Chapter 5: The Storm's Front
“According to a census performed from 985 to 990 on the Federated Kingdom of Owlstria’s pony population -excluding those living within autonomous enclaves or contested territories-, approximately 35% claimed of being of Roan descent, while 43% could be traced back to a certain Equestrian’s one.
However, if the data from each state are examined singularly, areas such as Manelan and Talonviste present a concentration of ponies of confirmed Equestrian descent as high as 86%.
Given that both states are landlocked, and that immigration alone is not enough to justify such high numbers, as of now there’s no valid explanation on how these ponies arrived in Gryphus.”
-An extract from “A Brief and Comprehensive History of Ponykind in the World”, by Twilight Sparkle.
Marediterranean Sea,
About 400 nautical miles north of Akhri,
Two days later…
“What do you mean that you missed it?” Captain Lars Redbeak all but growled. “By Talos’s blood, you’re a pegasus! You’re not supposed to miss that!”
Standing right before him, the green coated mare was trying her best to keep her wings from twitching nervously.
“I swear, skipper, that was not there five minutes ago!” She gestured with a hoof at one of the bridge’s windows, aiming towards the distant horizon.
The griffon merely scowled at her but said nothing more. He picked up the binoculars by his side and trained them westward, towards the source of the problem, a towering mass of pitch-black clouds that was slowly closing on his ship.
The RMS Calypso was a black-and-blue hulled, white-decked liner, her bow ploughing through the waves crashing into her sides, and she visibly bobbed and swayed in her course.
The weather had been unusually clement though, or at least as clement as it could be expected from that time of the year, with only a few scattered, innocent-looking white clouds drifting lazily in an otherwise clear blue sky.
Her crossing had been going smoothly up to that point, with the two-stacked cruise ship moving onto the same course she had been following for the last four months, more or less when the Owlstrian Navy had requisitioned her for auxiliary duties.
Redbeak had of course been furious about it back then, voicing loudly complaints to his superiors in the Green Waters Company, but to no avail. The Calypso had consequently found herself with a skeleton crew, filled to the brim with military supplies, and sent to Akhri.
He grunted to himself. At least those pig-heads had had the decency to give him and his crew an extra, as meagre as that was. Still, it was but a small consolation in seeing his precious ship, which had been carrying passengers throughout the vast oceans just some months prior, being treated as a mere cargo.
Redbeak lowered the binoculars and turned his glare back towards the mare. “Really? Oh, such a shame! And here I though meteorology was your special talent or something.”
Third Officer Swift Gale frowned at him. “It’s weather-forging!” she hissed, pointing with a wing’s tip at her flank. Her cutie-mark, a bright and yellow sun covered by a snow-white cloud, was in stark contrast with her green coat.
“Yeah, well, I don’t see you forging anything around here, Swift.”
“Hey! I thought that was my speciality!” Zot, a zebra stallion, chimed in from his seat near the radio apparatus. That quickly earned a round of general laughter coming from the rest of the bridge. Swift Gale’s answer to him was a deep frown.
Even Redbeak found himself chuckling, before shaking his head in amusement.
Equestrians.
No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not understand their obsession with cutie marks. And he knew a lot of ponies back home.
He shrugged. In Owlstria, cutie marks weren’t all that big of a deal. Ponies got a pretty picture on their flank as they grew up and that was it. Granted, they could be a nice talking point, but it never went beyond that, and it certainly wasn’t a life-shaping matter!
Then again, he was a griffon. Maybe for him was different. He shook those speculations out of his mind and moved towards more urgent matters.
“Hey, Kutlay!” Redbeak called out at his First Officer. “Do me a favour and give me some detail on that storm, will you.” There was no answer.
“Kutlay!”
First Officer Kutlay Brownfeather was standing nearby, peering through his own pair of binoculars. He shot Redbeak a sidelong glance. “Uh? Sorry skipper, I wasn’t listening.” He then picked up a few sheets of paper with a claw and began to scribble down some notes.
“The squall, Kutlay” He gestured at it with a thumb. He did not bother to hide his annoyance. “Can you tell me if it’s going to intercept our course, yes or no?”
The griffon shook his head. “Hard to tell right now. What I can tell you though, is that’s weird.”
“How so?”
“Well, for a start, the meteorological bulletin for the day said nothing about it. Granted, they’re not all that accurate, but some creature must have made a big blunder if they missed that.” He paused. “Also, doesn’t it seems a bit too localized to you?”
Redbeak was about to ask to what it meant by that, when a realization struck him. He quickly picked up the binoculars again and peered at the storm. And the more it looked at it, the more he realized that Brownfeather was right. It did look weird.
He tried to make some mental calculations and found himself frowning. Even from this distance, Redbeak was sure that that the stormfront was barely a klick in diameter, but that was simply impossible.
He’d been at sea for the better part of two decades and never in his career he had seen a storm that small. For Talos’s sake, he did not even think a thing like that was possible, except for pegasi maybe.
Redbeak stared at it for a few more seconds, as the black mass kept rolling towards the Calypso, broken only by the sporadic flash of lighting. Something was definitely off.
He turned to the pegasus mare. “Swift, check our instruments and warn me if the wind starts picking up. And Zot?”
“Aye, captain?”
“Check on the radio. See if you pick up something.”
