a Nimban could love. There is scarcely much in the way of decoration or creative architecture, and the colorful flourishes of Startopolis’ rainbow waterfalls or decorative and intricate gold leafing on its grandest buildings are entirely absent here. Artists and other skilled craftsponies would do poorly in the city, as the Nimbans are not keen to spend their money on any form of art that is not both practical and somehow centered around war and fighting. For example, one of the most decorative pieces of furniture I saw in the entire Nimban palace was the personal weapon rack of Lord Winter, crafted from steel and bronze with intricate carvings that must have taken many, many days to complete.

Still, the Nimbans are not without their decorative flourishes. When they marry, they exchange ceremonial (though still exceptionally sharp) daggers with their spouse, as a symbol of protection. I had become familiar with the dagger Dicentis always carried on his person, the gift his wife gave him, and when walking the streets of Nimbus, it looked like almost every adult I saw was armed with a dagger given to them by their husband or wife. The tradition is said to have started with the first Rain, who was given a dagger by her lover to protect herself with when he went off to war. Though he never returned, she used the knife in his memory, claiming vengeance for his death and eventually giving it to a new husband she married once she had claimed the throne of Nimbus for herself. It would seem that even some of the oldest displays of love and affection in Nimbus carry with them the legacy of war and death.

The Nimbans also have a curious fascination with the wounds of war. They consider battle scarring to their homes and property an improvement rather than a detriment, so long as the damage does not compromise the integrity of the structure or make it uncomfortable to live in. I passed by innumerous houses that had open holes in their walls instead of windows, and roof tiles that had been cracked and shattered from bodies landing on them. Even the north of the city is immaculately preserved and protected, as all that stands there are the ruins of the first city of Nimbus when it was sacked by griffons almost seven hundred years ago, decades before the first Rain slaughtered her way to the top of the throne and installed her dynasty.

I was merely thankful that there weren’t any holes in the palace. Property values are a secondary concern on a structure such as that, and it becomes harder to defend from attack if there are gaping wounds in the walls of the building.

The pegasi of Nimbus themselves are fair, if rough around the edges. If you are a legionary on duty, you can expect to be stopped multiple times with salutes and even small gifts of food and drink as you go about your tasks. In Nimbus, a pony’s character is judged more by the number of griffons killed than anything else, and the bonds of soldiers run deep in the population. They have little patience for politicians, so I found myself receiving tepid welcomes at the worst of times from guards on duty. Still, they recognized the service that I am doing for our Empire, so they treated me and my family with respect, if not necessarily opening their wings in friendship.

The large majority of the male population (and almost all of the young and single female population) of Nimbus is enrolled in their famed militia. I have found the name to be somewhat misleading, as they are less of a militia and more of a professional fighting force that can be rallied in an instant in times of crisis. Service in the militia is not required by law, but is mandatory nonetheless if one wants to navigate Nimban society and advance up the ladder to a higher station in life. The militia offers training for colts and fillies from the age of six onwards, culminating in their right of passage, agoge, where they must survive in the wilderness on their own for as much as a week before being allowed to return home [6]. In days long since past, these young Nimbans, who were only 15 at the time, would be expected to kill a griffon and bring its head back as proof of their victory, but the tradition has faded over time as the expansion of Nimban territory has simply pushed the griffons further and further away from the city. Nowadays, the hope is that if a Nimban can survive on their own in the wild with manticores and other sorts of dangerous wildlife, they will be ready to fight for Nimbus when it is demanded of them.

[6]: Presumably, this formal training also encompassed what schooling the Nimbans received, such as how to read and write, as there are no other references to formal institutions like what could be found in Stratopolis, and given Nimbus’ hatred towards griffons it seems likely that pedagogues, or learned slaves who served as tutors for their master’s young, would have been virtually nonexistent.