The black-and-white stripped stallion shot him a quizzical look. “Something, skipper? Like other ships?”
“That too, but keep an ear open for anything. For all we know, we have stumbled on one of those weather team’s training sessions, and no pony thought about signalling it properly.”
Zot nodded and went to work. A moment later and he had already his headset on, checking the radio waves for any unusual signal.
Redbeak grinned in satisfaction. He liked the stallion; he worked hard and had a good sense of humour. He might not have been Owlstrian, but barely any creature on board the Calypso was in the first place. Of course, none of them happened to be an escaped slave, whisked away and to safety by the Freedom Trail.
As far as the griffon knew, Zot still kept his contact with the organization, and once in a while the Calypso’s crew had found themselves with an extra crew member or two, which would inevitably disappear once reaching the shore.
It was a cruise ship after all, and checking crew, cargo and passengers would take a long time, without counting all the hiding spots. Not that those sphinxes didn’t try anyway.
Half an hour later, Redbeak sank in his captain chair with a tired sigh, ready to write that curious storm as the only exciting thing of the day.
First Officer Brownfeather was confident in their ship capacity to stay ahead of it, but he had drawn some adjustments in their course just in case. Even if it was to reach them though, Redbeak doubted it would cause any real delay on their timetable due to its small size.
Speaking of weather, Swift Gale had come back and reported it to be clear and holding so far, with no major disturbance in sight.
That left the radio, which had remained mostly silent except for a few stray signals, too weak to be heard. Eventually, Redbeak told Zot to go and get some rest, much to the stallion’s relief. Another crew member was supposed to take over in five minutes anyway.
The RMS Calypso kept her steady course towards Akhri, her arrival scheduled for the next day in the early morning. None of the creatures on her bridge noticed that the stormfront tailing them was picking up speed.
Akhri,
Late afternoon…
“Psametik, my dear, you must absolutely try the salmon,” Zaliki Dey said. As if to emphasize the point, she jammed a fork into the fish’s orange meat and took another bite out of it. “So soft and sweet. It’s to die for, wouldn’t you agree?”
As a matter of fact, Psametik Scavon would not. Putting aside that the flavour would stick to his mouth for hours after a meal, he had always found its sweetness not all that appealing.
“I didn’t know that, Matriarch Dey,” he answered instead. “I’ll make sure to ask for one too the next time.”
The sphinxess smiled politely. “You’re welcome. And please, just call me Zaliki. Let’s leave titles for more formal occasions.”
He nodded. “As you wish then, Zaliki.” He took a sip of red wine from his glass, letting it slide down his throat with a pleased sigh. That Abyssinian wine was getting harder to find on the market, but by the Twenty, it was worth every single lira.
Had any sphinx come to him just a few months before and said that he would have found himself sitting for a dinner with Clan Dey’s matriarch, Psametik would have surely called him mad. And then he would have summoned his wardens to get said idiot out of his sight.
Look at him now though, enjoying a fine dinner with the most attracting -and dangerous- sphinxess in Akhri, maybe even in the whole Republic, whose clan had been Psametik’s most fiery opponent.
His father was probably doubling over in the grave right now.
He frowned. Alright, maybe that was a bit of a hyperbole. The Scavon and Dey Clan didn’t hate each other that much; they’d just happened to have some disagreements that had sometimes turned into extremely violent and bloody feuds.
But that was in the past, and things had changed a lot in the last twenty years. Now they both hold a big chunk of seats within Akhri’s Grand Assembly, and it was only logical for them to engage with one another, especially when considering that they could count on a discreet majority when put together.
That was in theory. In practice, the two clans had simply brought their struggle somewhere else- within the Assembly’s chamber- and kept it going from there. Until now.
Psametik took a peek at his surroundings. The restaurant owner was an old family friend and he had been so kind to reserve the roof terrace for the two of them, a bit excessive under normal circumstances.
They were not the only occupants though, as both Psametik and Zaliki had found prudent to bring along a small escort of clan wardens; therefore, they were now dining surrounded by ten heavily armed sphinxes, seating around and some distance away from their table.
Things had gone quite smoothly so far though, and the sphinxes contented themselves with keeping a watch on their respective clan leader, as well as throwing suspicious glances towards their counterparts once in a while.
Even Zenbios, an older, grizzly-looking sphinx seated at a nearby table, seemed a lot less bothered from the whole situation than Psametik had initially feared, letting the saw-off shotgun he was carrying rest in his lap.
Their presence did not seem to faze Zaliki one bit. The sphinxess could probably dine in a chimera’s lair and still have a perfectly good and quiet meal.
A few minutes of silence passed as both sphinxes enjoyed their food, the only sound coming from the faint rattling of cutlery. From the terrace, the setting sun could be seen slowly but steadily itching out of view westward, its course partially concealed by Akhri’s white and sand-yellow tenements. The first evening’s darkness crept on from the opposite direction.
There was obviously the bustle of the city coming from the streets below, but it was easy to gloss over it. Eventually, the waiters came along to quietly light the lanterns arranged along the balcony’s edge.
“Delicious. Absolutely delicious.” Zaliki picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth’s corners clean. “And to think this place has always been here and I didn’t know about it! You truly are full of surprises, Psametik.”
“Surprises?”
She nodded. “Indeed. First at the Grand Assembly, and now this.” She waved a paw to their surroundings before chuckling. “If politics were not involved, I would almost suspect that you’re courting me.”
Psametik had to kept himself from choking on his glass of wine. He forced his mouth to form a casual smile. “I’m confident that such rumour is already running wild,” he said. “It’ll go in the pile with the rest.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she agreed. “Just as I’m sure that many within my own party would absolutely love to jump at the occasion.” Her tone turned suddenly more serious, something that did not escaped Psametik’s notice. “Just wait a few days and those jackals will claim that we’re sleeping together.”
He blinked, glancing up at her. Zaliki was an attracting sphinxess, there was not denying it; her short, well-groomed coat made her alluring and round form even more evident to the eye.
A long, brown mane was arranged in one single braid, resting on her left shoulder, while a golden collar stood out on her neck, with a set of three, deep purple amethysts nestled on its front.
“I take from your words that you don’t trust your deputies, then?” he asked, trying as best as he could not to stare.
The sphinxess flashed him a grin. “Oh, you can’t believe how much I envy you, my dear! At least those in your block see things the same way as you do, most of the times.”
She sighed in annoyance. “Meanwhile, I’ve got to whip my own in line every day. And even then, there’s always the chance that those pesky landowners will bite my hand anyway.” Zaliki shook her head in frustration. “I swear, sometimes I really feel like I’m surrounded by a bunch of petulant pups.”
Psametik remained silent. He wanted to let the venomous remark forming in in his mouth free, but choose instead to wisely drown it with another sip from his glass.
He himself had been locked in a bitter stalemate with the Nilus landowners for the last years; they were the main reason why his multiple attempts at passing any slavery reform had been shot dead on the spot. It made sense -from their perspective at least-, as they owned most of the slaves within the Republic.
It wouldn’t have been a problem had they been voting alone, as Psametik’s block was twice as big as theirs. Sadly, they sat in the Assembly with Clan Dey’s political party, which automatically gave them a majority. The current Archon, Siuk Tlion, had come from their ranks.
“From the way you talk about, it sounds as if you’d be better off without them.”
“You’re a shrewd politician, aren’t you?” Her smile only broadened. She knew exactly where he was going, and Psametik would have expected nothing less from her.
“I’ll admit that you’ve surprised me back at the Grand Assembly. After all, every creature thought you as the most favourable towards Owlstria, so much that Siuk was certain you would have voted against our proposal.” She chuckled. “You should have seen his face! I swear, he was about to have a stroke!”
Psametik shrugged. “My main concern has always been for Akhri’s safety, Zaliki. Owlstria might have been the best way to assure our independence, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to exchange a set of chain for the another.”
That had meant cutting bridges with Lady Honour Bound on the vote’s eve, a choice that he still wasn’t totally comfortable with. It was clear though that the Ambassador was acting pretty much alone, with the Owlstrian government showing increasing disinterest towards the whole Sphigyptian venture. She kept assuring him that things would change after next year’s election, but Psametik had his doubt about that.
Of course, the motion passed but a few days before had been hardly a game changer per se; the subject matter was limited to the expansion of Akhri’s meagre fleet through the purchase of some outdated ship models.
The Scavon and Dey Clan had voted together for the first time though, to the surprise of the whole Assembly, and rumour were running wild already. If they were to join forces, as it appeared likely, they would dominate the Grand Assembly in the years to come. It was of course unconceivable that the Scavons and Deys could actually find a common goal, but that didn’t stop the sphinxes from talking about it.
Besides, the vote seemed to have shaken a few things up. Thebanus had predictably protested, denounced the aggressive action, and promised an answer in due time. That had in turn caused the Owlstrian to hastily press the backpedal on their withdrawal for the time being. There were probably going to be a few border skirmishes in the next month, but not much else.
“At least we agree on something then,” Zaliki noted. “But I cannot help myself from wondering if this is just another attempt on your part to pass that slavery reform.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And it would be that bad?” He quickly added, “The slave caravans from the Zebra’s Heartlands are getting scarcer by the day, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Seems to me that’s time to move away from the old ways.”
“The reform alone may not be that bad,” she said with a frown, “but you’ve insisted on pairing it with an extension of citizenship to include ponies.”
“The Pharaoh did it though,” Psametik pointed out.
“Precisely. The pony population is already considered a fifth column at best, and now you want to give them citizenship too?”
He shrugged. “The problem must be addressed eventually, Zaliki. It’s folly to think that, when we come to blow with Thebanus, they won’t pick a side. I just want to be sure that it’ll be ours.”
The sphinxess considered him a moment. Her keen brown eyes, now trained on him, shone in the candlelight.
“I’ll be honest with you, that’s sounds a lot like wishful thinking.” She crossed her forelegs on the table. “On the other paw, granting them citizenship would technically made them eligible for military service, and save us from the embarrassment of enacting conscription in the future.”
Psametik shook his head. “I was actually thinking the other way around, Zaliki.” When he saw the quizzical look on her face, he added with a grin, “Military service in exchange for citizenship. That way no sphinx will say that we’re handing it out to the slaves.”
“And there won’t even be that many of them anyway, should we choose to dissolve the AOPR,” Zaliki noted, mirroring his smile with one of her own. “I’m starting to like where this is going. You can solve two problems with one move, and I get to kick those landowners down a notch or two.”