As honored guests from Stratopolis, we were treated to a show on the Nimban parade grounds. This show consisted of different veterans and Nimban gladiators demonstrating their skills before us in single or paired combat, only stopping when one had thoroughly thrashed their opponent, and further struggling would only result in serious injury or the death of one involved. It was an impressive display, and I did find myself entertained throughout as Nimbans fought with everything from sword and wingblades to spear and shield. I was surprised when Lord Rain himself made an appearance on the field and soundly beat the five opponents he chose to spar against into submission. Though he was a stallion past his prime, he had yet to reach the age where muscle and mind decay, and his experience more than made up for the youthful vigor his opponents displayed.

I also had my doubts that the young soldiers who were chosen to fight against him really wanted to win. Beating and bloodying your lord is never an option that sits easily with loyal subjects, for fear of what reprisals might come in response. Even though Lord Winter is almost universally beloved by the pegasi of Nimbus, there are those who would take a perceived affront to his honor as a grave insult and seek to settle matters with their own hooves.

Still, the affair was bloody, if not damaging or deadly. While none were seriously hurt, several pegasi suffered broken noses or sprained limbs over the course of the sparring. My poor wife was upset by the violence, and sought to excuse herself partway through a particularly nasty melee. I will not deny that the contempt several nearby Nimban mares and wives scorned her with behind her back as she left threatened to rouse me into a cold fury, but thankfully Xiphos, who was seated at our side while her husband fought, was mindful of my temperament and appropriately reprimanded the mares for their behavior. I would find the same mares apologizing to my confused wife later that day, much to my amusement. It is something I noted as particularly comedic; the Nimbans place so much pride on their honor that the mere threat of perceiving their actions as dishonorable behavior is enough to cause them to reverse their current course and seek to make amends with the offended party, especially if they are a superior, like Xiphos. As the Nimbans are fond of quoting, the first Rain, Katagismos, often said that, “I love the name of honor, more than I fear death.” The great Roamulus had a different opinion: “Honor is like a match; you can only use it once, and its burns are self-inflicted” [7]. Considering which of our two dynasties rules as Emperor of Cirra, I find myself having trouble believing like the Nimbans do that honor is the end all, be all to our lives.

[7]: Whether or not Roamulus actually said this is a matter of some debate, as the earliest reference to this quote that we can find dates to 189 AE. In the ongoing rivalry between Stratopolis and Nimbus, which never really died despite the formation of a unified empire, this seems to be more of a barb invented by the western pegasi to irritate their eastern brethren.

After a week in Nimbus, it became time to move on again, much to the disappointment of my sons, who had become transfixed with the warrior culture of the city during our brief stay. Much like how we entered, we left under the accompanyment of an honor guard of royal hoplites, at least until we reached the city’s borders, at which point they broke off and returned to the palace in impressive formation. From here, it will be little more than a day’s flight from Nimbus to the border, and then on to Hengstead, the first of the Empire’s new holdings we will be visiting. My wife is hesitant about traveling to griffon lands, and I am hesitant about bringing my family along as well, but this is what my lictors are for. All of them are veterans of wars past, and I will place my life in their hooves. At the very least, we will be stopping in the lands of the Canii first, loyal griffons who sided with the Empire instead of attacking us during the High Noon War. In their lands, we will have little to fear, and it should serve as the perfect opportunity to expose my sons to civilized hybrids before visiting their more barbaric brethren.

Comments

[RoboRed]

Nimbans are cool. Trufax.

[Themaskedferret]

Very intriguing, I look forward to more.

[The 24th Pegasus]

7393452
I find it amusing that you started with the supplementary story to my main series instead of the other way around (though I am doing some edits for the fic this one is a supplement for to remove some generally dumb writing that I've left in it for so long).

[Themaskedferret]

7393643 The first thing I read was Cadance and her amazing laser-powers thank you very much. i'm just making up for lost time. and your main series doesn't interest me >.<

[Sunnyblam]

Ahh, Nimbus. Site of the most ferocious clash of armies I have ever imagined/seen. (In 25 or so years.)