The sphinxess pressed her lips in a thin line. “Something like that could be arranged, but I’ll need something first in exchange.” Her mouth split into a grin as she saw the look of curiosity on his face. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just a bone for the rest of my block.”
“I’m listening.” Psametik said simply with a nod.
Zaliki did not answer immediately, taking her time to refill her own glass, and then taking a long sip from it. “Do you remember the Bustadan’s Accords?”
“More or less. Why are you askin-” Psametik froze mid-sentence, his eyebrows furrowing. “Please, tell me you’re not planning on scrapping the treaty.”
She chuckled. “By the Twenty, no! Not yet, anyway.” The sphinxess sat the glass down on the table “Of course, one day we’ll hopefully able to finally put it aside for good," she said with a wink.
"For now though, I’ll settle for a renegotiation. Specifically, on the part that allows the Owlstrian Gendarmerie to conduct operation on our soil without asking any permission. That we, a sovereign republic, let operate a foreign force within our borders with no oversight is both an embarrassment and a disgrace to our authority.”
Psametik frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t like the idea myself, but at least the Gendarmerie tries to keep some order around. The alternative would be to give the role back to each cities’ Civic Cohort, and do you really want to trust them?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t trust those sphinxes with the keys of a candy store. Besides, if what happened here in Akhri is any indication, many of them are not really that loyal to the Republic.”
“What’s your idea then?”
“It’s simple, really. We create a police force, a real one, to replace them. I’ve got a few of my colleagues already working on a proposal and I reckon it should be ready in a couple months.” Her brown eyes locked gaze with him. “The only thing I need are a few votes in the Assembly to pass it.”
Psametik opened his mouth to agree, but then chose to shut it. An idea flashed before him; it was an old one, something that he’d toyed with before putting it in the back of his mind and forgetting about.
That idea had taken deep roots in the meantime though, swelling and growing while he wasn’t looking, and now it had become too big to ignore. And yet…
Psametik bit thoughtfully his lip. It had been fifteen years since his appointment as Patriarch of the Scavon Clan, merely five years after the Republic’s independence from the Pharaoh, but so little seemed to have changed in that time. Its past problems- slavery, a frail institutional system, and sphinx-only citizenship- had simply become its present problems.
The world went on, the threat from Thebanus becoming more real with each passing day, but Akhri still showed a morbid attachment to its old ways.
Drastic changes had to be enacted if the Republic was to survive; drifting away from Owlstria’s political orbit was only the first step on a long road.
Psametik studied the sphinxess before him. Putting aside the hostility of their clan towards one another, he and Zaliki were similar in many ways.
Sure, they might had their fair share of divergences, but they were both descendants from two of Sphigypt’s most ancient clans, the same that had struck the first blow against the Pharaoh. Such position entailed certain privileges, yes, but also demanded many duties.
Putting their political struggle aside, both were working for the Republic’s betterment, and that was mattered in the end. And besides, that wasn’t a first. Scavon and Dey Clan had certainly worked together in the past, quite well actually, so there was that precedent.
That did not make what was about to propose less risky though, but it gave him something firm to hold on. He would have just to approach it from the right angle.
“So, if I’m understanding this correctly,” Psametik spoke at length, “you’re proposing an exchange of favours. A couple of social reforms for a few changes in the Accords, correct?” He saw no point in dancing around it.
Zaliki nodded. “More or less. I’m sure it’s not an alien concept to you.”
“Not, it isn’t. Still, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” He grinned as he saw her eyebrows arching up in surprise. “I’m not saying that the proposition isn’t good, mind you. I just think that we’re thinking in too much short terms.”
“And what makes you say that?” Zaliki asked sceptically.
“This.” He waved his paw to the surroundings for emphasis. “Sure, our clans exchange favours just as much as they battle each other. However, in doing so we’ve allowed others to grow fat and capitalize on our distraction.”
She sighed. “Is this about you and the landowners again?” Her tone showed clear signs of annoyance.
“No. This time, it’s about you and the landowners, Matriarch Dey.” Psametik promptly replied. “After all, they’re the ones occupying the Archon's seat, even though they technically belong to your block. And in doing so,” he lowered his voice to a hiss, “they make you appear weak. When Siuk challenges your decisions, he makes every sphinx think that he’s the one holding the strings behind your back, instead of the other way around, that Clan Dey is nothing more than its puppet to play with. Is this what you wish?”
Zaliki’s eyes slowly narrowed to slits. She opened her mouth for a reply, then thought better and shut it. Still, behind that furious façade, there was a clear hint of deep interest.
“I’m confident that this rambling of yours is going somewhere, yes?” The sphinxess shot him a suspicious glance.
Psametik nodded. Honestly, he was surprised he had gone this far without stopping himself. He briefly wondered if that was maybe the wine’s fault. If it was, Abyssinians really did miracles then.
“You asked me if Owlstria has any right to meddle in our internal affairs. I now ask you if a bunch of fat, greedy sphinxes have any right in sticking their noses in Clan Dey’s affairs.”
“And if the answer is no, as I think it is, well,” he went on with a wide grin, “as Clan Scavon’s designed patriarch, allow me to say that it’s time for Siuk to retire as an Archon, and for us to choose a new one.”
Zaliki’s eyes widened in surprise. She said nothing, her mouth slightly agape, utterly speechless. Psametik had never saw her like that. He had to move quickly now.
“Akhri doesn’t need lesser sphinxes squabbling amongst themselves, not when the Pharaoh is ready to pounce on our weakness,” he stated firmly. “It needs a guiding paw. And I believe it’s time for both Dey and Scavon Clan to step up to their rightful place within the Grand Assembly. You won’t be needing the landowners’ support anymore, and I’ll put the SRP minority back in the corner.”
“And what about the Temples?” Zaliki asked, and hope surged briefly within Psametik's hearth. Even getting her thinking about his proposal would have been an unexpected success.
He shrugged casually, or at least he hoped it looked casual. “I’ve known Horirem for a long time. Whether he accept or not, it holds little importance, as our majority would be unassailable.” He grinned. “Of course, he would have all the interest to join us, and that can make our hold on the assembly even more firm.”
Zaliki nodded but remained silent. Her eyes remained trained on him for many, seemingly eternal, seconds, and Psametik matched her gaze with his own.
At a first glance, the sphinxess’s face was serene, but he knew better. Behind that mask, gargantuan gears of cold steel were moving.
“Let us suppose for a moment,” she considered, “that I were to accept this proposal. Putting aside the fact that I would have call a tremendous amount of favours in, and just to keep my block together, there’s still the matter of deciding who would replace Siuk. And there’s no way in Tartarus I could convince any of mine to back a Scavon for that position.”
Psametik made a show of thinking about it for a while. Then, he shrugged. “Well, you could do it.”
The mask dropped, and her jaw literally hit the floor. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s simple, really,” he said, chuckling. “Unlike you, I keep my deputies at much tighter leash. Sure, they’ll rumble for a bit, but I think I know a way or two to convince them. Just give me a couple of weeks and you'll have those votes.”
Zaliki simply stared at him. To her credit, her shock lasted barely a few seconds before she overcome it.
“Amon almighty, you’re serious, aren’t you?” She frowned, her eyes wandering briefly on the ring of warden surrounding them. None seemed bothered in the slightest by what they’ve just heard.
Clan wardens were bound by an oath of secrecy to their respective patriarch or matriarch. For all intent and purpose, her and Psametik were surrounded by a brick wall.
She smacked her lips a few times, thoughtfully. Then her steel gaze settled on him. “The only way I’m going to even consider this is while drunk”. She flashed him a grin, and he saw the glistening tips of her canines just barely poking out from beneath her upper lip. “Therefore, if you want to discuss the matter any further, I suggest you go and get more bottles of that wine.”
Psametik nodded, hiding the smug grin of satisfaction forming now on his face. He quietly thanked the Twenty for smiling on him for once. That was going to be a long night.
Marediterranean Sea,
Heavy cruiser OSL Bucephalus,
A few hours after midnight…
“Play the recording again, Mrs Glow.”
The unicorn mare glanced away from the console and towards the griffon standing by her side. His eyebrows were knitted together in deep thought.
“Again?” Lieutenant Glow Plug asked, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but it’s quite messy. I don’t think you’ll hear anything useful aside from that bunch of incomprehensible gibberish. Of course, I could go find Loitzer so he can fix it, but even then, I’m not that sure he can.”
Captain Alder Blackwing turned slightly his head to regard her. “Your concerns have been noted, lieutenant,” he said in a quiet, cold tone. “Now, play it.”
“Aye, sir.” The mare kept herself from pointing out that was the eight time she has been asked to play the damned radio transmission they’d picked up a while ago, and simply nodded. She flicked down a couple of switches, pressed some buttons with her telekinesis, and passed him a bulky pair of earphones linked to her terminal.
She waited a few moments for the griffon to don them properly, then pushed the play button.
At first there was silence. Then came the soft buzzing of electronics, followed shortly by a much louder sound of crackling static. Finally, a voice emerged amongst all the background sounds.
“-yday! Mayday! This is Cap… rs Redbeak of the RMS Calypso to all and any Owlstrian vessels in …inity.We’r … nidentified airship! I repeat, we’re under attack! We’ve sustained heavy … fire is spreading on the upper decks. Their weapons… its … I’ve never seen anything like that! They’ve just ch… the hull!”
There were other voices with him, both male and female, urgent and loud but still incomprehensible. Alder heard an alarm wailing somewhere in the background.
“Steady! Keep her steady I said!” the captain’s voice snapped with urgency.
“I’ve got wounded on all decks … engines won’t hold muc… antenna’s heavily damaged. We need-” The recording became intelligible for a few second, radio interference drowning out the his voice.
“-ear Talos, the fire has reached the cargo bay! Aband … I repeat, abandon ship! It’s about to blow u-”
There was silence after that, and the recording came to an end.
Alder Blackwing removed the earphones, setting them back on his comm officer’s desk. He suppressed the frown on his face with practised ease, putting on his usual neutral, expressionless mask.
“Thank you, Mrs Glow. You may resume your tasks.”
“Aye, skipper.” Her horn lit up and she took a sip of coffee from her mug.
Settling himself back in his command’s chair, Alder couldn’t help but notice that, aside from the buzzing and peeping of electronics, the bridge had been unusually quiet for the last hour. Most of his subordinate kept their eyes glued to their assigned consoles, and the tension was palpable.
“Captain, I’ve got Team Neptune 1-2 and 1-4 on the line,” Executive Officer Ted Scytheclaw said. “They’ve terminated their assigned sweep and are moving to next zone.”
The griffon nodded. “Did they find anything noteworthy?”
The exec shook his head. “No sir,” he said bitterly. “Not a thing.”
“Understood. Inform Neptune 1-1 and 1-3 that they’re to cover them, then adjust our route accordingly.”
Lieutenant Scytheclaw nodded and went to inform the helm. A minute or so later, the Bucephalus’s bridge tilted slightly portside as the ship changed her course. Barely any creature acknowledged it.
More time passed, and Alder had to fight the urge to rake with a claw the wooden armrest in frustration. His mind went back to the recording, and he briefly considered listen to it one more time.
The griffon shot a glance at Glow Plug before deciding against it. His crew was already on edge; they did not need to see him worried. He needed to keep a cool head now.
That transmission had been the only -and last, a more cynical part of him noted- communication received by the RMS Calypso, and that had happened nearly four hours ago. Being the closest vessel in the area, he had ordered his heavy cruiser Bucephalus to move to the Calypso's last known location.
The problem was to first determine where that was. According to Lieutenant Glow Plug, the signal, even if distorted, had come relatively close to them, given that radios on merchant ships were not that powerful when compared to military ones. That didn’t reduce their field of research that much though.
If things were not complicated enough, the utter lack of light made his flying teams’ efforts all the harder. Griffon’s eyes were certainly useful at night, but even them had their limits.
As of now, the Bucephalus was moving in utter darkness, broken only in some places by the constant sway of the ship’s headlight. The division promised by Port Kossen was yet to arrive, leaving her alone in a Search and Rescue mission for the time being.
If the Calypso’s SOS was of any indication though, that wasn’t a simple SAR, and Alder had decided to sound the general quarters some time before. The Bucephalus might have not been designed to face flying targets, but her hide was thick and she was fast. Besides, her lighter guns could certainly pack a punch if necessary.
Still, that left a lot of questions, namely what an unidentified airship was doing in the Marediterranean.
Was it sky pirates perhaps? The griffon shook his head. That was more of a zebra thing, and even then, it was unlikely for them to pick a route so heavily patrolled such as this. Pirates were not that idiotic.
Could Thebanus be behind this then? Maybe some sort of provocation? That would be certainly be more likely, even if infinitely more stupid on their part. Alder found himself frowning. Of course, leave it to the sphinxes to murder his compatriots to send a message.
“Incoming communication, skipper,” Glow Plug announced. “From Neptune 1-4. He says that they’ve found something.”
Alder’s ears perked up. “Can you ask him to elaborate?”
“Already done that, skipper. They said that they’ve found a small craft ten klicks north-west from us, possibly a lifeboat, but they can’t confirm it right now.” She paused for a moment to listen to her earphones. “Neptune 1-4 is asking permission to investigate.”
There was a sudden, collective gasp of surprise from many creatures on the bridge.
“Very well, lieutenant,” Alder said with a calm voice. “Tell him to proceed, but he’s to exercise caution in his approach.”
Then, turning toward his exec, “Mr Scytheclaw, have the medical team informed, then halve our current speed.”
The griffon never had the chance to answer, as in that moment the horizon flashed with a crimson, burning light, blossoming out by a single point high in the sky. It hung there for several seconds, burning, before initiating a slow descent into the sea below.
“Flare! We’ve got a flare!” one of the officer bellowed.
“Skipper, I’ve got Neptune 1-4 on the radio. They say it came from the lifeboat and that they’re moving in to secure.”
Alder Blackwing nodded. “Understood. Mr Scytheclaw, belay what I’ve just said. Move us closer to them and prepare the motorboats for launch. I want a team with medical personnel assembled on the upper deck in five minutes.”
“Aye, sir.” His exec sighed in relief. This time, Alder allowed himself to mirror him. Talos be praised, they were not too late yet.
Fortress of Til-Akes,
Soukres Mountains, somewhere west of Kisne,
A few hours later …
The fire burned brightly within the raised stone basin before her, the dancing, blue cobalt flames growing taller and casting long shadows around the room.
And yet, Tempest Shadow could hardly feel any heat coming off from them. Unsurprisingly, given their magical nature.
The mare cast one last look around to assure herself to be alone. Even if her own guards had conducted methodological searches through her living quarters and had found no visible sign of tampering, be it magical or otherwise, that did not mean that the sphinxes could not try.
After all, Tempest was confident that they were already keeping a strict watch on the dispatches she often sent out.
She smiled, mostly to herself. They could try all they want, but she always made sure not to send anything vital through them. Besides, most of her exchanges with the Storm King occurred through magical means. Not with crystal balls, of course; any experienced magic users could eventually crack the channel with enough effort.
Tempest Shadow went back at studying the blue flames. She grimaced. She had little idea of the magical principle behind them, as her training on that regard had been … cut short. Or was broken a better definition?
Thankfully, she had no time to delve on that subject further. The flames shifted, then twisted and twirled before coalescing into a single face.
A face that Tempest was not expecting to see.
“Commander Tykus,” she acknowledged him, hiding her surprise.
“Thunder Captain Tempest Shadow,” he answered in a neutral tone. “I hope you are calling for a very important reason.”
The Storm Creature -or yeti, as they called themselves- was taller than her, but the flame made them stand more or less at eye level. His face, surrounded by a thick white-and-grey furry mane, was hidden behind a black mask. On it were eight long notches, four on each cheek, all painted crimson to mimic ritual scars, and all symbolizing his rank as commander.
Tempest nodded. “I am. I was hoping to speak to His Excellency.”
“He’s busy as of now. If you have a message, you can give it to me, Thunder Captain, and I’ll tell him later.”
“With all due respect, these are urgent news, sir," she insisted. "They must be immediately brought to the Storm King.”
“And as I’ve said before, captain, he’s busy,” Tykus all but growled. “He might have showed special regard towards you, but that doesn’t authorize you to talk to him whenever you like.”
“There’s such a thing as a chain of command, Captain Tempest Shadow,” he continued, putting emphasis on the rank, “and you’re not immune from it.”
Tempest opened her muzzle to retort, but her self-control quickly took over, shutting it close. As much as she wanted to loathe him, Tykus -Commander Tykus, she corrected herself- did have a point for once.
“Of course, commander. Please, accept my apologies,” she said somewhat formally, dipping her head stiffly to his image. “You’ve my assurance than this won’t happen again.”
Even behind that mask, Tempest could sense that Tykus was anything but convinced about the sincerity behind her statement. And she could hardly care less.
“I’ve called to inform you, commander, that the situation here in Sphigypt has evolved, and it is therefore likely to explode in the next two months at most.”
“And you’re sure of this because?” Tykus asked.
“Thebanus is amassing great quantities of supplies in hidden deposits between the Soukres Mountains and the Nilus River. I can also confirm that they've recalled some troops from the western border now that the situation in Saddle Arabia is settling down. Furthermore, new regiments are being mobilized around Dehecan.”
The yeti grunted. “That was to be expected. I’m then to presume that their Vizier has already asked you to honour our part of the bargain?”
“No, he did not.” Tempest said. “The sphinxes seem to eye us warily for now, even if we’re technically allies. Still, I’m going to need reinforcements should they indeed ask for our support.”
“Reinforcements?” Tykus sounded somewhat surprised. “You have already fifteen hundred with you!”
“Of which only two hundred are Storm Guards,” Tempest pointed out. “The rest are either mercenaries, auxiliaries or non-combat personnel.”
“But you also have three airships.”
She nodded. “I do, commander. On that regard, I wish to inform you that we’ve conducted some field tests on the magic-based weapons that you so graciously provided us to with.”
“You did? Well, you should have started with that! No matter. I’m confident that they proved much effective, yes?” Commander Tykus now seemed much more eager to hear what she was about to say. He had been the one to push the most for their development after all, to the point that most of his carer was based on the production of magical weapons.
One thing for sure, The Storm King was not keeping him around for his tactical prowess.
“They were indeed effective,” Tempest said, her tone turning ice cold.“They also were volatile, unreliable and just as dangerous for us as for the enemy. As I’ve stated in the report that you’ll soon receive, one of the Storm Cannons malfunctioned, causing a dozen casualties and setting one of the lower decks on fire.”
She sighed. “The Altostratus won’t be able to fly for a time with her repair underway. Furthermore, I had to request permission to Miralay Belk to employ Til-Akes’s facilities to speed up the process, which she granted.”
“You imbecill!” Tykus snapped. The cobalt flame flared, growing bigger and brighter. “That weapon was supposed to remain confidential! You did not have the liberty to let sphinxes -spies, in more likelihood- aboard one of our airships.”
He took a deep breath, before fixing again his hateful glare on Tempest. “Thanks to your incompetence, captain, the sphinxes know about our project. And the gods only know who else is informed by now!”
Tempest Shadow remained unfazed by the outburst, limiting her reaction to a single, raised eyebrow.
“I did not have a choice in the matter. Those weapons were unstable and not ready for a field test. Oh, don’t worry; we disassembled and hid them before the repair crews came aboard, but the damage is already done.”
“My strike force is reduced by a third of its strength, leaving me with only two assault transports,” she continued. “I don’t know when the Altostratus will be operational again and, to top it all off, the Pharaoh is readying himself for a showdown. Therefore, I must request reinforcements, Commander Tykus.”
“That is not possible, captain.” The flame dwindled a bit, shrinking back to a more normal size.
“Our campaign in Abyssinia is … well, is not proceeding as quick as we had hoped, and we’ve redirected there our available reserves. The recent debacle at Mount Aris has most displeased His Excellency, and he has forbidden any overstretching until those damn cats are dealt with.”
Tempest blinked in surprise. “Mount Aris, sir? Did the raid fail then?”
“Worse, it didn’t even occur. Commander Carrion managed to get ambushed on the way.” He grunted something resembling an amused cackle. “He lost four airships to bloody seaponies! That bird’s lucky he didn’t survive to face the Storm King’s wrath. Still, thanks to him, our resources are more strained than usual.”
The yeti shrugged. “You’ll have to make do with what you have.” Tempest could almost picture the grin growing behind the mask. “You did something similar at Aksum, didn’t you? I’m confident that you’ll manage.”
Tempest clenched her jaw. She had to muster all her self-control to not snap at him right there. “Of course, sir.”
He nodded. “Well, if that was all, captain, I’ll leave you now. I’ve got a real war to fight.”
Commander Tykus’s face hung in the flame for a moment or two before dissipating. The cobalt fire lasted a little longer, but eventually it too dwindled and died. No sign of it remained in the small stone basin, not even embers.
The only fire surviving in the room was the fiery rage burning within Tempest. Her mask of calm slipped for a second, causing a few bright sparks to erupt from her horn stump.
She forced herself to relax, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The magic sparks’ eruption died down. As much as she wanted to pour out all the bottled-up frustration building inside her, preferably on Tykus’s face, she managed to suppress the urge to smash her hooves through the furniture.
Tempest was aware that her meteoric rise through the ranks had ruffled quite some feathers in the upper echelons.
If that wasn’t enough to anger them, her quick and brutal way of conducting warfare had gained much favour with the Storm King, especially after the successful twenty-four-hour long siege of Aksum.
It had reached a such point that many believed her promotion to commander to be but a few steps away. Of course, those idiotic buffoons standing by His Excellency side had convinced him to send her to Sphigypt so to prevent that.
Tempest allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. They had been too stupid to realize that they’d agree to send her exactly where she wanted to be and, most importantly, where the Storm King wanted her to be. Speaking of which …
She looked back at the crystal ball on her desk nearby and moved to activate the device. Doing it resulted to be easier said than done as while any unicorn could easily do it, her own affliction rendered the entire process much lengthier than necessary.
It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t use magic. Her horn, even if damaged, was still perfectly functional. But where the magic should have been a directed and orderly flux, like a river flowing downhill, it came to Tempest as a raw, unfocused mess, not much dissimilar from a storm.
She had to push, fight, even whipped it towards the direction she wanted it to go. All the while, her horn glowed brighter and brighter, sparks of raw magic rocketing out of it and spinning in a wild frenzy. It was painful, sure, but pain was something she had long since learned to live with.
Eventually, the cloudy mass within the ball began to swirl, slowly at first, then quicker as an image took form.
Tempest shut herself out of the magic and the pain faded, causing a sigh of relief to escape from her lips. She wasn’t much worried about the sphinx tapping into it, as long as it remained hidden.
“Professor Safiya, can you hear me?” she spoke into the sphere.
A cacophony of sounds came out from the other side, mostly of books and other object hitting the floor. It was accompanied by a loud string of curses, thankfully in Sphigyptian.
The face of a grey-and-white furred, green-eyed sphinxess came into view. Her mane was tied into a series of long braids, and she was wearing a pair of glasses.
“Bloody Menhit, how does this thing work?” Tempest heard her mumbling. Then, louder, “Miss Fizzlepop, is that you?”
“Indeed, professor,” the mare nodded. As much as she had sworn herself to leave her past name behind, it was undeniably a good cover for the time being. The only thing from her past life that had any use, she noted.
“I was hoping you could give me a little report on your progress regarding the book,” Tempest said with a fake smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but my superior is getting … somewhat impatient, let's say.”
Safiya shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have much as of now. As I’ve said before, the test is written by different authors in four different dialects, all of them a pain in the rear to translate. It will take time, and it is not a thing I can do alone.”
“Still, I’ll admit I’m quite excited.” The sphinxess’s muzzle split into a broad grin. “I mean, you don’t get everyday an original manuscript about the life of Sacanas. Where did your client get it anyway?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the liberty to divulge that, professor.” Then, in a more thoughtful tone, she added, “Sacanas, uh? I think I’ve heard that somewhere. Wasn’t she one of your gods or something?”
Safiya nodded. “One of the Twenty, yes. Of course, it is well known amongst us scholars that all of the Twenty were alive once, before eventually ascending to godhood. Sacanas, the goddess, I mean, has been venerated for countless years as the Wind Mistress.”
Tempest frowned. “You mean she could command the weather?”
“More or less. We also have accounts of when she was mortal – only fragments, I’m afraid- and they all describe her as a miraculous healer. Honestly, I don’t know what’s the connection between the two, but that’s how they used to worship her in Kaska.”
Something clicked within Tempest’s mind. She knew better that to put faith in some kind of holy healer, especially when all attempts at repairing her damaged horn had failed. Still, that childish curiosity got the better of her.
“That’s interesting, professor. Really interesting. Would you mind telling me more about her?”
Professor Safiya Di-Sen did not mind at all.
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That Storm King really came out of nowhere in the story. I assumed the cast of factions wouldn't expand any further, but I must say I'm pleasantly surprised. Haven't seen too many stories try to shed a light on how he came to take over an entire hemisphere in the first place. To see him getting involved with Abyssinia and Sphigypt at the same time... Can't wait to see how it pans out. Even though I'm of those that think Storm Creatures are more hedgehog-based than yetis but that's beside the point.
Also that yeti must really hate cat hair.
If I may ask though: the sphinxes, do you give them any kind of racial attribute? By this I mean stuff like long lives, gigantism, magic...
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Thank you, although I should point out that I'm trying to keep things somewhat realistic regarding the Storm King. You might not see him conquer an entire hemisphere, but that doesn't make him less dangerous. He's got ambition, a numerous army, and an unhealthy obsession with magical artifacts. Now, if only his officers could just get along ...
Regarding racial attribute, sphinxes don't have magic. Usually. I don't want to spoiler anything, but let's just say that Sacanas didn't built a staff just for fun. Will it play a role in the future? We'll see ...